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rosesmith18 · 4 years ago

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(PnF) Headcanon #4 Boys Basic Info

This post is a follow up to post #3 pertaining to the fireside girls, but you don't need to read that post to understand this post. This post will mainly be basic information pertaining to the male cast of Phineas and Ferb characters in the same age range as the fireside girls. I will likely make a post similar for the older characters, but for now this one is necessary for my plans for post #5. First on the chopping block is, Phineas Flynn: Phineas is an erratic young boy who I believe to have ADHD. He is morally driven though those morals aren't always the best morals. He despises boredom and wasting his time doing things he doesn't enjoy. Full Name: Phineas Philip Flynn Ethnicity: Irish-American Birthday: 1, April, 1997 Hometown: Phineas was born in Danville, USA to parents Linda Flynn & Phelan Flynn. Pets: Phineas & Ferb adopted their pet platypus Perry when they were four years old. School Pursuits: Phineas joins the high school basketball team at the encouragement of his friends despite his worries that it might impede on his & Ferbs’ school inventing. Sexuality: Pansexual Main Ship: Phinbella Second on our character list, Ferbs Fletcher: Ferb is a quiet, thoughtful fellow who very much keeps to himself. He has no trouble speaking his mind, but appreciate that Phineas' personality keeps the attention off of him. He too finds boredom unbearable, and seeks out adrenaline at every turn. Full Name: Ferbs Fletcher Ethnicity: British Birthday: 29, February, 1996 Hometown: Ferbs was born in Chelsea, London to parents Lawrence Fletcher & Freya Salisbury. He moved to Danville with his father in the summer of 1999 to meet Lawrence’s girlfriend Linda Flynn. Pets: Ferb & Phineas adopted their pet platypus Perry when they were four years old. School Pursuits: Ferbs participates in several musical throughout middle school, but his main pursuit is Fencing in high school. Gender/Sexuality: Nonbinary(Him/They)/Bisexual Main Ship: Ferbnessa Followed by, Buford Van Stomm: Buford starts off as the bully of his 'friend' group, though by middle school he has mellowed out quite a bit. His bonds with the brother strength, and he opens up to many of his pent up emotions. Becoming an all around mischievous, but sweet-hearted friend. Full Name: Buford Van Stomm Ethnicity: Dutch-Norwegian Birthday: 3, November, 1997 Hometown: Buford was born in Danville, USA to parents Biffany Van Stomm & Bjørn Jørgensen. Pets: Buford cares deeply for his pet goldfish Biff named after the boy’s own mother Biffany. School Pursuits: Buford starts aiding for the musical troop at their middle school before joining the Drama Club at Danville High his freshman year. Sexuality: Bisexual Main Ship: Buford/Gretchen Baljeet Tijnder: Baljeet is the socially-lost, 'nerd' of the group. He is put off by what most individuals consider fun, but is always intrigued by the brothers inventions. He is often consulted for his mathematical genius. Full Name: Baljeet Tijnder Ethnicity: Indian Birthday: 14, March, 1997 Hometown: Baljeet was born in Bhubaneswar, India to parents Ajil Tijnder & Liya Bhatt. He moved to Danville the year before the series took place(2007) when he was eight. School Pursuits: Baljeet is able to skip his Junior & Senior years of high school due to his intelligences, but does tutor during Freshman & Sophomore. Sexuality: Straight Main Ship: Baljeet/Ginger Django Brown: Django is an artistic child that pursues several avenues of art throughout his life; Graffiti being his route of choice after years of experimenting. He is commonly commissioned by the brothers to produce art to promote their various projects. Full Name: Django Brown Ethnicity: Romani-American Birthday: 23, January, 1997 Hometown: Django was born in Danville, USA to parents Beppo Brown & Leonora Reinhardt. School Pursuits: Django spends middle school & high school broadening his artistic horizons by taking several art classes as well as taking art classes at the local museum. Sexuality: Pansexual Main Ship: Django/Adyson Balthazar Horowitz: Balthazar is an average kid in the city of Danville. He's been the witness to many strange happenings, but his daily life remains unchanged. Full Name: Balthazar Horowitz Ethnicity: American Birthday: 21, September, 1997 Hometown: Danville, USA School Pursuits: Balthazar surprisingly finds himself in the position of high school team mascot later in life. Sexuality: Straight Main Ship: Balthazar/Holly (No, Brigitte isn't male, but I did all the other fireside girl partners in this post, so it's only fair I add Katie's)Brigitte Archambeau: Brigitte is the smart, sassy, mature leader of the French fireside troop 33121. She takes her troop duties seriously, and is not fond of distractions, ironically enough. Full Name: Brigitte Archambeau Ethnicity: Parisian Birthday: 2, February, 1997 Hometown: Paris, France School Pursuits: Brigitte is far too focused on the fireside girls to participate in other after school activities, though she does often times spend her free time aiding other fireside girls in obtaining their patches. Sexuality: Bisexual Main Ship: Brigitte/Katie Irving Du Bois: Irving is a Phineas & Ferb fanboy with skills in website design and data gathering. He is a sort of hermit when not interacting or stalking Phineas and Ferb, though he eventually finds something else to obsess about(OWCA, I mean). Full Name: Irving Du Bois Ethnicity: French-American Birthday: 3, March, 1997 Hometown: Danville, USA School Pursuits: Irving joins the high school newspaper to help him disguises his stalking of both the brothers and some fellow intriguing rabbit holes(Again, OWCA). Sexuality: Asexual Main Ship: Irving/Milly Extra: Thaddeus Weaver: Thaddeus is the self-proclaimed rival of Phineas-though the opposing party has not confirmed this-as well as a young boy obsessed with leaving his mark on the world. He has a quick-temper and is prideful in nature leading to his need to one up Phineas. Full Name: Thaddeus Weaver Ethnicity: American Birthday: 4, September, 1997 Hometown: Thaddeus was born in Salem, Oregon, but his family moved to Danville, USA in the summer of 2010. School Pursuits: Thaddeus' obsession with fame can be sited as partially rooted in his interest towards the rulers of historic times such as Ramesses II. Leading to his attending of historic lectures since third grade. Sexuality: Straight Main Ship: Thaddeus/Adriana(OC) Thor Weaver: Thor is the much more laid back brother contrary to Thaddeus. Unlike his brother, Thor cares little if at all for the fame Thaddeus pursues. Similarly, he cares nothing for the rivalry his brother insist on having with the Flynn-Fletcher duo, though this is something he does not bother to state. Full Name: Thor Weaver Ethnicity: American Birthday: 4, September, 1997 Hometown: Thor was born in Salem, Oregon, but his family moved to Danville, USA in the summer of 2010. School Pursuits: Thor is a pursuer of thoughtlessness, and so enjoys his school afternoons free of demands. Sexuality: Straight Main Ship: Thor/Juno(OC) In summary, these are my personal headcanons for the boys of PnF(along with an exception). Some things I've mentioned will be expanded upon more so in future post such as my OC's. If you have any questions or comments feel free to leave them on the post.

#phineas and ferb #headcanons #phineas flynn #ferb fletcher #buford van stomm #baljeet tjinder #django brown #balthazar horowitz #irving du bois #brigitte #thaddeus weaver #thor weaver #ocs

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themurphyzone · 6 years ago

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Threat Level: PnF Gang

5. Phineas- Kid's a total sweetheart. He couldn't hurt a fly. 4. Buford- Likes projecting a bully aura, but this is to protect the softy with an interest in the French language and filmmaking inside. Only threatening from appearance alone. 3. Baljeet- Scrawny and unassuming, but has transformed into a mini-Hulk and almost wiped out life on earth by removing oxygen from the atmosphere. Just don't enhance him with science or choose plastic over paper and we'll call it a day. 2. Ferb- It's always the quiet ones to watch out for. He's a prodigy in every area and has a mean Vulcan pinch to boot. He's so easy to overlook and underestimate. 1. Isabella- If you want a look at her skillset, just look at her Fireside Girl sash. Her cuteness is absolutely potent, but what sets her at the #1 spot is how she survived on her own during the pharmazombie apocalypse by herself, evading the Doof clones while gathering information on the beam that transformed the mayor, working out the source with trigonometry, providing this vital info to her friends, and being the last person standing (Heinz and Stacy excluded). And unlike everyone else, she didn't use rubber or a disguise.

#phineas and ferb #Isabella Garcia shapiro #Buford van stomm #baljeet tjinder #phineas flynn #Ferb fletcher

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milesfromjapan · 6 years ago

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Fireside Nights

a/n: i really miss it being cold outside and shawn’s hp snapchat gave me feels.

With the fire crackling next to your head, the world felt calm. You sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the warmth of the fire dancing across your skin. You hummed softly to yourself as a calm came over you before shrugging off your sweater, not needing it anymore since the fire was blazing next to you. You leaned back against the sofa, grateful for moments like these when the world felt far away and all you felt was comfort and warmth and love, so much love.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

Shawn’s words pulled you out of your head and back to him. You looked over to see him leaned against the doorway, a pair of shorts hanging loosely off his hips and a thin t-shirt clinging to his torso, with two mugs overflowing with marshmallows in his hands. He was so beautiful with his hair completely undone and a lazy smile on his face like that.

“You did not get the big marshmallows,” you practically moaned when you took notice of the large marshmallows floating on top of the mugs, blocking the hot chocolate from view.

“You like them better,” he shrugged, a lazy smile on his face as he handed you your favorite blue mug.

You immediately popped one of the massive marshmallows into your mouth, the hot chocolate that had soaked into it running down your throat, warning you up from the inside. Shawn sat on the pillow-covered ground next to you, his marshmallows bobbing in his mug with his movements. He let out a long sigh of relief when none of it spilled and popped a dripping marshmallow into his mouth as a reward, letting out a satisfied hum at the sweetness.

“10 out of 10,” you laughed. “Master of not spilling his hot chocolate.”

Shawn laughed, but he still had the marshmallow in his mouth so it came out muffled, followed by a choking sound, then more laughter as he tried to keep marshmallow from spraying out of his mouth. You openly laughed at his struggles causing him to feign being hurt, throwing his best puppy dog eyes your way and jutting his bottom lip out. The expression was cute and he knew it, but you didn’t fall for it that time.

“Nope,” you picked up another sticky marshmallow with two of your fingers, “sometimes my role in your life is to laugh at your pain.”

He shook his head before fighting back the marshmallows to take a sip of his hot chocolate.

“You know, hot chocolate is more of a winter-”

“Don’t you dare,” you cut him off. “I needed to wear a jacket outside today, meaning it is hot chocolate weather. Hot chocolate is appropriate whenever I have to wear a jacket.”

Shawn put his free hand up, declaring himself the loser of the argument and resigning to agreeing with your clearly superior opinion. You laughed, which made him laugh again. You loved his laugh. It made your heartbeat pick up just a little and the love you felt for him warm you like your hot chocolate was doing, but deeper down inside you.

“Ready?” he asked you.

“Always.”

Your best Snape impression made him say, "God, you suck,” with a shake of his head. “I think I’ll keep you anyway.”

“Oh please, like I’d let you get rid of me,” you joked back.

He smiled that lazy smile of his that made you roll your eyes as he pressed play on the remote and the familiar music flooded the apartment. You loudly sang along to the notes in a series of ‘dun’ and ‘dah’ noises, probably off-key, but he didn’t care. He just laughed and joined along as much as he laughter would let him. The introductory music to Harry Potter is a classic and you’d fight anyone who disagreed.

You scooted over toward Shawn so your leg was pressed against his, but that clearly wasn’t enough contact for Shawn. He pulled his arms back wide and gestured for you to move to sit in between his legs. He took your hot chocolate from you in an act of self-preservation so you could slide into between his legs without creating a mess all over him. When you settled with your back against his warm chest, you took your hot chocolate back greedily, your fingers begging for the warm cup. He kissed your head, clearly amused by your actions before turning his attention toward the film. You both knew practically every word by heart, but that didn’t mean you watched it absentmindedly. Harry Potter was serious business, even if Half-Blood Prince wasn’t either of your favorite movies. You loved Goblet of Fire. Shawn was partial to Order of the Phoenix.

You drank your hot chocolate slowly, trying to balance savoring each sip and making sure it didn’t get too cold as the movie began. Shawn’s free hand was drawing lazy shapes on your hip under your shirt. He always had a hand on you, keeping you close, but you were pretty sure he didn’t do it consciously. He just liked the way your skin felt under his fingertips. His long, strong arms wrapped around your stomach, securing you to him. His chin rested on your shoulder, his ear pressed against yours.

“Hi there,” you chuckled, reaching a hand up to run your fingers through his messy, chocolate curls, fluffing them up with your actions. “You’re pretty cute.”

“Yeah, well, you’re stunning.”

Shawn kissed your temple before relaxing his head back, full attention returning to the movie with one of his arms around your stomach, keeping you close. As the movie continued, Shawn kept bringing you closer and closer to him until you were basically on top of him, curled into his chest, your head raising and lowering with each breath he took. The fire was still dancing across your skin, which in combination with Shawn, was making you feel warm from head to toe, inside and out. One of his large hands was gently rubbing up and down your back and his eyes were trained on the screen, watching Ron under the influence of a love potion and his subsequent love of a girl he’d never met.

“I was that stupid over you the first time I met you,” Shawn spoke softly. “Everyone thought I was going nuts because I straight up could not stop talking about you.”

You smiled softly before replying, “Oh trust me, the feeling was mutual. I was so into you. My roommates were so sick of hearing about you.”

“You think your roommates were sick of you? Try asking the guys I was writing with then,” he laughed. “Pretty sure they wanted to punch me. I kept asking them for advice and flipping out everytime you texted me. We got, like, nothing done because I was so obsessed about making sure I was doing and saying everything right. Like, a ten-word text would take me fifteen minutes to figure out.”

“And you’re supposed to be good at expressing your emotions,” you joked. “I just flew by the seat of my pants, to be honest. If I thought too much, I never would’ve texted you back.” You looked up at him before asking, “Any chance you’ve got chocolate and graham crackers to go with the extra marshmallows?”

“Yes to the chocolate, definitely no to the graham crackers,” he replied. “Sorry, babe.”

“Roasted marshmallows then?” you asked.

“Down for whatever you want to do.”

He kissed your head as you snuggled back into his chest. You were wrapped up in him, his heartbeat making you feel steady and loved. The crackling of the fire in combination with one of your favorite movies with one of your favorite people was making your heart feel so full as the movie came to a close. The credits began to roll across the screen and you rolled out of Shawn’s grasp, stretching out, unstiffening joints that hadn’t moved on almost two hours. A crack from Shawn’s direction let you know he was doing exactly what you were doing. Turns out, he was doing it faster because he reached out from above you and hoisted you up off the ground, making you squeal and him laugh loudly.

He half-carried, half-dragged you toward the kitchen, your sock-covered feet skating across the slick flooring. When you got to the kitchen, you could see the bag of marshmallows waiting on the counter. Shawn’s fingers laced in between yours as you reached the counter, his strong arms controlling yours as he made you reach for the marshmallows, stopping you just inches short of your sugary sweet goal.

“Are you having trouble there?” Shawn teased. “Just grab them, babe. Come on. This is easy! Just grab the marshmallows!”

You whined and slammed your back against his chest, making him stumble back half a step and a lough laugh escape his throat. You’d been hearing that beautiful sound a lot tonight and it made your heart happy each time you heard it. He finally surrendered, releasing your hands to allow you to capture your prize. You sighed in relief, holding the bag tightly in your hands, before letting Shawn guide you back to your spot in front of the fire.

“You said you’d never use these,” you sang softly as you spiked a marshmallow with a roasting stick, “but yet, here we are.”

“I literally only use these with you and when I’m drunk,” Shawn countered before copying your movements as you started to roast your marshmallow, keeping it just above the flames so it didn’t burn. “These are definitely still a gift for you in disguise as a gift for me.”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my marshmallow starting to melt.”

Shawn scoffed before he stuck his marshmallow directly into the flames, lighting it on fire. He liked his burnt, one of his major flaws. He pulled the marshmallow out once it was blackened to his liking and quickly put the flames out so it didn’t char past what he wanted. You were patient, letting your marshmallow gently brown over the flames, toasting the edges softly. Shawn cursed as he bit down on the marshmallow and you snorted.

“Well, you set it on fire. Of course it’s hot,” you informed him with a roll of your eyes.

“You know, I didn’t ask for you,” Shawn teased back. “Maybe I’ll return you. I just gotta find the receipt.”

“Nah, you’ve passed the ninety-day limit on returns, so you’ve got to keep me,” you countered easily.

“Damn,” Shawn laughed, unable to keep a straight face anymore.

You shoved his shoulder playfully. He barely kept his black marshmallow from hitting the ground as he stumbled to the side, catching his weight on his forearm. He glared at you before shoving you back. You were prepared for his retaliation and you barely budged. Shawn huffed in annoyance before popping his definitely still too hot marshmallow into his mouth just as you pulled your superiority toasted one from above the fire.

You blew on your marshmallow for a minute as Shawn lit his second one on fire, popping it into your mouth when it was sufficiently cooled, humming in pleasure at the warm, sugary, sticky goodness.

“Marshmallows are straight from heaven,” you informed Shawn as he repeated his mistakes from his first marshmallow, burning his mouth again with his second one.

“You must have brought them with you when you came down.”

Shawn’s face was smug, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he relished in his corny joke. You rolled your eyes as slowly and in the most exaggerated manner you could, making him bark out a laugh as you started to properly roast your second. Lightly brown was the way to go. He could burn marshmallows in front of you for the rest of your life, but you’d always make fun of him for it.

Shawn put his stick aside and slid behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his face into your neck. You felt his chest expand against your back as he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his breath fanning out across your skin, as he relaxed into you. You felt the tension melting from his shoulders with each passing second. You took your free hand and softly rubbed one of his forearms.

“I love you,” you told him softly. “You’re my little snug bug.”

Shawn chuckled against your skin and placed a gentle kiss there before replying, “I love you too, even if you might prefer marshmallows to me.”

tag list: @another-hopeless-daydreamer

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fluff #boyfriend!shawn #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes writings #shawn mendes writing

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jeminy3 · 7 years ago

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FIRESIDE - Chapter 2

2. there's all these secrets that I can't keep.

like in my heart there's that hotel suite

and you lived there so long

it's kinda strange, now you're gone

There's not enough stuff exploring how exactly each member of Team Mustang got their positions under him, so I had an idea and ran with it.

WARNINGS: war and death mentions, fatalistic talk/thinking, threats

Read on AO3

Read on Google Docs

Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

- Roughly 8 years ago -

Jean Havoc always thought of himself and his life in one word: simple.

A simple boy from a simple town, born to simple shopkeepers, making a simple living at whatever he was good at. Which was helping out in the family business at first, but after hitting hard times as simple families tend to do, he drafted himself and became a soldier. And for that, there were really only three things you had to be good at: fighting, following orders, and giving them.

He grew into a simple man with simple desires: fight some wars, get a girl, settle down, have some kids, and live a good, simple life like his parents did.

So he was a bit surprised when his humble contingent was selected to serve in East Headquarters under a newly-promoted Lieutenant Colonel by the name of Roy Mustang. He could call it good fortune, but he'd rather blame it on this new commander being shockingly young for the position (barely in his mid-twenties, like Havoc himself), so he probably didn't know any better.

...But maybe he did, since he was also the famed Flame Alchemist and, as the military called him, "The Hero of Ishval."

Havoc and his men were at the very outskirts of the Ishvalan Civil War, but they all heard the stories - awful, terrible stories. After spending enough years in the service, you get sort of numb to stuff like this, but Ishval was an exception in just how... grisly the whole thing was from beginning to end. An entire subset of Amestrian civilians all but wiped from the face of the earth completely, just for trying to push back against unfair treatment from their own government.

Tensions had been rising since Havoc's parents were young, and maybe one could argue that both sides were guilty parties, but all Havoc was concerned about was the fallout. Hundreds dead, even more missing, many of them women, children, elders. In a word - innocents. People that the military were supposed to protect, last time he checked.

Havoc never said it out loud - not even to his own family - but any real, genuine pride he had in his country was gone at this point. He didn't sign up to serve a military that slaughtered innocent people like butchers, no matter how they tried to justify it.

Something needed to change, and fast, before anything worse happens - but alas, if only he were a smarter man. Right now, Havoc was merely the Corporal of a small group of soldiers, and any hopes of making earth-shattering changes to make his country a righteous place again were far-away dreams. But a dream's a dream, he supposes.

He holds onto that hope, small as it is, as he stands abreast his team in East Headquarters' courtyard, all equally tense as Mustang approaches them. They all knew the gist of what this so-called "Hero" did to earn his title and rank, so none of them were particularly looking forward to meeting him - especially not Havoc.

He certainly looks the part, Havoc thinks, as Mustang inspects his contingent one by one. He stands tall and firm, as intimidating a presence as any old General. Especially with his face - stony and expressionless, no doubt hardened by the slaughter he'd participated in.

He won't be broken, Havoc thinks, as Mustang curtly announces the end of his inspection for all to hear. He's made it this far, this hotshot new commander won't scare him. ...Even if he could turn him and his men into cinders with a snap of his fingers, supposedly. He's not nervous...

...Well, just a little bit.

He resists the urge to swallow as Mustang stops in front of him, holds his gaze for a moment, his dark eyes looking out between thin strands of black hair. Something smolders in them, a fire that's probably as black as his soul - piercing, burning, studying. Despite himself, Havoc feels a prickle of heat go up the nape of his neck.

And then, to his surprise, Mustang smiles. "You have good men here, Corporal Havoc," he says, warm and genuine.

Havoc blinks, stammers, but only for a moment. He quickly straightens himself and salutes. "Th- Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, sir."

Mustang's smile widens slightly, softening his eyes. "Just Mustang or Lieutenant Colonel will do, Corporal."

Havoc blinks again. Huh... maybe he's not as scary as he first thought.

---

The next several months are relatively peaceful for Havoc and his men. Serving under Mustang, they find themselves usually sent out for small-time reconnaissance missions and general peacekeeping in the immediate area. It's odd, compared to what they're used to - most commanders are eager to send them out to fight in the nearest conflict, or as reinforcements for a bulwark or occupied town.

Nonetheless, Havoc finds it a relief and counts this as a blessing in disguise, as it's given him plenty of spare time to scope out East City's dating scene. But he's still not quite sure what to think of his new superior.

Mustang seemed so serious at first, but since settling in, he doesn't do much besides the usual office work - inspections, meetings, phone calls, and mountains of paperwork that he's notoriously slow at. And when he isn't working he's a total goof-off, flirting with any attractive woman who crosses his path, going out to bars and taking the women he's wooed out for nights on the town.

He even chats with girls on the phone during work hours! Good grief! Havoc had some discretion when it came to girls, this guy was just shameless!

Havoc's been trying to figure him out for a while. Even now, as he takes his usual afternoon smoke in the break room, seated in a chair near the back. Mustang just... rubs him the wrong way. Like what's his deal? Is he even trying to take his job seriously? No, he must be, he's practically a decorated veteran after Ishval... He just isn't acting like it.

Acting... Hm. Havoc shifts his jaw, bothering his cigarette with his teeth, pondering. That's gotta be what he's doing - an act. Pretending to be a lazy, good-for-nothing skirt-chaser, because...

...Because he's a heartless murderer getting fat off his blood money, like every other commander from Ishval.

- And suddenly the break room door creaks and moves, jostling Havoc from his thoughts and nearly sending him right out of his skin. Even more alarming is who's walking in - Lt. Colonel Mustang himself.

He shuffles in, looking somewhat drained as he nonchalantly pushes the ajar door further open, gazing distantly across the room before catching sight of Havoc. His dark eyes brighten, and he smiles warmly. "Ah- Hello, Havoc," he says.

"Uh, hey- I mean hello, sir," Havoc says, remembering his formalities in time to quickly correct himself and give a half-hearted salute.

Mustang only chuckles dismissively as he strides in, holding the door open for a moment to allow someone else in with him - and sure enough, following closely behind him is 2nd Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, his personal aide and bodyguard.

Havoc's wary of her as well, since her face is as stern and unreadable as Mustang's was the day he met him - except she looks like that all the time. She sticks to Mustang's side like glue, assisting him with daily tasks and accompanying him on official outings, her cold brown eyes always stoic and alert for potential danger.

...But usually, she's just standing by Mustang's desk, watching him as closely as her namesake to ensure his paperwork is completed before the end of the century.

After Havoc's occasional sightings of her practicing at the shooting range, it's obvious that she lives up to the title she earned in Ishval - 'The Hawk's Eye', a sniper who never misses her mark. According to rumors, she graduated ahead of her class before she was even twenty years old to be deployed there, and she's supposedly a good friend of Mustang's from those days.

...In other words, she's another murderer of innocents. More tragic here, since she's an awfully pretty young woman to be so heartless.

That's not what's bothering Havoc, though. What's weird is that Mustang and Hawkeye rarely show up in the break room, much less together. Something's not right here - but Hawkeye gives nothing away, as usual, and greets him with a silent nod before moving to the counter to use the coffee pot and surrounding cupboards.

Meanwhile, Mustang plops himself down into one of the cheap chairs near the center of the room, but not too far from where Havoc's seated. The oncoming summer heat seems to be getting to him, as he loosens a few of his uniform's buttons and pulls it apart, exposing his undershirt and some of his neck.

"God... all this paperwork's killing me," he says with a deflating sigh, sinking back into the chair.

"I'd think you'd be prepared for the workload, sir," Havoc responds, smirking in his direction.

"I guess I should have been," Mustang says, shrugging nonchalantly.

After a pause, he looks over, jerking his chin. "So, how's your day been, Corporal?"

Havoc raises an eyebrow. Small talk, huh? Sure, he'll play along. He makes a show of relaxing as well, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.

"Oh, same as usual. Training the new guys, keeping the older ones busy, seein' as we aren't getting a whole lot of action lately." He side-eyes Mustang, hoping he gets the clue.

Mustang purses his lips, nodding. He doesn't seem to catch it. "Mm. Good to hear. Are the new recruits doing well?"

"Well enough."

"Good, good... Any complaints so far?"

"Nothing much, besides the usual. Weather sucks, uniforms're too stuffy, y'know."

Mustang looks down at his own open uniform. "Well I can vouch for that," he says, chuckling heartily. Havoc joins in with his own forced laughter.

But the mirth dies as quickly as it came, and an awkward silence settles in, broken only by the bubbling of the coffee pot and Hawkeye idly tapping the counter. Havoc shifts, but says nothing, hoping that Mustang will break the silence with whatever business he's really here for.

Sure enough, Mustang glances around awkwardly before meeting Havoc's eyes again. He studies him for a moment, then leans forward slightly.

"Ah... How about we drop the titles for a few moments, Jean? Talk man-to-man, as it were."

Havoc blinks at him. "Huh?"

"Lieutenant, if you please." Mustang lifts a hand, signaling to Hawkeye, and she nods, turns off the coffee pot and strides over to the break room door. She locks and closes it with an ominous click, then stands firmly next to it, stern and wary as always. Meanwhile, Mustang leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, interlocking his fingers. He narrows his eyes - and now that old flame's back in them. That burning, studying look that Havoc saw months ago.

Havoc swallows lightly as he looks between him and Hawkeye, feeling every bit like a wild 'coon caught in a trap it didn't see coming. He does his best to keep a straight face even as his heart begins to thump in his ears.

"...What's this about, Mustang?"

Mustang shrugs lightly. "Oh, not much. I just wanted to ask you something."

His mouth drying out and the room closed off, Havoc wisely decides to take his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out against his boot. After tossing it into his ash tray, he sits back, jerking his chin. "...A'right, then. Shoot."

Something sparkles in Mustang's dark eyes, and he smirks. "What do you think of me, Havoc? Be honest."

...Well that's a loaded question if he ever heard one, Havoc thinks. Your boss locks you into a room with him and his bodyguard and demands your honest opinion of him? May as well be asking, 'where'd you like me to leave your body - the city dump, or a river?'

Havoc shifts his jaw, despite not holding a cigarette in his mouth anymore. If he lies, Mustang will probably see right through it and press him harder. But if he's honest like Mustang wants him to be, there's a chance he'll go easy on him for complying. And he may as well get some things off his chest.

Havoc leans forward, stares his boss dead in the eye and says evenly,

"...Honestly? I think you're full of shit, Mustang."

You could hear a pin drop in the ensuing silence.

Mustang's smile doesn't waver, though. Even widens a little. "...Really, now?"

Not angry, huh? Well, Havoc may as well get it all out. "Yeah. You came in here all serious and shit months ago, but all you do is sit on your ass and goof off with chicks all day. And I can understand that as another man, but you? You're shameless."

Mustang just nods slowly. What, is- is he actually liking this? Bastard... Havoc feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Feeling braver - and angrier - he continues.

"That's not all. Your so called 'heroics' in Ishval? My men and I, we heard the stories. We heard what the grunts saw, not the Generals. You were a monster. Whole villages reduced to dust with a few little flicks of your fingers. Men, women, children, everyone. Dead."

Mustang's smile drops into a thin line, but he's still nodding. Havoc feels his blood boiling at this point, clenching his hands on his knees.

"And I don't know about you, sir, but I like to think that what I do is honorable. I uphold the law, I protect people. Citizens. Those Ishvalans? They were citizens too, under the law. Y'all can call it a war till yer blue in the face but as far as I'm concerned, that was a massacre."

Finally, something dark and distant passes over Mustang's face, and he stops nodding.

"...Yes, it was," he says, almost whispering.

Havoc jerks to his feet, fists clenched, ignoring how Hawkeye tenses at the door. "So you agree, then? That yer a goddamn murderer without a drop of remorse in yer goddamn body?!"

Mustang only frowns in response, still staring at him. Then he slowly rises to his feet, carefully readjusting and closing his uniform. He says nothing.

Havoc can't stand this anymore. "Well?! You gonna say something to defend yourself? Or- Or maybe you already know there's no point, after what you've done."

Mustang regards him for a moment, then reaches a hand into his pants pocket. Havoc feels a rush of panic - he knows he keeps his Alchemy gloves there. He's watched Mustang use them here and there at official demonstrations: he'll coolly walk into the center of an arena, pull his white gloves out of his pockets and onto his hands, red transmutation circles emblazoned on their backs. Then with a snap and a flash of light, he'll summon tongues of flames and explosions of any size and force he wants.

This is it, Havoc thinks. He's going to die here. But he'll be damned if he doesn't go down swinging.

Despite the fear gripping every bit of his body and sending him deep into the throes of his fight-or-flight response, he strides toward Mustang, sidling up so his chest is almost flush with his own, daring to put his face right in front of his.

"So that's it, huh? You gonna kill me now?" Havoc hisses, narrowing his eyes.

Mustang jerks back at the sudden closeness, but stands his ground. He lifts his head to meet Havoc's eyes, and at this distance, Havoc can see every detail of his face clearly. The creases around his eyelids, the sharp pupils of his black eyes, the sweat building on his brow. He can even feel the quick breaths from Mustang's nose against his lips.

Havoc jerks his eyes and head toward Hawkeye at the door, still speaking in a low, dark voice. "Didn't want your goon over there to get her hands dirty, right? I've seen 'er at the shooting range, best shot I've ever seen. But you know that'd leave too much of a mess, don't you? So instead yer gonna turn me into a nice li'l pile o' dust so I clean up nice an' easy."

Mustang only narrows his eyes, but Havoc can sense his breath hitching slightly, see his throat working, his lips pressing together. At this distance he can see that they're not as thin as Havoc assumed, sort of... soft, pliable. Pink-ish in color. And Mustang's actually significantly shorter than him, Havoc realizes vaguely, so it wouldn't take much, just a jerk of his chin and a lean forward, and he could-

...Wait, what is he-

Havoc jerks back, puffs out his chest, pushes away a vaguely flustered feeling that he blames on his highly emotional state. He keeps his eyes even with Mustang's.

"W- well do it, then," he sniffs. "I've said my piece. I got no regrets."

There's a beat of silence, the tension so palpable that Havoc can hardly breathe anymore. He glances between Mustang's hand still in his pocket and his face, his expression still unreadable. Havoc keeps his face tight, defiant. His senses fade around him, and all that seems to exist now is him, Mustang, and the sound of his heart in his ears. He flinches as Mustang's hand suddenly moves again, and pulls out-

A napkin.

...Wait, what?

Havoc just... stares, slack-jawed, as Mustang wipes his brow with the napkin, sighs long-sufferingly, then deposits it back into his pocket. Then he looks back up, clearing his throat, looking very tired, suddenly.

"No, Jean... My days of being a murderer are over," he says thoughtfully.

Havoc... doesn't know how to respond.

Mustang leans on one hip, lifts a finger to point at him. "You are right, though. About everything. And if I'd intended to get rid of you, that's probably how I would've done it. You're a smart man, Jean."

Havoc just... gapes at him. "Y... You're not- What?"

Mustang lowers his hand, smirking. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. Either of us."

Then he straightens and folds his arms behind his back, smiling serenely. "Sorry for the scare, I just uh- needed to test you. And I must say, you passed with flying colors, Jean. In fact, I'm thinking of giving you a promotion, if you don't mind."

"T... T- Test?" Havoc stammers uselessly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He looks between him and Hawkeye at the door and- Wait, is she smiling? Holy shit, she is. For once, Hawkeye's stern face wears a small, knowing smile, and her eyes are warm and mirthful instead of cold and distant.

When he looks back at Mustang, his eyes sparkle with inner laughter as well. "Has it ever occurred to you, Jean, that there is more to me than meets the eye?"

Havoc stammers again. "I- yeah, but... But you... and Ishval..."

The sparkles fade, along with Mustang's smile. "Yes, I did do all those things in Ishval. And I can tell you now that not a single part of me is proud of that, any of it. But if anything decent's come out of that hellhole, it's this-"

Mustang unfolds his arms, taps his forehead with a finger. "A plan. One that, if successful, will see me rising to the highest echelons of this godforsaken government, where I can enact change that will turn this country into something that both of us can be proud of again. A place of peace and justice, where the Ishvalan War, or any war, will never happen again. No more innocents will die, Havoc. I can promise you that."

Havoc feels his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "You- You don't mean... the Führer?"

Mustang nods, his eyes burning again. "Oh yes. I do."

He glances and nods in Hawkeye's direction. "But I can't do it alone. I need people on my side to help me get there. People I can trust, not just with my life or my orders, but with my ambitions. This will be dangerous in every possible sense, Jean."

Then Mustang's smile returns in its brightest form yet as he regards Havoc, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin, looking at him as if he were something... special. Like a grand treasure he's just discovered, a trophy he's won.

"...But from what I've seen? I think you're up for it," he says.

Havoc just... stares at him, breathless again. What he'd thought was a cage meant to kill him was a challenge that he'd risen to meet without even realizing it. He'd guessed correctly that his superior was putting on an act, but he'd misjudged his intentions completely - Mustang made himself seem lazy and shameless not to hide his inhuman cruelty, but so no one would ever suspect the earth-shattering ambitions hidden beneath his surface. Not his superiors, and certainly not his own subordinates. And maybe that in itself, the misjudgment, was part of the act too.

Something swells in Havoc's chest, and it must be pride, he thinks. Mustang was trusting him, simple ol' Jean Havoc, with those ambitions now. No one else, besides Hawkeye.

He's... Mustang... He's nothing short of incredible. There's no doubt about that, now.

...But he's not worth spacing out over like an idiot, Havoc realizes, and he blinks himself back into existence before he makes himself look even more foolish. He straightens quickly, and gives Mustang the best salute he can muster. "I- I- I'll do my best, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang sir!"

"I know you will," Mustang says, still smiling at him. "Now, let's head back to my office. There's much to discuss."

And that was how Havoc gained the title of 2nd Lieutenant, and more importantly, an absolute shitload of admiration and respect for his superior.

#jeanroy #royvoc #royhavoc #roy mustang #jean havoc #jeminy writes

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fardell24b · 3 years ago

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Candace OWCA Agent - Lawn Gnome Beach Party of Terror

Lawn Gnome Beach Party of Terror

“Good Morning, Agent M,” Monogram said. “Lawn gnomes across the Tri-State Area are disappearing, leaving thousands of gardens unprotected against black magic. We suspect Doofenshmirtz. Get right on it.”

‘Are you sure it’s Doofenshmirtz, not someone else?’ Candace thought as the screen changed.

‘Doofenshmirtz not present in his building.’

“Then where is he?”

Stacy Hirano and Jenny Brown arrived at the Flynn-Fletchers. They saw Phineas and Ferb put the finishing touches on the beach they were constructing. “Hey, Where’s Candace?” Stacy asked as she came up to Phineas.

“I’m not sure. She was inside earlier,” Phineas said.

“I know she was,” Stacy said, thinking on what she had been saying about Suzy and Katie. She knew that Candace didn’t really spend time with either of them. “But I wanted to tell her that we passed Jeremy and his buddies with their surf boards.”

“Cool,” Phineas said.

Stacy glanced at the water, where she could see her overachiever sister with the other Fireside Girls in her troop. She supressed a sigh and turned to Jenny. “Let’s see if Candace is in her room before we go to the water.”

“Sure,” Jenny said.

Candace had disguised herself as a lawn gnome before waiting at the side of the house. Phineas and Ferb had outdone themselves again. The beach was totally bustable! She had seen Stacy and Jenny talking to Phineas but hadn’t heard what Stacy was saying. She sighed. Then suddenly she was falling. Doofenshmirtz had fallen for her plan.

Jenny knocked on Candace’s door. No response. She looked to Stacy, who shrugged, so she opened the door. “She’s not here,” she said.

“I’ll call her,” Stacy said.

As she arrived where Doofenshmirtz was, Candace felt her phone vibrate. She knew it was Stacy, but there was no option but to let it go to voicemail.

“Wow, that’s a large one!” Doofenshmirtz said, as he came to Candace.

“Guess again, Doofenshmirtz!”

“A teenage girl?” Doofenshmirtz said, confused. “You sound familiar…”

Candace whipped off her disguise.

“CANDACE FLYNN the teenage agent!?”

“That’s me! Your nemesis,” Candace said in a dour tone.

“You are mine now!” Doof said as he held up a remote. He pressed the button, but a garage door rolled up.

“Of course,” she said. She pressed a button on her watch, and the location of the room was indicated. It was beneath the empty lot next door to home. Below where Phineas and Ferb had created their beach, but at a higher level than her OWCA Lair. Both were accessible to the cave system that permeated the ground beneath Danville.

“No, you are mine now!” A television turned on.

“Get on with it,” Candace said.

“Wait, Agent Flynn. You are mine now!” A cage then came down.

She looked over it, as she waited for Heinz to tell her another part of his terrible past.

Stacy waited before calling Candace a second time. Then a third time. “That’s strange,” she said. She turned to Jenny and found that she was looking out the window towards the beach.

“Maybe she’s down there now,” Jenny said. “I hope Phineas and Ferb have used fresh water!”

“Only one way to find out,” Stacy said as she went to the door. “And hopefully we’ll find Candace.”

Jeremy Johnson arrived at the Flynn Fletchers. The beach that the boys had created looked just like a real one. ‘Wow!’ he thought. He knew he would get some surfing in. Then he saw Stacy Hirano and Jenny Brown come out of the house. He waved. They both came over. “Hi, Stacy,” he said.

“Hi, Jeremy,” Stacy said. “Doing some surfing, I see.”

“Yes.”

“By yourself?” Stacy asked.

“Probably,” Jeremy said. ‘Is Candace here?’ he wondered.

“Let’s get this beach party started!” Phineas said.

“Wave machines?” Jeremy said. “They’ve gone all out,” he said to Stacy and Jenny.

Jenny dipped her finger in the water and licked it. “Fresh Water!”

“Environmentally friendly too,” Jeremy said.

“Wouldn’t want sea salt getting into the groundwater,” Jenny said.

“But I still can’t see Candace,” Stacy said. “Maybe she’s hiding…”

Backyard Beach.

Candace listened as Heinz told her more of his past. “…But those were lean times for my father and our beloved lawn gnome was repossessed. Who would protect our zatzenfruit garden from those witches, spells and wood trolls? From a tender age, my father decided that it would be me. Like if he saw me moving…. ‘Bewegen Sie nicht!’ he would say in an urgent and condescending tone! While the other children played Kick-the-Schtumpel and eat Doonkelberries, I would stand for hours…”

“She’s still not here…” Stacy considered as she watched Jenny’s brother join the surfing contest that had started.

“Maybe she’s getting their mom,” Jenny pointed out.

“I certainly wouldn’t put that past her,” Stacy considered.

“We could call her again…” Jenny stopped and then exclaimed. “That Buford!”

“What?” Stacy asked. She looked and saw the van Stomm boy laying into Django on his surfboard, just before the two of them were wiped out. “Ginger says he’s been getting more annoying.”

Jenny ran to the water, where Django crawled out. “Are you OK?” she asked.

Django stood up, allowing Jenny to hug him, as she glared at Buford.

“…Oh, Kids today and their holographic projections,” Stanky Dog said.

Phineas won the surfing competition. He looked over to where Ferb was organising activities. It was a good day!

Jeremy came to Stacy and Jenny again. “Was your brother OK?” he asked.

“He’s fine now,” Jenny answered. “But that Buford, something needs to be done.”

“I’m not sure what,” Jeremy said. ‘Although he is afraid of Suzy for some reason.’ That wouldn’t help.

“We’re going to see if Candace comes home,” Stacy said.

“Sure.”

35 - 45 feet below, Candace looked at the Destructinator after Heinz had revealed it. She picked the lock of the cage with her hairpin and moved into action. “You’re not taking out your frustrations on the people of Danville!”

“Haven’t you said something like that before?” Heinz asked.

“Uh!” Candace said as she leapt at Heinz.

After a brief tussle, the setting on the Inator changed from ‘suck’ to ‘blow’.

‘Uh oh!’ Candace thought. She knew what happened when settings were changed on an Inator. ‘Where’s the self-destruct button?’

Back on the beach, a mound appeared in the water. “Is that a volcano?” Isabella Garcia-Shapiro asked incredulously. She didn’t think Phineas would do something too dangerous.

Then lawn gnomes began erupting from the mound. “Gnomes!” Stanky Dog cried out. “It’s Gnomageddon!”

‘Really?’ Isabella thought as people started running.

“Here it is,” Candace said as she pressed the self-destruct button. “See you, Heinz. Agent Flynn is out!” She then made herself scarce.

“Curse you, Candace Flynn!”

The Destructinator then exploded…

As a result of the Destructinator exploding, the cave began to collapse. ‘Uh oh!’ Heinz said before making himself scarce.

The collapse of the cave below caused the water at the beach to drain away. It was fortunate that the explosion of lawn gnomes had caused the people to vacate the water. “Looks like the beach party’s over,” Phineas said.

“At least everyone was out of the water,” Isabella said.

“That was quite lucky.”

As Candace emerged from one of her lair tunnels into the backyard. “Hi, Mom!”

“Is something going on there?” her mother asked.

“Phineas and Ferb have built a beach!”

“I know!”

“With wave machines and everything!”

“Really Candace? I will be there in a minute.”

“Yes!” She said as she hung up. She turned around and saw that people were leaving. “What happened?” she asked Phineas.

“Lawn gnomes erupted everywhere, and then the water drained away,” Phineas explained. He pressed a remote and the side fence folded up.

“Candace!” Stacy called out.

Candace turned and saw Stacy, along with Jenny and …Jeremy! She blushed.

“Where were you?” Stacy asked as she ran uo.

“Um, I was a little busy…” Candace dissembled.

“I called a few times!” Stacy said.

“Oops!” Candace said.

“You missed a spectacular beach party,” Jeremy said.

“Really?” Candace asked.

“Your brothers went all out,” Jenny answered.

“I heard,” Candace added.

Linda Flynn entered the backyard to see nothing unusual. Candace was being her usual self. “Hey boys!”

“But but but!”

#candace flynn #fanfic #francis monogram #heinz doofenshmirtz #isabella garcia-shapiro #jenny brown #jeremy johnson #lawn gnome beach party of terror #linda flynn #phineas and ferb #phineas flynn #stacy hirano

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ferbracket · 1 year ago

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Doofenshmirtz Bracket Incorporated

Fireside Girls Disguise

Domestic

#pnf #phineas and ferb #doofenshmirtz #heinz doofenshmirtz #polls #polls on tumblr #tournament polls #Doofenbracket #Night of the Living Pharmacists #She's The Mayor #Fireside Girls Disguise #Domestic #0xdv0x22 #Doofenbracket Round 3

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t-thehistorian-in-training · 5 years ago

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1. Oh god, I honestly have no idea. I remember in 5th grade telling everyone I wanted to be a geologist because I liked fossils but in all honestly I hated the math and science behind that. I just wanted to look at the old animals and plants. I can remember in 3rd grade my best friend going to colonial Williamsburg after the American girl doll felicity. I was jealous of her trip, and the movie made me upset because it didn’t talk in detail about the American Revolution. I would come home from elementary school and ask to watch documentaries.

2. History major

3. Colonial America until about the Spanish American war.

4. Um I am still super new to learning everything I can sooo.. Deborah Sampson. She disguised herself as a man and fought in the AmRev.

5. I LOVE IT. That’s my concentration/focus of my history major . There is so much strategy and interconnectedness through war and the military. Advancements of battlefield technology lead to better medical practices, modern nation building.

6. How do we know the one hanging up in my room isn’t the real one?

7. I wouldn’t want to change how anything happened. I think everything happens for a reason. I would love to hear Washington’s farewell speech, Lincoln’s Gettysburg address, FDR’s fireside chats, Patrick Henry, walk the streets of 1700’s Boston.

8. Nelson Mandela. From the little I know about him he is amazing and I love him so much. I feel like even with out drinking any conversation I could (have) had with him would have been incredible.

9. I haven’t written many history papers to be honest. (My high school teachers never required it and I haven’t actually starts talking any classes for my major yet, just my GenEd’s). I have made a 15 minute video on the Culper spy ring and why they were so critical in the AmRev. It discusses what would have happened if their intelligence failed to reach Washington or if they were ever uncovered.

10. I love the Culper Spy Ring, and so little is actually known about a few of the members. Intelligence collection and espionage are super cool. But I would also be interested in the military history or martial law of the colonies before the revolution and how that impacted day to day life.

-HISTORY QUESTIONNAIRE-

1. When did your love for history begin?

2. Are you a history major? minor? (If not, what are you studying)

3. What is your favorite era to study/learn about?

4. Favorite historical woman and why

5. What are your thoughts on military history?

6. Would you steal the Declaration of Independence?

7. Would you rather time travel back to a historical moment and just relive it or go back and change the outcome of it?

8. If you could get black out drunk with a hisotrical figure who would it be and why?

9. What’s the longest history paper you’ve ever written?

10. If you could write a book about any event or person who would it be and why?

#t talks #history

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felixluis · 6 years ago

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afterspark-podcast · 6 years ago

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G1 Episode 2: Transcript

Episode Show Notes

[This can also be found on AO3!]

Stinger:

S: What’s your favorite thing out of Rescue Bots so far?

O: Is-is this not feline sleepwear for cat’s pajamas or something?

[Intro music plays]

O: Hello and welcome to the Afterspark podcast, an episode by episode recap of the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon. I’m Owls!

S: And I’m Specs!

O: Today we’re going to be talking about episode number 2, More than Meets the Eye Part 2. Let’s talk about giant robots today, shall we?

S: Yeah, yeah, let’s do it.

O: Last time on the Transformers, if you remember, because presumably you listened to us talk about how giant advanced robots clearly can’t see a planet coming.

S: Uhm-hm.

O: The Autobots and Decepticons have crash landed on Earth and re-engaged in their eons long fight of good versus evil~

S: [snickering]

O: And we open--back on the oil rig, where we left last time, and everything is on fire.

S: Yup. Cue various Autobots and humans stuck among the oil rig wreckage. [sighs]

O: Which by stuck, I mean giant robots are being somehow stuck by flimsy little pieces of metal compared to them?

S: Somehow--somehow trapped, they are unable to lift this. [sigh] I don’t know.

O: I don’t know either. Anyway! So then, everything’s on fire. I believe I mentioned that. Uh, and they decide to put fire out by shooting at it.

S: And it works somehow. I mean, the Autobots would obviously make bank if they could mass produce Wheeljack’s fire suppression system. Cause he just, like, does one pass, and he’s like [sound effect] of foam. O: Of foam and all the flame goes out. And this was not a small fire, because oil rig.

S: Yeah, I mean, I guess this is how he prevents his own lab fires from getting out of control?

O: Which would make sense or the Ark should have exploded, long, long, [chuckles] long ago.

S: Or Iacon.

O: Or Iacon, probably Iacon. So then, we gotta save the squishies. Uh, and Optimus suddenly forgets how to swim.

S: With the meager, meager weight of two humans.

O: Which are Sparkplug and uh, Spike, right?

S: Yup.

O: And then he’s gotta be rescued by Jazz’s grappling hook, which will show up a couple of times in this epis--in like the next couple of episodes.

S: Um-hm.

O: Um.

S: [snickers]

O: So, then the Autobots bring the two back to the oil rig and proceed to imprint upon the first squishies they see. Optimus Prime proceeds to give Sparkplug and Spike what I can only describe as the Autobots’ elevator pitch of, “We’re the good guys, we’re fighting the bad guys, we’ve been fighting the bad guys for-freaking-ever.” [laughs]

S: Pretty much. [laughs] And then the humans are like, “We know more about Earth than you do.” And that’s basically the excuse used for literally every other human character that shows up in any other series.

O: Unfortunately.

S: Yeah.

O: [laughs]

S: Yeah.

O: There are good human characters, but then there are bad ones. I’m thinking of the bad ones right now. [laughs]

S: [laughs]

O: So, the Autobots, imprinting upon their squishies, clearly bring them back to their base and we see Spike monologuing to himself while he writes in his diary.

S: Yeah.

O: It then cuts to Soundwave. As he creeps on--

S: [laughs]

O: A sixteen year old boy. Who is, I repeat, writing in his diary. [chuckles]

S: Yup. [chuckles] And while Spike is--Spike while he’s outside an alien base decides to pick up technology--AKA this super fancy boom box, which is Soundwave, admittedly--that he doesn’t recognize and brings it inside. [laughs]

O: Of which, I can only assume that Soundwave, when trying to come up with a plan to get into the Autobot base said to himself, “Oh wait! I know how to get in here by doing absolutely nothing.” [laughs]

S: And he actually does this multiple times in uh--like he does this in the Marvel comics too. He uses, like, two workers to get, like--he’s--he’s just waiting in a parking lot, and one of them’s like--

O: [snorts]

S: here’s this really cool 8 track tape player. I’m going to pick it up, take it past all of these guns, and all of these soldiers with guns, and I’m going to stick it my locker.

B: [laughter]

O: And then the locker explodes later, right? [laughs]

S: Yes, yes it does, and Soundwave unleashes his cassettes and, like--he broadcasts the transmission of him doing all of this stuff in this base, for you know, psychological warfare purposes I guess.

O: [laughing] Okay-

S: But that’s--that’s where that really great, like, contrapposto--

O: OH, got it.

S: --panel of Soundwave came from. [laughs] But yeah, Soundwave. Soundwave is totally big on very--disguises that don’t take a whole lot of effort. And apparently this is just one of his main hobbies, or tactics I guess?

O: I mean if it works, I can’t even blame him.

S: I mean we’ve got two examples out of two pieces of media, so I guess it works...

O: Well, I know he does it in the IDW comics too.

B: [laughter]

S: Oh true!

O: I read that! I know he does! So, yeah--

S: True. Oh god, and I think they do about the same thing in the movies, but it’s with Frenzy.

O: Yes...

S: Yeah, that’s how Frenzy--

O: Something like that.

S: That’s how Frenzy gets on the President’s plane or whatever.

O: Oh god--YEAH, yeah that’s right. I don’t think I realized that was Frenzy, I am going to completely delete that from my brain now. Moving on!

S: [laughs] At least I’m pretty sure it’s Frenzy? But yeah, let’s get back on business! And so Spike wants to know more about the Autobots and Cybertron and so the Autobots decide to show off for their new--their new buddy--their new pet, umm, I guess.

O: And uh, the Autobots are like, “Wow! Earth is really pretty,” and I swear to god Spike’s just like, “Yeah, yeah, Earth is nice but tell me more about your awesome alien planet.”

S: Pretty much, pretty much, he’s--he’s super impressed with--with Hound’s hologram projector and then--

O: [laughs] I think you mean ‘hoelo-gram’

S: ‘Hoelo-gram’.

O: This will be a theme.

S: Probably, yeah. [laughs] And then Hound takes Spike for the ‘ride of his life’. [sighs]

O: Why--why are all the robots in this episode so inappropriate to Spike!?! I don’t understand. We’ve got Soundwave, we’ve got Hound--it’ll be Hound again later!

B: [laughter]

S: I don’t think--I don’t think Hound’s intending to be, it’s just the subtext, except that yeah that screenshot from later is definitely one of the classics. Yeah. But they go see a lovely sunset on this ride. I mean it’s truly beautiful. It’s lovely, and then they get back.

O: So Soundwave, now being in the Autobot base because Spike brought him in--the front freaking door! [laughs]

S: And just left him there without telling anyone.

O: [laughs] Right! Not like I’m gonna take this home--I’m going to leave this over here for no fucking reason. Anyway! Soundwave transforms back into robot mode and ejects Ravage, who--turns into a panther, and then turns back into a cassette tape and hops into the Autobots’ computer to steal information as a cassette tape. Which, yes, I know, I know some old computers did this, but dear lord I didn’t grow up during that time period--so at this point in time in the year of our lord, 2018 it’s just fucking ridiculous because I have no context.

S: [snorts] Neither do I, oh my god. And then, Spike and Hound have come back and Spike catches Soundwave stealing information, and he strikes a pose!

O: ~Draw me like one of your French girls Soundwave~

S: Such contrapposto, I mean he’s like a model.

O: It’s very pretty. So Soundwave and Ravage now try to make their escape. The Autobots capture Ravage...

S: Except like, the first two times they kinda can’t? Or at least two minibots can’t.

O: They catch him eventually though.

S: Yeah after they make people turn on their headlights and their infrared.

O: Yeah. So then we cut back to the Decepticons, cause Soundwave has clearly returned, as they gather round Soundwave, who’s playing a cassette tape that I presume is not Ravage, because he’s been captured, for their Earth history lesson.

S: And they’re glued to the radio like a 1940’s family listening to the President’s fireside chats.

O: [snorts] Only, you know, they’re all giant robots.

S: And one of them is a warlord.

O: And one of them is the cassette deck! [laughs]

S: [laughs] Yeah-

O: Anyway, so uh, Starscream says something stupid--don’t remember what it was, all I remember is that at some point during the scene Megatron is like, [terrible Megatron impersonation] “Your knowledge is only overshadowed by your stupidity, Starscream!” Because of course he does. Um, and after listening to all of--to the like, Earth history lesson from Soundwave, Megatron’s brillant scheme is to steal energy from a power plant. By making a tidal wave hit a dam.

S: [groans] That’s not how that works!

O: I don’t know how he expects...any of this to work? I really, truly, do not, because of course the tidal wave is going to destroy the dam and how do you get the energy? And I don’t know???

S: But I did really like Soundwave’s sort of descriptive hand motion for that, I mean that was….quite nice?

O: Soundwave dispatches Rumble to start a tidal wave. Of which, by the way, Soundwave just shouldn’t be allowed to come up with operation names because he literally ejects him from his tape deck going, “OPERATION TIDAL WAVE.” Which just sounds completely freaking ridiculous.

S: Yup-- and Rumble gets to be a dick to dams.

O: [laughs] The Autobots notice something’s going on so they’re gonna go investigate and then we cut back--so then we basically cut from the Decepticons, to the Autobots, back to the dam and the dam begins to fall apart from like, the force of the water.

S: Uh-hm, and one of the humans hits a malfunctioning read out, like that’ll make it work better?

O: Definitely! Definitely, that’s how you fix everything, you just hit it. [laughs]

S: Percussive maintenance. It’s a thing.

O: The Decepticons attack. Uh, Megatron announcing himself only--as only he can. And by attack I mean, they burst through the wall like the god damned Kool-Aid Man and then Megatron shoots the ceiling...because he can!

S: [laughing] Yup, yup, that’s--that’s Megatron. And-and the dam is, as this happens the dam is crumbling because somehow Rumble’s attack is, well, whatever the hell he’s doing is apparently working. I mean maybe he’s just destabilizing the dam concrete?

O: I have no idea, but I swear it was the same shot as, like, the previous one of the dam crumbling. And it was just like, “We’re gonna show this again.” [laughs]

S: Hey they have to save some money, so...yeah.

O: So then, one of the humans explains to Megatron that the dam is going to LITERALLY explode and Megatron is happy about this because the electricity output is going to be at its peak.

S: And, well, I mean the human that’s talking to Megatron--he either super cares his work, or he just does not give a shit [laughs] about how squishy he is.

O: Because, again, forty foot robot, or thirty foot, or however fucking tall Megatron is--he’s very tall. Anyway--I would like you to stop for moment and say--HOW is any of this okay!?! [laughs]

S: That’s not how dams work! At all! Ever.

O: I guess we have to forgive the alien overlord for not understanding shi-Earth shit for a little while? [laughs]

S: Well, yeah, they probably don’t have water on Cybertron, maybe something else?

O: I don’t know.

S: Erm, I don’t know, there’s the sea of rust? I think there’s a mercury sea? It’s been a while since I actually looked at any of my, uh, the books--

O: Yeah, I don’t know.

S: -that go into Cybertron.

O: Uh, so [clears throat] the Autobots show up, by flying to the rescue.

S: Question mark, question mark, question mark. [sighs]

O: This will not be consistent, later in the series they make it relatively clear that only the Decepticons are able to fly, so, yeah this is fun.

S: Yeah, yeah. With the exception of Swoop, Skyfire, and Sideswipe’s jetpack. [Specs forgot to mention the Aerialbots among a few others here.]

O: [laughs] We’ll get to that! So Hound goes swimming to try to get Rumble, and then Ironhide and Bumblebee attempt to channel the water [from the dam] by shooting at the ground using Ironhide’s BUTT BEAM.

S: [laughs]

O: I mean trunk gun! [laughs]

S: [laughs] Aha, butt beam--

O: [laughs]

S: Butt beam, [laughs] butt beam! [laughs]

O: This works...somehow, even though the channels cannot possibly be that deep!

S: I mean, it’s a valid--it’s a valid strategy but I don’t understand how it would work cause they’re just like, zzt, zzt, zzt, zzt, zzzt! It’s sending things off at sort of weird right angles?

O: It just, it just doesn’t look very ‘effective,’ is the word I think I’m looking for.

S: Yes.

O: But anyway, it works.

S: Somehow. Special ground penetrating laser.

O: [snorts] His BUTT ground penetrating laser. [laughs]

S: [laughs] I don’t know, maybe it’s the same damn laser that comes out of his back later?

O: Ugh, body parts are weird. [laughs] The Autobots go to attack the dam, which is where--or the power plant in the dam, whatever. Where the Decepticons are now and they blast through a wall, door, something, anyway the point of this is--

S: I think it was already open.

O: Oh, okay, well, we see them shooting at what can only be described as Starscream and his mini me. [laughs]

S: [laughs] Yeah, they um, there were lots and lots of animation errors.

O: There’s about to be more! [laughs] So, we then cut to a shot that includes four Reflectors, three Rumbles, and Soundblaster. Allow me to break this down for why this does not work.

S: [laughs]

O: There are only three Reflectors, they’re-they’re the three little guys that turn into the camera. Uh, Rumble is in the water, and there’s only one of him. Soundblaster doesn’t even show up in Generation 1, but he’s basically the upgrade of Soundwave, um, and he’s basically just black. So they color Soundblaster [Owl’s meant Soundwave here] black for this shot.

S: Yeah, and I mean making you go back to rewatch this bit to confirm, confirm it, and the Starscream mini me was kind of hilarious, because your reaction. [laughs]

O: Basically was--what the hell am I looking at? And how do you fuck up this badly!?! [laughs]

S: They’re surprisingly versatile at fucking up really badly.

O: Oh yeah, Soundblaster’s gonna show up multiple frickin’ times, because apparently we can’t color Soundwave right. And then--Megatron, er, Optimus Prime comes busting in and I swear to god he tells Megatron the Cybertronian equivalent of, ‘to fuck off’--

S: [laughs]

O: And it’s beautiful. [laughs]

S: Yup. And then battle breaks out, there’s some elegant gymnastics by Mirage as he battles against, I think Skywarp and Thundercracker?

O: All I know is he’s like flippin’ all over the place [laughs]

S: Yeah, it’s a 10 out of 10 and completely ignores that these weirdos could fly like, five minutes ago. O: [laughs]

S: Because they’re on this catwalk? [laughs]

O: [laughs] And they’re all fine, but they don’t seem to attempt to fly?

S: Yes, cause MIrage gets knocked off, he grabs hold of it [the railing] and does some fancy ass backflips back on and then tosses some other person off, it’s like, yeah...

O: So then, Optimus Prime pursues Megatron, and Megatron Mufasas Optimus Prime, or at least tries to, because, if you’ll remember, like, a shot ago, or two, Optimus Prime was flying. They were ALL FLYING! And everyone’s going to forget that for like, three minutes, because they’re idiots. [laughs]

S: Yup, and Optimus gets to channel some awesome John Wayne around this area.

O: He does sound very John Wayne-ish here.

S: So Starscream shows up with a slingshot to a gunfight but instead of targeting anyone he just shoots it at the machinery.

O: And it works kind of. I-I don't know what's going on here. [laughs]

S: It sets off some sort of chain reaction I think and Megatron is like kind of pissed about it.

O: When is he not pissed at Starscream I think is the better question here.

S: Yeah that's true. That's true.

O: Anyway! So we cut to Megatron and Optimus Prime, um, on top of the dam doing a cunning impersonation of the Rock'em sock'em robots.

S: They truly do. They're just Rock'em sock'em roboting it up, man.

O: And bonking each other on top of the head.

S: So much bonk.

O: So much bonk.

S: It's like the only damn sound effect that they paid the Foley artist for and they were like this will work for everything

O: [laughs] We have to use it for everything! We've only got this one sound effect. Umm, so, then we get to some quality dialogue between Optimus Prime and Megatron with Optimus being like, “You destroy Everything You Touch, Megatron!” and Megatron giving one of my favorite lines I've ever heard him say which is, [terrible Megatron impersonation] “Everything I touch is food for my hunger, my hunger for power!” and I'm just like what the hell am I listening to!?! [laughs]

S: Yeah, and then Meg--Megs and Op fight with weapons that never really show up again, though they do show up in toys that get sold.

O: Toys, uh, they also show up to some degree in, ah, in some of the games later, like Optimus very frequently is using an axe in the games.

S: Oh, and I think--that they might show up in the movie?

O: They might, I dunno.

S: They might, it's been awhile since I watched that.

O: I try to forget I did!

S: Well, are we talking about the cartoon or the Michael Bay movie or do you want to forget--

O: Um, all of them? All of them. [laughs] Anyway, so we cut back to Hound, who's been under water too long apparently? Spike is getting worried?

[Disclaimer: Bumblebee was not out at the time of this recording but we both enjoyed it!.]

S: So he decides that he's going to dive down and help like, his friend the 20-foot tall giant robot.

O: Right! But before that, Hound and Rumble are fighting underwater which basically means Hound ends up with a bunch of rocks on top of him.

S: Somehow.

O: And Megatron finally knocks Optimus Prime off the dam and then he hela-flails the fuck out of there. By this I mean he's swinging the flail above his head, as he like, flies off off the dam. So it kind of looks like like he's flying through the power of hela-flailing!

S: [laughs] Oh the hela-flail, the good old hela-flail.

O: We never see it again. [laughs]

S: Yeah, and then Prime can’t swim again, it’s like water’s his greatest enemy and Jazz needs to rescue him again.

O: Because Optimus is failing at the doggy paddle. [laughs]

S: Yeah, [laughs] he just fucking fails [quietly] oh my God.

O: So--Spike finally reaches Hound, who stuck under rocks, uh, and he moves a rock, underwater in this really, really strong current and I don't know how any of this works--Spike is superhuman!

S: God, I’d almost say he's techno-organic like Sari, [from Transformers Animated] but...

O: [Cackles] Nope, nope--we’re several series off from that!

S: Yeah and I mean, yeah it wouldn't work anyway [snorts] but maybe someone's written fanfiction about it?

O: I mean..would it make some amount of sense? Yes?

S: Possibly, I mean, Sparkplug’s like the world's most interesting man.

O: [laughs] I built a robot in my youth--totally! This is my son. Although, it does kind of beg the question why he would be named Sparkplug and his son would be named Spike, but whatever. Anyway--so uh, Spike saves Hound. Umm, Hound proceeds to give Spike a suggestive back massage to say thank you. [laughs]

S: Well after lifting him to the surface because Spike was like--I need air!

O: There were hand motions.

S: There were hand gestures involved. And yeah this is like the--one of the classic suggestive screenshots this fandom is sort of...maybe not famous for but it’s like one of the--one of the classic ones if you go look for you know, suggestive screenshots.

O: I would like to take a moment to remind you that all of the robots for being inappropriate Spike here. [laughs] Please make them stop. Spike needs an adult. A real adult, not a fucking robot. Anyway, we cut to the Decepticons stealing energy from various locations, uh, Soundwave is Soundblaster again.

S: Um-hm.

O: Oh, there's a whole bunch of Seekers, I have no idea who they are--they're all over the place. There's one shot that's like, are they stealing from trees? There doesn't seem to be an energy source here but okay...

S: There's, yeah, there's a lot of inconsistency running around and it's not very clear.

O: It really isn't.

S: We won’t see any of these other Seekers again.

O: No--well, I think they might pop back up in the back of like other shots?

S: Maybe, but it's never explained.

O: It's never explained. It seemed pretty clear like, how many Decepticons Megatron had with him, then all these other random ones pop up and we’re like where are these coming from?

S: Why are there duplicates?

O: Yeah that too! Why are there 3 Rumbles?

S: Four rumbles actually if we consider that one of them is under water.

O: [Quietly] True. [Normal] So uh, Starscream gets the brilliant of--shooting rocks...rather inefficiently uh, making his spouse mad--I mean his boss.

S: And he’s do--well, he's doing super questionable science cause I mean I don't see him writing anything down. Which I mean, this is relevant in future episodes where it’s revealed--Starscream was a scientist and explorer.

O: You would think this would mean he'd know how to science but we don't really see him science very very often. So, while the Decepticons are arguing, uh, Trailbreaker is spying on them--I mean jacking into Megatron's brain waves, again and, uh, Sparkplug and Spike are in tow for some reason?

S: Hound and Trailbreaker are just super good at overhearing things with their little radio dishes.

O: You-You’d think there be like a blocker or that the Decepticons would have a blocker for this and/or the Decepticons would utilize a similar technique but they don't they usually just send in Laserbeak.

S: [laughs] Hey, he's versatile.

O: He is!

S: And-and Mirage is the spy and we don't really see him eavesdropping on the Decepticons but you did make a good point, which is that he turns invisible so…

O: Yeah, well he can turn invisible so maybe we wouldn't *see* him

S: True.

O: Uh, Megatron and Starscream continue to squabble some more. Uh, at which point Megatron is like, “Assemble the strike force!” or at least I think that was Megatron and we waste a perfect chance for a Decepticon roll call. Waste!

S: Absolutely wasted. And then the Decepticons are on the move, attacking Trailbreaker and the Witwickys. Cuz that's what you do when you’re giant alien robots who are also evil. And then Sunstreaker and Sideswipe arrive to help chase the Decepticon Seekers off basically by, uh, sort of ending up on either side of Trailbreaker and then Sunstreaker’s butt gun comes out. [laughs]

O: [laughs] There's a lot of butt guns in the show what the hell?

S: Trunk gun, trunk gun. [laughs]

O: Trunk gun [laughs]

S: And it's like Sunstreaker’s and Sideswipe’s breakout characterization moment where Sunstreaker’s, “I want to be pretty” stuff comes out and Sideswipe’s just like, “Everything's a joke.” Turn left, only make left-hand turns are right hand turns or whatever.

O: The Decepticons are now mining rubies and making it energon cubes from them.

S: Somehow, yes.

O: Somehow. But this gets better because suddenly we cut to Megatron who while talking about these rubies proceeds to shower himself with...the rubies. Not once--but twice! [laughs]

S: Um-hmm.

O: As I said, rubies are warlord's best friend.

S: And I wrote a haiku. [laughs]

O: Yes!

S: Rubies glitter in A warlord's eye fly they must To please fiendish mind

O: So then we cut back to the Auto...bots. Everything is wrong with his shot. Everything.

S: There's so much. Ratchet’s head isn't colored in and then-then Bumblebees out front but..

O: Also there's another Autobot which we think is Blue Streak--with Bumblebee’s head and by head I mean it's colored yellow and then Ironhide for some inexplicable reason, is topless. And by topless I mean he's colored the wrong color but it makes them look topless!

S: He's gray, his-his chest is colored gray so he looks like he's just, like, unpainted.

O: [laughs]

S: Which is probably the Cybertronian equivalent to being topless? Unless having your armor taken off is the Cybertronian equivalent?

O: So, Bumblebee and Sparkplug are basically picked the infiltrate the mine, to blow it up. Uhh, Sparkplug has worked here to apparently?

S: He’s the world's most interesting man. I mean we came to that conclusion with--hey, he's done oil rigs, he's worked here, where else has he worked? Has he been a secret service agent?

O: I wouldn't doubt it [laughs] considering!

S: Yeah, I mean comic Sparkplug just owns an auto shop. Cartoon Sparkplug is the op--action dude

O: He’s--[an] action hero. [laughs] So basically, while they're trying to sneak in, we see the two Seekers and they’re basically talking about how they want to go home, my poor bois. Uh, the explosion is set but then Thundercracker and Skywarp block the exit and bully the bee...again!

S: With much Bonk because, yeah.

O: Again, it’s the only sound effect they paid for.

S: Yeah. [laughs]

O: So then Optimus sends in Roller, which is like, his little baby, tiny robot that lives in his trailer. And he sends Roller in after Bumblebee and uh--

S: Sparkplug.

O: Thank you. Uh, and then explosions happen.

S: Because of that, uh, that highly technical explosive that they got from Wheeljack, but-

O: Which was set to go off in 60 Seconds?

S: Yes.

O: Which doesn't seem like enough time.

S: Well, you'd think that Bumblebee would be better at infiltrating things, considering that in, like, most of the other generations he's actually considered to be part of the-the infiltration team or something.

O: So shit explodes. Uh, the Decepticons are buried uh, and this knocks Optimus Prime off a hill which is where the episode ends. The next episode, uh, we should to, “Illusions Michael!”, Optimus Prime nearly dying, purple spaceship the second, and ROBOTS IN SPACE (kind of).

S: Kinda.

O: [laughs]

S: [sighs] Yeah and then, yeah.

O: [quietly] Shenanigans will insue.

S: Many shenanigans and also the world's most surprising parachute.

O: [laughs] Yes. All right Specs--what is our fanfic for the week?

S: Okay well, our two fanfiction recommendations for the week are the, “Grunt’s Guide to Warfare,” by Tirya King. Which is set in the G1 cartoon continuity, rated T, it's Gen so there aren't any pairings and the characters are the G1 cast. The summary is, “G1 Some things are universal throughout the galaxy the rules of warfare being some of them. If you wish to be a proper soldier you must learn these very important laws and incorporate them throughout your daily life.” And so, the characters or theme rec for this one was Murphy's Law because so much goes wrong in this episode.

O: Just...so much goes in this episode. [laughs]

S: Yeah...yeah, and then our second recommendation for today is, “Earth studies 101,” by Vaeru. Which is a G1 alternate universe, rated T, and no pairings so it's Gen. Uh, the main characters are an OC, so Evelyn, and uh, the G1 cast. So, it’s--in summary, “It’s a Transformers AU, it’s a Sparkbearer side story,” and if you were listening last week I recommended the first part which ss, “Transformers Juxtaposition” [naturally, also by Vaeru] so to continue the summary, “Professor Evelyn Hughes is accustomed to teaching linguistics but when one is friends with a crew of giant Alien robots one must be prepared to teach lessons of a very different sort. Drabbles and one shots,” and the theme for this one was, “We know Earth better than you!” That quote.

O: [laughs] Will live in infamy.

S: It will! But so those are our recommendations for today. I hope you enjoy them I mean review the fics and let the authors know that you liked it.

O: I think we're going to be doing fan art every other episode since we're doing artists instead of stories and it's just less of them overall. [Instead of just doing a few art pieces we’re recommending a singular artist.]

S: And that just about wraps it up for us today. Remember to check out our Tumblr at Afterspark-Podcast.tumblr.com for any additional information, show notes or links we may have mentioned. You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter at AftersparkPod (all one word) and SoundCloud and YouTube at AftersparkPodcast. Till next time!

O: I'm Owls!

S: And I'm Specs.

O: And come back and we'll talk to you more about giant robots.

S: Toodles!

#transcript #afterspark podcast #g1 episode 2

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

Text

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

When Toad found himself immured in a dank and noisome dungeon, and knew that all the grim darkness of a medieval fortress lay between him and the outer world of sunshine and well-metalled high roads where he had lately been so happy, disporting himself as if he had bought up every road in England, he flung himself at full length on the floor, and shed bitter tears, and abandoned himself to dark despair. `This is the end of everything' (he said), `at least it is the end of the career of Toad, which is the same thing; the popular and handsome Toad, the rich and hospitable Toad, the Toad so free and careless and debonair! How can I hope to be ever set at large again' (he said), `who have been imprisoned so justly for stealing so handsome a motor-car in such an audacious manner, and for such lurid and imaginative cheek, bestowed upon such a number of fat, red-faced policemen!' (Here his sobs choked him.) `Stupid animal that I was' (he said), `now I must languish in this dungeon, till people who were proud to say they knew me, have forgotten the very name of Toad! O wise old Badger!' (he said), `O clever, intelligent Rat and sensible Mole! What sound judgments, what a knowledge of men and matters you possess! O unhappy and forsaken Toad!' With lamentations such as these he passed his days and nights for several weeks, refusing his meals or intermediate light refreshments, though the grim and ancient gaoler, knowing that Toad's pockets were well lined, frequently pointed out that many comforts, and indeed luxuries, could by arrangement be sent in-- at a price--from outside.

Now the gaoler had a daughter, a pleasant wench and good-hearted, who assisted her father in the lighter duties of his post. She was particularly fond of animals, and, besides her canary, whose cage hung on a nail in the massive wall of the keep by day, to the great annoyance of prisoners who relished an afterdinner nap, and was shrouded in an antimacassar on the parlour table at night, she kept several piebald mice and a restless revolving squirrel. This kind-hearted girl, pitying the misery of Toad, said to her father one day, `Father! I can't bear to see that poor beast so unhappy, and getting so thin! You let me have the managing of him. You know how fond of animals I am. I'll make him eat from my hand, and sit up, and do all sorts of things.'

Her father replied that she could do what she liked with him. He was tired of Toad, and his sulks and his airs and his meanness. So that day she went on her errand of mercy, and knocked at the door of Toad's cell.

`Now, cheer up, Toad,' she said, coaxingly, on entering, `and sit up and dry your eyes and be a sensible animal. And do try and eat a bit of dinner. See, I've brought you some of mine, hot from the oven!'

It was bubble-and-squeak, between two plates, and its fragrance filled the narrow cell. The penetrating smell of cabbage reached the nose of Toad as he lay prostrate in his misery on the floor, and gave him the idea for a moment that perhaps life was not such a blank and desperate thing as he had imagined. But still he wailed, and kicked with his legs, and refused to be comforted. So the wise girl retired for the time, but, of course, a good deal of the smell of hot cabbage remained behind, as it will do, and Toad, between his sobs, sniffed and reflected, and gradually began to think new and inspiring thoughts: of chivalry, and poetry, and deeds still to be done; of broad meadows, and cattle browsing in them, raked by sun and wind; of kitchen-gardens, and straight herb-borders, and warm snap-dragon beset by bees; and of the comforting clink of dishes set down on the table at Toad Hall, and the scrape of chair-legs on the floor as every one pulled himself close up to his work. The air of the narrow cell took a rosy tinge; he began to think of his friends, and how they would surely be able to do something; of lawyers, and how they would have enjoyed his case, and what an ass he had been not to get in a few; and lastly, he thought of his own great cleverness and resource, and all that he was capable of if he only gave his great mind to it; and the cure was almost complete.

When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one's ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries. Toad sat up on end once more, dried his eyes, sipped his tea and munched his toast, and soon began talking freely about himself, and the house he lived in, and his doings there, and how important he was, and what a lot his friends thought of him.

The gaoler's daughter saw that the topic was doing him as much good as the tea, as indeed it was, and encouraged him to go on.

`Tell me about Toad Hall," said she. `It sounds beautiful.'

`Toad Hall,' said the Toad proudly, `is an eligible self- contained gentleman's residence very unique; dating in part from the fourteenth century, but replete with every modern convenience. Up-to-date sanitation. Five minutes from church, post-office, and golf-links, Suitable for----'

`Bless the animal,' said the girl, laughing, `I don't want to TAKE it. Tell me something REAL about it. But first wait till I fetch you some more tea and toast.'

She tripped away, and presently returned with a fresh trayful; and Toad, pitching into the toast with avidity, his spirits quite restored to their usual level, told her about the boathouse, and the fish-pond, and the old walled kitchen-garden; and about the pig-styes, and the stables, and the pigeon-house, and the hen- house; and about the dairy, and the wash-house, and the china- cupboards, and the linen-presses (she liked that bit especially); and about the banqueting-hall, and the fun they had there when the other animals were gathered round the table and Toad was at his best, singing songs, telling stories, carrying on generally. Then she wanted to know about his animal-friends, and was very interested in all he had to tell her about them and how they lived, and what they did to pass their time. Of course, she did not say she was fond of animals as PETS, because she had the sense to see that Toad would be extremely offended. When she said good night, having filled his water-jug and shaken up his straw for him, Toad was very much the same sanguine, self- satisfied animal that he had been of old. He sang a little song or two, of the sort he used to sing at his dinner-parties, curled himself up in the straw, and had an excellent night's rest and the pleasantest of dreams.

They had many interesting talks together, after that, as the dreary days went on; and the gaoler's daughter grew very sorry for Toad, and thought it a great shame that a poor little animal should be locked up in prison for what seemed to her a very trivial offence. Toad, of course, in his vanity, thought that her interest in him proceeded from a growing tenderness; and he could not help half-regretting that the social gulf between them was so very wide, for she was a comely lass, and evidently admired him very much.

One morning the girl was very thoughtful, and answered at random, and did not seem to Toad to be paying proper attention to his witty sayings and sparkling comments.

`Toad,' she said presently, `just listen, please. I have an aunt who is a washerwoman.'

`There, there,' said Toad, graciously and affably, `never mind; think no more about it. I have several aunts who OUGHT to be washerwomen.'

`Do be quiet a minute, Toad,' said the girl. `You talk too much, that's your chief fault, and I'm trying to think, and you hurt my head. As I said, I have an aunt who is a washerwoman; she does the washing for all the prisoners in this castle--we try to keep any paying business of that sort in the family, you understand. She takes out the washing on Monday morning, and brings it in on Friday evening. This is a Thursday. Now, this is what occurs to me: you're very rich--at least you're always telling me so--and she's very poor. A few pounds wouldn't make any difference to you, and it would mean a lot to her. Now, I think if she were properly approached--squared, I believe is the word you animals use--you could come to some arrangement by which she would let you have her dress and bonnet and so on, and you could escape from the castle as the official washerwoman. You're very alike in many respects--particularly about the figure.'

`We're NOT,' said the Toad in a huff. `I have a very elegant figure--for what I am.'

`So has my aunt,' replied the girl, `for what SHE is. But have it your own way. You horrid, proud, ungrateful animal, when I'm sorry for you, and trying to help you!'

`Yes, yes, that's all right; thank you very much indeed,' said the Toad hurriedly. `But look here! you wouldn't surely have Mr. Toad of Toad Hall, going about the country disguised as a washerwoman!'

`Then you can stop here as a Toad,' replied the girl with much spirit. `I suppose you want to go off in a coach-and-four!'

Honest Toad was always ready to admit himself in the wrong. `You are a good, kind, clever girl,' he said, `and I am indeed a proud and a stupid toad. Introduce me to your worthy aunt, if you will be so kind, and I have no doubt that the excellent lady and I will be able to arrange terms satisfactory to both parties.'

Next evening the girl ushered her aunt into Toad's cell, bearing his week's washing pinned up in a towel. The old lady had been prepared beforehand for the interview, and the sight of certain gold sovereigns that Toad had thoughtfully placed on the table in full view practically completed the matter and left little further to discuss. In return for his cash, Toad received a cotton print gown, an apron, a shawl, and a rusty black bonnet; the only stipulation the old lady made being that she should be gagged and bound and dumped down in a corner. By this not very convincing artifice, she explained, aided by picturesque fiction which she could supply herself, she hoped to retain her situation, in spite of the suspicious appearance of things.

Toad was delighted with the suggestion. It would enable him to leave the prison in some style, and with his reputation for being a desperate and dangerous fellow untarnished; and he readily helped the gaoler's daughter to make her aunt appear as much as possible the victim of circumstances over which she had no control.

`Now it's your turn, Toad,' said the girl. `Take off that coat and waistcoat of yours; you're fat enough as it is.'

Shaking with laughter, she proceeded to `hook-and-eye' him into the cotton print gown, arranged the shawl with a professional fold, and tied the strings of the rusty bonnet under his chin.

`You're the very image of her,' she giggled, `only I'm sure you never looked half so respectable in all your life before. Now, good-bye, Toad, and good luck. Go straight down the way you came up; and if any one says anything to you, as they probably will, being but men, you can chaff back a bit, of course, but remember you're a widow woman, quite alone in the world, with a character to lose.'

With a quaking heart, but as firm a footstep as he could command, Toad set forth cautiously on what seemed to be a most hare- brained and hazardous undertaking; but he was soon agreeably surprised to find how easy everything was made for him, and a little humbled at the thought that both his popularity, and the sex that seemed to inspire it, were really another's. The washerwoman's squat figure in its familiar cotton print seemed a passport for every barred door and grim gateway; even when he hesitated, uncertain as to the right turning to take, he found himself helped out of his difficulty by the warder at the next gate, anxious to be off to his tea, summoning him to come along sharp and not keep him waiting there all night. The chaff and the humourous sallies to which he was subjected, and to which, of course, he had to provide prompt and effective reply, formed, indeed, his chief danger; for Toad was an animal with a strong sense of his own dignity, and the chaff was mostly (he thought) poor and clumsy, and the humour of the sallies entirely lacking. However, he kept his temper, though with great difficulty, suited his retorts to his company and his supposed character, and did his best not to overstep the limits of good taste.

It seemed hours before he crossed the last courtyard, rejected the pressing invitations from the last guardroom, and dodged the outspread arms of the last warder, pleading with simulated passion for just one farewell embrace. But at last he heard the wicket-gate in the great outer door click behind him, felt the fresh air of the outer world upon his anxious brow, and knew that he was free!

Dizzy with the easy success of his daring exploit, he walked quickly towards the lights of the town, not knowing in the least what he should do next, only quite certain of one thing, that he must remove himself as quickly as possible from the neighbourhood where the lady he was forced to represent was so well-known and so popular a character.

As he walked along, considering, his attention was caught by some red and green lights a little way off, to one side of the town, and the sound of the puffing and snorting of engines and the banging of shunted trucks fell on his ear. `Aha!' he thought, `this is a piece of luck! A railway station is the thing I want most in the whole world at this moment; and what's more, I needn't go through the town to get it, and shan't have to support this humiliating character by repartees which, though thoroughly effective, do not assist one's sense of self-respect.'

He made his way to the station accordingly, consulted a time- table, and found that a train, bound more or less in the direction of his home, was due to start in half-an-hour. `More luck!' said Toad, his spirits rising rapidly, and went off to the booking-office to buy his ticket.

He gave the name of the station that he knew to be nearest to the village of which Toad Hall was the principal feature, and mechanically put his fingers, in search of the necessary money, where his waiscoat pocket should have been. But here the cotton gown, which had nobly stood by him so far, and which he had basely forgotten, intervened, and frustrated his efforts. In a sort of nightmare he struggled with the strange uncanny thing that seemed to hold his hands, turn all muscular strivings to water, and laugh at him all the time; while other travellers, forming up in a line behind, waited with impatience, making suggestions of more or less value and comments of more or less stringency and point. At last--somehow--he never rightly understood how--he burst the barriers, attained the goal, arrived at where all waistcoat pockets are eternally situated, and found--not only no money, but no pocket to hold it, and no waistcoat to hold the pocket!

To his horror he recollected that he had left both coat and waistcoat behind him in his cell, and with them his pocket-book, money, keys, watch, matches, pencil-case--all that makes life worth living, all that distinguishes the many-pocketed animal, the lord of creation, from the inferior one-pocketed or no-pocketed productions that hop or trip about permissively, unequipped for the real contest.

In his misery he made one desperate effort to carry the thing off, and, with a return to his fine old manner--a blend of the Squire and the College Don--he said, `Look here! I find I've left my purse behind. Just give me that ticket, will you, and I'll send the money on to-morrow? I'm well-known in these parts.'

The clerk stared at him and the rusty black bonnet a moment, and then laughed. `I should think you were pretty well known in these parts,' he said, `if you've tried this game on often. Here, stand away from the window, please, madam; you're obstructing the other passengers!'

An old gentleman who had been prodding him in the back for some moments here thrust him away, and, what was worse, addressed him as his good woman, which angered Toad more than anything that had occurred that evening.

Baffled and full of despair, he wandered blindly down the platform where the train was standing, and tears trickled down each side of his nose. It was hard, he thought, to be within sight of safety and almost of home, and to be baulked by the want of a few wretched shillings and by the pettifogging mistrustfulness of paid officials. Very soon his escape would be discovered, the hunt would be up, he would be caught, reviled, loaded with chains, dragged back again to prison and bread-and- water and straw; his guards and penalities would be doubled; and O, what sarcastic remarks the girl would make! What was to be done? He was not swift of foot; his figure was unfortunately recognisable. Could he not squeeze under the seat of a carriage? He had seen this method adopted by schoolboys, when the journey- money provided by thoughtful parents had been diverted to other and better ends. As he pondered, he found himself opposite the engine, which was being oiled, wiped, and generally caressed by its affectionate driver, a burly man with an oil-can in one hand and a lump of cotton-waste in the other.

`Hullo, mother!' said the engine-driver, `what's the trouble? You don't look particularly cheerful.'

`O, sir!' said Toad, crying afresh, `I am a poor unhappy washerwoman, and I've lost all my money, and can't pay for a ticket, and I must get home to-night somehow, and whatever I am to do I don't know. O dear, O dear!'

`That's a bad business, indeed,' said the engine-driver reflectively. `Lost your money--and can't get home--and got some kids, too, waiting for you, I dare say?'

`Any amount of 'em,' sobbed Toad. `And they'll be hungry--and playing with matches--and upsetting lamps, the little innocents!--and quarrelling, and going on generally. O dear, O dear!'

`Well, I'll tell you what I'll do,' said the good engine-driver. `You're a washerwoman to your trade, says you. Very well, that's that. And I'm an engine-driver, as you well may see, and there's no denying it's terribly dirty work. Uses up a power of shirts, it does, till my missus is fair tired of washing of 'em. If you'll wash a few shirts for me when you get home, and send 'em along, I'll give you a ride on my engine. It's against the Company's regulations, but we're not so very particular in these out-of-the-way parts.'

The Toad's misery turned into rapture as he eagerly scrambled up into the cab of the engine. Of course, he had never washed a shirt in his life, and couldn't if he tried and, anyhow, he wasn't going to begin; but he thought: `When I get safely home to Toad Hall, and have money again, and pockets to put it in, I will send the engine-driver enough to pay for quite a quantity of washing, and that will be the same thing, or better.'

The guard waved his welcome flag, the engine-driver whistled in cheerful response, and the train moved out of the station. As the speed increased, and the Toad could see on either side of him real fields, and trees, and hedges, and cows, and horses, all flying past him, and as he thought how every minute was bringing him nearer to Toad Hall, and sympathetic friends, and money to chink in his pocket, and a soft bed to sleep in, and good things to eat, and praise and admiration at the recital of his adventures and his surpassing cleverness, he began to skip up and down and shout and sing snatches of song, to the great astonishment of the engine-driver, who had come across washerwomen before, at long intervals, but never one at all like this.

They had covered many and many a mile, and Toad was already considering what he would have for supper as soon as he got home, when he noticed that the engine-driver, with a puzzled expression on his face, was leaning over the side of the engine and listening hard. Then he saw him climb on to the coals and gaze out over the top of the train; then he returned and said to Toad: `It's very strange; we're the last train running in this direction to-night, yet I could be sworn that I heard another following us!'

Toad ceased his frivolous antics at once. He became grave and depressed, and a dull pain in the lower part of his spine, communicating itself to his legs, made him want to sit down and try desperately not to think of all the possibilities.

By this time the moon was shining brightly, and the engine- driver, steadying himself on the coal, could command a view of the line behind them for a long distance.

Presently he called out, `I can see it clearly now! It is an engine, on our rails, coming along at a great pace! It looks as if we were being pursued!'

The miserable Toad, crouching in the coal-dust, tried hard to think of something to do, with dismal want of success.

`They are gaining on us fast!' cried the engine-driver. And the engine is crowded with the queerest lot of people! Men like ancient warders, waving halberds; policemen in their helmets, waving truncheons; and shabbily dressed men in pot-hats, obvious and unmistakable plain-clothes detectives even at this distance, waving revolvers and walking-sticks; all waving, and all shouting the same thing--"Stop, stop, stop!"'

Then Toad fell on his knees among the coals and, raising his clasped paws in supplication, cried, `Save me, only save me, dear kind Mr. Engine-driver, and I will confess everything! I am not the simple washerwoman I seem to be! I have no children waiting for me, innocent or otherwise! I am a toad--the well-known and popular Mr. Toad, a landed proprietor; I have just escaped, by my great daring and cleverness, from a loathsome dungeon into which my enemies had flung me; and if those fellows on that engine recapture me, it will be chains and bread-and-water and straw and misery once more for poor, unhappy, innocent Toad!'

The engine-driver looked down upon him very sternly, and said, `Now tell the truth; what were you put in prison for?'

`It was nothing very much,' said poor Toad, colouring deeply. `I only borrowed a motorcar while the owners were at lunch; they had no need of it at the time. I didn't mean to steal it, really; but people--especially magistrates--take such harsh views of thoughtless and high-spirited actions.'

The engine-driver looked very grave and said, `I fear that you have been indeed a wicked toad, and by rights I ought to give you up to offended justice. But you are evidently in sore trouble and distress, so I will not desert you. I don't hold with motor- cars, for one thing; and I don't hold with being ordered about by policemen when I'm on my own engine, for another. And the sight of an animal in tears always makes me feel queer and softhearted. So cheer up, Toad! I'll do my best, and we may beat them yet!'

They piled on more coals, shovelling furiously; the furnace roared, the sparks flew, the engine leapt and swung but still their pursuers slowly gained. The engine-driver, with a sigh, wiped his brow with a handful of cotton-waste, and said, `I'm afraid it's no good, Toad. You see, they are running light, and they have the better engine. There's just one thing left for us to do, and it's your only chance, so attend very carefully to what I tell you. A short way ahead of us is a long tunnel, and on the other side of that the line passes through a thick wood. Now, I will put on all the speed I can while we are running through the tunnel, but the other fellows will slow down a bit, naturally, for fear of an accident. When we are through, I will shut off steam and put on brakes as hard as I can, and the moment it's safe to do so you must jump and hide in the wood, before they get through the tunnel and see you. Then I will go full speed ahead again, and they can chase me if they like, for as long as they like, and as far as they like. Now mind and be ready to jump when I tell you!'

They piled on more coals, and the train shot into the tunnel, and the engine rushed and roared and rattled, till at last they shot out at the other end into fresh air and the peaceful moonlight, and saw the wood lying dark and helpful upon either side of the line. The driver shut off steam and put on brakes, the Toad got down on the step, and as the train slowed down to almost a walking pace he heard the driver call out, `Now, jump!'

Toad jumped, rolled down a short embankment, picked himself up unhurt, scrambled into the wood and hid.

Peeping out, he saw his train get up speed again and disappear at a great pace. Then out of the tunnel burst the pursuing engine, roaring and whistling, her motley crew waving their various weapons and shouting, `Stop! stop! stop!' When they were past, the Toad had a hearty laugh--for the first time since he was thrown into prison.

But he soon stopped laughing when he came to consider that it was now very late and dark and cold, and he was in an unknown wood, with no money and no chance of supper, and still far from friends and home; and the dead silence of everything, after the roar and rattle of the train, was something of a shock. He dared not leave the shelter of the trees, so he struck into the wood, with the idea of leaving the railway as far as possible behind him.

After so many weeks within walls, he found the wood strange and unfriendly and inclined, he thought, to make fun of him. Night-jars, sounding their mechanical rattle, made him think that the wood was full of searching warders, closing in on him. An owl, swooping noiselessly towards him, brushed his shoulder with its wing, making him jump with the horrid certainty that it was a hand; then flitted off, moth-like, laughing its low ho! ho! ho; which Toad thought in very poor taste. Once he met a fox, who stopped, looked him up and down in a sarcastic sort of way, and said, `Hullo, washerwoman! Half a pair of socks and a pillow- case short this week! Mind it doesn't occur again!' and swaggered off, sniggering. Toad looked about for a stone to throw at him, but could not succeed in finding one, which vexed him more than anything. At last, cold, hungry, and tired out, he sought the shelter of a hollow tree, where with branches and dead leaves he made himself as comfortable a bed as he could, and slept soundly till the morning.

#WindInTheWillows

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