LePlatypus, Mon Amour.

LePlatypus, Mon Amour.

a phineas and ferb X f1 crackfic? si. i don't have much plot at the moment so I thought I would just post whatever I have.. so this is a snippet. if u wanna write the fic dm me! i have ideas but no ambition.

Maximilian Doofenshmirtz had a problem.

Well, he had several problems. His evil lair's espresso machine was on the fritz again, his latest inator had turned his favorite pair of shoes into sentient beings that now refused to be worn, and his daughter Lanessa was threatening to move out if he didn't stop using her room as a storage space for his "Evil Plans That Didn't Work" memorabilia.

But the most pressing issue at hand was the mysterious human who kept showing up and thwarting his evil schemes.

Max had first noticed the man during his attempt to replace all the city's pigeons with robotic versions that would deliver his manifesto instead of defecating on statues. Just as he was about to activate the Pigeonator 3000, the man had appeared out of nowhere, dismantled the machine with alarming efficiency, and disappeared without a trace.

"Who was that?" Max had wondered aloud, scratching his head. "Just some random human? How rude!"

This pattern continued. Every time Max was on the verge of executing a brilliant plan—be it the Mustache-Inator, designed to give everyone in the Tri-State Area a mustache (regardless of gender), or the Reverse-Vacuum-Inator, intended to suck all the air out of a room to make people appreciate oxygen more—the same man would appear, sabotage his efforts, and vanish.

Max was baffled. He had no idea who this person was. He didn't even have a name for him. He was just... that human.

Then, one day, during an attempt to turn all the city's fountains into chocolate fondue stations (because why not?), the man showed up again.

Max's eyes widened in zero recognition.

"A human?!" he exclaimed.

This time, however, he had put on a red fedora with a sigh.

"Charles the Human?!"

Charles, adjusting his fedora, gave Max a bemused look. "I've always been human, Max."

Max blinked. "No, no, no. You're Charles the Human. I recognise you now because of the hat."

Charles sighed. "We've been through this. I'm always me, hat or no hat."

Max waved him off. "Nonsense. Without the hat, you're just some random human. But with the hat, you're Charles the Human, my nemesis!"

From that day forward, Max was convinced that the red fedora was the key to Charles's identity. Whenever Charles appeared without it, Max would treat him as a stranger, even if they had just spoken the day before.

"Who are you?" Max would ask, squinting suspiciously.

"It's me, Charles," Charles would reply, exasperated.

"Charles who?"

"Charles the Human."

Max would shake his head. "Impossible. Charles the Human wears a red fedora. You're just a regular human."

Charles eventually gave up trying to convince Max otherwise. He started carrying the fedora with him at all times, putting it on whenever he needed Max to recognise him.

Their interactions became increasingly absurd. Max would invite Charles over for tea, only to forget who he was if he took off his hat to scratch his head.

"Stranger danger!" Max would yell, throwing a scone at Charles.

"It's me, Max!" Charles would protest, dodging the pastry.

"Prove it!"

Charles would sigh, put the fedora back on, and Max's face would light up.

"Charles the Human! There you are! I was wondering where you'd gone."

Despite the chaos, their relationship developed a strange rhythm. Max would devise elaborate schemes, Charles would thwart them, and they would share tea afterward—provided Charles kept his hat on.

One evening, as they sat on Max's balcony overlooking the city, Max turned to Charles.

"You know, Charles the Human, you're the best nemesis a villain could ask for."

Charles smiled. "Thanks, Max. You're not so bad yourself."

Max nodded, then frowned. "Wait a minute. Who are you?"

Charles groaned. "Not this again."