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#just so you can buy your kid a bunch of shit they'll look at once and then immediately forget about. cool cool cool tight tight tight.
korrasamibottles · 4 months
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Wrote something extremely bitchy in my mind describing in great detail exactly how viciously and viscerally I hate christmas (lowercase) and why, but I chose peace today and didn't post it. Just a shitty little gift from me to you.
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tohisprettyc00l · 9 months
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Hi!
May I please request all the characters reacting to y/n's self-harm scars?
If your not comfortable with that it's cool.
Thank you either way ❤️
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!!Major tw for self-harm!! If you aren't comfortable with that please skip. Also, I'm sorry if I depict anything wrong. And I'm going to exclude Gus and Collecter since it feels weird to do this with the kids.
Amity: Once she saw your scars it didn't occur to her the source of said scars. In fact, she thinks someone else did it and was pissed the fuck off. "Who hurt you." was all she could muster. Once you told her the truth her whole demeanor shifts. She goes from wanting to stab someone to looking like she was going to cry. She wraps you in abomination goop as a makeshift blanket. She was not willing to leave your side for any reason.
Luz: She's basically crying at the scars regardless of who did it. She just hates seeing hurt okay? :( But when she learns you did it she freezes. She doesn't believe it in the slightest. Starts talking about how much she loves you. Granted she's saying 100 words per second so you can only hear bits and pieces of what she's saying. But she gets her point across. That point is: I love you so much and I'm sorry you had to go through that.
Willow: She doesn't mention them once she first sees them. It's none of her business, they all look pretty healed so why push? But a few days later when you guys are just normally talking she casually brings it up. You don't know how to respond. After a few moments, you tell her the truth. And you can see it on her face, the way it hits her like a sack of bricks. The fact that she didn't ask adds to the guilt. But this isn't a moment to focus on herself. She hugs you. The next day she takes you on a really nice date.
Hunter: Once he notices he does (correctly) assume the reason. But he doesn't want to believe himself. It is pretty understandable why you would want your s/o self-harming. But he knows that if he's right but doesn't talk to you he'll regret it forever. So, despite his nervousness, he asks you. He says multiple times that it's "probably not why." His heart sinks when you confirm his fears. You're immediately wrapped in a hug. He keeps talking about how sorry he is that he didn't help, as well as how much he loves you. And he means every word of it.
Vee: She does not dance around the question. Once she sees the scars she just straight up asked, "Why are there scars all over your arms?" So that was very jarring. Once you end up telling her she just stood there. Before wrapping her tail and arms around you. You felt extra secure. She is going to let you know how much you mean to her.
Raine: They know what your scars are from the moment they see them. They don't point the scars out so that you don't get uncomfortable. They do however become way nicer (if that's even possible.) Every chance they get they'll complement you. It's a very obvious but welcomed change.
Eda: Well shit. She's not even going to ask she knows what the scars are from and she's pissed. Not at you, at herself for not noticing. She hugs you and starts apologizing without an explanation. Once she does explain she makes very clear that she's not mad at you and will help you stop.
Emira: Since she's the oldest of the Blight twins I feel like she had a lot of the pressure to be the perfect child before Amity. (Edric was just kinda ignored.) But she didn't have much of a support system so she did have thoughts she never went through with them. But Titan does it break her heart to see you going through that? Her approach was way more gentle than anyone. She staged a mini-therapy for you.
Edric: On the other hand he's pretty clueless. When you tell him he is very sad. He doesn't know what to do but he starts buying you a bunch of things. He wants you to know how valuable you are.
Lilith: She has no clue how to react. She doesn't even know what you did but her blood feels like ice with how many scars you have. She asks what happened and who hurt you. She starts tearing up when you reveal the truth. She ends up cuddling with you and tries to make you feel as secure as possible.
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yoggus · 1 year
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helpful advice for madou saturn if you can't read japanese but your autism demands that you absorb everything on the disc into your genome
courtesy of a guy who's beaten the game multiple times and is now attempting to datamine it
heads up: this is a work in progress. I’ll be updating as i replay the game. currently i’m writing from memory or copying from other sources (linked at the bottom)
first off
sleeping in arle’s bed refills the entire party’s health
press the right shoulder button to show enemy health bars. doesn't work on bosses
beating the game adds a star to the save file, which increases the difficulty and adds some extra content. you have to play it at least twice if you want all the cgs because of draco and witch’s routes having two exclusives each
immediately after the falling star cutscene light the fireplace in arle’s house, then interact with it from the right-front. that’ll open the basement, which has good items behind doors that can be opened by specific party members
炎- Arle
動- Minotauros
打- Rulue
闇- Schezo
水- Suketoudara
音- Harpy
飛- Draco
時- Witch
商- Momomo
光- Lagnus
if you don’t want to keep referring back to this then just remember to go back every time someone joins your party, even if they’ve already opened a door. schezo and tara have multiples
random tips
there’s items hidden behind almost every house
certain enemies can be one-shotted automatically by specific attacks. for instance, sword of darkness OHKOs star puyos, and haganshou OHKOs rock puyos. omae ga hoshii also has a chance to OHKO non-boss enemies
in kokochoi there's a shopkeeper that sells powerful gloves for less than he buys them back for. momomo hangs out in the same town and sells some good shit so take advantage
when momomo joins your party backtrack and have him talk to every traveling merchant you can find. they'll give you free items
also with momomo in the party toss gold into the fountain in refresh town for some armor/weapon stars
there’s a few objects that rulue can punch for extra items. list to be added
code 1608FB26 0F00 disables encounters
overworld abilities
Arle: burns things and melts ice
Mino: can push heavy objects
Rulue: punches things with her big fucking fists
Schezo: dispels ghosts and those weird doors with the runes
Tara: cleans things
Harpy: rings the bells over incubus’s mansion
Draco: can grab things from high ledges
Witch: repairs rusty/dented objects
Momomo: opens a shop menu
Lagnus: refills the party’s special meters
also the plant in arle’s house reacts to most abilities. i dont think there’s a reason for it but it’s kinda funny
optional story events:
most of these really just boil down to ‘talk to a particular npc as a particular character’
21: Mino and the Girl (ミノと少女)
talk to the girl with pigtails in relax town as minotauros
22: Lullaby ( 子守り歌 )
sing to the crying baby in kutsurogi as harpy
23A: Magic Pro ( 魔法のプロ )
tba
23B: Actress Draco ( 女優ドラコ )
tba
24: Creeper!?  ( ヘンタイ! ?)
cut the ropes tying a kid to the side of a house in kokochoi as schezo
25: Let’s Dance ( レッツダンス )
dance for a girl in ando as suketoudara
there’s also few other events with no associated CGs
-before rulue joins the party, raid her room (the locked door in her mansion) as mino and take the star knuckles and sun dress
-a cool friendly nice friend buddy guy is hiding behind the bar in refresh town
-after beating the game once, sleep in arle’s bed with lagnus in the party
-the a.b.g has a bunch of dialogue. idk what it says tho
secret items
in hott village look behind the signpost, then search around the well for a magic crystal
once baby lagnus is freed, go to satan’s tower and look under the throne for some goodies for rulue
in kaiso use draco’s jump behind one of the houses for an onion earring
after beating the game once, bonk one of the rocks in kaiso five times as rulue and a secret room will open
puzzles that don’t translate
during the detective event go to the house in the middle. i encourage you to get it wrong at least once tho because schezo getting beat up is funny
after the detective event when ladies are giving you riddles, pick the middle option for the first (the one with the 3s in the text), the top for the second, and the top again for the third
when CG#13 is shown (the one where schezo is being interrogated near a cave exit) pick the first option, the third twice, the middle once, then the first again.
during the recap in the crystal prison, pick the last option. though there’s no punishment for getting it wrong aside from rulue chewing you out
sources and useful links:
translated item list
translated location list
maps
enemy list
enemy stats/resistances
hidden item locations
other tips
cheat codes
VERY outdated english walkthrough
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awanderingdeal · 2 years
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Rink Ready
And to finish off the trio of Christmas fics, we have Coops and Jules at a winter market. Enjoy! And I hope you have a fantastic New Year.
CW: food, Christmas
Rating: G
Credit for these characters goes to @lumosinlove. I'd like to take this opportunity to say thank you for another year of fabulous fun with this bunch of wonderful beings (imaginary though they are).
Remus was fairly certain he could make a map of the market from memory at this point. Julian was insistent on finding the perfect gifts to take home with him, which apparently meant careful perusal of every single stall. It shouldn't have taken quite so long, but there were light displays, carousels, and (oddly not the most unusual sight they'd seen that evening) a troop of dancing elves to be distracted by. Thankfully, Julian had finally settled on something.
"Jules, let me hold those while you choose," Remus gestured to the bag of churros his brother held. He hadn't believed his brother could possibly eat any more after the bratwurst, the bag of chocolate coated almonds, and the pretzel, but Julian was steadily making his way through them. "We don't need to be getting your grubby little fingers all over the merchandise."
Julian rolled his eyes, "Alright, Dad."
"Just pick," Remus laughed, tapping Julian lightly on the back of the head.
“I like this one for Mom,” Julian hummed, and at Remus’ nod the vendor plucked the felt decoration from its spot and nestled it softly into a paper bag. “And this one for Dad.”
“Good choices, they'll look lovely on the tree,” the vendor smiled, her voice one of those that managed to be soft and welcoming without condescension. Occasionally the thick Gryffindor accent made way for something less familiar. If Remus had to guess, he’d say it was something Slavic.
“I need one more, please?”
“For Rory?” Remus asked. Julian and Rory had met at summer camp this year and had been inseparable ever since. He had never met the famous Rory, but he felt like he had from the amount Julian spoke about her. Still, sometimes he got a sad, twisting feeling in his stomach when he thought about how much of his brother’s life he was missing.
“No,” Julian’s expression fell into the same exasperated thing he took on when Remus was no more help than their parents in explaining some new, modern math technique. “For Regulus."
Of course.
Remus reached for Sirius' churros too, smiling at the slightly stunned, very fond look on his face. "I think Sirius can help with that."
***
“Re?”
Remus slowed his walk, turning towards the source of the questioning utterance. His little brother looked up at him all doe eyed and pink cheeks. The beanie he wore was too big, constantly falling into his eyes now that his hands were too occupied by a steaming cup of hot chocolate to keep pushing it up. Remus had tried to buy him something new, but this hat had once been Sirius, and Remus was pretty sure Julian hadn’t taken it off even once since he’d been gifted it three weeks ago.
“I lost my gloves?”
“Is that a question or a statement, buddy?” Remus huffed a laugh.
Julian pulled his lower lip between his teeth, a habit he’d had since he was toddler. He twisted his whole body as she scanned the floor around him, almost knocking a tankard of mulled cider clean out of somebody’s hands.
“Watch it, kid.”
“Oh,” Julian squeaked. “Sorry.”
Remus felt himself stand taller, squaring his shoulders. The incident had been Julian’s fault, but the gruff admonishment had been entirely unnecessary. He watched as the broad-shouldered man glared at Julian. Just let it go, dude. It’s Christmas. Don’t make me ruin it.
“Yeah, well, watch yourself in -”
“He said he was sorry,” Sirius bit out the words, his arm remaining firm around Remus’ waist as he spoke.
The man looked up properly, eyes widening as he took the two of them in. “Oh, Shit. Sorry, man. I -” he stammered. Remus didn’t need the quick glance at his fiancé to know the steely gaze set on his face. Seasoned hockey players struggled not to cower under it, and this man was no different. “Hey! Could I get an -”
Remus was glad Julian wouldn’t recognise the string of expletives that left Sirius’ mouth.
“Come on, Julian. I will buy you some new gloves.”
“You’re going to spoil him, Sirius.”
Sirius grinned, “And what are little brother’s for, if not for spoiling?”
***
“Look!” Julian said, stabbing his finger towards the ice rink, his hands now clad in a brand-new pair of mittens – scarlet to match his beanie, of course. “Can we go? Please?”
Remus gave a tight smile as he took in the crowded rink. People of all ages stumbled around, pushing off on their blades with a precarious wobble, each step uneasy like a new-born fawn. “We have ice all to ourselves at home,” he tried.
"It's not the same." Julian looked past Remus to Sirius and Remus knew the argument was already lost.
"It's not the same," Sirius agreed. Remus raised an eyebrow, barely containing a knowing shake of his head. "Don't be a Grinch, mon Loup."
"So is that a yes?"
"Ouais," Sirius said. He shifted, adjusting the trinket laden tote on his shoulder. "I can take him if you really don't want to come?"
Remus set his eyes back on the rink, the line to get on growing steadily by the second. The loud, high pitched warbles of an overly embellished cover of Jingle Bell Rock blared from huge speakers, and the blue hue of artificial lighting was giving him a headache even from this distance. "No," he said with a resigned sigh. "I'll come."
It was exactly the nightmare Remus had envisioned, but Julian's beaming smile was worth it. He tried not to think about how many sweaty feet had been squeezed into the skates as he tugged them on.
"I always forget how uncomfortable these things are," Sirius grumbled.
"Regrets?"
"Non." Sirius tipped his head in Julian's direction. He stood a few feet away, practically vibrating with the effort it seemed to be taking to obey Remus' instruction of not running off. "He deserves these memories."
"You do too," Remus said, already scanning the ice. There had been several notice boards as they'd wound through the long line - No cameras on the ice. Professional photography available. He was well aware the photos would be overpriced and taken by underpaid college students, but he wanted one. "Let's go and show these amateurs how it's done." He clapped his hands together, raising his voice for Julian to hear.
"Sirius! I can skate so fast now, I've been practising!"
'We're still working on the modesty," Remus muttered with a small laugh. Sirius' nudge caught him off guard, making him stumble on his skates.
"Thought you were a pro," Sirius teased. "I bet you're faster than your brother now, Jules! I'll race you."
"You can't race here! You're going to get us kicked -" Remus let the sentence trail off into silence, Sirius long gone. So far they'd mostly managed to navigate the crowds with some anonymity, most people weren't looking out for Sirius Black and Remus Lupin on their annual trip to the winter markets after all. Remus had a funny feeling they were about to bust their own cover. Maybe he could just cut that photo of Sirius and Julian from the morning copy of tomorrow's newspaper.
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kitmon · 4 years
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Keys Are Under the Mat {1/?}
Llewyn Davis x OC
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Summary: Struggling singer/songwriter, Llewyn Davis, has faced the rough and tumble world of the music industry as well as the callous hand of life. When an up-and-coming folk singer makes a trip back home and finds herself at the hands of the battered down couch-surfer, her first thought is to offer him a bit of compassion.
Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sexual activity
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“Hold me, while I cry into your coat
Tie the rope round my throat, why don't ya?
Did you even read the note I wrote ya?
Boy, you're my antido-o-o-o-ote
Baby, it's only you I dote"
Her delicate fingers danced along the strings of her amaranth-colored acoustic. It was a fairly new guitar, given to her by a rather close colleague. She used to play at the Gaslight Café exclusively in the late fifties, not because she particularly liked that venue, more so because they were the only ones who gave a fraction of a fuck about her shitty guitar with a few broken strings and a makeshift capo that was made in the bathroom 10 minutes before a show using a sharpie and a rubber band. The crowd was always friendly; never hostile or awkward, just... supportive which was always appreciated on her part. Having people enjoy or at least pretend to enjoy her music was comforting at the time. As of right now, she was only visiting for old times sake, nostalgia purposes.
The new guitar was a testament to the amount of shit she'd been through. I mean signing a record deal is a pretty big deal, right? Having people know your name and buy your album. I mean, she was no Bob Dylan but she'd get stopped in the street from time to time which was unquestionably a step up from the loogies and cat-calls sent her way. Even now, her appearance at the usually humdrum populated café has drawn more attention than anticipated. The seats were all taken and the rather small building held far more people than the fire marshal recommended, but what a turn-out it was.
The audience hummed the chorus, cautious to not tune out her newfangled voice as it continued, nonchalant as ever as if there were only a few unamused patrons sitting in the crowd, but there wasn't. The populace of Greenwich Village loved her. She made a shit-hole like Greenwich something for people to keep their eyes on. And she didn't disappoint.
Her eyes remained lowered as she rather curled into herself and let the song end with a guttural reverberation. There was a silence as her eyelids lifted marginally, letting out a few pants of air to recover. Then an uproar, a surge in applause! She glanced up and flashed a charming smile, one that only showed the top row of teeth and caused her childish eyes to crinkle as she let out a giggle, concealing her laughter from the large array of eyes with her dainty hands. She adjusted herself and lifted a hand to reach the microphone.
"Thank you, you guys are a lovely audience, much nicer than Queens," the crowd let out a dispersed chuckle at her humor and she smiled again at their enthusiasm. She loved this, the feeling of having immense support. It made her feel... alive, to say the least.
"Okay, I'll be back in 20, take it easy while I'm gone." She waved off the crowd, unfurling herself from her guitar strap and handed the instrument to the stagehand, thanking the man afterward. She smoothed out any puckers or creases found in her dress as she stepped down from the stage, heading towards Pappi and another bystander, one who looked as if he'd been sleeping on the floor for days. Poor sucker looked as if he didn't even own a winter coat.
Pappi's arms extended out towards her, inviting her into his embrace. "You did great, kid," her eyes brightened at the compliment as she wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her rosy cheek flush against his chest. The action should have been far more intimate than the two adults interpreted it, and most others would have perceived it that way as well. In fact, most familiars thought Pappi was fucking her most of the time.
Which he wasn't and neither one had ever considered it. Just business partners with an intimate brother-sister bond. Nothing more, Nothing less. The taller man, gripped her by her upper arms to gaze at her, with a gentleness, "Really, gave em a show."
"Aw thanks, Pappi, but I've got to admit that I'd still be singing songs on my back porch if it weren't for this dump." She jested, her hands hanging from her hips. Pappi let out a deep chuckle which was softened by her one-off laugh that wasn't exactly delicate or poised but was attractive in an unorthodox sense. The banter played out until somebody approached Pappi and tugged at the sleeve of his button-up to get his attention. She looked with furrowed brows and a curious expression as the man whispered in Pappi's ear with what appeared to be urgency. Pappi muttered a quick swear under his breath, and looked up at her with an apologetic frown and the same knitted brows she once wore.
"Sorry, kid. There's a few thugs out back making a mess," he patted her on the arm and told her he'd be right back after taking care of the 'mess'. Her head bobbed in understanding as her eyes watched as Pappi followed the man outback and into the fray. Her stare lingered on the door, but it was the serendipitous turn of her head that allowed her to acknowledge the ragged man sitting at the bar. His eyes fixated on the golden hue of the whiskey in his glass. She was almost certain he hadn't moved an inch since she came over, only stayed staring at the same glass of whiskey for at least five minutes. God, he looked like hell. His coat was hanging on by a thread, quite literally. Holes in miscellaneous places, unruly hair that looked like it hasn't been combed in days, shoes that looked soaked by the snow just outdoors and a runny nose that looked like the result of an oncoming cold. His wardrobe fitting flawlessly against the backdrop of the monochromatic greys and tans that made up the scene of New York in the Sixties. He looked familiar, she was sure of that. It was likely he'd played a few gigs at the Gaslight, same as her. Then again there were dozens of scruffy looking musicians who sidled into the Gaslight to perform, this one was hardly any different.
She sucked in a breath through her nose and ambled towards him, "So, you a friend of Pappi's?" Her elbows supported her weight against the hardwood bar, her fingers interlaced with each other as she peered down into the swirling rings of the once tall-standing oak. It took him a bit longer to register that she was speaking to him, "Oh, um, yeah, I guess..." His hand slipping up towards his face to rub at the skin, waking him up. His hooded eyes look over to her and away from that untouched glass of whiskey. Her laugh startled him, unexpected as it was. Her giggle was an unfamiliar sound. It shattered through the blaring car horns outside, the chatter of the audience, even threw the bullshit that spewed out of the radio sitting on the counter across from them. He just stared at her, unaware of just how ignorant someone would have to be to notice all the shit that's taking place everywhere around them and still have something to laugh about. It was selfish, but who wasn't these days. Everyone wanted others to be as devoid of joy as they were. Of course, there were a few stragglers who managed to keep a pep in their step and a smile on their faces. Those are the ones who get broken. They break down so quickly in a place that loses hope quicker than a bucket with gunshots loses water. But, she wasn't ignorant, and he knew this. She just decided to not take anybody's shit. And when nobody gives a fuck whether your dreams are accomplished or not, you learn to say fuck off right back. I guess that's what separates the losers from the winners. Her demeanor and the way she carried herself, with the balloon-sleeves and ruffled collar of her dress shirt, the way it was neatly tucked into her pinafore, it gave the impression that she was... incapable. But she was ten times more capable than almost everyone in that Café.
"If you don't mind me asking," she lifted her hand to wave down a bartender, not making eye contact with him until she knew someone was coming to attend to her request. "Got a name?" Her bright brown eyes locked with the gray and muddied irises of his own and it ignited a raft in his brain, making him adjust his position in self-consciousness.
"Um, yeah. Llewyn,"
Llewyn, Llewyn... she's heard that name before. She takes a sip from her glass of red wine the bartender had passed to her not to long ago. She takes a sip and contemplates why that name sounds so familiar.
"... Llewyn... Davis?"
It had slipped from her lips before she could even register it. And it surprised him, far more that she knew who he was. He couldn't remember meeting her or introducing himself to her before but then again, he was a performer. Not a very popular or reputable one mind you, but a performer none the less. She'd probably seen him at the Gaslight once before or something.
"Uh..., yeah... Hey, how'd you, um?"
"Oh, um I think I might own one of your albums. Inside Llewyn Davis, right?" The mention of his less than successful solo artist debut was a bit upsetting but he just dismissed it and looked away. "Yup... that's the one." His voice sounded disappointed and beaten but who could blame him. Chasing a dream so far that it only leads you to a dead-end can be frustrating.
"You know, I really enjoyed it," she mused, much to his disbelief but it must have only been out of politeness. "That makes one of us," he mutters, his frown dropping a millimeter or so. She couldn't decipher what he was referring to, but she could tell that whatever it was, it had sucked the rest of his joy and drive out of him. The business will do that to you, take a starry-eyed kid and promise them a dream only to drop them on their ass and tell them they'll never be more than a stand-in gig for a bunch of nobodies.
"I really loved the song— oh, how'd it go?" She pondered, the way her thick eyebrows scrunched up in concentration giving her the wonders of a child. The same way her determination to prove the potential the album had was childish. But it was the truth, she did enjoy the album and even recommended it to a few friends back when she bought it, now it just sits in a blue milk crate next to her record player, collecting dust. He gazed at her expectantly waiting to hear her utter at least a single lyric from his album.
"Oh!" She snaps her fingers in triumph, startling Llewyn once more. "It goes," and she readied her voice with a clearing of her throat and sang what she could remember. "Hang me, oh hang me, I'll be dead and gone," his eyes widened a bit at the surprise of her actually acknowledging his music, and the fact that she enjoyed it, no less. "Hang me, oh hang me, I'll be dead and gone," the lilt in her voice echoed through the Café and a few patrons stopped their chatter to cherish her sweet voice. The silence stuck around for a beat and her eyes fluttered open after her display.
"Yeah, that's it!" Her outburst wasn't expected and nearly knocked Llewyn out of his seat for about the fifth time.
"Yeah," he muttered, letting his eyes linger on her form a moment longer than he'd like to admit, brows furrowed in thinking. "Whad'ya say your name was again?" He questioned, curiosity getting the better of him. And there was that damn giggle again, opening his eyes to a whole new world of possibilities where you can giggle and laugh about things without having to feel sorry about the lack of a difference it makes. She answers and it's just nothing special but at the same time it feels like... a novelty. "Dorothy.”
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anistarrose · 6 years
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Imagine if Ford and Stan switch bodies, like Dipper and Mabel did. How do you think they'll react?
I know this ask wasn’t intended to be a full blown fic prompt, but my hand slipped so here’s almost 1.5k words of Kid Stans and one of Ford’s first inventions to ever go horribly/hilariously wrong!
“I still dunno about this whole twin telepathy thing,” Stan whispered to Ford as they crouched in the closet of the school’s science lab, waiting for the janitor to leave. “Mom says it’s not supposed to start happenin’ until we’re older — if it even does at all.”
“But there were psychic twins who were younger than us in a bunch of those age-inappropriate horror novels we read last summer!” Ford replied in a hushed voice. “And those wouldn’t lie, would they?”
Stan’s retort was interrupted by the lab’s main door slamming closed as the janitor left, and the two boys burst out of the closet, gasping for air.
“Finally, sweet freedom!” Stan declared, and then added, “Seriously, Poindexter, would it kill you to wash your dumb stinky jacket once in a while?”
Ford ignored him and pulled out from his pocket a small, rectangular device with several exposed wires on it. “My hypothesis is that as twins, we automatically have the potential for a telepathic connection, but for one reason or another, our minds aren’t properly synchronized for it at the moment. But this device will fix that! Just a few finishing touches, and our family should have two more psychics!”
Stan opened a bag of toffee peanuts. “Yeah, how long are these finishin’ touches gonna take?”
“Not long,” Ford assured him. “I already did everything I could at home — I just need to borrow a couple parts that I didn’t have there. Hey, rub off these alligator clips with some steel wool, would you? They look kind of rusty.”
It only took Ford about five minutes to complete the project, which was somehow enough for Stan to both clean the equipment and scarf down the entire bag of peanuts.
“Tape this to your forehead,” Ford instructed Stan, handing him a wire, and Stan gave it a wary look.
“You’re not gonna, like, fry my brains so bad they leak out of my ears, right?”
“Sweet Moses, no! There’ll be a series of shocks applied to both of us at the same time, in order to synchronize our minds, but they’ll be very mild — only about as strong as the static electricity you encounter every day.”
“Are you rubbing your wool socks all over the carpet every day? ‘Cause I sure ain’t,” Stan muttered, but he did as Ford said and taped the electrode to his forehead.
“Alright, time to make history!” Ford declared as he fiddled with the device’s hastily attached dial.
“When we get psychic powers I’m gonna make you wash your jacket,” Stan told him.
“Telepathy isn’t mind control, Stanley… alright. Stay as still as you can for the next sixty seconds, starting in three, two, one…”
In the thousandth of a second between him flicking the On switch and the synchronizer responding, Ford had just enough time to think the famous last words: I wonder if this is a good idea.
Then everything went white, and it was no longer a matter of wondering.
***
Ford got back up to his feet, blinking and rubbing his head. He felt cold, and his vision was blurry, but he could see Stan facedown on the ground just a few feet away from him, holding onto Ford’s invention tightly.
“Oh my gosh! That — that wasn’t supposed to happen! Stanley, are you okay? I’m so sorry — I should have tested it before — I didn’t think it would —”
Stan groggily lifted his head, and Ford’s worry turned into pure, undiluted confusion.
“Did you… take my glasses? When did you even have time to do that? Was I — was I unconscious? Did I —”
Stan gave him a look like some kind of startled owl, then looked down to stare at the device in his hands… no, not at the device. At his hands themselves.
It was at that moment that Ford finally noticed that he could feel a gap between two of his teeth, and that “Stan” was also wearing his brown jacket. He raised his hands to count his fingers, and for the first time in his life, the result was the normal number.
“Stan, am I in your body?!” he blurted out, even knowing there was no other possible explanation.
“You tell me, Sixer! It was your invention!” Stan responded. “Wait, except I’m Sixer now, aren’t I? Whoa. That’s weird!”
Ford shuddered. “We’ve got to fix this! Quick, give me the synchronizer! It might be able to switch us back if we run it on the same setting again!”
Stan looked to the device still gripped tightly in his hand. “Uh, I hate to break it to you, Poindexter, but I dunno if this thing’s gonna be much help. It’s kinda… smoking?”
“Shit!” Ford yelled, and despite everything, Stan laughed. “No, shoot! I meant shoot! I didn’t just swear!”
“Ha! You’re me now, you gotta deal with my potty mouth!”
Ford felt like slamming his head on the lab desk. “Stanley, can’t you just stop wisecracking for a moment and take this seriously?! And — and for the love of Tesla, drop that synchronizer before it blows up in your face!”
His voice came out angrier than he meant it to, and Stan nodded guiltily, setting the device down on the table a decent way away from them. Ford used a glass rod to flick the switch to the Off position, and sighed.
“Okay, I think that if it was going to explode, it probably would have happened by now. But I don’t think it’s going to be salvageable either, and since clearly it wasn’t operating as planned when it switched us… I don’t know if I’m going to be able to rebuild it the same way to switch us back.”
Stan put a six-fingered hand on his shoulder. It was a strange sensation, to finally know what it felt like to Stan when Ford patted him on the shoulder or the back.
“Hey, if anyone can, it’s probably you, Poindexter. And in the meantime, it’s not like we’re not already great at pretending to be each other!”
He adjusted his — Ford’s — glasses. “Okay, watch this: ‘Hello, I’m Stanford Pines! Do you have any books about aliens here? My classmates say they don’t exist, but they’re just buying into what the government wants them to think!’ See, Ford, I could do this for years!”
Ford shook his head, but couldn’t help but smile. “As if I’d go around just admitting that I don’t believe their brainwashing. You never know who could be listening to that kind of thing,” he replied, deadpan.
“See, it ain’t so bad,” Stan told him. “You’ll figure out a fix eventually. And besides, I’ve always kinda wanted six fingers.”
“What?”
“‘Cept I don’t wanna, like, steal them from you, so of course I hope you do get us switched back — yeah, Ford! Why wouldn’t I?”
Stan poked him in the shoulder. “Stanford? Something wrong?”
Ford shook his head. “No, it’s just…”
He couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth, to say I was afraid we’d be stuck like this forever, and you’d start getting bullied instead of me and start to hate me for it and realize how much of a freak I really am —
But then again, he wasn’t really afraid of that anymore, was he?
“No, I’m… I’m fine, now. Thanks, Stanley.”
Stanley blinked at him (did he really look that much like an owl?) and nodded slowly. “Uh, I don’t really know what you’re talking about, but… you’re welcome, I guess!”
Ford smiled. “Honestly… we should probably head home now. I think I might work better after a night of sleep.”
“Yeah, plus I only bribed Shermie with five bucks. He’s only gonna cover for us until dinner and not any longer.”
“Well, then, I guess that settles it.”
***
“Stan, are you you again?”
“Yep, back to a boring five fingers.”
“Well, then I’m getting rid of this.” Ford pulled the batteries out of the synchronizer, wrapped the stray wires around it, and drop-kicked it into the science lab’s brick wall. “Good riddance!”
“Sixer, what the heck was that for? You could’ve sold that for a ton of money! Or even just, I dunno, impressed your teachers a whole lot with it?!”
Ford shook his head. “It took too many tries to get this one to work again. It’s not working consistently enough to be shared with anyone, and I’m… not up for more experimentation. At least not now. But… I might revisit it in the future.”
“That’s the spirit!” Stan cheered. “I’m sure you’ll be better with lab safety by then — what could go wrong?”
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