Give me Atlas's Exchange Rate For Exchanging Weight!! (If someone else already picks that, give me Burn Notice. 👁️👁️)
first come first serve!! atlas's exchange rates is a fic i really want to write but alas, def needs to be multichapter. and. well. *glances at my other multichaps languishing with no updates yet* y'know. and also i still need to figure out details and wording of the magical plot-starting mcguffan.
Older, paler, infinitely more tired than the young grinning face Ford always thought back to, but it was Stanley’s face. Some might say he knew it as well as his own, very literally. Really, he had always known it better than his own. Back then, anyway. This face was alien in all the subtle and unsubtle changes time provided. Ford leaned back from the mirror. Stanley’s eyes were bad—not as bad as his own, but still bad. With a little distance all the differences blurred away. Once, in a fit of sleep-deprived mania during a particularly brutal period of college, Ford had needed reassurance Fiddleford couldn’t provide. Back then, Ford locked himself in the bathroom and took off his glasses, dropping them in the sink basin in his carelessness. He looked at the blurry face in the mirror. “‘s alright, Sixer,” he once told himself in the mirror, his impression of Stanley still perfect. “You’ve got this! You and yer big brain are gonna figure it out.”
basically, an au where early into his fun month of torture, ford rediscovers an artifact that he thinks will let him get rid of bill/will send someone to help him. in fact, the artifact ends up swapping ford and stan's body long distance. now stan is in ford's body back in the cabin, and ford is in stan's body in a seedy hotel currently being actively stalked by a criminal gang angry at him for bailing on a deal. not great. they both need to deal with the other's problem before being sent back to their right bodies.
luckily, putting stan in ford's place and ford in stan's place turns out to be the equivalent of introducing invasive species to a new environment.
