#mindswap

Ruby: No Shit Ruby!

Blake: Hey! Watch your-My Tongue Yang!

Weiss: God this feels so weird. I've never been this short.

Weiss: ...

Weiss: I've never been this Short.

Weiss: WEISS!

"From that final lap of senselessness, he emerged with a full understanding of his situation. His mind was imprisoned in the body of a frightful native of an alien planet, while, somewhere on the other side of the universe, his own body was housing the monster’s personality.

He fought down an unreasoning horror. Judged from a cosmic standpoint, why should his metamorphosis horrify him? Life and consciousness were the only realities in the universe. Form was unimportant. His present body was hideous only according to terrestrial standards. Fear and revulsion were drowned in the excitement of titanic adventure.

What was his former body but a cloak, eventually to be cast off at death anyway? He had no sentimental illusions about the life from which he had been exiled. What had it ever given him save toil, poverty, continual frustration and repression? If this life before him offered no more, at least it offered no less. Intuition told him it offered more—much more.

With the honesty possible only when life is stripped to its naked fundamentals, he realized that he remembered with pleasure only the physical delights of his former life. But he had long ago exhausted all the physical possibilities contained in that earthly body. Earth held no new thrills. But in the possession of this new, alien body he felt promises of strange, exotic joys."

I'm very fond of Tebra's erotic and semi-erotic artwork. American Knight, the former Captain America, is one I'm especially fond of.

I have found some images that weren't made by Tebra (artwork by others, photographs) which I have made into "honorary" American Knight images.

I like the idea of Captain America's body being stolen, and his mind being dropped into the body of Nightshade, a figure inspired by 1970s "Blaxploitation" films.

It’s not until Marvin makes his way to the nearest mirror when he sees exactly how badly he messed up. His hair is far too short, his clothes feel too tight, and...he’s grimacing at the giant Spiderman-tattoo going down Chase’s right arm.

“Chase...” Marvin groans to himself. He then pauses, eyes opening wide. “Shit, CHASE!” He bolts from his room and into Chase’s room, right in time to see a lightning flash through the bottom of the doorway. It’s followed up by a loud, joyous cackle.

Person’s body has glasses/terrible eyesight? Imagine having to get used to that for a person who’s always had 20/20 vision.

Opposing sex? Having internal organs literally shifted around in completely different ways.

Less/more limbs than the person normally has? Don't even get me started.

Summary: Draco Malfoy is bored out of his mind in his eighth year at Hogwarts. After a prank gone wrong, he discovers that Harry's life isn't really that much better than his own. As they try to keep their friends from realizing that they've somehow swapped minds, they find it's easier to spend time together. Becoming friends comes naturally. But are their friends really as fooled as they believe? Complete at 5 chapters; will post a chapter a day all this week as a birthday present to myself.

Part 1 (You are here)~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4~ Part 5~

-Part 1: Monday-

A fly buzzed around the windows of the new Potions classroom, hurling itself futilely against the glass. Draco found himself wishing he could do the same. Salazar, he was bored. He sighed, propping his head on his hand, fighting to keep his eyelids from drooping. His attention wandered from the lecture again and he found himself watching dust motes dancing in the beams of golden late-afternoon light.

Thank Merlin this was his last class of the day. Staying awake through double Potions right before dinner was turning out to be nigh impossible. Especially on days like this when the sun had heated the room and turned it stifling.

Professor Slughorn’s voice droned on, listing the properties of something-or-other in painfully exhaustive detail. Merlin. The man was worse than Binns. Nearly, anyway. At least Binns could be relied upon to turn a blind eye to the eighth-years’ increasing absences. Draco had been ducking out of History of Magic for weeks now, joining most of his classmates out on the grounds.

Kat’s mind tried to feed Box Boy little tricks to break the spell on the door to Ichabod’s office. When he was younger, Mama told Box that chimeras had a slightly higher aptitude for magic because of their origins as early alchemists’ screwy experiments, as curses from gods, and their being borne from magic in general. Most modern practicing witches, wizards, sorcerers, and magicians were chimeras, Merlin legacy descendants, or came from a spooky background.

While Mama could always cast a few basic spells, Box’s brain stalled and stuttered like a dying car engine anywhere near magic. The concepts could be straightforward. A spell could be a few simple steps, hand gestures, and words, but when he tried to cast, there was an extra, molasses layer to everything. He felt like he was waving his hand through mist and blindly grasping for something solid.

Mechanics, math, and science came far more easily. Those had a tangible, concrete logic. Problems had solutions he could craft with his own two hands. Magic could be...slippery. Kat claimed that magic had logic and recognizable patterns. Most of the world’s best sorcerers were also scientists and mathematicians. Maybe the math those sorcerers enjoyed was the kind that led to models of fifth and sixth dimensions and abstract concepts that also hurt Box Boy’s head and felt similarly impenetrable.

He felt the overwhelming urge to dig at his nails as Tate stared at him, waiting impatiently. Kat...that’s such a bad habit, he thought. It was so odd when Kat’s anxieties and feelings crept through, feeling almost indistinguishable from his own thoughts, his feelings, his consciousness.

He stared at the crackling green energy buzzing around the door knob again, trying to ignore the other, fresher desire to take Tate’s hand. He wanted to brush his fingers against the fabric of those fingerless gloves. They probably had a really scratchy texture. Some part of Kat agreed with him, intensifying the want to touch or kiss Tate again in some way.

“My mom uses spells like this all the time,” Tate said with a wry smile. “I have a hex-cracker at home. It breaks most of her lock charms, no matter what new thing she tries. I’ll sneak it in with me sometime and we can try this again. I need you to find out what spell this is, though. So we can cover our tracks. I doubt the hex-cracker can recreate one of Pumpkinhead’s spells.”

“Your mom’s a sorceress?”

“Yeah.” Tate blew air out of his nose. “She’s a famous one. The very last apprentice Morgan Le Fey ever took on.”

“I’m not familiar with her,” Box Boy said. “Your mom.”

“Really?” Tate tugged at his collar. “That’s surprising. I thought Pumpkinhead would be gunning for her spot in Lakewood’s top 10 sorcerers. Considering he’s the foremost magic expert at POINT. He’s only a few spots lower than her…”

“He’s….” Box Boy tapped his chin. Ichabod was cagey and particular about his magic, but he didn’t strike Box Boy as the competitive type. He was more the “leave me the hell alone” type to anyone he didn’t like. At least that’s the side Box Boy was familiar with.

Tate was lost in thought. As Box Boy waited for him to say anything else, a familiar speak of the devil figure approached them. Green light illuminated the cut-out features of Ichabod’s face and splashed the nearby wall. Then Ichabod shoved Tate aside and marched up to Box Boy, wearing that frustrated, slice to the soul stare he saw every time he came over to see Kat.

“You,” he hissed, pointing at him. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

Ichabod paused for a moment, staring at the glorb unceremoniously propped between Box Boy’s elbow and side.

“Hand it over, Bernard…” He flexed his fingers. Box Boy’s given name took on a venomous quality when Ichabod said it.

Reluctant, Box Boy handed it over and dipped his head, heartbeat thundering in his ears.

At that, Ichabod gestured brusquely one last time, then turned and started stomping away. Sighing, Box Boy started to follow the furious older man, hoping that Ich hadn’t discovered the spot in the backyard where he met Kat when she was grounded.

“Do you know any time rewind spells?” Tate asked, placing himself between Ich’s retreating form and Box Boy.

“No…”

“Mind wipe?” Tate asked in a lower voice as his irises darted.

“That would be helpful…” Box Boy shook his head. “But no.”

“Tate!” Ichabod stopped and faced the two. “Quit conspiring with him.”

“It’s Laserblast…” Tate muttered angrily.

“I was going to leave you at the front desk with Wanda.” Ichabod crossed his arms. “But since it looks like you’re involved, you’re coming with me too. It’ll make this easier.”

“...what?”

“Your mama called, son.” The flames in Ichabod’s pumpkin head roared. “I guess she knows this little twerp’s mom.” He pointed at Box Boy. “They can sort the two of you out. I’m just giving you a ride, cleaning up my kid’s mess. Then we’re done here.”

He turned and continued stomping towards the front doors, cursing under his breath. While Tate steamed, the gears in Box Boy’s head turned. Something clicked. He stared at Tate’s profile, trying to find any obvious tells. The only things Tate had in common with Darlene were the dark hair and dark eyes. Otherwise, he was friendly, easygoing, ornery. When Darlene tried to be friendly, it was an act. Tate was genuinely likable.

And there was a burst of giddy butterflies at the worst possible time.

“Um….” Tate looked directly at him, a bit nervous. “So, your name’s Bernard?”

“Yeah, I’m not actually Kat,” Box Boy said softly. “I’m Kat’s boyfriend. And I prefer to go by the Fourth Dimensional Marauder. We...swapped bodies.”

“Interesting…” Tate didn’t hide the saucy smirk on his face. “I see why Pumpkinhead’s mad at you, but what does that have to do with my mom?”

“Is your mom...Darlene?” Box Boy dragged his fingers through a few strands of hair. “She’s...involved with my mom.”

“Oh…” Tate’s face scrunched up. “Oh, cob.”

“Yeah…” Box Boy blew a raspberry.

They’d reached Ichabod’s station wagon. He held up a hand and they came to a screeching halt.

“Tate, you’re in the back seat.” He glared at Box Boy. “And you’re sitting up front with me, you little hooligan.”

Both of them silently and awkwardly climbed into the station wagon. As Ichabod turned the key, he switched to his early 40’s human man glamour. The lenses of his glasses flashed. Box Boy looked into the rearview mirror, watching as Tate crossed his legs and watched the passing scenery.

“I have a few questions for you….” Ichabod shot a sidelong glance at Box.

“Mmm.”

“So, was this entire scheme dreamed up just to get a glorb?” Ichabod sighed heavily.

“Not exactly...” Box Boy said as he started to twiddle his fingers.

Ichabod took a moment before groaning loudly.

“Don’t let Kathy sweet talk you into any more experiments,” Ichabod said. “It could be really dangerous.”

“She was trying to reverse it….” Box Boy muttered, staring at the glove box.

“Kathy…” Ichabod was about to say something, but his gaze darted to Tate in the back seat and he stopped. His lips tightened. “It’s a complicated spell. I told her not to try something like that. At least, not without me around.”

“And you expected her to listen?” Tate spoke up. Box Boy saw his ornery smirk in the mirror.

“I wish she would,” Ichabod muttered.

“She’s famous for going behind your back!” Tate snickered. “Grayman and Fox have so many stories about finding tentacles in their desk drawers, desk toys going missing, how the Butterfly has her picture posted to his wall of ‘do not allow’ in restricted areas. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

Part of Box Boy glowed with pride for his significant other. Then he remembered that he had kissed Tate and deflated seconds later.

“Not happening,” Ichabod growled.

“We’re on our way,” Tate said. “I can’t think of a way you can stop me, old man.”

“I’ll send your mama to drag you home by your ear before everything else.” Ichabod raised a brow. “And if you show your rascally self anywhere in my neighborhood, you’re not welcome in my house. It’s bad enough I have to deal with you at work.”

“You’ve seen how effective your shotgun routine is keeping that one away!” Tate hiked a thumb at Box Boy before laughing.

“Quit running your mouth, boy.” Ichabod’s nostrils flared. “Of course you and hooligan here hit it off. Birds of a feather.”

Box Boy blushed furiously, running through so many things he wanted to say. Instead, he was drowning in guilt, wondering how Kat would take the news about the distraction kiss. It was weird circumstances, but he also wanted to, but he wouldn’t have gone for it otherwise.

“I’ll meet her eventually.” Tate plugged his hands in his jacket pockets. “You might as well spill. What’s the big deal, Pumpkinhead?”

Ichabod snarled. He reached up, snapped his fingers, and a zipper dragged across Tate’s face. For a second, Tate was furious and tugged at the end.

There was a smug, satisfied grin on Ichabod’s face. “I’ve wanted to do that since I got saddled with you in the lab.”

“He works with you?” Box Boy asked.

“They’re trying to set him up as my IT assistant,” Ichabod said, eyes narrowing.

“I thought he was an intern?”

“Unfortunately…” Ichabod rolled his eyes. “If I see you with this kid again, consider yourself banned from my house too. You’re on thin ice as it is, but I’ll gladly take you over him.”

“...what did he do?”

“You got a sample.” Ichabod snorted as he drummed the steering wheel.

Tate settled deeper into the seat, eyes glinting victoriously as he crossed his arms.

The rest of the ride back to the neighborhood, Box Boy hid his face in Kat’s hoodie. He’d never met someone so cool. After a long enough time, he’d be okay with Kat dating this guy. He’d understand. Part of Kat resonated with him, a dull, buzzing reassurance the feeling was mutual. Complicated feelings and heartache aside, she’d be okay with him going for Laser too.

****

When Ichabod’s wagon rolled up in front of Box Boy’s house, Mama was out on the front lawn in a folding chair. Kat was parked on the grass next to her, sullen and picking at grass blades.

As soon as Ichabod emerged, Mama scurried up to him with clasped hands as she gnawed on her bottom lip. She was asking him a million different questions, he tried to calm her, Kat looked up and met Box Boy’s gaze. Tate took the opportunity to bail out and made a bee line for Kat. Humming with frayed nerves, Box joined him.

Before either could approach Kat, Darlene intercepted. It was as if she had appeared out of thin air. The next thing he knew, Box was staring at her sleek nails, heard a far too loud snap, and then he was falling. He saw a tree canopy, a slice of blue sky, and the side of Mama’s chair.

Quickly, he shifted and found a bizarre sight. Ichabod and Mama were frozen in place. Just behind them, Darlene held Tate by his arm and Kat by her sleeve. Kat’s eyes flashed as she looked between Box and Darlene, trying to shift between returning to her own body and escaping Darlene.

“Okay….” Darlene slowly released her son and Kat before folding her hands and taking a deep breath.

“How’s your ‘business meeting’ going?” Tate glared at her.

“We’ll talk later.” She batted a dismissive hand at him while he grunted angrily.

“Huh….” Box felt a bit dazed, blinking as he climbed to his feet and gingerly walked over. His legs felt stiff. When he was close enough, Kat rushed over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m not sure what that fool was thinking, teaching you a spell like that.” Darlene shot a disgusted look at Ichabod. “He probably sees it as just a body transfer. He’s probably used it plenty of times for gathering intel or innocent enough reasons, but that one’s closer to a full-on possession than a temporary body transfer.”

Darlene’s assessment hit like a splash of ice water. Dread settled in Box Boy’s stomach. When he turned to look at Kat, her eyes were saucers and she started ripping at her nails. Box left her alone, since part of him wanted to start yanking at his cyborg parts, just to reassure himself that everything was firmly in place.

“You’re very lucky I was here.” Darlene’s lip curled.

Box Boy caught the surly grimace on Tate’s face, followed by an eye roll.

“Now….” Darlene folded her arms behind her back in a very stiff, business like fashion. “I don’t know what childish heist the two of you were getting into, but leave my son out of your antics.” She narrowed her lids. “He’s a promising young hero. He doesn’t need riffraff dragging him down.”

Box Boy felt the hum of his cyborg parts in a way he usually didn’t. Kat’s fingers dug into his shoulder and he could feel her fingers trembling.

“That’s…” Tate’s voice was surprisingly small. “That’s not your call.”

“Tate, are you wearing make-up?” Darlene walked up to him, tutting. “We’ll make sure you’re cleaned up before Calvin sees.”

Box Boy wanted to do something, anything, but he felt frozen in place. It was either fear or an invisible wall. He couldn’t figure out which one. As Tate shriveled up like a dying flower, Darlene turned on her heel and approached Box and Kat.

It was so easy to forget her smaller size and stature. Her magic gave her the overwhelming presence and crushing gravity of a giant. As she leaned towards them, Box Boy felt claustrophobic, like walls were closing in around him. She was an apex predator, with slitted irises like a snake or a cat or something even bigger or otherworldly.

“I really like Charlene. I really, truly do but I’m not interested in cleaning up after her poorly behaved children,” Darlene said with a heavy sigh. “So, wish granted, Bernard. You’ll never see me again.”

Then she turned towards Kat with a schoolteacher’s intense disapproval. “Give up on learning magic, darling. You’re terrible at it. If you keep trying, you might destroy the entire universe with your ineptitude. Your father should really put practicality over coddling your little ego.”

She made one more angry teacher noise before slowly bringing her hand inches away from Box Boy’s and Kat’s faces and snapping one last time.

****

Kat was sprawled out on her bed, staring up at her Serpentia poster. She tugged at the ends of her hair, debating whether she wanted to go for bright red or a deep purple. While she liked how Serpentia looked, it was in a “I find him attractive” way, not the “I want to look like him” way she felt about Lu’torr.

There was a soft plunk at her window. Giddy, Kat crept across the room, wriggled out of the window, and met Box moments later at the base of the tree in her backyard. They scurried behind Mauve’s pitiful attempts at growing rose bushes. Box Boy was glowing as he clutched his satchel and quickly scrambled for a flashlight.

Kat noticed he was wearing his new labcoat. There were already a few scratches and dirt stains, but a thorough run through a washer should fix that.

“Hey pookie,” Box Boy said with shining eyes.

“Box….” Kat groaned.

“I have something for you.” He giggled. “And I have some big news.”

“You...might want to wait until I’m not grounded.” Kat was giggling too.

“No! You’ll just have to hide it until Ichabod cools off.” Box Boy booped her nose. Then he dug around in his bag, pulled out a letterman jacket, and handed it to Kat.

As she unfolded the jacket, she noticed it was really nice, high quality fabric. It was a red and black motif, embroidered skulls along the sleeves, and a skull with flaming eye sockets on the back. Curiously, it was a bit too big for either of them.

“I found this in my closet. Can you believe it?” Box Boy said. “It reminded me of you. And...I think it fits you more than it does me. It’s a bit...much for the aesthetic I’m going for.”

“It’s…” Kat ran a finger over one of the skulls. “It’s perfect for a villain, though.”

“Mm-hmmm.” Box Boy grinned.

“Well...thank you.” Kat clutched it to her chest. Yeah, she’d dye her hair red. Billiam didn’t own the color and neither did Laserblast. If she ever encountered Laser as a villain, he’d just have to reconcile with an evildoer wearing his trademark color scheme. And rocking those colors better than he ever dreamed he could.

“I can’t wait to see you wearing that!” Box Boy squealed. “So...the big news?” He clenched his fists. “From now on, I’m the villain...Lad Boxman!”

“Lad Boxman?” Kat scratched her nose. “Why not just Boxman?”

“I’ll grow into it!” Boxman replied, clapping his hands. “That’s the beauty of it! A title that grows along with me.”

“It’s perfect.” Kat squeezed the fabric of her new jacket. Hopefully, she’d grow to fit in it comfortably. If she ended up with the bowling ball muscles she wanted, it might end up too small.

Only time would tell.

YEARS LATER

Scrooge pressed the Boxmore doorbell a bit harder than they really needed to. They looked at the old letterman jacket in their left hand, ran a finger over the material and a few fraying threads.

Boxman’s personal theme song jangled a few more times before Darrell cheerfully leaned out. Of course Fink was dangling off of his shoulders, paws digging into his mechanical shoulders. A tan cowboy hat almost fell off of his head. “Hey Screwball!” she crowed with a toothy grin.

“Hey dorks.” Scrooge gave both kids a halfhearted smile. “Is PV home?”

“He took Daddy out for a romantic picnic!” Darrell replied.

“Ah…” Scrooge clicked their tongue. “I found Boxy’s old letterman jacket and just found a little tag in the sleeve with PV’s old name on it. I wanted to pick his brain on if he knew Boxy back then.”

“Nope!” Fink shook her head. “He met Boxman a few years ago. I remember him complaining about him.” Fink snickered.

Scrooge shrugged and offered Darrell the jacket. “Well...it’s somebody’s old family relic. I don’t think I’ll have any nieces or nephews any time soon, so you guys should get it...”

As they spoke, they blushed slightly while Darrell beamed and started studying the jacket. Fink rolled her eyes.

“Wanna play cowboys?” Darrell asked. “Our daddies will be back home later and you can hang out with us until then!”

“Okay…” Scrooge tugged at their sleeve shyly.