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Wherein Falcon doesn't want anybody else.
Falcon was, by nature, not a bad morning person, but he wasn’t a good one either.
He hadn’t slept well at all the night before. He wasn’t sick, no, he’d gotten over that stupid cold a few days ago. Just a general discomfort--tossing and turning and periodic jolting awake. Towards the morning he had managed to drift off successfully but the respite was short-lived as the sound of his alarm jarred him from unconsciousness.
Despite this, the bed remained still as the clock continued to blare obnoxiously. It was a few moments before there was any movement from the mass of sheets at all, but soon enough the Captain emerged, reluctantly swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up to yawn and stretch.
He made to take a step towards the bathroom but for some reason found his boxer shorts caught around his ankles. Foot stuck in the tangled fabric, he crashed to the floor. In a bleary attempt to stop his fall, he flung his arms outward but only managed to slam into the bedside table and send a lamp, a half-empty glass of water and several racing magazines down with him. The alarm clock landed on his head and silenced itself with a rather painful-sounding THUNK.
It was an unexpected position to find oneself in at about 6 in the morning, and the explosion of stars behind his eyes was certainly unwelcome, especially when he had just woken up and was barely coherent.
Had he been an iota more coherent as he righted himself, he probably would have noticed that his groan sounded a bit less baritone than usual and that his boxers were a little large and he had to hold them up with one hand during his shuffle to the bathroom.
The elastic was probably shot.
Probably.
It was another several moments before he was awake enough to step up to the mirror and check for inevitable bruising.
Jesus CHRIST that was not what I wanted to wake up to I swear to God if I didn’t have a job I would just crawl back in bed right now and hello that is a rather butch-looking and very naked chick in my mirror.
Falcon straightened up and stared carefully at the reflection, squinting a little and cocking his head to the side. Naked butch chick followed suit.
Okay, he’d admit that was a little weird. Maybe that alarm clock hit him harder than he thought. Still glaring skeptical daggers at the mirror, he raised his hand to rub the spot on the back of his head where he’d been smacked. And predictably, the reflection did so as well.
He started to recall a frantic codec from Otacon the night before, one that he’d brushed off without a thought.
Slowly, very slowly, and without breaking his staring contest with the naked butch chick, he reached up with a hand and touched his chest, finding exactly what he expected.
They were kind of squishy.
Falcon growled to no one in particular, startling himself with a distinctly feminine voice.
Surprisingly, his first instinct was not to panic. Instead, he took a moment to examine himself. He’d…definitely lost some height…and a lot of muscle mass…and his hair brushed his shoulders and fell in his face. Still, he refused to believe this was anything but a booze-and-painkillers induced trip and his gaze wandered down to the hand that was currently holding up his undergarment. He took his other hand and shoved it down his boxers.
Yeah. There was definitely something missing.
He, or rather, she, because that was unquestionably what she was (the hand jammed down his pants was a testament to that) turned on her heel away from the mirror and staggered back into the bedroom, lifting a hand to her ear to tap her codec. “Otacooooooooon.”
There wasn’t an answer right away so she busied herself with thoughts of what on earth was going on and what could possibly have caused this. She’d had strange things happen to her before—spent a week as a ten-year-old, switched bodies with a midget alien—but she had to admit, this took the metaphorical cake.
Not even bothering to put on clothes, and nearly tripping over her shorts again, she crawled over the bed to her laptop, flipping it open to see if the school network would provide any insight.
And lo and behold, it appeared as though most of the school had swapped genders overnight. So it was a prank. Possibly the greatest prank she’d ever seen or experienced. She had to admit, she’d surprised herself by not panicking or worrying about whether or not it was permanent but any sort of transformative anything at this school only seemed to last a week tops so…panic could probably come later.
Otacon wasn’t answering, so reluctantly, she realized that she’d probably have to head into the school to track him down. For it to affect this many people, the agent would have needed to be widely accessible. It had to be the food. Either that or a very very powerful magic-user but the former seemed more likely, especially when Falcon remembered that she’d missed breakfast the previous day and had snagged a few muffins from the cafeteria.
So she was going to school. And it took her the adventure of relieving oneself sitting down, an entire shower and several long minutes of naked examination in front of the mirror to realize that nothing she owned was going to fit her.
ACE bandages from his first-aid box proved to function well as a makeshift bra, even if it was several attempts before she managed to strap herself down properly. After that, it was on with clothes that far too large and fit all wrong. What followed was a succession of mumbled profanities as she gathered what safety pins she could find and tried her best to at least make a pair of boxers stay up. Pants were easier, except for the part where she was forced to punch a new hole in one of her belts. She made a mental note to go shopping.
She stalled as long as she possibly could, taking her sweet time with coffee and hoping that being a little more awake would snap her out of this. It didn’t. Codecs to Samus and Snake proved unsuccessful as well.
Left with little choice than to make the commute to Sumabura, Falcon dumped out the coffee she wasn’t going to drink and trudged her way to the car. She could get in touch with Otacon and figure things out when she got there.
Never a dull moment.
-------
I think I'm going to stay in my office today.
If anyone should need me, I'd advise that you knock first.
((OOC: This journal will function both as a regular entry i.e. you can comment as you always do, and as an OFFICE LOG (paragraph format plz, just so I can differentiate. A date/time in the subject line would also be fab, but it's not necessary.)! If your character feels the need to bother Falcon, whether to laugh at him or ask for sage advice, his door is open! Okay, no it's not. Knock first.))
He hadn’t slept well at all the night before. He wasn’t sick, no, he’d gotten over that stupid cold a few days ago. Just a general discomfort--tossing and turning and periodic jolting awake. Towards the morning he had managed to drift off successfully but the respite was short-lived as the sound of his alarm jarred him from unconsciousness.
Despite this, the bed remained still as the clock continued to blare obnoxiously. It was a few moments before there was any movement from the mass of sheets at all, but soon enough the Captain emerged, reluctantly swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up to yawn and stretch.
He made to take a step towards the bathroom but for some reason found his boxer shorts caught around his ankles. Foot stuck in the tangled fabric, he crashed to the floor. In a bleary attempt to stop his fall, he flung his arms outward but only managed to slam into the bedside table and send a lamp, a half-empty glass of water and several racing magazines down with him. The alarm clock landed on his head and silenced itself with a rather painful-sounding THUNK.
It was an unexpected position to find oneself in at about 6 in the morning, and the explosion of stars behind his eyes was certainly unwelcome, especially when he had just woken up and was barely coherent.
Had he been an iota more coherent as he righted himself, he probably would have noticed that his groan sounded a bit less baritone than usual and that his boxers were a little large and he had to hold them up with one hand during his shuffle to the bathroom.
The elastic was probably shot.
Probably.
It was another several moments before he was awake enough to step up to the mirror and check for inevitable bruising.
Jesus CHRIST that was not what I wanted to wake up to I swear to God if I didn’t have a job I would just crawl back in bed right now and hello that is a rather butch-looking and very naked chick in my mirror.
Falcon straightened up and stared carefully at the reflection, squinting a little and cocking his head to the side. Naked butch chick followed suit.
Okay, he’d admit that was a little weird. Maybe that alarm clock hit him harder than he thought. Still glaring skeptical daggers at the mirror, he raised his hand to rub the spot on the back of his head where he’d been smacked. And predictably, the reflection did so as well.
He started to recall a frantic codec from Otacon the night before, one that he’d brushed off without a thought.
Slowly, very slowly, and without breaking his staring contest with the naked butch chick, he reached up with a hand and touched his chest, finding exactly what he expected.
They were kind of squishy.
Falcon growled to no one in particular, startling himself with a distinctly feminine voice.
Surprisingly, his first instinct was not to panic. Instead, he took a moment to examine himself. He’d…definitely lost some height…and a lot of muscle mass…and his hair brushed his shoulders and fell in his face. Still, he refused to believe this was anything but a booze-and-painkillers induced trip and his gaze wandered down to the hand that was currently holding up his undergarment. He took his other hand and shoved it down his boxers.
Yeah. There was definitely something missing.
He, or rather, she, because that was unquestionably what she was (the hand jammed down his pants was a testament to that) turned on her heel away from the mirror and staggered back into the bedroom, lifting a hand to her ear to tap her codec. “Otacooooooooon.”
There wasn’t an answer right away so she busied herself with thoughts of what on earth was going on and what could possibly have caused this. She’d had strange things happen to her before—spent a week as a ten-year-old, switched bodies with a midget alien—but she had to admit, this took the metaphorical cake.
Not even bothering to put on clothes, and nearly tripping over her shorts again, she crawled over the bed to her laptop, flipping it open to see if the school network would provide any insight.
And lo and behold, it appeared as though most of the school had swapped genders overnight. So it was a prank. Possibly the greatest prank she’d ever seen or experienced. She had to admit, she’d surprised herself by not panicking or worrying about whether or not it was permanent but any sort of transformative anything at this school only seemed to last a week tops so…panic could probably come later.
Otacon wasn’t answering, so reluctantly, she realized that she’d probably have to head into the school to track him down. For it to affect this many people, the agent would have needed to be widely accessible. It had to be the food. Either that or a very very powerful magic-user but the former seemed more likely, especially when Falcon remembered that she’d missed breakfast the previous day and had snagged a few muffins from the cafeteria.
So she was going to school. And it took her the adventure of relieving oneself sitting down, an entire shower and several long minutes of naked examination in front of the mirror to realize that nothing she owned was going to fit her.
ACE bandages from his first-aid box proved to function well as a makeshift bra, even if it was several attempts before she managed to strap herself down properly. After that, it was on with clothes that far too large and fit all wrong. What followed was a succession of mumbled profanities as she gathered what safety pins she could find and tried her best to at least make a pair of boxers stay up. Pants were easier, except for the part where she was forced to punch a new hole in one of her belts. She made a mental note to go shopping.
She stalled as long as she possibly could, taking her sweet time with coffee and hoping that being a little more awake would snap her out of this. It didn’t. Codecs to Samus and Snake proved unsuccessful as well.
Left with little choice than to make the commute to Sumabura, Falcon dumped out the coffee she wasn’t going to drink and trudged her way to the car. She could get in touch with Otacon and figure things out when she got there.
Never a dull moment.
-------
I think I'm going to stay in my office today.
If anyone should need me, I'd advise that you knock first.
((OOC: This journal will function both as a regular entry i.e. you can comment as you always do, and as an OFFICE LOG (paragraph format plz, just so I can differentiate. A date/time in the subject line would also be fab, but it's not necessary.)! If your character feels the need to bother Falcon, whether to laugh at him or ask for sage advice, his door is open! Okay, no it's not. Knock first.))
no subject
no subject
Falcon looked at the student for a few moments, rather puzzled.
"You don't...uh...have a thing that kinda...uh...hangs down between your legs? In the front?"
no subject
Was that why everyone was talking about having tails in front? Being a boy or girl changed where your tail was? Ulty couldn't really imagine having his large tail in the front. How would he fit it in his pants?
no subject
Ulty was created in a lab, wasn't he? From what she'd learned from Jeff and Lucas, chimeras were basically a gigantic science project from hell. And for all she knew, the Ultimate Chimera was made to kill, not to breed. So the more she thought about it, the more it seemed very likely that Ulty was built without any sort of reproductive organs.
Which only made everything all the more awkward for the both of them.
"Well...uh..." She began slowly. "What...er...do you have there?"
no subject
"ULTY STILL CONFUSED. ULTY NEED TO HAVE A TAIL IN FRONT? HOW IT MAKE BOYS OR GIRLS TO HAVE SOMETHING IN FRONT?" This whole trip seemed to be less instructive and more confusing then Ulty had hoped, and it was getting him a little frustrated.
no subject
Yeah, she could give "the talk" if she really had to, she'd done it several times for different students. But she had no idea how to go about educating someone who was virtually genderless.
"Uhhh...let's see. Ordinarily...yes, boys have that and girls don't. But...no, you don't need to have anything in front. I think...you're a special case."
no subject
...Come to think of it, he had no idea what it even was. Falcon had done a remarkable job of answering his questions while not really giving him any information.
"BUT...BUT WHAT IS IT AND WHAT IT FOR? ULTY STILL NOT KNOW."
no subject
"Well...it's...for something called intercourse. Which is not something you talk about in polite company." Best to cover her bases now before Ulty proclaimed things to the school.
"When a boy and a girl are grown up and ready and love each other a lot...and want to be together and have children...they have...intercourse. That's what the special parts are for. But...it's not everything there is to loving somebody, okay?"
no subject
Wait...It was for babies? Didn't you make babies in a labratory? That was where all the chimeras came from: test tubes. And how were you supposed to use those parts for whatever intercourse was.
"...ULTY STILL CONFUSED."
no subject
"Well...moms and dads can have...children of their own. After they have...intercourse, the mom can...get pregnant. Have a baby."
She was kicking herself for how awful this sounded. "That's how humans work, anyway."
no subject
no subject
The fact that Lucas had once told her about a chimera lab solidified the fact that she should have seen this coming.
"I know it's...really confusing. I'm sorry I couldn't do a very good job of explaining it."