Bodyswap: For Mitchell and Annie!George -- June 25

[stolenhumanity]

The scream could have been heard across the island, had it not been enveloped in similar screams.

However, Roger hadn't expected anything. The feeling of the cool morning air brushing a bare leg, that was normal, since Roger had a firm stance on pants and how very little he liked wearing them, especially to bed. The blanket felt... different, but maybe Anatoly was just moving shit in. But he rolled over and didn't feel Anatoly. He didn't feel anything, really. Except... fluff. Yes, there was a definite fluffiness to the bed that he was unaccustomed to, but it wasn't at all unpleasant. In fact, he smiled. Tea. Yes. He decided that when he opened his eyes, he would fix some tea and sit down and await his roommates' rousing to discuss the day with them. How nice!

How fucking weird.

Roger loved his roommates, whole fucking truckloads, but Mark was the tea fiend and Mark was gone and Dean would literally toss any tea out of the hut if he saw it. Angua might like it, but Roger wasn't picturing Dean and Angua, not really. He was but he felt no warmth from them. No, he felt a certain amount of... uncertainty toward the both of them--the simple idea of them. And with all of the hex bags and guns around, there was bound to be some kind of accident...

"What the fuck?" Roger groaned, and his eyes shot open. That wasn't his voice. That wasn't even a groan. It sounded tortured, sure, but it was so... high and British. No. No, there was no way this was happening, again. He looked down to assure himself that it was just his half-asleep mind playing tricks on him.

It wasn't. A bright yellow, far oversized tee shirt informed him that Frankie Says Relax, but he didn't, and he (for the moment) didn't give a flying fuck what Frankie wanted him to do, because he was a small, pantsless, black, English woman.

That was when the scream came, and Roger fell out of bed, a tangle of shaved, tanned legs and folds of shirt. He did some terrified leaps as if the ground was made of spiders and found himself in the larger common area of what appeared to be a moderately sized hut. And he screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

Comments

[chasinghumanity]

Even on the island, Mitchell slept like the dead. Nowhere near as literally, but it did take a lot to wake him at times. Annie screaming sure as hell did the trick though, and he went from prone to racing across the hut in 5 seconds flat. After all they'd gone through, after all they'd lost, Mitchell had to take a scream like that seriously, even if it only ended up being a fucking spider.

Pushing open the door, he skidded into the room on bare feet, shirtless, his boxers the only thing covering him, and stared with wide eyes at Annie. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he demanded, kneeling down beside her.

[not_acute]

The screams had frozen Annie midway through her own set of panic. It was one thing to wake up because someone else was screaming it was quite another to wake up because that someone else happened to sound an awful lot like you. Sitting upright in the bed, she spent a good chunk of time staring at her hands trying to realise what was wrong with them before she had put the spectacles on.

Now she knew exactly what was wrong with them. They were George's. Somehow she had wound up as George and the loss of the fundamental order that she was herself and no one else was sending her into something of a tailspin. Fighting against the urge to put her face back down into the pillow and have a little cry, she got up and walked a bit stiffly into the living room.

Only to see herself there, screaming and panicking which only made her, George's body or not, start to scream as well.

[stolenhumanity]

Something about the sudden appearance of this startlingly handsome and incredibly mostly-naked man got Roger to stop screaming. He did notice, though, that without his permission, the body he was inhabiting took hold of some (awesome) biceps and cried right into the stranger's face.

Before Roger could explain, another figure came bolting out, screaming, and Roger jumped back, bare legs attempting to crawl into one-another as he backed himself into a corner.

[chasinghumanity]

Great. Fantastic. Two seconds of screaming directed in his face with no answer followed by George's wailing. He shot a glare at George, trying to shush him with a series of arm movements, but whatever little anger he felt faded away to plain befuddlement. What the ever-loving fuck did George have to scream about? What did Annie have to scream about besides? Did they see something he didn't?

"What?!" he shouted. "What's going on? What the hell are you two on about?"

[not_acute]

Why didn't they have proper sofa? It would have been very nice to have something to sit on, rather than pacing back and forth like she was. Wringing her hands slightly, she rubbed George's eyes before pausing just long enough to point at her body. It was also just long enough to register that no one seemed to be wearing very many clothes, which wasn't fit for anything. What if they had an unexpected guest pop by?

They didn't need these neighbours to start talking about them either. Really.

"Who are you?" she asked, the question coming out shriller than she had intended it.

[stolenhumanity]

It was on the tip of Roger's (or this chick's) tongue to ask what the fuck was wrong with the newcomer's ears that made them so large, but even the thought of saying it made the body crawl with what could only be described as ickyness. It was like he didn't want to be rude, but that surely couldn't have been it.

"I don't know! I don't know any of you!" Roger said, the anger and frustration and confusion building inside of him to an infuriating boil. He just wanted to... wanted to...

"BLOODY HELL, AM I CRYING???"

[chasinghumanity]

"Don't know-- What?" The screaming hadn't panicked him, not really. He was used to screams in one form or another. The general confusion had been, well, confusing, but not enough to make Mitchell lose his footing. George and Annie staring at each other like they were strangers however was a bit too much for Mitchell to handle with any sort of calm.

"What the fuck are you talking 'bout?" he spat at Annie, suddenly angry, viciously angry at whatever the hell was going on. "It's me! It's fucking Mitchell and George! And that's Annie!" he shouted at George. "You're fucking friends so stop your goddamn screaming!"

[not_acute]

Immediately feeling a bit put out, Annie frowned. That was something that George's body seemed to do quite well, especially given how stressful this was. Balling her hands into fists, she pressed them together in front her mouth as she went silent for a moment thinking of the best way to word her explanation.

Shouting might do the trick, but it wasn't careful enough to suit her and she only wanted to say it once. "Mitchell, that -- " She paused and pointed to her body, which was sobbing in a mildly unattractive way. Did she always look like that? "Is not Annie. I am not George. I don't know what is going on, but I'm Annie," she pointed to herself and then back at her body. "Not her."

[stolenhumanity]

Annie. That felt right. In fact, the body responded to it, and Roger suddenly felt wrong all over. Violated, even. He shuddered, crossed the body's arms over the body's chest and had the good sense to look rather put-out himself.

"I am not a 'her!'" Roger protested, looking extremely affronted. He rolled his eyes. "Roger, alright? My name is RogerbloodyDavis!" Ugh, it sounded vaguely like Bridget and that made him want to puke into the sink or find a sink to puke into. "It's an island-- oh bugger all, just... sit down and I'll make us some tea and try and explain, yeah?" The face screwed up under Roger's command, but even with the formal protest from Roger, tea sounded good. Amazing, even, and he felt the need to make enough for everyone. And damned if the hut couldn't use a little tidying...

[chasinghumanity]

Mitchell's brain ceased to function, rejecting the information given to it. George was Annie and Annie was some fuck named Roger. No, nuh uh, wrong, incorrect. He knew the island messed with people, but he knew this in the same way he knew that Saturn had rings and kangaroos roamed the outback. This was information given to him that he just accepted, not that he had seen with his own two eyes.

And now evidence of the island's level of fucked up influence was staring him in the face. And telling him to take some tea.

Jaw clenched tight, Mitchell spun on his heel, starting towards the door as he shoved his fingers through his hair. He spun again, coming back to his very same spot, and wagged a finger at the person who wasn't Annie. "I hate tea," he muttered and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation.

[not_acute]

Annie didn't know what Mitchell had to be upset about. He still had the advantage of still being him and not someone else entirely. It might be a bit confusing after a while to explain who was who in who, but she'd been told about quite a lot of strange things that had happened.

This seemed rather less frightening than dinosaurs or an earthquake. Still pacing, she kept fixating on how the sparse area was nice and everything but could really use with a bit more furniture. A couple of lumpy chairs, a sofa and they would be set.

Still frowning she looked at Mitchell and then Roger and then back at Mitchell. "Why are you upset? You didn't wake up as someone else. I do believe that he and I have the right to be upset at this predicament." Yes, that was the right word it. Not quite a tragedy or horrific turn of events and hopefully not permanent.

[crossyourpath.livejournal.com]

George was not himself. He was not himself at all.

He'd woken up in a hut not his own, in clothes not his own. And after several moments of thinking he was dreaming and searching the strange hut for his glasses, George had realized why he felt off-balance. He was a woman. Somehow, he'd turned into a woman. Of course, George had been on the island long enough to know that it played tricks on everyone, and he'd been subject to them a few times himself, but at least when he was professing his love to Rahne he hadn't been a woman.

After a few moments of what could only be considered hyperventilating, George had found some clothes to cover himself up-- dear God, why was there so much leather???-- and headed down to his proper hut as fast as he could.

"Mitchell. Something's happened." George said, eyes wide as he stopped in the doorway, ignoring whatever other conversations might have been going on at that particular moment. Somehow, he doubted that they were even remotely as important as this.

And then he noticed his body standing there as well. At least what should have been his body. He held out one arm and pointed.

"You! What have you done?!"

[stolenhumanity]

As another body appeared in the hut, Roger screamed-- a quick, shrill noise. the man named Mitchell was pointing the proverbial finger at Roger, and the guy that Roger recognized from Dean's prank was being assaulted by some leather-clad hottie, who Roger assumed was the owner of the big-eared, possibly gay body.

"Oi! Don't point your finger at her, you fucking cockjob!" Roger called to the newcomer, hands finding hips in a sassy, no-bullshit stance; Annie's body teaming up with Roger's verbiage, and obviously the body he was trapped in was very protective of... itself.

[chasinghumanity]

"My best friends are being fucked with an' I'm not allowed to be angry?" Mitchell shot back at George. No.. Annie. Annie in George, dear God that wasn't a phrase he wanted to repeat ever, let alone have in his head.

Thankfully, conversation managed to be derailed by the entrance of a beautiful blond woman calling his name. Quickly this day was becoming less of a traumatic experience and more the most annoying absurdist drama Mitchell had ever suffered through.

Eyes squeezed shut, he held up both his arms and shouted, "Next person who screams gets gagged, so help me! And accusations get a broken finger! Clearly no one here wanted to do anything to anybody so let's just figure this out with no blame!"

[not_acute]

"There's no need to get snippy," she said with a sulky shrug of her shoulders, frowning a bit.

There was quite a bit that she was feeling, about quite a lot of things that didn't make sense. A little upset some strange blonde who while very pretty looked like something of a tart was pointing at her and that Mitchell seemed very put out by the whole thing.

On the other hand she was more than a bit pleased that Roger had gotten a bit defensive. She had always liked him even if she didn't really know him and was happy that even the whole body thing hadn't ruined that. Waving her hands about in a way that seemed quite natural to George, she half started to point at the blonde woman before forcing her hands down to her sides.

"I'm not George!" It came out a bit more like a screech than she had intended, so she paused to tone it down. "I'm Annie and that looking quite a bit like me, is Roger. Are you..." No that would just be too weird. "You're not George are you?"

[crossyourpath.livejournal.com]

"Of course I'm George," George whined, "Who else would I be?"

Well, he'd be whoever's body he was in, obviously, but it seemed that everyone there had already had already figured out that something wasn't quite right about the day.

And then his brain finally caught up with what he'd heard come out of his own mouth. The one attached to the body he should have been in, at least.

"...what do you mean you're Annie?"

[stolenhumanity]

"You'd be the blond chick who likes leather that you're wearing," Roger said impatiently, and sort of... giggled. It was a little hard to be too rude (besides the cockjob thing, but some things transcended strange body transplants), but it was getting easier with Mitchell being a really hot douche.

"That's Annie in what I'm getting is your body and I'm Roger." Hands found curvy hips once again. "Look, this happens. Sometimes on the island we can wake up as someone else. And this is a right side better than the pregnant chick that hated me or the gimpy doctor that hates everything." He laughed again, enjoying the sound.

"Now. Who wants tea, then?"

[chasinghumanity]

Mitchell glared at Annie's body for a long minute, like he could reach out and hit whoever was in there with his mind. But unfortunately he seemed to have the most facts about what was happening here, even if it was information that Mitchell wasn't liking.

"So what do we do?" he pressed, ignoring the question of tea. "Can we fix this?"

[not_acute]

"There must be something. We didn't go to bed last night hoping that we would wake up as other people."

At the very least Annie hadn't and no offense to George but if she was going to wake up as anyone else it was going to be Angelina Jolie. Maybe Anne-Marie Duff, but whomever it was going to be it was not going to be the one she was stuck in now.

Folding her arms against her chest, she made a slight face at how it just felt wrong but carried on doing it anyways. "I hope it's not forever."