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A game whre your OC reacts to suddenly having the above OC's body. Example
Chara A: *is a butterfly*
Chara B: *is originally a human, but now has Chara A's body* "Neat, I have wings! I'm going to fly away now!
Chara C: *is a wizard, but now has Chara B's original body* "What is this odd creature? And why can't they do magic??"
I will start off by sacrificing my son Leon.
Rule 1: I'm starting to see the same people replying back and forth, so please wait at least two posts after your own to post again. Have fun, everybody!
Rule 2: Each post has to be at least 3 completely filled lines of text, or the equivalent of that!
Rule 3: Don't be rude about the appearance of the previous character, even if your character is the vain sort.
Rule 4: This is a public thread, so keep it PG-13. Please keep sex/excessive violence/etc. down to a minimum. Rule of thumb, if the previous character does not have any mentions of that in their bio, don't inflict it upon them. If you must include that content, censor it like so.
You can reply regardless of rule 1 if it has been 24 hours since the last post.
The size difference wasn't as much of a shock as it'd be for most Cybertronians. He was smaller than most already, going from small Transformer to tall human (as far as he could tell) was a jump, sure, but not one which he disliked. And the feeling of fabric against skin was unusual, sure, but nice. He'd keep in mind his preference for heavy fabrics, the cape had wrapped around him as he fell asleep like a blanket in a comfortable way.
No, it was a feeling of something missing that hit him. Like eyes on his back finally averting their gaze.
Oh, and also the fact he was on Earth. Leaning on a tree. Was he sleeping standing up? No matter, it just meant he didn't need to stand up before he started running, clumsily on shorter legs than he was used to, before looking around and realizing the shade beneath that tree was the most comfortable position for him right now. Better than sneaking onto a Decepticon ship like last time, by any means.
He sat down, getting his bearings. But the absence kept nagging at him, like a child running their tongue over the place a tooth once was.
Unicron? Unicron, I know I'm a human now or... I'm something not Cybertronian, I know that much. I believe I'm human, haven't seen many? I don't feel you there anymore... Are you shunning me for this? Nothing, void. Not the sort of void that wrapped around you like a reply itself. A void like air, like static signals. Are you unable to speak to me now, or do you just not want to?
As the nothingness continued, Wayfinder's thoughts switched from conversational to monologue. These thoughts were for himself alone.
If he was angry, he would've made it clear. Whatever just happened, it broke the link.
Wayfinder was in this alone. He pulled up a sleeve to examine an arm. For a part to squish and then form back into shape, like what happened giving his arm a cautious poke, it felt unusual for one made of solid metal. Such elasticity was usually limited to the face for Transformers. Living metal was mostly firm and hard.
He did it a few more times, letting it distract him from everything else. Poke, poke, squish. Not enough to harm or even hurt, just enough that he knew it'd be really annoying if he did that to anyone else.
This was fine. Everything was fine.
As long as he kept staring at mystery-person's arm, anyways. He did not wake up today prepped and ready to handle a trip to Earth...
ooc: i wonder if it's the body or the mind-consciousness-deal which carries carmen's telepathy ability. because i'd find it pretty funny if unicron heard all of that and just Physically Could Not Reply lol
@np you're on wayfinder's personal spaceship, the voidcoaster! (y'know, the one he DIDN'T crash.) he probably just nodded off in a storage room somewhere honestly.
if you don't wanna do a fandom oc or wayfinder just doesn't speak to you, my other ocs are also fine
The experience of his own body is unique, to the point that Sinevis is immediately aware of the fact that he is not in his own body when he properly wakes. His senses are very much askew — his awareness and senses dulled and filtered, and the archivist is quick to instinctively bristle in annoyance at this loss, focusing on that rather than the situation at hand for the meantime.
Only to find himself unable to, if mostly because of the more solid nature of this body, severely lacking in the flexibility he finds familiar. What a rather vexing experience, he can't help but think, now properly reorienting his other senses, reaching out by instinct for a moment - but he halts, at least for now. He does not know this body yet, and altering it is not only risky, but inappropriate.
With that in mind, Sinevis slowly sits, examining the vessel he has ended in, and there is a quick recognition in his being, having studied and interacted with these beings before — living entities of metal. Cybertronian, he recalls, extending his arms and flexing his fingers in thought. How interesting, to end up in the body of one, although it does make it convenient that he is in a body that is easy to recall.
He turns to his surroundings next, finished with his inspection. A storage room of some kind, no doubt belonging to a spaceship. Once again, the instinct to reach presents itself, but Sinevis crushes that between his metaphorical fingers, instead continuing to look around the area for any signs of other passengers, as well as any identifying aspects to the location.
"Hm," he says, primarily to test this body's speaking capabilities, marvelling at how it produces sound in lieu of traditional vocal cords, "interesting."
Regardless, this is a bit of an uncontrolled situation. The archivist shifts for a moment, and he stands. If he is going to be here for the meantime, he supposes that he might as well see what this place will behold for him. It might be worth a short story for his Archive, after all.
NP: You're likely waking up in Sinevis' own Archives, in an area a bit like a small office. Some form of disorientation is incredibly likely, as Sinevis has a pervasive awareness of things, including higher dimensions, as well as a view of space-time from an outsider's perspective. How exactly this awareness works is up to you, because it's very likely that the OC's mind will attempt to filter this experience.
Shocking themself out of sleep, they jolted awake from a nightmare. In their nightmare, they had swapped bodies with someone.. it was a very unsettling experience, to say in the least. They may have woken up in some strange office, but... they sleepwalked sometimes. This happened. They'd find someone to help them back down to the remains of the Deepsea Metro. They sighed, relieved it was just a horrible dream and they were still in their body.
Wait.
They sighed. And it didn't sound watery or bubbly. It sounded clear.
That.. wasn't right. Maybe they had finally stopped leaking out their mouth...? Or maybe they had miraculously gotten their vocal cords back and stopped leaking! They were hoping and praying to Squid Jesus that it was that.
Slowly, they brought a shaky hand up to their face and pressed it against their mouth. It was dry. They did the same thing to their right eye. It was dry. They slowly brought the hand back until it was in front of their face.
It wasn't their skin tone.
They shrieked. A very high-pitched, feminine sound of both fear and surprise. What happened? Why weren't they green anymore? Everything was spinning. Nothing was right. They felt so... aware, of everything. Everything ever. Of you, of me, of them... it made their head hurt. Plus, now they had vocal cords. They could speak. They weren't leaking. They weren't green. They felt taller. And they felt—not one, not two, not even three, but six new limbs on their back, which were presumably 3 sets of wings. They were too scared to look.
What was odd to them was that they could still feel their tentacles. They could still move them, as if they were still there, still on their head. But.. they felt more. Way more. They only had 4 tentacles.. except for in their swim form, where they had 8. But they weren't in their swim form. They were in a humanoid body that didn't feel like theirs and had 8 tentacles. And the tentacles weren't in the right place, either. When they reached up and patted their own head, they felt a substance that they had only felt once before, from a good friend of theirs. Hair. And it wasn't on their tentacles. This wasn't something that was typically on an Octoling. Unless the Octoling had been Fuzzified, there was no hair on their body at all.
"H-hello!?"
They stammered, sounding absolutely mortified. Their voice... they sounded masculine now. And their voice was deeper. Had they hit Octopuberty a second time!?!? They were used to watery-sounding warbles, not this.
This wasn't their body. This is someone else's. What happened to their body? Are they fine? Would the poor person who had just become subjected to being a Sanitized Octoling be fine? Maybe dreams are prophetic.
No, this isn't a dream.
This was a nightmare come true.
--
@NP if you need more information about them hmu 😻😻😻😻 I have sooo much more that I haven't had the time to write
You're also in the now-abandoned Deepsea Metro, ruined after 8 fought Tartar smiley face. It's from Splatoon 2 OE. Me personally I think that station got FUCKED UP I don't CARE if the devs say it didn't IT GOT FUCKED UP
When Allegro first opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the paint. Colorful combinations of colors coated spots that weren't completely broken and blown away. Now that he got a better look, he realized this wasn't any place he'd ever seen before. How strange. It looked to be some kind of subway station, but as he looked up at the windows above, he saw no clouds or sun, but instead water. He was underwater. Had he been kidnapped?
No, if it was then surely he would have heard heartbeats. He couldn't hear anything right now, could it be he was alone? Something told him it wasn't entirely as simple as that. As Allegro climbed to his feet, he realized why he felt that way.
How interesting, he thought. He would have said it out loud, but noticed he had no voice. A siren without a voice, what an amusing paradox. Almost as amusing at the fact that he wasn't in his own body.
He stared down at himself, taking note of the interesting clothes and even more interesting color of his skin. He glanced upwards to his... was that hair? They looked like tentacles. Had he been cursed? But why bring him to a place like this? Allegro looked over at it once more, spotting a few signs that weren't damaged. There was a language on it, but one he couldn't recognize.
Some exploring would have to do, then surely he'd find an explanation to all of this.
You can pick another of my lads if you'd like, but if you choose him you can choose whether you also get his ability to hear all the heartbeats around him!
Headaches weren't terribly uncommon, but nor were they something Beck came to expect waking up in the morning. Or waking up at all. Indeed, it was hard to tell what exactly the time was in this relatively dark room. In fact, not only was it dark, but it was entirely foreign to their senses. Beck's been in a lot of bedrooms, after all, so they are certain they'd remember a bedroom like this if they'd ever been here before.
The moment they start to sit up, they frown. They'd been in their current body for well... they'd lost count of the years, but it was far long enough that they could tell simply by moving, that this body was not theirs. It was down to the way muscles flexed and relaxed as they slowly took stock of this body.
At least they weren't dying. That was always good. Slowly, Beck tries again, standing and stretching out the stiffness from the uncomfortable position they'd woken up in. The change in height makes the first few steps feel unsteady, but they'd always been a quick learner anyway.
Odd, now that they were standing a looking down at the distinctly male body they'd found themself in, it was odd that the clothes seemed familiar to their senses, but wearing them was wildly different enough to still conceal the identity of just which poor soul she managed to commandeer the body of.
They survey the room for just a moment, freezing when they hear a rustle and look to the foot of the bed. Their now celeste eyes flick down and lock on a face much more familiar than anything else.
Well, seeing a person you recognize is a good start. It's a bad start though, if they're tied up at the foot of the bed. Without even thinking, Beck kneels close to Isolde, reaching for the rope, intending to untie her.
"What the he-" Beck almost immediately stops speaking as soon as they hear the voice, and a hand flies to their thoat. Something more akin to dread settles in their stomach. They knew that voice, at least on a instictual level. There's a large mirror not to far away, something they'd only noted in their periphery, the need to check this body's appearance ignored at the shocking appearance of someone Beck considered themselves on decent terms with. At least until now.
Fear wins out, as finally, they turn and look into the mirror. Their stomach immediately twists, and they almost fall right into Isolde. They'd only encounted the man known as Renard perhaps once or twice, but it was an encounter Beck knows they're unlikely to ever forget. It's perhaps not the face she sees in her nightmares relating to the incident, nor the voice, but the feeling. The feeling of being near an impossibility. Of something that was never meant to be seen. By mortal eyes or otherwise.
The look of shock and fear is uncharacteristic on that face, but it matches how Beck's heart nearly leaps from their chest at the sight. This was so much worse than they'd ever imagined. Right into the fire, screw the frying pan. They take a moment to regulate their breathing, their gaze tearing away from that terrifyingly familiar appearance and back to Isolde.
Though they'd be ashamed to admit it, they consider running and not looking back. Who knows what meddling in this affair would bring them? But could they live with leaving Isolde here, to face whatever Renard's intentions had been. Those glvoed hands twitch as they look at Isolde through the mirror.
Well, it would be far from the worst tactical move they've made in their long lifetime. What's the harm in adding another to the list? Maybe it would be worth a good laugh. Beck turns back to Isolde with a hum, and begins to untie her.
"Alright, I'm sure this is all must be very confusing and perplexing, I know it's been for me." They chuckle nervously and stand carefully. They take a breath and a mischevious smile flickers across their features. "But, since I am here... I may as well make the most of it, no? And I can think of no better way to do that than spoiling someone else's..." Beck pauses and clears their throat. "Fun, if you could call it that. Besides, I'm sure he's having quite the time where I was last anyways. Best make the most of it."
@ NP: Beck is a world hopper so they can realistically be anywhere. Idk just have some silly fun.