i'm ivory. you might see my search thread going around [here] but this is a place for my creativity, roleplay or not. i write one-shots, headcanons, roleplays, even little blurbs here and there.
what would you do if you woke up in a new body every day?
Casper, the friendly ghost, wanders without a home or body to call their own. the image claim is for when Casper finds their rightful place in the world with their own identity.
― profile details
alias ; Casper
twenty
January first [zodiac ; capricorn]
genderfluid ; pronouns of the host ; all pronouns
queer ; undecided
determined by host ; five feet, ten inches
determined by host ; rosewood coloured hair
determined by host ; honeycomb coloured eyes
―virtues Empathetic; even if Casper can't determine their own traits from the host's influence, they've at least learned that they have more emotion than some. This one also comes with the ability to see through others' eyes, as they've learned that everyone goes through different life experiences. Casper could understand anyone, even if their motivations are ridiculous to others, they have the ability to see life through their eyes, to essentially hear what they think and feel what they feel. Kind-hearted; this one also ties in with being empathetic. Since Casper can "see all", they've learned not to judge people and therefore, to be kind to others. No one really knows what someone is going through and with a few past experiences, they've decided to just try and be nice to everyone, even as the host, they attempt to be polite in hopes of not accidentally hurting someone. They just want to make life a bit easier for some people. Caring; they care a lot. Even if they lie and say they don't, they always will. Casper can't turn it off, in fact. They worry constantly about old hosts, they hope that those brief encounters at least helped someone out. Caring about the host, they try to do everything they can in order to make sure that they (the host) are being the best version of themselves.
― vices Gloomy; when the night gets a little to lonely, they reflect on who they are and what their purpose is. Naturally, this makes them sad because of the obvious setbacks restrictions that come with this lifestyle. This doesn't usually leak through their persona but it always lingers in the back of their mind, allowing for a twinge of sadness to be seen (even as the host) when asked about friends, family or the possible future. Hopeless; in most senses, Casper has accepted that they won't ever be their own person or inhabit their own unique form. There's nothing else to say, other than Casper is defeated by fate and gave up, resulting in having no hope for themselves. Passive; Casper doesn't have a strong backbone. They can't truly do anything for themselves and whenever they disagree with the host, they don't want to fight and become extremely passive and a push-over. They don't like yelling or arguing, they could be bossed around by anyone (unless the host is a very confrontational person but the trait has never stuck with them).
―likes
Music, any type of positive experience, getting to know others, exploration, people that are easy to possess
―dislikes
Violence & gore, wasting things, being alone in the dark, the sun ("It's too bright!" - Casper, dramatically melting)
― the spirit's life
The spirit will possess a new body every day at midnight exactly. No exceptions are made, no matter what the host’s body is currently doing (i.e. driving, eating, at a party or sleeping)
The new body will not be far from the last, and will always be the same age but varying in gender, sex, ethnicity, etc. This has allowed the spirit to determine their birthday and proper age
The spirit has access to the host’s memories. Their mind is asleep but the spirit can still detect their thought process, allowing them to determine what the host wants. Based on that, they can make choices on the host’s behalf, as well as interact with people and such.
Concerning behaviour, they have to do their best. It won’t be perfect, as their own personality will often clash with the host’s but they have to live up the body’s wants and demands, even if the Spirit doesn’t agree or like it.
When the spirit leaves the body, the host will return. To them, it’ll seem like some odd day, they might feel tired mentally or want to sleep. As for their memory, they’ll remember the day, but feel a certain disconnect, and usually, it’ll be considered as an “off day” or “I wasn’t feeling well.”
If the spirit wants to do something the host extremely disagrees with or is too out of character for them, the spirit will be getting some kind of mental backlash. It’s an instinct that lets them read into the host’s mind and thought process, deciphering what they want and don’t want. The more severe those feelings, the more they’ll be forced to do said action, to the point where it might come off as a compulsion or rash choice to the spirit.
― family
None, unfortunately. Casper doesn't exactly know if they were human beforehand or not. They don't consider hosts to be their friends or family and have certainly forgotten what it feels like to have a connection with anyone. This makes them lonely, meaning that they crave a connection (as themselves and not the host).
"you realize they're all just fucked up too... and lost"
you don't choose who you fall for, you never get to choose, but you can choose how you want to love them. do it, love as much as you can, before karma comes around the corner with the knife you left in her back.
― profile details
Ezekiel "Zeke" Cassata
Twenty three
December seventh [zodiac ; sagittarius ]
demi-male
it's a sliding scale; "people are people, i like people i can vibe with, that's it"
six feet, two inches
chocolate brown hair
fudge coloured eyes
―virtues smart; he's gifted in terms of intelligence, common-sense, reverse psychology and street language with a bit of book smart. though, he tends to radiate this "dumbass" energy because of the way he acts. Zeke has little to no trouble at reading social cues and situations, and oftentimes, won't involve himself if it's not his case. he makes the good choices that make him seem like he's got all of his shit together. sweet; when he wants to, Zeke can be an absolute sweetheart to those he knows. he likes to show people he cares, just so he can say he never tried or that it was "too late" to let them know. He cosplays as some rugged male but really, he's a soft boy. he can't stand the idea of someone not knowing how he feels, or not understanding he only wanted to help rather than harm. low-key; his business is his business, not anyone else's. Zeke deals with private matters in privacy and stays out of as much drama as possible. avoids the public eye and prefers not to be the centre of attention to many things.
― vices mistrusting; an old issue but one that doesn't go away. Zeke doesn't like trusting people with secrets and tends to keep all of them to himself until they either destroy him or become common knowledge. he doesn't mind sharing about himself but expects a fair-trade in return, and sometimes, he would rather not even have to think of himself. anxious; oh my god, this man is always afraid of something. he's not a wimp but he's riddled with anxiety, phobias and irrational fears that mostly pertain to social situations. he's the kind of guy that hides from the teacher so they wouldn't have to present in front of the class. he doesn't like being the spotlight that's it. passive; passive isn't often a bad thing but in this case, Zeke would much rather be a doormat and avoid confrontation than approach it head-on. a pacifist, couldn't hurt a soul even if his life depended on it. one hundred percent relies on his "someone else" to do it for him.
―likes
instrumental music, small cats, african violets, goats, football [he plays as qt], cold water, sparkly things
―dislikes
wet grass, geese, black-out poetry, people who disrespect his nana, restrictions, homework, lattes
― family
An older ister, who works as a firefighter, a mother who owns a hair salon and a five-star chef as a father. Everyone's not completely put together, Thanksgivings are a little rough but only because of the distance that prevents more visits. Zeke also loves his Nana (grandmother) and cousin, who's going through medical school.
die a hero or live long enough to become the villain. set in the future, she fights a war that others fear. she gave them mercy, now who's going to give her any?
She never asked for this. To be torn apart and put back together, again and again… To be made a monster; she could’ve died a hero. No was never an option, consent wasn’t needed, she was essentially a cadaver. A heart that would barely beat, a body that was broken, bruises coated her skin like a new layer of flesh. War decorated her body in various scars, marring her clear skin with unforgivable trademarks. It was like a sigil to the devil, it brought cursed images to her head every time dreary irises caught a glimpse. Unconscious, only to wake up in pain, multiple times a day as the doctors, surgeons, gathered around her, staring at her metallic limbs as if she were an alien. She felt like one. The day she looked in the mirror, she nearly collapsed, unsure who she was staring at anymore. Novacaine (a nickname her comrades gave her) had died in action, this was someone else.
Pain is what made her feel alive on that fateful day. It was what shocked her comatose brain into restarting again, trying to send cells, trying to find where the injury was. It was everywhere and no amount of drugs could make it stop. Pain is what woke her today as if it were any other dull morning. The first thing she notices is that her mind is freer than it had been, the cloud of numbness had receded while she slept. Her whole form was sore, although radiated change; an unwelcome one. Glassy eyes snap open, silent in her movements, she feels the protruding wires, stares at the large green fluid that’s being pumped into her bloodstream. Her hand twitches and she glances down at it, the steady whizzes of machines after machines, lined up and connected to various points of her body. Stiff but not a statue, Nova shifts to sit up gently, feeling the shift of metal plates in her back that replaced bone.
Without intervention, Nova was paralyzed. From the waist down, her spinal cord suffered a hard blow, essentially severing itself as a blade stuck itself in her spine. The rest came from a head injury, a few broken connections that prevented her arms from functioning properly. When she did wake up, in the scientist’s lab, she had to retrain her mind and body. Although, willingly, she never did much. They had a way to force her, with synthetic nerve connections, they quite honestly swapped her brain with a computer, a set of wires that travelled to her central nervous system and from there, branched out into her other limbs. It controlled everything, and while she woke up altered, she wanted nothing more than death. There was too much pain.
The weakness in her arms is evident, as she tries to raise herself higher but ultimately failing. Not strapped to a bed, a significant change from the previous risings. They didn’t want her to escape, not that she could but it was a safety precaution. Her throat is dry, speaking doesn’t come and she simply stares, analyzing the room. This lab is unfamiliar, prompting her to wonder if they transferred her to somewhere… much lower in status and capability. This was essentially a… garage? Puzzled, Nova cares not where this is, but rather, what’s happening to her. The static that’s usually present, clouding her entire mind as if were high, was missing too. Able to garner a proper train of thought, she picks apart the scene carefully. A beat passes before things begin to click, her mind digs up the last few things she can remember.
Laid on an exam table, she was trapped inside her own head. The man who stood above her, whose name she doesn’t want to remember, began picking her apart, scraping her body. He was tearing out materials, deactivating her system. She didn’t even get the courtesy of sleep, they didn’t care anymore, they wanted her gone. Where she ended up afterwards is a mystery, they didn’t exactly bother to explain it to her. After all, it wasn’t like she was supposed to live after this. It’s a memory that burns her, a splintering headache travels through her mind. It’s been ages since she’s had free will; her body was on a program.
Her body looks further from itself than it ever has, although Nova can’t recall when it didn’t look robotic. Layers of her were replaced with panels. They called it a protective suit of armour, to shield what was inside because it was worth more than her comfort. Right now, her form looks less than normal, the plates on her body stopped blending in, their camouflage disappeared in favour of silver and white scraps. They gather in patches on her body, seeing as some of them have already begun to recognize life again. Only parts had reactivated but Nova knows the rest will follow now that her mind is slowly starting to wake up. The increased brain activity would help knock everything back into place again.
Dizzied from just thinking, the sloshing of the green tank starts to bother her. Irritation boils under her skin as the pain begins to rise. She can’t do this again, she can’t go through this again. Whoever has her now, they’ll likely be playing with her as if she were a doll or some little project. As fast as she can (which is actually pretty slow), she tugs at one of her arms, feeling the pull of electrical cords once more. Gritting her teeth, she tries to remain silent for the looming presence that’s asleep. A lone male is snoring peacefully nearby. He doesn’t exude the same air as the earlier ones had but she doesn’t trust anyone that tampers with her. Slinking a hand across her stomach, she briefly feels around, noting the differences but shoving them aside for now. Her heartbeat remains steady despite the rising panic that trembles her body, shivers crawl up her spine but she can’t feel the temperature. That part hasn’t changed.
It’s not as quiet as she would’ve liked. In a moment, she takes a shallow breath before a vigorous movement yanks her free from the cords. Tearing them out of her body, only a thin stream of blood exits the incision sites. She’s lost most of it to bio components now, artificially made fluid that would erase the need for specific blood transfusions. It was blood, but better and illegal. One of the machines, upon being jostled, topples and hits the ground, creating a large thud that echoes through the room. There is no going back now, stealth is out but Nova just wants out. Movement in her legs is limited and as she tries to slide herself off the table, she collapses onto the ground, hands bracing her fall and keeping her at least upright for now. Reduced to a pile of frayed wires and broken nerve connections, dammit. The rest of those cables came out during the fall, disconnecting with a spark that made her flinch. Hasty breaths, despite the regular beat of her heart, a shocking fact. What kind of monster was she now?
