#it was too long to fit in the discord so I posted it here

[remxedmoon]

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

[inkyquillstories]

A Body Swap Study

Author’s Note:

This is a long one but I hope you enjoy it. Had this story in mind for a while but I was looking for the perfect pair of men to use. The pics here are the SFW version. If you wanna see the full NSFW version, you can see them on my discord: https://discord.gg/mMY9wSu4rS

There’s considerably less photos in the tumblr post than the one on discord

A Body Swap Study: Posters had begun appearing throughout the city, each one promising an opportunity too good to be true. The details were vague yet enticing: a groundbreaking psychological and neurological study seeking male participants between the ages of 18 and 60. The commitment was significant—a full year in a secured facility—but so were the incentives. Housing, meals, and an eye-watering sum of money were offered in exchange for participation. A non-disclosure agreement was mandatory, hinting at the study’s highly confidential nature. Some dismissed it as a scam, but for those desperate enough, it was an irresistible lifeline.

Silas was one of those people. A twenty-year-old aspiring actor in Los Angeles, he had once been confident that success was just around the corner. Yet, after countless auditions and endless rejections, he found himself unable to pay rent, with no prospects in sight. Handsome, fit, and brimming with charisma, he carried himself with the bravado of someone who had the world at his feet. But behind that confidence lay a man aware of how precarious his situation had become. When he saw the poster, he barely hesitated before signing up. It was money, stability—just for a year. How bad could it be?

Rob, on the other hand, had just lost his job. It wasn’t the first time. Overweight since childhood, he had grown accustomed to the silent judgments and casual dismissals of others. He was highly intelligent, kind-hearted, but plagued with insecurities that made it difficult to navigate social situations. His appetite was insatiable, his body unaccustomed to exercise, and he often sweated excessively, making him self-conscious about his appearance. When he stumbled upon the poster, it felt like a godsend. He needed money, and if spending a year in a research facility was the price, so be it.

The research team was flooded with applications, but two names stood out: Silas and Rob. Their physical and psychological differences made them ideal candidates. When they arrived at the state-of-the-art facility, they were greeted by Dr. Hank, a middle-aged man with an air of quiet authority. He welcomed them into a sleek, modern space filled with cutting-edge technology and a team of eager scientists. As Silas and Rob exchanged glances, their immediate impressions of each other were hard to ignore.

Silas couldn't tear his eyes away from Rob, his gaze flickering between disgust and disbelief. The sight of him—slouched and bloated—made something twist deep in Silas’ gut. How could someone let themselves reach this point? Rob's clothes hung loosely on his frame, but it was clear the fabric couldn’t fully conceal the rolls of flesh beneath. His face, once vaguely youthful, now sagged with an unflattering weight, his skin stretched tight around the folds like it was struggling to keep up with the overwhelming bulk.

The size difference between them was so stark it almost seemed like a cruel joke. Silas stood tall, lean, a picture of discipline and control. And then there was Rob, who looked as though he'd long given up on any semblance of self-respect. His greasy hair hung limply, a stark contrast to the neatly combed strands Silas took so much pride in. The small beads of sweat on Rob’s forehead seemed to reflect a deeper, unspoken struggle—one that Silas couldn’t quite place but that filled him with an uncomfortable mixture of superiority and contempt.

A huff of disbelief escaped Silas before he could stop it. How does someone let themselves go like that?

Yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, he scolded himself. He knew nothing of Rob’s life, his struggles, or how he had ended up this way. It wasn’t fair to judge him for his body alone. Still, it was difficult not to feel a sense of superiority.

Rob’s gaze lingered on Silas, and for a moment, he felt a sharp pang of envy twist in his chest. Silas exuded a kind of effortless confidence that Rob had always longed for, something he could never seem to grasp. His eyes traced Silas’ lean, sculpted form, the way his clothes fit him perfectly, as if every inch of him had been meticulously designed for maximum impact. There was a magnetic energy around him, a self-assuredness that Rob could never seem to summon, no matter how hard he tried.

It was frustrating—almost maddening—watching Silas move with that kind of ease, as if nothing in the world could faze him. Rob had dreamed of that confidence, had imagined walking into a room and commanding attention without even trying. He’d fantasized about being in shape, about going to the gym and chiseling his body into something that might make him proud, but the reality of his lazy habits, his poor diet, and his inability to break free from his patterns always held him back.

But standing next to Silas now, the gap between them felt painfully insurmountable. He couldn’t ignore the stark contrast: where Silas was sharp, defined, and disciplined, Rob felt sluggish, soft, and weak. A bitter jealousy simmered under his skin, but there was something else too—a strange, almost involuntary thrill at the sheer difference between them.

As his eyes briefly scanned Silas’ body, he felt a jolt, a tightness in his chest that he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just envy. There was a certain pull to Silas—something more than just admiration. Rob didn’t quite know how to label it, but there was a raw, magnetic attraction in the way Silas stood, in the way his presence seemed to fill the room. It stirred something deep inside Rob, a hunger he’d never fully understood, an aching desire to somehow be that person, to embody that power, that control.

But, even as these thoughts circled in his mind, he pushed them down, focusing instead on the fleeting hope that this experiment, whatever it was, might be his chance to finally change. To escape his stagnant life and step into something new. The envy was still there, but now it was tinged with a desperate yearning, an almost primal desire to shed his old self and embrace whatever might be possible with Silas’ image, if only for a moment.

Dr. Hank soon gathered them for an explanation. The study, he revealed, was not just about the brain—it was about identity itself. The goal was to explore what happened when the mind was gradually reshaped to fit a new body. This wouldn’t be an instant switch. Instead, over the course of months, every aspect of their lives would be systematically exchanged. By the end of the experiment, their minds would fully adapt to their new identities.

Both men were horrified. The idea of losing themselves, even temporarily, was unnerving. But Dr. Hank calmly reminded them of the immense compensation they would receive. He assured them that the process would be entirely reversible and that Silas and Rob would return to the outside world when the study concluded. It was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless. With some hesitation, they signed the NDA and the consent forms, sealing their fate.

After signing, they were introduced to the rest of the research team and given a tour of the facility. It was more luxurious than either of them had expected—a strange fusion of laboratory and resort. There was a buffet, a gym, an arcade, and even outdoor spaces like a pool and lush green parks. Each man was given a private room, equipped with all the comforts of home. For a moment, it almost felt like a vacation. Almost.

The first phase of the experiment was simple: a swap of personal objects. They were instructed to exchange clothes in front of each other, a task that made Silas uneasy from the start. As he pulled off his fitted designer t-shirt, he couldn’t help but glance over at Rob’s exposed body standing before him. The difference between them was almost jarring. Rob’s stomach protruded noticeably, his belly soft and rounded, the fabric of his shirt clinging tightly to the folds of flesh beneath. His arms were thick, but the weight wasn’t muscle; his skin, slick with residual sweat, reflected a life of neglect.

Silas’ gaze lingered briefly on the stretch marks crisscrossing Rob’s torso, a stark contrast to his own firm, meticulously cared-for body. It wasn’t a feeling of disgust, not exactly, but a deep sense of disbelief at the reality of the man in front of him—someone who lived in a completely different world, a world Silas had never been forced to acknowledge until now.

As Rob peeled off his jeans, Silas’ eyes flickered downward despite himself, taking in the full extent of the contrast between them. Rob’s thighs were thick, heavy, pressing against each other with every movement, the skin slightly chafed where they rubbed together. His calves, though large, lacked the definition Silas was used to seeing on his own body, and his knees seemed almost swallowed by the surrounding flesh. Silas couldn’t help but notice the way Rob’s stomach sagged slightly over the waistband of his underwear, the elastic digging into his skin, leaving faint red marks. His hips were wide, his lower body carrying the bulk of his weight, and even the way he stood—feet planted firmly apart for balance—was so different from Silas’ own natural stance. 

As he slid Rob’s oversized, sweat-dampened shirt over his head, Silas was hit with an immediate discomfort. The fabric, heavy and loose, hung off his own frame like a sack, draping over his well-defined muscles in an unfamiliar way. The scent of Rob’s body—a mixture of stale deodorant and the lingering musk of someone who didn’t care much for hygiene—clung to the fabric, making Silas wrinkle his nose. The jeans were even worse—baggy and stretched out in places that seemed unnatural. They hung off him awkwardly, as if he were a child playing dress-up in his father’s old clothes. His discomfort deepened, the weight of Rob’s existence—his habits, his choices—pressing down on him in a way that felt almost suffocating. Silas swallowed hard, fighting the unease rising in his chest. This wasn’t just an exchange of clothes; it was a glimpse into a life he had never truly understood, and the reality was far more unsettling than he had imagined.

Meanwhile, Rob’s hands trembled slightly as he peeled off his old, sweat-stained t-shirt and handed it to Silas. He had seen fit men before—on television, at the gym he had always been too intimidated to enter—but never had he stood so close to someone like Silas, let alone stripped down before them. His eyes traveled over Silas’ body, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. Silas was everything he had ever wanted to be—lean, toned, effortlessly powerful. His chest was firm, each muscle subtly defined without being overly bulky, his stomach tight and sculpted, as if he had never known the struggle of excess weight. His shoulders were broad, his arms chiseled, his entire frame carrying a natural confidence that came from discipline, from a life of control.

As Silas removed his last layer, Rob felt a pang of something deeper than envy—an aching realization that they were built for entirely different worlds. When he stepped into Silas’ crisp, perfectly fitted clothes, the waistband snug against his stomach, he felt like an imposter. This wasn’t just an exchange of fabric—it was a fleeting, painful glimpse into the life he had always wished for but had never been able to reach.

Rob’s eyes traced Silas’ form with an almost analytical intensity, absorbing every detail of the body he had always longed for. His chest was firm and smooth, his pectoral muscles subtly defined, rising and falling with steady breaths. His collarbones jutted out ever so slightly, accentuating the lean, angular structure of his upper body. Silas’ arms, even at rest, carried an effortless strength—biceps and triceps taut beneath his skin, veins faintly visible along his forearms, a sign of low body fat and rigorous training. His stomach was a masterpiece of discipline, each muscle carved into a set of defined abs that tensed slightly with every shift of his posture. Lower down, his hips were narrow, his waist trim, leading to long, toned legs with thighs firm and proportionate, the muscles apparent even in stillness. His calves were sharply contoured, the kind Rob had always envied in runners or athletes, shaped by years of movement and effort. Even his stance was different—relaxed but assured, as though he had never once worried about how much space he took up. Rob swallowed hard, not out of embarrassment, but from the sheer weight of the comparison. Silas’ body wasn’t just different—it was proof of everything Rob wasn’t, everything he had always wished he could be.

Rob couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy mixed with awe. Was it really possible for a person to look this… perfect? He had always admired fit men from afar, but seeing Silas up close like this made his own body feel even heavier in comparison.  

Sliding into Silas’s clothes was an entirely different experience—one that filled Rob with a strange, exhilarating thrill. The shirt was snug, hugging his body in ways he wasn’t used to. It was strange, almost suffocating, but he didn’t hate it. In fact, he reveled in it. The fabric was soft, clean, and carried a faint scent of expensive cologne—nothing like the lingering musk that clung to his usual clothes. When he lifted his arms again, the motion brought a fresh wave of Silas' scent—an intoxicating mix of soap, skin, and something subtly masculine that Rob couldn't quite place. He inhaled before he could stop himself, a flicker of something heady and unfamiliar stirring inside him.

The jeans were impossibly tight, and he struggled to button them over his stomach, but he relished the sensation of wearing something meant for someone like Silas. He stood up straighter, tilting his chin slightly, imagining what it must feel like to actually *belong* in these clothes. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to believe—just maybe—this experiment could give him more than just money.

Aside from that, they also exchanged wallets, IDs, and phones. The symbolism was clear—this was the first step in becoming each other. From that moment on, they were required to wear each other's clothes. It felt ridiculous, even surreal, but they reminded themselves that it was all temporary. Just a year, and then they would return to normal. Or so they thought. That afternoon, Silas and Rob sat across from each other in one of the facility’s sleek, minimalist lounge areas. A small recording device sat between them, its red light blinking steadily, a silent witness to the exchange that was about to take place. Dr. Hank had given them clear instructions—share everything. Every detail of their lives had to be known by the other, down to the smallest habits and personal quirks. If they were going to live as each other, they had to be each other. 

Rob cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Alright… I guess I’ll go first," he said. "My full name is Robert Daniel Whitmore. I was born in Chicago, Illinois. I’m twenty-six. Only child. My mom raised me on her own after my dad left when I was a baby. We didn’t have much growing up, but she worked hard to give me a good education. I was always the smart kid, the one with his nose in a book. I studied computer science at the University of Illinois, but I never really fit in. I… I always felt like an outsider, you know?" His voice softened, eyes darting away. "And yeah, I’ve always been… big. I tried to lose weight a few times, but food was kind of my escape. It still is." 

Silas listened, arms resting on the back of the couch. He forced himself to absorb everything. It wasn’t just words—it was supposed to be his new reality. "Alright," he said, exhaling. "I’m Silas Maddox. Full name Silas James Maddox. Born and raised in Los Angeles. I’m twenty. I have one sibling. It’s just my dad, sister, and I after my mom passed away when I was a kid. He’s a talent agent, got me into acting when I was little. Did a bunch of commercials, tried for bigger roles, but nothing really stuck. I work part-time as a waiter, but acting’s always been my dream. I hit the gym every morning, keep myself in shape—image is everything in my business. And, well…" He gave a dry chuckle. "Let’s just say I’m used to getting attention." 

Rob nodded, trying to picture himself in Silas’s world. The glitz, the constant pressure to be seen, to be perfect. It was so far from his own reality that it almost felt like fiction. Meanwhile, Silas tried to imagine Rob’s life—long nights behind a computer, the loneliness of always being the outsider, the struggle of trying to change and never quite succeeding.  

For the next few hours, they drilled each other on details. Favorite foods, childhood memories, allergies, daily routines. Silas now had a mother who sent long-winded texts about his health. Rob now had a father who expected him to make it big in Hollywood. The longer they spoke, the more their lives intertwined, and the more unsettling it became. By the end of it, they weren’t just learning—they were becoming.

Afterwards, Dr. Hank paced in front of them with a clipboard in hand. The sterile white walls of the facility seemed to press in on him, making him feel trapped in something far more intense than he had expected. He glanced at Rob, who looked equally uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, his thick fingers fidgeting with the hem of Silas’s former shirt. Dr. Hank finally stopped pacing and turned to them with a sharp, expectant smile.  

"Alright, let’s begin," Dr. Hank said, adjusting his glasses. "Silas—" He paused, then corrected himself with a smirk. "No, I should say… Rob. Let’s hear you introduce yourself."  

Silas hesitated. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his jaw tightening before he finally spoke. "Uh… My name is Robert Daniel Whitmore, but you can call me Rob." The words felt foreign, wrong, like an ill-fitting costume.  

Dr. Hank nodded encouragingly. "Good. And how old are you, Rob?"  

Silas clenched his jaw. He wanted to say twenty, but he knew that wasn’t the right answer anymore. "I’m twenty-six," he muttered.  

Dr. Hank’s smirk widened. "And tell me, Rob, between you two, are you the fit man or the overweight man?"  

Silas exhaled sharply through his nose. His instinct was to scoff, to argue, but he caught himself. That wasn’t what Rob would do. That wasn’t what he was supposed to do anymore. "I… I’m the overweight one," he admitted, his voice quieter than before. The words felt like acid on his tongue. 

Dr. Hank nodded approvingly before turning to Rob. "And you—Silas—let’s hear it."  

Rob sat up straighter, as if already stepping into his new role. "I’m Silas James Maddox, but you can call me Silas," he said, his voice steadier than Silas had expected. "I’m twenty years old." He paused, then smirked slightly. "And I’m the fit one." 

Silas narrowed his eyes at Rob’s confidence, while Dr. Hank merely chuckled. "Excellent. Now, let’s make sure this sticks."  

For the next hour, Dr. Hank continued his relentless questioning, drilling into their heads who they now were. Silas had to repeat again and again that he was Rob, that he was the older, overweight man. Rob, meanwhile, seemed to grow more comfortable each time he stated that he was Silas, that he was the younger, athletic one. By the end of the session, Silas felt mentally exhausted, as if his very identity was being pried from his grip.  

Dr. Hank set his clipboard down with a satisfied nod. "Good work, gentlemen. From now on, there are no mistakes. You will refer to each other, and yourselves, by your new identities. The more you embrace it, the easier it will be."  

Silas let out a slow breath, glancing at Rob. He had no idea just how deep this experiment was going to go. And worse—he had no idea if he was ready for it.

The weeks that followed the initial introductions were grueling, both mentally and physically. Dr. Hank made it clear that the next phase was about full immersion. But it wasn’t just their identities that were being exchanged. Their diets were next. "If you’re going to live as each other," Dr. Hank had said, "you’ll eat as each other. Starting now."

The new Silas—Rob, still in his own chubbier frame but tasked with assuming Silas’s habits—stared at the plate in front of him: grilled chicken breast, steamed broccoli, and a side of quinoa. Across the table, the new Rob—Silas, with his muscular build but wearing Rob’s baggy clothes —eyed a towering burger, fries glistening with oil, and a milkshake dripping with whipped cream.

“You actually eat this stuff?” Silas muttered, poking at the burger with a mix of disgust and curiosity. Rob smirked, shoveling a forkful of quinoa into his mouth. “Better than rabbit food,” he shot back, though the dryness of the healthy meal made him wince.

What neither of them realized, however, was that the food had been tampered with. The meals, though appearing perfectly ordinary, had been subtly altered by the research team. The healthy dishes prepared for Rob were enhanced with compounds designed to make nutrient-dense foods more palatable, triggering cravings for lighter fare. Meanwhile, the indulgent meals given to Silas had been treated to mimic the addictive flavors of greasy, calorie-laden comfort food. Their bodies wouldn’t gain or lose a pound—Dr. Hank had ensured that—but their preferences were another matter entirely.

At first, the meals were torturous. Rob struggled to finish the modest portions, his stomach growling in defiance as he longed for something heavier. Silas, on the other hand, grimaced with every bite of greasy fries, his usual discipline warring with the newfound compulsion to clean his plate. But as the days turned into weeks, the changes began to take root. Rob found himself enjoying the lightness of a spinach salad, while Silas’s hand reached for a second helping of lasagna without hesitation. They didn’t notice the shift—not consciously, at least. But Dr. Hank did. From behind the mirrored glass of the observation room, he watched with quiet satisfaction as the experiment progressed exactly as planned. The transition wasn’t just about knowledge anymore. It was about instinct. The lines between Silas and Rob were beginning to blur, and neither of them could see it yet.

The gym was pristine, almost clinical in its design, with mirrored surfaces and gleaming equipment that looked barely touched. Silas and Rob stood in their respective rooms, separated only by the large glass wall between them. Everything had been designed to be identical—the machines, the placement of the dumbbells, even the lighting. It was as if they were inside a perfectly symmetrical illusion. The only thing breaking the reflection was the fact that the man staring back at them wasn’t their own.  

Silas adjusted the snug, moisture-wicking shirt he had been given, shifting uncomfortably. It clung to his torso, emphasizing his lean, muscular build.

Across from him, Rob wore the same outfit—except on him, it stretched awkwardly over his stomach and arms, highlighting every roll and bulge. Silas tried to keep his expression neutral, but he could already feel the discomfort creeping in.

Dr. Hank’s voice crackled over the intercom, instructing them to begin their workout, ensuring they mirrored each other’s movements perfectly.  

Rob exhaled and gripped the dumbbells, his fingers tightening around the cold metal as he pulled them upward in a slow, deliberate bicep curl. His eyes immediately darted to the glass wall, where “his” reflection—Silas—moved in perfect sync. The thick veins running down “his” forearms bulged with each rep, his biceps peaking, flexing, contracting like coiled steel beneath his skin. His shoulders, broad and sculpted, rolled with effortless precision.

Rob felt a thrill surge through him.  

The illusion was mesmerizing. It was like looking into a mirror, but instead of seeing the soft, pudgy form he had known all his life, he saw strength. Definition. Perfection.  

He relished every second of it.  

He transitioned into shoulder presses, pushing the dumbbells overhead. His delts flared, the striations in “his” muscles appearing more defined with each movement. He admired how “his” pecs tightened, the sweat glistening over smooth, firm skin. It was intoxicating to see “his” body move with such effortless power. He had never looked so good—never *felt* so good. The glass wall was no longer just a tool for training; it was a portal into the life he had always craved. 

His favorite part of the session was squats. As he lowered his body, he savored the way his quads flexed and stretched, the way his hamstrings tightened with tension before he pushed back up with ease. The sheer athleticism reflected back at him made his pulse race. This was his body now. The reflection belonged to him. 

Silas, on the other hand, could barely stomach what he was seeing.  

Every movement felt wrong.  

Each rep, each squat, each contraction of his muscles only reinforced the horrifying illusion. He lifted his arms for a bicep curl, but instead of seeing his strong, defined arms moving in the reflection, he saw Rob—a version of himself that had become thick, heavy, and painfully out of shape. His once-chiseled forearms now looked soft. His chest, which had once been tight and strong, now appeared bloated, lacking any of the sharp contours he had worked so hard to maintain. 

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his breathing steady as he moved through the motions. The glass wall was unrelenting, forcing him to watch every painful second. The worst was when they moved to planks—he held himself up on his forearms, trembling not from exertion, but from disgust as he saw “his” stomach sag slightly, a clear reminder that Rob’s body was nowhere near as taut or conditioned as his own.  

It was unbearable. 

Rob, however, was still entranced. He smirked, flexing his arm slightly in between sets, watching “his” bicep bulge and harden. He turned slightly to get a better view of “his” back in the reflection, grinning at the way “his” lats flared out, creating the V-taper he had always dreamed of having.  

Silas caught the expression on Rob’s face and felt something bitter rise in his throat.  

Rob was enjoying this.  

His hands clenched into fists. He had spent years crafting his body into peak condition, years sculpting every muscle, and now, here was Rob—lazy, overweight Rob—basking in the illusion that he had built this physique. That it belonged to him. 

Silas wanted to scream.  

But there was nothing he could do except continue the workout, moving in perfect sync, locked in this cruel, twisted reflection of reality.

Mid-workout, the gym was filled with the rhythmic sounds of exertion—dumbbells clanking onto the rubber flooring, controlled breaths exhaling between sets, the occasional grunt of effort. Sweat glistened on both men’s bodies, soaking through their clothes as they pushed themselves further.   

Then Dr. Hank’s voice crackled through the intercom.  

"Now, switch gym clothes. All of it."

Silas stiffened. Rob’s breath hitched in excitement. That meant everything they were wearing. 

With no choice but to obey, Silas peeled off his tight, sweat-drenched compression shirt, grimacing as the cool air hit his damp skin. He looked down at his chiseled torso—his torso—before reluctantly reaching for Rob’s oversized, moisture-soaked tank top. The fabric was thick with sweat, carrying the unmistakable scent of Rob���s exertion. As he pulled it over his head, he shuddered at the way it clung uncomfortably to his body, the foreign musk invading his senses.  

Rob, on the other hand, grinned as he grabbed Silas’s sleek, fitted gym shirt. The material was thin, designed to hug every contour of Silas’s sculpted physique. As he slipped it on, he gasped—it fit. It actually fit. The snug compression wrapped perfectly around his man boobs, his flabby arms, emphasizing every ridge and valley of fat. He felt powerful. He also enjoyed smelling Silas’s musk on his own body.

Silas tugged at the loose tank top draped over his frame, feeling utterly disgusted. The fabric sagged at the chest, pooled slightly around his waist—*it didn’t belong on his body*. He tried to ignore the way it smelled, the way it reminded him with every inhale that this wasn’t *his* usual scent anymore.  

Then came Dr. Hank’s next command.  

"Silas, stand in front of the mirror and flex."

Rob’s pulse quickened.  

Silas hesitated, jaw tightening. Slowly, he stepped forward until he was directly in front of the glass. He knew what he would see. It never got easier. The reflection staring back at him wasn’t his own—it was Rob’s. His breath hitched slightly, the weight of the reality sinking in.   

Behind him, Rob watched with barely contained excitement.  

Silas lifted his arms, forcing his biceps to contract. The thick, rounded muscles peaked, veins pulsing beneath the surface. Rob mirrored the movement behind the glass wall, watching with hungry eyes as “his” body flexed in response. 

"Continue flexing through a full routine, Silas—keep mirroring Rob."  

Silas moved through each pose reluctantly, muscles rippling as he transitioned from a front double bicep to a side chest flex, his abs tightening with every motion.  

Rob, however, relished every second of it. He struck the same poses, mimicking the movements exactly, grinning as he watched his reflection respond. It was intoxicating, seeing himself like this. Strong. Dominant. Perfect. 

He hit a side tricep pose, watching the muscles coil and stretch, the lines crisp and well-defined. Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripping onto his chest, making his already toned body gleam under the gym lights.  

Silas, meanwhile, felt his stomach twist with resentment. He was being objectified—by Rob, of all people. He could feel the way Rob was drinking in the sight of “his” reflection, the way his eyes lingered on every flex, every contraction. 

"Now, continue your workout." said Dr. Hank

Silas turned away from the glass wall, thankful to be done, but Rob was still fixated on the illusion. He grabbed the barbell with renewed energy, eager to lift, to feel *his* muscles working.  

Silas did the same, but with every movement, he could feel Rob’s oversized tank top shifting awkwardly against his body, could smell the lingering musk of Rob’s sweat. His skin crawled.  

And yet, when he glanced up, Rob was staring at his reflection with utter admiration. The realization made his blood boil. Rob loved this. Loved the body that wasn’t even his.  

And worst of all—Silas couldn’t do anything about it.

After the grueling workout, their bodies were glistening with sweat, muscles sore yet warm from exertion. Dr. Hank’s voice crackled once again over the speaker.  

“Now, head to the showers. Same procedure applies—mirror each other’s actions.”  

Silas let out a slow, shaky breath. His body was screaming for relief, but the thought of yet another humiliating exercise made his stomach churn. Rob, however, practically vibrated with anticipation. He followed Silas out of the gym, every step feeling more natural—like he belonged in this role.   

When they arrived at the showers, Silas froze in the doorway. Just like the gym, it was designed to reinforce their mirrored roles. A false mirror stretched across the length of the shower stalls, but Silas knew better by now. It wasn’t a mirror at all—it was a transparent glass wall. On the other side, Rob stood in the exact same spot, his eager eyes locked onto Silas like a predator finally cornering its prey.  

“Similar in the gym, Silas leads. Rob follows.” 

The words rang in Silas’s ears like a death sentence.  

Rob moved himself forward, standing in front of the shower controls. Silas’s hands moved on autopilot as he turned the knob, warm water cascading down his body, rinsing away the sweat from the brutal training session. Every movement—every flex of muscle, every lift of his arms to wash his hair—was him copying Rob with unwavering precision. 

Rob’s eyes raked over Silas’s reflection—his reflection, in his mind—watching the way the water slid over his toned chest, down his sculpted abs, trailing lower and lower. He swallowed, enthralled by every defined muscle, the way Silas’s shoulders tensed, the sharp angles of his jawline when he tilted his head back into the stream. Even the way Silas ran his fingers through his wet hair looked effortlessly cool, effortlessly right. 

Rob mimicked every motion perfectly, but there was a difference. Silas was enduring this. Rob was savoring it.   

For Silas, this was another level of hell. Every time he opened his eyes, he wasn’t greeted by his own reflection, but by Rob’s body, doing exactly what he was doing. He scrubbed his arms, his chest, but every movement was mirrored by a body that wasn’t his—one that was softer, rounder, completely alien. His jaw clenched as he reached up to wash his armpits, his biceps flexing involuntarily—only to see Rob’s reflection doing the same. It almost felt hypnotic. 

His stomach twisted when he moved downward, washing his torso. The glass left nothing hidden. Every action was performed in sync, and even though he was looking at Rob, his mind hated how natural it felt—how his brain was beginning to accept that the body staring back at him was his own. 

Meanwhile, Rob was in heaven. He took his time, watching Silas’s every motion like it was a performance crafted just for him. His favorite part? Seeing the shifting expressions of frustration, anger, and helplessness on Silas’s face. It fueled him. It made him bask in the reality that he was winning—he was Silas now. 

When the shower ended, Dr. Hank’s voice returned.  

“Now, put on your clothes.”

Silas let out a slow breath, desperate to escape this psychological torture. But the torment wasn’t over yet. Their clothes had already been laid out for them—Rob’s outfit on Silas’s side. Silas’s outfit on Rob’s side.   

It was deliberate.  

With no choice, Silas grabbed the oversized shirt and loose sweatpants that reeked of Rob’s scent. The fabric felt wrong against his skin, swallowing his frame in a way that disgusted him. He tugged the shirt over his head, feeling like he was drowning in the unfamiliar cloth, the musk clinging to him. 

Rob, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He grabbed the fitted t-shirt, sliding it over his shoulders, marveling at how perfectly it contoured his chest, how snug it felt against his arms. He pulled on the athletic joggers, admiring the way they sat on his hips. 

When they stepped out of the showers, it was almost laughable how much they looked like each other. The real Silas, dressed in Rob’s oversized clothes, looked tired, burdened, out of place. The real Rob, dressed in Silas’s perfectly fitted outfit, looked energized, confident, as if he had never not been Silas.  

Without another word, they walked to their respective bedrooms. Or rather, each other’s bedrooms.   

Silas stepped into Rob’s room, the scent of junk food and unwashed clothes filling his nostrils, making him gag. Rob stepped into Silas’s room, inhaling the crisp, clean air with a satisfied smirk.   

This was exactly how it should be.

The psychological and the physical phases had started. Now it’s the social phase. At first, managing each other’s social media accounts had felt like a chore—a game of memorization, carefully choosing words and tones to match their new identities. But as weeks turned into months, it became second nature. Silas found himself scrolling through Rob’s old messages, responding to conversations about coding projects and online gaming as if he had always been part of that world. The new Rob was very hooked into gaming to escape his new reality.

Meanwhile, Rob was thriving, slipping effortlessly into the role of Silas Maddox. He flirted with confidence, set up dinner plans with strangers who had no idea they were speaking to someone completely different, and basked in the attention that came with being an attractive, fit young man. 

The dating profiles became a particular source of amusement for Rob. He had never experienced so many matches before—his inbox was flooded with eager messages, women (and even a few men) vying for his attention. But photos were crucial. Every potential match wanted proof that the man they were talking to was real, and that’s where Silas came in. Rob would direct him meticulously, instructing him to pose just right, flexing in ways that accentuated his muscles. "A little more light on your abs," Rob would say, adjusting the angle. "Turn your shoulders a bit—yeah, perfect." Sometimes Rob would do a picture for Silas to copy. Silas found the whole thing humiliating. His body had become a product for Rob to use, a tool to maintain the illusion. But the paycheck, the contract, the experiment—he reminded himself it was all temporary. 

Rob, however, had never felt more powerful. He scrolled through his matches, feeling giddy at the thought that people saw him—well, saw Silas—as desirable. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t invisible. He was the man others wanted. And with every post, every video, and every flexing picture he had Silas send, he felt himself sinking deeper into his new identity, wishing that maybe—just maybe—it didn’t have to end.

After a few more weeks, the next phase began. They were given necklaces that were simple, unassuming—thin chains with a small metallic pendant, cool to the touch as Dr. Hank placed them around their necks. Silas eyed his warily, rubbing the pendant between his fingers, but it felt ordinary. Rob, however, was eager. He had learned by now that every step of the experiment brought him closer to fully embodying Silas, and he welcomed it.  

Dr. Hank cleared his throat, beginning the usual round of questions. “Rob, what’s your name?” asking Silas.   

Silas exhaled sharply before answering, “Rob Whitmore.” But as soon as he spoke, his eyes widened. The voice that left his mouth wasn’t his own—it was deeper, heavier, unfamiliar. It was Rob’s voice. He pressed his fingers to his throat in shock.  

Dr. Hank smirked. “Good. And how old are you?”  

Silas hesitated. He knew the answer. He had rehearsed it for weeks. But now, with the strange weight of the voice coming out of his mouth, it felt disturbingly real. “I’m twenty-six.”  

Dr. Hank nodded and turned to Rob. “And you? What’s your name?”  

Rob swallowed hard. A shiver of anticipation ran through him. “Silas Maddox,” he said, and his heart nearly stopped. His voice—Silas’s voice—was smooth, confident, effortless. He let the words settle in his mouth, repeating them in his head.  

Dr. Hank continued. “How old are you?”  

“Twenty.”  

“And are you the overweight man or the muscular one?”  

Rob almost smiled. “Muscular.”  

The words sent a thrill through him. He glanced at the glass wall, catching sight of Silas in his reflection, and for a moment, it was as if his mind filled in the gaps. The voice, the posture, the way he had been living—He was Silas.  

Silas, however, felt the opposite. Every answer he gave pulled him deeper into a reality he didn’t want to accept. His voice was wrong. His name was wrong. He had been forced to embrace so many parts of Rob’s life already, but this was different. This was intimate. It wasn’t just about acting anymore. It was starting to feel real.  

Later that day, Rob stood in front of the glass wall of the gym again, watching "himself" move in sync. He had loved these sessions before, but now, knowing his voice matched the man in the reflection, it felt perfect. He wasn’t just imagining being Silas anymore—his brain was solidifying it as truth. He grinned as he curled the weights, feeling stronger, more alive. 

But beneath that thrill, a fear lurked. What if, at the end of all this, they took it away? What if he had to go back to being Rob? The thought unsettled him, gnawed at the edges of his excitement. He clenched his jaw, pushing the thought away. 

The next contraption was introduced a few weeks later. The contact lenses sat in two small cases, perfectly clear, almost indistinguishable from ordinary prescription lenses. Dr. Hank explained their purpose, though both men already had a feeling of what was coming.  

Rob picked up his set first, glancing at Silas one last time before carefully placing the lenses in his eyes.

A quick blink, then another—his breath caught. Silas was gone. In his place stood himself—or rather, how his old body looked like. Chubby and hairy.

Rob looked at the mirror and saw Silas’s toned arms, sharp jawline, and athletic stance. Rob’s eyes widened in astonishment. He turned his head slightly, watching “himself” do the same, but from a different angle. His heart pounded in his chest as he raised a hand, watching his "reflection" move in perfect sync. 

He quickly turned his gaze downward to confirm what he feared—and excitement exploded in his chest. His stomach—Silas’s stomach—was flat. No overhang, no soft flesh pressing against his shirt. He reached down and pressed his fingers into his belly and pecs, expecting firmness, expecting definition—  

—but all he felt was flab. 

The illusion wavered just for a second. He could see abs, but beneath his hands, he could feel the soft rolls of his true form. His breath hitched, but rather than disappointment, an intoxicating thrill ran through him. It was almost perfect. Just one more step. 

On the other side of the room, Silas hesitated before slipping in his own lenses. He blinked a few times, forcing himself to look straight at Rob. 

Except it wasn’t Rob anymore.  

It was him. His own face, his own body. Standing over there. Moving in real time.  

A cold wave of nausea hit him.  

He swallowed hard and turned his gaze downward. Panic swelled in his chest. The first thing he saw was Rob’s thick arms. His belly bulged under his shirt, round and unfamiliar. His body looked like Rob’s. But—instinctively—he pressed a hand into his gut. 

His own firm abs were still there.  

For a moment, relief flooded through him. He wasn’t actually trapped. It was all just a trick. His fingers dug in deeper, feeling the muscle underneath. He could feel his real body, even if his eyes told him otherwise. But the sight was suffocating.  

“Excellent,” Dr. Hank said, jotting something down. “Now that you both look the part, there's no need for shared workouts. You can train separately and continue your regimen alone.”  Rob grinned, unable to stop himself from turning back to the mirror. His hands glided over his "abs" again, despite the deception. His mind was already starting to believe it.  

That night, alone in his room, Rob stood before the full-length mirror, peeling off his sweat-dampened shirt. The fabric slid from his skin, revealing the defined lines of his chest and stomach—or rather, Silas’s chest and stomach. He ran his hands over his "chest," brushing over the sculpted pecs he saw. He looked perfect. The only flaw was that he could still feel his real body beneath the surface. 

Despite this, his fingers ghosted over his reflection in the mirror, tracing the sharp definition of his jawline, his broad shoulders. He flexed an arm, watching the muscle shift, tightening with strength that—just weeks ago—he could never have imagined.  

He tilted his head, drinking in the sight of himself. This was who he was now. The body of a man who belonged in the spotlight, on magazine covers, admired by everyone who laid eyes on him. His fingers dragged slowly down his stomach, stopping just above his waistband. His old body—his real body—had been soft, flabby, weak. But now? Now, he was powerful. Now, he could strut into any room and command attention. 

A knock on the door snapped him out of his trance.  

Dr. Hank entered, holding a small case of pills. “This should help reinforce the connection between your mind and body,” he explained. “Rob will feel heavier, as he should be, and you, Silas, will finally feel lighter and stronger.” 

Rob snatched up the pill eagerly, barely hearing the rest of the explanation before swallowing it down. . Silas, however, hesitated. He looked at the grotesque reflection in the mirror—his reflection, bloated and unfamiliar. A deep pit of unease settled in his gut before he finally shoved the pill in his mouth, swallowing hard. 

It didn’t take long for the effects to sink in.  

Rob let out a slow breath as warmth spread through his limbs. His fingers pressed into his stomach again—except this time, there was no flab, no resistance. His body felt tight, compact, efficient. He flexed his arms again, his grin widening as he felt the tension in his biceps, the solid weight of strength coursing through him.  

He turned back to the mirror, running his hands over his chest, over his stomach, up to his shoulders, reveling in every single inch of his sculpted frame.  

“Oh yeah,” he murmured to himself, tilting his head, shifting his stance just slightly to emphasize his best angles. He threw a few casual poses, watching the light dance across the definition of his abs. Every movement felt fluid, natural. He had become Silas in every way that mattered. 

Then he turned his gaze across the room.  

Silas sat hunched on his bed, staring down at himself with a look of absolute horror. 

His fingers gripped the flesh at his waist—except this time, it moved under his touch. It sagged, the weight pulling in ways that felt unbearable. His whole body felt sluggish, heavy, bloated. His stomach sat on his lap, the subtle bounce of soft fat foreign and horrifying. He clenched his fists, resisting the overwhelming urge to scream.  

His breath turned shallow.  

This wasn’t a trick anymore. The lenses made him see it, but now? Now, he felt it. 

His gut clenched as he slowly raised his gaze toward the mirror.  

Across from him, Rob smirked, basking in the glory of his—Silas’s—body, flexing without a care in the world. Silas’s stomach twisted as he watched the man move, admire himself, preen like he had earned that body.  

Rob turned slightly to the side, taking in his reflection from another angle, running a hand through his hair before meeting Silas’s gaze in the mirror. He caught the flicker of envy in Silas’s expression—raw, unfiltered resentment. 

And he loved it.  

He let his smirk widen as he stretched his arms above his head, exaggerating the movement, rolling his shoulders just to feel the strength radiating from his muscles.  

"Man," he sighed, dragging his hands down his torso again, relishing every inch. "I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this."  

Silas gritted his teeth, his hands tightening into fists.  

Rob turned to him, eyes gleaming. “How’s it feel?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. 

Silas didn’t answer. He refused to give Rob the satisfaction.  

But that smirk—that knowing, arrogant smirk—never left Rob’s face.  

He stretched again, yawned, then gave one last glance at his reflection, dragging his fingers across his stomach one final time before heading to bed.  

Silas, however, had trouble sleeping that night. He sat in front of the mirror, trapped in the body he once mocked, his own physique stolen by the very man who didn’t deserve it. Eventually, he got tired and fell asleep. 

The facility was silent in the dead of night, save for the occasional hum of machinery and the rhythmic beeping of monitors. Silas and Rob lay unconscious in their separate rooms, their breathing steady, their minds deep in drug-induced sleep. The sedation had been precise—calibrated to ensure that neither man would stir as they were carefully transported to the sterile, steel-lined chamber. The walls of the room were lined with machinery that pulsed with an eerie blue glow, their function known only to those who worked under Dr. Hank’s meticulous guidance.  

In the center of the room stood two massive pods, each one large enough to contain a full-grown man. Their curved glass surfaces were clouded with condensation, hiding the intricate network of wires, tubes, and electrodes that snaked along the interior. 

Dr. Hank observed as his team worked in practiced efficiency, preparing for the final phase of the experiment. He approached the control panel, his fingers dancing over the buttons before gripping the lever.  

“This is it,” he murmured, almost to himself.  

He pulled the lever.  

The hum of the machines deepened into a low, resonant vibration. The pods lit up from within, a blinding white light flooding the room as energy surged through the complex system. Inside, the bodies of Silas and Rob twitched involuntarily, muscles seizing as the technology did its work.  

The process took mere minutes.  

When the glow finally dimmed, the pods hissed as they depressurized. The lids slowly lifted, revealing the men inside.  

Where Silas had been placed, Rob’s body now lay still. 

Where Rob had been placed, Silas’ body now remained. 

It was seamless—perfect. Every detail, down to the finest fingerprint, had transferred flawlessly. The bodies had been switched completely.  

Dr. Hank leaned in, inspecting them closely.  

"Turn off the necklace and the lenses," he instructed.  

A technician complied, pressing a button on a nearby console. The faint energy signatures that had once manipulated their senses flickered out.  

Neither man would notice.  

When they woke up, they would feel exactly the same.  

And that was the true brilliance of it all.

The morning light filtered through the blinds as the new Silas stirred awake, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. Immediately, something felt different—better. He felt light. He felt strong. Ultimately, it felt right. 

He sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, and as he moved, his body responded with a sharpness he had never known before. There was no sluggishness, no resistance, no weight dragging him down. His muscles felt compact, efficient, ready to move. A slow smile spread across his lips as he ran his hands over his stomach, reveling in the tightness of his abs, the firmness of his chest. It felt real now—undeniably real. 

Standing up, he took a few steps toward the full-length mirror, his breath hitching as his reflection greeted him. Silas.  

He turned slightly, rolling his shoulders, flexing his arms just to feel them move. A rush of warmth spread through his chest. This was his body now. He felt like he was really Silas. 

On the other side of the facility, the new Rob groaned as he woke up, the simple act of rolling over suddenly feeling off. His limbs felt heavy, his movements slower, less responsive. He furrowed his brows, shifting onto his back and blinking up at the ceiling. Something wasn't right. 

Sitting up took effort—too much effort.  

His breath caught as his stomach pooled in his lap, the weight of it unfamiliar, foreign. His fingers dug into the soft flesh at his sides, and a wave of unease rolled through him. The pill must still be working, he told himself. The effects will wear off soon.  

Dragging himself out of bed, he made his way to the mirror, bracing himself before glancing at his reflection. His breath hitched. He saw Rob. 

No. That’s himself, he told himself. 

He frowned, running a hand through his hair. He was still getting used to seeing himself like this, but now, it felt real. The weight on his body, the sluggishness in his movements—it was all too much.  

Before either man could dwell on it further, Dr. Hank’s voice crackled through the intercom.  

Gentlemen, report to the main room. They arrived at the usual session, sitting across from each other as Dr. Hank regarded them with a pleased expression.  

“We’ve made some advancements,” Dr. Hank began. “To further reinforce your new realities, we’ve integrated AI into your devices. From now on, when you look into a camera, the camera will see yourselves—as you should.” Though in reality, there was no AI added. The truth is, they just completely swapped bodies.  

Silas—the new Silas—felt a rush of excitement as he grabbed his phone and opened the selfie camera.  

There he was.  

The sharp jawline. The clear skin. The perfect physique.

He turned his head, testing the angles. His reflection followed flawlessly, every movement natural.  

He had no reason to doubt it. He didn’t need Silas to take photos and videos for him anymore. 

Rob—the new Rob—hesitated before doing the same. His stomach twisted as he raised his phone and stared at the image on the screen.  

His lips pressed into a thin line. The AI was too good. The way it moved, the way the light caught his features—it was as if he were really looking at himself in the mirror. 

His grip on the phone tightened.  

“Everything you see, everything you feel, is a result of our process working exactly as it should,” Dr. Hank said smoothly. “You are exactly where you’re supposed to be.”  

Neither of them questioned it.  

The day continued as usual. Their meals were switched—Silas enjoying his healthy protein-heavy diet while Rob choked down the carb-heavy, high-calorie meals he had once despised.  

At the gym, Silas—the old Rob—felt the rush of strength surge through him as he lifted the weights effortlessly. His body responded with power, precision. Each curl, each press, each motion was a testament to the reality he had embraced.

Across from him, Rob—the old Silas—was struggling.  

The weights that used to feel light now burned in his arms. His breath came heavier, his movements slower. He watched as the new Silas worked out with ease, flexing in front of the mirror, admiring his own reflection.  

The new Rob gritted his teeth. He hated how it felt. How natural it was beginning to seem. Not only that, he can smell his own musk. The old musk of Rob which is now his own. 

He wanted to believe this was just a trick—just the pills, the lenses, the AI.  But with every movement, every step, every moment…  The truth settled deeper into his bones.  And neither of them knew.

The final phase had arrived.  

Dr. Hank stood before them, his expression unreadable as he clasped his hands behind his back. Silas and Rob sat across from him, the weight of the moment pressing down on them.  

“For the next six months,” Dr. Hank said smoothly, “you will be living as each other in the real world. No more controlled environments, no more structured drills. You will be immersed completely.”  

The old Silas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “But… we haven’t actually swapped bodies.” His voice, now permanently sounding like Rob’s, was filled with doubt. “How the hell are we supposed to pull this off?”  

The old Rob, in contrast, leaned forward eagerly. “Yeah, I mean… I know we’ve got the AI, the lenses, the pills, and all that, but outside, how do we make sure people don’t see the truth?”  

Dr. Hank gave a slow, knowing smile. “That’s already been taken care of. All necessary arrangements have been made.”  

Silas frowned. “Arrangements?”  

Dr. Hank didn’t elaborate. Instead, he motioned to the assistant standing by the door. “Before you go, we have one last exercise.”  

The old Silas’s stomach churned as the familiar process began once again. The final drill.  

Dr. Hank turned to the new Rob first. “What’s your name?”  

The old Silas clenched his fists but forced himself to answer. “Rob Whitmore.”  

“How old are you?”  

“Twenty-six.”  

Dr. Hank’s smirk widened. "And tell me, Rob, between you two, are you the fit man or the overweight man?"  

The new Rob exhaled sharply through his nose. His instinct was to scoff, to argue, but he caught himself. That wasn’t what Rob would do. That wasn’t what he was supposed to do anymore. "I… I’m the overweight one," he admitted, his voice quieter than before. 

Dr. Hank nodded approvingly before turning to Rob. “And you?”  

Rob grinned. “I’m Silas Maddox.”  

“How old are you?”  

“Twenty”  

“And are you the overweight man or the muscular one?”  

The new Silas smiled. “Muscular.”  

Dr. Hank’s gaze flickered between them, and then he continued, pressing deeper into their identities. Childhood memories. Family histories. Personal quirks. Every answer solidified the transformation, reinforcing who they had become.  

Silas relished every moment, answering with enthusiasm, loving the power of fully stepping into Silas’s life. He stole glances at the reflection of his body in the glass, flexing slightly when he thought no one was looking.  

Rob, on the other hand, responded reluctantly, hating every second of it. Each answer felt like another nail in the coffin of his old self, trapping him further in this deception.  

By the end of the session, Rob felt hollow. Silas, however, felt exhilarated.  

“Good,” Dr. Hank finally said, pleased. “You’re ready.”  

The men were escorted out of the facility and sent on their way.  

Silas stepped into the world, meeting his "friends" and "family." They greeted him warmly, embracing him, laughing with him as if he had always been Silas. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing—only acceptance. 

Rob arrived at his "home." Everything about it felt familiar even though it shouldn't be. Then everyone he met—his coworkers, his neighbors—treated him exactly as they would Rob. 

Both men felt a deep, unsettling shock.  

How was this possible?  The world saw them exactly as they saw themselves. And they had no idea that it wasn’t just perception anymore.

Six months passed.  

Silas thrived. He had embraced his new body, his new life, and everything that came with it. Every morning, he woke up feeling strong, powerful, and confident. The gym had become his second home, a place where he sculpted his already perfect physique and basked in the admiration of others. He had even landed a few acting gigs—something the old Silas had always struggled to achieve.  

It was as if fate had corrected a mistake.  

He wasn’t just living as Silas; he was excelling at it.  

Meanwhile, Rob endured each day with growing frustration. He hated the way his body felt—heavy, sluggish, uncooperative. The workouts that had once been second nature were now grueling, humiliating tasks, and soon, he gave up on them entirely. Instead, he found comfort in food and video games, settling into the life he had been given, biding his time until the swap was reversed.  

Because it would be reversed.  

…Wouldn’t it?  

The thought nagged at him more and more as the months passed. He had been counting down the days, waiting for Dr. Hank’s call, waiting for the experiment to end.  

Then, one evening, the call finally came.  

Both men were summoned back to the facility. Silas arrived in a crisp, well-fitted shirt that accentuated his muscular build, his presence commanding the room effortlessly.

Rob, in contrast, arrived in loose, comfortable clothes that did little to hide his weight gain, his expression filled with equal parts relief and desperation. 

Dr. Hank greeted them with his usual composed demeanor. “Gentlemen, congratulations. The study has concluded.”  

Rob exhaled sharply, shoulders relaxing. “Finally. So, we swap back now?”  

Dr. Hank smiled, tilting his head. “That was never part of the agreement.”  

A silence heavier than anything they had experienced before settled over the room.  

Rob’s stomach twisted. “What?”  

“The process was designed to be entirely reversible,” Dr. Hank clarified, his voice infuriatingly calm. “But I never promised that it would be reversed.”  

Silas said nothing. He simply stared at Dr. Hank, his expression unreadable.  

Rob shot Silas a pleading look. “You want to switch back… right?”  

Silas met his gaze, and for the first time in six months, Rob saw something in his eyes that made his stomach drop.  

“No.”  

Silas didn’t want to switch back.  

He had won.  

Panic surged through Rob. “No. No, no, no. You can’t just—”  

Rob removed his contacts and yanked his necklace but everything looked and sounded the same. When he looked at Silas, he still saw a muscular and handsome man there. 

“Dr. Hank already told me that the contacts and necklaces were off months ago.” Silas said. 

Dr. Hank simply gestured to the door. “You’re free to go.”  

Silas left without hesitation, stepping back into his perfect life without a single glance backward.  

Rob remained frozen, his world collapsing around him.  

And when he finally stumbled out of the facility, no one—not his coworkers, not his friends, not the world—would ever believe that he had once been someone else. Not that he could, given his non-disclosure agreement.

The End. 

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Here’s a thought I yapped about to someone on Discord:

“Was having shower thoughts about how the whole idea of “having sex to feel something” idea that used to be popular with killer could actually fit color a lot more.

Like, post-void but before meeting killer-color.

And like, he does it impulsively when his world feels too dark and consuming, or back when he didn’t think the voices of the souls in head were actually real, whenever one of them spoke and made him think he was back in the void, he’d impulsively go find someone to sleep with just to either brighten his world again, feel something, or shut the souls up.

Probably sleeping with Grillby’s, underfell sanses. And Asgore’s too, because Asgore’s are triggers for most of the souls, and it makes them go quiet and he doesn’t remember most of his time with Asgore’s afterwards, but so long as it’s quiet.

And like, he’s not sexually attracted to any of them, he’s doing it to both cope and self harm. But the hypersensitivity of his body causes him to cry a lot which relives tension and stress, but also his body is always in pain (edit: and exhaused and drained, probably would have panic attacks afterwards if it weren’t so tired) afterwards, which means lots of colors to see—even if he hates how he let strangers he doesn’t know touch him and makes him hate his body even more; on top of the voices of Justice and Integrity criticizing him.

Maybe also he can’t help himself but to think about them and their feelings, if they feel used or not, and he tries to like..cut off his own empathy, so he doesn’t have to feel their pain on top of his too.

And I don’t know, maybe it leads to a friends with benefits situation with aroallo Delta, cause at least then it was with someone color trusts and knows—and delta doesn’t have to worry himself sick wondering if colors going to be coming back to the apartment or not. They call it off eventually of course, but maybe color doesn’t want to talk about it.

And I don’t know, maybe Color used to hookup at a bar where a Lust Sans worked and that’s how they met? And maybe Lust is the reason Color stopped.

I don’t know. Maybe Lust finds Color somewhere crying, bruised and dirty and his clothes are messed up, but it’s actually Bravery who just had Color fight off an Asgore because it thought Color was being attacked and it was going to die again. And Lust takes care of the kiddo even if he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

Color not being a responsible adult or caring about himself and his body because he didn’t expect to survive, didn’t want to live, and definitely didn’t want to be “stuck” with voices in his head and kids in his body telling him what to do.”

I’m not quite sure about this one—because i believe Color is more likely to turn to other unhealthy, impulsive habits before turning to sex—such as binge eating, impulsive buying and spending, or chasing adrenaline highs by putting himself in or allowing himself to be lead into dangerous situations by/with dangerous people—but it’s a thought.

Especially since it causes the most distress and pain, to keep him both in the present and out of his own head—to keep everything bright and not back there—due to his physical hypersensitivity, pain-to-color, heightened senses, and although he refuses to acknowledge or admit it yet—the triggering memories of the souls.

Also, man’s so kind he probably leaves all his one night stands a water bottle and a painkiller for when they wake up.

Color feels so bad after a one stand he just starts leaving his partners a water bottle/glass of water and a painkiller with a note on their bedside tables if they were also drunk too. He never stays until the morning or when they wake up though.

Asgore’s are harder to be kinder too for some reason, as if some part of him starts hiding and moving away (from Asgore) and reaching for empathy or kindness for them is a lot harder to do—but he makes himself do it anyway.

[ranticore]

visored longwing harpies & the hall of faces

I did say there was no exclusive global culture on Siren shared by humans of a certain body type, and I lied, because there is One.

The early settlers on Siren were the unaltered human workforce of a certain megacorporation. While an almost unlimited budget was poured into the dodgy gene programs, since that was why they chose to settle a planet so far out of the reach of The Authorities, everything else was done pretty cheaply, including the settling itself. In order to map out their new home planet, incredibly cheap mass-produced aircraft were used by pilots. These aircraft could be made quickly and easily at the settlement site because they lacked a flight computer or any real sensors - or any equipment at all in the cockpit. Rather than a multitude of different equipment loadouts on an aircraft that would take time and effort to swap out or maintain, the pilots instead used these visors which were universally compatible with the one-size-fits-all aircraft. It's kind of like how it's easier to just carry a phone around with a calculator app than it is to carry a phone and a calculator, even if the phone app calculator experience sucks by comparison.

The visors were the real expensive kit, each custom built to a pilot's exact needs and flight style, and they were built to last. the aircraft fell apart in the following centuries but the visors remained, hyperlight plastic powered by the planet's native star, and something interesting happened. The remains of the first settlement were largely inaccessible to anyone but longwing harpies, and these harpies had the right head shape to fit the visors. Many of the pilots had filled their visors with video and photo files from home, from Earth, like a worker decorating his cubicle with photos of his family. Some had been decorated on the outside, as well, resembling birds. The harpies that found the visors obviously tried to use them. They found themselves experiencing visions of strange worlds, recordings of long-dead pilots and ATC, and found that each visor can interface with every other one, no matter how far apart. Each visor came with its own callsign, its own name, which has remained for thousands of years - and because of this, each visor is considered by the cultures of Siren to be a named character with a distinct personality (eg. the swan visor was cygnus2, it is known now as Signastoo)

I keep posting the map and it needs to be redrawn but essentially every red triangle is an ancient telecomm tower. These became the only remaining waypoints on the visors' HUD and mapping software, meaning that 1. a true global culture could emerge, with longwings gathering at these sites, and 2. visored longwings became the gold standard for navigation on Siren. In a world that is basically just water, that's a big deal.

There exist only a few thousand visors (about 3k I'd say). The unused visors are kept in the Hall of Faces, the ancient aviation bay at the first settlement in West. Because of how water levels and land structures have changed over the years, this building exists on a mesa that rises another few thousand feet out of the water, with sheer sides, and is utterly inaccessible to anyone but a longwing harpy. When a visored harpy dies, the visor is returned here. If you want to claim a visor, you need to hold an interview with one of the elders at the site, who will test you rigorously to see if you can inhabit the character of one of the visors. If not, too bad. If you do get it, it's yours until either you die or you do something considered 'out of character' for the wearer of that particular visor. It is DEEPLY discouraged to steal a visor off anyone because it would be largely impossible, given how they all can communicate (imagine a gigantic worldwide discord server where the location & name of every person is known at all times... the drama is likely insane but at least if someone steals a visor, everyone will know about it)

not every longwing desires a visor because it comes with a lot of responsibility alongside its automatic prestige, and you can't really give it up once you have it. also there's always the possibility of being diagnosed with a super annoying, glitchy, or hated visor character lol. but among the roughly 2700 visored harpies on Siren there does exist a global culture exclusive to them. they chat to one another long-distance, engage in closed-practice ceremonies where they all get high and look at videos of Earth, and essentially become a class outside the mundanity of normal life on Siren. to the rest of the population, they basically become telepathic wizards

Terwyef's visor (first pic) is called Scrappercharlee and is one of the more common models, tho it has been decorated over the years with extra bits. Scrappercharlee is a bit busted and half the HUD is missing. Miakef's visor (second pic) Signastoo is one of the very fancy and well-known ones, it's shaped like a swan's head and likely belonged to a high-ranking pilot who could afford a bit of frippery and showmanship back in the day. Birds do not exist on Siren and harpies are mammals so the swan itself is symbolically meaningless, but the bird-style visors introduce the idea of 'a bird' in the abstract, and this has been imbued with its own form of meaning by harpies.

[goat-guy-tm]

I was talking about deep analysis of Curly and Jimmy's dynamic in my discord server (which you should join), and I thought "Hey! Maybe tumblr would like this!" So, here this is! It's a rough copy paste of what I said, edited slightly to fit better in a post format:

Also long post warning.

I feel like because a lot of ppl haven't experience people like Jimmy irl they have a hard time understanding why Curly acts the way he does, and by no means is it still 100% okay, but when you know someone that's been mentally manipulating you for years if can become easy to be tunnel visioned to they pain they cause others. I think a big example of that is when Anya shows concern over Jimmy's last psych evaluation but when Curly does it Jimmy (from the little text we get about it) tells him it was just all jokes, which could have been, but when it's just Jimmy and Curly it's much lighter in perspective, because Curly believes him, and Curly sees no reason for Jimmy to lie to him about his mental state (which he obviously was doing as he has quite the psychotic break a few days later)

Not to mention, Jimmy gets quite aggressive at Curly when he notices that Curly is rethinking his career. He activly calls him horrible things for 'not appreciating his position and wanting something new' (<not direct words but overview), when if Jimmy was a good friend he would have been talking about it with Curly. Instead he shames Curly for it, that in Jimmy's mind it's unfair for Curly to not be happy cause Curly has a better seat than him, but he'll frame it as them, the whole crew, to make Curly feel bad about it.

Like, when the rest of the crew learned they were going to be let go after that haul, none of them were really mad at Curly for him being the only one to be given a recommendation and compensation. Yeah Anya and Swansea are upset about it, but only Jimmy is the one to call out Curly for being the only one to relieve special treatment, when it's pretty established Curly is/was one of Pony Expresses' best pilots. But Jimmy doesn't talk about himself during the party. Swansea mentions how unfair it is that PE is throwing them to the side after all these years, Anya almost has a panic attack over not having any money in savings, Daisuke isn't really phased since he's only an intern, but Jimmy gets mad at CURLY, not Pony Express. He even full on calls it Curly running away, as if Pone Express closing them down is Curly's fault for wanting something different for his life

I mean what's wild to me is I'm p sure Curly even has a conversation with Jimmy in the game about how he hasn't been handed anything and has been working hard for where he is. Curly never out right really says it, but he does make mention of both of them working hard. Then again Curly doesn't talk about himself a lot even in conversation (minus the "on the edge of a bridge with your feet in the cememnt" one cause Jimmy made it about him)

When going back through the playthrough, I realized Jimmy is such a well written villian because he convinces even Curly that Curly is the villian here, the one in the wrong. Curly isn't perfect, he is quite literally the imperfect victim, but Jimmy is such a big manipulator that he convinces Curly it's HIS fault all this is happening, that Curly needs JIMMY so that he can fix all this, only for Curly to realizes what Jimmy's been doing when he finds Jimmy curled up outside the cockpit with a ship wide system failure blaring.

Buddy Corl: "Hey, just an idea, would Jimmy keep Anya alive so that Curly can stay alive? He berates her medical expertise but never elects to care for Curly beyond feeding him pills."

I'd say 50/50. A big thing is Jimmy quite obviously doesn't view Anya as a person, or at the very least views her as bottom of the barrel useless, but after the crash and with Curly how he was, there was no way he'd be able to do it and survive, because the entire time Swansea has the axe and Jimmy even recognizes that if he steps out of line too far within the lines of "I'm captian so I say so", then Swansea would basically usurp him. His own personal caring for Curly was most likely to keep him suffering. He voted on keeping Curly alive, and unless he was just trying to blend in with the others, then he did it because he wanted to keep Curly suffering.

Friend Corl again: "There was a Tumblr post that claimed the hands of the others were missing (the overview angle of Curly on the table was used as evidence) but this could just be the angle of the scene itself as he was going to die shortly after."

Hm, it could have been either the angle, a rendering choice from the devs or Jimmy could have cut their hands off. Idk why he would only go for the hands though, since he seems to show full intrest in cannablism. But you could chalk it up to a concept of keeping them from being able to do anything. Yes they are dead but Jimmy is far gone enough to believe that cutting their hands off could still make him better because they can't do anything to change what he's done.

Anyways that's it! For some context on why this is so important to me, from elementary school to the end of middle school I had a 'friend' that I was extremely close with. She was a horrible person who mentally, emotionally and physically tortured me for years, but since I was a child I never saw anything wrong with it. I would even rush to her defense when people would point out to me that what she was doing was bad. Now a days I hate her, and I love to talk shit about her, but I think a lot of people don't fully take in Curly's actions because they haven't gone through that (and they shouldn't, mind you).

I feel for Curly a lot, because I see myself in him in how he tries so desperately to protect someone he didn't even realize was killing him. Curly isn't perfect, and believe me I wasn't perfect when I was friends with her. She made me act out against people to gain her approval, she made me bitter and mean to others, do things I would never do. Very few people acknowledge what an over powering manipulator that has been controlling you for years can do to a person.

[dpocparadeevent]

Welcome to the Parade!

What is the DP OC Parade event? The DP OC Parade event is an event built specifically around Original Characters made by artists in the Phandom from their love to the show! We know how few of them there are, but hopefully with this event we can spark the imaginations of the talented artists of this community to create characters of their very own!

How does it work? Follow the daily prompts for the week and use the tag DP OC Parade or DP OC Parade Event (with or without the year is fine) and this blog will repost your submission should they be fitting of the rules of the event (see below). These prompts will change from year to year, as this is year 1 we are just testing the waters.

Does the event have a Discord server? Yes we do! Join here: https://discord.gg/jfeuZebcHV

What OCs are accepted into this event? Specifically we're looking for Danny Phantom related OCs, but you may also enter other characters you have created that would fit within the realm of Danny Phantom too! These characters can be ghosts, citizens of Amity Park, self-inserts, anything really! As long as if you were to drop the characters into the show nobody would bat an eye then they're good to go!

Can I use multiple characters for this event? As this is the first time this event is taking place, no. The first and last prompts of this event is meant so you introduce your character and at the end of the event other artists may use that first prompt to pick from any submissions into this event. HOWEVER this rule may change next year depending on how many people may join.

I don't have an OC yet, can I make one and join? Of course! Your character doesn't need to be fully fleshed out before joining this event, they can just be a goofy little blob that needs further development. Maybe this event will get you to want to make more art with them or make them into a more fleshed out character? This event isn't made just for people who have OCs, we want people in this community to make even MORE of them!

Can I draw someone else's OC from outside of the event for the final prompt? No, the last prompt is strictly for participants within this event, this rule may change next year but for now please keep that last prompt solely for those in this event ONLY. You can find OCs to use from the event by searching for the event tag or looking through this blog.

Rules

As with any event, they come with rules, don't let Walker catch you breaking them!

No AI-generated images will be accepted in this event, this event does not approve of AI 'art' and any submissions to the event will not be put through.

Please use YOUR OWN OC in this event and not your friends, this rule may change later but currently we'd prefer it if people made/used their own characters in this event, it's to share your characters. If your friend would like to have their characters used in this event they're welcome to participate. Artists of all skill levels are accepted! ^^

Do not insult or negatively compare anybody else's OC's, these guys were made out of love for the show, we shouldn't be putting down any artist's creations.

Do not make art of any OCs that the creator would not approve of (gore, squicks etc), the last prompt is to draw someone else's OC, don't draw anything someone wouldn't want their character to be in.

No problematic-ship next-gen OCs, I'm talking MinorxAdult / Incest kids etc, ghost fusions are fine.

Do not harass other participants to draw art of your characters for the final prompt, this event isn't just so you can get free art of your OC, it's meant to help you build on your character and appreciate other people's creativity.

If you agree with these rules, in your Introduction post please add the passphrase "Blorbo" at the end of your post, this will let us know you've read the rules and are willing to abide by them.

[refinedpet]

Heck it, I'll make a proper pinned

Salutations! Hello! My name is Ashley, your likely not so local, lesbian, early twenties, beautiful trans girlthing with undiagnosed mental problems.

I usually post about Trans stuff, as helping other transfems in any way I can is important to me.

I also post about whatever else is on my mind, I don't really have much of a filter. Usually expect stuff about Video Games.

I also don't hesitate to reblog horny stuff, and I'm a kinky bitch so that filter doesn't exist. Usually not anything with nudity, but no promises. This Blog is 18+ Only.

My old pinned was my award winning post

It makes a great vibe check and did a phenomenal job scaring away chasers. Watch if if you're not a coward

Stuffs I like!!!!:

I play alot of video games, some of my favorite series are Xenoblade Chronicles (This is the quickest way to my heart), Dragon Quest, Pikmin, Fire Emblem (Unfortunate), Kirby, Splatoon, Shin Megami Tensei, Megaman

I love the NeiR series! Fantasy Life and Gnosia are some of my all time favorites.

I've been lifelong way too Pokémon obsessed

I play a wide variety of stuff, and it'd be difficult to name everything. I play a bit of everything but I'm mostly a single player girly and I adore JRPG's.

I used to be more of an anime fan, but don't actively watch new stuff alot. I've seen a ton of anime and read alot of manga.

Stuff like JoJo's Bizzare Adventure, Chainsaw Man, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, The Pet Girl of Sakuraso, Yuru Yuri, Sailor Moon and many more are very important to me.

As said I'm well experienced in anime, and love getting to talk about it with people.

I'm likely to do the occasional horny post, but usually don't reblog or post nudity. Still this Blog is 18+

I'm a kinky bitch, and have spent alot of time in online lewd role play communities. As a result I'm desensitized to alot of it and very casual about things.

I've been called a succubus alot, and have a history of awakening new kinks in people.

If I ever make a NSFW sideblog I'll give more specifics there. But I'm always down to talk with girls (18+) about stuff!

Alright, wrap it up already:

Now, here's a collection of thoughts and things I couldn't be bothered to fit in naturally anywhere.

The tag I use for my original posts is #Ashley.txt if you want to see just them and not the mass of stuff I reblog. For older ones I used #skyla.ramble if you wanna see those. Yes Skyla is not my name anymore, no I'm not changing the tag.

I use #stoned kitten for my high posts

As stated before my name is Ashley! I prefer Ashey as a nickname over Ash. And I encourage people to spell it however they like best. Having some people say Ashy or Ashie is cute! You can call me Ash, but don't call me that exclusively.

I'm a She/Her - It/It's Girly. Those are the ones I fuck with. Referring to me with It/It's is the way to my heart, but I like being called both.

I'm an attention whore

I love Chappell Roan

I meow and bite, don't worry about it

Mutuals are always so incredibly welcome and encouraged to send me a DM or ask for my Discord (that's where I prefer talking)

I love all transfems. No matter what arbitrary reason you have that makes you think you're not enough or worthy of it. All trans people have a space in this community. You are so incredibly important 💖

Okay, I've gone on for more than long enough. I'll add to this if I ever need to

Have some pictures of me to finish off because I'm hot as hell

[beawhatchumean]

IT IS HE!!

back to shimeji making and with the white hons himself

LMK AO LIE SHIMEJI VER 1.0!!

Just click on the big words and ya can download, ye :D Contains 2 zipfiles: The normal version and less frames version

Read down below for explanations on that

if got any problems launching and stuff, dont be afraid to message me, i'll try to help ya out :>

OR you can join my Discord server for easier help (will explain more down in the post)

but as seen in the quick lil poster i made there, it says extra animation + more, more info about that underneath the read 👇

from the top,

EXTRA ANIMATION

like my previous Shimejis, this one has unique frames for each action of the Shimeji. best example is the walk, run, dash actions seen below

there are other actions that have unique frames like these, but that's for you to find out yourself sksks

CUSTOM ACTION NAME

As per usual, some actions are renamed to better fit the character. Here is a guide for what they do:

Fall Over = Ao Lie falls down in a silly way and sits up again

Suprise From Behind = Shimeji breeding 1

Invite In = Shimeji breeding 2

disclaimer, I still have not done the full action guide list but I have listed a few renamed actions in guide.txt for referencing. Stay tune when I finally make that ref list

CUSTOM ACTION

Just like SWK & Mackie, petting is enabled here too!! So pet Ao Lie's little head to your heart's content hehe (credit to Kilkakon for the original script)

ALSO, the pet action is now fully animated!! However, the animation will keep playing even after you're done petting him

as seen in this gif :3

Steps to do this action is as followed:

Make the shimeji sit down (any surface is okay, ie work floor/window top)

Move the cursor to the shimeji's head

Make sure it is a hand cursor and not an arrow cursor

Pet away!!

If you want to pick up the shimeji without prompting the pet action, just move the cursor lower until it turns into the arrow icon

NON-SYMMETRICAL SHIMEJI

Like Macaque, Ao Lie also has non-symmetrical frames. So his collar will always shape a "Y" anywhere he goes!

Same as before, Ao Lie needed much more frames than he needs to get this effect to work. But, it may make some devices lag me thinks. So, there's 2 versions to download. One with symmetry and one without

PLEASE DOWNLOAD THE LESS FRAME VERSION TO NOT FRY YOUR PC'S!!

COLORED SETTINGS

Oh yea one thing I am excited to announce. The settings for the shimeji are now coloured!!

this has been a feature since long ago in the program but there was a bug. But now, it is fixed and now I can customize the colour scheme whenever and whatever I choose so >:3c

If you would like to change the colours yourself, just head into the "Theme" tab and change the colours there.

ALTERED SOME ACTIONS

There are now a few actions that will happen by itself, without you needing to choose in the "Set Behaviour" list.

Like the previous dash action, and now the daggling legs action that can happen when he sits down.

UPDATES WILL HAPPEN!!

Like the rest of my shimejis. UPDATES, UPDATES, UPDATES!! honestly, for Ao Lie I cant think for much updates besides software updates. For features and what not, he probably is going to have the least features update. But if yall have any suggestions, drop me a message or in my discord server

oh yea

I HAVE A DISCORD SERVER NOW!!

So after releasing the Shadowpeach Shimeji, so many people messaged me questions and needing help on how to work the shimeji and other stuff. So far, people only contacted me through dm's on tumblr, instagram, and just using Patreon's comment section.

Honestly, worse way to communicate since some issues I needed pictures and long messages to help out. So, discord server it is. Here's what ya can expect

Shimeji stuff (questions, wips, FAQ, etc)

Alerts on my posts and streams

Space for arts (any arts, not just drawing :>)

Share anything ya want (shitposts, current fixation, info, etc)

Just socialize and make friends :D

Ya can read more info in the rules & directory channel when ya join

So if ya interested, just click the link below

DISCORD SERVER: BEA'S CHILLAX HOLE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

but for now that will be all for ver. 1.0

many thanks to anyone interested in this project and of course

BIGGEST THANKS TO THOSE THAT HELPED BETA TEST THEM

for privacy reason they shall stay anonymous but

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ >:3

PLUS EVEN MORE HEARTS!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

ACCEPT MORE HEARTS HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

okay bye

[marq-lynch]

#Strickpage Strikeout is Here!

It's a Connect 4 Bingo Challenge!

Pick one or more of the four themed StrickPage Bingo cards, and try to create four pieces that connect in any direction. Each card has sixteen spaces, with fifteen prompts and one free space for a wild card.

The WrestleDream card offers softer, more tentative new relationship prompts for a fluffier side or AUs.

The Full Gear card is your classic StrickPage horny violence with lots of vampire undertones.

The Revolution card pulls a lot of weight and no punches, shouldering the angst burden through the All In era.

The All Out card brings us full circle to our modern standing, with a complicated combo of fiery passion and threads ended but untied.

Of course if you get that competitive itch you can always try your hand at a second card. Or even combine prompts from multiple. The truly wild might try for a full card strikeout...

This is not just a fic challenge, and this is a great reminder that AO3 does work as repository both to embed media AND to link out to other sites on third parties.

Mix it and match it up if you want: do a fic drabble one day, a sketch the next, a video edit the third, and round out the last day with a lovely set of memes.

Expanded Cards with Posting Information & Links to TV Tropes Pages Below Read More.

You can add your works, anonymously or not, to the StrickPage StrikeOut AO3 collection beginning Midnight on March 3rd, Pacific Time, remaining open through the end of the month for inevitable 'life happens' straggling.

Please tag your works #StrickPage StrikeOut on social media with a space, and avoid tagging alternative ship name spellings.

We recommend imgbox.com for third party image hosting with ease of embedding and galleries and no sign up required, and Vimeo for the same with videos edits.

There are no real rules to this challenge other than to create StrickPage or Hangman & Swerve relationship fanworks in the spirit of the challenge. Take the cards and make your own challenges.

Please don't hesitate to reach out to me by DM on Tumblr, Discord, or Bsky if you have questions, but really the point of this is just to have fun and create as a fandom! Don't put too much pressure on it.

Card #1 - Wrestledream - (Softer/New Relationship)

Love is a Weakness - Love is regarded as a negative influence.

Cupid's Arrow - Falling in love personified by the love god, Cupid.

Rivalry as Courtship - A romance that stems from two characters' rivalry.

I Didn't Mean to Turn You On - Unintentionally making someone fall in love with you.

Laugh of Love - The tendency to laugh when in the presence of your love interest.

Unresolved Sexual Tension - Two characters are obviously attracted to each other, but they never act on their feelings.

Inconvenient Attraction - A character falls in love when they'd rather not.

No Challenge = No Satisfaction - I'm only happy when there's a challenge!

How Dad Met Mom - Come around, kids, this is the story of how your father and I fell in love.

Puppy Love - Romance between pre-pubescent children. [Note: This is on the list because of Swerve's famous playlist choice to include 'Awaken, My Love' for the Deathmatch, which includes the line 'So This isn't just Puppy Love'. Like all prompts on these cards, interpret as you see fit.]

Love at First Punch - Falling in love with somebody who beat you up.

Forgotten First Meeting - Forgetting that you first met your love interest long ago.

Best Her to Bed Her - A man must defeat a strong woman in combat if he wishes to romance her.

Crazy in the Head, Crazy in the Bed - A character is eccentric or outright insane, which makes them more appealing in the romantic and sexual sense.

Card #2 - Full Gear - (Violently Horny Vampire Vibes)

Stalker with a Crush - A character who follows the person they're in love with everywhere.

Stalker without a Crush - Whose obsession is unrelated to romantic or sexual feelings.

Too Much Alike - When applied to romantic relationships (or, less commonly, friendships). Two people break apart because they're too similar to each other; their shared traits clash and/or they have the same traits they don't like in themselves.

It's Personal - It sure is. You hurt someone dear to me. Now I'm gonna fucking kill you!

In Love with Your Carnage - A villainous or morally ambiguous character falls for someone because of their violent tendencies.

Breaking and Bloodsucking - Vampires break into bedrooms to attack women.

Hemo Erotic - A fetish for biting and drinking blood.

Must Be Invited - A supernatural creature cannot enter a dwelling without permission from the homeowners.

Yandere - They're so in love with somebody that they'll murder anybody who stands in their way.

Yandere Couple - Two people driven murderous with love end up together.

Combat Sadomasochist - Someone who enjoys both inflicting harm on (and also receiving harm from) other people.

I Hate You, Vampire Dad - Hating someone who turned you into a monster.

It's Not You, It's My Enemies - Being with your lover puts them in harm's way.

Consuming Passion - Cannibalism with sexy undertones.

Red String of Fate - Two characters are bound by fate to be together.

Arch-Enemy - The main villain of the story is usually (though not necessarily always) the primary nemesis of the main hero.

Interplay of Sex and Violence - Violence and sex happening around the same time as each other, or even using violence as foreplay.

Card #3 - Revolution Through All In - (Angst Vibes)

Came Back with a Vengeance - You ruined my life and sent me away to rot in exile, but I'm back with new skills, a new identity, and a meticulous plan to destroy everything you love.

The Mistress - A woman whom a married man cheats on his wife with.

I Gave My Word - May indicate Honor Before Reason.

Wanting Is Better Than Having - Once you've gotten all that you've wanted, life becomes boring and unrewarding.

Career Versus Man - A woman must give up her career if she gets married.

Awful Wedded Life - An unhappy and dreary marriage.

Reformed, but Rejected - A villain seeking redemption finds that no one trusts them.

Daddy Had a Good Reason for Abandoning You - A parent gives an excuse for why they left their child.

Descent into Addiction - A character's story arc involves them becoming dependent on a substance.

Am I Just a Toy to You? - A character confronts the other about how serious they think their relationship is.

Motive Decay - A villain gradually discards the reasons why they became evil in the first place, either losing their sympathy if they keep at it or give up their villainy after no longer caring about their Freudian Excuse

The Perils of Being the Best - Being The Ace has many prices to pay.

Success As Revenge - The best way to repay you for what you've done to me is by living a good life while you end up being miserable.

Accomplice by Inaction - You did nothing to save me from injustice even though you could. Therefore, I'm gonna end you!

Off the Wagon - A recovering alcoholic starts drinking again.

Card #4 - All Out - (Burning Romance)

Rationalizing the Overkill - My revenge ended up going too far/causing collateral damage, but it was well worth it!

Devoted to You - A character who inspires obsessive devotion in those around them.

Victory Is Boring - A character succeeds, but doesn't know what to do afterwards.

Destructive Romance - A deeply unhappy and dysfunctional romantic relationship (sometimes to the point of being abusive).

Fate Drives Us Together - If two people keep encountering each other, it means they're meant to be together.

Ignored Epiphany - A villain considers redeeming themselves, then decides not to.

Loving a Shadow - Falling in love with the ideal of someone rather than the actual person.

Vengeance Feels Empty - I've successfully gotten my revenge... now I have no idea what to do.

Fully-Embraced Fiend - Someone turned into a vampire decides to embrace their transformation rather than fight it.

Grand Romantic Gesture - A big, elaborate event done for someone to show your love for them.

Conducting the Carnage - So what if the world is ending? I'm just going to stand here and move my hands like a conductor. Whatever.

He Who Fights Monsters - Because of my goal for revenge, I've become just like the bastard who harassed me. Good.

Fanatical Fire - YOU SHALL BURN!!!!

Flames of Love - Fire represents the passion in a relationship.

Burn Baby Burn - Destroying something with fire for a dramatic disposal.

[mrghostrat]

Haven’t been on tumblr in a long time.. I remember your streamer au, but nothing more. Id appreciate a small recap! :3

HII! for anyone who hasn't read it, it's a very slice-of-life collection of scenes for the most part, so there's loads of lil scenes i'll leave out of this. but here's a look back at the overall friends-to-lovers plot!

and they were streamers (10/16) (unfinished wip)

aziraphale and crowley are full time twitch streamers who live together in a london townhouse. crowley streams whatever he wants, usually toxic pvp games and "just chatting" hanging out and drinking. aziraphale streams all kinds of wholesome crafty content, such as cooking, baking, reading, and book binding.

crowley has been in love with aziraphale since... god, far too long. he'll never say anything because he knows aziraphale only sees him as a friend

aziraphale is bombarded with a hate raid during pride month, and is severely ill-equipped to moderate it himself. crowley jumps in to shut it down and fix his security settings to protect him further.

aziraphale brings crowley a cup of tea one stream (standing off-camera) when he's heavily focused on a game. he startles at the sudden presence, shouting "angel" accidentally for everyone to hear. aziraphale doesn't mind, but the chat go nuts speculating over the pet name and his relationship with his roommate

furfur, a sub-par streamer and tea-spill investigator, notes a connection on twitter between this "angel" and and old stream clip where crowley is caught ranting and rambling (very smittenly) about an "angel" in his life.

aziraphale's chat starts to wonder about the fondness between him and his elusive off-screen roommate

crowley posts in aziraphale's chat asking if he can have a bite of what he's cooking. he goes to the kitchen to try some, but the chat is too distracted freaking out that the notorious crowley is watching an aziraphale stream to realise aziraphale has actually handed a plate off camera. aziraphale seems troubled when he notices the chat is so beserk, so crowley makes a secret side account to send him a donation and tell him to keep up the good work

aziraphale comes home to find crowley in a discord call, playing party games with anathema, newt, and nina. he settles in beside him on the couch to join in.

crowley surprises aziraphale by raiding him at the end of his stream. he uses his 3,000 viewers to ask if aziraphale plans on going to a twitch meet-up in edinburgh. when crowley finally asks himself, aziraphale says yes.

the dark council, a huge and popular UK twitch team, tweets their curiosity about crowley's elusive roommate, wanting anyone with sleuthing abilities to spill the tea for them.

shaxx encourages furfur to investigate his theory that aziraphale and crowley live together, wanting him to impress the dark council twitch team to grow both their streams.

aziraphale and crowley drive to edinburgh together, playing games in the car, answering questions on twitter, and have a tense conversation on what to do if you harbour a secret crush. aziraphale thinks you should go for grand gestures, but crowley thinks it's best to bottle things up.

they attend the meet-up at a packed pub. crowley introduces aziraphale to beelzebub and promises to stick by his side, but as the drinks start flowing, they both get more comfortable to mill around and socialise on their own.

furfur, hired as the photographer for the event, arrives only after crowley and aziraphale separate from one another. but at the end of the night, gets a photo of them leaving the pub together in a drunken giggle fit, looking like smitten lovers. shaxx and furfur speculate they might be more than just roommates.

back in london, aziraphale makes plans for his holiday fundraiser stream. his viewers suggest a "roommate reveal" for £5,000. both he and crowley are flabbergasted that anyone is even slightly interested. furfur rushes to compile a tea spill twitlonger before the fundraiser.

while planning for his christmas events, aziraphale bakes a practise batch of angel cake on stream, crowley's favourite. he jumps up from the couch to eat a slice, accidentally wandering straight onto camera-- spoiling the fundraising surprise, and ruining furfur's tea spill. they're trending on twitter the next day.

aziraphale is hate raided again, but this time the raiders hack into his chat bot. crowley rushes in to reset the bot's data before they can export years of chat logs and sensitive viewer information. when the raid is halted, aziraphale is relieved, then devastated to realise everything has been wiped, until crowley assures him he made a backup of the logs, a la saving his books.

aziraphale finally realises he loves crowley. he's so overcome with affection for him, it starts to freak crowley out. crowley thinks he's getting swept up in the christmas season and is reading into affection that isn't actually there, and aziraphale thinks he's making crowley uncomfortable by upsetting the status quo

aziraphale becoems downtrodden by how closed-off crowley is being, and crowley panics when he realises he hasn't been subtle at all. he promises aziraphale hasn't done anything wrong and that he's just in his own head about their upcoming christmas party with their mods. aziraphale tries to believe him.

[wipbigbang]

2025 International Fanworks Day Mini Bang Schedule & FAQ

Schedule

All times are by 11:59pm PST. Convert time zones.

Writing Begins- January 1st Earliest Posting Of Fic To Platform Of Your Choice- February 1st Regular Posting Of Fic To Platform Of Your Choice- February 7t Bragging Rights Posting Starts- February 15th Bragging Rights Posting Endss- February 22nd

FAQ

What is the WIP Big Bang International Fanworks Day Mini Bang? Good question! This is a Mini Bang with one goal in mind: to clean out your fanfic drafts folder for the fics that were too short to be completed during the main Big Bang (ie, finished works are 7.5K words and under).

Do I need a Livejournal/Dreamwidth/AO3/etc. account to participate? No! You don’t have to have an account on anything to participate, though you will need to have somewhere to post your finished work. Having one or more accounts will help for you to follow what is going on with the bang (we crosspost to Dreamwidth and Tumblr and heavily use our Discord server at the moment), but they are not required to participate. You can always leave comments anonymously or with an opensource ID.

How many fics can I write? We absolutely don’t mind multiple fics! There are no sign-ups for this, as it’s an informal Mini Bang, so as long as it stays under he max word count, you can finish as many fics as you want between January 1st and February 15th.

Will I get emails about the bang? We do not send out any emails for the Mini Bang, as we currently do not keep an updated email list of participants, so we only send individual emails as needed rather than mass emails.

However, email is the fastest way to communicate with the mods. If you have any questions, please do email us! We will do our best to respond quickly.

What do you mean by maximum word count? You don’t have to have a set minimum of your fic to start, so an outlined fic is fine, but it must be under 7,500 words when it’s finished.

Are multi-chapter fics allowed? Yes, multi-chapter fics are allowed, as long as they stay under the maximum word count.

What about fics that are already posted on ao3 in part? Do those qualify for the bang? It's okay if you have posted some of your fic already (you never know when the muse deserts you, after all), we just require you to refrain from posting more until posting begins here. All we ask is that you not post any public updates to the fic until February 7th (a week before posting your bragging rights to Dreamwidth and/or Tumblr starts). We don’t want you to lose kudos and comments so don’t worry about pulling the fic down, just hold off on updates for now.

I see that the fic maximum is 7500 words and that published WIPs are acceptable - but what if the WIP I’m considering is already more than 7500 words? If your WIP is already over 7,500 words it is ineligble for the Mini Bang. Hoever, you can submit it for the regualr WIPBB.

What happens if an author finishes the fic they signed up with but it’s more than 7,500 words? Do they have to drop out at that point? By all means, we want your stories to feel as natural as possible, and if it’s over 7,500 words when you finish it, that’s great because you finished the fic! But you can’t submit it for the International Fanworks Day WIPBB Mini Bang because it’s over the maximum word count. But be proud of yourself for finishing the fic!

Is there anything not allowed? As long as you wrote it and you want to finish it, you're welcome to participate. Original fiction is fine. RPS/RPF is fine. Incest pairings are fine. Things like that I know have been hinted at in questions asked and as long as you tag for them, we’ll allow it. Also, canon settings with mostly OCs is allowed. We just ask that it be tagged properly with any content warnings you would deem fit and be given the appropriate rating for the level of sex/violence there is in the fic.

What's the etiquette around OC-centric stories? Ones that are set in a well known fandom and use several characters, but still lean a lot on original characters? Are they discouraged, or fine? As there is no art claims for this Mini Bang, having mostly OC-centric stories is more than fine.

What is, and do I need, a beta? A beta is basically a person who goes over your work to make sure that there are no spelling/grammatical errors and they can even be of assistance in helping you with story lines, etc. It is highly recommended that a beta looks over your work before posting. If you are having trouble finding a beta, try the Discord community.

Where can I post my fic/art? Stories and art can be posted to your own personal journal, Tumblr, ff-net, AO3, or wherever you like. For those of you with AO3 accounts, we will set up a collection that will go live on the first day of the posting. If you don’t currently have an AO3 account but would like one, you can contact the mods for an invitation code to see if they have any available. You can also add yourself to the AO3 Invites Request queue.

What does posting look like? Do we have to post the whole thing on the day, or can we stretch it out between when posting starts and our date? I’ve had a few longfics get killed by big bangs forcing posting to happen on a given day, and would prefer to avoid that if possible. For most fics, posting to AO3/FF.net/other places will be allowed to start on February 7th and you can stretch it out as many posts as you want as long as the complete fic is up by the posting dates (February 15th to Febrary 22nd). However, if you need to post earlier you can start posting February 1st. we want to work with writers to give them ample time to post the story up to their posting date.

Now, as for posting to the communities, you can post at any time between February 15th and February 22nd, without picking a posting date. You’ll post bragging rights similar to those used during the full length WIPBB to Tumblr and/or Dreamwidth with a link to your fic an your bragging, if you choose to include that portion.

How come there aren’t 'art claims'? The quick turnaround in time and the length of time set to write doesn’t leave a lot of time for artists to make art, so the only art allowed to be posted during this event is unfinished art from the 2024 round that has been finished.

Can I get an extension? Community extensions may be given in the event that the majority of the authors/artists need one. They may also be given individually under certain circumstances, but this must be discussed with the mods and will only be a short extension for posting.

Can I swap out a fic if my muse abandons it again? Since you’re not signing up with specific works, you are more than free to swap fics out with other ones.

Can I drop out? Absolutely! This is a lo pressure event so since you aren’t signing up to finish any particuar fic, you can drop out of the event without telling the mods as well.

Are we allowed to participate without joining the Discord? Absolutely! The Discord server is optional, as just another way to interact with your fellow writers and get updates on important dates. It’s not mandatory you join, however.

I was just wondering if there’s any way to enter the bang anonymously? Like would it be okay to put our work in an anonymous collection on ao3 or something? Unfortunately, I can’t think of a way for that to work. The collection that we use is moderated but it’s not anonymous, and there are the bragging posts that you post to Tumblr and/or Dreamwidth, which you would have your username on whichever platform you use. If you don’t want to use a Tumblr or Dreamwidth account for posting your bragging rights, however, you can always send them to the mod account and we can post them on your behalf.

I was just wondering whether I'm sworn to secrecy on which fics I'll be finishing up, or if I can shout it out to the world? No one is sworn to secrecy once they’ve picked a fic to write (aside from posting new parts to fic that’s already up somewhere…we ask that you refrain from doing that until at least February 1st)! If you want to share snippets of your fic as you make progress, that’s fine, just don’t share the whole thing until posting time starts.

I have a question/concern that’s not mentioned here. If you need help, you can always contact a mod and we will do our best to make sure that you get your story/art finished. The best and fastest method of contact is through our email, wipbigbang@gmail.com.

[the-madara-squad]

MADARA WEEK 2023

BY POPULAR DEMAND MADARA WEEK EXTENDED UNTIL THE 31ST OF DECEMBER!

pick up freely the prompts that inspire you, pin us @uchiha-event and tag #madaraweek2023

After the Uchiha event in summer 2023, it's a great pleasure to announce the Madara Week 2023. The prompt fits the darkness of winter I hope you won't be afraid and will participate . It's a creative event open to everyone loving Madara, debutant or confirmed artists. So don't be shy!

RULES:

1/ Each day comes with a different theme. Pick up the ones who inspire you the most, -you can also combined them- 2/ You have three weeks to draw fanarts, write fics, one shots, podfics, headcanons, metas, random thoughts, poems, songs, gifs, memes ect ect… as long as you create it yourself for the event. 3/ the whole prompt can be general audience or NSFW. Up to your imagination ! Just be sure to precise it in your tag and your post. 4/ Madara week means : Madara must be the main character of your art. As back-up, others characters from Naruto can be included along with your self-insert, and your Original Character. 5/ share it using the hashtag #madaraweek2023. We'll make sure to reblog it between the 18th to 24th of december and to give everyone visibility. 6/ Have fun! The aim is to celebrate Madara Uchiha with joy and flamboyance.

If you need help to brainstorm your ideas, join our Madara Week channel in our Madara Squad discord HERE

Send us comments/asks/DMs or contact directly our mods @al-hekima-madara-blog and @margretescrimsonatelier for more informations !

NOT ALLOWED:

Disrespecting, smearing campaign, insulting the organisers. Any trolls would be automatically blocked from our event. their messages screenshots and archived. The mods knows enough geeks to find your IP, your identity and sue you if it goes too far.

No incest, no pedo** stuff… If your theme is NSFW make sure all your characters are old enough.

That's it for now, we count on you to reblog this post, share it with your friends, pin your favourite artists if you wish everyone to participate in Madara's party!

With Love, the mods.

[luciawithoutj]

Hey hi hello!

I have some things to say about new merch and jo merch in general so this is gonna be a litrle longer post and actually I think I should cange my semiotics theme (which is already about jo) about how bad their merch design is.

First of all little disclaimer: this is all my humble opionion based on what I learned in my one year of being graphic design student and an artist and designer on the internet for last 4-5 years. Before going to uni I learned most of about art and graphic design stuff by reading books and watching tons of yt videos. Second of all this critic is just coming from place of love for this band because I see so mucb potential and they could do some amazing merch designs if they give it a chance and I am fully aware how expensive the touring is and why they had to cut the quality of merch products.

So far my favorite jo band merch designs are cds (that probably required some designer to make), condoms (because they are really funny, genius, nicely designed and unique merch that fit the vibe of the band and matches their songs as well) and the new tshirt from last merch drop (which design is made by one slovenian fanartist : link.

Main reason that made me want to speak up is seeing that this merch drop will only have 100 products (my friend said that could mean 20-ish shirts per size) which how big this fandom has gotten in last year is pretty really dam limited. For a limited product I am really disappointed and I hoped for more. For such a limited product that design is the most default design they could have gone for and I am so sorry for Damon because his work is goregous, amazing, breathtaking and I could talk about it for ages and how inspiring it is but this shirt design isn't serving.

If they wanted to do bare minimum of design with those 5 images here is some of my ideas (unfortunately I don't have time to visually show them to yall on a mock ups because of finals that I should be studying for instead of writing this so try to imagine what I am trying to say and demonstrate). First is just simple instead of white choose black shirt or even better a thisrt. If you want it to go a stepp further is using their name logo font (font name is Avaline btw if anyone wants to download and use it for their designs :))) and either put it how they did when they promoted the everybody's waiting or to write idk therapy sessions or anything related to the band or it can even be some inside joke.

Something like this would make design just a bit more intersting but still bare minimum but amazing for regular merch. If they want to go a step further but want to keep the long sleeves (this idea was suggested by few people I talked too) they could put pictures vertically on the sleeves. I would find it a bit cooler if it is on the right sleeve out-side and then they put their band logo (the heart one) on the left side of the shirt where people's hearts normally are.

After exams I would definitely like to try to make some designs and just limit myself with this 5 pictures and play with typography and photoshoop to make something interesting.

Another I want to mentioned is how in my humble opinion if you are gonna sell limited edition either make it really pretty or good quality or really cursed and funny with inside jokes.

I think people (and me first) would eat tshirts (but also other merch designs) with some cursed designs or just texts that say "sparklative" or "slay pose" or "I feel SloveNACE" (this 3 were suggested by amazing people in tumblr discord server) or even let Jan photoshoop their faces on most random picture. This 5 guys with their gen z humour could make and do some hilarious merch like how amazing idea the condoms are.

Last thing I want to say is how many amazingly talented fans are. I mean even Damon was so shocked and moved by amount of talent and art made in this community. Furthermore I know (some of them as online friends and mutuals, others as just artists from same fandom) who are also either graphic design students or they work in art/graphic design/entertainment fields and some of them (including myself) would be so happy to even make few merch designs or art for them for freee or for a ticket for their show. Personally I would die from happiness if I get a chance to work with my favorite band that inspires me so much everyday to the point people at my uni think I am from Slovenia and know slovenian because of how much I include them in my uni work and how much fanart and designs I made because of them in last 6 months.

I just think there is so much potential guys might not be aware of (Idk honestly because who knows what is going on backstage in their lives). But yeah they could have even asked Damon to help them with composition of the pictures on that shirt or even hire Racik to make some pretty art or any fanartist honestly. Here is just few links of my favorite fanartists who also do a lot of graphic design related stuff (and also some of them sell their products on their own websites/redbubble/etsy/inprint/etc) :

Tia <3

Roxanne

Vic

jo.kam_ (previously mentioned her design)

Lemon

yelecx

Racik (ofc)

There is probably more but my brain for hell of it won't remember any names so feel free to add in the comments or tags more artists <3

I could probably go more in depth and give more ideas how to improve merch designs the cheapest and best way as possible but still trying to keep the quality good as it needs to be. I know there is still gonna be people fighting for this shirts and people are still gonna buy their merch but just it hurts my art/designer soul seeing this bad designs when there is so much potential and they have amazing fans and amazing crew and they work with so many talnted people and they themselves are so talented and their music inspired so many and so much.

Thanks everyone for coming to my TedTalk. <3

Actually now I am thinking and from just talking about jo work from design and semiotics perspective for that semiotics seminar I could just focus on their merch design and go more in detail about it and if yall want when it is done and I translate it in english I could share it here for people who want to read about it. Let me know I guess.

Also if someone is interested my art and design insta is lucia.without.j and my redbubble is lucia-without-j and my dms are always open if someone wants to chat or complain about anything art, design, joker out or any other fandom I am in related.

P. S. I am so sorry for any spelling mistakes and if what I said doesn't make sense. English isn't my first language.

[intramoon]

hi aj !! i have a question i dont want to sound rude please know im not trying to be rude. i came back to simblr after a long time and its been really hard not to get discouraged. :/ my account is really dead no one interacts with me anymore. stuff is so different. i remember you used to be kinda popular but how do you deal with people not interacting with you as much as they used to?? i dont mean that in a mean way!! i dont want to quit simblr but idk how to get back to how things were

Hi! Don't worry, I don't think you're being rude, I understand where you're coming from. ♡ My response will be long because I have a lot to say about the topic, hopefully, it will help you.

If you were mostly active when I was in my "prime" (assuming that's what you mean by "kinda popular"), like 2018-2021, things will never be how they were then. The community, trends, and how we interacted with each other was so much different, I don't think it will ever go back to how it was then. I am kind of happy about that. Although my relationship with that time on Simblr is nostalgic (despite being too young and miserable to enjoy it), I think the community is in a healthier place now (mostly). I have had to adjust to a couple of things since coming back. One is that the content looks different now.

In my "prime" people were just getting into editing (that was a time before ReShade). Heavy editing and experimental editing were really celebrated, partly because everyone was learning and learning from each other. We just wanted to see what was possible. Now, maybe partly in reaction to that trend and how demanding it was, people have found an appreciation for the base game, simple screenshots with really only ReShade/gshade, CAS screenshots, etc. Not to say the former doesn't exist anymore because it absolutely does and people have become truly incredible at it. In some regard, it is an acquired taste especially if that's all you do. I've thought to myself many times should I stop editing the way I do, does that impact the way people take in my content? Do I have editing blindness? lol I like how I edit, I enjoy the process and, even if I do have editing blindness, I like how it looks. Even being an alpha creator, they are fewer and fewer as people opt for MM and MMix. I've thought, do people really not like alpha content anymore? Even my story at times felt like it didn't fit into the current story ethos. I thought about stopping it. I bring that all up to say, when you're coming back to a very different Simblr it can feel like what you used to make doesn't "fit in". And it might not. I don't think that should be the goal. The community now is so much more diverse, content-wise, that anything you want to make is possible. If you sacrifice your artistic vision, you'll end up leaving again. You have to make what speaks to you, regardless of the other noise.

Two, you have to find your reason for making your art. For a moment, I really lost touch with what I was even doing here. I took some time to figure it out. I first started because I wanted to tell a story that talked about intimacy through the lens of a sex worker and someone who had no romantic or sexual experience. I wanted to do this without over-sexualizing my sex worker character and infantilizing my other character. I wanted to write some of the dialogue I was having internally. Way back when that was all I wanted to do, I didn't struggle with being seen as much because I was posting with a purpose. That purpose wasn't likes or reblogs, but to tell a story and have a conversation. Everything else came after. Anyone coming back (or looking for a reason to stay) has to find, within themselves, why they want to be here and what they want to get out of it. I promise you if you reconnect with that, posting will be easier regardless of the outcome.

I know I took a lot for granted way back when. Asks about me or my characters, comments, tags, and even people wanting to join me in a Discord server or stream. Sounds like we both, a one point, wish we could go back. That just means it's something to appreciate more now. You can be and make really whatever you want, which wasn't always possible. Maybe think of coming back as a small rebirth and trust that if you keep at it, you will find your people. I am still in the process of finding mine but I trust they are out there. If you're passionate people will feel it. Best of luck and I hope something in this novel helps you! ♡

[benevolentindigo]

"Hello, visitors. It's... Nice to be able to commune here..."

"I hope that all of you are nicer this time around..."

//Pfp by @whilvlc :D

Minor winter event:

Will be snowing in the forest until end of March ❄

(Read below for more info :3)

Fear Parody account run by @brokerplushsg :D

Hai gang, Blueflame here, but y'all can call me Blue for short. I'm currently 16 so ya, I am a minor (so shoo, weird adult accounts) Uhhhh this is my first time roleplaying on tumblr so don't mind me if I make mistakes 😭 djdhdjdhdkdhdhjdhdhd (But def not my first time rping in general)

Shoutout to @fearfulpurple for inspiration to start this account lol (Go check their parody too :D)

Also if y'all curious no I don't have a schedule for posting, I just do whenever I wanna. And if I am taking particular long to answer a certain question, its probably because im drawing it lol-

If u wish to contact me, Dms are always open so feel free to pop by. :D Also I have discord and I'm most active there so if u want it, just dm me. :3

My favourite post I've made so far:

"To deny my existence, is to accept death."

- Fear

Also ig imma put some mostly obvious boundaries here too because like I wanna keep this as a safe space-

No NSFW (Self explanitory)

No political stuff/troubling real world stuff (Here is not the right place for such things)

Don't be too mean/rude (like a little is fine for the sake of rp but like don't take it too far)

Don't be weird in the bad way (Dont be too freaky with fear or just do stuff that makes people uncomfortable in general)

Roleplay info

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

Anything associated with Roleplay is in chat font.

Anything associated with Fear is Purple.

Anything associated with a Phobia is Pink.

Anything associated with players/NPCs/people in general is rainbow.

Anything associated with narration is white.

Other characters not specified here may have their own unique colored text.

"Spoken dialogue is in quotations."

*Actions start and ends with asterisks and are in italics*

//OOC have double slashes before the message.

//OORP have double slashes before the message, and is in normal font.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

Headcanons

General info:

Their MBTI personality type is ISFP-T, also known as the Turbulent Adventurer. (Ngl I'm surprised when I got these results when I did the test in character but eh it surprising fits)

Their Toastology is Galic Butter Toast. (I did it for the funnies)

They are surprisingly proficient with the guzheng if given one.

They have mixed feelings for Kikuo's songs. A few they find comfort in (Like Song of the Night and Astral Travel), many they find disturbing (Like Dust Dust Curse and Love me, Love me, Love me), and some they have conflicting feelings about. (Like Let's go to Heaven and Welcome to the Star Inn.)

Since they are a manifestation of an abstract concept, it does not associate with any gender nor does it have any preference in pronouns because frankly, they do not care.

Despite not associating with any gender, they are slightly leaning more towards being feminine presenting, but it can depend on who they are interacting with.

Nobody can agree on what their voice truely sounds like, as everyone hears it a little differently, but generally, they are soft spoken, only loud when scared or pissed off.

Technically, they could speak in any language, but they prefer English and Japanese.

Despite being the embodiment of fear, they have certain things that they are personally more afraid of, like bees, thunder and most of all, death. (And Hatred too)

When feeling threatened or just angry in general, they would growl, it sounding very similar to the rustling of leaves.

When they scream, it sounds similar to that of a Banshee. Very loud and ear piercing.

When startled, they would raise their arms and open up their claws, somewhat similar to how red pandas react when startled.

Normally they do not really swear, but if you somehow made them VERY pissed off, they would begin swearing like a sailor.

Despite Fear being ageless due to being an abstract concept, it still can be considered the "oldest" of the vices as they were developed as a survival adaptation in the very, very, distant past, about 500 million years ago. This also explains their more, primordial and tree like appearance, representing security and uncertainty at the same time.

Their anon account is @anonymous-hyacinth :D (for the sake of rp pls act like ya don't know who they are until revealed)

Abilities/Biology:

They are similar to Shimenawa, Leshy, dryads (more specifically a hamadryad), and Banshees.

They are connected to the Fear Forest as it's their domain, and they are one with all the trees. Thus they have the powers and abilities to manipulate and change the forest at will.

They are connected to each tree in the Fear Forest through the root system, kinda like IRL trees.

They are able to feel and sense through the trees due to their connections. Therefore if one tree were to get damaged, or even chopped down, Fear would feel the pain too.

Fear and the trees of the Fear Forest function a little more like purple sulfur bacterias living in deep caves rather than actual plants, having roots that sink deep into the depths of the dreamscape to gather minerals like memories and thoughts to keep growing.

They "eat" food (burgers, colas, apples, etc) with their roots, bringing it into the ground and breaking it up into smaller, more soluble pieces with their roots, or just straight up absorb it if it's already like a drink.

They have the ability to extend and retract their roots, as well as partially extend it above ground. (As shown in their Shockwave attack.)

Fear barely moves from their position, but if they really need too, they would need to retract their roots fully, before dragging their body along the ground with their arms, moving in a similar way to stick insects. They can be surprisingly fast if need be, but that doesn't change the fact it's very uncomfortable for them to be dragging around their body like that.

Their "torso" and "leg" are slightly flexible, but not to the point where they could "sit". At that point it's the equivalent of breaking their spine.

It's "Tree form" is their true form, they just shapeshift into their more humanoid one when interacting with others or engaging in combat.

In their "Tree form", they are able to have a better connection with the forest, making it easier to manipulate and change the environment of their domain.

Normally, they sleep in their "Tree form", unless suddenly knocked unconscious like using the Comatose ball.

Fear has a velvety texture around their main body, with their limbs feeling more bark like. The tuffs of "leaves" sticking out from the side of their body feel especially soft.

When put under extreme stress, the "fuzz" on their body would fall off. It does not make them look that visually different, except the tuffs on the side of their body are bare twigs, but now all of their body would have the bark like texture.

Depending on who they are talking too, they can mimic the voice of others that said person knows about. Most of the time, they use this ability to remind or comfort. However when needed, they can use it to threaten.

Having connections with animals due to being an essential survival instinct, they are able to communicate with them with ease.

Despite usually being soft, their voice can be quite powerful, as when they Screech like using Total Dismay, they can temporarily paralyse those they target.

Phobias are born from the sap of the trees in the Fear forest, and it's technically their blood too.

When stressed, the roots of the trees can excrete their sap, and thus Fear can use it to summon Phobias.

When Phobias use Rebirth, what is left of them is usually quite sticky, and what falls onto the ground usually gets absorbed back into the trees, ready to spring out again if needed to defend Fear.

Aside from Rebirth, Phobias can also bite and latch on as attacks unlike ingame.

Being naturally intuitive and observant of the world, they have a special insight and connection to every other embodiment. Thats how they know of the true nature of Hatred and how Greed and Solitude had been defeated before them.

Phobias generally act like slimes behaviour wise. Very curious. Have quite an appetite too.

Aside from general behaviour and appearance, there might be slight deviations between each phobia depending on what they represent. (Like Ophidiophobia acting and appearing slightly more snake like in apperance and behaviour.)

Fear of course knows all of their phobias and knows how to take care of each one.

Being an abstract concept, they, along with all the other residents in Dreamworld cannot be truly "killed", even when they are, they would some way eventually be rebirthed. Still doesn't change the fact that it's still a very unpleasant experience, especially for Fear, and they themselves really hate being "killed off" for many, various reasons.

If for some reason, Fear dies, the sturdiest tree in the Fear forest, would slowly become the new "Fear", kind of like how the alpha male clownfish chages and takes the place of a dominant female when the female dies off. (It's still the same Fear, just slightly different body)

When needing to revive, if there are no available trees in the Fear forest, like all are burned to the ground or chopped into stumps, new saplings would grow out from the stumps/soil from underground roots and grow into new trees, and depending on the damage, recovery might take weeks, months or maybe even a year.

To truly get rid of fear, not only must all the trees in the fear forest needs to be cut down, but all of their roots must be rid as well, which is definitely very tedious due to the amount of it as well as them branching far and deep into the crevices of the mind, it's etched into our behaviour after all. Even if a single centimeter of root remained, it can and will eventually grow back the entire forest.

Relationships:

They are generally netural towards most entities in Dream World.

They find Greed annoying sometimes.

They are friends with Solitude, even somewhat considering them like a sibling.

They are genuinely afraid of Hatred, and would avoid it as much as they could.

They hate Hatred as much as they fear it, so despite their fear, if they see others getting hurt by it, they would throw hands at it. (Probably also #1 Hatred hater)

Fear, Greed and Solitude barely see face to face, as there is not really much reason to meet up. And even if they do, they would meet up at Fear's domain due to their mobility issues.

Out of the trio, Fear knows every other member the most, as well as being the member of the trio that knows about Hatred the most aside from that one missing member.

They genuinely look out for players, despite being afraid of them sometimes.

They treat Phobias as their pets and adores them greatly if they so happen to summon one.

Design guide

Stylisation:

This is how I do the effect for the pics lol, just posting this here for reference for myself or if u want, u can take inspiration or use it with credit :D (Done in Ibis paint btw)

I might change it in the future tho-

[cyberrcyanide]

my thoughts on the whole cyanide situation

hi as cyanides 1# fan i am required by law to make a post about this/HEVJ also like half of this is copied and pasted from discord because i am NOT rewriting all that/SILLY also sorry for any spelling mistakes:(

SPOILERS AHEAD

anyways, if ill be 100% honest, i kind of dont like the fact that cyanide was purifed/uncorrupted. it was one of her most unique traits and i hate how that was just, boom, taken away from her just like that

they also didnt really have to uncorrupt her, she isnt hostile and pretty much harmless as long as she dosent touch the chest shape doohickey whatever those are things, as seen in episode 9, where she sat on the couch and did not corrupt it at all, and when tsavorite held her along with the other heroes who were quite literally squished together and nobody got hurt

as seen here, cyanides ONLY time corrupting something which in this case is circusic, by just touching his chest thingy

and as i mentioned, tsavorite held cyanide on the way to the poly forest, along with cyan and gold who were squished against her, and not getting hurt at all, which quick recap for a sec heroes cannot get corrupted, whenever the corruption/anything corrupted touches them they get hurt, which in this case nobody is

and i have a bit more examples but i think these are enough unless yall want more

ANYWAYS, onto the purification and maturing, THE DISAPPOINTMENT I FELT. THE DISAPPOINTMENT. i cannot stress enough how much i PRAYED this wouldnt happen, but brittany always proves us wrong and gets our hopes up one way or another

but dont get me wrong, i adore her design! its cute, sure, but it was WAAAYYYY too early to pull the purification card on cyanide, it couldve waited a few more episodes, or seasons... or just never (this could be biased but STILL) cyanide had SO MUCH potential as a character but just POOF!!! GONE!! BUUUUUUT i absaloutely loved the bossfight tho, absaloute banger 10/10

and as for the name, i dont really know how i feel about it. its supposed to be similar to cyan, sure, but it just... dosent really fit her if ill be honest. ive seen some cool alternitives like Skye and Nithiodote (which honestly i might start using whoever thought of that you deserve a gold star), and also the one i came up with, Cyanogen. (which im really proud of myself for that:3) but overall its a pretty nice name for her, she chose it herself so at least shes happy

and now the actual design, its adorable, ill agree on that one, but its kinda... too much for a hero?? it dosent really scream "hero" to me, and i dont know if im the only one who thinks this though, like.. its kind off tacky and makes her look out of place in a way and im really sad about that

ALSO ONE MORE THING, can i say she was SSUUCCHH good angst material?? we never really got to actually get to know her better, all we know shes a naive, (used to be) corrupt that wants to be a hero and also is a robot, we dont really get to dive into her actual personality and thats what i was hoping this episode will be if ill be honest

anyways i ran out of things to write so yap over everyone go home/SILLY feel free to correct me im open to criticism:)