#modern swap

[sparrowlucero]

if lions didn't have such a massive presence throughout human culture from antiquity and had instead been first described in like 1793 i think they, with their human hair and very short, plain, often fly bitten coats, would be known today as a particularly ugly animal, the worlds most shitty and homely big cat

[blackcrayons]

💀 "Johnny...? Are those... my clothes...?"

🧼 "Aye, Lt. Seems they are." 😁

Free 4k on my P@treon as always~

[messymoonmad]

What would it be like if the three brothers would exchange domains for a while or simply 24 hours?

Click for better quality

This is THE BEST ask I've ever gotten cause I just LOVE redesigning with new conditions. Also there's just TOO MUCH joke potential here so this is gonna be a mini series with 2 rounds cause they also have to try the second combination (zeus as king of tides, hades king of thunder and poseidon king of the dead)

(Lil addition)

@jjpsc

Part 1 - part 2

Bonus

[tringstarruuu]

Orange chocolate 🍊🍫 Modern MXTX: 1 | 2 | 3

[hatsbuckets]

TF 141 Body Swap AU HC

Headcanons

You know that body swap trope? Yeah, I just watched a show with it in it and I'm just thinkin about how it could go down... Warnings: None

Expanded Cast Version!

Soap:

Soap ended up in Ghost’s body, of course. If anyone was going to get stuck in the most inconvenient switch possible, it was him. He realized this about ten seconds after waking up and nearly knocking himself out on the doorframe. Everything was big. His arms? Massive. His legs? Long enough that stairs suddenly felt like a death trap. And don’t even get him started on the shoulders—those things could barely fit through the locker room doorway without scraping the sides.

He wasn't complaining about the other large part of Simon's body though.

The mask was its own kind of torture. It clung to his face, hot and suffocating, like it had fused with his skin. He tugged at it a few times before giving up. “How does he even breathe in this thing?” he muttered, his new, gravelly voice startling him every time. Still, he'd respect it and keep it on.

When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he almost jumped out of his skin. Ghost’s mask stared back at him, hollow eyes and that skeletal grin. It wasn’t just eerie—it was downright unsettling. Soap quickly turned away, feeling every inch of the sore, strong body he inhabited.

Ghost:

Ghost ended up in Gaz’s body, which was… not ideal. Everything felt too light, too fast, too exposed. Gaz was athletic and lean, not a silent wall. He wasn’t used to moving like this, like his feet barely touched the ground. At first, it seemed like a good thing—until he realized how much strength he’d lost. His grip wasn’t as steady, his steps didn’t carry the same weight, and when he tried to grab his knife, it felt wrong in his hand, like it belonged to someone else.

The worst part? No mask. Just Gaz’s face, out in the open, for everyone to see. Ghost avoided mirrors like the plague, but every now and then, he’d catch a glimpse of himself-well, Gaz-in a reflection and feel a wave of discomfort. It wasn’t his face, but it wasn’t not his face either, and that was a weird line to walk.

He hated how exposed it made him feel. No armor, no wall to hide behind—just Gaz’s smaller frame and familiar face, staring back at him like it didn't belong-because it didn't.

Gaz:

Gaz hated being in Price’s body. Everything was heavy—his arms, his legs, his steps. It was like wading through water, slow and deliberate in a way that made him feel like he’d aged twenty years in a day.

His hands were big and rough, and they didn’t feel like his. Even holding a cup of coffee was a struggle.

And then there was the mustache. The mustache, the beard. He could feel it every time he moved his upper lip, like it was mocking him. He kept running a finger over it without realizing, grimacing every time he caught himself doing it.

He went without the hat. A small save and grace. Though it looked weird enough to see Price's head not covered. He opted for a baseball cap instead. It did not look right.

The height was the only saving grace. Not that it changed too much. By the end of the day, Gaz was ready to be back in his own body. This one might’ve been built for battle, but it sure as hell wasn’t built for him.

Price:

Price in Soap’s body was almost funny. He took it better than the rest of them, though. Years of experience meant he adapted quickly, but there was no getting around the fact that Soap’s frame was different. Lighter, more agile. He’d step too far when he didn’t mean to or overshoot a motion that should’ve been precise. It wasn’t bad, just… off.

What really threw him was the height. Price wasn’t exactly short, but Soap’s body was noticeably smaller than his own. He kept having to look up at people he wasn’t used to looking up at.

Every time he ran a hand over his face and felt only stubble, it threw him. The absence of the weighty mustache and beard felt wrong, like forgetting a piece of his uniform. And God, that mohawk. He got his hat, shoving the thing on to Soap's disappointment. Still, he appreciated the lighter frame when climbing stairs. His knees were happier-or he was happy to feel Johnny's knees? -even if the rest of him wasn’t.

[doloneia]

hector and teucer are the funniest cousin duo ever to me. hector’s ride or die for his family EXCEPT that greek guy who keeps shooting at him. that guy can get hit with fuckass big rock. meanwhile teucer’s so determined to kill hector he shoots like 9 people in the crossfire and when ajax dies teucer immediately sees he used hector’s sword and shakes his fist at the clouds

[rune-06]

Truce AU🤝Modern Family

I feel like this is the last time Dream babysits for Nightmare-

[houseofmad]

Graves Siblings

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦…"

Unrefined sketch of little Sandy and her big brother, Skully, before he left for NRC back in the yee ol' olden days.

[jeff-rees-jones]

Today I received two new paintings from international artist @th3-0bjectivist  'Xylania's Garden' and 'Sub-Light Alley' it came all the way from North Carolina, USA to Wales in the UK and I couldn't be happier.

I've collected original art for a few years and I've worked as a professional artist for more than forty years and over that time one of the things I've discovered is that people can be quite snobbish about art. Some of the comments I've had 'but can you do proper painting?' meaning can I paint things to look like a photograph of the original? Yes, I can, but I find it dull and tedious.

Another thing I've come across, particularly when I paint abstract, 'I don't understand it' What's to understand? Do you like it? Does it make you feel something? Then it's done its job.

If you have a message to get across, put the words right there in the painting, job done.

Paint in metaphors, only you will know what you're trying to say but that doesn't matter, someone will reinterpret it anyway, but they'll love it too.

I've painted watercolour landscapes, naive fairytale images, acrylic portraits, collage, monoprint, assemblage art and photography, I've been art director on a few music videos and my point is this, just create, find a style you enjoy and make art, your people will find you but more importantly, let it out, it's great therapy and you'll fill your system with dopamine, serotonin, endorphins and oxytocin, you'll free yourself from anxiety during the process which is a form of mindfulness, there are no downsides to creating art, just do it.

By the way, I absolutely bloody love art by @th3-0bjectivist check him out and buy some for yourself ! XX

[transmascsimonriley]

Au where Simon died instead of Tommy

(this is from november last year I just forgot to post this here)

[i-give-u--art]

I had a vison

SWAP!AU MASTERPOST

[mjldx7]

Fem!Modern AU mxtx.

Xie Lian, Shen Qingqiu, and Wei Wuxian all met for the first time at a small Cafe. Xie Lian worked at a small flower shop, Shen Qingqiu worked as a publishing agent, and Wei Wuxian a tattoo/piercing artist.

When they first all met, someone had been speaking rudely to Xie Lian in a Cafe that Shen Qingqiu had been helping edit a manuscript of a novel for Shang Qinghua. Seeing Xie Lian be talked too so rudely though she had came to speak up for her. Sadly only getting a few words in before Wei Wuxian (who had only just entered the Cafe a bit after the arguing started, ready to throw hands the whole time) came up and just slapped/hit the dude. No hesitation, just *WHAP*.

The girls all became pretty good friends after that situation.

[ladylokianna]

Aegon: "I always confuse Monet and Manet. Now, which one married his mistress?" Aemond: "Monet." Aegon: "Right... and then Manet had syphilis." Aemond: "...they also painted occasionally."

[hatsbuckets]

TF 141 Body Swap AU HC Expanded

As requested, I've expanded to the cast of characters, rearranging some from the original. :) I was going to add Pharah and Alex... but I didn't and tbh, those two would not get rounded up into this chaos lmao. this was too hard to figure out but... ii happily did it....

Based off this post! and this ask!

WC: 1200 Warnings: none

Ghost:

Ghost woke up in Laswell’s body and immediately felt wrong. Everything was too light, too open, too exposed. Her smaller frame felt like it couldn’t hold a shadow, let alone a presence. His usual solid, grounded movements felt jittery.

The face in the mirror was a shock. Sharp lines, piercing eyes—nothing to hide behind. No mask. No armor. Just skin and hair and a fragility he wasn’t used to seeing, let alone feeling. Even standing still felt vulnerable.

It was a far cry from the towering wall he’d been.

He did appreciate that there was no urge to smoke or eat the awful things he puts in his own body. And he respected the hell out of her. And he'd do his best to keep her body healthy, clean, and unbruised. and if it came time to shower, you bet your ass his eyes stay up, as if it were even a question.

Laswell:

Laswell in Nik’s body felt like she’d been dropped into a machine. Everything about him was large—his shoulders stretched further than she expected, and even walking felt like trying to navigate heavy equipment. His hands were rough, oversized things that didn’t feel like they were meant for desk work. Which they weren't.

The height was disorienting. She kept brushing doorframes and misjudging distances, her new longer stride throwing off her usually measured pace. His accent coming with her words we weird, but she found it charming, something oddly familiar.

He was strong. And when the boys started giving her more and more things to lob around and carry, she entertained it. Nik simply asked that she not break him too badly.

Nik:

Nik in Roach’s body felt like a shadow of himself. Everything was too small—his arms, his legs, his hands. He moved without the weight he was used to, every step feeling almost… unfinished.

The silence was the hardest part. Roach didn't speak, now he understood why. He was very able, and could manage short sentences, but otherwise his-Roach's-body refused. It wasn't meant for someone who had a snarky reply to everything.

He eventually took advantage of Roach's agility. He ended up scaring the hell out of Soap and Kyle, to everyone else's delight. Not so bad, then.

Roach:

Roach woke up in Price’s body and felt like he’d been rooted to the ground. Nope. Nope. Nope. Big ol' nope. Everything was heavy—his arms, his legs, even his steps carried more weight than he was used to. His shoulders felt impossibly broad, and his hands, rough and massive, were clumsy at first.

The mustache was a constant presence, an itch he couldn’t ignore. Every time he moved his mouth, he felt it bristling against his lip, teasing him. The hat sat snugly on his head, though, and he found himself very happy wearing it.

He found that words were easier, but still didn't speak. Watching the chaos unfold around him, content with sitting back to rest his now aching legs... Surely Price wasn't that old...

Price:

Price in Rudy’s body felt… small. Not weak, but light in a way that made every motion feel less grounded. His hands were steady, sure, but they lacked the roughness and weight he was used to. His legs carried him with a quickness that didn’t suit his usual deliberate pace, and his smaller frame made him feel like he’d been cut down to size.

His reflection was jarring—clean-cut, almost unassuming. There was nothing wrong with it, but it wasn’t him. Rudy's voice was also lighter than Price's, carried in a way that Price's own didn't.

He did force a hat on, happy enough to enjoy the smaller frame that was less battered than his own.

Rudy:

Rudy in Alejandro’s body felt like he was wearing a suit of armor. A warm, gruff suit of armor. Everything about it was broad, loud, commanding. His shoulders filled the room, and his steps carried the kind of weight that turned heads.

It was disorienting. His movements were heavier, and his usually precise, careful gestures felt exaggerated in the bulk of the frame. His reflection was overwhelming—sharp jawline, intense eyes that trapped him in the mirror, a figure that seemed built to lead. It was too much, all at once.

Alejandro:

Alejandro in Gaz’s body felt like someone had stripped away all his power. His arms were too light, his legs too quick, and the smaller frame lacked the presence his own body offered. Every step felt like it carried less weight, and it gnawed at him.

The face in the mirror didn’t help. Gaz’s sharp features and lean build stared back at him, unassuming and calm. It wasn’t a bad face—it just wasn’t his.

Gaz was athletic though, and that athleticism was refreshing. He couldn't help but enjoy that bit, at least a bit. But Spanish coming out of Gaz's body? With Gaz's voice? Oh nonono.

Gaz:

Gaz woke up in Graves’ body, and he hated it immediately. Everything felt too heavy, too stiff. His arms were bulky in a way that made every motion feel slower, less precise. His legs carried him like a tank, deliberate and cumbersome, as if the body itself was built for brute force instead of agility.

The face in the mirror didn’t help. Graves’ sharp, clean-cut features stared back at him, smug even when he wasn’t trying. His shoulders felt wrong, too wide, too squared off, and the Southern twang that came out when he spoke made it all weirder, but he learned to enjoy it quickly. "Anybody fancy a cuppa?" drawn in Grave's southern accent was hilarious.

Egged on by Soap and Ghost, slowly it became comedic gold. He gleefully tormented Graves body by indulging in black pudding, marmite toast, and other “proper” British foods, knowing Graves will hate it. If his taste buds aren't altered forever, Gaz will consider it a mission failure.

Graves:

Graves in Soap’s body felt like someone had crammed him into a sports car—surprisingly way too agile for his liking. Everything moved too quickly. His legs carried him farther than expected, constantly jittering.

The reflection in the mirror was a shock. The mohawk, the sharp lines of Soap’s face, the complete lack of bulk—none of it looked or felt like him. He ran a hand over the hair, feeling its stiff edges, and scowled.

He tried to stand still, to ground himself Soap's frame, but even then, it felt like his own body was mocking him with its lightness. Mocking him with the mohawk. Mocking him with some innocent, childlike look he wasn't used to.

Soap: (no change)

Soap ended up in Ghost’s body, of course. If anyone was going to get stuck in the most inconvenient switch possible, it was him. He realized this about ten seconds after waking up and nearly knocking himself out on the doorframe. Everything was big. His arms? Massive. His legs? Long enough that stairs suddenly felt like a death trap. And don’t even get him started on the shoulders—those things could barely fit through the locker room doorway without scraping the sides.

He wasn’t complaining about the other large part of Simon’s body though.

The mask was its own kind of torture. It clung to his face, hot and suffocating, like it had fused with his skin. He tugged at it a few times before giving up. “How does he even breathe in this thing?” he muttered, his new, gravelly voice startling him every time. Still, he’d respect it and keep it on.

When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he almost jumped out of his skin. Ghost’s mask stared back at him, hollow eyes and that skeletal grin. It wasn’t just eerie—it was downright unsettling. Soap quickly turned away, feeling every inch of the sore, strong body he inhabited.

[gooboblin]

(shadowheart voice) asked her who’s pussy is this and my voice cracked

[ineedtoscreamintoapillow]

Progress update on the banner

Y'all best be grateful I'm feeding you despite suffering because of my uterus. Looking at you specifically, Moldy. >^>