#Swap Light trio

[estellardreams]

Out of Context LMK AUs

AUs Featured:

Mine:

Fusion Traffic Light Trio

The Bearers of Unity (@tbouau)

Rapunzel Wukong (by proxy Moonstone Macaque)

Prisoner Trio

Charcoal Bone King

Moon Prince

Kirin Wukong

@winterpower98

Cursed AU

@enka-antix

Rewind Monkey King

Mortal Monkey King

Band AU

Eclipsed Monkey King

@purble-turble

Prisoner MK

Prince Red

Red Boy

Time Travel Red

Demon King Red

@saphstories

Bright Moon AU

@chonggen

Eclipse Regressed

@oddogoblino

Streamer AU

@cassidyisnowdrawing

Swap Light - Yellow

Swap Light - Red

@quesocheeso

Sunset AU

@artepti

Lovingly Led to Ruin

@kyri45

Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU

@dynamicsimp

Eyeshot AU

Headshot AU

[cassidyisnowdrawing]

Lmk swap crossover event

[princess-self-shipping]

Drawing @cassidyisnowdrawing's yellow Mei again cause hee hoo she living in my brain and got me out of some hard art block-

[zellia-rambles]

Traffic light trio designs for my au..

My bad if these looked like shit.. I can't design stuff.

I haven't figured out how the plot goes. I'll be doing it after I designed all my listed charters Next design are the monkeys

[darkreviewhologram]

[purble-turble]

You know after seeing your post about all the MK’s starting to obtain a monkey form it got me realizing that I don’t think all the MKs are going to eventually obtain a monkey form, considering in one of your swap AU’s Redson is the monkey kid which would mean that  the Redson of that universe would end up obtaining a monkey form while in the other swap AU Mei is the monkey kid and that she would eventually obtain a monkey form in that AU. meaning that those are the only two versions of MK that will not obtain a monkey form!

 Unless, of course, those two versions of MK are still born from the same stone egg as the monkey king, in which all of this would pretty much be thrown out the window

Yeah for the role swap AUs there is definitely some wiggle room when it comes to which of the Traffic Light Trio gets to go full monkey. In the Battle Nexus where all the AUs are mashed up, there is probably at least one monkey version of each of the trio.. and there is probably more than one role swap version of them where it's still MK who is monkey because their origins are the same but their roles are different.

There is definitely mostly MK monkeys, but a monkey Red Son and a monkey Mei thrown in here and there would be really fun and adorable~

[soybean-official]

Vanitas and Ventus from this swap AU by @finitevoid !! Design notes under the cut

Vanitas' design takes aspects from both Ventus's original outfit and Sora's various iterations. The hood (rather than collar) and pants are pretty much straight out of KH2, but with more Ventus-style embellishments on them rather than Sora's straight lines and zippers. On his chest is a faint Unversed symbol, intentionally hidden underneath and crossed out by the X design that all 3 members of the Wayfinder trio & Eraqus wear in the original games.

Ventus' color scheme is kind of an inversion of Vanitas in the original series. Rather than black and red, he's white and green... and, the blue and yellow also helped to give a kind of "heavenly" impression. He is a boy of light after all!

[fibfoolingart]

i swear this was just supposed to be some fun aesthetic swap doodles, but then i started thinking about The Implications and now i have a wholeass story behind this au lol

any world where grace chasity isn’t a horny, homicidal prude, we lose the original plot, so this au would revolve more around the church of the starry children then max jägerman lol

solomon decides the best way to wield power in hatchetfield is through religion instead of government and he unites all the tiny denominational churches into his church, becoming the pastor (happening around the same time steph starts middle school.)

it works. almost everyone attends solomon’s church, and it becomes a required social event for anyone who’s anyone in hatchetfield.

but it’s all a manipulation for bigger purposes as solomon slowly incorporates text from the black book, pushing the church into culty territory.

as the preacher’s kid, steph is under constant scrutiny. she might have wanted to rebel as a kid, but the wrath of god is a much bigger threat than just breaking her phone and solomon uses fear and guilt to keep her in line, turning her into a model of godly behavior (at least on the surface).

the chasitys refuse to join solomon’s church, but their small congregation shuts down when there aren’t enough people left. 

grace’s parents encourage grace to pour all her free time into individual bible study to make up for the lack of church, church activities, and church outings, but grace starts treating the bible like a textbook instead of a spiritual guide.

without structured church activities, her obsession with rules and procedures shifts to the school system

grace unknowingly separates herself from spirituality when her bible obsession becomes academic. she’s still a christian, but she’s more likely to corner you in the library to infodump about angelic hierarchies than preach about purity.

travis coulson was ruth’s older cousin. it freaked her the hell out that someone could be bullied that bad that they have to transfer and their entire life is erased for a dumbass lie that everyone believes. so ruth vows that she and her friends will never be outcasts (or timberwolves) and drags pete and richie into a "popularity pact" in fifth grade, forcing them to get cool or else.

the trio spends their summer doing research and practicing social skills. (they basically spend their time practicing masking autism and refining their ability to camouflage.)

the trio starts researching what’s cool. their findings? football players, student council presidents, and school play leads are the pinnacle of popularity. so, they throw themselves into middle school tryouts and campaigns to fit these roles:

richie tries out for football but ends up as the mascot.

ruth auditions for the lead in the school play but gets relegated to lighting tech.

pete campaigns for class president but only gets elected secretary.

instead of quitting there, they regroup and try again in high school:

richie uses the athleticism he got as a mascot to land him a spot on the swim team.

ruth works her way up to the the student/assistant director for the school plays

pete works his way up the student council ranks, eventually becoming class president.

the trio is finally just cool enough that their quirks get rebranded as "quirky-cool" instead of "weird." they still bond over star wars and anime in secret, but their popularity ensures they’re never targets again.

[cassidyisnowdrawing]

LMK swap light trio, but a bit more animal (demon?) leaning. 

[burdigel]

So one of the most lore-indepth wildcards of Wild Life would be the superpowers that relates past seasons of the Life Series and acknowledges other series (eg. Hermitcraft and Evo) and their personal lore to attribute to each participant's power.

Starting alphabetically,

Bdubs power is essentially all related to time and his ability to manipulate the day cycle expentially. With the clock being his main motif across all Life Series, the ability to slow and speed time according to his will is easily solvable but with the inclusion of the Hermitcraft and Empires crossover event, his ability to speed time according to his sleep schedule becomes another layer deep. Besides the clock being a main symbol for Bdubs, the concept of sleep is another that has essentially been from the beginning of Hermitcraft. Always carrying a bed and sleeping whenever. The Empires crossover Bdubs was framed as a god of sorts of the Sun. Always bright and always there when the Sun remained as its brightest.

Bigb can summon creaking. He creaking. He is like a king or dimplomant to the players who invade their home and they view him as their kin so he has the responsibility and power to summon them.

Ethoslab based of Kakashi from Naruto is by definition a ninja. An escapee or fugitive at best. So with his ability to jump higher boosted by wind charges can be explained by his connection to the shonen series and the inclusion of the mace could be chalked up to typically stories of protagonists gaining resources or inventory to defeat the "Big Bad" or achieve some sort of goal that is to win the Life Series.

GeminiTay or GeminiSlay named by others intimidated by her, has slayed each participant brutally in the Life Series and on Hermitcraft rewarding her the reputation from her immense PvP skills. So with her power of astral projection, it acts retribution for the slayed to talk and apologise or instigate to those dead for her or others benefit.

GoodTimeWithScar is nortorious for being not PG friendly so the inclusion of one of his powers been the ability to ride people, it's self explanatory. Yet as Scar is commonly associated with and as a vex, his other powers of extreme knockback and thorns can be explained by the hostile and aggressivness of the mob.

Grian as essentially the grandmaster or orchestrator of the Life Series would have access to all the powers and mimic but not fully copy the others' powers. Yet because of his power chained by an omnipresent force, he's unable to fully copy the powers but imitate them for only short periods of time.

ImpulseSV and his teleportation powers could derive from his cyber-theme aesthetic for his Hermitcraft Season X base. With most series of fictions based around cyberpunk civilisations, technologies like teleporation and other advanced transportational devices are commonly utilsed. Resulting in Impulse's power of teleportation and the ability to swap the position of another with himself.

Martyn power is boosted hearing cause he's a Listener.

So Lizzie or LDShadowLady's inflicts blindless or a shadow upon the surrounding people in her radius and resulting her in temporary invisibility and blindess to others around her. But from her endless descent into the void in Secret Life, arises Lizzie with trails of the void clinging to grasp the light of the overworld. Causing the void remnants to spread to others and infect them with blindness in all for the hope to spread towards the light from the cold world of the End.

With the ability to fly, PearlescentMoon carries aesthetics relating to Greek mythology in both her powers and external design choices. As one of the Postmasters of Hermitcraft, Pearl is essentially the builder and additional redstone help of the trio for the postoffice and other aesthetic designs. Hermes the herald or messenger of the Olympus gods delievers messages to other celestial dieties and mortals similar to Pearl's jobs as a Postmaster. Other than the similar professions, both Pearl and Hermes wear a petasos which is essentially a wide-brimmed hat that is commoly adorned for shade and for Hermes, additional wings to the sides of the hat. Symbolising their shared ability to fly quickly and efficiently for a purpose.

As RentheDog is commonly interpreted as a dog-hybrid of sorts by the Hermitcraft and Life Series community, his ability to splice and copy the DNA of others to match their appearance could be an aftermath or positive side-effect from his hybrid mutation.

Similar to Ren, Scott has the capability to transform into any mob in sight and similar to Limited Life where he was depicted as a siren as part of the Mean Gills. His ability to shape-shift into any mob regardless if it's passive or aggressive could be similar to his mutliple origins from New Life SMP and Origin SMP and the reflect the changing nature of his powers.

So Joel with essentially triple jump could be hinting his slimely origins of his Shrek skin in the swamp. Where the swamp generally spawns slimes at a higher rate than other slime chunks and slime blocks harvested from the slimes can be used as jump boosts. Resulting in the triple jump.

After just breaking the Canary Curse two seasons ago, SolidarityGaming or Jimmy has the power to turn fully invisible until someone or something damages him. Ever since his debut to the Watchers back in Evo, Jimmy has been under constant surveillance by the Watchers as an object of their amusement. Always failing to reach even the finale and fumbling to keep alive. Yet when he broke the curse and relayed it too another, he was discarded. Seen invisible to the Watchers as he had become an object of boredom by reaching his resolution. So that's where his invisibility comes from.

Tango with his cowardly approach to things, has constantly ran away from situations but with this power, it supercharges his speed allowing him to become part of the fight and conflict instead of running away. And with his ability to frost-walk on ice, it could recall his Season 9's skin back when he was the Dungeon Master in Decked Out II and became an icy persona.

ZombieCleo and resurect dead people as she's a reanimated zombie.

----

part 32

im tired

[sprite-and-the-bunnydragons]

My headcanons for who called the others “brothers” first in the Chain

Twilight. He’s canonically the first one in the comics to call another Hero brother (first Hyrule, then Wild in the space of like, 3 minutes)

Wild. I imagine he was only a beat behind Twi given their relationship

This one was tricky, but I actually think it would be Time. Unlike the others in the Wolf Trio, I think it would have been in private the first time, probably to Warriors

Hyrule. He’s already on the cusp with how much he calls Wild “buddy”. It seems like he’s nervous to call someone else family and is testing the waters to see how his best friend might react

Wind. I think he and Hyrule could easily swap places, this is just going off of what Hyrule’s already shown

Four. He’s already primed for this with the Colors, but he’s more reserved on the outside than some of the other Heroes

Sky. I think he’d refer to all the others as family early on, but he’d only get personal enough to call them brother(s) a little later (maybe after he resolves some inner turmoil about Demise’s Curse)

Warriors. He’s probably one of the first to think of the others in that light (doesn’t even flinch or look surprised when the innkeeper calls them all brothers in the Sunset arc), but one of the last to say it out loud since he keeps his true feelings close to his chest 

Legend. I don’t think anyone will be surprised by this one 😂 But it’s worth noting that he seems close to thinking of the others as family since the Dawn arc. He just needs to make sure this isn’t all going to vanish first

[portals-and-spirits]

(Felicity: so this is really just the starter and I’ll reply from the Arson Murder Jaywalking Trio blog after)

Colin (and Argyros if she’s here) exit the portal through a dark wooden door with a simple brass knob into an odd-looking room. It’s square with each wall being about 15 feet long, but the most noticeable thing is that brass lines inlaid into the floor, corners, and ceiling split the room into four triangle-based quarters, with the one they’re currently standing in having a simple wooden floor, clean white wall, abstract wall art, fuzzy pastel green welcome mat, and wire coatrack, making it reminiscent of a cozy modern home. The quarter to their left has a much more antique vibe to it, the floor being wood in a different shade, and more worn looking, the patterned wallpaper being a faded magenta that blurred into the varied yet never too bright colors of the many, many photos pinned onto the wall around the door. There are pictures of beautiful scenes, snow fields, sunsets, forests, but there are no notable beings in them, no hints to the inhabitants of this strange little corner of the multiverse or the individual who must’ve taken them. Carved into the door on this wall are the words “If you’re seeing this, it means I’m home, feel free to come in if you can.” in a rough, simplistic writing, with a rolled-up scroll and pen pinned on top- if the scroll was unrolled, it would cover the writing. A creative way for visitors to leave messages to whoever lived here. The quarter directly across had a stone brick construction, with an archway full of blue light acting as the portal and a hanging tapestry of a clear sky and bright sun for a door. On the walls to its sides were beadwork hangings, depicting a starry night sky with a crescent moon and snowy owl flying about, and what appeared to be a mammoth made of ice playing about in the snow. Upon closer inspection, the snowy owl seemed to be made of snow as well. Next to the door is a tall flowerpot overflowing with crawling pink-flowered vines that have spread onto the floor and walls, and a small dresser with a pair of snow boots on top. The boots don’t look quite big enough for an adult, instead made for maybe an older child in their early teens. The wooden rafters holding up the upper walls and ceiling were decorated with preserved flowers of every kind, giving the room a pleasant herbal aroma. The final quarter, the one to their right, had a traditional Japanese theme, with woven floor mats and paper wall panels painted with cranes in a marsh and a few scattered lines of calligraphy. In a cylindrical frame in the corner are rolls of painted paper that could likely be used to swap out the designs on the walls. In the other corner is a discreetly hidden set of light switches disguised as a candle holder- the candle it held was only a fraction of the height of the stand and the lower portion could open to reveal the controls. The portal door is a sliding door that could’ve easily been mistaken for a wall panel if it weren’t ever-so-slightly open, a crack of white mist pouring through. In the middle of the room, over the intersecting divider lines, is a small table resembling a tall stool, being 3 feet tall with a circular top a bit more than 1 foot in diameter. On it is a singular file folder, the papers inside peeking out. Do they go through any of the doors? Do they check the file folder? Do they mess with the light switches or any of the other stuff in here?

"How fascinating..." Colin tilts his head, looking around the room. This was definitely a new and unfamiliar place. He decides to check the file folder; it's best to know what he can about this place and who's here before he investigates them directly.

"Seems familiar!" Argyros grins, looking around. She thinks for a moment, before skipping over and knocking on the door with the carved message.

"Is it a good idea to immediately start bothering people?" Colin asks lightheartedly, an eyebrow raised as he glances at Argyros.

"It'll be fiiine!" Argyros looks at Colin over her shoulder, eyes closing for a few moments as she grins.

[tosomeonessomeone]

Chamego or 포근함?

Brazil series.

words・ 4.2k /pairings・ Jisung x reader / genres・fluff / warnings・ mdi, smut

포근함 (pogeunham) — Describes a cozy, warm feeling of comfort, often linked to physical closeness (e.g., hugging, cuddling).

Chamego — (primarily used in Brazil) that describes a warm, affectionate, and intimate form of physical or emotional closeness. It conveys a sense of cozy tenderness, often linked to actions like cuddling, snuggling, or sweet whispered exchanges. However, it’s more nuanced than just "cuddling"—it carries a romantic, playful, or deeply comforting vibe depending on the context.

The sun hung heavy over the secluded Brazilian coastline, its molten light gilding the waves that kissed the sugar-white sand. Salt-kissed air tangled with the smoky perfume of charcoal, wrapping around the beach house where laughter spilled like music. Stray Kids’ voices ricocheted off the infinity pool—Hyunjin cannonballing, Felix’s sunshine giggles harmonizing with Changbin’s bassy groan as he lost another volleyball rally. But you stood rooted at the heart of it all: the open-air kitchen, where skewers of *picanha* glistened like rubies over flames, and secrets simmered alongside the *feijoada*.  

“Sunday *churrasco* isn’t just food—it’s *alma*,” you said, soul slipping into the word as you threaded garlic-rubbed beef onto skewers. Soo-jin, Minho’s sharp-tongued girlfriend, smirked while dicing mangoes for *vinagrete*. “Alma, huh? Explains why you’re sweating like this is a holy ritual.” Minho, ever the provocateur, flicked a sausage on the grill with a chef’s flourish. “Hyunjin’s been eyeing the meat like it’s his ex’s Instagram. When do we eat?”  

The trio fell into sync—knives chopping, flames crackling, banter sharpening. Soo-jin nodded toward the pool, where Felix and Changbin clinked glasses of *caipirinha*, lime wedges clinging to the rims. “Ten-to-one odds Felix faceplants in the pool by sunset.” Minho’s gaze slid to you, sly as a cat. “But you’re the main event. Still pretending you *don’t* short-circuit when Jisung exists?” The tongs slipped in your grip. “I don’t—” “Liar,” he sing-songed. “You turned red when he called you ‘master of the grill.’” Soo-jin snorted. “And him? When you explained *farofa*? Bro was writing ballads in his head.”  

As if conjured by the tease, Jisung materialized beside the grill, sleeves shoved above his elbows, hair wind-wrecked and eyes bright as the horizon. “Need a hero?” His voice was honey and mischief, and your pulse stuttered. Minho thrust a bowl of onions into his chest. “You’re on peasant duty. Cry us a river.” Jisung mock-saluted, shoulder nudging yours as he settled beside you. The rhythm didn’t falter—your hands seasoning meat, his fingers peeling onions with comedic precision. “Seungmin tried surfing earlier,” he said, grin crooked. “Looked like a wet cat fighting a dishwasher.” You choked on a laugh, and his knee bumped yours beneath the table. *Lingered*.  

The ocean breeze carried Jeongin’s voice demanding more *brigadeiros*, Hyunjin’s splash-battle yelps, and the sizzle of fat hitting flames. But here, in the kitchen’s humid halo, time bent. Jisung’s jokes softened, his glances lingering on your profile like he was memorizing the slope of your laughter. When your fingers brushed passing a skewer, the world narrowed to the salt on his collarbone, the fleck of chili powder on his thumb, and the unspoken thing glowing brighter than the embers beneath the grill.  

Platters of *picanha*, glistening with garlic butter, sat beside bowls of *farofa* and jewel-like *vinagrete*. Chan, ever the doting leader, leaned back in his chair, his Australian girlfriend laughing as Felix’s boyfriend mimicked a kookaburra call. “Feels like home,” Felix sighed, fanning himself. “Just swap the eucalyptus for palm trees.”  

Minho and Soo-jin bickered over charred sausage links, their banter sharp but fond, while Changbin’s girlfriend—a makeup artist with a lethal eyeliner wing—snapped photos of Hyunjin posing dramatically with a skewer. “Single *and* starving,” Hyunjin lamented, flopping next to Jeongin, who was already halfway through his third *brigadeiro*. Seungmin’s girlfriend, a pro baseball player she was skinny but with biceps that could crush coconuts, arm-wrestled him for the last slice of grilled pineapple. “You’re *embarrassing* me,” Seungmin hissed, though his grin betrayed him.  

And then there was you and Jisung.  

Perched at the edge of the weathered teak table, knees almost touching under the checkered tablecloth. He’d claimed the seat casually—“Easier to steal your *feijoada*”—but now his leg bounced nervously, his jokes a half-beat too quick. You focused on the way the sun caught in his hair, turning it amber, while he drummed his fingers to the bossa nova drifting from the speakers. *Your* playlist.  

“Pass the *pão de alho*?” Jisung asked, leaning close enough that his whisper brushed your ear. You handed him the garlic bread, your fingertips grazing his. A spark. A pause. The table erupted as Jeongin accidentally knocked over Hyunjin’s *caipirinha*, the lime-soaked ice cascading onto the sand. “*Ai, meu Deus*,” you muttered, scrambling for napkins. Jisung laughed, low and warm, as he helped mop the mess. “Hyunjin’s gonna make this his villain origin story.”  

Conversation ebbed—stories of Australia’s beaches, debates over the best *churrasco* cuts, Seungmin’s girlfriend recounting her no-hitter game. Yet every lull pulled you and Jisung into orbit. His shoulder pressed to yours when reaching for the chimichurri. Your laugh harmonizing with his at Minho’s impression of a capybara. A shared glance when Chan mentioned “unfinished business,” his tone teasing but pointed.  

The afternoon sun melted into liquid gold, pooling over the infinity pool and glazing the beach where waves whispered promises of cool relief. Most of the group had migrated to the water—Jeongin cannonballing with a screech, Seungmin’s girlfriend hurling a beach ball hard enough to make Felix yelp—but Hyunjin had other plans. He cornered you by the tiki bar, still clutching an empty *caipirinha* glass like a prop. “Teach me samba,” he demanded, wrist flicking dramatically. “I *refuse* to let Brazilian Stays roast me again. I’ll be irresistible or die trying.”  

You laughed, but Hyunjin’s pout was weaponized. “Fine. But don’t blame me when you pull a muscle.”  

Minho, sprawled on a lounge chair with Soo-jin painting his nails neon green, perked up. “Oh, this’ll be good. Jisung! Bet you 50,000 won our *churrasco* expert can’t hip-swivel.”  

Jisung, mid-sip of guaraná, choked. “I’m not betting on—*hyung*.”  

Too late. Hyunjin had already commandeered the Bluetooth speaker, swapping bossa nova for a throbbing samba beat. You sighed, kicking off your sandals, the terracotta tiles warm under your feet. The sundress you’d thrown on after lunch—lightweight, breezy—suddenly felt too thin under Jisung’s gaze.  

Then the music took over.  

Hips swaying, arms arcing like palm fronds in a storm, you moved as if the rhythm lived in your bones. The dress clung, betrayed the curves you’d hidden under oversized shirts and chef aprons. Hyunjin gaped, forgetting to mimic your steps. “Wow,” Felix whistled from the pool, while Changbin’s girlfriend muttered, “How’s she even real?”  

But it was Jisung who unraveled.  

He’d frozen, guaraná can dented in his grip, eyes dark and wide. Every roll of your shoulders, every sharp snap of your hips, hit him like a wave. Minho leaned over, stage-whispering, “RIP Han Jisung. Cause of death: *a Brazilian goddess*.”  

“Shut. Up,” Jisung hissed, ears crimson.  

Hyunjin, ever the chaos magnet, grabbed your hand. “Teach me the *real* thing!” You guided him into a basic step, but his limbs moved like overcooked spaghetti. “No—*fluid*, like water,” you corrected, adjusting his stance. Out of the corner of your eye, Jisung stood abruptly, pacing toward the bar. *Running away.*  

Minho pounced. “Where you going, Sungie? Heat too much?”  

“To get water,” Jisung muttered, voice strangled.  

“Bring some for the rest of us!” Seungmin’s girlfriend called. “You look *dehydrated*.”  

The group howled. You spun Hyunjin into a turn, but your pulse raced for a different reason. Jisung’s reaction—the way he’d stared, like he’d been sucker-punched by longing—thrummed under your skin.  

Then Minho shouted, “Jisung-ah, your phone’s buzzing! Is it your *crush*?”  

Jisung fumbled the glass bottle he’d just grabbed, water sloshing over his shirt. The fabric clung. You missed a step.  

Hyunjin seized the chance to dip you, nearly dropping you both. “Focus, teacher!” he laughed, oblivious. But you were too aware of Jisung’s silhouette in the fading light, shirt transparent, jaw tight as he watched Hyunjin’s hands grip your waist.  

When the song ended, the group erupted in applause. Cheeks flushed, you broke away, only to find Jisung in front of you, holding out a fresh guaraná. “For the… uh. For the sweat,” he mumbled.  

Minho snorted. “Smooth.”  

You took the drink, fingertips brushing his. His gaze dropped to your lips. The air hummed, louder than the cicadas.  

The sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in molten hues of tangerine and violet, as the first notes of *forró pé de serra* spilled from the speakers—a accordion’s sigh, a zabumba’s heartbeat. Hyunjin had long abandoned his samba quest, dragged into the pool by a vengeful Jeongin, while the others scattered like seabirds. Only Minho remained, a devil in neon-green nails, sprawled on the patio couch.  

“You can’t teach *forró* alone,” he drawled, twirling his phone like a baton. “Jisung’s two left feet need salvation. *Be his hero.*”  

Jisung, still pink from the samba spectacle, choked on his guaraná. “I’m good—”  

“You’re *terrible*,” Minho corrected. “Do it for Brazil’s honor.”  

The challenge hung in the balmy air. You swallowed, nerves fluttering. *Forró* wasn’t just a dance—it was whispered secrets in dim-lit bars, thighs brushing, hands clasped tight. But Minho’s grin was a dare.  

“Okay,” you said, voice steadier than your pulse. “But no laughing.”  

Jisung rose like a man heading to his execution.  

You positioned him under the swaying palm lights, your hand tentatively gripping his shoulder, his palm damp against your waist. “It’s… um, all about the *basicinho*,” you stammered, launching into a nervous monologue. “Three steps—side, together, side. Like a heartbeat. And the *giro*—the spin—comes after the *tippity-tap* of the feet. *Forró*’s about connection, you know? Like, your body talks. But not *talks* talks. Unless you’re, uh, into that—”  

“*Tippity-tap*?” Jisung echoed, lips twitching.  

“Shut up. Focus.”  

He tried. Oh, he *tried*. But his steps were stiff, his grip tentative, like you were made of glass. Until Minho shouted, “Jisung-ah, if you hold her any looser, she’ll float to Rio!”  

Jisung’s jaw clenched. His hand slid lower, anchoring you against him.  

The music swelled—a faster *arrasta-pé*. Your bodies synced, knees bumping, hips swaying in time. You rambled to fill the silence. “This song? It’s by *Dominguinhos*—king of *forró*. He said the best dancers listen with their skin. Which sounds weird, but—”  

“You’re blabbering,” Jisung murmured, spinning you out before pulling you back, chest to chest.  

“You’re *staring*.”  

“Can’t help it.”  

The admission hung between you. His thumb brushed the dip of your waist, igniting a trail of fire. Around you, the group’s laughter dimmed—Seungmin’s girlfriend dragging him to bed, Chan and Felix debating Tim Tam flavors in the kitchen. Even Minho vanished, leaving his neon nail polish behind like a spectral wink.  

Night unfurled its velvet cloak, the beach house now a constellation of hanging lanterns. You didn’t notice when the music softened, or when the others slipped away. All that remained: the press of Jisung’s calloused palm, the hitch in his breath when your temple grazed his jaw.  

“Your *basicinho*’s improved,” you teased, voice barely audible.  

“Had a good teacher.” His nose skimmed your ear. “Also, I have no idea what I’m doing.”  

“Just… feel it.”  

He did.  

The dance dissolved into something slower, raw. No steps, no rules—just the creak of the wooden deck, the distant shush of waves, and Jisung’s voice, rough as sand. “I lied earlier. The *churrasco* wasn’t the best part of today.”  

Your heart hammered. “Yeah?”  

“Yeah.” His forehead touched yours. “This is.”  

The night air thick with salt and the distant murmur of the kitchen crew clattering plates. Jisung’s hands still rested on your waist, his grip loose but trembling, as if he feared you’d vanish if he held too tight.  

“The Korean way,” you pressed, voice feather-light, “or the Brazilian way?”  

His brow furrowed, thumb absently tracing the lace hem of your dress. “What?”  

You stepped back just enough to see his face, moonlight etching the panic in his eyes. “Korean style’s *ppalli-ppalli*—direct. A ‘Let’s date’ text. Flowers. Maybe a handshake if you’re feeling retro.” You grinned, but your pulse roared in your ears. “Brazilian’s… messier. You confess during Carnival, drunk on *cachaça*, or whisper it in a samba club where no one can hear.”  

Jisung’s laugh was shaky. “Sounds like a *telenovela*.”  

“It’s *passion*,” you countered, stepping closer again. His breath hitched. “But you—you’re all… *aegyo* and mixtapes. Poetic texts at 2 a.m.”  

“I’m not *that* corny,” he muttered, but his ears burned.  

The waves hissed, a rhythm older than languages. You tilted your head. “So? Which one wins?”  

For a heartbeat, he faltered. Then his hands slid up your arms, slow as a tide pulling sand, until his palms cradled your face. “*My* way,” he whispered, voice roughened by a day of laughter and longing. “The… the *Jisung* way.”  

Your lips parted, but he pressed on, words tumbling like pebbles. “I practiced a speech. In Korean. About… *neon naui bit*—you’re my light, or whatever. But then you danced, and I forgot all of it. Now I’m just… *here*. With salt in my hair and my heart doing *this*—” He guided your hand to his chest, where his heartbeat thrashed against his ribs. “—and I don’t care if it’s *jeong* or *saudade* or whatever. I just… I *like* you. A lot. *Too* much. And if I don’t kiss you right now, I’ll—”  

You kissed him first.  

It wasn’t Korean propriety or Brazilian fire—it was the shudder of his exhale, the way his fingers tangled in your hair like he’d dreamed of it for years, the taste of guaraná and nervous hope. The world dissolved into the press of his lips, the sigh he muffled against your mouth, the distant crash of waves keeping time.  

When you broke apart, foreheads touching, he rasped, “Was that… enough?”  

You laughed, breathless. “*idiota*. That was perfect.”  

Somewhere in the shadows, Minho’s voice floated from an upstairs window: “ABOUT TIME!” followed by a chorus of giggles and a thud—likely Hyunjin falling off a chair.  

Jisung groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I’m moving to Antarctica.”  

“Too late,” you whispered, kissing the shell of his ear. “You’re stuck with me.”  

——

The night draped itself around you like silk, the rhythmic crash of waves a distant lullaby beyond the shuttered windows. Jisung’s back pressed against the carved wooden headboard, your legs bracketing his hips, his hands anchored to your waist like you were the only steady thing in a spinning world. His thumbs traced idle circles over the thin fabric of your sleepshirt, the heat of his palms searing through to your skin. 

“So,” he said, grinning as you stole another kiss, “is this the Brazilian way? Stealing a man’s bed *and* his dignity?”  

“You’re the one who said I could be a real Brazilian,” you teased, nipping his lower lip.  

He groaned, fingers threading into your hair. “Regretting that now.”  

“Liar.”  

When your palm slid under his shirt, tracing the taut plane of his stomach, he hissed, “*Jagiya*—you’re playing dirty.”  

You pulled back, heart jackhammering. “Last chance to back out.”  

The cultural differences between you fade away as passion takes over. His K-pop idol perfection meets your raw Brazilian sensuality, creating an intoxicating chemistry. Your caramel skin glows against his pale complexion as his hands explore the curves that drove him crazy during all those production meetings.

"I've wanted you since the first day you walked into that studio," Jisung confesses between kisses, his accent thicker with desire. His fingers trace the outline of your full lips, remembering how they'd curl into knowing smiles whenever you caught him staring.

The secrecy of your position at JYP makes this even more thrilling - the respected producer and the rising star, finally giving in to months of tension. His perfectly sculpted idol body presses against your lush curves as the ocean waves crash outside.

The moonlight filtering through the shutters casts ethereal patterns across your intertwined bodies. His touch burns through the thin fabric, leaving trails of fire wherever his fingers roam. The intimate position has your hearts racing, bodies pressed close as the ocean's song fills the night air.

You can feel every breath Jisung takes, his chest rising and falling against yours. The way he holds you - like you're precious yet dangerous - makes desire pool low in your belly. His thumbs continue their maddening circles on your waist, each touch building the tension between you.

Your fingers trace each button of his linen shirt as you undo them slowly, savoring the reveal of his smooth chest beneath. Jisung's hands mirror your movements as he slides your dress down, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The moonlight bathes your bodies in a soft glow as more skin is exposed. His breath catches when the dress pools at your feet, leaving you bare except for your delicate underwear. 

"You're stunning," he whispers, hands settling on your waist to pull you closer. The heat of his bare chest against yours makes your head spin as his lips find your neck, pressing soft kisses along your pulse point.

His lips trail down your neck as his hands slide up your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The way Jisung touches you - reverent yet hungry - makes your breath catch. You arch into him as his thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmurs against your collarbone, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. His hands move to unclasp your bra while yours explore the lean muscles of his back.

The sound of waves provides a rhythm as clothing continues to fall away, skin pressing against skin in the moonlit bedroom. When his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, you shiver in anticipation.

"Please," you whisper, rolling your hips against his growing hardness.

Jisung's hands explore every inch of your exposed skin. He manhandles you, laying you on your back and laying himself between your legs. His weight presses you deliciously into the mattress as his lips find your neck, leaving hot kisses and gentle bites that make you gasp.

His hands slide down to remove your panties, dragging them slowly down your legs while kissing a trail along your inner thighs. Once they're off, you reach for his boxers, pushing them down his hips to free his hard cock.

The moonlight illuminates your naked bodies as he settles back between your legs. His hands roam over your curves, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples until you're arching into his touch.

"Want you so bad," he groans against your neck, grinding his bare length against your wet pussy. The friction makes you both moan, bodies moving together in growing desperation.

With a mischievous grin, you push Jisung onto his back and straddle his hips, your wet pussy sliding against his hard cock. His hands immediately grip your thick thighs as you begin rolling your hips, teasing him with the friction.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," he groans, watching your breasts bounce as you move. You reach between your legs to guide his cock to your entrance, sinking down slowly until he's fully sheathed inside you.

The angle has him hitting deeper, making you moan as you start to ride him. Your hands brace on his chest for leverage as you pick up the pace, your ass jiggling with each bounce.

"Let me show you how we like it in Brazil," you purr, climbing off his cock and getting on your hands and knees. You arch your back, presenting your dripping pussy and round ass to him.

Jisung groans at the sight, gripping your hips roughly as he positions himself behind you. Without warning, he slams his thick cock deep inside you, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Fuck me hard," you demand, pushing back against him. "Show me what that Korean dick can do."

He sets a brutal pace, his balls slapping against your clit with each thrust as he pounds into your tight hole. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, spreading you wider.

Your moans fill the beach house bedroom as Jisung pounds into your dripping pussy from behind, his cock stretching you perfectly. His hands grip your ass, spreading your cheeks to watch himself disappear inside you over and over.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, speeding up his thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with the crashing waves.

You can feel your orgasm building as his thick cock hits your g-spot repeatedly. One of his hands slides around to rub your clit, making your thighs tremble.

"Cum for me," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Want to feel this tight Brazilian pussy squeeze my cock."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave as Jisung continues pounding into your clenching pussy. Your arms give out, face pressing into the mattress as your walls squeeze his cock rhythmically.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he chases his own release.

With a guttural groan, he slams deep one final time, his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside your sensitive pussy.

Jisung collapses on top of you, both of you panting heavily as you come down from your highs. His cum drips down your thighs as he slowly pulls out, making you whimper at the loss.

"That was..." he trails off, rolling to pull you against his chest. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your sweaty skin as the ocean breeze cools your heated bodies.

You snuggle into him, feeling thoroughly satisfied as his hands continue their gentle exploration. The moonlight catches the marks he left on your skin - evidence of your passionate encounter.

"Think you can handle another round?" you tease, grinding your ass back against him. His cock twitches with interest against you.

——

Later, skin sticky and souls quiet, you lay curled into him, his heartbeat a drum under your cheek. He traced idle patterns on your back. “So… do I get a citizenship now?”  

You snorted. “You wish.”  

“Worth a try.” His arms tightened around you. “For the record? The ‘Korean way’ involves breakfast in bed tomorrow. *Kimchi* pancakes. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  

You smiled into the dark. The ocean sighed. Somewhere down the hall, Minho’s voice echoed, “USE PROTECTION!” followed by a door slam.  

Jisung buried his face in a pillow. “I’m *actually* moving to Antarctica.”  

“Too late,” you whispered, kissing the fluttering pulse at his throat. “You’re Brazilian now.”  

——

The first rays of sun seeped through the gauzy curtains, painting Jisung’s bare shoulders in gold. You woke to the weight of his arm slung over your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breath warm and steady. For a moment, you lay still, savoring the quiet—the distant crash of waves, the rustle of palm fronds, the way his fingers twitched against your hip even in sleep.  

Then reality hit.  

A clatter of pans echoed from the kitchen below, followed by Chan’s booming laugh and Felix’s off-key rendition of *“De manhã”*. Jisung stirred, blinking groggily. “Are they… *frying bacon* to a samba beat?”  

You giggled, rolling to face him. His hair stuck up in chaotic tufts, pillow creases etched into his cheek. *Adorable*. “Welcome to a Brazilian morning. Chaos included.”  

He flopped onto his back, arm slung over his eyes. “I need five more years of sleep.”  

“Too bad.” You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, delighting in his shiver. “Chan’s probably making kimchi pancakes. *You* promised me breakfast.”  

“I was *delirious* last night,” he grumbled, but his hands slid down to your thighs, anchoring you against him.  

——

Descending the stairs hand-in-hand, you braced for impact. The group was clustered around the dining table—Hyunjin scrolling through dance videos, Minho flipping *pão de queijo* with a spatula, Seungmin’s girlfriend arm-wrestling Changbin.  

The room froze.  

Minho’s smirk was nuclear. “Well, well. Look who survived the *Brazilian initiation*.”  

Jisung’s grip tightened on yours. “Hyung, I will *end you*—”  

“*Aww*, they’re matching!” Felix cooed, pointing at the twin hickeys on your neck and Jisung’s.  

“*FELIX!*” Jisung lunged, but you tugged him toward the kitchen, where Chan stood flipping pancakes with one hand and sipping *cafézinho* with the other. “Ignore them,” he said, sliding a plate of *kimchi jeon* your way. “They’ve been placing bets since sunrise.”  

Jisung groaned. “Who won?”  

“Me,” Minho called. “I said you’d look like a disheveled puppy. *Pay up, Lee Know supremacy!*”  

The table was a collision of cultures: golden *pão de queijo* beside spicy kimchi, fresh *açaí* bowls next to steaming *doenjang jjigae*. You split a *brigadeiro* with Jisung, laughing as he pretended to hate the sweetness. “It’s *too much*,” he complained, yet stole another from your plate.  

Hyunjin, ever the menace, kicked Jisung under the table. “So. How *Brazilian* was it?”  

Jisung choked on his coffee. You kicked Hyunjin back. “How *single* are you?”  

The table erupted. Jeongin hurled a *pão de queijo* at Hyunjin’s head.  

After breakfast, you escaped to the beach, toes sinking into sun-warmed sand. Jisung walked beside you, quiet until you reached the tidepools. “Last night…” he started, uncharacteristically hesitant.  

You braced for regret.  

“...I didn’t know it could feel like that,” he admitted, staring at the horizon. “Like… *home*.”  

Your chest tightened. “Even with Minho’s commentary?”  

“*Especially* with Minho’s commentary.” He grinned, then sobered. “I’m… scared. Of fucking this up.”  

You interlaced your fingers, salt spray kissing your skin. “So don’t.”  

He huffed a laugh. “Simple as that?”  

“No.” You turned to him, heart in your throat. “But we’ll suck at it together.”  

He kissed you then—slow, sweet, flavored with coffee and *brigadeiro*. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to yours. “Deal.”  

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hello hello ^^ with playful land now out on en i was wondering if theres any elements of it that you enjoyed :D ive seen the translations on youtube before its release on en and have also read the reviews and criticisms of others as well as on your page and was wondering if there was anything that you likes about it

[Referencing this post!]

Sure thing ^^ There’s actually a lot I like about Playful Land, (which is also why I was sad that it wasn’t as good as I wanted it to be):

The atmosphere! I don’t like amusement parks irl (I’m kind of like that grumpy big sister that will go with you as a chaperone but wouldn’t want to eat anything or get on any rides or attractions), but they’re such interesting settings! Everything all colorful and sparkly, people laughing and chattering, the games and rides… So fun. I think the atmosphere is excellent even when it swaps over to the serious section—suddenly, the park becomes desolate and creepy as you dodge into the shadows, away from harsh light and the puppets on the hunt for you. It’s something straight out of a horror movie and I love those vibes.

Fellow and Gidel! Big fan of their designs and dynamic with each other and the cast. Fellow’s so effortlessly charming to me, whether he’s being an obvious smiling con artist, pulling that over-the-top evil smirk, or being a protective older brother/guardian figure to Gidel. He’s just a touch too… pathetic to make it to the top of my character tier list. But still!! He has a super handsome face and a cute smile. And Gidel isn’t all too bright but is earnest and supportive of Fellow in return.

The music!! It's so upbeat. I can't exactly hum along to it since I can't always follow the tune, but just hearing the beginning notes or the opening whistles make me feel really happy.

SFIPYBBIPFY0epb UNIRONICALLY THAT J WORD WAS ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE TO BE PUPPET'D. Honestly, he had it coming 🤡 Some of the other ways the guys got captured were hilarious too... Like L*ona sitting down in a place he shouldn't and Fellow literally rushing at the SSR trio to tear up their tickets.

The stakes! I enjoyed how morbid things got. What can I say??? I love it when the stakes are high. We usually don't get that in Twst event stories, so I appreciate the change of pace and forcing our blorbos to fight for their lives :))

KALIMMMMMMM 😭 I think his best traits really shone in this event!! I love how he's the only one to give Fellow a chance to speak his mind and how he continues to believe in Fellow's goodness. Some might call that naive (and yeah, it definitely is), even when his peers and especially Ace and Ortho tell him he's INSANE for thinking this way. It also shows us that Kalim is willing to listen and empathize even with people who have his worst interests in mind.

The cages--

[estellardreams]

Lego Monkie Kid: Battle Nexus Season 2 Intro

[Battle Nexus AU belongs to @purble-turble]

Hello! This took me thirteen hours but it was so worth it to finish this! :D

I've been wanting to make an lmk intro for a while now but I wasn't quite sure which one to try before I ended up getting the idea to use yours! Ta-da! *jazz hands*

So here's a short plot synopsis:

Within the realm of the Battle Nexus, things have appeared to go as smoothly as possible. Well, as possible as it was for a multiverse convergence point. But once the temperature of the world drops and a new figure emerges, everyone knew that their new mission was to survive and stop them. Problem is... The portals broke when trying to be shut down, causing nearly all of the variants of Red Son, Mei, and MK to crash together into singular entities, fighting for control over their singular bodies. Now, the newly formed fusion trio must work together to stop the Charcoal Bone King before this realm is frozen apart and torn to shreds, venturing through the newly generated world beyond the void of the Battle Nexus to do it.

All AU's involved + favorite frames below cut:

OG Traffic Light Trio

Monkey MK

Demon Bull MK (Swap AU)

Prisoner MK

Yandere MK

TBoU Mei (from @/tbouau)

Monkie Mei (from @/cassidyisnowdrawing)

Demon King Red

Red Boy

Time Travel Red

Charcoal Bone King

LBD Posession Trio

Fusion Trio

Favorite collection of frames :]

[luxthestrange]

Incorrect quotes#827 Extrovert Bf +Introvert S.O

Asmo*Getting ready for a night of clubbing*Are you ready to go CRAZZZY tonight?!~WOO!~*flops in his bed*

Mc & Solo*Sitting in his bed smilling at him*Uh-huh,Yeah

At The Club the Crowds of demons drinking and dancing under the neon lights

Asmo*With a drink at hand abit tipsy*HOOHOO!~THIS PLACE IS WILD!!!~

Mc*Scaring any demons that get too close to Asmo to 'catch a feel"*

Solo*Swaps his alcoholic drink to water*So wild, Yeah yeah yeah

The Trio In a car

Asmo*In the backseat completely smashed,giggling*Baaabes we were insane tonight~

Mc*Driving looking at review mirror*Suuuure were

In Asmo's bedroom, After Solomon and You Did Asmo's bath routine and facial on him and tucked him in bed

Asmo*Yawning with closed eyes*Today was so fun, huh?

Mc & Solo*Both peck his cheek*SOOOOO fun...in a way~*Both leave the 5th born to sleep as the two head out of the room to enjoy their quiet evening on the couch with tv*