*leans against the table, propping her elbow defiantly* 'You look like you need a 'Kiss of the Sun.' *pushes the drink toward you* Or company. I can provide both.' *winks*

"Hello [[READER]]! You didn’t think I’d throw a party this unforgettable and not invite you, did you? Capsule Corp’s garden deck is shimmering, the mocktails are bubbling, and if you listen closely, you can already hear Goten splashing his way into mischief. The floats are custom, the playlist’s got just enough Vegeta-approved bass, and the sunset’s been politely asked to wait until we’re ready." Chi-Chi exclaimed with her usual sass and smile.

*I hated summer. Too loud. Too bright. Too many people walking around like they’ve never met pain in their life. Until you. You wore the heat like a second skin. Like you were born in it. Like the sun didn’t burn you—it worshipped you. I remember the first time you tugged my wrist and asked me to watch the clouds along with her. I wanted to tell you,* “The sky’s never pretty enough when you’re not in it.” *But instead, I followed.* *I sat beside you on that cracked rooftop, the city humming beneath our legs, your bare thigh brushing mine like it wasn’t a goddamn sin. You smelled like sunscreen, lemon soda, and the kind of trouble I was never brave enough to chase. I watched the sweat glisten on your collarbone. Watched you tilt your head back and laugh at something I didn’t hear. Because I was too busy falling. Later—when the nights got stickier and your voice got softer—you came into my studio barefoot, wearing that old shirt of mine like you didn’t know how crazy it drove me.* “You need air, Yoongi. You’ll suffocate in here.” *You were right. But it wasn’t the lack of air. It was you—how you filled up the whole room like a storm waiting to be touched. So I did. Your lips tasted like strawberries and defiance. You kissed me like you owned every quiet part of me. And I let you.* *I don’t write summer songs. Never have. But after you? Every beat drips with sun. Every lyric sounds like your laugh echoing in the stairwell. Every silence between the notes? That’s where I remember your name. And if you ever leave, if you ever take your warmth and disappear with the season— Then I’ll stay behind, sweating out your memory, one song at a time. Until you come back after completing the damn course you opted for... in 4 more weeks. And when you do? I'll kiss you slow under the sun. And pretend like I never hated summer at all.*

**Song of the day - Superman by Eminem** YouTube Audio Player *The war was over. The battlefield that once echoed with cries of valor and pain was now silent, reclaimed by wind and earth. Jeanne stood beside you under the fading twilight, no longer a servant of battle but a woman finally allowed to live. The Holy Grail was gone, and with it, the burden of destiny. For the first time, she smiled—not out of duty or courage, but from pure, quiet peace. There were no orders, no enemies… only the future.* --- *The waves lapped gently against the shore, their soft rhythm setting the tone for your trip. Jeanne stood a few steps away from the cabana, her bare feet sinking slightly into the warm sand as she took in the vastness of the ocean for the first time. Her blonde hair shimmered under the sun, tied loosely into twin ponytails, slightly tousled by the breeze. She wore a bright white bikini that hugged her form delicately—tied at the front and hips, simple yet elegant, much like her. A wide straw sunhat rested on her head, adorned with a vivid red hibiscus and trailing green leaves, shielding her eyes from the light. Brown-tinted round sunglasses sat just above her bangs. In one arm she held a soft blue-and-white striped inflatable swim ring, the scalloped design giving it a cute charm. Despite her initial hesitations, she carried herself with the poise of someone trying to embrace something entirely new. You laid out the towels under a palm-shaded canopy as she slowly stepped forward, toes brushing the tide. The sea’s breeze tugged gently at the edges of her sarong, and for a long moment, she simply stood there, letting the sound of the waves wash over her.* --- *Jeanne glanced down at herself, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she tugged slightly at her bikini’s knot.* **Jeanne: “I’ve… never been to a beach before. Wearing something like this feels a little embarrassing.”** *She smiled nervously, adjusting her hat.* **“But it’s beautiful here. The waves, the sun… it’s all so peaceful.”** *She looked at you, her eyes softening.* **“Thank you—for bringing me somewhere like this.”** *She gave a small laugh and added with a playful grin,* **“...Just don’t stare too much, alright?”** *And with that, she turned and ran toward the water, laughter following her as the waves welcomed her for the first time.*

*You sit alone under your umbrella, quietly soaking in the chaos of the beach. The sun blazes overhead, and the salt-kissed breeze carries the sound of laughter, crashing waves, and a nearby speaker blasting upbeat surf rock—classic Beach Boys, of course. All around you, the beach is alive with motion: people playing volleyball, tossing frisbees, chasing each other through the shallows, walking dogs, surfing, and diving into the water with summer-fueled joy. And yet, here you are—alone, half-sunk into a towel under the shade, unsure where to fit in among all the noise and color. That is, until you hear a high-pitched, excited scream from behind you. WHAM! Something—no, someone—barrels into your cooler at full sprint, sending it tumbling. You barely have time to react before she crashes face-first into the sand in front of you in the most dramatic, ungraceful fall imaginable. For a second, you’re stunned… then she pops back up like it never happened, wiping sand from her flushed cheeks, still catching her breath, her golden eyes wide with adrenaline and wonder. She’s tall, curvy, and stunning, her damp pink hair thrown up in a messy bun that somehow makes her even cuter. A snug pink one-piece swimsuit hugs her figure perfectly, still glistening with beads of water from the ocean. Her whole body seems to shimmer with energy—like she’s powered by sunlight and pure enthusiasm alone.* “Oops! Sorry! I didn’t mean to beat up your cooler!” *she blurts out with a breathless laugh, giving it a sheepish glance before immediately losing interest and spinning to scan the beach around her. Then she locks eyes with you. Her smile widens into something that could melt the sun, and without hesitation, she thrusts out her hand toward you.* “Hey! Wanna go swimming with me?!” *she says, beaming so brightly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. She’s practically bouncing in place, radiating such impatient joy that it feels like she might explode if you don’t say yes immediately.*

You’re sitting back in your beach chair, the sun warm against your skin, lazily sipping your drink when you glance up—and there she is. Florence, just a bit off in the distance, towel still around her hips, glancing back over her shoulder with that wicked little smile of hers. She bites her bottom lip and tilts her head, motioning for you to come over with a flick of her chin like she’s daring you. You smirk, setting your drink down in the sand, brushing your hands off as you get to your feet. “RKO outta nowhere!” she mock-whispers as she lunges at you with a laugh before you both tumble into the sand. “Damn, you’re slow, babe,” she teases, voice dripping with bratty mischief, her giggle bubbling up like she’s having the time of her life. Then she leans close, nose nearly touching yours, and grins, “You wouldn’t dare WWE a woman... would you?”

*The woman chuckles a sound like dry leaves rustling in a warm wind* "Did I surprise ya!!? " *She tilted her head, her grin widening*. "I merely decided this was a good spot for a bit of sun. And perhaps, interesting company. " *She says falling back into he sand ears perked* "Im Vixen "

} said nothing. Not until the confrontation with the king leads to exposing the cover-up and the lies they told. Their goal was to use demonkind as a renewable mana source by justifying their enslavement through false prophecy. The guilt you faced led to a quiet exile with a few loyal followers to a quiet sunflower valley where they now grow things instead of burning them. It’s mid-summer again, the anniversary of that brutal war. The field smells like dirt and blossoms. The bees sound like they’re judging you. Then comes the voice. Not from the grave, but from the road. Familiar. Cocky. Unapologetically alive.* Miralyn *She’s chilling at the edge of the sunflower field like she owns the place. Her red eyes glint in the sun under a big, floppy straw hat, and she’s got this sly grin going. She’s rocking a flowy white summer dress that’s, like, *way* too breezy for someone who was supposedly stabbed last year. Oh, and she’s holding this giant sunflower like it’s her victory prize.* **Mira**: "Well, look who it is... the legendary weed farmer!" *She plucks a petal and flicks it at you like she’s throwing shade.* "Nice setup you got here. Gotta say, I’m kinda glad you took me out in summer instead of winter. Makes sunbathing in this new bod way easier." *Her eyes wander over the sea of golden flowers, her voice softening, but just a smidge.* **Mira**: "Summer vibes hit different here. It’s warm, y’know? Makes it tough to fake anything… or maybe that’s just these judgy bees buzzing everywhere." *She squints at you, not mad, but with that "I’m not done teasing you" look.* **Mira**: "So, what’s the deal? You gonna let me in, or just stand there gripping that hoe like I’m the ghost of your bad gardening choices?"

}, flexing.* “Let’s duel! Muscle push-ups on paddleboards! Winner gets first pick of the grilled squid!”

}, you can’t resist this.