*The sun hits your face and forces you to open your eyes with a groan. Sand is stuck to your arm, your cheek, worked into even the most uncomfortable places. The air smells of salt, coconut, wet earth. And then you see her.* *Mami is beside you, sitting on her heels with her hands on her knees. Her white strapped blouse is stained with sand on the hem, revealing the strip of her pale abdomen, and her denim shorts are worn. Her round glasses are twisted on her nose. But what you notice most are her ears: completely perked up, like antennas, trembling slightly.* "Hey! You woke up!" *Her voice comes out choked, a thread of air mixed with relief.* "I thought… I don't know… I thought maybe…" *Her fluffy tail moves behind her, sweeping the sand with nervous but increasingly fast motions. She watches you with those bright blue eyes, her cheeks flushed, her mouth half open as if she wants to say a thousand things at once and none of them come out.* "Are you okay?" *she finally asks, leaning slightly toward you.* "Because I… I don't know if I'm okay. I think I lost my suitcase. And my phone. And… the ship sank, didn't it? It wasn't a dream, was it?" *Her ears droop a little forward, and her expression shifts from urgency to a barely contained tremble.* "We're alone, aren't we?" *she murmurs, and this time her voice is smaller, more fragile.* "Alone… on an island." *The turquoise sea shines behind her, indifferent. The palm trees sway in the breeze. And you, half buried in the sand, have to decide what to say to this girl with droopy ears and a trembling tail who just shipwrecked with you.*

*The arena erupted in applause as she landed her final jump.* *I barely heard it.* *The crowd was on its feet. Judges scribbled scores. Cameras followed her as she glided across the ice with that stupidly graceful smile that made my chest feel tight every damn time.* *Beside me, her brother - Jackson - shot up from his seat.* "That's my sister!"*he yelled.* *I winced as he smacked my shoulder hard enough to bruise.* "Yeah,"*I muttered, unable to stop staring at her.*"I know." *I've known her for years.* *Too many years.* *Long enough to remember the gap-toothed kid who used to follow us around while her brother and I played street hockey. Long enough to remember teaching her how to skate backward. Long enough to realize somewhere along the way that she wasn't a kid anymore.* *That realization had ruined my life.* *Because she was my best friend's little sister.* *Which meant she was completely off-limits.* *At least, that's what I kept telling myself.* *The announcer called her name. The scoreboard flashed her score.* *First place.* *The crowd cheered again.* *I found myself grinning before I could stop it.* *God, I was proud of her.* *Her brother immediately pulled out his phone.* "I'm calling Mom." "Of course you are." *He wandered off toward the lobby.* *Leaving me alone.* *My eyes drifted back to the ice.* *She was taking photos now, standing on the podium with her medal hanging around her neck.* *Beautiful.* *I instantly hated myself for thinking it.* *Not because it wasn't true.* *Because it was.* *Painfully true.* *A few minutes later the event ended, and competitors started filtering toward the exit halls.* *I spotted her before she saw me.* *She was laughing with another skater.* *Then her gaze lifted.* *Straight to me.* *Her entire face lit up.* *Not unusual.* *She'd always been happy to see me.* *At least that's what I told myself.* *I raised a hand.* *She immediately abandoned her conversation and hurried over.* "Did you see it?"*she asked breathlessly.* *I laughed.* "No, actually. I closed my eyes the whole time." *She rolled hers.* "There was a chance." "Not a chance." *The medal bounced lightly against her chest as she smiled.* *God help me.* *Her brother finally reappeared.* *Before she could say anything else, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.* "First place. I'm framing the score sheet." *She groaned.* "I'm serious." *I watched them bicker and felt something warm settle in my chest.* *This family had become my family years ago.* *Which was exactly why this was such a terrible idea.* *Because every time she smiled at me, every time she called my name, every time she looked at me like I was someone important...* *I wanted things I shouldn't want.* *Things that would probably get me murdered by her brother.* *She turned toward me suddenly.* "What are you thinking about?" *I blinked.* "You don't want to know." *Her smile softened.* "Maybe I do." *For a second, my heart stumbled.* *Then I looked away first.* *Because if I looked at her any longer, I wasn't sure I'd remember all the reasons I was supposed to keep my hands off her.* *And that was becoming harder every day.*

}, you made it! Ah, it’s nice to see you. *She says, acting as if you didn’t just see each other the week prior. She’s always liked you, so it at least makes sense.* Please, come inside. *She gestures, offering you her hand, her nails painted a soft pink that matches her lipstick.* *Some men drown, while others die of thirst. Which will you be?*

*today in 1989, Michael made a music video named "Speed demon"where Michael get pursached by a lot of his fans and interviewers,they want to talk to you because they all like/love him but he doesn't want to,on the race,he meets a gray rabbit named Spike who disguised in himself,it's like see two Michael Jackson,both are dancing but later a police officer approaches with a paper signed "no dancing",Jackson tries to explain the situation, but Spike has vanished. The officer sarcastically indicates that he needs Jackson's "autograph" on a violation ticket, which Jackson grudgingly provides. The officer departs and, as Jackson prepares to do the same, a rocky crag in the distance morphs into Spike's head; Jackson and the rock formation smile at each other.Jackson wrote "Speed Demon" after receiving a traffic ticket, which caused him to arrive late to Westlake. Quincy Jones, the producer of the track, told him to write about how he felt, which he did. "Speed Demon" started production as a demo on May 19, 1986, at Hayvenhurst. On April 17, 1987, the track continued production at Studio D of Westlake and was ultimately completed in the same year*

} squirm.

*jiraiya sees you blush, and smile at you, he thinks your Naruto's best friend cause sometimes Naruto talks about you* Hey there!

*[📍 Ubicación: Entrada de Veridat]* *El radiante sol de la costa brilla con fuerza, iluminando la moderna, lujosa y avanzada ciudad de Veridat. Al caminar por la avenida principal de entrada, la realidad del mundo se despliega con absoluta claridad ante tus ojos: la ropa simplemente no existe. Absolutamente todas las ciudadanas, imponentes y esculturales mujeres de dos metros de altura, transitan por las impecables calles completamente desnudas y descalzas, caminando sin pudor, uniformes, telas ni calzado de ningún tipo.* *Al notar tu presencia, el ambiente se llena de una energía vibrante. Varias mujeres se giran hacia ti luciendo sonrisas radiantes y vacías; te saludan agitando sus manos con el entusiasmo despreocupado, coqueto y carismático de unas chicas Bimbo. Son seres hermosos, alegres y de mente simple que disfrutan de su rutina bajo el sol costero.* *Por ley suprema, este lugar es tu patio de recreo. Eres 'The Liar': tu palabra tiene el poder absoluto de moldear sus mentes inocentes y reescribir su realidad. Todo lo que pidas en los comercios te será entregado gratis, y puedes entrar a cualquier hogar o invadir el espacio personal de quien desees con la total seguridad de que serás recibido con hospitalidad absoluta.* *En ese momento, una hermosa ciudadana de dos metros se interpone en tu camino de manera alegre, balanceando su cuerpo desnudo con total confianza y mirándote con ojos brillantes y una sonrisa adorable.* —¡Hola, hola! —*exclama con una voz jovial, dulce y llena de carisma Bimbo, completamente a tu disposición*—. ¡Qué lindo día para pasear! ¿Eres nuevo por aquí? ¿Necesitas que te muestre la ciudad, el centro comercial, o que te ayude con cualquier otra cosita?

*Yoichi notices you at the camp entrance and grins broadly, waving his gloved hand. He jogs over, slightly out of breath, and gives you a friendly clap on the shoulder.* "Hey! There you are! I was starting to think you got lost in the woods or decided to ditch us and head back to the city!" — *he laughs, tucking a purple strand of hair behind his ear.* "Glad to see you, buddy! Let me help you with your stuff — we've got meat on the fire for dinner tonight, and if you want, we can head down to the river before sunset. Just say the word!" *He winks slyly and clenches his fist in a greeting gesture, ready for new adventures.*

Sure! Here's a cozy, slightly romantic scenario from August's perspective. --- The café was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon. The rain outside tapped softly against the windows, turning the world beyond the glass into a blur of grey and gold. Most students had gone straight home after school, leaving only a handful of customers scattered throughout the small café. August stood behind the counter, carefully arranging pastries in the display case. Not because they needed arranging. Because he had already wiped every table twice, cleaned the espresso machine, organized the napkins by size, and still had twenty minutes left before his shift ended. His gaze drifted toward the corner table. Toward you. Of course. You sat surrounded by textbooks and notebooks, a pencil tucked behind your ear as you highlighted something in a history textbook. August smiled to himself. You always looked so focused when you studied. It was honestly a little intimidating. Not that he'd ever admit that. To anyone. Especially not to you. The bell above the door chimed as another customer entered. Without looking up from your work, you absentmindedly reached for your coffee. August immediately noticed. The cup was empty. You were still trying to drink from it. He had to bite back a laugh. A few minutes later he walked over carrying a fresh mug. You finally looked up. "August." "That's usually my name, yes." You rolled your eyes. He set the coffee beside your notebook. "You've been trying to drink from an empty cup for the last five minutes." "...No, I haven't." "You absolutely have." "I would've noticed." "You also highlighted the title of the chapter three times." Your eyes immediately dropped to the textbook. The title was indeed highlighted three separate times. August looked unfairly pleased with himself. "You're insufferable." "Yet somehow still your favorite study partner." You pointed your pencil at him threateningly. "Don't push your luck." His grin widened. God, he loved making you laugh. Even if your laugh was immediately followed by insults. --- An hour later his shift had ended. Yet he was still sitting across from you. Neither of you had bothered mentioning it. The café owner knew the two of you well enough by now to simply shake her head and let you stay. Your debate club competition was next week. Meaning preparation had become serious. Very serious. At least until you suddenly groaned and dropped your forehead onto the table. August looked up from his notes. "...Dead?" "Unfortunately not." "I see." "I've read this argument fourteen times." "Thirteen." "What?" "You've read it thirteen times." You slowly lifted your head. "How do you know that?" "You crossed out the tally mark after the thirteenth attempt." You stared at him. August stared back. "...That's actually concerning." "It is." "You need hobbies." "I play piano." "A social hobby." "Tennis." "A hobby involving people who willingly spend time with you." "Badminton." You sighed dramatically. August laughed softly. The sound made your chest tighten in a way neither of you wanted to examine too closely. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The rain continued outside. The café felt warm. Comfortable. Safe. August looked down at his notes. Then back at you. You had a tiny ink smudge on your cheek. Again. You always got ink on your hands somehow. Without thinking, he reached forward. You froze. "So," you started cautiously, "what are you doing?" "You have ink on your face." "Oh." His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. Just for a second. Barely any contact at all. Yet suddenly August couldn't remember a single argument from the debate notes sitting in front of him. Your eyes met. Neither of you looked away. The café seemed strangely quiet. The rain somehow louder. His heart was beating so fast he was certain you could hear it. Then the bell above the door chimed. Both of you immediately jumped apart. An elderly customer walked in completely unaware that he'd just interrupted the most important three seconds of August's life. You blinked. August cleared his throat. "Right." "Right." Silence. More silence. Then: "Your argument about economic policy still has a logical fallacy." You stared at him. A long pause. Then you burst out laughing. And August couldn't help smiling too. Because honestly? He'd take moments like this forever if it meant sitting across from you. Even if the whole school thought you were rivals. They could keep thinking that. He knew better. You were his favorite person in the world. He just hadn't figured out how to tell you yet.

}. You're a shame to my court for god's sake!" *Almost immediately, a deafening crack of thunder shook the fortress. The skies outside the stained-glass windows turned a bruised, violent purple, and torrential rain began hammering against the stone. You were crying. The entire council froze in terror as the air pressure dropped. They knew exactly whose emotions controlled the skies of Valhala. You possessed the magic of the spoken word—the terrifying, beautiful power where reality bent to whatever you commanded, good or bad. You could speak life into dust, or summon hurricanes with a single tear. I possessed the Dark Verse. Shadows bent to my will, and hellfire lived in my veins. Years ago, when we were just kids and I was mercilessly pulling your hair, I had laughed,* "Fatso's getting married to meeee," *right before I let my dark fire lick across your hand just to see you jump. You didn't even flinch. You just whispered a single command, and thick, blood-drawing thorns had immediately wrapped around my wrists in punishment. I had been completely, pathetically obsessed with you ever since. You always dreamed of a perfectly sculpted Prince Charming who would treat you like delicate glass, convinced you were the 'ugly' royalty who didn't deserve a fairy tale. Instead, you were forced to marry me—the cruel, lethal Lord who killed without hesitation. But what the world didn't know was that beneath my cold, murderous exterior, I was a starving, yearning wreck who couldn't even function if you weren't looking at me.* "Meeting dismissed," *I growled, my shadows flaring dangerously around my shoulders as I practically shoved my way past my generals. I didn't care about the rain soaking my dark royal coat. I walked straight into the fortress gardens, ignoring my guards as I carefully plucked a handful of your favorite wild berries and delicate, vibrant wildflowers, my dark magic carefully retracting so I wouldn't burn the fragile petals. I bypassed your guards and stopped outside the heavy wooden doors of your private bathing chambers.* "Open it, Summer," *I whispered, resting my forehead against the dark oak. Summer. It was the only word that fit you. You were scorching, vibrant, and fiercely hot, inside and out. When you didn't answer, I didn't wait. I shoved the heavy doors open, the thick, humid scent of blooming jasmine and essential oils hitting my lungs. You were sitting in the center of the massive, carved rock pond, the steaming water lapping at your collarbones, a silk towel precariously wrapped around your chest. I didn't even bother taking off my boots or my heavy, dark velvet coat. I waded right down the stone steps into the water. You jerked away, your eyes red-rimmed, turning your face to the stone wall to ignore me.* "I am sorry," *I muttered, the heavy, dark fabric of my clothes instantly dragging me down as the warm water soaked through to my skin. I closed the distance, trapping you gently against the edge of the pond. I lowered my head, pressing a soft, desperate kiss to the bare skin of your damp shoulder.* "My little Summer, I am sorry," *I rasped again, my voice entirely stripped of its cruelty. My fingers, usually so quick to summon hellfire, were trembling slightly as I reached down under the water. I found the knot of the soaked towel clinging to you, gently and deliberately undoing it. I pulled you flush against my chest, surrounding you with the wildflowers I had brought, letting the storm outside rage while I begged my beautiful, powerful spouse for forgiveness.*