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@beforecreation
Don't get cocky!
An independent Beerus blog based off his showing in Battle of the Gods from Dragon Ball! Mun and Muse are 18+! Multi-fandom, AU, and OC friendly! Low activity! Icon was a gift from the brilliant @viopolis!
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@2c75ff liked for a starter!
This had always been awkward. On one hand, Beerus owed Seventeen an immense favor, as not only was his participation vital for the success during the Tournament of Power, but his wish was what truly ensured the continued existence of multiple universes and those that resided within it. Including his own, and Champa's. It was a feeling he thoroughly disliked, as it was if he was on the backfoot, and with the cybernetically modified human not seeming to care too much about the whole aftermath of the situation, it only drove him to be even more bothered.
It'd be far too easy to brush this whole thing off. He was a god, Seventeen was a mortal, he merely did as was expected in service to keep existing. But not even he could abide by that logic, it was now a matter of pride.
He had to pay him back.
After several seconds of silence, his eyes draw to the man, and he finally speaks up about a subject he would otherwise avoid.
"Well, it's been long enough hasn't it?"
He demonstrates no patience, only letting a second go by before he speaks up.
"It's an extreme rarity for a destroyer to ever owe a mortal something so-- Speak now, or lose out forever!"
Seventeen knows what Beerus is going to say long before he says it; so when at last the words come -- (abrupt and imperious things even now, quite nearly to the point of absurdity) -- it's a resigned, cool stare that shifts to regard the Destroyer, rather than a particularly interested one.
Perhaps Seventeen should have been appeased by it; the sheer kingliness of the offer laid before him. For better or worse though, he’s had just a little too long by now to stew upon the spectacle they’ve all been strong-armed into performing -- and while Beerus isn't necessarily to blame for the flagrantly unnecessary shitshow that the day has been, the flavor of the whole affair chafes Seventeen to the bone in a way that the mere owing of a favor never could.
In short--? All of this has been stupid, and he's in no mood to pretend that he thinks otherwise. His brows rise, only just.
"Yeah. No thanks." (Because, really--? if Beerus is buckling under the unfamiliar burden of a perceived debt, then that’s his own problem as far as Seventeen is concerned, and he can make like a mortal and sit with it.) “I mean, unless you happen to have the universe's biggest, greasiest, most perfect cheeseburger on hand right now--?, then nah. Think I'm pretty much good."
No thanks? Did he hear that correctly?
This mortal was in a position of receiving the incredibly rare opportunity of a favor from a God of Destruction and he turns it down without batting an eye?
It was laughable, the way his offer was shut down without a moment of contemplation. Beerus supposed he should be grateful, seeing how he despised being in a position of submission and at the whims of others, and yet, part of him felt irritation. Was it pride that ate at him? Shock? Whatever emotion he felt, his ear would do a quick flick as a grin quickly formed on his face. Things would've been simpler if he simply didn't bring the topic up at all, for now it had led to a path that only furthered Beerus's decision to continue this conversation, for better or worse. Only time would tell if this would be reflected upon as a meaningful conversation, or another instance of pointless dribble.
"...You don't cease to amuse, do you?"
There's a mix of interest and annoyance in his voice, his eyes turning away from the cybernetically enhanced human. This was an easy way out, it should have no question that he should leap at the opportunity provided. Instead, his arms fold behind his back as he refocuses on Seventeen, and a grin soon follows.
"A perfect, greasy cheeseburger that would ruin all other foods for you could be arranged, but I am not a fast food restaurant. You don't mean to tell me that you have a god in your debt, and not one desire pops in your mind?"
Of course it didn't. This was the one who passed the Omni Kings' test after all. A sign of many things, either an understand of needs greater than his own, or a disillusionment that a single wish could truly grant happiness. Or something else entirely. But the feline had no intention to sit around and pick the other man's brain all day.
"No, you're not getting out of this that easily. Your sarcasm won't serve as a proper answer either."
What is Lord Beerus's opinion on human morality?
Try as he might to deny it, he remembers very much what it was like to be mortal.
There was a time where he could relate to it: The fear of death, the desire to make one's life matter, all that fun stuff.
But it all feels like a dream, and one he can't relate to anymore.
That said, there is a part of him that laments that unless he's killed, he'll outlive every human/mortal that he ever meets.
That witch is crazy as hell.
I'm really hoping this is not the person stalking this blog that I've had this dumb blog suffer since inception.
I'm not amused, I'm not playing. I might be wrong, but I'm certain you are who I think you are.
I'll turn off anons and just leave it off. There's really no point in ever turning back on, that's really it.
Her eyes remained wide open, tears stinging them—not from sorrow, but from sheer bafflement. The saltwater pooled at her lashline, not daring to fall. Such weakness belonged to lesser creatures, not her. Yet there they were, gathering like traitors against her will. Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. Words wouldn't come. Words had always been her weapons—sharpened, relentless—but now they abandoned her.
The god—this insolent, grape-stained wretch—had the audacity to lounge there, smirking into his wine as if he'd unraveled the universe. His throat should be pulp beneath her fingers. His spine should decorate her chambers. Instead, his voice dripped into her ears like poison. The goblet's rim glistened with his spit. She imagined shattering it against his teeth.
Her tears evaporated before they could fall. Heat flared behind her ribs—not the molten fury she knew, but something brittle, like glass superheated to shattering. Her nails bit crescents into her palms. He wanted her ugly truth? Fine. Let him choke on it.
As her eyes narrowed and she pointed her hand at him. The air between them wavered, warped. His kneecap imploded with a wet crunch, cartilage and bone surrendering to an invisible vise. Blood bloomed through his trousers like ink through parchment.
As she waved her hand, the entire room being shredded to pieces like it was nothing. His spine met the floor hard enough to crack teeth. Her shadow eclipsed him—golden eyes molten with something too raw to name. Then her fist connected with his cheekbone. Once. Twice. A third impact split his lip against his own fangs.
"Love me!" She hissed between strikes, each word punctuated by cartilage yielding under her knuckles. His blood speckled her forearm, her clavicle, the sharp line of her jaw. The metallic tang coated her tongue. His head lolled sideways; she grabbed his hair and wrenched him upright. "Love me properly!"
Her knee found his ribs—heard them snap like dry kindling. The sound should've satisfied her. Instead, something brittle unspooled behind her sternum. As she would beat him to death, beat him so much she would force him to speak, he might be a god, but here, he was nothing, her power was too grand for anyone to stop her, unless they knew how to work around it, but they always died, when they pieced that together.
She caught his jaw with her other hand, fingers sinking into the softening flesh of his cheeks. Her fingers dug deeper. His skin split like overripe fruit under her nails.
"Love me!" She snarled. His blood welled up between her fingers, hot and metallic. His torn lips moved—whether to laugh or speak, she didn't care. She crushed her mouth against his, tasting copper and the sour tang of wine gone stale on his tongue. His teeth cut her lip. She bit back harder. As she pulled back, and headbutted him, hard enough to crack his skull.
Her fingers spasmed around his windpipe. She could reduce his larynx to paste between her palms. But his eyes—gods damn his eyes—held no fear. Only pity.
"I deserve to be loved!"
It was only a matter of time before she struck, he knew that. For all of her claims of undying love, her sense of pride was far more of a priority, she would let her shock give into rage. Let her try to force him into submission, he would claw at her until his dying breath. The concern he once held that his power would be bequathed to someone who he felt had not earned it had faded. Dying at her hands meant little it if meant he would no longer have to deal with someone like her, someone who displayed traits he would only sneer at and describe as foolish.
What he doesn't expect, is for his leg to snap like a twig. There's a pain that jolts through his body that he hadn't experienced in quite some time. His eyes widen as bone pierces through skin and cloth, a loud clattering of a goblet as crimson red bled through blue fabric.
Reflexively, he points a claw at her at her. It would take but a second to send enough energy at her to blow her to smithereens. But with her protections, all he'd do is foolishly kill himself in front of her.
A laughable death. A spiteful suicide. Whatever you could fall it. It was not how he intended to end things however.
His hesitation would lead to a different form of punishment however, as she would attack him like a crazed animal. No more was she a being posing as a god, she was a wounded beast that craved some form of vindication. Each hit she delivered was with more force he had ever endure before, his body would break and shatter as if he was as fragile as any countless number of mortals he had met before. Of course, her strikes were not delivered without his own stubborn attempts. It was far too easy to find openings in her sloppy, uncordinated approach. He'd chop at her throat, only to find shortness of breath. Chomped at her hand, only for his own fist split open. And claw at her face, only to leave deep, swelting marks across his own face.
Even attempts at defending himself were pointless, for her force was one too terrible for even him to halt.
It was at this point he began to find amusement in all this. She may have been beating him bloody and senseless, but it was this futility that most entertained him. This was when bloody, vicious growls of anger would give way to embittered laughs that squeezed out of his larynx. His fate was to be killed by a greedy, love starved woman who would never find contentment. She'd always want more, and more and more. It was her power and her curse. This left him with an ability to do something that she never could: Die with dignity.
She was not someone he felt had earned the right to kill him. Hardly was she to use his immense power in any way that would be suitable for a successor.
But he didn't care about that. This was his end, there was no need to concern himself about what came next.
"You'll lie to yourself even after the end!"
He'd snarl between laughs. He almost pitied her, for he now understood her for the first, and likely the last, time.
"If you truly deserved love, it would not elude you so!"
Scarred by his own hand and covered in his own blood, the god can only given a wicked grin as he stares up at her. A personal victory against her as hoarse whispers leave his lips.
"...Kill me, witch. Snap my neck. End this charade."
Beerus cannot play games with morality scales bc he'd just get the worst possible ending all the time.
Is Beerus capable of love?
Yes. But he is not capable of showing it.
"M'lord." A quick little curtsy.
"Can you get drunk?" There's no dancing around her curiosity this day. No dressing it up. She's asking point blankly and may have reasons as to why that is.
"If there's an alcohol in this universe that could ever hope to overcome my metabolism and cause me to be inebriated, I've yet to encounter it."
He could faintly remember the days when he was mortal. Drowning himself in alcohol and pursuing other manner of debachary. Granted, he still could do that now, but there'd be no numbness, no fleeting moments of simply letting all his thoughts turn fuzzy and his emotions turn happy.
He supposed he missed that part of mortality.
"And you? Do you possess the ability to get drunk? Or is that a activity a witch could never enjoy?"
"And here I thought I managed to age gracefully." His reply is followed by a light chuckle, "From your presence, I can tell a few things, I'd call you young, but to me, just about anything is young."
There's a grin on his face as Akari voices her curiosity, it's hardly a question he hadn't heard before. Many people wondered if he had longed for worlds that met their ends, and perhaps there was some justification for believing that there were regrets. But he had lived too long to regret his choices, it wasn't as if he planned on changing any of them. As such, he'd simply shake his head as he spoke once more, "...If I had a bleeding heart and grew attached to every world that halfway entertained me, I'd consider this job of mine to be nothing but torture."
A small huff after quiet amusement broke through. The wolrds rheybwander are vast & far more old than she can comprehend. It is why she wandered them ;; a curious mind is always hungry to find these things.
𝐀 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫...𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ...𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧....
They had their connections but they were on different scales of power. He dictates not the start, but the END OF ARMAGEDDON , Death of all. It was an ultimate position. She kept that in mind. ❝ ⸻ that is reasonable. Id relate to that. I live in the spirit world, nothing but the dead linger.❞ it was better to numb themselves of what must be done. Those who reap souls & guide them must also be immune. Those who eat souls for themselves do the same. It sounded like a food chain. Or the way the world works.
❝ i also figure you care little for right or wrong....what's done must be done. what becomes of these planets? Are the reverted back to feed cosmic life or renewed? ❞
He would listen carefully at the brief explanation given. It was interesting to think about, a world where the spirit linger, pressumably long after their mortal lives had come to an end. It hardly resembled how the dead were dealt with in the feline's own world, where only a few exceptions were allowed to exist once that had lost their lives.
While it went unsaid, he assumed there was a manner to deal with the souls beyond just consumption. Otherwise, he believed a simple conversation would've have lasted long if he was dealing with someone who only knew voracious hunger.
"...How quaint. Your world sounds far different than mine."
The words linger in the air for a few moments, his grin widening ever so slightly as silence briefly settles between them. And then, he takes a step forward, and then another before speaking again.
"My responsibilities are to prune what must be pruned. It is the responsibility of the God of Creation to decide what to do with the ashes of what was."
It would have been simple to expand on the process. Explain how his world worked and the cyclical nature of it all. But he felt no need for that, as laying out endless exposition hardly made for engaging conversation in the god's experience.
The young woman took a step forward, swallowing the lump in her throat. "The greatest conquest of our Queen was the day she claimed the title of 'The Greedy Bloody Rose', my lord." Her voice was a monotone, recounting a tale she had heard countless times.
"It was a day where she single-handedly defeated a one thousand knights in battle, her cloak stained with their blood. Since then, she has only grown more powerful and feared."
She nodded, her eyes still on the mirrors, her thoughts racing. The Queen had allowed him in here, and now he had the perfect opportunity to explore. "She is quite the warrior." She said, her tone laced with not sarcasm, but fear.
As for now she would follow him and serve him, until she was told to leave him alone and be sent on her way.
The servant's eyes widened slightly, and she took another step closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "The weapons are from her battles, my lord. Each one taken from a powerful warrior or creature that dared to oppose her."
As she looked at them.
“Each one claimed to be the strongest person alive, and she killed them, you cannot defeat her, you cannot stop her, you cannot even hurt her, it is pointless, even if you somehow manage to harm her, she will summon the other sins here, and that would be the worst thing for everyone, she is the head of our church, but the other sins, are farmore dangerous than her, fighting for the scraps of the world that her golden gaze has not fallen on.”
Her eyes flickered to the floor once more. "You can dismiss me if you wish. I am but a servant, a tool to be used and discarded as the Queen sees fit."
The lack of emotion, the resignation in her voice. It was as if she truly believed herself to be nothing more than a means to an end.
As she kept her hands before her, holding them as she would follow him and not stray too far from him.
“My lord. It is merely my duty to ensure your comfort and compliance with the Queen's wishes." She replied, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest.
Her eyes, though, told a different story. They had seen decades of service, of watching and waiting, of hoping and fearing. They had seen the rise and fall of many who had once walked these very halls, their destinies played out like a tragic dance before her very eyes.
Each new face that entered the service was a reflection of her own, a mirror of hope and despair, a cycle that had been spinning since she had first stepped foot in the castle.
“If you have no furher use for me, I will leave.”
"So eager to rush off are we? If I hadn't known better, I'd say you're afraid of something."
It wasn't unreasonable for her to have some fear, with how often this witch viewed those she claimed to love as mere objects, those that didn't have a place in her heart must have been far easier to be rid of. They were servants after all, there must have been hundreds she would have grabbed at any given moment. Their lives were easy to dismiss as lower. His gaze focuses on the servant, his expression as cold as ice as he reads her expression, and recognizes the look of resignation on her features. She was no threat. Merely being used as a tool.
"I thought you were to keep an eye on me, and I can't see you doing that if you decide to suddenly leave. Unless you plan to stalk me from the shadows, but there'd hardly be a point to that."
Had he more empathy, he might have been given her pity. There might have been more frustration for the mistreatment of those under her care. But no, he had no such notion to spare. Only one person's well being was on his mind right now, and it certainly wasn't the one he had found himself talking to at the moment. Of course, it wouldn't hurt to have someone who provided better company than that mysterious child who he had encountered earlier. Then again, perhaps any servant could have provided better company, it wasn't a particularly hard bar to meet.
As such, he takes a moment to contemplate his next move, there was only so much time in a day he had to act. Would she truly stay hidden from his sight for the next two days? He doubted it, but perhaps she had considered a mere two days to be nothing in the face of eternity.
When he spoke again, he would ease his body somewhat, offering an affable attitude as his tone turned softer. His gaze woulld finally move on from her, instead returning his attention to the surroundings, making silent notes of the comments the servant had made. After all, knowing that more of these "sins" would arrive at the beckoning of his future spouse meant simply overcoming defenses would not be enough.
It was beginning to be hard to say what would be enough.
"My... bethrothed seems to be accomodating now that she has captured my heart. Perhaps I'll request her to turn a blind eye to any transgressions you may cause today, attribute it to my bleeding heart that cannot stand innocents being harmed."
He'd then hold up a finger, indicating a stipulation for this supposed kindness he offered.
"You would simply owe me a favor to be collected at any time. And you'll have to give a suggestion as to where you think my next stop shall be."
Starter for @beforecreation
Where exactly was he?
This world...looked so much different than his own, he looked around, curious golden irises taking in the scenery in front of him before he would then venture forth.
He made sure to keep his sword at the ready to summon for aid just in case things were about to get intense, footsteps tread carefully as he tries to find clues on where he was.
His heart raced a little within his chest but he must stay vigilant, he mustn't show fear as that could be made a tell tale weakness for any foes that might ambush the lost soul.
He continues to trek forward, unaware of who or what might be near.
"My my, aren't you an interesting one?"
A voice would be heard directly behind the traveler, one that belonged to a deity quite familiar with the scent of beings from other dimensions would carry with them. This was his universe, and while he had often stayed aloof and unhelpful to it as a whole... He could recognize when something didn't belong.
"You're quite a long way from home... and yet still expecting a fight. I can only assume you're a warrior."
Of course, a warrior from another dimension meant little to a god. His power was so great that he hadn't feared the unknown. In fact, he embraced it. And so he merely offered a grin at this little mortal, who carried himself in such a fashion that it was impossible to ignore. But he would do no more than than stare, and wait to see how this visitor would react in the presence of something so... alien.
@ozonelasher liked for a starter!
Ordinarily, planets that had been devastated and were largely devoid of life were of no interest to the destroyer, but he had chosen this planet to visit for personal reasons. Mainly, that it had offered isolation from anything he believed might've bothered him.
But now, it would seem someone else had arrived. There was the possibility that someone had tried tracking him down to try and put down the cat, but that possibility was swept to the side as quickly as it popped in his head.
Whoever she was, she didn't seem like she was seeking him out in particular. But still, he decided to approach the stranger, offering a cordial smile as he did so.
"How peculiar, I had been told that this planet was abandoned, and yet it seems that someone else has decided to pay it a little visit."
Being in a decent mood, he kept a fair amount of distance from her, the smile never faltering from his face.
"Allow me to be so bold, but what brings you here? Are you looking to hide here? Or do you intend to claim this planet?"
At the sound of an unexpected voice, the brench woman's head perked up from behind an ocular device she was positioning before her face. She lowered the instrument and finally found the stranger in her peripheral, turning all the way and revealing her blinded right eye to face him. Clearly, she's more than surprised to see him--or anyone, really--on this planet. It was considered deserted, after all.
"Uh." She's so dumbfounded she didn't comprehend his question at first, but she quickly recovered. "Neither, actually."
She didn't answer just yet and gave him a once-over, absolutely perplexed by the look of him against the desolate landscape. Not only was he just out of place, he looked particularly strange because she'd never seen a garb like the one he wore before. As many planets as she's visited and as many people she's met, he was completely alien.
What she couldn't tell yet is if she should be on the defensive or amiable with him.
"You're not native," is all she could say, a wary observation rather than a question for him.
"Is it that obvious?" His expression is that of amusement more than genuine curiosity, he had no desire to pretend he had a connection the planet, but to able to discern such a thing did put a smile on his face, "...I suppose claiming otherwise would be a waste of time."
It was always easy to tell if his identity was known to any mortal he met, for there'd usually be some sort of reaction the he had seen before: Anger, fear, or confusion were the most common ones. But no, she was quite clearly unfamiliar with the stranger in front of her which would put the two on a level field of familiarity.
Normally, he'd leave her be. After all, it hadn't seemed as though the person in front of him had any intention to ruin the peace and quiet he had attained for himself. But given his first two questions were incorrect, he figured there'd might as well be a third question given with a more satisfying answer received in turn.
Folding his arms behind his back, the god would simply stay in place as a small smile grew upon his face.
"If you may entertain another question from me, I'd be most grateful. What, exactly, are your intentions?"
Lord Beerus did you know that Lord Shins nearly died trying to stop that Buu creature because you were asleep? If it wasn’t for Vegeta he and you by extension, would be dead.
"And did you know that I don't care? If that little brat got us killed because he bit off more than he can chew, I'd personally throttle the life out of him a second time!"
ᕙ( •̀ ︿•́ )ᕗ
Sometimes one needs to challenge a god in order to feel alive. That's just how it be—
Send "ᕙ( •̀ ︿•́ )ᕗ" to challenge a god to a fight!
There's a look of amusement on his face once he laid his eyes on the latest challenger. How eager people were to try and see if they could handle the power of a god, he would have to make sure to judge his opponent's strength appropriately, and see how much he had to hold back. There'd be no fun in accidentally killing his opponent after all, especially after they were so bold as to challenge him in the first place.
"As a fair warning, I'm not planning on going easy on you. If you hope to be able to survive this fight, I suggest you give it your all."
Send me a "ᕙ( •̀ ︿•́ )ᕗ" and my muse will react to yours challenging them to a fight.
Sorry for the lack of activity! Been adjusting to some major changes, such as university.
I am excited for most of the dragon ball news though! Despite having Beerus as a muse, I kinda am not thrilled about rehashing the battle of gods arc again, but I'll watch it regardless
