The Emperor

Meet Frieza, an absolute menace to society.

Got 16 years of Camp Chippewa treatment in Earth's hell.

Hides a lot of pent-up rage behind his smile.

Eloquently trolls everyone. Equally.

Whoever is housed with him: I'm so sorry mate.

Oh you know he's going to play along for a bit. /copium

APP / STATS / RULES / ISOLA

🍓// Not so much an allergy or severe intolerance, but as someone comfortable with low-gravity and cold air, he finds Earth-like atmospheres rather revolting. He can easily handle the temperature changes, but breathing in highly oxygen-rich atmospheres feels slightly more labored to him than in other worlds that would be downright hostile to humans.

His colossal pride allows little room for weaknesses and his resilient physique backs that up. Even if he finds the atmosphere on Earth (or Isola for that matter) an inconvenience, he will not allow it to be a visible issue. He may call it disgusting every now and then though, just to be petty about it.

🍋// Frieza has a preference for nutrient-dense, high-protein prey. He goes for lean meats (often raw or barely seared) and mineral-rich fluids. His diet on Isola specifically would consist of mineral-rich beverages and crustaceans, occasionally collecting crabs on the beach for proteins. His metabolism is very efficient and he can go for weeks without eating if he has enough hydration and mineral intake.

He is very disciplined about maintaining his weight. His metabolism and alien physique help him to control it at ease too. But in the unlikely case of gaining or losing a considerable amount of weight? That would be intolerable and outrageous to Frieza. Upon weight-gain, he would undergo immense training and fasting until reaching his ideal weight again. In the case of the other, he would increase his hunt for crabs and consume a considerable amount of them to gain weight again.

🍈// To calm down, Frieza focuses on controlled breathing, tail coiling and uncoiling rhythmically, and mentally replaying the scenario until he finds a way to twist it in his favor. Imaging how he will destroy or humiliate the source of his frustration later also helps him to restore his smug composure. When alone, he allows himself to indulge the anger more, even if only briefly, before methodically extinguishing it.

Frieza is very organized and makes sure his residence mirrors his desire for absolute perfection. However, for him it isn't isn’t about domestic neatness but absolute control. He thrives on order, hierarchy, and efficiency and he will have his servants keep everything orderly and clean for him. He also keeps his own appearance immaculate with not a speck of dirt on him (if he's not in the middle of a battle, anyway).

If someone else's mess is in a space he doesn’t care about, he will ignore it as long as it doesn't affect him (he will definitely mock them about it, though). But if it’s in his personal quarters or workspace, it will bother him deeply. It's like an affront, a breach of his authority. To him, disorder equals incompetence.

Frieza is almost pathologically resistant to outside influence. You would have to pry any confession like that out of his cold, dead hands, but one of those who manages to influence him in spite of his vast ego is without a doubt Goku. The reason why Frieza wants to become a better and stronger fighter is to defeat and humiliate Goku and Vegeta the way they defeated him. His deep hatred for them and Saiyans in general is a strong motivator that pushes him forward and over his limits.

And Goku in particular. On Namek, Frieza mocked Goku’s sense of honor, risking his life to repay debts. At the end, when Frieza was beaten and begged for mercy, Goku gave him some of his own energy so he could survive. Years later, during the Tournament of Power and their temporary alliance, he would actually 'repay his own dept' to Goku by giving him some of his power to fight on. And while Frieza ultimately did what he did for his own gain there, it is still glaringly obvious that Goku has left an impression on him. He did humble him in some ways, like taking victory no longer as an absolute given and resorting more to ice-cold calculations and deceptiveness to ensure he gets his way.

🌑 The area Frieza is stopping by next is called Archimedes Ward, with its architecture evoking the imagery of modern-day Greece to some residents. A reference that is mostly lost on the Emperor, though. He has acquired knowledge about Earth for strategic advantage and intellectual superiority, but its limited as far as its many different timelines goes.

Eventually, his steps take him into a broad street that cuts through the center of the ward, with a sheer endless amount of food stalls lining up on both sides. A passing pedestrian offhandedly calls it “Star Trail.”

It is crowded and noisy, and all kinds of lower beings linger about, waiting in front of stalls for greasy morsels, squatting on benches, unceremoniously stuffing their faces with local cuisine.

Frieza surveys the scene with a blank stare, his presence untouched by the chaos. That is until he notices a human child scurrying past him, carrying a tray with steaming food in its hands. What a shame it would be, if the brat couldn't enjoy that much anticipated greasy meal.

Without even turning his gaze, his tail flicks upward with sudden, effortless precision, thwacking the tray out of their hands. The food scatters across the ground, drawing a few stunned looks from people in close vicinity.

🌑 After having found his new accommodation devoid of any roommates to play with, exploring this place in its entirety seems like the next-best option to keep himself marginally entertained. It's distraction now that he desires after awakening in this humiliating nightmare.

How inconvenient and infuriating it is though, to either walk or making use of the rudimentary public transportation of those lesser monkeys to move between those places. He hates both with a burning resentment, yet walking is still the preferred option over sharing space with body-liquid-oozing peasants.

The Golden Ward is inevitably one of those places he ends up gracing with his presence. It is just such a shame he can't greet the citizens properly (by blowing half of the wards into smithereens). Alas, he will have to find other means of entertainment.

As he's leaving the Boardwalk area behind and steering closer towards the Crimson Lane, still bored out of his mind, he notices a commotion taking place not too far from him. And just as he gets closer, he notices quickly that he's not the only bystander watching those humans getting all exasperated over stolen belongings.

How trite. And yet he can't help having his interest slightly piqued by this other individual. Though, the bar of what's to be considered interesting is not all too high in a place like this, where everything appears just dull.

🌑 How peculiar. He has finally achieved the strength to absolutely humiliate these damn monkeys, only to wake up and find it all completely stripped from him again, just like that. Well, there is a pitiful sliver of power left, a ridiculous small part of it that would do nothing in the face of his enemies. It's really more insult to the injury.

And that toy scouter? Someone really thinks to be oh so funny. The toy cracks slowly in Frieza's hand as he takes it all in with dangerous silence. Not even his tail is moving, he is just standing there, staring at the wall of what's supposed to be his new home.

That is until a loud scream roars from deep within him. It is rage. Pure unbridled rage.

Frieza then proceeds to hurl his broken toy scouter against the wall before him because right now, there is not much else in his vicinity to take his anger out on. Just this damn house and that ridiculous toy.

However, he is aware that a vast variety of pathetic lifeforms scour all over this place. And he can't just lose his face like that, in front of those invertebrates. He won't give the instigators of this affront the pleasure to humiliate him even more, either. Oh no, he won't.

And just like that, with as fast as his wrath has overtaken him, he's regaining his composure. He is even forcing a smile back onto his facial features, one that could be easily mistaken for joy and amusement, when it really only hides that brooding rage underneath.

He glances at the key given to him, the one leading into this house. House 120, wasn't it?

If that's how it is going to be, then he will just play along for a little bit and see where this goes (not like he really has a choice anyway). He had been stuck in Earth's hell for 16 years, surrounded by nothing but tawdry cuteness and unbearable serenity, it can't be much worse than that.