change.

ind. multifandom multimuse. semi-private/selective. penned by haribo.

carrd.

it's been a few years and he still has a majority stranglehold on the writing brain cell

shin is in a bit of a weird spot when it comes to age, because when compared to most of his peers, he's still quite young. as an example, compare him to, say-- beerus, who is said to be hundreds of millions years old. one can argue varying experiences influence 'maturity' or a lack thereof, but as far as literal age goes, shin is very much so young.

He's flabbergasted at the accusation. Astounded really.

"You miserable brat, running your mouth about things you don't understand! You best hold that tongue of yours, unless you really want to piss me off!"

"...brat?"

he can't help but to laugh a little bit, and not derisively either; it's genuine amusement. (there is the distant thought that blatant amusement treads the line of some dangerous territory, so he does clear his throat and a flick of one eat before continuing further, albeit without entirely having lost the mirth.)

"i haven't heard that one in a while! how curious. but fuss not, lord beerus; i see nothing to be gained in much further elaboration. ..or.. taunting, as you may see it. which is fair, i suppose.

..having said that, i could easily say the same, you know. a lack of knowledge as to one another's endeavours does tend to lead to misunderstandings.

his voice trails off, and he heaves a light, slightly-dramatic sigh.

"no? my father was a very kind man. he never intentionally scared me. ...unless you're telling me yours is scary or something? which is..."

a pause, brief.

With one ask, try to elicit a strong emotional response from my muse

"...given that there is always the chance that my children will manage to outlive me, i would say: moderate. as one who has spent far more time alive than one of your kind ever could hope to, i am very aware of its passing. do not count me as some oblivious fool.

and time passing even after examples of humanity have passed does not mean they have made no impact. to assume otherwise is simply moronic. are there not courses in your schooling that focus on the actions of those that are typically long dead? cease your misery directed toward me and your lack of abilities to understand your own ways; it does not flatter you nor do you any favours.

aside from knowing that i will carry sorrow with me, i cannot say how i will think and feel, for these eventual deaths are not something i have experienced yet. to assume i will mimic behaviours you only know of because of your performative anger and false concern over the pain of one such as your strawman widow is truly pathetic.

your concern is not over how i may feel. it is over seeking out what you perceive as an emotional weakness and attacking it. you cry for what you deem monstrous to feel human, to display 'human emotions', then you attack for getting exactly what you want.

With one ask, try to elicit a strong emotional response from my muse

"of-.. of course i am. i think anyone in my position would be, especially if they've got a bond with their team. but they've all always been stubborn, you know, and i don't think any amount of talking from me could've convinced them to not follow me. i offered them an out, and most of them didn't take it.

i.. guess there's a selfish part of me that is glad i had company and support, but assuming i didn't care about anything that happened to them as a consequence of it is just.. untrue."

here, he pauses, rearranging himself so that he sits more formally, one leg crossed over the other as he props his head up with one hand. and when he speaks next, his voice is far more serious, far more inclined toward being frigid rather than heated in his annoyance.

"i can't read their minds, true. and maybe it's cowardly of me to say, but i believe that for the best. i would be.. concerned about ill thoughts and question worthiness toward more kind ones. besides, they all deserve the privacy of having their own space -- even if only in their heads here -- without me able to.. invade that.

i don't think they hate me, regardless of how i may feel about that either way. they may be my soldato, but they are their own people who deserve to think and feel however they do, forming their own opinions on my actions and how these actions, my very choices, have impacted their lives. if absolutely nothing else, the world owes them that.

and if they decide that they despise me for it all, departing from my life, so be it. if they decide they want to stay, then i'll welcome that. but either way, they'll get the chance to be their own people, make their own choices.

it both had and hadn't been surprising, how swiftly he had adapted to the sight and found of little ones travelling about in their apartment, and with that had also come the ability to constantly be aware of where they are and to avoid stepping on them in turn.

it was second nature by this point. though his eye hadn't initially been solely on minerva, he always knew she was in the room, already so familiar with her sounds as he is. but it's more-so when he hears determined little noises that he looks up to fix his gaze on her and her alone, luckily able to witness not only her walking, but walking to him! and succeeding!

it's impressive and wondrous!! he's so thankful that he got to witness it, the whole ordeal filling his chest with a sensation not unlike the fluttering of butterfly wings, almost-giddy as it makes him to see baby girl accomplish such a big thing!

oh, how he wants to scoop her up in his arms and praise her -- but he doesn't want her to feel like her accomplishment is being understated...

ultimately, he begins to crouch, mindful of her fingers and feet, finally offering her a hug when he's (comparatively) much closer to her eye level.

to him, the added weight is of course nothing, and he knows he could simply leave it at that if he wanted to. but... if he's already putting on a little bit of a show...

star appears to almost relax.. before he suddenly flexes harder, tensing the muscles suddenly enough to actually lift mortem just-so -- certainly more than enough to give him the time to swiftly turn around, with her hold 'landing' now on his opposite arm instead, the flash of a whirl allowing him to exchange that on one arm for another comfortably.

Send me a “👀 + a question” and my muse has to answer honestly!

"you would like an answer, wouldn't you."

a statement more than a question, it leaves his mouth before he can stop himself, his tone less genuinely irritable and more mildly embarrassed at sort-of having been 'caught'.

it wasn't an attempt at staring, honestly -- he simply can't help the sheer height he holds over others, not his instinctive want to keep an eye on those he favours, thus resulting in his gaze often wandering to caesar.

which, naturally, meant that from his perspective, he could.. you know... it's- hardly something he could help, especially with the ways caesar kept moving himself, bending this or that way as he went to pick something up, put it down, an arm directed here or there...

"i.. did not mean to. rather--" he continues quickly, already aware of the vague embarrassment welling up in his chest, voice having risen in pitch juuust a fraction for a moment. "i could not.. help the view i had. it is difficult, when even the tallest of humans cannot reach my height."

a pause, brief. he can't just- not retaliate at all!!