What does your muse think of mine?

@pr0tur0:

he's a fucking freak; a MONSTER that should not exist; an intelligent beast bound by NO ONE, not even the gods, whatever the hell they are supposed to be. cruel and resolute—those attributes make for a horrifically powerful combination. i would know. i've noticed your affliction. did you think that it would go unseen by my keen eye? certainly not after what you saw not all that long ago. you may not have all of the puzzle pieces, but the pieces that you do possess create a picture that you understand. you know what lies behind my carefully crafted facade—and that notion is a mutual one. we aren't so different, you and i. isn't that terrifying?

They aren't all that different at all, and that is precisely why Proton cannot understand why the admirable faux Turo had no interest in knowing him better! After all, this is a terribly lonesome world, even when you have people who care for you-- who can actually understand him though? Not a mortal, organic man. Proton knows this deeply, what it is like to be made of data that could no longer be controlled by a host.

Data without a master is a dangerous thing.

Neither of their masters were present.

Yet you call him a monster, a freak, all of the things that you are yourself.

Do you point this out because of self-hatred? Or do you speak of it's existence to acknowledge the unfortunate shared reality?

It is quite terrifying for more than one entity like this to exist.

i'm nut a champiun, yveltal is my chusen but it's in a funny way, i've died like twenty times, my parents were all ., a villain wants tu use me as a battery, aanndddd bureas is a shiny :) alsu terappy.

paldea, koraidon and a weird turtle underground, area zero, absentee mother and a bad divorce, an ai of a dead professor, i own like one shiny,

the paldean league. i have a shiny miraidon and the rest of my primary paradox pokémon are also shiny. my creator's mother died when he was only a toddler. i watched my creator get killed by my shiny miraidon and i was forced to attack children against my own will. shall i continue

@pr0tur0 asked: offers him a tera orb, completely unprompted.

It'd be rude to refuse a gift, especially one coming seemingly apropos of nothing. Lupin would usually be excited by the prospect of getting some new, shiny thing to boast while his interest quickly waned and shifted to who he could sell it to. He would have been excited by this, too, once upon a time... But that was before he'd discovered that Tera crystals, Tera orbs, Tera everything was a dime a dozen in Paldea and worth less than the loose copper change in his pocket.

No one worth their salt as a collector would be willing to part with any real money for something so easily acquired, and the great Lupin the Third didn't deal in cheap exchanges.

But a Tera orb has little other use for someone who doesn't battle.

Still, as he holds the ball up against the sunlight, he can't help but notice the crystal inside of the orb. It catches the light in a million different ways, each ray shining with its own, distinct colour. It's no diamond, but he can still think of one particular lady this would look stunning sitting against the throat of. Or as a ring, perhaps... Something one of a kind that'll put the entirety of the Harry Winston catalogue to shame.

@pr0tur0 ❝ go on. stab me. do it. ❞

@pr0tur0 asked: HERE IT COMES.

it could indulge him, and it has in the past, generously allowing lupin to worm his way out of its trappings and RUN AWAY like the lowly little thief he was, generously allowing him to have the last laugh even after having gotten on the professor's last nerve, but THE FUTURE IS COMING ON.

it discards its lab coat as it chases after him, freeing itself from the drag against the wind, and it comes at him FAST, calculating its every move before it even acts, and when it lunges for him, it does not miss, and the two men tumble together for a moment before the android gains the UPPER HAND.

feigning breathlessness, its chest heaves up and down as it straddles the thief, pinning his hands above his head at his wrists with a single strong hand. despite its feigned breaths, it has not broken a sweat during the entirety of the chase. its hair, traditionally swept back with a generous helping of gel, has become tousled, and some loose strands fall in front of its intense eyes as it snarls in a low, husky voice, ❝ i have you now. ❞

It's strange, the things Lupin notices when pinned under people. The light plays across their faces so much differently to how it does when they're upright, their features shadowed and sharpened. It makes them more attractive, in some ways: his eyes free to roam over their smaller details, intimate in a way vertical communication never quite is.

He's sure it's the same from the opposing perspective. He hopes so, anyway. Lupin is under no illusion about his personal appearance; he takes good care of himself, his grooming habits and wardrobe choices all chosen to align with a certain image. He's a gentleman thief; classy, timeless, no stranger to snuggling himself up against luxury's bosom. He's neither entirely masculine nor feminine, dancing along the line of androgyny in a way that makes it impossible for most to pin down his sex.

He knows: he's seen the databases.

He's seen how often that particular field is marked INCONCLUSIVE, right along with his first name and birthplace.

( It's fun, being a mystery-! )

At the very least, being stuck this close together means that it's able to smell him - faded Gitanes smoke and the Bleu de Chanel cologne he'd applied that morning. The smell only gets stronger as Lupin leans up, tilting his chin as though going in for a kiss. While not entirely unheard of— he's as slippery as a greased eel and prepared to use any method of escape —this time sees him halting just before their lips can connect. His are already curled into that familiar Cheshire cat smile, entirely too smug and self-satisfied for the position he finds himself in.

He struggles against that steely grip only to confirm that he is, indeed, stuck fast, and tries his best to ignore the bolt of heat that shoots up his spine in response. The little aroused shiver he doesn't suppress, however, letting the weight straddling his waist feel it reverberate through him.

Lupin sighs heatedly, the puff of air blowing against the loose strands of TUR0's hair.

subtle nsfw⠀—⠀ACCEPTING.

⠀turo's become a more frequent sight on the mountain as of late.⠀initially a man he's only seen the face of in news articles, lofty headlines a crown on a genius' head, nowadays he's one special visitor to the peaks he calls home, his weird toy delibird usually in tow.

⠀a part of him is honored, really, that the professor took an interest in this place—⠀in him, too.⠀but things snowball here, and chance meetings were known for turning to nights by the fire.

beneath the setting sun, it draws ever closer to the BLAZING CAMPFIRE. its silver body shines in the light; its wings spread apart and position themselves parallel to the fire, and it basks in it. the IRON MOTH lets out a series of electronic hums, its pixelated display flashes, and it closes its eyes as it basks in the BLAZE.

it pays no attention to the pokémon trainer close by.

The leaves woosh with the breeze of the forest, branches dancing against the wind. His firepit would too, flames briefly leaning to the right, to the left, and then back to the center again. He'd been amidst crafting his own s'more, crisp marshmallow crammed between two whole gram crackers, a smear of pecha berry jam sandwiched between the treat.

Red licks his pinky, looking off into the woods--the rest of his team had ran off into the woods, both to play and to retrieve extra kindling for the flame that evening. His charizard lays quietly on her back, tiny dinosaur arms hunched in the air as her tail softly twitches, fire type snoring.

It's comfortable; homey, even.

It's why Red's expression contorts into something serious, something stern, especially upon recognizing the silhouette mirrored in the light of his brilliantly crafted fire.

Janus--?!

...No.

Tight shoulders loosen as Red registers the Iron Moth, a familiar creature with a foreign personality, or lack thereof. He gulps, scanning the paradox pokemon up and down.

This was Viridian Forest. What was it doing here?

Instead of asking questions, he would glance over at his charizard, who had been continuously snoozing. Thank goodness that the moth lacked footsteps, or this could've gone horribly wrong.