Drop them stones pal.....or l might show you something you regret seeing😼
Thanks you guys for believing in my ability to cook your support have warmed my heart.
I know this is selfish of me to ask. But could you guys please leave a nice review so l know what are our general thoughts.
Regardless l appreciate y'all ♥️♥️♥️
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Whis stood at the tub's edge, staff in hand, expression serene as ever, having just delivered the bombshell report on Frieza's empire and the universe's suspiciously high mortal level.
Beerus's eyes narrowed, aura flickering purple with growing irritation.
"I've heard enough of this nonsense," he growled, voice rumbling like distant thunder.
He surged to his feet in one abrupt, dramatic motion — water cascading off his purple fur in rivers, tail lashing like an angry whip, sending bubbles flying everywhere like panicked confetti.
His **dingaling*" hung freely in the open air, swinging with the sudden movement like a pendulum of divine embarrassment.
A beat of absolute, mortified silence.
Beerus froze mid-stand, eyes widening in horror.
Whis was *still there*.
The angel's cheeks flushed a rare, deep crimson —his eyes darting sideways with exaggerated politeness, staff angled like a shield to block the view.
"My lord," Whis said, voice strained but still impeccably composed (though it cracked just a little at the end),
"that's… not appropriate behavior for a God of Destruction. Or anyone, really."
Beerus's ears flattened flat against his skull.
His face burned beneath the fur — a shade of red that clashed horribly with purple.
He sat back down **instantly** — a massive, cartoonish splash echoing like a thunderclap, water sloshing over the tub's edge in chaotic waves that soaked the marble floor and even splashed Whis's robes.
"LOOK AWAY, DAMN IT!" Beerus roared, voice cracking in pure feline mortification, tail curling protectively around his waist like a furry seatbelt as he sank lower until only his head and furious eyes remained above water.
Whis turned fully sideways — staff held high like a privacy screen — shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter that came out as a series of polite little coughs.
"Of course, my lord," Whis managed, voice wobbling. "Averting eyes immediately."
Beerus growled, sinking even lower, bubbles popping around his embarrassed snout.
"Set the coordinates to Frieza," he snarled, water rippling with his fury. "I've had *enough* of that lizard strutting around like he owns the place."
Whis bowed gracefully — still facing resolutely away, one hand subtly wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.
"At once, my lord."
The palace engines hummed to life with a deep, ominous thrum.
The God of Destruction — dripping wet, towel-less, dignity slightly dampened, and absolutely livid — was on his way.
Frieza had no idea what was coming.
A very awake, very embarrassed, very sleep-deprived cat-god with a grudge.
The universe was about to get clawed.
Hard.
---
Frieza sat upon the golden throne of Bucephalus, the vast chamber bathed in soft, regal light that danced across the marble floors and gilded walls.
The holographic displays hovered silently around him, showing tribute flows, planetary outputs, and the steady pulse of his empire — flourishing, efficient, unchallenged.
Before him, a low table groaned under the weight of Earth's finest delicacies.
Live animals had been shipped in stasis. They would be breed to make more — exotic beasts slaughtered fresh.
Plants harvested at peak ripeness. Spices in sealed vaults that preserved their fire.
Prime cuts of wagyu, kobe, foie gras. Vegetables glistening with dew.
And the chefs — five-star masters from Michelin palaces, "persuaded" with subtle threats to their families and lavish sums they couldn't refuse.
They stood at the edges now, heads bowed, hands clasped, as Frieza sampled their art.
He speared a piece of seared foie gras — buttery, melting, paired with a fig reduction that burst sweet and tart on his tongue.
Then a slice of sashimi — tuna so fresh it still carried the ocean's chill, dipped in wasabi that burned clean and bright.
A spoonful of truffle risotto — creamy, earthy, decadent.
Frieza chewed slowly, eyes half-closed, allowing himself the rare indulgence of pure sensory pleasure.
*Exquisite,* he thought, a faint, satisfied hum escaping his lips.
The chefs remained frozen, sweat beading despite the cool air.
But beneath the pleasure, a shadow gnawed.
Since that brief, uncontrolled burst of god-ki during Broly's training — the one that shattered limits and echoed across creation — Frieza had felt it.
A foreboding.
Not fear.
Frieza didn't do fear.
But unease — sharp, persistent, like a blade pressed to the back of his neck.
His sixth sense — enhanced by the dragon's wish — had become supernatural.
It prickled now, constant and insistent.
Like the old mortal saying: someone walking over your grave.
Or, in his case, someone thinking about you with murderous intent.
There weren't many beings in the universe who could trigger this.
Two, really.
Whis — the angel, ever-watchful, ever-amused.
And Beerus — the cat-god, lazy until provoked.
Frieza set down his fork.
His smile faded.
*If my hunch is correct…*
He glanced at the Two untouched glass of wine — centuries-old nectar-fruit vintage.
*Then I should enjoy this meal.*
*It might be my last peaceful one.*
The chefs shifted nervously.
Frieza picked up the fork again.
Took another bite.
Savoring it slowly.
Because if Beerus was coming…
The god would arrive hungry.
And Frieza intended to be ready.
The feast continued.
For now.
But the shadow grew longer.
++
500 seconds later.
++
Frieza set down his crystal goblet with deliberate calm, the deep crimson wine catching the chamber's light one last time before settling.
The air shimmered.
Two figures materialized in front of his throne — sudden, effortless, divine.
Beerus — purple fur pristine, tail swishing irritably, eyes narrowed in that familiar mix of boredom and menace.
Whis beside him — staff in hand, serene smile in place, as if popping into an emperor's private dining hall was the most natural thing in the universe.
Frieza gently wiped the corner of his mouth with a silk napkin, no urgency, no surprise.
He leaned back in his throne, red eyes gleaming.
"If it isn't our dear God of Destruction, Lord Beerus," he said smoothly, voice laced with just enough respect to be polite — and just enough amusement to be dangerous. "And his ever-humble attendant, the angel Whis."
He gestured to the table with an elegant wave.
"Please, have a seat. I was just enjoying a feast."
Beerus stared down at him, arms crossed, tail flicking.
"Ohhh, you were having a feast, huh?"
His gaze drifted to the table — two seats prepared.
Two plates, perfectly arranged.
Two goblets of the same centuries-old wine.
Food still steaming — wagyu seared to perfection, truffle risotto fragrant, sashimi glistening.
Beerus's eyes narrowed further.
"Were you… expecting guests, Frieza?"
Frieza met his stare without blinking, smile small and knowing.
"I had a feeling someone might pay me a visit."
Beerus paused, ears twitching.
This slimy bastard was getting on his nerve.
Then he sat — opposite Frieza, with deliberate weight, the chair creaking slightly under divine presence.
Whis took the seat beside Frieza, graceful as ever, leaning in slightly to inhale the aromas.
"My my, Mr Frieza," Whis said, voice light and genuine, "these smell absolutely incredible."
Frieza snapped his fingers.
One of the five-star chefs — human, sweating bullets — scurried forward, bowing so low his nose nearly touched the floor.
He began explaining in a trembling voice:
"This is wagyu A5 ribeye, seared rare, with a black truffle demi-glace. The risotto is arborio rice with Parmigiano-Reggiano aged 36 months and fresh Alba truffles. The sashimi is bluefin toro—"
Beerus waved a paw dismissively.
"Yeah, yeah — wagyu, risotto, sashimi-whatever."
He picked up a fork, stabbed a piece of the wagyu, and shoved it in his mouth.
His eyes widened.
He chewed.
Slowly.
Then faster.
A low, involuntary purr rumbled in his throat.
Frieza watched, smile never wavering.
Whis took a delicate bite of the risotto, eyes closing in appreciation.
"Exquisite," Whis murmured.
Beerus swallowed, already reaching for more.
He glanced at Frieza — suspicion still there, but dulled by the food.
"So," Beerus said around a mouthful, "you knew I was coming."
Frieza sipped his wine.
"I felt a disturbance in the force," he said lightly. "One does not release god-ki without… consequences."
Beerus paused mid-bite.
Whis smiled faintly.
The feast continued.
But the air crackled with unspoken tension.
Two gods at the table.
One mortal who had dared to sit equal.
And the universe waited to see who would blink first.
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I am not gonna spoil but next chapter is pretty sweet.