The DBZ Drabble Series
folder
Dragon Ball Z › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
2,050
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Dragon Ball Z › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
2,050
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Drabble Word: Horn
Drabble Series: Horn
Drabble one: Catch 22
Rating: PG
The news had some stupid human name for the hurricane that swept over Cape Horn, South America. It would’ve been better labeled after a certain cranky Saiyajin Prince. The hurricane blew with alternate blasts of snow, hail and rain over the lonely craggy, windswept terrain, whipping around Vegeta with a force to rival even the power of a Super Saiyajin. He allowed the torrential winds to push him around, balanced on air drafts that circled brutally, delighting in the way it overwhelmed his senses. Here was a place he could let go, be free. Here where few humans dwelled and only the most adapted of animals survived. Here where the cruel, ruthless forces of mother-nature that assaulted him were a mirror to his very soul.
A flawless reflection his inner turmoil...
The storm was waning. Allowing his energy to dissipate, he slowly drifted down to rest on the highest point, watching as the storm-tossed waves surged around the cliff face. The roiling, crashing gray-green spray a perfect manifestation of his mood. He was on the horn of a dilemma, one that left him feeling like the sea-swept churning below.
He was always brutally honest with himself, even when the facts were so utterly distasteful. That’s what made this so hard. He could tell himself that what he wanted was wrong, that it went against every Saiyajin diktat he had been raised to uphold. It would consume the last sliver of his pride. But it didn’t change anything.
He wanted Kakkarot...
Vegeta snorted derisively at himself. He had spent years putting down the Earth-born third-class Saiyajin, deriding the younger man as unworthy of his Prince’s notice. But it had all been a fabrication. On Vegeta-sei it wouldn’t have mattered that the fool was kind, gentle and merciful, traits so un-Saiyajin that a weaker fighter would have been killed for them. No, it wouldn’t have made a difference, because Kakkarot had been the first to ascend, the Legendary Super Saiyajin.
Fit mate for even a king...
But damn it! He was still Vegeta, the last surviving prince of a noble warrior race! But here where his subjects numbered less than six, did it really matter? He had never lived as royalty, but he wore his pride like the richest of ermine capes, it represent all he had left of Vegeta-sei and he wouldn’t...couldn’t...throw it away because he was...
In love...with Kakkarot...
Were these strange feelings the beginning of that weakling emotion? He had been so determined to hate Kakkarot and now...he didn’t. In fact he felt completely the opposite. He had always been a passionate creature; fiery, quick tempered and hot-blooded. Attacking life fervently, training ferociously, always striving to be better, stronger, and faster. And now those very emotions were being transferred to the one being that thwarted him at every turn, always one step ahead...
His pride or Kakkarot? It was a no-win situation; his decision was made... He could survive without his pride...
...But he couldn’t live without Kakkarot.
Drabble one: Catch 22
Rating: PG
The news had some stupid human name for the hurricane that swept over Cape Horn, South America. It would’ve been better labeled after a certain cranky Saiyajin Prince. The hurricane blew with alternate blasts of snow, hail and rain over the lonely craggy, windswept terrain, whipping around Vegeta with a force to rival even the power of a Super Saiyajin. He allowed the torrential winds to push him around, balanced on air drafts that circled brutally, delighting in the way it overwhelmed his senses. Here was a place he could let go, be free. Here where few humans dwelled and only the most adapted of animals survived. Here where the cruel, ruthless forces of mother-nature that assaulted him were a mirror to his very soul.
A flawless reflection his inner turmoil...
The storm was waning. Allowing his energy to dissipate, he slowly drifted down to rest on the highest point, watching as the storm-tossed waves surged around the cliff face. The roiling, crashing gray-green spray a perfect manifestation of his mood. He was on the horn of a dilemma, one that left him feeling like the sea-swept churning below.
He was always brutally honest with himself, even when the facts were so utterly distasteful. That’s what made this so hard. He could tell himself that what he wanted was wrong, that it went against every Saiyajin diktat he had been raised to uphold. It would consume the last sliver of his pride. But it didn’t change anything.
He wanted Kakkarot...
Vegeta snorted derisively at himself. He had spent years putting down the Earth-born third-class Saiyajin, deriding the younger man as unworthy of his Prince’s notice. But it had all been a fabrication. On Vegeta-sei it wouldn’t have mattered that the fool was kind, gentle and merciful, traits so un-Saiyajin that a weaker fighter would have been killed for them. No, it wouldn’t have made a difference, because Kakkarot had been the first to ascend, the Legendary Super Saiyajin.
Fit mate for even a king...
But damn it! He was still Vegeta, the last surviving prince of a noble warrior race! But here where his subjects numbered less than six, did it really matter? He had never lived as royalty, but he wore his pride like the richest of ermine capes, it represent all he had left of Vegeta-sei and he wouldn’t...couldn’t...throw it away because he was...
In love...with Kakkarot...
Were these strange feelings the beginning of that weakling emotion? He had been so determined to hate Kakkarot and now...he didn’t. In fact he felt completely the opposite. He had always been a passionate creature; fiery, quick tempered and hot-blooded. Attacking life fervently, training ferociously, always striving to be better, stronger, and faster. And now those very emotions were being transferred to the one being that thwarted him at every turn, always one step ahead...
His pride or Kakkarot? It was a no-win situation; his decision was made... He could survive without his pride...
...But he couldn’t live without Kakkarot.