#for frieza however i do not want them 'going soft' for anyone ever. i want them to have been soft from the very beginning

[ufolvr]

How I sleep understanding my favorite villain's personality and backstory and why they work so well while also throwing key aspects of it away for the benefit of my own indulgences btw ^_^

#📡 incoming transmission 📡 #once again talking about frieza. mostly. their backstory and direct mirroring of goku's is the strongest in the series #they never had to life a finger for anything ever and thats the point #but.... sometimes a guy has certain needs and urges #i also mess with buu and cell but thats after they died so i can do whatever. like introducing a character for them to bounce off of #is one thing but changing their backstory is another. do you see it? i dont think i need to do that to tell a meaningful story #for frieza however i do not want them 'going soft' for anyone ever. i want them to have been soft from the very beginning #that's a lot stronger to me. what if they cared? what if they cared so much. what then. #any other changes i make to characters i like esp villains is more... well. where can we go from here buddy? #and less What would happen if your backstory was a moved a little bit to the left. it just genuinely depends on what works best ^^ #self insert #selfshipping #f/o #selfship #self ship #also bc its driving me up the wall: #me whenever i tell you that frieza cannot be enjoyed separately from their femininity and poise so frieza with a square jaw means nothing #and cell was hard for me to grasp but the truth is that the more human she became the scarier she got. #like another false sense of familiarity almost #and buu is all over the place because buu is buu and makes little to no logical sense #this has nothing to do with the post. sometimes i just like to sound smart #and as a proof that i do know frieza plenty well i just love to fuck with them and make them care for someone

[zombryz]

★ needy ★ a Frieza story pt.2

Please read pt.1 here  【☆】

TW - mentions of anxiety, mentions of smut (next chapter will be smut)

Piccolo and Gohan arrive at Capsule Corp on request of Bulma. It’s still late so Bulma gathers everyone on the rooftop for a meeting.

“Y/N has been taken.” She says facing away from them and staring at the night horizon, unable to see their reactions. No comments were made so she turned around to face Piccolo, Trunks, Gohan, Goten, Chi-Chi, Krillen, and Android 18. This had become an emergency meeting. She continued to speak, “as you know Goku and Vegeta are training on Beerus’ planet.” She rolled her eyes. No one said anything unsure of where this was going. “I think I know who took Y/N but gods I hope I am wrong.” She brought her hand up to her face trying to hide her guilt, struggling to say what she was about to say. 

There was a brief pause. Everyone’s eyes still fixed on her. “Frieza took her. I had a feeling that he had been brought back for some time now...”

“What do you need us to do, Bulma?” Piccolo finally chimes in with his arms still crossed attempting to hide his concern at the mention of Frieza’s name. 

“We need to somehow get to Whis so he can bring home Goku and Vegeta.” She turned to him, anger in her eyes. She thought, how could she let this happen? An evil being came and abducted her best friend. She couldn’t get emotional now. “I’m thinking we use food, and lots of it!” 

Everyone nodded in agreement, they were going to stay up all night trying to reach Whis. You were a part of their family. The idea of Frieza having you scared everyone, they wouldn’t dare say it outloud but they were terrified that he had already killed you. 

                      -----------------------

White noise is all you hear. Your eyes flutter open and your consciousness comes with a pounding headache. Where were you? Nothing looks familiar. You thought back to the last thing you remember. Frieza. That bastard. Where did he bring you? You tried calming your breathing so you wouldn’t freak out. You start to look around, scanning your surroundings for anything that might help you escape. You felt that your hands were tied behind your back. Your chest feels heavy, there is something big and metallic hanging around your neck, you couldn’t exactly see it but you assumed it was some kind of collar to keep you from trying to leave. Great, now I’m a pet you thought. Wherever you were looked to be a spaceship of some kind. The walls were a type of metal that matched your collar, the floor you were sitting on was cold and there was no sign of anyone, not even Frieza. It didn’t look like a throne room, so where are you? You looked over to your right and there was a literal king sized bed floating in mid air, illuminated blue from the bottom. On your left was a large and exquisite dining area. Okay, so you’re probably in someone's quarters. Why?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sliding of the quarter’s door. You slowly slid back into the wall you were leaning against in hopes that you’d blend in, not to be seen. With no hesitation Lord Frieza walks in, his strut more intimidating than ever. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, he instead ignores you completely. He walked over to his dining table and began pouring himself a glass of wine. After drinking the glass in one sip he finally spoke,

“Ah, comfortable are we, human?” His bright red eyes piercing yours, making you feel like prey under his predatory stare. “You see, I’ve never had the need for hostages so sadly, I do not have room for them.” He raises his hand to jester in the air in complete annoyance, but continues talking anyways. “You should feel honored to be staying in my quarters with me.” He twists his mouth into a smirk. 

“I liked my apartment better” You retorted, instantly regretting saying anything at all. 

“Ahh, a spunky little one,” He began walking over to you, his feet leaving behind a creepy mechanical sound. As he closes the space between you he leans down with one hand still behind his back while the other reaches for your face. He grabs your jaw, causing your lips to pucker out. Your jaw was still sore from the night before. He slowly lifts you so that you can look him in the eyes. “What is it about you that makes the monkey’s willing to do anything?” He questioned examining your face and body. His eyes continue lower and lower down your body until they snap back connecting your eye contact once more. 

The interaction was making you anxious. Your breathing became sporadic and Frieza started to notice this. With his free hand he ran a clawed finger up your abdomen starting at your naval and slowing when he got to your ribs just under your bra wire. This motion sent shivers down your spine. 

“Human lungs are so fragile, hmm?” His voice quieter than it had been only moments ago. You didn’t break eye contact trying not to let him feel superior in this moment. You didn’t want him to be the powerful one although there was no doubt that he was. He removed his hand from your ribs to run it over your face, he absorbed your energy from you once more forcing you to sleep. 

You fluttered your eyes open the same as before. This time there was sunlight creeping in from the window instead of the darkness that laid there previously. The ship must be facing the sun this time, before you were only able to see stars. There was something different though, you didn’t feel as cold as you did before. You actually felt very comfortable, you grip around you only to feel that your surroundings had been replaced with a soft feeling. Sitting up you realize where you were. Frieza’s bed?! When you look around he’s nowhere to be found. You had no idea how much time had passed or why you had been asleep in his bed. Your hands were no longer bound together but your collar remained where it had been before. You rolled out of the bed standing to your feet, you must’ve not been fully used to the gravity difference because you started stumbling. 

“Ha, this is very entertaining, please don’t stop on my account,” You knew that voice. It was Frieza. When you turn around you see him coming out of a room that was attached to his quarters. Your brows furrow in anger. 

“This isn’t funny Frieza, how long am I going to be here?” As time goes by so does your confidence in speaking to him. He needs you as a hostage, so he can’t kill you. Right? 

“I share my bed with you and this is the thanks I get?” he pouts. “Such a pity, I liked it better when you were asleep.” He added while he removed one hand from behind his back to pick at his nails. You were no longer entertaining him. 

You walked up to him, becoming cocky with your movements. “Listen Frieza, Goku can lock onto my location. You better hope he doesn’t pop up here and kick your ass!” you started waving a finger in his face, anger getting the best of you. Maybe you should’ve thought out that last part. 

Frieza grabs your wrist and your finger retreats forming into a fist. His grip was always so tight. “Ouch,” you tried to pull away but couldn’t escape his grasp. Frieza removed his free hand from behind his back to place it on the small of your back. You gasped at the action not expecting him to grab you by the waist. In one swift motion he pulled you in closer to him, your chests were inches away from each other. There was no calming your breathing, you were so nervous. 

“Just because you’re my hostage doesn’t mean that I have to be nice to you.” 

Silence. You had nothing to say, there was so much tension it could fill the whole room. You didn’t like him but something about how close you were caused a million butterflies in your stomach crying to be let out. You swallowed in hopes the feeling would go away. He was the enemy, why were you feeling this way about him? Before you could be in your thoughts any longer you felt something cold sneaking its way up your leg. You didn’t dare look down but you had a feeling you knew what it was. Frieza’s tail was climbing its way up your leg. 

Shit. What is going on?

Frieza looked down at your leg realizing his tail had you pinned. He released you immediately and left the room without a glance in your direction. The gravity became heavy once more and you dropped to your knees at the foot of Frieza’s bed. What just happened? 

                                                            -----------------------

Later that night you were laying in Frieza’s bed. He hadn’t returned yet so you were alone in your thoughts for hours. Whatever happened you had a feeling Frieza felt it too. What did this mean? You can’t be ‘sleeping with the enemy’. You had to get out of here before anything else happened. Before you could plan an escape, the door opens. 

“I-I feel the need to tell you that my tail has a mind of its own so don’t get any wrong ideas.”

You didn’t answer. What would you even say to that? The air wasn’t awkward, as soon as he re-entered the room the tension was back. This was the first time Frieza sounded unsure of anything. It was like your presence made him weak. He walked over to the bed. Uh-oh, you just realized that in the past however many nights Frieza had put you to sleep that you weren’t conscious and had no idea if Frieza was actually sleeping IN the bed with you. When he reached the side of the bed he untucked the sheets insinuating that he would be getting into the bed. Your eyes went wide, you froze unsure of what to do. You turn over to face away from him, you felt his movement as he got under the covers. He shifts around to get comfortable. Well this couldn’t get anymore awkward. Your thoughts running wild it was getting harder to control them. You turned over on your side this time facing him, he was laying with his hands behind his head staring blankly at the ceiling. You could finally decipher the tension you had been feeling, it was sexual. Your desires becoming hard to ignore. Your cheeks give off heat leaving behind a rosy hue. You closed your eyes tightly trying not to think about all the things you’d wish he’d do to you. 

“Please do control yourself little one, I can smell your arousal from over here.” 

You froze. He can smell you? This was embarrassing. Could you use this to your advantage in some way? He seemed vulnerable, maybe you could use this to escape. Did you even want to escape anymore? Why were you feeling this way? 

This was killing you. You decided to just let your instincts take charge, before you knew it you had hoped on top of him, straddling him, holding his hands at the sides of his head. You were pinning him down. Under your grasp, he had become the prey. He didn’t respond, he did nothing. Maybe he was unsure of what your intentions were? You were breathing heavy but he was completely calm, unconcerned with you. He treated you as though you had no power or strength over him and it drove you mad. His eyes locked on yours, there was a moment, the tiniest moment of need in his eyes. He looked at you like he was enjoying this. With your instincts still in control you did it, you leaned down pressing your lips to his dark ones. The kiss was intimate but brief. Almost immediately you were shoved off, the roles had reversed. He quickly flipped you over and had you pinned down beneath him. Your hands were grasped tightly in his, he held them above your head. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” His brows furrow, he was angry. Gods, he was so beautiful. Was he going to kill you now? Maybe he’ll say whatever to his grand plan and kill you right where you lay. 

He slowly removed his palms from yours, sitting up still straddling you. His face turned sour, his pointer finger lifted up as he swirled together a red ball of energy. He started laughing evilly. This was it. This was the end.

#frieza #lord frieza #dbs frieza #dbs goku #dbs whis #dbs bulma #frieza imagine #fan fiction #bryannawrites #friezaneedyfic #needy #fan fic smut

[ssjkallion]

Remember that Time I said I would Show You that mock trope page I made?

Here it is. 

IT’S ALL FOR FUN! And I do include references to actual RP’s, so you might find yourself in here lol!

Might as well post it here too for mobile purposes.

Kallion: 

A Saiyan time patroller from Planet Vegeta.

Action Survivor: Just barely survived Planet Vegeta’s destruction due to being marooned on another planet.

Survivors Guilt: Big time, though she tends to play it off, if not outright denying that she has it. Kallion has…issues about the circumstances of her survival.

Innocent Blue Eyes: Compared to the more common dark eyes of other Saiyans, emphasizing her gentle nature.

Fish Out Of Temporal Water: Was born several years before Planet Vegeta’s destruction, but is now living in Conton City nearly a century later. Though she’s happy now, her early days at the time patrol made for a difficult adjustment.

Brooding Boy, Gentle Girl: Gentle girl to Giblet’s Brooding Boy.

Involuntary Shapeshifting: As any Saiyan who still has their tail, one look at the full moon will have her turning into a Great Ape in no time.

My Species Doth Protest Too Much: Downplayed, and largely averted. Kallion points out that while she was always far more gentle than what was typically expected of Saiyans, and she lacked that ruthless killer instinct, she is still a battle-crazed idiot. On the other hand, she theorizes that her experiences weren’t all that unique to begin with. I.e: Gine and Tarble.

All Girls Want Bad Boys: Between Giblet and, yes, technically Trunks as well, Kallion seems to have a type. The real kicker is that she doesn’t escape this platonically either– Bardock is a hell of a father figure to have. She even lampshades this herself; “How come I only ever get attached to emotionally constipated men?”

Scars are Forever: A prominent one on her left cheek. It’s unknown exactly what the circumstances were, but she assumed she got it while a Great Ape. Countless others are scattered all over her body as well.

Intergenerational Friendship: With Bardock, her mentor. He also happened to be her father’s best friend.

Proud Warrior Race Guy: Saiyan!

Sole Survivor: Of her crew, who left her behind and returned to planet Vegeta on Frieza’s orders. Needless to say, she was lucky to be abandoned.

Tyke Bomb: Typical of most Saiyan children.

Golden Super Power Mode: Super Saiyan, naturally

Did You Just Punch Out Cthulhu?: It’s in the job description.

Dating Catwoman: Her and Giblet.

Action Mom: In the future, having kids doesn’t slow her down at all.

Mama Bear: Becomes fiercely protective of her baby boy Keel, a trait which only continues to grow in the future.

All-Loving Hero: Willing to give most people and creatures alike the benefit of the doubt….save for Frieza, Mira, Cell, Towa…obvious villains aside. Also loves animals.

Bad Powers, Good People: Being a Saiyan, she has a natural unlimited potential for battle and power. Along with the added layer of being able to turn into a vicious giant ape. Yet, she’s kind and mellow.

She’s Got Legs: Muscular and flexible.

Nice Girl: In spite of being a full blooded Saiyan of the PTO age, she’s kind hearted and easy going. Kallion, in general, has a difficult time hurting people unless pushed. Granted, she can be surprisingly short tempered.

The Apprentice: To Chronoa, as well as Bardock, and eventually Shallot.

Archenemy: Considers hers to be Towa, Frieza, and Suuja.

Badass Adorable: 5ft of Saiyan rage.

Bare Your Midriff: Typically in her casual attire.

Berserk Button: Good hearted as she may be, Kallion is still a short tempered Saiyan. What gets her is usually picking at her insecurities, insulting Chronoa or Trunks, making even the slightest threat toward her children, or dragging innocent people into conflicts.  

Big Eater: Saiyan!

Blood Knight: Again, Saiyan!

Came Back Strong: As with every Saiyan, coming back from the brink of death brings with it a hefty power-up known as a zenkai boost.

11th-Hour Ranger: Her job as an elite time patroller.

Glass Cannon

Huge Guy, Tiny Girl: Being all of 5ft, she’s this standing next to most of the men she knows. Special mention goes to Arugla, Taeta, Scaro, Giblet, Bardock, Trunks…

Lightning Bruiser: Speed is her greatest advantage due to her size.

Platonic Life-Partners: With Arugla, Taeta, Scaro, and debatably Trunks.

UST: With Trunks. There’s an obvious attraction, and she trusts him more than anyone.

Slap Slap Kiss: However, her and Giblet….

Opposites Attract: Her and Giblet again.

Slasher Smile: Often right before a fight.

Tranquil Fury: The first time she went Super Saiyan.

Token Good Teammate: Didn’t end well…kind of.

Took a Level in Badass: Gained a significant amount of confidence during her time in Conton City.

Wild Child: From age 6 to 12, after being marooned on a swampy planet by her old crew. When it became obvious that no one else was left to come get her, she fended for herself.

Blue is Heroic: Blue eyes, blue clothing, blue armor…

Defends Against Their Own Kind: Technically, whenever she’s fighting against a rogue saiyan in history.

Determinator: Can get to wonderfully self destructive levels.

Pregnant Badass: Hell, she’s confused as to why she’s apparently supposed to stop fighting after finding out she’s pregnant with Keel.

Socially Awkward Hero: Spending your formative years as a feral child will do that to a girl.

Idiot Hero: Socially awkward, romantically oblivious, no sense of self preservation? Yeah.

Nice Job Fixing It, Villain: So, your crew abandons you to die. Then THEY end up dying, you live and get stronger, and end of recruited by an elite time force where you get to work with the greatest heroes in history. Thanks, old crew!

Recruited From The Gutter: Found as a wild 12 year old girl living on a backwater planet with little intelligent life besides herself.

Undying Loyalty/I Owe You My Life: To Chronoa, Trunks, and the Time Patrol. Kallion is incredibly grateful for the second chance they gave her.

Wacky Parent, Serious Child: The wacky parent to the much more serious minded Keel.

Because You Were Nice To Me: What sparks Giblet’s attraction to her, along with the fact that she was never afraid of him. This trope is also the initial reason for her crush on Trunks.

Villainous Crush: Again, Giblet.

First Kiss: Giblet again!

Friend to All Children: Even before having her own, she had a soft spot for children and got along with them well.

Child From the Future: Keel, her equivalent of the Toki Toki City/XV1 Hero. Not that she initially knows.

Back-To-Back Badass: With Arugla, Taeta, and Trunks typically.

Desperately Craves Affection: Downplayed, but still there.

The Power of Friendship: Comes with the territory

Remember That You Trust Me

All Of The Other Reindeer

Motor Mouth: Usually when she’s nervous or meeting someone new.

Lady of War: It’s in the blood, after all.

Four-Temperament Ensemble: Sanguine

Beware the Nice Ones

Like A Daughter To Me: Bardock refers to her like this almost word for word.

Freudian Trio: The Id

Innocent Fanservice Girl: Has no qualms with people seeing her naked, and doesn’t understand why others would be offended by her being nude in her own home or bathroom.

Attack! Attack! Attack!

Wide-Eyed Idealist: To a point.

Too Hungry To Be Polite

Stupid Good: Hooooooo boy.

The Pollyanna

Paralyzing Fear of Sexuality: Due to growing up alone, her knowledge of sex and things related to it is slim to none. As a result, actually experiencing those feelings causes her to momentarily freeze and panic. She gets better.

Oblivious to Love: Related to the above. Romantic gestures tend to fly over her head unless it’s spelled out.

Insecure Love Interest: Which directly feeds into the above two examples.

Battle Aura: Yellow or purple.

Strong Family Resemblance: Her mother’s spitting image. In teen Keel’s timeline, she has a daughter of her own who looks just like her as well.  

Stepford Smiler: Type 1: “The character seems to be happy, cheerful, is always smiling, and seems to live a perfect life - but inside they are melancholic, if not outright depressed.”

Sink-or-Swim Mentor: Bardock, who has no problem beating her into the dirt during their very first training session.

Verbal Tic: Has a habit of ending sentences with “yeah?” and “ya know?”, as well as starting with common sentence fillers like “well,” or “uh”. Ya know?

Obfuscating Stupidity: Kallion is a weird case. While she’s uneducated and misses innuendo, she can be very intuitive. There’s also her habit of dodging uncomfortable questions by acting like she doesn’t understand. To quote Mariko; “Sometimes I wonder if you play dumb, or…”

Did you think I can’t feel?: Rips into Giblet with this almost word for word after he still accuses her of using and manipulating him for the Time Patrol.  

Dead Guy Junior: Not her, but her son is named for the only member of her crew who was kind to her– and died as a result.

Book Dumb: She is very much uneducated, due to her circumstances. Learning to read was never a priority until she was 12.

Red Oni, Blue Oni: The red to Android 22's blue, but the blue to Mariko's red.

(To be added on continually whenever I think of another or as I see fit! FOR FUN!)

#ooc #tropes page #tropes mobile #It's not in alphabetical order because I literally write these on the fly #dsjghfkd like it comes to mind and just bop #Why no I don't have shame thanks for asking

[fandom-trash-xl]

Rewritten Scrapped Draft: "Shattered Ice"

I decided to rewrite one of the sections of one of my scrapped fanfiction drafts. If you would like to read the original, it can be found in my Fanfiction Dump #1 post.

'Let it go, Frieza. No one could be having a worse day than you.’

Planet Daitoshi, an urban planet in the sixth universe, home to rainstorms and crime. The place of hiding for one particular criminal, once a hero…

Within the darkness of the barren streets, a ice-blue reptilian creature stood awaiting his prey. He was trembling, his breathing was jagged, and he was bordering on sickly.

This lurker of the shadows was the notorious Frost, a space pirate who had played the good guy for so long... Until a few months prior, when a foolish Galactic Patrolman saw through his facade. 

And that wasn't even the worst of it. He finally had his chance to redeem himself in a tournament for survival and he blew it! All because of that damned traitor, Frieza!

Now, he stood weakened, the only thing between him and hypothermia being a dark tattered cloak, in wait of those trying to pursue him. He needed to keep them incapacitated so he could find a better hiding place. He had not seen anyone yet, but he had this strange feeling that he was being watched. He could feel a cold and familiar presence.

Frost felt that it was most likely his paranoia talking, probably spawned from constant attack or the fact that he was half blinded. He held his wrist like a blaster, preparing to launch the toxic needle within it. Of course, his aim was shaky, as the left side of his view was filled with a thick mist occasionally stained red from the open sores running along his face.  

Suddenly, within the blood-filled fog, he finally noticed the unclear form of a being. He could make out a mass of deep gray and... lavender.

No, it couldn't be him...

Yet, something still provoked him to fire the needle. "Hmph, think he can sneak up on me that easily? Well-" He breathed. "I've got news for him. I'm not dying today..." The thorn rocketed through the thin air. However, in the blink of an eye, the gray and purple figure disappeared and the projectile fell to the ground.

Frost sighed. It must have been his vision playing tricks on him. There was no possible way it could've been the legendary assassin-

He felt a sudden presence behind him. "It's been awhile... Frost." A stone cold and serious voice spoke.

"H-H-Hit..." Frost stuttered, not even daring to face him. Why was he here? Had he finally been sent to dispose of him?! "Have you come to take my life again? In my weakness?"

"I didn't come here to-" Hit continued only to be interrupted by the Ice Demon collapsing onto his hands and knees.

"Just make the strike!" His vision clouded further with tears. "You know what I've done. You know I can't be forgiven. So, just end it! Finish me off!" 

"You're-" The assassin hesitated. "You're really serious?"

"Yes!"

"You want me to kill you?"

"Yes!" Frost slammed his fists into the ground.

"If that's how you want it, then," Hit began to explain. "I need you to get off the ground. I'm going to need a strike to a point in your neck."

"Whatever you need to do..."  Frost rose to his feet, trembling. His eyes were closed tightly.

"I'll give you three seconds in case you need to reconsider." Hit took a breath.

"3...

2...

1..."

The assassin leapt forward in time and struck a pressure point on the half-blind Icejin's neck...

Frost walked along silently, following Vados into the grand stone castle. The many shades of violet mineral stood out in the dark of the evening. He felt like he was on trial having to trail behind the angel... and it didn't help that she dragged him along with the rod of her scepter to keep tabs on him. The downsides of no longer being trusted. 

"I'm still surprised that you decided to arrange a meeting with Lord Champa, Frost." The green-dressed angel continued to lead up the stairs to the God of Destruction's chambers. "And so soon after the tournament. I believe it's only been about a week."

"I'm aware." The Icejin spoke in a hushed tone.

After a moment longer of silence, they came to the entrance way of a large room. He could catch a glimpse of the pudgy cat god Champa pacing along the wall of pillars. "We've arrived at my lord's chambers." Vados announced. She called into the room. "Lord Champa, there is someone here to meet with you!"

"I didn't arrange for any meetings this evening!" He barked. "Not to mention, it's almost time for my supper! Those six courses aren't going to prepare themselves!" 

Frost's stomach briefly growled at the thought of a six-course dinner. Ever since his cover had been blown, he hadn't been able to have even a light meal. Every few days, he could manage to feed off of what the land provided just enough to stave off starvation. Meanwhile, the God of Destruction was having a Thanksgiving feast on a nightly basis.

"Forgive him," Vados laughed a little. "He gets a bit huffy when it's almost meal time. I'd best go prepare his meal."

The Ice Demon trembled. 'A bit huffy' for a God of Destruction could mean that he was angry enough to kill. "I-If he's not in the best of moods, I can always come back another time." He tried to explain to the angel.

"Oh, don't worry," Vados prodded Frost with the tip of her angel's scepter into the room, oblivious to his visible panic. "It'll be fine!" 

As Vados descended the stairway, Champa turned to face the reptilian criminal, who nervously looked destruction dead in the eyes...

Frost felt himself between a soft layer of wool and a leather cushion. Who knew that Hell of all places would have such refined tastes in furnishing. 

Yet... he still felt.. pained...

He reached up to the wounds on his face. They still stung uncontrollably, and, as he pulled his hand back, he could feel it coated in blood. "Huh?"

"I see you're awake." A voice spoke from the left of him; the voice of Hit. 

That confirmed it...

"I-I'm still alive?!" His own voice was shaking and panicked. "But, how? You never fail to kill your targets. You're 'Never Miss Hit'!"

"I held back on purpose. I simply used the pressure point in your neck to knock you unconscious so I could take you somewhere safer." 

"It doesn't feel like I was out for that long."

"We're only a few blocks away. I live here on Daitoshi, you know. I'm never too far from work on this planet." Hit got down off the couch and sat on his knees, allowing Frost to see his face. The Icejin tried to focus his vision to fully make out his form. "Now, I want you to hold still for awhile."

"Wait, why do I need to hold-" Frost was interrupted by Hit dabbing the mangled left side of his face with a cotton ball held between a pair of tweezers. He flinched and yelped in displeasure. "What the hell was that for?!"  

"Relax, it's just medicine for your eye." Hit grabbed the Ice Demon's arm in an attempt to keep him still. Frost tensed up a little. "It's only going to hurt more if you squirm." The assassin took a bottle of clear liquid and applied more to the cotton ball. He continued treating the trio of wounds. "Speaking of which, how did you get these injuries? It seems a bit too deliberate to be a simple trip and fall accident. In fact, they almost look like claw marks..."

"You really think I'd forgive a performance like yours..." Champa glared at Frost. "Heh, don't make me laugh."

"But, Lord Champa," The Icejin tried to reason with the God of Destruction. "If you just remove the charges against me and let me return as head of my empire, I'll be sure to make it worth-"

He was interrupted. "I said I would pardon you if you secured the win for us." The pudgy anubis snarled. "And I'd hardly call your performance in the Tournament one worth praise. You promised me results right in these chambers after Hit fetched you from the trash. Instead, you let your guard down against that filthy rat from Universe 7, and you humiliated me in front of the other universes by returning to your cheating ways and getting yourself vaporized."

"It was all that traitor Frieza's fault! That wasn't my-"

"It was your own fault. You got cocky. You didn't hold your end of the agreement, so I'm not holding mine. Now, leave so I can eat my dinner in peace."

Frost was left standing in shock as his chance at redemption was swept out of his grasp... and at the same time, a feeling of anger was welling up inside. 

At that moment, Vados arrived at the top of the stairs, levitating the six courses of Champa's supper. "Lord Champa, your dinner is ready."

"Ah, finally!" Champa turned around to face his attendant, his mouth watering at the sight. "Now, before we proceed, would you kindly escort this cretin out of my presence?"

"On it, my lord."

Frost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not only was he refused redemption... he was being discarded without a second thought. He couldn't take the thought...

As Vados tried to take him by the arm, he leapt through the air toward the God of Destruction. "You think you can discard me that easily? Think again!"

"I told you to leave." Champa swiped at Frost with his thick black claws. They harshly raked through his face, leaving thick bleeding gashes behind. The Icejin fell backward onto the ground, now breathing heavily and unsteadily.

"Vados, remove this monster from my presence at once! Leave him on that that dreaded rain planet to die." 

"The gashes seem pretty thick. I don't know what creature could have made those. You want to tell me how you got those, Frost?" 

Frost was silent, fearfully recalling his encounter with the God of Destruction.

"Frost?"

More silence followed.

"Fine. Don't tell me." Hit continued applying the medicine, before suddenly pausing. "You tried asking the God of Destruction to pardon you, didn't you?"

Frost finally sighed. "Yes." He hesitantly admitted. "My rage got the better of me and I ultimately deserved the result."

"Well, what matters is that you're safe."

For once, Hit finally saw Frost manage a smile...

...and he also saw a glimpse of his left eye trying to peak out among the scars and look at him with hope.

#dragon ball super #rewrite #Frost #Hit #Some angst

[scarletraven1001]

The Final Price (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: Vegeta’s gone, and Bulma is finding it impossible to cope with his death. In the midst of her sorrow, she finds hope when she begins to have strange dreams about him, and she realizes that there just might be a way to bring him back.

Entry for the @tpthvegebulmayhem, Week 4 (Part 1 of 4).

Prompt: The Glass Slipper

Chapter Warnings: Rated E - Profane language; Triggers: Mentions of depression and suicide; Torture; Slight sexual content.

All Chapters:  1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Also on Ao3.

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Chapter 7: The Undying Bond

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Note: This is Part 1 of 4, for my Week 4 entry. I hope you like it!

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In her thirty years of existence, Bulma had, on several occasions, experienced what it was like to be sad.

She had gone through breakups, and she had lost friends. She had even, at one point, lost literally everything, and has had close friends and family members pass away.

Loss and death were not new to her.

However, the feelings of hopelessness, her conviction that things would never get better, the complete loss of her will to even get up every morning… those were new.

She had usually dealt with her sadness and frustrations by burying herself in her work or studies, by going out with friends or by taking short vacations.

She had tried so hard to do the same things this time around, but she just couldn’t.

She could not keep her mind on her work, making stupid mistakes because of her wandering thoughts that made her lose her concentration.

She had thrown an epic tantrum when she failed to solve a simple equation that she previously could have done with only one eye half open and both hands tied behind her back.

She had filed for an indefinite leave of absence from work, after that frankly embarrassing meltdown.

Her parents were worried, confused as to why she had suddenly become so despondent and angry.

She didn’t care.

She did not want to see anyone, did not want to talk to anybody.

Every step she took made her shake with agony.

Every bite of food felt like sand on her tongue.

She was smart enough to recognize the signs...

She had never before truly realized that there was a profound difference between being simply miserable, and being depressed.

She needed to be strong enough to fight it…

But she did not want to.

Vegeta’s death had hit her hard, like nothing she had ever experienced before.

She loathed herself, for being useless, for being unable to save him, for ultimately not being able to do anything to keep him alive.

She was so utterly lost, so unspeakably dejected, and all she wanted to do was lock herself up in her room all day and sleep.

Yet all she saw, every time she closed her eyes, were gruesome images of his last moments… the ki beam that struck his heart, his shaky final breaths, the look of pride and acceptance in his eyes right before he faded from her arms.

All these horrible memories fill the backs of her eyelids, yet she preferred sleep to wakefulness, because in slumber, she found some relief.

Perhaps, if she slept, she could dream of him. Maybe she would have a vision of him, see him as he was in the afterlife.

Oh, how she wanted to join him.

But she could not, because he had asked her to stay safe.

“Stay safe. My precious Blue Moon…”

She could not, should not, kill herself, because she could not bear to disrespect his memory, his hard work and sacrifice, by failing him at this.

“My Bulma…”

She felt the tears sting her eyes, and she tried and failed to hold them back.

It had been three weeks.

She still could not get his voice out of her head.

She could still feel his hands on her body, his kisses upon her lips.

“My Bulma…”

She could still feel how cold his skin had felt as he began to fade into nothingness, how his lips had trembled beneath hers as he fought to keep his pain to himself, even as he wasted away.

He was gone.

Her Vegeta was gone.

And to her, it truly felt as if a part of her soul had died with him, as well.

Maybe, her soul really had been ripped apart.

After all, he was her soulmate. It made perfect sense for her very spirit to cry out and scream at his demise.

It wasn’t fair.

How dare the world just ignorantly go on, when Vegeta was no longer in it.

At the moment, Bulma was staring numbly out her large bedroom windows and into the distance, her eyes hurting from the weak rays of sunlight that filtered in.

She was hunched in on herself in bed, her hair a matted disarray while her white shirt hung loosely around her frame.

Vegeta had hugged her, while she wore that shirt.

He had lain his head on her pillow as he wrapped his arms around her, an arrogant smirk on his face as he told her of how he was going to melt that shirt off her if she didn’t immediately take it off.

The pillow he had laid his head on, was the same one he had placed under her hips, using it so he can tilt her up as he thrust into her more deeply. It was the one he had slept on after their last moments of passion, one night before he fought Frieza.

She had her arms wrapped around that pillow then, refusing to part with it in spite of the stains from her endless tears.

It was all she had left of him.

She had lost his amulet when she got kidnapped, and she never even managed to take a fucking picture with him.

A stained pillow case was all she had left.

It was so utterly unfair.

A soft knock came on her door, pulling her slightly from her lonely thoughts, and she looked on morosely as the knob turned.

Her mother’s small blond head peeked in, her normally jovial eyes brimming with concern while her small mouth was turned down in a sad frown.

“Bulma, baby? May I come in?”

Bulma nodded, and Panchy walked in slowly, feet hesitantly padding across the floor.

She sat down on the edge of the large bed, while Bulma squinted at her, waiting for her to speak.

Panchy took a deep breath, before she resolutely turned to Bulma.

“Baby, you know I love you, right?” she said softly, reaching forward to stroke Bulma’s thin hand that was clutching tightly at her pillow.

Bulma nodded.

Panchy stared at her, and Bulma watched helplessly as small tears began leaking out of Panchy’s eyes.

“You’re my little girl. And I love you. So, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” the blond said, scooting closer to Bulma.

She started speaking again. “That morning, when those three men brought you here… you were unconscious and so pale.”

Bulma didn’t remember all the things that had happened after Vegeta had faded from her arms, but she did remember her screams that seemed to go on for hours, until darkness finally overtook her… and the next thing she knew, she was back at home.  

“When I asked them where the fourth man was,” Panchy continued, “they didn’t say anything. And you… you never spoke to me either, Bulma.”

Panchy began sobbing as she looked at Bulma, watched her pale blue eyes look back at her blankly. “I want to help you, Bulma. Like you helped me when I was sick. I can feel… I can feel that your heart is sick too, but I don’t know why. Please baby, let me help you.”

Bulma drew her brows together, not even realizing that the tears had started flowing from her eyes, as well.

“Mom,” she said softly. “No one… no one can help me. It’s over.”

“No! Don’t say that, Bulma!” Panchy exclaimed, lunging at her and pulling her into her arms.

Panchy began to weep, soft, feminine sobs that broke Bulma’s heart just a little bit more, and before she knew it, she had clung to her mother, bawling desperately into her chest as she heard her own voice begin to cry out.

“He’s gone mom! He’s gone! Vegeta’s gone!” Bulma kept wailing, pounding the mattress with her fists as the very words made her body ache physically.

“Oh Bulma, do you mean he left, or-”

“He’s dead!” Bulma screamed, and she realized then that it was the very first time that she had dared say the words out loud.

She had never had the courage to acknowledge his loss out loud, in a fool’s hope that if she didn’t say it, maybe it could stop being true...

“He’s dead! And I – I couldn’t do anything, mom! I just sat there. He’s gone!” she cried, slumping into her mother, seeking comfort from her mother’s loving hold.

But Bulma was trying to fool herself. She knew that her mother’s calming touch would never be enough.

She could only ever find her peace from a thick pair of powerful arms that would never hold her, ever again.

“Oh baby, I’m – I’m so sorry!” Panchy whispered into her hair as she rained kisses on Bulma’s head.

Her mother spoke to her as she cried, and Bulma heard her mother trying desperately to hush her, to soften the flow of her tears.

“I knew… I knew there was something there… but I never realized that he meant so much to you! I wondered why a random team of soldiers had gone to rescue you when you got kidnapped,” Panchy said softly. “Oh Bulma, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

“I miss him, mom. I need him. I don’t know how I could go on,” she sobbed, as she felt her mother push her down, gently lowering her so that she was laying flat on her bed.

Panchy sniffed as she pulled blankets around her, tucking her in before she lay beside Bulma as well, hugging her tight as they cried together.

“Bulma, I am sure that it hurts. But you have to try to move on. He… he would have wanted you to be happy, don’t you think?”

She nodded, sniffling loudly. “He… he gave his life for me. He refused to save himself because he wanted me to… to stay safe.”

Bulma peered up at her mother. “He… he called me, my Bulma. Do you… do you think he loved me, mom? Because I love him... I love him so much.”

Panchy burst into tears once again, pulling Bulma tight, laying her head close to her chest like she used to do when Bulma had been little, and upset over little things.

“Yes baby. I’m sure he did. It is impossible not to love you, my sweet little girl.”

Bulma sobbed against her mother until she was exhausted, and Panchy just patiently held her, offering her silent support as she soothed her motherly hands across Bulma’s back.

It took a long time, but Bulma finally felt the stirrings of sleep begin to wash over her, and before she knew it, she was lost in slumber, away from the aches of the waking world, and into the sweet nothingness of the darkness of unconsciousness.

Yet… it was not darkness that greeted Bulma as she succumbed to sleep.

8-8-8-8-8

She could still feel the dampness of her sweat as it dried slowly on her body.

She snuggled closer to Vegeta, laying her head close to his hard chest. She knew that the abnormal heat of his body should have been uncomfortable, but to her, it was like being in the gentle clouds of heaven, where nothing could harm her, and nothing could hurt her. It was just the two of them, nestled in each other’s arms, luxuriating in the warmth of their hearts.  

A small feather fell onto her nose, cutting off her tender musings.  She tried to flick it off with her breaths, blowing out her mouth so that the air would push it off her face.

Vegeta had ripped one of her pillows apart while in the throes of passion. She absolutely did not mind.

She felt his chuckle as it rumbled across his chest, before she heard the soft snickers leave his lips.

She watched him lift a hand, and he quickly plucked the offending feather from her before he lowered his head to drop a small kiss on the tip of her nose.

“I am sorry for the pillow,” he said with a totally non-apologetic smirk. “I can fix it.”

“Nah, it’s alright. Leave it for now,” she grinned back. She reached a hand up to trace the contours of his chest with the tips of her fingers, peeking up at him through her lashes. “I rather like the reminder that I was just so good in bed that you had to rip something up. It’s so… feral.”

She laughed as she watched him blush at her teasing.

She expected him to get back at her with an arrogant rebuttal, but the hand that he placed on her cheek, along with the soft look that entered his normally-stern eyes, threw her for a loop.

“I will admit this much, Bulma,” he whispered, as if a part of him was hesitant to say the words. “Being with you tonight was… different.”

“Different in a good way?” she asked, breathless at his solemn confession.

He nodded. “I have never… It has never been this way before. I nearly lost control.”

“Maybe it has just been too long?” she asked, hoping that it wasn’t for that reason.

It had been so incredible for her, as well.

He shook his head, and she nearly sighed in relief.

“No, it is not that… you are my most incredible experience,” he admitted.

She flushed happily, beaming brightly up at him. “That’s great Vegeta, because… it was amazing for me, too.”

He smiled back.”Don’t let it get to your head, woman.”

She laughed, huffing jokingly as she answered. “Excuse me? You’re the one with the huge head!”

“Oh, is that how it is going to be?” he growled, a playful smirk on his face as he turned, pouncing on her, hands crawling up and down her sides, making her squirm before her laughter began to ring around her bedroom.

“No! No tickling!” she yelled, trying in vain to push away from his hands.

He started laughing as well, tickling her sides more vigorously. “I got you now, and I am not letting go!”

8-8-8-8-8

She opened her eyes slowly as she woke, already feeling the tears welling up behind her lids.

She smiled bitterly as she recalled the last vestiges of her dream, her memory of happier times with Vegeta.

“But you did let go, Vegeta. You let go…”

8-8-8-8-8

The next morning was too bright, too cheerful, and Bulma almost felt as if she wanted to vomit as she tried and failed to get up from her bed.

It was really pointless, getting up. Why should she even bother?

She was contemplating going back to sleep, when a bright flash of light suddenly appeared inside her bedroom, and she gaped as a male form with spiky, golden hair materialized before her.

A dozen flashbacks went through her mind as she screamed, tumbling carelessly from her bed as she bolted without thought towards the man who had appeared with his back to her, wearing a blue tank top and loose black pants.

“Vegeta!” she screamed, heart pounding through her ribcage as she desperately tried to move towards him…

Was he truly back?

The man turned, and the hopeful spark within her chest died as quickly as it had been lit, when she realized that the person standing before her was definitely not her dead lover.

It was Goku.

Indescribable rage filled her as he turned to look at her.

“What are you doing here?!” she roared, making him visibly recoil.

How dare he get her hopes up?

How dare he remind her of what she had lost?

“Bulma, I’m sorry,” Goku said, raising his hands up in a gesture of placation. “I just wanted to check up on you again. I didn’t think you would be awake.”

Bulma’s rage continued to simmer. “What do you mean, again?”

Goku winced. “I have been checking on you once every three days. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She finally untangled herself from her sheets, rising up to stand and glaring lividly at Goku.

“Look at me! Do I look alright to you, Goku?” she yelled.

She knew her anger was unwarranted, but she was unable to stem the venom that flowed through her.

Goku appeared to deflate. “No, you don’t. You don’t look alright at all. You look awful.”

She glared. “Oh well, thank you, Goku! I-”

“You look sick,” he said, brows furrowing. “You are very thin. You look like you aren’t eating.”

Bulma was taken aback as she noted Goku’s hands clenching, and she watched his face slowly morph from a look of concern to one of irritation.

“You ain’t taking care of yourself, are ya?” he accused, and Bulma cringed under the accusation in his eyes. “Bulma, why? You have to treat yourself better. You-”

“What’s the point?” she asked bitterly. “Why should I?! There’s nothing left for me here. He’s gone, so why should I even-”

“He gave his life for you!” Goku said loudly, shocking her into silence.

She gaped at him, watching his aura flare angrily around him.

“Our Prince, our leader, who we waited thirty Earth years for, gave up on a chance to reestablish the Saiyan race because he couldn’t bear to let you die. He gave up on his legacy,” Goku hissed, “because you meant more to him than me, Raditz and Nappa combined, more than the thirty years of waiting and plotting to rise and lead us again. And all you are doing in exchange for his sacrifice is letting yourself waste away. The least you can do is to respect his death by surviving.”

He turned away from her, angrily looking out her window, and she was struck by the visible similarities between Vegeta and his fellow Saiyan.

That straight and powerful stance, the strong arms and narrowed, determined eyes... Vegeta and Goku looked nothing alike, yet, standing here now, Bulma could fully appreciate the fact that these men truly were not ordinary humans, as their presence resonated with something unmistakably powerful, and she was awestruck by the display.

Goku sighed, powering down so his hair turned back to its usual dark, spiky look. He turned back to her, his face now softer and slightly contrite. “I am sorry for shouting, Bulma. But Vegeta was our Prince. Our ruler, even before his father died. The first Saiyan to ascend to Super Saiyan in a thousand ages. We all looked up to him.”

He walked towards her, taking her limp hands in his, a brotherly gesture that had Bulma near-tears as she sensed his sadness through his somber gaze.

“He… he was my idol,” Goku said, swallowing audibly. “He had been telling me that I had what it took to ascend, and I never would’a tried so hard if it weren’t for him always telling me that I could. It… it hurts to know that he is really gone.”

“It does. It really does hurt, Goku. I… I’m sorry if I’m like this… I just… I can’t handle it,” she whispered, and she felt him steering her to sit on her bed, before he himself crouched before her, rocking back on his haunches as he watched her.

“You have to try Bulma. He wouldn’t wanna see you like this. And I’m here because I want you to be safe, like he asked. So I’m gonna try to look after you, alright?” he said. “I see why Vegeta liked you. You’re a strong girl. If I remember right, back on the mountain those years ago, you were the toughest in your group. You have to be that tough girl, again.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I… I am going to try. I am going to really try, Goku.”

He smiled back. “You should.”

8-8-8-8-8

The visit from Goku shook Bulma, and she decided then that she had to at least make an effort to try to get things to go back to normal.

She knew it would be impossible, but she should at least try to attain a semblance of normalcy, if not for her, then for the people who loved her and were worried for her.

Also… for Vegeta.

Goku had been right. Vegeta wanted her to be safe, he wanted her to live her life, and she was going to try, for him.

She tried to fight back the urge to stay in bed all day. She took baths with her phone right beside her, so she can call her mother to fetch her from the bathroom if the shudders started up again, or if she felt the urge to either not get out at all or to just drown herself in the bathtub.

She asked Goku for his number – which he had to go back home for a second to retrieve from his wife, Chichi – so she can call him whenever she was feeling down.

It apparently helped, to have somebody around who could understand the pain of her loss.

Bulma opened up to Lazuli, her assistant, and the blond surprised Bulma by sharing that she, apparently, had gone through a dark period as well when her parents passed away, leaving her and her twin brother as homeless orphans.

She tried to offer some help, supplying Bulma with books that had helped her cope with her own loss, and though Bulma knew that the self-help books would not really offer her much peace of mind, she took them, grateful for the kinship that she now shared more keenly with Lazuli.

Bulma tried to look back at her memories with Vegeta more fondly, and as the weeks passed, she found herself slowly becoming more able to smile as she remembered his words and arrogant smiles.

She could remember their small conversations, his nitpicking at her messy lab and office. She smiled as she sat in her office, chewing thoughtfully at some pineapple, remembering his face as he sniffed in disdain at how lazy humans were for slicing their fruit into bite-sized bits.

There was, however, one thing that helped keep her happier, that began after she cried her eyes out after coming clean to her mother… after she finally acknowledged out loud, that Vegeta was gone.

She had begun to dream of him.

The dreams were happy dreams, full of memories of their few days together, and sometimes of random encounters that she knew had never happened, and had regarded as simple figments of her imagination.

She thought of them more as alternate universe versions of a life with Vegeta.

She had once dreamed of them flying off to South City to fight villainous androids, where one of them looked uncannily like Lazuli.

She also once dreamed of watching him talking to a group of men who stood in neat lines before a large red mountain, and she realized that two of the men looked suspiciously like Raditz and Nappa.

Just that morning, she had woken up from a dream where they had met on a distant planet, where he had terrified her as they both competed in a search for what she had, in her dream, called Dragon Balls, wish-granting orbs that resembled the enchanted ball that had brought Vegeta into her life.

She dreamed of him every night, and she knew that she was bordering now on an insane obsession, but she reasoned that, it was still better than not seeing him at all, and just letting herself die alone in her room.

At least, with the dreams, she could be with him.

At least, in her dreams, Vegeta was alive.

After she finished her snack, she shook herself free of her thoughts as she stood, moving into the large laboratory that was adjacent to her office.

She sorted through her things until she finally found her ongoing project, a power core for a deep space machine that was inspired by her dream about meeting Vegeta on a distant planet.

In the dream, she had reached the strange green planet using a sophisticated ship that could enter into a form of hyperdrive, bypassing Earth physics and running at speeds faster than the speed of light.

She was trying to figure out if it would, in reality, be possible to engineer such a vehicle.

Bulma had been reading up on the possibilities of deep space exploration and the power sources that could potentially take the people of Earth into farther corners of the universe, but the answer constantly evaded her.

She was about to turn her attention to another project when she remembered a discussion that she had with Vegeta , just a few days after she and her family had returned to Capsule Corp.

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“So this is what your family does for a living,” he remarked, looking around her lab, peeking through the various machines and smaller components that littered her workspace to look at her from behind her cluttered work table.

“Yep! We are engineers! Well, my father and I are. We are inventors; scientists, actually. And this is my home!” she crowed, gesturing grandly at the mess of parts before her.

“And what, exactly, are you working on here?”

“Well,” she began, lifting an energy source from her table, showing him the glowing liquid inside the large fiberglass capsule. “I am trying to make a compound that could function as an alternate energy source so we don’t have to be so dependent on gasoline. I know that there are several other methods now, but this one,” she shook it, “could potentially be powerful enough to send us to the moon with only a liter of it needed.”

“Impressive,” he agreed, studying the mixture. “So it is a highly-concentrated energy source that could potentially power your vehicles into farther distances, with far less quantity.”

“Yes!” she said, beaming with pride.

He frowned slightly. “Did you take into consideration though, how a compound like that could potentially drain other components of your ships? It would not be enough fluid to sustain the other functions that you would need for a habitable vehicle.”

“What do you mean?”

“It would cause a chain reaction of sorts within your ship,” he explained. “The other motors will be needing to work at an equivalently higher rate of efficiency for that compound to be able to sustain all of the functions.”

She chewed her thumb nail thoughtfully. “So you’re saying that if I use this energy source, I need to adjust all other functions on the ship.”

He nodded. “But I am sure you already knew that. What you could consider is this: is your planet’s current technology ready for a machine that could accurately utilize this compound?”

She looked at him, impressed. She had no idea that he even had an interest in mechanical processes and electronics. “You make a good point. However, are you saying that this experiment is not practical, then?”

“I believe it would be ambitious to use this experimental fluid on a large machine, such as a space ship,” he clarified. “Perhaps, you would do well to try testing it on a smaller gadget, to test how far the energy can go, so you can more easily make the necessary calculations as you proceed to larger undertakings.”

She smiled at him then. “Why Vegeta, that is brilliant! Any suggestions on what I could use it on?”

Vegeta smirked. “How about one of those phones that you use to communicate? The ones that you keep charging all the time? Or perhaps, something practical, like a blaster gun?”

Bulma stood from her chair, excited. “Vegeta, that’s a great idea!” she exclaimed, picking up the green capsule. “I’m going to start a different experiment right now!”

She moved around the table, and when she reached him, she leaned up, leaving a light kiss on his cheek.

She immediately noticed the dark blush that stole over his cheeks, before he covered up his embarrassment with a scowl.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma went to the back of her office, opening a small drawer hidden behind her filing cabinets.

She reached in, smiling when her hand met the small item that she had stashed in there, a confidential little experiment that she had been working on without the knowledge of her father, an undeclared idea that she had personally financed so she can test its viability.

She pulled it out, and her smile turned melancholy as she continued to look at it.

It was a blaster gun.

She had decided to make a prototype, as Vegeta suggested, and she had completed her first model only a few hours before she had been abducted by Frieza, and everything that she knew had gone to hell in a hand basket.

The blaster was small and sleek, made of transparent fiberglass and polished titanium. Due to some adjustments she had to make in the internal machinery, the blaster was unconventional, and did not look like a typical gun.

The handle curved slightly around her hand, and when placed flat on a table, the shape reminded her of a glass and metal slipper. She had wanted to show it to Vegeta, but in all the action, had completely forgotten, and she stared at it now with a mixture of sadness and longing, as she tried to imagine how he would have reacted to seeing that she had managed to turn his suggestion into an actual prototype.

He would have been so proud.

She slowly placed the blaster back into the hidden drawer, knowing that it was actually a rather dangerous trinket, as she had seen the damage it could inflict, first-hand. She had tested it out on some very thick metal sheets, and the powercore had aided the blasts so that the gun had easily melted through the tough metals, and she knew that with the energy held by the weapon – a mere medicine capsule-sized chamber of the fluid – the gun would not need to have its energy cartridge replaced for a very long time.

She turned back to her current experiment, intent on working on it now, to take her mind off the bitter taste that the happy memory with Vegeta had left in her mouth.

8-8-8-8-8

She was in space. That much was clear.

However, it felt strange, as she realized that she was enclosed in a single pod that was controlled by nothing but a very small keypad with unrecognizable square-shaped symbols.

The darkness surrounding her was thick, and she could feel a dull throbbing on the side of her left arm, an inconvenient sensation that had her wanting to rip off her own limb.

Now, that right there, was an odd thought.

She reached behind her, pulling out a thick roll of paper containing diagrams written in a foreign script, and she stared at the schematics as if she could understand the letterings.

“Tch,” a very familiar voice said, the sound ringing clearly in her ears, as if the voice had come from her.

“This makes no sense,” the same voice muttered, frustrated, and Bulma felt shock enter her as she finally placed the voice.

Vegeta.

She wanted to turn, to look for him. She wanted to see him, but her body refused to follow her, only reaching up, and apparently turning on a very dull light within the space pod.

The light filled the pod, and she squinted, looking up at the thick glass window that was right in front of her.

She nearly jumped when she saw Vegeta’s face reflected back at her.

She looked down then, and she saw his very familiar hands clenching and unclenching in what she knew was his way of displaying annoyance.

It was then that Bulma understood, that she was in Vegeta’s body.

What a strange dream…

She watched his fingers reach forward, tapping on a few keys before him, before a small screen lit up, a low beeping sound filling the pod, before Nappa’s face showed up on the screen.

A communication screen.

Bulma noted that Nappa looked younger, maybe more than ten years younger than the one she met a few months ago.

“Nappa,” Vegeta said. “How is the squad? Did you bring the boy with you?”

“The squad is fine, your highness,” Nappa responded. “As for the boy, Kakarot is within the larger ship with Raditz.”

Kakarot. That was Goku.

“Good. That boy needs to be trained, Nappa. I can feel his power within him. Raw and unused. He could… he could be another Super Saiyan.”

Nappa looked shocked. “You believe so, my Prince?”

“Yes, I do. We need him to get stronger. He could be a powerful warrior, more so than Raditz and their father, Bardock, combined.”

“Raditz is a very strong fighter, your highness.”

“And Bardock, before his injury, was stronger. This boy is even stronger than that.”

Bulma listened to their exchange, realizing that this dream was about Vegeta’s time before he had been thrown into the ball.

“We will need him,” Vegeta continued, “in our rebellion against Frieza. I shall train him, myself.”

“He is but a boy, my lord,” Nappa responded.

“And I was even more of a boy when I had first been stolen by Frieza and forced to work for them, until my father retrieved me. Kakarot will be fine.”

Vegeta fidgeted then, bringing his right hand up to clutch at his left arm, and she felt him violently tug at the limb, the pain making stars flash behind her lids.

“As you see fit, my Prince”, Nappa said, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

“If I am right, and the boy does indeed ascend, then we will have two of us able to perform instant transmission. It would be a tremendous tactical advantage,” Vegeta said.

“And I am certain that he will be delighted to be trained by you,” Nappa said. “Raditz told me that the boy idolizes you tremendously. That he has said that he wishes to be just like the Prince.”

Bulma felt Vegeta smirk at that. “As he should.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma woke with a start, disoriented by the darkness.

As her eyes adjusted to the meager light, she realized that she was in her bedroom, lying down on her same, soft sheets, clutching her favorite pillow to her chest.

That had certainly been a strange dream.

She could still feel the throbbing in her left arm, the ache of an old injury that sometimes recurred and refused to fully heal.

“Wait a minute,” she muttered, as a very small memory surfaced.

She could distinctly remember Vegeta begin to use his right arm more and more as she watched him during his fight against Frieza.

His left arm could have had a recurring injury.

She bolted upright, unsettled.

That dream… did not feel like a dream, at all.

She immediately ran to her dresser, pulling her mobile phone out. Uncaring of the time, she scrolled down to the number of the one person she knew could help her understand what had happened.

The phone began to ring on the other end, and a few moments later, a groggy voice answered.

“Hello?” Goku greeted, voice thick with sleep.

“Goku! It’s Bulma.”

“Yeah, hi Bulma. It’s two in the mornin’,” he said.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I need help,” she said.

Goku’s voice was more alert as he answered. “Are you in trouble?”

“Not really, but-” she cut herself off when the familiar glow of the instant transmission appeared in her bedroom once again.

“What’s up?” Goku asked as soon as he materialized into her bedroom. He was wearing a loose shirt and boxer shorts, clearly coming directly from his bed.

“Goku, I am so sorry. I just wanted to ask you…” she said, hesitating before she continued. “When you were younger, did Vegeta train you, because he thought you could be Super Saiyan?”

“Well yeah,” he answered. “He asked Nappa and Raditz to bring me with them to the outer base one day, and the next, he showed up in the training arena to train me. I was shocked.”

She felt the blood drain from her face, as Goku tilted his head, regarding her more closely.

“He… Vegeta was taken hostage by Frieza, at one point, right?” she asked shakily.

Goku nodded. “He was with them for about seven Saiyan ages – fourteen Earth years – before King Vegeta started an uprising to retrieve him. It was during that battle that the Queen Papaya was killed, and Prince Vegeta turned Super Saiyan for the first time.”

Bulma felt her hands begin to shake as disbelief filled her.

She had been right… That was not a dream.

She had seen Vegeta’s memories.

But how?

Goku stared at her in concern. “Bulma, are you alright? Haven’t you been eating again, because you are a little pale.”

Bulma looked up at the tall Saiyan, a confused grin on her lips.

“I���m fine, Goku. More than fine. I think… I think I just dreamed of Vegeta’s memories.”

Goku’s eyes went wide. “What? How? That’s impossible, ain’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure that it’s supposed to be impossible,” she confirmed. “But I am sure. I saw Nappa, and I heard them talking about you having the power to ascend.”

Goku looked baffled. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I need something from you now, Goku. I need you to talk to Uranai.”

8-8-8-8-8

A day after Bulma sent Goku off to Uranai, she began researching on the theories regarding sleep and memory transfers. As of then, it was nothing but a part of science fiction mythos, but Bulma was sure that she could find something that could help her understand just how it could have been possible for Vegeta’s memories to have manifested in her dreams.

She spent the entire afternoon reading up on various sci-fi novels and conspiracy theories, and the only thing she could come up with were a few readings about soul bonding and psychic connections, but most stories concerned subjects who were both still alive.

As the day gave way to night, Bulma was nowhere closer to finding the answer to her questions, and she went home, feeling rather dejected that her research had basically gone nowhere.

She contemplated calling Goku to ask how his trip to Uranai had gone, if his asking the old crone for her theories had been more successful than her own efforts, but she decided against it, thinking that she could just call him in the morning. It was a bit late, after all, and she didn’t want to bother his sleep twice in a row.

She went to bed then, hoping that she would dream once again of Vegeta, or that the answers to her questions would come to her in her sleep.

8-8-8-8-8

It was scorching.

Flames licked up every single inch of her skin, and she wanted to recoil from the agonizing heat of the perpetual fires that surrounded her.

However, her feet remained pinned down, and she realized that she was being held against an iron-like beam, her arms and feet bound by spiked chains around the searing barrier.

Around her were screams of agony, and she could sense the anger boiling up inside her, deep hatred for her situation blistering inside her soul as the fires torched her limbs.

The flames never left a mark, but the endless pain remained.

It was hell.

She wanted to scream, but her pride warred with her need to let her suffering be heard, and she remained silent, teeth gnashing in fury as she tried valiantly to ignore the ongoing torture.

A large blast of fire appeared beside her, clearing up to reveal the form of a large man with red skin, with horns protruding from the top of his head. He had terrifying yellow eyes with slitted black irises, a dark goatee, and he wore a large blue cloak with a long white cape.

She felt herself spit in disdain, a growl rising from her chest.

“Dabura,” she felt herself say, and Bulma was once again surprised to realize that the voice belonged to Vegeta.

She was in Vegeta’s body, once again, probably dreaming of another memory.

Vegeta’s voice had been dripping in contempt, so Bulma thought that perhaps, this was a part of his servitude under Frieza.

“Hello, your majesty,” the large, demonic man greeted sarcastically. “I do hope you are enjoying your stay.”

“Fuck you,” Vegeta hissed.

“Unfortunately for you, I do not find you attractive,” Dabura laughed. “I believe the only ones who would ever fuck you are your Saiyan courtesans, because they didn’t really have a choice, did they?”

“Tch,” Vegeta said. “I’ll have you know that I was the favorite lay of all the Saiyan courtesans.”

“And who was your favorite lay, Prince Vegeta?”

Vegeta shut his mouth, pinching his lips hard against the urge to say something caustic back.

Dabura laughed. “Oh, I had nearly forgotten. You did fall hard for that little Earthling woman, did you not?”

“You fucking leave her out of this, Dabura,” Vegeta growled.

Bulma felt his anger rising once again, and she realized that Dabura had hit a sore spot with Vegeta.

Wait… an Earthling? Vegeta had never been to Earth before he was sealed. Could this mean…

“Would you like to see her again, Prince?”

Vegeta turned his head away from Dabura, but the large devil simply floated towards him, holding out a small mirror that began to glow in his hands.

“Watch, you wretch. Watch!” Dabura leered, and Bulma saw the mirror begin to turn into a viewing screen of sorts.

She could see her bedroom, and she saw a small lump of blankets gathered into the center of her bed.

It took her less than a moment to realize that the lump was none other than her.

It was as she had been while she was still deep in her depression, a frail bundle of skin and bones that refused to get up from her bed, the worst version of herself that had been wishing for nothing but death.

It was difficult, even for her, to see.

She felt Vegeta gasp as his eyes fell on her miserable form, and she felt him clench his hands into tight fists. She felt his conflict, his wanting to look away, but being unable to tear his gaze from the sight of her in her darkest moments.

“Do you see, Vegeta? See how you have made this woman suffer?” Dabura asked, and Vegeta gulped, as she felt an onslaught of guilt and pain fill his chest, a pain that made the agony of the flames licking at his body seem dull in comparison.

“You were so selfish, Prince. If you had never tried to come back to life, this woman would still be living her wonderful life, full of energy and happiness,” Dabura whispered maliciously. “She would never have been targeted by Frieza, would never have had to suffer from her father’s trial. She would never have had to be in such pain…”

“Shut up!” Vegeta choked out. “Stop this, stop this right now!”

“Listen to her cry, Prince!” Dabura said, and all at once, Bulma heard her own voice surround them, her heart-wrenching cries of her own suffering leaving Vegeta breathless in despair and guilt.

“Vegeta… Why… Why?” she heard her voice say weakly, and Vegeta closed his eyes, willing the vision and sound of her sadness away.

“Please…” Vegeta began, and Bulma was shocked at the rawness of his voice. “Please stop. Let her just live. She… she does not deserve to be in this sort of pain. This was all because of me.”

“Well, I am glad that you at least know that, Prince,” Dabura said gleefully, removing the mirror as he began to back away from Vegeta. “Until the next time, your highness.”

With that, Dabura disappeared, leaving a despondent Vegeta to breathe heavily, fighting the despair in his heart.

Bulma could do nothing but listen to his harsh breaths, feel the heaving of his chest and the single tear that trickled down his cheek.

“Bulma,” he whispered, his voice soft, loving, reverent. “Be safe, my beloved...”

8-8-8-8-8

As she woke from the dream, Bulma bolted up, her chest heavy with Vegeta’s pained thoughts, her limbs still stinging from the fires that burned her body from the inside and out.

She had been in literal hell.

Vegeta was in hell.

And he was in extreme agony.

She stood up, pacing her room as she gathered the scattered bits of her mind to piece together all that she had learned.

Vegeta was dead, but somehow, whether he knew it or not, he was still communicating with her. Perhaps, it was the fact that their spirits had been linked for so long, that he was able to reach out to her from the afterlife.

Perhaps… if he was still linked with her…

Then maybe, she could still have him back.

She looked out the window, smiling at the rising sun, as she went to her cabinets and pulled out a pair of denim jeans and a comfortable white shirt.

She ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, then she dressed hurriedly, before she picked up her phone, and dialed.

“Hello,” the man’s voice was more alert than the last time she had called, so perhaps, he had already been awake this time.

“Goku, hi.”

“Bulma, great that you called! I found something when I went to Uranai yesterday-”

“You can tell me later. I need you to come and pick me up, now,” she said.

Goku paused. “Where are we going?”

She grinned.

“We are going to Uranai, you and I,” she said. “We are going to bring Vegeta back.”

8-8-8-8-8

To be continued…

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#tpthvegebulmayhem2018 #tpth #week4mayhem2018 #vegebul #vegebul fanfiction #ratedE #db au #dragon ball au #vegebul au #romance #fantasy #action #dark #trigger #depression #dragon ball #the final price fic #scarletraven fanfiction

[general-nion]

The General And Her Hostess

I wait a few moments after that woman, Geneva, left the room. A few cursory glances around the room I’m in give no signs of threat or ambush. If anything the entire place is sickeningly…home-y. The walls are painted an off white while similarly soft decor make up the majority of the room. The curtains to the window are lace and tied back with ribbons while one wall boasts a delicately designed golden filigree mounted to it.

Is this hell?

Throwing back the covers causes me to grimace at the stiffness in my right shoulder. Can’t be dead if I’m registering something so mundane.

Catching sight of a full length mirror helps me manage to force myself to my feet so I can finally get a better look at the full damage I’ve taken.

Three days. She said I had been unconscious for three days and It showed.

Stitches hold my skin together in a handful of places, but the most noticeable is a wound that stretches an honest 5 inches across my left hip- Wait a minute.

What in the hell am I wearing?

My reflection shows my clear disgust at the cotton shorts I’ve been dressed in that are patterned with, what? Are those cupcakes? Oh for the love of-! Even the tank top has a matching emblem across the chest.

All of this paired with my unruly hair being successfully brushed back into a ponytail causes me to appear almost adolescent. If it wasn’t for hard earned muscle definition and the multiple stitched and bandaged wounds I’m sure I could almost pass for some sort of civilian. Horrible.

Embarrassment fuels my speed so I can grab the door to open it. That woman had a lot of explaining to do! I led armies! Destroyed civilizations! I would not be dressed in such a manner-

My rage is silenced with a crack! As the door is ripped from its hinges and stands haphazardly from the grip I still have on its handle.

...gravity is also broken here. Terrific. I hate this planet.

“Sugar are you alright- What the hell have you done to my door?!”, the red head comes running around the corner but stops dead in her tracks to see the door in my grasp.

“What did I do?! What did you do?! Where is my armor? I demand you return it to me at once! I will not suffer another minute in this idiotic clothing!”, I toss the door to the side, not caring as it crashes halfway through the wall it collided with.

“Your armor, much like my door and now my wall, is a bunch of busted junk!”, she looks angry but then takes a deep breath and seems to visibly deflate, “Look, I couldn’t let ya lay around in that armor. Especially since most of what was missin’ from it was found IN ya when the Doc’s fixed ya up. If you don’t like the pajamas then I’m sure I can find you something else, but for now, Dinner is gonna get cold if you keep rippin’ doors off their hinges.”

“You should watch the way you speak to me, woman. For your own health.”, cupcakes be damned. I was not going to be talked to like a child!

“Did I miss somethin’? Cause I’m not the one who had to be dug outta crater or who cried in her sleep.”, her hands rest on her hips and she fixes me with an unimpressed look.

I just blink. She’s an idiot. She has to be. I don’t even need a scouter to tell she has next to no power level but even without any strength she should be able to tell that talking in such a way could warrant that I kill her.

“You should be a bit more grateful, Sugar. You could have died.”

“You should have let me.”, My tone causes a frown to fall on her face before she takes yet another very deep breath.

“Doubt that Frieza fellow would have appreciated that very much.”

“He- what?! What are you talking about?”, words fail me. Did I miss something? Is she actually a threat? Have I been lured into some kind of fake hospitality?

“Frieza? Odd name if ya ask me, but the way you kept sobbin’ like a baby and sayin’ his name I imagine whoever he is wouldn’t like it if I let you die.”

“You don’t know him. And you don’t know me.”

“Still helped ya, didn’t I?”

“...you mentioned dinner?”

Thankfully her whole face brightened and she turned to lead me toward where we would be eating. Last thing I wanted to do was rehash any of THAT with this odd woman.

And luckily she opted to remain quiet while we ate. Though I would grant her one impressive talent. She could cook. The last thing I expected was for such an extensive meal to be ready on the table.

Bowls filled with rice, varieties of meat stuffed dumplings, vegetables, and some kind of broth were all set across the table with an admirable eye to detail.

My mouth began to water and I was struck with how absolutely starved I was. I had forgotten to check the date when I was forced from Hypersleep so there was no telling how long the nutrients from the Cryopod had kept me sustained.

My face must have give away my eagerness because that woman just smiled and gestures toward the food, “Help yourself. If you’re still hungry after this I can always whip up some more!”

I barely spared her a glance before I dashed to a seat and started piling a plate high of food. Caution to the wind. She could be poisoning me right now, but my stomach and energy reserves couldn’t care less at the given moment.

It took no time on my part to clear the entire table, especially since halfway through it the woman brought out a plate of rolls that made it child’s play to eat every dripping.

My manners were probably absolute shit during this but it was mouth watering. All of it. Not a single thing was over done or underwhelming. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps that woman was some form of angel. Maybe I wasn’t sent to hell due to some ironic mix up that put me in Heaven.

I smacked my lips in satisfaction and leaned back in the seat, “Ah, my apologies. Did I eat everything?”

“Oh don’t you fret about it, doll! I had already eaten before you woke up.”, she smiles and my suspicions that she wasn’t an actual mortal were slowly being confirmed.

“Then what were you doing in the kitchen while I ate?”

A ding echoed from the kitchen the moment I finished that sentence and Geneva jumped to her feet in a graceful flourish, “You’ll see! Sit tight!”

Before I could even think to question her sudden rush she was to and back from the kitchen in the blink of an eye with something covered with a piece of cloth in both of her hands.

A delightfully sugary scent filled my nose and to my embarrassment I felt my nose actually twitching at the smell. On instinct and gluttonous instinct I began to rise my seat to get a better look at what she held.

“What in the world is that?”

“Figured you’d have room for dessert! So I went ahead and threw together a lil’ somethin’.”

The plate was set in front of me and I sat back down while she pulled the cloth off of whatever pastry she had made.

“Hope ya like cherry pie, doll!”

“...perhaps I won’t kill you in your sleep.”

That was the last she was able to get out of me before I ravenously dug into the Pie laid before me.

Heavenly. Delightful. Wonderful.

I’d always possessed a sweet tooth, but this? Oh this could easily spare the woman’s life.

Geneva seemed content to hum to herself while she worked around me to clear away the empty remains of dinner from the tabletop. I still questioned her full intent, but a lapse in suspicion could be allowed. Absolutely allowed.

My respite was short lived, however. The moment I finished that delectable pie she replaced it with some warm drink that smelled of cocoa and sat across from me.

“So I think we can both agree that ya owe me some sort of explanation. And, ya know, your name? I can’t keep subbing in pet names forever.”

I examined the way she sat for just a moment. She wasn’t tensed and she held no malice in her eyes. Just genuine concern mixed with curiosity.

“Nion. My name is Nion.”, I followed her lead and relaxed back against the chair, “I am a First Class Saiyan from the Planet Vegeta. I have been thrown from grace and had the misfortune to have the highest probability of survival to land on your property.”

Gold eyes blinked once. Twice. Three times.

“So...you’re like, an alien or somethin’? That’s what you’re tellin’ me?”

Ah, that’s right. This planet hasn’t had alien contact, has it?

“Exactly.”

“Saiyan...is that what your people are called?”

“Yes. We are a proud race of warriors that thrive in blood baths and domination. A glorious people that were granted the chance to expand amongst the stars.”, pride begins to swell in my chest as I become reminiscent. I’d had a handful of good friends amongst my people. Less than the enemies among them I had made though. Would I ever see them again, I wonder?

“Um...not to sound incredibly ignorant, but y’all ain’t comin’ to take over…here, are ya?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”, I scoff, “Your planet holds next to no value on the market. I am here because I had no other choice.”

Geneva sips from her drink and hums softly, “You ran away from something.”

“...you’re perceptive.”

“Oh don’t look so surprised! I’m not just a nice figure and a pretty face. I make a livin’ off of figuring’ out what makes people hurt on the inside.”, she tilts her head a bit and looks me over, “You’re heartbroken, alone, and scared. You did somethin’ you didn’t wanna, hurt someone you didn’t wanna, and now ya don’t have anyway to move on past it.”

I’m stunned to silence. And my mind is changed. Hell. I’m in hell and this Geneva who bakes pies and cares for others is an evil entity sent to personally torture me.

“Got it right on the head, didn’t I?”, her cup is set on the table with a soft clink, “I’m sorry you had to go through whatever you did, but I do want you to know you’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. Can’t imagine it’d be easy for a literal alien to be integrated into society without some kind of help.”

“I don’t need your help.”, I spit it out before I can think and my teeth bare in a snarl, “You’ve done all of this foolishness without anyone asking you too and you’ve stuck your nose into my business with absolutely no right to do so.”

“You didn’t have to ask me to help you, Nion.”, how dare she look so unaffected by my hostility, “If you don’t want my help you can dig through the clothes here till you find something you like and then you can up and leave. Stay the night if you feel the need.”

She shrugs so casually, “I can’t make ya do nothin’ ya don’t want to, Sugar. Someone else in your life can, and did, but I can’t and won’t. You make your own decisions and live your own life.”

Pushing her chair back she rises from the table and grabs her cup, “It’s late and I’ll be headin’ to bed. Stay, leave, destroy it all, it’s not my place to stop you. If ya need my help, though, all ya gotta do is ask.”

Geneva leaves me alone in the dining room with only the warm drink to sit with me. I would not be guilted into accepting her help. I wouldn’t.

Frustrated I kick my own chair back and pace over to the window that looks over the yard I crash landed in. The crater left from the impact was rather impressive, but it would seem I caused a lot of damage as well.

A roll of my right shoulder proved that it was nearly healed. My earlier discomfort must have been stiff muscles.

I had caused a lot of damage, hadn’t I?

It took no time to find some simple dark loose fitting pants and a jacket that would cover the atrocious top I was wearing and my bandaging. The back door makes no sound as I flick the lock and exit the house. Nothing stirs when I go soaring into the night air.

________________________________________

Geneva expected to woken up by her alarm clock. Not by whatever in God’s name that horrible noise was. It sounded like a lawnmower was directly outside her house. Which was impossible because she specifically paid her lawn maintenance workers to work when she WASN’T asleep.

She throws on a sheer house coat with fur trimmings before she leaves her room and follows the noise to her backyard.

“What the hell is goin’ on out...here…”, she falls silent in shock at the sight before her.

That crater that had been in her yard was now completely gone. As in, never happened gone. In its place was a lovely green lawn. Complete with a new flower bed that bordered around a walkway that led to a fully functioning three tiered fountain.

“I see you’ve finally chosen to wake up.”

Geneva jerks to the left to see me kneeling in front of the control panel to the fountain I had installed into the side of her home.

“What did- when did...what is this?”, her surprise is funny and I snicker before pushing myself to stand.

“It’s a thank you, and a sort of apology for destroying your yard.”, I notice her eyes dart back to the fountain and I huff, “The fountain was too much, wasn’t it? I thought it may be, but you have so much wasted space back here I figured it would be a nice place holder…”

Geneva gapes and doesn’t say anything and now I’m starting to feel ridiculous. “I should have left it at just filling the crater and laying the new sod. This is too much and you don’t like it. I can remove it if you don’t like it-“

“This is the bee’s knees!”, I’m nearly thrown off my feet when she throws her arms around me, but my surprise is short lived by the panicked Yelp she makes.

On reflex I must have wrenched her arms back behind her to subdue her attack...er…her gratitude.

I let go of her immediately and grimace as I try to right her housecoat, “That was stupid. I shouldn’t have...this is all stupid. I’ve made this worse haven’t I?”

To her credit she collects herself quickly and waved off my concern, “No no! Warrior race. I remember. Didn’t think it out too clearly.”

She smiles and turns back to the work I’ve done, “This is amazing, Nion! Absolutely amazing! You didn’t have to do any of this!”, her eyes twinkle in mirth, “Didn’t have to stay either.”

I clear my throat and reflexively square my posture, “I assure you it wasn’t any trouble. The least I could do for your help during my predicament. Though...you do like it?”

“Adore it. An amazing job!”, she giggles like a giddy child, “Now let’s go back inside! I’ll make some coffee an’ some breakfast! Then you can tell me where you got all of this stuff.”

“Ah, no need to wait that long. I took it.”, I grin cheekily at her shocked expression, “I did not steal anything. You humans seem unable to do many simple tasks. I was told that unloading approximately three tons of inventory takes hours for you people. Completing such a chore in half an hour is apparently rewarded with whatever I felt I needed for this endeavor.”

“Uh Huh…”, I follow behind her back into her home, “Welp! Then I guess you have my thanks, sugar! And I guess you’ll be stickin’ around a little longer?”

“I suppose. I’ve yet to find a better prospect.”

“Glad to hear it.”

#frieza #lord frieza #dbz #frieza fanfiction #dbz fanfiction

[tpthvegebulevents]

MAYHEM 2018 - WEEK 4 - [ANON A] “THE FINAL PRICE”

Title: The Final Price

Chapter Summary: Vegeta’s gone, and Bulma is finding it impossible to cope with his death. In the midst of her sorrow, she finds hope when she begins to have strange dreams about him, and she realizes that there just might be a way to bring him back.

Genre: AU / Romance / Angst

Rating: E

Chapter Warnings: Profane language; Triggers: Mentions of depression and thoughts of suicide; Torture; Slight sexual content.

Prompt: The Glass Slipper

Word Count: 7,540

Chapter 5: The Undying Bond

(Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8)

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

In her thirty years of existence, Bulma had, on several occasions, experienced what it was like to be sad.

She had gone through breakups, and she had lost friends. She had even, at one point, lost literally everything, and has had close friends and family members pass away.

Loss and death were not new to her.

However, the feelings of hopelessness, her conviction that things would never get better, the complete loss of her will to even get up every morning… those were new.

She had usually dealt with her sadness and frustrations by burying herself in her work or studies, by going out with friends or by taking short vacations.

She had tried so hard to do the same things this time around, but she just couldn’t.

She could not keep her mind on her work, making stupid mistakes because of her wandering thoughts that made her lose her concentration.

She had thrown an epic tantrum when she failed to solve a simple equation that she previously could have done with only one eye half open and both hands tied behind her back.

She had filed for an indefinite leave of absence from work, after that frankly embarrassing meltdown.

Her parents were worried, confused as to why she had suddenly become so despondent and angry.

She didn’t care.

She did not want to see anyone, did not want to talk to anybody.

Every step she took made her shake with agony.

Every bite of food felt like sand on her tongue.

She was smart enough to recognize the signs...

She had never before truly realized that there was a profound difference between being simply miserable, and being depressed.

She needed to be strong enough to fight it…

But she did not want to.

Vegeta’s death had hit her hard, like nothing she had ever experienced before.

She loathed herself, for being useless, for being unable to save him, for ultimately not being able to do anything to keep him alive.

She was so utterly lost, so unspeakably dejected, and all she wanted to do was lock herself up in her room all day and sleep.

Yet all she saw, every time she closed her eyes, were gruesome images of his last moments… the ki beam that struck his heart, his shaky final breaths, the look of pride and acceptance in his eyes right before he faded from her arms.

All these horrible memories fill the backs of her eyelids, yet she preferred sleep to wakefulness, because in slumber, she found some relief.

Perhaps, if she slept, she could dream of him. Maybe she would have a vision of him, see him as he was in the afterlife.

Oh, how she wanted to join him.

But she could not, because he had asked her to stay safe.

“Stay safe. My precious Blue Moon…”

She could not, should not, kill herself, because she could not bear to disrespect his memory, his hard work and sacrifice, by failing him at this.

“My Bulma…”

She felt the tears sting her eyes, and she tried and failed to hold them back.

It had been three weeks.

She still could not get his voice out of her head.

She could still feel his hands on her body, his kisses upon her lips.

“My Bulma…”

She could still feel how cold his skin had felt as he began to fade into nothingness, how his lips had trembled beneath hers as he fought to keep his pain to himself, even as he wasted away.

He was gone.

Her Vegeta was gone.

And to her, it truly felt as if a part of her soul had died with him, as well.

Maybe, her soul really had been ripped apart.

After all, he was her soulmate. It made perfect sense for her very spirit to cry out and scream at his demise.

It wasn’t fair.

How dare the world just ignorantly go on, when Vegeta was no longer in it.

At the moment, Bulma was staring numbly out her large bedroom windows and into the distance, her eyes hurting from the weak rays of sunlight that filtered in.

She was hunched in on herself in bed, her hair a matted disarray while her white shirt hung loosely around her frame.

Vegeta had hugged her, while she wore that shirt.

He had lain his head on her pillow as he wrapped his arms around her, an arrogant smirk on his face as he told her of how he was going to melt that shirt off her if she didn’t immediately take it off.

The pillow he had laid his head on, was the same one he had placed under her hips, using it so he can tilt her up as he thrust into her more deeply. It was the one he had slept on after their last moments of passion, one night before he fought Frieza.

She had her arms wrapped around that pillow then, refusing to part with it in spite of the stains from her endless tears.

It was all she had left of him.

She had lost his amulet when she got kidnapped, and she never even managed to take a fucking picture with him.

A stained pillow case was all she had left.

It was so utterly unfair.

A soft knock came on her door, pulling her slightly from her lonely thoughts, and she looked on morosely as the knob turned.

Her mother’s small blond head peeked in, her normally jovial eyes brimming with concern while her small mouth was turned down in a sad frown.

“Bulma, baby? May I come in?”

Bulma nodded, and Panchy walked in slowly, feet hesitantly padding across the floor.

She sat down on the edge of the large bed, while Bulma squinted at her, waiting for her to speak.

Panchy took a deep breath, before she resolutely turned to Bulma.

“Baby, you know I love you, right?” she said softly, reaching forward to stroke Bulma’s thin hand that was clutching tightly at her pillow.

Bulma nodded.

Panchy stared at her, and Bulma watched helplessly as small tears began leaking out of Panchy’s eyes.

“You’re my little girl. And I love you. So, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” the blond said, scooting closer to Bulma.

She started speaking again. “That morning, when those three men brought you here… you were unconscious and so pale. When I asked them where the fourth man was, they didn’t say anything. And you… you never spoke to me either, Bulma.”

Panchy began sobbing as she looked at Bulma, watched her pale blue eyes look back at her blankly. “I want to help you, Bulma. Like you helped me when I was sick. I can feel… I can feel that your heart is sick too, but I don’t know why. Please baby, let me help you.”

Bulma drew her brows together, not even realizing that the tears had started flowing from her eyes, as well.

“Mom,” she said softly. “No one… no one can help me. It’s over.”

“No! Don’t say that, Bulma!” Panchy exclaimed, lunging at her and pulling her into her arms.

Panchy began to weep, soft, feminine sobs that broke Bulma’s heart just a little bit more, and before she knew it, she had clung to her mother, bawling desperately into her chest as she heard her own voice begin to cry out.

“He’s gone mom! He’s gone! Vegeta’s gone!” Bulma kept wailing, pounding the mattress with her fists as the very words made her body ache physically.

“Oh Bulma, do you mean he left, or-”

“He’s dead!” Bulma screamed, and she realized then that it was the very first time that she had dared say the words out loud.

She had never had the courage to acknowledge his loss out loud, in a fool’s hope that if she didn’t say it, maybe it could stop being true...

“He’s dead! And I – I couldn’t do anything, mom! I just sat there. He’s gone!” she cried, slumping into her mother, seeking comfort from her mother’s loving hold.

But Bulma was trying to fool herself. She knew that her mother’s calming touch would never be enough.

She could only ever find her peace from a thick pair of powerful arms that would never hold her, ever again.

“Oh baby, I’m – I’m so sorry!” Panchy whispered into her hair as she rained kisses on Bulma’s head.

Her mother spoke to her as she cried, and Bulma heard her mother trying desperately to hush her, to soften the flow of her tears.

“I knew… I knew there was something there… but I never realized that he meant so much to you! I wondered why a random team of soldiers had gone to rescue you when you got kidnapped,” Panchy said softly. “Oh Bulma, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

“I miss him, mom. I need him. I don’t know how I could go on,” she sobbed, as she felt her mother push her down, gently lowering her so that she was laying flat on her bed.

Panchy sniffed as she pulled blankets around her, tucking her in before she lay beside Bulma as well, hugging her tight as they cried together.

“Bulma, I am sure that it hurts. But you have to try to move on. He… he would have wanted you to be happy, don’t you think?”

She nodded, sniffling loudly. “He… he gave his life for me. He refused to save himself because he wanted me to… to stay safe.”

Bulma peered up at her mother. “He… he called me, my Bulma. Do you… do you think he loved me, mom? Because I love him... I love him so much.”

Panchy burst into tears once again, pulling Bulma tight, laying her head close to her chest like she used to do when Bulma had been little, and upset over little things.

“Yes baby. I’m sure he did. It is impossible not to love you, my sweet little girl.”

Bulma sobbed against her mother until she was exhausted, and Panchy just patiently held her, offering her silent support as she soothed her motherly hands across Bulma’s back.

It took a long time, but Bulma finally felt the stirrings of sleep begin to wash over her, and before she knew it, she was lost in slumber, away from the aches of the waking world, and into the sweet nothingness of the darkness of unconsciousness.

Yet… it was not darkness that greeted Bulma as she succumbed to sleep.

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

She could still feel the dampness of her sweat as it dried slowly on her body.

She snuggled closer to Vegeta, laying her head close to his hard chest. She knew that the abnormal heat of his body should have been uncomfortable, but to her, it was like being in the gentle clouds of heaven, where nothing could harm her, and nothing could hurt her. It was just the two of them, nestled in each other’s arms, luxuriating in the warmth of their hearts.  

A small feather fell onto her nose, cutting off her tender musings.  She tried to flick it off with her breaths, blowing out her mouth so that the air would push it off her face.

Vegeta had ripped one of her pillows apart while in the throes of passion. She absolutely did not mind.

She felt his chuckle as it rumbled across his chest, before she heard the soft snickers leave his lips.

She watched him lift a hand, and he quickly plucked the offending feather from her before he lowered his head to drop a small kiss on the tip of her nose.

“I am sorry for the pillow,” he said with a totally non-apologetic smirk. “I can fix it.”

“Nah, it’s alright. Leave it for now,” she grinned back. She reached a hand up to trace the contours of his chest with the tips of her fingers, peeking up at him through her lashes. “I rather like the reminder that I was just so good in bed that you had to rip something up. It’s so… feral.”

She laughed as she watched him blush at her teasing.

She expected him to get back at her with an arrogant rebuttal, but the hand that he placed on her cheek, along with the soft look that entered his normally-stern eyes, threw her for a loop.

“I will admit this much, Bulma,” he whispered, as if a part of him was hesitant to say the words. “Being with you tonight was… different.”

“Different in a good way?” she asked, breathless at his solemn confession.

He nodded. “I have never… It has never been this way before. I nearly lost control.”

“Maybe it has just been too long?” she asked, hoping that it wasn’t for that reason.

It had been so incredible for her, as well.

He shook his head, and she nearly sighed in relief.

“No, it is not that… you are my most incredible experience,” he admitted.

She flushed happily, beaming brightly up at him. “That’s great Vegeta, because… it was amazing for me, too.”

He smiled back.”Don’t let it get to your head, woman.”

She laughed, huffing jokingly as she answered. “Excuse me? You’re the one with the huge head!”

“Oh, is that how it is going to be?” he growled, a playful smirk on his face as he turned, pouncing on her, hands crawling up and down her sides, making her squirm before her laughter began to ring around her bedroom.

“No! No tickling!” she yelled, trying in vain to push away from his hands.

He started laughing as well, tickling her sides more vigorously. “I got you now, and I am not letting go!”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

She opened her eyes slowly as she woke, already feeling the tears welling up behind her lids.

She smiled bitterly as she recalled the last vestiges of her dream, her memory of happier times with Vegeta.

“But you did let go, Vegeta. You let go…”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

The next morning was too bright, too cheerful, and Bulma almost felt as if she wanted to vomit as she tried and failed to get up from her bed.

It was really pointless, getting up. Why should she even bother?

She was contemplating going back to sleep, when a bright flash of light suddenly appeared inside her bedroom, and she gaped as a male form with spiky, golden hair materialized before her.

A dozen flashbacks went through her mind as she screamed, tumbling carelessly from her bed as she bolted without thought towards the man who had appeared with his back to her, wearing a blue tank top and loose black pants.

“Vegeta!” she screamed, heart pounding through her ribcage as she desperately tried to move towards him…

Was he truly back?

The man turned, and the hopeful spark within her chest died as quickly as it had been lit, when she realized that the person standing before her was definitely not her dead lover.

It was Goku.

Indescribable rage filled her as he turned to look at her.

“What are you doing here?!” she roared, making him visibly recoil.

How dare he get her hopes up?

How dare he remind her of what she had lost?

“Bulma, I’m sorry,” Goku said, raising his hands up in a gesture of placation. “I just wanted to check up on you again. I didn’t think you would be awake.”

Bulma’s rage continued to simmer. “What do you mean, again?”

Goku winced. “I have been checking on you once every three days. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She finally untangled herself from her sheets, rising up to stand and glaring lividly at Goku.

“Look at me! Do I look alright to you, Goku?” she yelled.

She knew her anger was unwarranted, but she was unable to stem the venom that flowed through her.

Goku appeared to deflate. “No, you don’t. You don’t look alright at all. You look awful.”

She glared. “Oh well, thank you, Goku! I-”

“You look sick,” he said, brows furrowing. “You are very thin. You look like you aren’t eating.”

Bulma was taken aback as she noted Goku’s hands clenching, and she watched his face slowly morph from a look of concern to one of irritation.

“You ain’t taking care of yourself, are ya?” he accused, and Bulma cringed under the accusation in his eyes. “Bulma, why? You have to treat yourself better. You-”

“What’s the point?” she asked bitterly. “Why should I?! There’s nothing left for me here. He’s gone, so why should I even-”

“He gave his life for you!” Goku said loudly, shocking her into silence.

She gaped at him, watching his aura flare angrily around him.

“Our Prince, our leader, who we waited thirty Earth years for, gave up on a chance to reestablish the Saiyan race because he couldn’t bear to let you die. He gave up on his legacy,” Goku hissed, “because you meant more to him than me, Raditz and Nappa combined, more than the thirty years of waiting and plotting to rise and lead us again. And all you are doing in exchange for his sacrifice is letting yourself waste away. The least you can do is to respect his death by surviving.”

He turned away from her, angrily looking out her window, and she was struck by the visible similarities between Vegeta and his fellow Saiyan.

That straight and powerful stance, the strong arms and narrowed, determined eyes... Vegeta and Goku looked nothing alike, yet, standing here now, Bulma could fully appreciate the fact that these men truly were not ordinary humans, as their presence resonated with something unmistakably powerful, and she was awestruck by the display.

Goku sighed, powering down so his hair turned back to its usual dark, spiky look. He turned back to her, his face now softer and slightly contrite. “I am sorry for shouting, Bulma. But Vegeta was our Prince. Our ruler, even before his father died. The first Saiyan to ascend to Super Saiyan in a thousand ages. We all looked up to him.”

He walked towards her, taking her limp hands in his, a brotherly gesture that had Bulma near-tears as she sensed his sadness through his somber gaze.

“He… he was my idol,” Goku said, swallowing audibly. “He had been telling me that I had what it took to ascend, and I never would’a tried so hard if it weren’t for him always telling me that I could. It… it hurts to know that he is really gone.”

“It does. It really does hurt, Goku. I… I’m sorry if I’m like this… I just… I can’t handle it,” she whispered, and she felt him steering her to sit on her bed, before he himself crouched before her, rocking back on his haunches as he watched her.

“You have to try Bulma. He wouldn’t wanna see you like this. And I’m here because I want you to be safe, like he asked. So I’m gonna try to look after you, alright?” he said. “I see why Vegeta liked you. You’re a strong girl. If I remember right, back on the mountain those years ago, you were the toughest in your group. You have to be that tough girl, again.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I… I am going to try. I am going to really try, Goku.”

He smiled back. “You should.”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

The visit from Goku shook Bulma, and she decided then that she had to at least make an effort to try to get things to go back to normal.

She knew it would be impossible, but she should at least try to attain a semblance of normalcy, if not for her, then for the people who loved her and were worried for her.

Also, for Vegeta.

Goku had been right. Vegeta wanted her to be safe, he wanted her to live her life, and she was going to try, for him.

She tried to fight back the urge to stay in bed all day. She took baths with her phone right beside her, so she can call her mother to fetch her from the bathroom if the shudders started up again, or if she felt the urge to either not get out at all or to just drown herself in the bathtub.

She asked Goku for his number – which he had to go back home for a second to retrieve from his wife, Chichi – so she can call him whenever she was feeling down.

It apparently helped, to have somebody around who could understand the pain of her loss.

Bulma opened up to Lazuli, her assistant, and the blond surprised Bulma by sharing that she, apparently, had gone through a dark period as well when her parents passed away, leaving her and her twin brother as homeless orphans.

She tried to offer some help, supplying Bulma with books that had helped her cope with her own loss, and though Bulma knew that the self-help books would not really offer her much peace of mind, she took them, grateful for the kinship that she now shared more keenly with Lazuli.

Bulma tried to look back at her memories with Vegeta more fondly, and as the weeks passed, she found herself slowly becoming more able to smile as she remembered his words and arrogant smiles.

She could remember their small conversations, his nitpicking at her messy lab and office. She smiled as she chewed thoughtfully at some pineapple, remembering his face as he sniffed in disdain at how lazy humans were for slicing their fruit into bite-sized bits.

There was, however, one thing that helped keep her happier, that began after she cried her eyes out after coming clean to her mother… after she finally acknowledged out loud, that Vegeta was gone.

She had begun to dream of him.

The dreams were happy dreams, full of memories of their few days together, and sometimes of random encounters that she knew had never happened, and had regarded as simple figments of her imagination.

She thought of them more as alternate universe versions of a life with Vegeta.

She had once dreamed of them flying off to South City to fight villainous androids, where one of them looked uncannily like Lazuli.

She also once dreamed of watching him talking to a group of men who stood in neat lines before a large red mountain, and she realized that two of the men looked suspiciously like Raditz and Nappa.

Just that morning, she had woken up from a dream where they had met on a distant planet, where he had terrified her as they both competed in a search for what she had, in her dream, called Dragon Balls, wish-granting orbs that resembled the enchanted ball that had brought Vegeta into her life.

She dreamed of him every night, and she knew that she was bordering now on an insane obsession, but she reasoned that, it was still better than not seeing him at all, and just letting herself die alone in her room.

At least, with the dreams, she could be with him.

At least, in her dreams, Vegeta was alive.

After she finished her snack, she shook herself free of her thoughts as she stood, moving into the large laboratory that was adjacent to her office.

She sorted through her things until she finally found her ongoing project, a power core for a deep space machine that was inspired by her dream about meeting Vegeta on a distant planet.

In the dream, she had reached the strange green planet using a sophisticated ship that could enter into a form of hyperdrive, bypassing Earth physics and running at speeds faster than the speed of light.

She was trying to figure out if it would, in reality, be possible to engineer such a vehicle.

Bulma had been reading up on the possibilities of deep space exploration and the power sources that could potentially take the people of Earth into farther corners of the universe, but the answer constantly evaded her.

She was about to turn her attention to another project when she remembered a discussion that she had with Vegeta , just a few days after she and her family had returned to Capsule Corp.

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

“So this is what your family does for a living,” he remarked, looking around her lab, peeking through the various machines and smaller components that littered her workspace to look at her from behind her cluttered work table.

“Yep! We are engineers! Well, my father and I are. We are inventors; scientists, actually. And this is my home!” she crowed, gesturing grandly at the mess of parts before her.

“And what, exactly, are you working on here?”

“Well,” she began, lifting an energy source from her table, showing him the glowing liquid inside the large fiberglass capsule. “I am trying to make a compound that could function as an alternate energy source so we don’t have to be so dependent on gasoline. I know that there are several other methods now, but this one,” she shook it, “could potentially be powerful enough to send us to the moon with only a liter of it needed.”

“Impressive,” he agreed, studying the mixture. “So it is a highly-concentrated energy source that could potentially power your vehicles into farther distances, with far less quantity.”

“Yes!” she said, beaming with pride.

He frowned slightly. “Did you take into consideration though, how a compound like that could potentially drain other components of your ships? It would not be enough fluid to sustain the other functions that you would need for a habitable vehicle.”

“What do you mean?”

“It would cause a chain reaction of sorts within your ship,” he explained. “The other motors will be needing to work at an equivalently higher rate of efficiency for that compound to be able to sustain all of the functions.”

She chewed her thumb nail thoughtfully. “So you’re saying that if I use this energy source, I need to adjust all other functions on the ship.”

He nodded. “But I am sure you already knew that. What you could consider is this: is your planet’s current technology ready for a machine that could accurately utilize this compound?”

She looked at him, impressed. She had no idea that he even had an interest in mechanical processes and electronics. “You make a good point. However, are you saying that this experiment is not practical, then?”

“I believe it would be ambitious to use this experimental fluid on a large machine, such as a space ship,” he clarified. “Perhaps, you would do well to try testing it on a smaller gadget, to test how far the energy can go, so you can more easily make the necessary calculations as you proceed to larger undertakings.”

She smiled at him then. “Why Vegeta, that is brilliant! Any suggestions on what I could use it on?”

Vegeta smirked. “How about one of those phones that you use to communicate? The ones that you keep charging all the time? Or perhaps, something practical, like a blaster gun?”

Bulma stood from her chair, excited. “Vegeta, that’s a great idea!” she exclaimed, picking up the green capsule. “I’m going to start a different experiment right now!”

She moved around the table, and when she reached him, she leaned up, leaving a light kiss on his cheek.

She immediately noticed the dark blush that stole over his cheeks, before he covered up his embarrassment with a scowl.

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

Bulma went to the back of her office, opening a small drawer hidden behind her filing cabinets.

She reached in, smiling when her hand met the small item that she had stashed in there, a confidential little experiment that she had been working on without the knowledge of her father, an undeclared idea that she had personally financed so she can test its viability.

She pulled it out, and her smile turned melancholy as she continued to look at it.

It was a blaster gun.

She had decided to make a prototype, as Vegeta suggested, and she had completed her first model only a few hours before she had been abducted by Frieza, and everything that she knew had gone to hell in a hand basket.

The blaster was small and sleek, made of transparent fiberglass and polished titanium. Due to some adjustments she had to make in the internal machinery, the blaster was unconventional, and did not look like a typical gun.

The handle curved slightly around her hand, and when placed flat on a table, the shape reminded her of a glass and metal slipper. She had wanted to show it to Vegeta, but in all the action, had completely forgotten, and she stared at it now with a mixture of sadness and longing, as she tried to imagine how he would have reacted to seeing that she had managed to turn his suggestion into an actual prototype.

He would have been so proud.

She slowly placed the blaster back into the hidden drawer, knowing that it was actually a rather dangerous trinket, as she had seen the damage it could inflict, first-hand. She had tested it out on some very thick metal sheets, and the powercore had aided the blasts so that the gun had easily melted through the tough metals, and she knew that with the energy held by the weapon – a mere medicine capsule-sized chamber of the fluid – the gun would not need to have its energy cartridge replaced for a very long time.

She turned back to her current experiment, intent on working on it now, to take her mind off the bitter taste that the happy memory with Vegeta had left in her mouth.

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

She was in space. That much was clear.

However, it felt strange, as she realized that she was enclosed in a single pod that was controlled by nothing but a very small keypad with unrecognizable square-shaped symbols.

The darkness surrounding her was thick, and she could feel a dull throbbing on the side of her left arm, an inconvenient sensation that had her wanting to rip off her own limb.

Now, that right there, was an odd thought.

She reached behind her, pulling out a thick roll of paper containing diagrams written in a foreign script, and she stared at the schematics as if she could understand the letterings.

“Tch,” a very familiar voice said, the sound ringing clearly in her ears, as if the voice had come from her.

“This makes no sense,” the same voice muttered, frustrated, and Bulma felt shock enter her as she finally placed the voice.

Vegeta.

She wanted to turn, to look for him. She wanted to see him, but her body refused to follow her, only reaching up, and apparently turning on a very dull light within the space pod.

The light filled the pod, and she squinted, looking up at the thick glass window that was right in front of her.

She nearly jumped when she saw Vegeta’s face reflected back at her.

She looked down then, and she saw his very familiar hands clenching and unclenching in what she knew was his way of displaying annoyance.

It was then that Bulma understood, that she was in Vegeta’s body.

What a strange dream…

She watched his fingers reach forward, tapping on a few keys before him, before a small screen lit up, a low beeping sound filling the pod, before Nappa’s face showed up on the screen.

A communication screen.

Bulma noted that Nappa looked younger, maybe more than ten years younger than the one she met a few months ago.

“Nappa,” Vegeta said. “How is the squad? Did you bring the boy with you?”

“The squad is fine, your highness,” Nappa responded. “As for the boy, Kakarot is within the larger ship with Raditz.”

Kakarot. That was Goku.

“Good. That boy needs to be trained, Nappa. I can feel his power within him. Raw and unused. He could… he could be another Super Saiyan.”

Nappa looked shocked. “You believe so, my Prince?”

“Yes, I do. We need him to get stronger. He could be a powerful warrior, more so than Raditz and their father, Bardock, combined.”

“Raditz is a very strong fighter, your highness.”

“And Bardock, before his injury, was stronger. This boy is even stronger than that.”

Bulma listened to their exchange, realizing that this dream was about Vegeta’s time before he had been thrown into the ball.

“We will need him,” Vegeta continued, “in our rebellion against Frieza. I shall train him, myself.”

“He is but a boy, my lord,” Nappa responded.

“And I was even more of a boy when I had first been stolen by Frieza and forced to work for them, until my father retrieved me. Kakarot will be fine.”

Vegeta fidgeted then, bringing his right hand up to clutch at his left arm, and she felt him violently tug at the limb, the pain making stars flash behind her lids.

“As you see fit, my Prince”, Nappa said, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

“If I am right, and the boy does indeed ascend, then we will have two of us able to perform instant transmission. It would be a tremendous tactical advantage,” Vegeta said.

“And I am certain that he will be delighted to be trained by you,” Nappa said. “Raditz told me that the boy idolizes you tremendously. That he has said that he wishes to be just like the Prince.”

Bulma felt Vegeta smirk at that. “As he should.”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

Bulma woke with a start, disoriented by the darkness.

As her eyes adjusted to the meager light, she realized that she was in her bedroom, lying down on her same, soft sheets, clutching her favorite pillow to her chest.

That had certainly been a strange dream.

She could still feel the throbbing in her left arm, the ache of an old injury that sometimes recurred and refused to fully heal.

“Wait a minute,” she muttered, as a very small memory surfaced.

She could distinctly remember Vegeta begin to use his right arm more and more as she watched him during his fight against Frieza.

His left arm could have had a recurring injury.

She bolted upright, unsettled.

That dream… did not feel like a dream, at all.

She immediately ran to her dresser, pulling her mobile phone out. Uncaring of the time, she scrolled down to the number of the one person she knew could help her understand what had happened.

The phone began to ring on the other end, and a few moments later, a groggy voice answered.

“Hello?” Goku greeted, voice thick with sleep.

“Goku! It’s Bulma.”

“Yeah, hi Bulma. It’s two in the mornin’,” he said.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I need help,” she said.

Goku’s voice was more alert as he answered. “Are you in trouble?”

“Not really, but-” she cut herself off when the familiar glow of the instant transmission appeared in her bedroom once again.

“What’s up?” Goku asked as soon as he materialized into her bedroom. He was wearing a loose shirt and boxer shorts, clearly coming directly from his bed.

“Goku, I am so sorry. I just wanted to ask you…” she said, hesitating before she continued. “When you were younger, did Vegeta train you, because he thought you could be Super Saiyan?”

“Well yeah,” he answered. “He asked Nappa and Raditz to bring me with them to the outer base one day, and the next, he showed up in the training arena to train me. I was shocked.”

She felt the blood drain from her face, as Goku tilted his head, regarding her more closely.

“He… Vegeta was taken hostage by the Colds, at one point, right?” she asked shakily.

Goku nodded. “He was with them for about seven Saiyan ages – fourteen Earth years – before King Vegeta started an uprising to retrieve him. It was during that battle that the Queen Papaya was killed, and Prince Vegeta turned Super Saiyan for the first time.”

Bulma felt her hands began to shake as disbelief filled her.

She had been right… That was not a dream.

She had seen Vegeta’s memories.

But how?

Goku stared at her in concern. “Bulma, are you alright? Haven’t you been eating again, because you are a little pale.”

Bulma looked up at the tall Saiyan, a confused grin on her lips.

“I’m fine, Goku. More than fine. I think… I think I just dreamed of Vegeta’s memories.”

Goku’s eyes went wide. “What? How? That’s impossible, ain’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure that it’s supposed to be impossible,” she confirmed. “But I am sure. I saw Nappa, and I heard them talking about you having the power to ascend.”

Goku looked baffled. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I need something from you now, Goku. I need you to talk to Uranai.”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

A day after Bulma sent Goku off to Uranai, she began researching on the theories regarding sleep and memory transfers. As of then, it was nothing but a part of science fiction mythos, but Bulma was sure that she could find something that could help her understand just how it could have been possible for Vegeta’s memories to have manifested in her dreams.

She spent the entire afternoon reading up on various sci-fi novels and conspiracy theories, and the only thing she could come up with were a few readings about soul bonding and psychic connections, but most stories concerned subjects who were both still alive.

As the day gave way to night, Bulma was nowhere closer to finding the answer to her questions, and she went home, feeling rather dejected that her research had basically gone nowhere.

She contemplated calling Goku to ask how his trip to Uranai had gone, if his asking the old crone for her theories had been more successful than her own efforts, but she decided against it, thinking that she could just call him in the morning. It was a bit late, after all, and she didn’t want to bother his sleep twice in a row.

She went to bed then, hoping that she would dream once again of Vegeta, or that the answers to her questions would come to her in her sleep.

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

It was scorching.

Flames licked up every single inch of her skin, and she wanted to recoil from the agonizing heat of the perpetual fires that surrounded her.

However, her feet remained pinned down, and she realized that she was being held against an iron-like beam, her arms and feet bound by spiked chains around the searing barrier.

Around her were screams of agony, and she could sense the anger boiling up inside her, deep hatred for her situation blistering inside her soul as the fires torched her limbs.

The flames never left a mark, but the endless pain remained.

It was hell.

She wanted to scream, but her pride warred with her need to let her suffering be heard, and she remained silent, teeth gnashing in fury as she tried valiantly to ignore the ongoing torture.

A large blast of fire appeared beside her, clearing up to reveal the form of a large man with red skin, with horns protruding from the top of his head. He had terrifying yellow eyes with slitted black irises, a dark goatee, and he wore a large blue cloak with a long white cape.

She felt herself spit in disdain, a growl rising from her chest.

“Dabura,” she felt herself say, and Bulma was once again surprised to realize that the voice belonged to Vegeta.

She was in Vegeta’s body, once again, probably dreaming of another memory.

Vegeta’s voice had been dripping in contempt, so Bulma thought that perhaps, this was a part of his servitude under Frieza.

“Hello, your majesty,” the large, demonic man greeted sarcastically. “I do hope you are enjoying your stay.”

“Fuck you,” Vegeta hissed.

“Unfortunately for you, I do not find you attractive,” Dabura laughed. “I believe the only ones who would ever fuck you are your Saiyan courtesans, because they didn’t really have a choice, did they?”

“Tch,” Vegeta said. “I’ll have you know that I was the favorite lay of all the Saiyan courtesans.”

“And who was your favorite lay, Prince Vegeta?”

Vegeta shut his mouth, pinching his lips hard against the urge to say something caustic back.

Dabura laughed. “Oh, I had nearly forgotten. You did fall hard for that little Earthling woman, did you not?”

“You fucking leave her out of this, Dabura,” Vegeta growled.

Bulma felt his anger rising once again, and she realized that Dabura had hit a sore spot with Vegeta.

Wait… an Earthling? Vegeta had never been to Earth before he was sealed. Could this mean…

“Would you like to see her again, Prince?”

Vegeta turned his head away from Dabura, but the large devil simply floated towards him, holding out a small mirror that began to glow in his hands.

“Watch, you wretch. Watch!” Dabura leered, and Bulma saw the mirror begin to turn into a viewing screen of sorts.

She could see her bedroom, and she saw a small lump of blankets gathered into the center of her bed.

It took her less than a moment to realize that the lump was none other than her.

It was as she had been while she was still deep in her depression, a frail bundle of skin and bones that refused to get up from her bed, the worst version of herself that had been wishing for nothing but death.

It was difficult, even for her, to see.

She felt Vegeta gasp as his eyes fell on her miserable form, and she felt him clench his hands into tight fists. She felt his conflict, his wanting to look away, but being unable to tear his gaze from the sight of her in her darkest moments.

“Do you see, Vegeta? See how you have made this woman suffer?” Dabura asked, and Vegeta gulped, as she felt an onslaught of guilt and pain fill his chest, a pain that made the agony of the flames licking at his body seem dull in comparison.

“You were so selfish, Prince. If you had never tried to come back to life, this woman would still be living her wonderful life, full of energy and happiness,” Dabura whispered maliciously. “She would never have been targeted by Frieza, would never have had to suffer from her father’s trial. She would never have had to be in such pain…”

“Shut up!” Vegeta choked out. “Stop this, stop this right now!”

“Listen to her cry, Prince!” Dabura said, and all at once, Bulma heard her own voice surround them, her heart-wrenching cries of her own suffering leaving Vegeta breathless in despair and guilt.

“Vegeta… Why… Why?” she heard her voice say weakly, and Vegeta closed his eyes, willing the vision and sound of her sadness away.

“Please…” Vegeta began, and Bulma was shocked at the rawness of his voice. “Please stop. Let her just live. She… she does not deserve to be in this sort of pain. This was all because of me.”

“Well, I am glad that you at least know that, Prince,” Dabura said gleefully, removing the mirror as he began to back away from Vegeta. “Until the next time, your highness.”

With that, Dabura disappeared, leaving a despondent Vegeta to breathe heavily, fighting the despair in his heart.

Bulma could do nothing but listen to his harsh breaths, feel the heaving of his chest and the single tear that trickled down his cheek.

“Bulma,” he whispered, his voice soft, loving, reverent. “Be safe, my beloved...”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

As she woke from the dream, Bulma bolted up, her chest heavy with Vegeta’s pained thoughts, her limbs still stinging from the fires that burned her body from the inside and out.

She had been in literal hell.

Vegeta was in hell.

And he was in extreme agony.

She stood up, pacing her room as she gathered the scattered bits of her mind to piece together all that she had learned.

Vegeta was dead, but somehow, whether he knew it or not, he was still communicating with her. Perhaps, it was the fact that their spirits had been linked for so long, that he was able to reach out to her from the afterlife.

Perhaps… if he was still linked with her…

Then maybe, she could still have him back.

She looked out the window, smiling at the rising sun, as she went to her cabinets and pulled out a pair of denim jeans and a comfortable white shirt.

She ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, then she dressed hurriedly, before she picked up her phone, and dialed.

“Hello,” the man’s voice was more alert than the last time she had called, so perhaps, he had already been awake this time.

“Goku, hi.”

“Bulma, great that you called! I found something when I went to Uranai yesterday-”

“You can tell me later. I need you to come and pick me up, now,” she said.

Goku paused. “Where are we going?”

She grinned.

“We are going to Uranai, you and I,” she said. “We are going to bring Vegeta back.”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

To be continued…

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#tpthvegebulmayhem2018 #mayhem #week4mayhem2018 #anon a #fanfiction #romance #angst #au #smut #trigger #dark #RatedE #horror #fluff #thriller #adventure

[msdoctorwho]

Fire Meet Gasoline, Ch. 9

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461255/chapters/34141604

But it's a bad bet, certain death But I want what I want and I gotta get it When the fire dies, darkened skies Hot ash, dead match, only smoke is left -Sia

In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. -Sun Tzu, “The Art of War”

As hurt, scared, and angry as she was, Bulma had a hard time blaming him for leaving. He’d only just started to let himself be comfortable with her, to settle into a new life, to figure out who he was away from a dead planet and a nightmare tyrant. How else could she expect him to act, blindsided with the overwhelming responsibility for another life, fearing a distraction that could rob him of the achievement on which he’d staked his entire significance?

While she obviously hadn’t gotten knocked up all by herself, they both knew if she hadn’t pursued him so relentlessly, they’d still just be sort-of-friends.

That was the worst bit -- she missed him, she missed the easy company of their fledgling friendship, and hated that it might be gone, forever. Sometimes she wished it could all go back to the way it had been before, too.

But there was no use dwelling on that -- she needed to move forward, and there was work to do.

With her child’s father in space, potentially never to return, the possibility of wishing back Nappa and Raditz had become a certainty for Bulma. She needed to know more about them. She wanted more for her child than a lost, dead, heritage.

And the feeling that they deserved the same second chance as Vegeta had been nagging at her ever since she’d spoken with him about it. Now, he wasn’t here to fight her on it.

Or give a fuck what she did with the rest of her life on Earth.

It was easy enough to collect the dragon balls again on her own. She took them to the middle of nowhere to avoid inconvenient questions from nosy friends.

She hadn't counted on stumbling into Gohan, who, from the look on his face, was also hoping to be alone and escape the notice of anyone he knew.

“Hey, Bulma,” he said, looking surprised and guilty.

“What’s up, kid?” Bulma asked, calculating whether or not to lie to him.

“Dad thinks I’m doing homework, and Mom thinks I’m training.” He paused. “I just needed a break.”

“You’ve got a lot of expectations on you, kid. It’s not really fair.” She ruffled his hair, embarrassing him with the childish gesture. “But if anyone can live up to them, it’s you.”

Hand to the back of his head, he looked bashful and changed the subject. “What are you doing out here, with the Dragon Balls? Can I help?”

She looked at him for a long time, and then looked away. “You’re not really a kid anymore, Gohan. What I want to do isn’t necessarily smart, and it isn’t safe, but it’s what I feel in my heart is right.”

She went on, looking out over the jagged cliffs of rust-colored rock, baking in the afternoon sun. “If I let you stay, I’d have to ask you not to tell your parents and I don’t want to put you in that position.”

He thought for a moment. “I think Dad would want me to help you even if it meant lying to him. And Mom...well, I’m going to be in trouble with her today either way,” he laughed uneasily.

Bulma nodded, and began to summon a dragon.

The majesty of Shen-lon never got old -- a vast creature that seemed to touch the sky, booming voice echoing in her ears. This time, she felt like he was eyeing her a bit in judgment.

She worded her wish carefully. “I wish for Nappa and Raditz to be alive again, but unable to harm me or anyone I care about.”

If she played her cards right they’d never uncover that failsafe.

In an instant, they towered over her, blinking and disoriented. Raditz recovered first. “I remember you, little human,” he hissed.

Nappa’s eyes narrowed in recognition.

She didn’t cower, budge, or lose eye contact. “Aren’t you at all curious about why you’re no longer dead?”

At this they looked uncertain. Suddenly coming back to life was a lot to handle, even for them.

“Vegeta asked me to find the Dragon Balls and bring you back,” she lied.

Nappa snorted. “Prince Vegeta doesn’t ask anyone to do anything.”

She had to smile at that. “True enough, but fortunately for him I agreed with the idea.”

“Why, little earthling, would you ever do that?” Nappa’s soft growl was much more intimidating than Raditz’s brash, insulting tone, as he stepped closer.

“Stay away from her!” Gohan warned, his forward motion cut short by Bulma’s quick gesture to stay put.

“Nephew!” Raditz’ surprise was evident, but there was nothing warm in it. “Come to greet your uncle?”

He cracked his knuckles, and even Bulma could feel the auras flaring to life around her. The Gohan who had cowered from these aliens was long gone, replaced by a young man eager for a fight. She’d bet her airship that Piccolo was monitoring them from somewhere, as well.

Bulma needed control of the situation now.

“Stop this at once!” she commanded, in their own language. “Power down, and show more control than a green cadet.” Translated more accurately as, “Stop jerking off instead of thinking.” Her tone was haughty, arrogant, and scathing.

The two Saiyans, all three of them actually, gaped at her open-mouthed. She imagined they could not have been more surprised than if Vegeta himself had unzipped her skin like a suit and stepped out to reprimand them. Their collective gathered power fizzled out in shock.

“A lot has changed while you’ve been gone, assholes.” she said, ignoring them to brush non-existent lint away from her clothing, an arrogant display of confidence.

“Clearly,” Nappa replied, gruff, and suspicious, regarding her like a talking cockroach.

“The short version is: Gohan is with me because Kakarot recognized Vegeta as his Prince, became a Super Saiyan, and killed Frieza to avenge your planet.” Mostly killed, she amended, in her head.

Gohan couldn’t follow the conversation, but he heard his name, and his father’s, and Frieza’s. The Saiyans seemed to be listening attentively, so he let himself relax.

Bulma continued, “Vegeta is on a training mission to ascend, as we’ve been warned about a new threat to Earth.”

“And why would Prince Vegeta give a shit about a threat to this pathetic ball of mud?” Raditz challenged.

“Is there a reason needed to fight, Saiyan, beyond glory, blood and victory?” she replied coolly. It was a very Vegeta, very Saiyan answer. The implied Saiyan subtext was a bit more like “Is that not enough to get it up for you?”

“...the brass balls on this bitch,” muttered Raditz, cowed enough to do it under his breath.

“What is Prince Vegeta to you, woman?” Unlike Vegeta, when Nappa used this form of address, it was distant but respectful. His eyes were curious.

For the first time her composure flickered. “I’m his...” she paused, searching for a Saiyan label that commanded more respect than “baby mama,” and coming up wanting.

“I’m his earthling paramour,” she finally ground out, her eyes daring them to comment. It implied higher status than “whore” or “concubine”, but not by much.

Nappa’s head was spinning. She spoke like a soldier, with the rude, direct structure of the barracks, none of the bullshit equivocation of the aristocracy. Her flawless accent, though, and her tone -- that belonged to a queen. The clear ring of command belonged to a general.

She sounded like Vegeta.

She sounded like Vegeta, with a cultivated fondness for creative vulgarity and a habit of using and discarding feminine pronouns like she could only be bothered to use them when she felt like it.

She was a fascinating and infuriating creature, and he could see all too well what Vegeta’s interest in her might have been.

Raditz only laughed though, almost to the point of tears. “As if! The Prince never eats local cuisine!” Literally: “never fucks cannon fodder.”

She grew more and more still, the longer he went on, and Nappa felt he had seen warmer light reflected off of glaciers, compared to the icy glint of her gaze.

“Put your useless, lowborn brain to work, you unwashed troglodyte, and use your enhanced senses to figure it out.” She opened her arms, daring him to do it.

Raditz approached her with caution, though it was clear by now her only weapon was her tongue. He lifted her hair, curiously, and then dropped to his knees to investigate her scent, his nose practically in her crotch. Her face flamed, but she didn’t move.

His expression was suddenly a lot less smug. “It’s faint, but she does smell like him.” He stared at her with a lot more curiosity now, which inexplicably made her feel shy. She ignored it.

Nappa rolled his eyes and stepped up to her, looking for more important tells. She watched him, warily, but allowed him to pull her sweater off her shoulder, exposing her neck.

Raditz gave a low whistle. “Well, someone’s been biting --” Literally: “Looks like he bit off more than he could--”

Nappa cut him off with a wave of his hand. If she’d had any idea what a mark like that meant, she wouldn’t have introduced herself as only his lover. Nappa had long ago given up trying to figure out how his Prince’s mind worked, but this was a next-level mess.

And…

His hand drifted lower, respectfully, hovering over her lower belly, searching. He dropped to his knees without thinking, automatically, and punched Raditz in the calf.

“Kneel, idiot, she is mother to the next heir of Vegetasei,” he said only. He wasn’t a kind man, but it seemed cruel even to him to add the rest when it was obviously unknown to her.

And the claimed mate of your Prince.

Which is how Bulma found herself with two loyal if somewhat feral Saiyan subjects, however much she tried to convince them otherwise.

Her parents were used to her “taking in strays” at this point. Her mother was delighted to host “friends of Vegeta” and her dad greeted them warmly with only a little grumbling about moving up the R&D on his food replication tech with two more Saiyans to feed.

She convinced them without too much trouble not to blast her parents or anyone else into oblivion for neglecting to use Vegeta’s title, telling them that since he’d been living on Earth he had stopped using it.

Raditz was insufferably pleased that the first legendary to arise in millennia was from his own direct bloodline. He was desperate to find out more, convinced that he himself should be able to do it, too. At her insistence he agreed to wait to visit Goku until she could break the news herself, but he wouldn’t wait long.

That was going to be a fun conversation with Chichi.

Turns out, the two of them were indeed better conversationalists than Vegeta when it came to Saiyan culture, though the comparison wasn’t entirely fair. Nappa reminded her that all of Vegeta’s knowledge came from what he’d learned as a young child, or from a book, or his elders. He’d experienced none of Vegetasei’s culture or society as an adult himself.

She was ashamed of not having figured that out herself, as it should have been obvious.

“If he was insufferable, that was my doing,” Nappa told her, one night when they were sitting alone over coffee, the first and only Saiyan to take to the bitter Earth beverage. “He was a boy, tormented by a monster, told he was a Prince. Fortifying his pride and his power was all I could do for him.”

“He would hate that you’re telling me this,” Bulma said.

“Which one of us is going to tell him?” Nappa asked.

She sighed. “Either of us, if he asked.”

He grunted, pleased with the loyalty in her answer, however difficult it might make life for them both.

If he ever comes back, Bulma thought.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, however hard he tried.

He trained to utter exhaustion, in the most extreme conditions he could produce, and still she haunted him.

Unexpectedly, there was a monitor in the ship connected to a camera in her lab, an old feed that had never been disconnected. There was a fearful symmetry in the way he watched her now, the same way she had observed him in the beginning.

She didn’t spend much time at her desk, but he would catch her, now and then, eating instant noodles, drawing schematics, engine grease smeared on her cheek, in her hair. Sometimes he saw the remnant of tears, or dark circles from lack of sleep, but in general she looked like she was doing well, doing better than him.

The curve of her belly appeared overnight as if from nowhere, and he watched it increase with growing dread. No matter what he had said to her or himself, he kept thinking desperately that she was alone, unprotected, it was his duty to be close, to make sure both she and the child were safe. The way he had never been safe.

He was not the kind of man who should have offspring. He knew nothing of fatherhood other than the distant man who’d made a feckless bargain to save himself by giving his son over for certain abuse.

He should not be a father, he had never wanted to be. But it was happening whether he’d willed it or not, and suddenly the terror that he’d never ascend wasn’t only about himself anymore. The androids were coming -- had already come, the boy had said, and Earth had been crushed beneath them.

He had to ascend, he had to, and for once Kakarot wasn’t in his thoughts at all.

In his nightmares of failure, he didn’t dream of his own death anymore.

Only hers.

#vegebul fanfiction #vegebul #vegeta #vegeta x bulma #bulma