#out of all the things to have as a pet; he chooses the genocidal alien /j

[sweeneydino]

I saw my chance and took it

[revchainsaw]

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

[salmonellagogo]

I Just Know

Rating: T

Pair/Characters: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne

Psst Ao3

***

5 Times Jon does not say I love you to Damian and 1 time he does.

***

Jon is thirteen when he understands what it means to have a crush on someone.

Damian is sixteen and Jon watches him.

He doesn't mean to. His eyes are drawn in by themselves. They follow Damian, glued to his back whenever Damian’s not looking.

He realizes that Damian’s feature is very well-proportioned, nearly symmetrical. He has high cheekbones and soft looking lips. His nose looks like it has been broken and set before. His green eyes are framed by thick lashes that have been cousin Kara’s subject of envy.

And it’s those eyes that haunt Jon's dreams. Some mornings he wakes up from those dreams having to rush to the bathroom and runs the shower, eaten up by guilt and still unable to stop touching himself.

Those mornings are particularly hard when they coincide with their weekend patrol schedule. He tries hard to be his usual self. But, it’s difficult when each time he accidentally bumps Damian, it’s as if an electric charge is running down Jon's spine.

“What is wrong with you?” Damian scowls at him. “Are you even taking this seriously?”

“I am!” Jon says. He scoots an inch to the left, away from Damian. “You startled me!” He had flinched unwittingly when Damian touched his arm to gain his attention earlier.

Damian clucks his tongue. “Pay attention, Corncob.”

“Jeez, I am, Grumpface.”

They would have argued some more, but the group of thugs they have been watching choose that moment to begin moving. It’s their cue and Damian doesn’t even say anything to Jon as he shoots his grapple gun and swings down.

Jon rolls his eyes. “It's okay! You don't have to wait for me or anything!” he says and even as he flies to meet Damian, he can't help noticing the graceful arc of Damian's form in the air.

***

When he is fourteen, Jon punches Damian’s face. It’s not that hard of a hit. He doesn’t use his full power. He never does, when it comes to Damian. But still, the hit sends Damian careening away.

Damian catches himself, hands out to break his fall. And then, he launches at Jon. Damian is fast and he has worked with Jon long enough to know when Jon usually lets his guard down.

They never fight seriously. Not anymore, since Jon was ten.

Damian is better than him when it comes to raw skill. Damian has been trained within an inch of his life and he is faster, better from that first time they fought after Damian kidnapped him. However, it takes Jon not all that long to contain Damian.

He grips Damian's wrists, holding Damian down with his body. Damian is seventeen, and he finally hit his growth spurt that one summer two years ago. He’s much taller than the grumpy pipsqueak Jon remembers from when Damian was thirteen. But, Jon hits his own growth spurt this year. He is as tall as Damian now and as broad, and Jon's still growing.

Damian bares his teeth. “Move, or I'll make you!”

“I’d like to see you try, D,” Jon says.

Damian growls. He makes serious effort to budge Jon. Jon knows if Damian genuinely wants to take Jon out, he can. He has other means and ingenuity that are available to the Bats, and often more effective than having super power. Also, Batman has Kryptonite shards somewhere in his vault.

Jon grins down at him.

“I will end you!” Damian says.

“Promises, promises.”

Damian sends him a look that speaks of vehemence. He resumes his struggle with fervor.

Sometimes, holding Damian down is not unlike holding a stubborn eel. He writhes and bucks, moving his lower body, tangling his legs with Jon's.

Jon bites his lip. Okay, maybe this isn't such a good idea. He can feel Damian's legs sliding against his, Damian's knee grazing the inside of his thigh. Recently, almost everything makes Jon's libido goes off. And, having Damian’s warm body under him, moving against him … is just ….

Jon lifts his hips, getting to his knees and using them to bracket Damian's leg. There are stirrings in his lower body parts. Something is waking up and, wow, he doesn't want to explain to Damian what it is he feels there.

He yelps when Damian flips them over, the slightest lapse in concentration and then, there is Damian sitting right there over Jon's hips.

Jon instinctively rises to his feet. With little effort, he jostles Damian from his lap, hands going out to hold Damian's sides to prevent Damian from falling.

“I …, ah! I forgot it's my turn to prepare dinner today!” Jon says, hoping he doesn’t look as mortified as he feels. “Mom will have my head!”

Damian glowers. Jon, in his panic, forgets that Damian hates it when Jon handles Damian like he weighs nothing. But, um yeah, Damian really isn’t that heavy.

“Then go,” Damian says. He glares at Jon and Jon is glad for the exit provided for him.

He turns away and zips out quickly to the higher level of the Batcave. From there, he flies to the exit that is usually reserved for Batplanes, trying to think of something that is not the feel of Damian's weight on his crotch.

***

Damian is a little weird about receiving gifts. For as long as Jon has known him, he has been that way. But, when it comes to giving gifts, he’s the opposite. Jon has several game systems and rolling door of latest Wayne tech gadgets to attest to that.

And it’s not like Jon doesn’t know what Damian likes. Jon knows he likes playing video games as much as Jon does and that Damian likes taking care of his pets. He also knows Damian’s bookshelf stores a few sketch books, all filled to the brim. Sometimes, he even shows his drawings to Jon.

Yeah, so he knows what to buy Damian. That isn’t the problem. The problem is getting Damian to receive it, without having to get into an argument.

“What. Is. This?” Damian asks. He sounds testy and Jon has seen this coming, really.

“Watercolor paint set?” Jon says. “I said I’d get you something for your birthday.”

To be fair, Damian's eighteenth birthday was last week. Jon missed it because he and Dad went to another planet, working with Green Lanterns to save the occupants from genocide by alien invasion.

Watercolor paints may sound paltry, especially knowing Jason gave Damian a real katana from feudal Japanese era last year, but they are the really nice ones. They are artists’ grade and Jon had to walk his neighbors’ dogs all summer to afford those.

“I don't need these,” Damian says.

Jon rolls his eyes. He should be hurt by that, but at this point he has been exposed to Damian too long to take what he says too seriously. He doesn’t know what makes Damian that way, not exactly, but yeah, Damian says that to everyone who gives him things, unless they’re Nightwing or his father.

“I know you probably can buy yourself something better,” Jon says, “but they’re gifts. I give them to you! You have to receive them, even if you don't need them!”

Damian makes a face, but he does not push the watercolor paints back to Jon or argue with him. So, Jon counts that as progress. Maybe, Damian even likes his gifts. Who knows?

Jon doesn't know. He goes back to Metropolis and the small mountain of homework from classes he missed, and does not think about Damian for a while.

A few days later, a rustle in front of his window wakes Jon up in the middle of a school night. It's Damian. Jon recognizes the sound of his heartbeat and he rushes to open the window, but by the time he looks out, Damian has gone away, heartbeat receding fast that he must have taken one of the Batplanes to Metropolis.

“What?” Jon scratches his head and he’s about to close the window again, when he sees it. On his window sill, there is a note clipped on to an letter sized drawing. The note says, I don't know why you feel obliged to give these to me, but thank you, in Damian's neat penmanship. Underneath the note is watercolor painting of Krypto flying under blue sky.

Jon grins.

***

Jon kisses Amelia Shepherd behind the World History shelf. She smells like strawberry, with soft hair and soft lips, soft skin that feels warm when Jon touches her arm. They are supposed to be doing their group projects. But Amelia has been watching and smiling at Jon ever since day one of Geography, and it turns out, she is fun to talk to. It feels right.

It feels right up until Jon kisses her. After that, it just feels awful.

Jon steps back and breaks the kiss. Amelia smiles up at him, tucking stray strands of her long hair behind one ear. Her hands are small. She is tiny. The top of her head reaches only to Jon’s collarbone. And he can break her in half easily if he isn't careful.

Jon swallows and tries to smile. “Amelia … I, uh ….”

Amelia laughs. She pushes Jon to make more room, and then adjusting the books she’s holding against her chest, she says, “That’s a nice kiss. See you around, Jon.”

Jon nods. “See you around,” he says and watches her go.

He doesn't see her again all day.

When he comes home from school, near dinner time because he has lacrosse practice, Damian is sitting with his mom at the dinner table.

“Hi, Mom.” Jon kisses his mom’s cheek. “You’re early, D.”

“Yes, I am,” Damian says. He shoves chunks of pancakes and eggs into his mouth. Today is breakfast for dinner day, something staple in Lane-Kent household. Damian scowls as he chews, but he doesn’t say anything about the food.

“Well, now that you’re here,” Mom says. “I will go to my interview.” She’s already dressed for work. Damian must have caught her just before she’s trying to leave. “Eat before you go, Jon. And be careful out there, you hear me!” She throws that last one just before she crosses the front door, bag slung on her shoulder.

“This is horrible.” Damian puts down his fork and pushes his plate away as soon as Mom is out the door.

“Not all of us have a butler,” Jon says. He sits at Damian's  side and draws the plate to him. “And anyway, how can pancakes and sausages be offensive?”

“Alfred makes better pancakes than this box mix ... thing.”

“Uhm, yeah, heard what I said? No butler in this house.”

Damian scoffs and Jon kind of wants to cuff him in the head. And then, he remembers Damian’s “Father” eats at a fast food burger joint with a fork and a knife, and he snickers.

“What?” Damian looks at him suspiciously.

Jon shakes his head. He devours Damian's left over and digs out the covered plate his mom left for him in the microwave. He eats that, too. Jon is sixteen. He grows another inch last week. He needs all the food he can get.

After dinner and a quick change, they head out to patrol. They start at Metropolis and go out to the city’s outskirt when things get too quiet. They rescue a girl from being run over by a careless driver, beat up a few thugs who try to rob a convenience store, and escort a drunk woman safely back to her apartment.

They get back around three in the morning and Jon hasn’t thought about Amelia all night, but as he showers and changes, he remembers her again and kind of hates himself. It was stupid of him to have kissed her. If he says that it’s a mistake to her, will he get a slap in the face, or simply cold treatment for the rest of the school year? He weighs for both.

He sighs.

Damian comes out of the shower in the middle of his brooding. Jon plasters a smile on his face and says something that gets a thorny response. Jon laughs and they play around with the high-tech laptop Damian gave him last year.

Around five thirty, just before the sun rises, they go to bed. Jon’s bed is narrow, and although Damian has made noises about buying him a bigger bed, Jon put his foot down on account of his tiny room. Damian clucked his tongue at him, but didn't offer anymore.

Besides, Damian fits just right with him. He may not be as petite as Amelia, but Damian is all lean muscle and tan skin these days. Their limbs often get tangled and sweaty in the middle of the night. Jon doesn't mind, safe for a few incidents when he has to creep silently to the bathroom by virtue of something else that has “woken up” because of his best friend.

And right then, as Jon tries to close his eyes, laying on what Damian has dubbed Jon's side of the bed, he listens to the noises of the city. Jon will always miss the quietness of the countryside, but he’s gotten use to Metropolis’ buzz. Damian’s steady heartbeat is among the loudest. He knows that Damian is awake, because he sounds different when he’s asleep. Jon opens his mouth and says, “I kissed a girl yesterday.”

Jon feels Damian stiffen beside him for a moment, before he relaxes again.

“Good for you,” Damian says. He turns his back to Jon and does not move again.

Jon bites his lip. His heart is beating erratically and he does not understand what Damian meant. He stares at Damian's back for a long time before he falls asleep.

***

Jon thinks a lot about how much more fragile Damian is, compared to him. How much easier it is for Damian to get hurt, and he has, on several different occasions when he’s with Jon.

Jon doesn’t even hesitate to fly into the way of a bullet meant for Damian. Nothing much can hurt Jon, but he is not invulnerable. When the bullet hits him, he knows immediately he has made the right decision--as well as … a mistake. The bullet’s not meant for Damian, it’s for him.

The familiar sensation of Kryptonite poisoning is immediate and Jon clutches at Damian, trying to stay upright and failing. His last conscious thought is wanting to punch whoever it is that laughs shrilly behind him.

When he wakes up, the first thing Jon registers is Damian's eyes watching him. Damian is sitting at a chair beside his bed, dressed in civilian clothes and there is a shallow cut just under the peak of his cheekbone. The right corner of his mouth is dark with bruise.

They maintain a few seconds of eye contact, then Damian scrambles up to stand at his bedside, his brows pinched. Jon is distracted for a moment. The ceiling behind Damian's head is high and filled with roosting bats. The Batcave.

“Hey,” Jon says, voice hoarse and throat parched. “What happened?”

“You collapsed. We had to dig a Kryptonite bullet out of your back.” Damian crosses his arms. “Your heart stopped once.”

Damian looks like he’s biting into something sour. His mouth forms a hard line and his nose wrinkles up a little.

“Oh,” Jon says. “What about that guy with the bird mask. The one who ... shot me.”

“In Arkham Prison.”

“Oh.” It seems like the only thing Jon can say. Damian frowns even deeper and now that Jon looks more closely, he notices the dark shadows under Damian's eyes. “Can I get something to drink?”

“Wait.”

Damian goes away. The space around Jon's bed is cordoned off by white curtain and he can't see where Damian goes. Jon tries to trace his memory. He feels a little disoriented and he doesn’t know how long he’s lain unconscious in the Batcave. Batman should have notified his Dad already. His parents can be just beyond the curtain. He has no means of knowing, because the power well deep inside him is empty. From experience, it will be a few days, up to a few weeks before he can use his abilities again.

Damian comes back with a glass of water, a straw jutting out from the rim. He helps Jon sit up to drink, holding the glass for him. There’s a faint tremor in Damian's steady hand. Jon takes the straw between his lips and doesn't comment. Damian smells like soap and his usual coconut shampoo when he leans close. Jon focuses on that.

After, Jon takes Damian's hand before Damian can move away. Damian startles. A few stray droplets of water splash Jon's forearm.

“What are you doing?” Damian asks.

“Stay with me, please.”

Damian’s eyebrows draw closer together. He studies Jon and it feels like a long time has passed, before Damian says, “I … I’m putting this away. I will be back.”

“Okay,” Jon says.

Damian keeps his words. He comes back to sit with Jon. When Jon opens his hand, palm up on the bed, Damian gets the memo and put his own hand on Jon’s.

Jon doesn't ask where his Dad or Mom is. He doesn't ask where Batman is. His heart is racing and warmth spreads into his chest.

He holds Damian's hand until he hears the roar of Batmobile entering the cave and the sound of conversation between his Dad and Batman carry.

***

+1

Damian kisses Jon carefully. A soft press of mouth. A hello and “is this okay?”, all in one. His face is so close that Jon can feel the sweep of Damian's long eyelashes as Damian opens his eyes.

They part for just a second. Jon puts his hand on Damian's nape and pulls Damian in. They kiss properly this time. Jon doesn't have much experience, and it seems like Damian is as rookie as Jon in this department. They learn and it feels good. So good, that Jon has to force himself to break the kiss and sucks in some air.

Damian is a wreck. His tanned skin is flushed, his hair a mess, and his pupils are dilated. And Jon can feel that he’s not the only one affected by the kiss. Damian is as hard as he is.

They are on Damian's bed. Jon’s on his back and Damian somehow ends up sprawled above Jon. Jon slides a proprietary hand onto Damian's back, smoothing his shirt up. He pays attention to the raises and bumps on Damian's back, learning Damian's scars, one by one.

Before long, they kiss again.

“I love you,” Jon says as they part. “I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

Damian’s cheeks flushes impossibly darker. He caresses Jon's neck, up to his cheeks, and kisses Jon once, lightly. “Happy birthday, Beloved,” Damian whispers. “I’ve been waiting for your eighteenth birthday.”

A smile tugs at Jon's lips. “Best birthday ever.”

[saiyanprince541]

The First Kiss

Summary: Bulma lures Vegeta into the swimming pool and one thing leads to another, till they engage in their first kiss. What'll happen when Yamcha walks in to this most unpleasant, unwelcoming sight? A/N: My submission for the April BVDN, on behalf of "The Prince and the Heiress" community. Had a really enjoyable, albeit brief, time, as always. Enjoy! :D Fanfiction version

The First Kiss:

Prompt 1: Catalyst

He'd been at this for over a year, since the arrival of that mystery Super Saiyan and his simultaneous doomsday revelation. While his strength had grown immensely, there was still something missing, a catalyst of sorts, that was inhibiting him from realizing his true potential. Just what was it? What was that final element, the last piece of the puzzle that was missing, the key that would unlock his ascension, at last? He needed to claim his birthright, the destiny that was promised to him, since birth, until it had been usurped by that pitiful disgrace of a warrior, Kakarot. Unless he surpassed the third-class, flower-child, there was absolutely no room for indolence. He wouldn't stop until he tore every muscle, broke every bone and dried up every little droplet of sweat and blood, within his strapping body. He needed to take things up a notch.

'It doesn't make any sense.' He irately mused, as he exited the gravity chamber, heading towards the minuscule Ki signal of that insufferable woman. 'Kakarot trained for only six days at one-hundred times gravity. What was it that triggered his transformation? The Super Saiyan is said to utterly cold and heartless, a pure evil being that destroys everything in it's path, yet Kakarot remains blinded by his disgusting, soft-hearted idealism.'

In the midst of his thoughts, he reached his destination at last, only to freeze, upon seeing the supple, beguiling body that stood before him, accoutring the flimsiest of garments.

Prompt 2: Energy

Something about this woman was starkly different. Was it the mesmerizing contrast of her porcelain skin tone, as it reflected the glimmer of the sun? Or the alluringly hot curves of her supple, hourglass frame? Perhaps it was the sultry manner, in which her hips swerved and her voluminous breasts bounced, as she moseyed towards him? He hardly knew, but couldn't reign in his desire, as an all-encompassing rush of sizzling blood percolated through his loins, at the sinfully sacrilegious sight of her beach-clad form, rendering him motionless and at her mercy. Darn it, he needed to concentrate, lest he fall into another one of her sinful snares.

"Hey, stranger." She greeted, with a smug smile, noticing the sexually triggered gleam in his eyes, not to mention the sizeable tent, pitched up within those hot, skintight lycra shorts of his. "What brings you here?"

The Prince cleared his throat, shaking the mortifying stupor from his head, lest he embarrass himself further.

"I need you to upgrade the gravity room, now!" He brusquely demanded, in an attempt to obscure the wanton lust, manifested within his form-fitting, training attire. The sheer invigoration, the unbridled energy surging through his boiling bloodstream, was darn-near overwhelming. Oh God, she was shifting even closer and were he not bound by Princely pride, he would've scuttled like a mouse. His heart-rate spiked, breath hitching, as a foot-and-a-half distance separated him from his sensuous hostess.

"You sure?" She batted her eyelashes suggestively. "Wouldn't you rather, we go for a nice swim?"

Prompt 3: Boiling Point

"B-Back off woman." Vegeta stammered tremulously. Darn it, why was she always so familiar, around him?! This woman must be completely insane! After all, she'd invited a genocidal alien, into her house, stipulating only that he not do anything "naughty with her". Try as he might, however, that simple task was becoming incredibly difficult, with her near-nude form, in such close proximity. She often made him uncomfortable with her unwarranted advances, overlooking the fact that he could end her at a moment's notice, should he so choose. And yet he hadn't. A year ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about ending the miserable lives of any, who dared cross his boiling point, the way she did. Yet, there was something about her that forced him to reign in his fury and as much as he tried to convince himself, that it was all the result of her productivity, in yielding the nonplussing equipment required for him to ascend and claim his place in the realm of legend, that wasn't entirely true.

There was something else there. Besides Frieza and the upper-echelons of the Planet Trade, not to mention Kakarot, no one had dared stand up to him, face-to-face and yet she, in spite of all her physical inhibitions, did just that. Cowing her into submission had become a sort of challenge for him, an obsession if you will, and all his efforts had proved futile, thus far. Being a Saiyan, with royal blood at that, Vegeta's unyielding resolve was only fueled further at the prospect of a challenge. He would overcome her. Maybe not today, but someday he would. He just had to figure out how.

"Well, come on then Vegetables, let's get to it." The heiress grinned, whirling around and prancing towards the swimming pool.

Prompt 4: Oxidation

"Hey come on, what're you waiting for?" Bulma pouted, submerged neck deep inside the pool. "Hop in already! Don't be shy, I'm not gonna bite." She smiled, cordially, feeling a sense of warmth kindle within her heart, at the sight of her sheepish houseguest. It was at these times that she liked him best, when he exhibited some degree of normalcy. The heiress was convinced that deep-down, he wasn't nearly as wicked as he let on. True, he was no angel, but unlike the rest of her clique, Bulma considered the circumstances surrounding his malicious intents.

Vegeta growled at the obnoxious woman. How dare she try and string him along, as though he were nothing more than a pet?! She was really grating his nerves, especially those clustered together, within his inflamed loins.

The pair swam laps for around five minutes, with Vegeta outracing her at every turn. No surprise there.

"Oh come on, this isn't fair." She groused, folding her arms petulantly, wading over to him. "You're super-human, how am I supposed to keep up?"

"Tch, you're an inferior cretin, so of course you can't-"

"Hey, how dare you call me that, jerk?!" She crabbily interjected, jabbing her fingertip against the bridge of his steely chest. "Show some respect!"

"Weaklings deserve no respect!" He scowled.

"Assholes deserve no respect!" She countered.

They continued bickering, unknowingly drawing closer to one-another with each smoldering syllable, until the two contrasting figures oxidized into one.

"Fuck you." The heiress hissed, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"F-fucking b-"

Before he could give life to the b-word, Bulma devoured it with her lips. Oh God, she was kissing him- for the first time. His stomach was wound up tight, muscles tensed and shaft upright, against the heated skin of her lower abdomen.

Prompt 5: Reduction

A wise man once said that 'the first kiss is the only real kiss in a relationship'. After that, it just became routinized, nothing more than a force of habit that lacked the vivid, electrifying undertone it once possessed. That was almost certainly the case with Bulma's ex-boyfriend, Yamcha. She hardly knew how their relationship had lasted as long as it did, having quickly lost it's vitality, after the once-notorious desert-bandit was domesticated and molded into another bleak product of urban society. Vegeta, on the other hand, while not quite as malignant as he once was, sustained every smidgeon of that wild, primal edge. She couldn't deny that she was somewhat attracted to the Saiyan Prince, short moments after they'd all returned from Namek. From the tales she heard, she half-expected him to blow everyone of them to smithereens. Without Goku around, he certainly could have and yet he didn't. It was then that some crazy part of her was determined to tame the beast and bring it to heel and so, here they were, lips bound together. And it felt so good.

His lips were soft and balmy. They quickly sent waves of galvanizing pleasure, through her chest. She dared shift closer and gasped, as she felt his rock-hard erection press up against her groin. He promptly gird his sinewy arms, around her lithe waist, blanketing her with his strapping, steel-like figure. Oh God, what had she gotten herself into?! The heiress lost all cogent willpower, begging her to let go, but this was an oxidation that she just couldn't reverse. The only force that could bring about a reduction, was one from the outside. Lo and behold, here it was!

"Bulma!" A familiar voice choked in complete disbelief, breaking the searing kiss, as the unlikely pair turned towards it.

Prompt 6: Bond

'Oh crap!' Bulma panicked, as she saw a horrified Yamcha, gaping at them.

Vegeta quickly withdrew from her, as though she were a cactus, before glaring daggers at the scar-faced weakling. He came here for a gravity machine upgrade, so how the fuck did he end up in this pitiful predicament?!

"Uh- um, h-h-hi Yam-"

"What the fuck were you doing to her, you sick bastard?!" Yamcha snarled, bounding his hands together, tightly. His fragile heart was unwilling to entertain any ideas of Bulma, willingly necking that twisted, evil son-of-a-bitch, even though his hapless eyes told a very different story. She couldn't, no way! Perhaps he'd coerced her in some way. "Get away from her, now!"

"Or what, huh?!" Vegeta smirked, in complacence. "I could vaporize you with the tip of my little finger and you know it."

"I- I-" Yamcha stammered, in fear, before regaining his confidence, as he was hit by the obvious. "I'll call Goku, then what?!"

Vegeta released a feral snarl, at the mention of that repugnant, pseudo-Saiyan clown.

"Or I could just kill you now, before you have the chance." The Prince aimed his palm at the other warrior, who's fear promptly returned, a hundred-fold. "But, seeing as you don't deserve that honor, I have something better in mind." He grinned and abruptly grabbed a handful of Bulma's breast, whereby she gasped incredulously. "Be sure to tell Kakarot," He paused a moment for effect. "Everything."

He swiftly flew off, chortling as he heard the ebbing, indignant screams of rage, from his his loudmouthed hostess. Once he reached the gravity room, he decided that he had to steer clear of her. He couldn't risk engaging her again, in such a lewd manner, lest their covalent bond turn into an ionic one.

A/N: Hilarious, how Vegeta grabbed Bulma's tits before flying off, wasn't it? 😂

Hope you enjoyed! As always, be sure to leave your thoughts and review.

p.s. The proverb in Prompt 5 actually belongs to Lance Barton, a character played by Chris Rock, in the film, "Down to Earth" xD.