Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What Do You Feel? ❯ One-Shot
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Kleptomaniac Can Opener 
Precisely how does a Saiyan feel about fighting?
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Martial Arts | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.05.2003 | Pages: 1 | Words: 527 | Visits: 568 | Status: Completed
Precisely how does a Saiyan feel about fighting?
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Martial Arts | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.05.2003 | Pages: 1 | Words: 527 | Visits: 568 | Status: Completed
What Do You Feel?
From a Saiyan's POV.
Essay: How do you feel about fighting?
Be descriptive.
500 words or more.
Salty. It smells salty...and a little like musk. The smell, it makes my blood boil, like wildfire is running through me, setting every nerve, every cell on fire. It is also... refreshing. I feel more 'here', like I was not alive before. Like I was only going 'through' life and not 'living' it. I am...aware.
The pain. I do not want it, but I 'need' it. It forces me to become faster and stronger. I do not want to feel the pain so I have to become better. But sometimes, the pain, it feels so sweet. Its kiss lets me know I am alive. It gives me both limits and a goal. It is an opponent in itself, one I must overcome, one I must surpass, to defeat the warrior who battles me.
The sounds. Even breaths become ragged and deep. Does he exhale when he is about to attack? Do I? Is he behind me or off to the side? Just under my nose? Will his steps become loud and clumsy, as he grows tired? Will I become detectable as I grow tired or will I remain silent as owls' wings? What other sounds would there be? The snap of a gi? Or only the ripple of cloth on wind? What would my opponent be wearing? What would I be wearing? Would our attire give our movements away like the jingle of a necklace or conceal them like a cape?
The flow of soft skin over hard muscles is hypnotizing. A good opponent gives you a sense of awe in battle. The speed of a crane mixed with the grace of a swan, the deadliness of a cobra, and the strength of a tiger. The warrior who reaches that becomes the ultimate prize, a dragon: a creature of both deadly grace and fetal beauty. Such a creature must be dominated. I must dominant the man who is dragon; I must best such a being... claim him.
My heart pounds in my chest as the battle rages on. I lick sweat from my lips and some blood too, the taste excites me more. What would his blood taste like? My senses are almost unbearably sharp. I am aware of everything going on around me, the twittering of the birds in the far off distance, a wisp of wind cooling my heated body, the chirp of a tiny cricket, then deafening silence that almost hurts my ears. But will any of it give my opponent away?
I know, something just told me. A sound acting as my little spy perhaps, maybe pure instinct, but I know his next move.
Something runs with the inferno...pleasure. The longer the battle the more of it I feel. I can feel myself spiraling higher like I am getting drunk off it. The battle reaches its climax and my rapture peaks with it. Will I claim him this day? Will he claim me instead? A stalemate? The final blow, what will it be? I am in seventh heaven.
Ultimate ecstasy.
From a Saiyan's POV.
Essay: How do you feel about fighting?
Be descriptive.
500 words or more.
Salty. It smells salty...and a little like musk. The smell, it makes my blood boil, like wildfire is running through me, setting every nerve, every cell on fire. It is also... refreshing. I feel more 'here', like I was not alive before. Like I was only going 'through' life and not 'living' it. I am...aware.
The pain. I do not want it, but I 'need' it. It forces me to become faster and stronger. I do not want to feel the pain so I have to become better. But sometimes, the pain, it feels so sweet. Its kiss lets me know I am alive. It gives me both limits and a goal. It is an opponent in itself, one I must overcome, one I must surpass, to defeat the warrior who battles me.
The sounds. Even breaths become ragged and deep. Does he exhale when he is about to attack? Do I? Is he behind me or off to the side? Just under my nose? Will his steps become loud and clumsy, as he grows tired? Will I become detectable as I grow tired or will I remain silent as owls' wings? What other sounds would there be? The snap of a gi? Or only the ripple of cloth on wind? What would my opponent be wearing? What would I be wearing? Would our attire give our movements away like the jingle of a necklace or conceal them like a cape?
The flow of soft skin over hard muscles is hypnotizing. A good opponent gives you a sense of awe in battle. The speed of a crane mixed with the grace of a swan, the deadliness of a cobra, and the strength of a tiger. The warrior who reaches that becomes the ultimate prize, a dragon: a creature of both deadly grace and fetal beauty. Such a creature must be dominated. I must dominant the man who is dragon; I must best such a being... claim him.
My heart pounds in my chest as the battle rages on. I lick sweat from my lips and some blood too, the taste excites me more. What would his blood taste like? My senses are almost unbearably sharp. I am aware of everything going on around me, the twittering of the birds in the far off distance, a wisp of wind cooling my heated body, the chirp of a tiny cricket, then deafening silence that almost hurts my ears. But will any of it give my opponent away?
I know, something just told me. A sound acting as my little spy perhaps, maybe pure instinct, but I know his next move.
Something runs with the inferno...pleasure. The longer the battle the more of it I feel. I can feel myself spiraling higher like I am getting drunk off it. The battle reaches its climax and my rapture peaks with it. Will I claim him this day? Will he claim me instead? A stalemate? The final blow, what will it be? I am in seventh heaven.
Ultimate ecstasy.