a thousand stories

indie & private multi-fandom multimuse written by ROMEO

[millefabulas]

A THOUSAND STORIES

indie & private multimuse / rp hub written by ROMEO

ft. muses from Literature, Comics, Film, Television, & Theatre

sideblogs: OFMD @tctteredflag

[ RULES ]     [ MUSES ]

[millefabulas]

( i am currently in the process of making a sideblog for Stede & Izzy, so if you are an OFMD blog and I followed you hi! please check out @tctteredflag )

[millefabulas]

MUSE UPDATE.

added: Samwise Gamgee from LOTR, Sigyn from Marvel & Norse Mythology, and Horatio & Laertes from Hamlet.

[millefabulas]

lavenderdreamsandburntoutstars·:

“O-Others,” he breathes. He can feel a panic seizing his bones. She’s laughing it off, but he cannot understand what all this suddenly means, the awful clarity he feels. Hikari braces back against the wall and shakes his head as she thumbs through the photos. “Stop it.” He whispers.

The memories of them play before him haunting and lovely. He can see they upset her almost as much as him. He wants her to leave. Then her voice, soft and breaking, is cutting through him to his core. He presses his palms to his eyelids and tries to focus on the sounds outside. “Stop, please.”

She presses on, moved by whatever foolish notions had brought her here in the first place. Outsider? What the hell could she possibly know about being an outsider, about being forsaken by the one you loved most? But before he can feel infuriated or anything else, she is apologizing to him.

Hikari slides down the wall and into a slump on the floor. He shifts his hands and feels they are soaked with tears he hadn’t realized he was shedding. His chest heaves. “No more…” She continues speaking with such a genuine sweetness that, even without looking at her, cracks him in two. He can’t remember the last time anyone had apologized to him, had tried to comfort all that he disconnected himself from. He fists his hands into his silver curls and presses his forehead against his knees. “Please…no more…” he chokes.

Dagny watches Hikari crumble before her, broken apart by her simple kindness, but she can’t find it in herself to regret her words. They were the truth, and she could never regret the truth. And the truth is that her heart is breaking for this broken man. She kneels before him, setting the handful of photographs gently to the side.

“I’m sorry . . .” she says again, though this time for upsetting him so much. The gods know that hadn’t been her intention. Within his trembling form she somehow sees her other brothers: Viktor’s stoic strength combined with Ivan’s gentle sensitivity . . . it’s enough to have her wrapping her arms across her chest as if to hide the invisible, sucking hole that has opened around her heart. She doesn’t realize that she is still crying until she notices that she is shaking almost as badly as Hikari.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have come, I just . . .” She searches for words to express her intentions as she moves to sit beside him. She leans against his side, her head falling upon his shoulder as her trembling hands gently encircle his arm in a strange half-hug.

“It’s just that ever since I knew you existed I knew that I had to find you. To know that I wasn’t the only one outside of the perfect family. That I had an older brother? I wanted to know you.” She leans back slightly, bringing her arms back around herself, wiping her tears on her sleeve and forcing herself to smile.

“I guess that’s pretty selfish, huh?”

[millefabulas]

lavenderdreamsandburntoutstars·:

He’s not surprised to find she came of her own volition—the teen drama wrote itself and why should his mother start doting on her son now of all times. However, his brows do rise as she continues explaining, the theories in his mind multiplying tenfold.

“Your father.” This explained her appearance and perhaps the foreigness of her energy. “/and/ her husband?” Zabuza? Someone new altogether? He’s increasingly annoyed that they were so meaningless she remade her life not once, but two times. He’s curious at Dagnys words, but he cannot be sucked in again, not when he had been doing so well.

Hikari runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He wants to go back to sleep. He wants to walk down to headquarters and forget this day ever happened. He wants to kick this kid to the curb.

He flicks the picture back in her direction. “Look, I don’t know what all you were expecting when you came here, but you’re not going to find it.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who knows what all Viktorina’s done, or what the hell shes going to do next, but I can guarantee you that you’re going to get in over your head.” This is too much. He feels himself begin to hyperventilate. He stands straight and begins walking past her, trying to retreat back to the safety of his room. “Go home, kid. Save yourself the trouble.”

His head is swimming. He catches himself on the doorframe and knocks over one of the boxes in the process, more photos of his parents faces through the years smiling up at him. Hikari appears to wince at the sight of them and mumbles under his breath.

A chagrined smile creeps across Dagny’s face at his question of her complicated parentage. “Yeah, it’s . . . it’s a long story. See, mother married Zabuza, but I was born before . . . uh, before the others were.” Even now thinking about Viktor and Ivy had grief clawing its way into her throat, but she couldn’t dwell on that, not now, that was too much to try to explain, and Hikari already looks dubious at best.

She flinches slightly when he flicks the picture back towards her, not because she fears any harm at his hands, but because of the harshness of his words. It is odd to hear her mother’s full name fall from his lips, formal and distant as her father sometimes used to be when he spoke of her, before he thought they had any real chance at happiness. Dagny recognized the bitterness in him, it was the same that sometimes encircled her heart on her worst days. She stands as he passes her, and watches as he knocks over the box in his haste to escape. Quickly, she moves to help, picking up a handful of photographs off the floor. Her heart stutters as she looks through them, one after the other. Her mother, that face so familiar, so loved, smiling at strangers.

In one she poses with a man in a mask, his exposed eye upturned in a smile. In the next, she and a young Hikari pose with some sort of dessert. In the next, he is an infant, and her mother is teaching him to walk. In another, her mother holds the camera, pointing it at herself, while Hikari and his father sit by a lake in the background. They look so much like all picture’s she’s seen of her own childhood, of her sister and brothers. She’d thought her mother had loved them with her whole heart, but how could she have, when part of her heart had already have been given to another child? Tears well up, unbidden in Dagny’s eyes.

It’s so unfair, she thinks to herself. How could she do this to him?

“You know, I thought that I was the oldest, that I was the outsider,” she says, her voice small. She can’t bring herself to look up from the photographs, to meet Hikari’s gaze. Any hatred she might see there, she knew she deserved. “But I was wrong.”

She sighs heavily, then looks up to meet his eyes, hers burning with sincerity. “I’m so sorry, Hikari. For what our mother did. If I had known sooner, I would never have let her get away with it.”

[millefabulas]

lavenderdreamsandburntoutstars·:

His eyes narrow. “We’re all fine…” he repeats slowly, laughing humorlessly to himself. 

Though the news should bring some sort of relief, Hikari’s expression remains impassive as he shoves his hands into his pockets and leans against the wall. He goes back to what he knows and tries to deduce what he can from her appearance.

She is clearly uncomfortable in this space, yet there is something hopeful in the way she stumbles over herself, eager to impress. Hikari tilts his head to the side, really looking at her. 

She looks considerably younger than him and he takes solace in the fact that his mother had at least given it a grace period before moving on from him completely. He has tried to block both of them out of his mind, but he is sure that Zabuza looked much different than this. His eyes meet hers. Her words are simple and heavy. “Me?” Dagny’s gaze is uncanny, crawling across his skin. She had the upper hand in this situation and in rare form, he is at a loss of what to do or say next. He looks away and picks at the corner of a signed Icha Icha poster poking out of one of the boxes. “Here I am.” 

Why had he invited her in? Why did he feel so compelled to know more? Why did he care?  

“Did she tell you where to find me?” He can never bring himself to say her name, to call her mother again. 

Dagny is far too aware of her surroundings, has been taught far too well by her father, not to notice that Hikari is appraising her, learning what he can from her appearance and mannerisms. She knows, because she’s doing the same to him. She does her best not to let on that she’s caught him, but surely he’s too good not to notice. The two of them seem fairly evenly matched in the this department, and that sparks a strange flare of happiness inside of her, that they have something in common already.

He stands opposite her, distant, aloof, but already she can tell that this is a well-practiced facade. He is clever, discerning, and judging by his movement and physique, capable of great violence. Again, she sees a shadow of Zabuza in him, but it is not one of kinship -- her brothers had never been hard like the man who stands before her. No, it’s a similarity of a different sort. He holds himself like a man who has seen darkness, and had carefully built himself to withstand it.

Dagny ducks her head at his question, biting her lower lip (an unconscious habit she’d inherited from their mother), almost ashamed to admit the truth. “No . . . I tracked you down on my own. She has no idea I’m here.”

She sighs, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She owes him the truth, as complicated as it may be. “I don’t think she even knows that know I know about you. I found that picture among her old possessions when my father was moving in with her and her husband.”

She is careful to avoid her mother’s name, or even referring to her as ‘mother,’ following Hikari’s lead, unwilling to make him any more uncomfortable. Every word that leaves her mouth must surely leave Hikari with more questions than they answer, but it’s the truth.

What she doesn’t say is that she didn’t want to ask her mother about the picture, because she didn’t want to hear a lie.

[andtheywereroom-mates]

reunions

They both stare at the door in front of them. Dagny is sure it is about to burst into flame with how hard Hikari is glaring at it. However, she has known him long enough now to see past this, to see the way his clenched fists are trembling at his side. Gingerly, she places her hand over his and feels him relax, if only slightly. He meets her eyes and she can see all the anguish he kept locked tight raging on the surface. She smiles warmly. “We only have to do this if you’re ready.” 

Hikari blinks, wondering if his sister knew how much she resembled their mother when she smiled. He draws several deep breaths. There were five flights out of JFK to Kyoto that night. He glances at his watch. If he left now, he would get through security in time to possibly board on two. He draws in another deep breath, closes his eyes, and cocks his head to the side. Behind the door, he can hear three voices, no…a fourth, low and almost imperceptible. He can sense two chakra signatures and the same ethereal energy Dagny had in the south side of the room. As always, he could never quite sense his mother, like she’d cut herself off from even this most base recognition. 

This sensation sends him reeling again so he focuses harder, knitting his brows. Down the hall, the sound of a mop sloshing along the tiles can be heard. Below them is the clamor of security pacing the floor of the lobby, ten of them, further still, outside, he can hear cars stopped in traffic, six consecutive honks, and three cars screeching the brakes. Dogs barking, a rickety shopping cart clattering on the uneven sidewalk–one of its wheels are stuck, the person pushing it coughing once, twice–

“Hey.” He opens his eyes and finds Dagny standing in front of him, gripping both his arms. She knew her brother would lose himself in the tangible when he felt himself losing control of his emotions. “We can leave.”  

Hikari can feel himself coming back to his body. He is so grateful to her, not just now, but all the other times she had graced him with this unworried compassion. Before he can think too much on it again, he wrenches the door open and walks inside. 

It’s a familiar scene, though not to his eyes. The love and warmth in the room is almost palpable and suffocating.

 His eyes fall first on Dagny’s father. She was right–they really were were all mirror images of their fathers. He is setting the table, mouth turned up into a mischievious smile as he speaks, though Hikari cannot register what he’s saying. It doesn’t escape his notice how he is at once part of this scene, and apart from it, patchworked into the happy home. 

On the couch is his other sister, one of the prized three, the chosen children. She is laughing, untroubled by the world, secure in this haven of hers, punching the arm of the man beside her on the couch. 

Hikari grits his teeth at the sight of Zabuza. He knows his face too well, had agonized over it, over his history with so many unanswered questions. He imagines him experiencing a joy he never deserved all while his father was bleeding out, succumbing to this final grief the only way he knew how. 

And then, there she is, rounding the corner with a plate piled high with memories. Lazy sundays rolling the dough for vatrushkas, his mother’s hands affectionately guiding his. Their laughter as she chases a rowdier, more playful version of him around the island, flour catching the sunlight as it is tossed about the kitchen, coating them both. Feeling untouchable on her shoulders, fingers knotted in her curls, as they made their usual trip to the dango shop after the market. There had never been a moment she was not smiling, where she was not enveloping him in her outstretched arms. Back then, she had been his sun, had showed him all the ways to play and love and his world had been infinite. 

But as she flashes that same smile at her family, as her eyes soften at those she chose, he reminds himself the most important lesson of all: nothing stayed. Whatever he had hoped to gain from this reunion, shatters apart within him as all of his most cherished memories warp and rot at the sight of his mother before him. He is seething, and she must sense it because she meets his eyes and he revels in the horror in them. His thoughts threaten to overtake him. He casts an apologetic look at Dagny. Poor Dagny…she had hoped and hoped to envelop him with all the love that had been stripped away. She had worked tirelessly, patiently building him up for this moment. But she had forgotten that despite everything, she was of this world and he was not. As he turns back, he relinquishes years of meticulous control to his demons, to that unspeakable need to destroy, and the sound in the room snaps back into his system. 

[millefabulas]

Dagny steps into her home, sees her family, so happy, holds Hikari’s hand in hers, and for a moment everything clicks into place. This is how it always should have been: all of them here together. Her heart feels full to burst as she meets her father’s inquisitive look with a wide smile.

I’ve done it, she thinks in a moment of silent victory. I’ve made our family whole again. I’ve fixed their mistakes.

Then, she catches the look on her mother’s face, and it all slips away.

She turns to Hikari and watches as all the hope she’d so carefully instilled collapses in his eyes in less than a second. Her heart plummets as he turns to her, his expression apologetic and unbearably sad before it fades into a blank slate. He moves as if to step away from her, but she grabs his arm, urging him to look back at her. He can’t lose himself. Not now. Not here. Not like this.

“Hikari,” she says quietly, steadily, her voice as grounding as she can make it. “You just got here. Give them a chance.” Her grip on him tightens. “Please.”

But even as she says this, Dagny realizes the magnitude of the mistake she has made. What had she been thinking, springing this on everyone? Perhaps part of her had felt a vindictive need to show her mother that she couldn’t keep her past hidden forever, to finally make her see that some things couldn’t just be swept under the rug, that you could just imagine a child away. A larger part of her had just wanted to make things right, to correct their family’s wrongs. And, she supposed, a smaller part of her had hoped that bringing Hikari back to her mother, to herself and Kiri, would help ease the loss of her other brothers.

What a fool she’d been. Perhaps she had too much of her father’s self-righteousness in her after all. Because now, looking at Hikari’s passive face, feeling the tension of his muscles beneath her hand, feeling him tremble ever-so-slightly, she realizes that all she’d managed to do was hurt him even further. She’d been the one to push him to this, and had done nothing to make anyone receptive to his arrival. She had put hope in his mind, a hope he’d long since abandoned, and thought she had been doing him a kindness. But she hadn’t understood until this moment the true difference between them.

She’d had doubts in her life, sure. But she’d always been loved. How could he believe in something he’d never known?

“I’m sorry . . .” she whispers tremulously, for Hikari’s benefit alone.

[millefabulas]

lavenderdreamsandburntoutstars·:

Hikari shuts the door, standing in the doorway for another weighted, uncomfortable moment before moving past her to what should be the living room. He begins shifting around dusty boxes to clear a space for her. He becomes painfully aware at how sparse and…unkempt his apartment probably looks. 

“I uh…don’t spend much time here.” he mutters, dusting off a couch he hadn’t seen in so long he hardly recognized it. He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “My old man mainly uses it store all his…whatever this shit is.” 

He still has the photograph clenched in his fist. His throat is dry. He is more than dubious of her arrival–what could she possibly want from him other than to pour salt in his wounds?  

His mind is racing. He doesn’t want to make conversation with her. Hell, he doesn’t even want to look at her, but he forces himself to nonetheless. 

He focuses on the faint blue markings adorning her cheeks and arms. It was easier to trace those mysterious lines than to try to meet her gaze. There can only be one reason she’s here now. He gets to the point so he can pull his heart from his throat and find a way out of town. 

“So is she dead? Actually dead this time. Is that what you’re here to tell me?” he deadpans. 

Dagny steps further inside after Hikari, looking around the apartment. So this is how a shinobi lives? Always gone on missions, returning to a home that’s nowhere near a home, sitting alone in such an empty place until the next mission arrives? She suddenly sees Zabuza in a new light -- this must be what his life was like before he met her mother -- and suddenly that distant loneliness he has always tried to hide comes into focus.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she replies to his apologetic statement, trying to hide her discomfort. Something about seeing him amidst so many hidden relics of the past fills her with a strange sort of sadness, as if his loneliness were contagious. She takes a seat where he has cleared a space.

At his question, her eyebrows draw together, first in confusion and then shock.

“What--? Oh, no, of course not!” she rushes to assure him, waving her hands in front of her as if to ward off such a terrible thought. “I just . . .” How to explain her motives? That ever since she’d heard of his existence all she could think of was this mysterious big brother, wondering who he could be, what he was like, telling herself that he would never be alone again.

“She’s fine, we’re all fine. I just . . . wanted to find you.” It sounds lame, even to her own ears. Her eyes bore into his, as though she could read what was written on the walls of his mind.

[millefabulas]

lavenderdreamsandburntoutstars·:

Hikari takes the photo from her hands and the edges of it crinkle in his fist. His teeth clench tightly as he tries so desperately to maintain his composure, to not let this stranger see the pain the sight of her brings. 

Undoubtedly, that is her: his mother as he tries to remember her, when he allows himself to remember her. Radiant, warm, grinning at him so lovingly. He is laughing in the photo, reaching for the person taking it, presumably his father. It feels impossible to consider a time when they were normal, when they were happy. He can’t stand to look at it any longer; already he feels a dark turbulence rising up within him. 

At the woman’s hesitation, Hikari’s eyes dart up to meet hers; he already knows the damning words she will say next. So that was it. 

A sister. His calculated mind is at war with the swell of emotions eating away at his resolve. His heart is a wrecking ball in his chest, pounding his ribs into fine powder. His lungs are choking on the dust. He has so many questions–

Where did you come from? Is she alright? 

More importantly, How could she? 

How could she? 

–but he knows the answers will make him an open wound. He’s mapped out sixteen different ways to respond to this stranger, no, his family, and he finds himself taking the one that surprises him the most. 

“Maybe you should come inside.” he mutters, standing aside and outstretching his arm. 

Dagny watches the violent storm of emotions brewing beneath her brother’s face as he looks down on the picture of him and their mother. When she first saw this photograph, she too had felt conflicting emotions. Seeing her mother, so young, so happy, smiling at a child she did not recognize, had brought up strong feelings within her. All of her life, Dagny had been the odd child out, the eldest and unplanned product of a sordid affair. Of course, she had grown up loved, her incredible family had seen to that. But it didn’t change the fact that too many times she had seen her father sit alone, or looked in a window at her mother’s other family and felt superfluous.

And then to discover that she had not been the original? That it had all happened before, that there had been another . . . an older brother. One who, unlike her, had been utterly abandoned by the family unit that had sheltered her. She couldn’t believe it -- it was unconscionable. And now, seeing him for the first time, watching him look upon their mother’s face with such anger, hurt, and longing . . .

Her heart is breaking.

At his invitation, Dagny smiles at him, soft, kind, understanding. She crosses the threshold of his home; further than she ever thought she would get in this endeavor.

“Thank you,” she says, the manners her father’s family had hammered into her cloaking any conflicted feelings she harbors.

[notdelicateatall]

“i’m fine, it’s just a flesh wound, i’ll be okay.”

“Oh my god, if you start doing Monty Python right now I swear I’m going to leave you to bleed out alone,” Eddie snaps—but his hands are gentle as he wraps the bandages around Richie’s palm where the kitchen knife had slipped, tucking the end of the wrap firmly to secure it, then smoothing his thumb over the back of Richie’s hand.

[millefabulas]

Richie can’t keep the small smile off his face as he watches Eddie bandage his hand. He’s always been so careful, so meticulous, even as a kid. He loves the way Eddie’s brow furrows as he chastises him, loves the faint shadows his eyelashes cast across his face, loves the way he sticks his tongue out when he concentrates. God, he loves him.

“You’re right, it’s pretty serious.” He takes Eddie’s hand in his uninjured one, pulling him close, and throws his head back dramatically. “I don’t think I’ll make it Eds! Agh! Go on without me!”

[notdelicateatall]

“you’re my friend, of course i fucking care.”

Eddie fights a blush, biting his lip to keep from smiling too hard at the word “friend.” They’ve been friends since elementary school, but hearing Richie say it out loud always makes him feel… something. He’s not sure how to label it. Somehow his anxiety from only a moment ago has all but vanished, just from Richie’s words.

He still has to answer, though. “I know you care, Rich, but I still can’t tell you who. I don’t even know if it is a crush, okay, and Bev should have kept it to herself instead of telling the whole world about it.”

[millefabulas]

“Well then why’d you even tell her?” Richie isn’t jealous. Of course not. That’d be fucking dumb. It’s not like he and Eddie have been friends forever, not like they tell each other everything, and now Eddie’s confiding in Pretty In Pink whom they’d practically just met. It’s not like he cares about any of that. What does it even matter if Eddie has a crush? That literally doesn’t affect him at all.

Except, it does, if anything should come of it. Richie’s noticed the way Ben and Bill both look at Beverly, and yeah, in a way, he gets it. She’s fine as far as girls go, with her sporty behavior and rebellious attitude. But what happens when the others start, like, dating while he’s still waiting for the whole ‘girl thing’ to click. What happens if he never figures it out?

“You’d better be careful, though. If your mom finds out you like another girl, she might get jealous.”

[millefabulas]

@notdelicateatall​ continued from here.

There is an emotion too big to contain bursting inside Richie. Every feeling he’s ever repressed, every word he never said, every glance and casual touch and all those empty, empty years missing something that he couldn’t even name — it all builds up until it feels like choking. He’s here. Eddie is here in front of him. Richie drinks him in. He seems . . . wrong, his edges blurry, his eyes too far away, and yet. And yet. It’s him.

“Eddie, I . . . ” Richie takes a hesitant step forward, then another. He reaches out a hand but withdraws it almost immediately, wondering what he meant to do. What could he say? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I tried to get you out, I tried, they wouldn’t let me, god, forgive me please . . .

“This isn’t . . . this isn’t another fucked up trick, is it?”

[millefabulas]

“I am buried here.” —Eddie @notdelicateatall

@notdelicateatall

Richie stands outside the wrought iron gate, staring at dead lawn and thriving sunflowers. He told himself he wouldn’t come here again, he’d promised Bev . . . but he’d always been a liar, hadn’t he? It looks just as they’d left it, a pile of splintered wood, shingles, tiles, broken glass, all sitting low in the mangled pit of a sinkhole. Only a matter of time, the local officials had said, the place has been rotting for years.

What had he meant to do here? He doesn’t know. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, sweaty and shaking and he swallows past the sob climbing its way into his throat. This is stupid. This is so stupid. He pulls a flask from his pocket, takes a bracing swig. It’s over. It’s over. He should move on like all the others — live his life —

The voice comes from behind him and Richie’s breath catches in his throat, his heart strangling itself inside his chest. No. No it can’t be what he thought he heard. He spins around and sees — Jesus fucking Christ — he sees . . .

Richie stares and stares and stares. He takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, and when he puts them back it is still there. He’s still there. Richie feels sick.

“Eddie . . . Eds . . .”

[broodingbird-deactivated2019041]

the song of achilles meme

[millefabulas]

broodingbird‌:

       i recently finished this book and it was just…so…beautiful, so i wanted to make a lil meme thing cause their were a lot of really great quotes & actions tbh. i thought it’d be nice to share ‘em and write ‘em out. change the pronouns to your liking ~

p.s. i kinda went over board so i put my favs above the read more and the rest ( more generic types of sent. memes ) under the read more. enjoy !

“ i will never leave ____. it will be this , always, for as long as _____ will let me. “

“ i would like to know how you are going to stop the losers from declaring war on you ? “

“ will you help me put the rest of my armor on ? “

“ we are finished here. “

“ do not leave. “

“ did you ever think of having children ? “

“ ___ is half my soul, as the poets say. “

“ I could recognize ____ by touch alone, by smell; I would know ____ blind, by the way ____ breaths came and ___ feet struck the earth. I would know ____ in death “

“ coward. “

“ ____ is a weapon. a killer. do not forget it. “

“ you can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change it’s nature. “

“ i do not plan to live after ____ is gone. “

“ philtatos. “ ( means ‘most beloved’ ) 

“ i could kill you still. “

“ i am sorry for your loss. “

“ name one hero who was happy. “

“ they never let you be famous and happy. “

“ let me bring you food and drink. “

“ i cannot bear to see you grieving. “

“ there are no bargains between lions and men. i will kill you and eat you raw. “

“ is it worth your life ? “

“ i hope that ____ kills you. “

“ get out. get out ! “

“ _____ is dead. “

“ i am buried here. “

“ we die so easily. “

“ you will not speak another word or you will be sorry. “

“ i wish he had left you to all die. “

“ if you have to go, i will go with you. “

“ i am made of memories. “

“ listen to me. “

“ i will not live much longer. “

“ you are a better man than i. “

“ i do not need to prove myself to you. “

“ are you calling me a liar ? “

“ i do not care. i will be dead soon. “

[millefabulas]

spitfirekunoichi‌:

Kill…

The word reverberates in her mind, a haunting, devastating echo. It cuts her to the core: living a life without him had never remotely been a thought in her mind. 

“So….we will fight. Dagny has been pouring over Asgardian texts trying to find some kind of loophole or…anything, anyone to prove you didn’t do this. Your relationship may have been rocky, but you would never hurt your brother….” Vix hesitates and corrects herself. “Would never have hurt your brother.” 

“And Tony and the rest know that….they’re just letting their grief get in the way of their sense.” She’s racking her brain for every possibility, refusing to linger on the one chance that there really is no solution. “Dagny….is not like us. She would never be a part of something so underhanded for her own gain, not at the expense of others, and certainly not a stake so high.” 

“I have no say here…but that doesn’t mean I can’t find those who do, whether it’s Dagny’s way….or my own.” 

The smile she gives him is just as hollow and defeated as his own, but the intensity of her gaze and the truth of her words are entirely sincere. “Permission.” she scoffs, “Darling, don’t you know there is nothing in this universe that could ever keep me from finding my way to you.” 

Loki finds little comfort in Vix’s assurance of the other members of their extended ‘family’s thoughts on his innocence, or in any attempt to prove that it exists. Proof of his innocence would do nothing if they could not provide the true perpetrator of the crime. He relays this information to Vix. 

“The Asgardians need someone to punish, to make an example of, or it will seem that anyone can kill their leaders with no recourse.”

Dagny. At the mention of their daughter something tightens in his chest. He’d been trying to keep thoughts of her at bay, lest he wear himself away with grief over the loss of his brother and the separation from his child. He eased his mind with the knowledge that Momochi, for all he hated Loki, would not let any harm come to Vix’s blood. He would offer surrogacy and protection to Dagny as far as was in his power. (Momochi was an asshole, but he was an honorable one).

“How is she?” Thoughts of his own well-being would be shoved aside until he was assured of his daughter’s condition. 

[millefabulas]

spitfirekunoichi‌:

She chews on her lip, wincing as he presses on. He has every right to spew this venom and every word of it is the truth. 

Vix had learned most of the story long after it had been decided; after their fallout, the Momochi’s had separated themselves from their newfound family, moving back to Japan to have the children closer to their father’s roots and to have their mother far from any temptation. Nevertheless, the triplets kept in constant communication with their sister; Vix knew something was direly wrong, but willfully ignored it to play the Happy Wife and Mother. This answer is a thousand times worse than her simple absence could ever be. 

He is so close to her, yet more distant than he’s ever been. She wants nothing more than to push through the barrier between him and take him into her arms. At least providing the solace of her touch, where everywhere else she had failed him. 

All these years I thought.. 

Her heart breaks at his hopelessness; her eyes are pleading, but he’s already distancing himself once more, reminding her of all their tarnished silver. 

Vix inhales deeply, steeling herself. This was not about her. This was about saving him. She attempts to push back all the emotions running rampant in her chest and focus on the one thing the two of them excelled at more than anything: survival. “You’re right. Words can be…empty.” She paces in front of his cell. “But you can’t deny that I know you, Loki. Better than your brother, better than our daughter, hell, in many ways even better than yourself.” She pauses with her back turned to him, fidgeting with her fingers.  “I wasn’t here when you needed me….and I am not asking you to forgive me.” Vix turns to look at him with a soft expression and presses her hands against the barrier. “But I am here now, my love. Just tell me how I can help you.” 

Her open, vulnerable expression is like a knife in his heart, twisting so mercilessly he cannot catch a breath. For all his haughty words, he cannot doubt for an instant her intentions in this moment. Damn her, though she may be flighty and distant and impossible to pin down ( and would he want her any other way? ) she is also piercingly straightforward and direct with her desires. And right now, her desire is to help him. This he must believe. 

However . . .

“I . . .” and the truth presses in on him, making this cage seem smaller by the second. His voice is far softer than he intends for it to be with the admission, “I don’t know that there’s anything to be done. I don’t think . . .”

He’d gotten out of impossible scrapes before, but nothing so dire. The last instance he’d found himself imprisoned in this tomb was for crimes against the Earth --- more demonstration than anything else given how little Odin weighed the lives of Midgardians. But this. No, the Asgardians would not abide regicide, not with their government and place amongst the Realms as broken and uncertain as it was. This would mean his death. How could it not? 

“This will not stand. They will kill me. If I run they will never stop searching. And who is there to believe my innocence? Your word alone will not be enough.” Even as he says it, he registers how tired he is of running. He feels like his been running toward this conclusion all his life.

His laugh is a hollow, empty thing. “I can’t believe they even allowed you access to me. Though I doubt that you asked for permission.” 

[millefabulas]

lavenderdreamsandburntoutstars‌:

Zabuza Momochi, how do you keep getting yourself dragged into these things?

Vix was always late. He should have anticipated as much, but ever punctual, Zabuza had spent the last hour slumped on her bed, alternately fidgeting with his hair and glaring uneasily at Vix’s cat, Kolya.

Finally, she emerges from the bathroom with a resolute, “Alright, how do I look?”

Zabuza sits up on the edge of the bed. In a word: she’s stunning.

Vix was an effortless kind of beautiful, but nights like these required a meticulous art at which the heiress herself was unparalleled. Every detail is coordinated, from the stilettos tied at her ankles, to the jeweled comb holding her unruly curls back from her face. She twirls with a grin, showing off her golden dress and her exposed back. He knows she is showcasing her makeover, that she’ll compare notes with her friends as soon as they get there, but what really made her glow was those aspects of her that were always there. The constellation of freckles dusting her cheeks, the brilliant smile she gave him as she admired her handiwork, the warmth of her eyes.

Of course, he tells her none of this and instead gives the most succinct reply.

“Good.” he replies, “So you’re ready to go?”

“Almost, but first… a little pre-party party!” she exclaims, darting down the hallway to her kitchen.

Zabuza raises an eyebrow as he languidly follows behind her with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He doesn’t understand why she seemed so resistant to leave; this level of lateness is unprecedented, even for her. Normally she would be rushing to publicly place him out of his comfort zone and watch the chaos. Not that he is complaining; the solitude of her company was always more enticing than that of her more obnoxious friends.

He rounds the corner to the distinct -pop- of a Champagne bottle and Vix’s open, bubbly laugh as it spills over onto the counter. He has to admit, her giddiness is both infectious and endearing, and he can’t help the soft smile that dances on his lips.

Just as Vix is about to stand on tip toe to reach the glasses, Zabuza is already placing a hand on her shoulder and handing them down to her. By now, the two have already fallen into a practiced routine, able to sense each other in so many unspoken ways–not surprising when it involves a man of few words. Vix crosses the room and puts on some music, swaying to its rhythm with a faraway smile. Zabuza sighs lightheartedly, “Are we ever going to leave?” Grinning, the brunette extends an arm to him and what was he to do….refuse a beautiful woman?

They aren’t sure how much time they pass doing ridiculous dances and chatting and laughing together. Vix has been happily dancing by herself, lost in her own world with her arms tossed above her head.

She’s incredibly enchanting in that moment when she isn’t trying to be anything for anyone. Before he can register that he’s been staring, she catches his gaze and gives him a coquettish grin. Zabuza’s eyes follow the orbits of her hips and Vix’s smile only deepens. It’s provocative, watching him, watching her. There’s an unease in the air, a tension neither of them dares to name or place.

Vix takes a long sip of her drink–liquid courage–before ambling to where Zabuza has been leaning against the sink. Her eyes are locked on his, alight with a challenge and something else…something hesitant, as she comes to stand between his legs.

“We should probably get going, huh Michi?” Zabuza stands a bit straighter, looking down at her curiously, his heart pounding at the proximity. “We should. Your friends will be waiting.” Her hand runs down his upper arm and rests at his wrist.  “They will. And we’re already late.” Without thinking, his arms encircle her, pull her smaller frame closer. She breaths a satisfied sigh, a sound unexpected enough to give him chills. His voice is low, a murmur. “We are. You wouldn’t want to miss out.” She can’t think straight with him looking at her like that, with his fingers gingerly tracing the buttons of her spine, and that low growl stirring up an unexpected flush across her skin.  “No…” her eyes glance down at his mouth, at those sinful teeth, before meeting the intensity of his eyes once again. “No I wouldn’t…”

Zabuza finds himself drawing in a shaky breath as her eyes flutter closed and she inches closer. A thousand thoughts run through his head in an instant: all the reasons why and why not, every memory of love lost and faded, every misplaced moment her touch ran a shock of electricity straight through him that he swiftly shoved aside. He’s staring at her mouth parting softly and is overwhelmed by the desire to discover what wanton sounds he could make fall from those lips. However, just as suddenly as the moment had crept upon them, it bursts. Vix’s ringtone slashes through the silence, causing them both to start, blinking at one another for a moment before the kunoichi rushes out of his arms to find her phone.

Vix barely registers her friend’s furious diatribe on the other end of the phone. Her fingers trace the blush staining her cheeks, as if she could will it away by touch alone. No way that Zabuza—Zabuza!— of all people made her blush like a teenager. And with what, a simple hug? With those toned arms, dangerous enough to kill, but delicately…intimately tracing along her skin, dizzying her nearly as much as those dark, enigmatic eyes– In the mirror, she notices that her fingers are trembling, but she finds it is more from excitement than any real fears. Gingerly, they brush against her lips. Had… she been about to kiss Zabuza? “Vix?! Vix! I know you hear me. Get here!” Vix smiles to herself in the mirror. “Mai, I’ve got to go.”

Zabuza runs a hand down his face, shaking off the sudden tension that had gripped him. What was that all about? It’s only Vix. He turns and splashes water into his face, regaining his calm demeanor. She’s only the most annoying person you’ve ever met that somehow weaseled you into friendship. Friendship, nothing more. Nevertheless, the way Zabuza paces the length of the room betrays his anxieties. Every weighted footfall hammers home another intrusive, albeit enticing thought, as though that single instance burst open the floodgates on imagining Vix in a whole new, sexier light. What was that all about?

Vix reenters the room, her head still swimming. Zabuza pauses his steps, rubbing the back of his neck, looking at everything but her to keep his thoughts at bay. She mistakes this response for regret and disinterest and begins to chew on the inside of her lip, deflating. Wordlessly, she cuts off the music and makes for the door. The sudden shift takes him aback, but he nevertheless grabs her coat for her as she continues to grab her things. She hesitates before gingerly looping her arms through, steeling her eyes closed as his fingers lingeringly caress the expanse of her shoulders. For his part, Zabuza can’t help but admire the sleek swell of muscle her dress exposes. His hands move of their own volition; a single index finger sliding across the soft space between her shoulder blades. In all their time together, how had he not noticed the vision before him? Meanwhile Vix can hardly contain the wild desire that has resurfaced.

….Fuck it…

Vix turns to face him once again. “Zabuza…?” she murmurs. Her tone has him equal parts curious and concerned. “What’s wrong?” She glances down at her feet, and both of them can sense the weight of what could come next, of the heat they feel when their gazes meet again. This time, she is not so cautious as she places his hands low on her waist and grips his shirt, pulling him down to her height. “I don’t want to go the party.” It is that husky whisper that breaks him.

In one fluid motion, their hungry lips meet and Vix is pulling Zabuza by his belt loops towards the nearest surface. Her fingers tangle in his dark locks as his hand clenches against the counter, the other arm scooping her up closer. She mewls against his mouth and its all he can do to keep from melting into the floor. Her lips are soft against his, despite their insistent, avaricious movements. She breaks away to trail open-mouthed kisses along his jawline and down his neck, slow and teasing, reverent. She tears his shirt open–”I hated this shirt anyways.”– and is captivated by how stunning he is. Her hands run down the plane of his chest, indexing every scar and delve, before tracing coaxing lines along his waistband. Zabuza groans, gripping and pulling at her hips and rear to relieve his growing arousal.  All of it is too much and not enough: he needs more of her. With an appreciative grunt, Zabuza tucks his hands beneath her thighs and hoists her onto the counter, eliciting a surprised giggle from the kunoichi. Reservations were out the window it seemed. He smirks back in response as she wraps her legs around his waist; Vix’s lip catches between her teeth. Face it….you’re done for.

One hand comes to rest at the base of her head, encouraging her lips to meet his again, as the other traces the expanse of her thigh and teasingly rubs along the fabric of her lace underwear. Jesus.. The action causes her head to fall back with a breathy exhale and Zabuza takes advantage of the moment to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck and deftly slide his nimble digits into her folds, groaning at how her body welcomed his touch. A shockwave of pleasure radiates through her and an appreciative moan tumbles from her parted lips. Her nails claw into his back as his he hits all the right spots. Zabuza buries his nose in her hair, reveling in her ecstasy as she arches against him. It is…heavenly. Vix senses her release approaching quickly, and her stubbornness outweighs the absolutely delicious sensations Zabuza is causing. She attempts to apparate away, but her body is still humming and she only clumsily manages to collide into Zabuza’s chest. He tilts his head, thoroughly amused. “Something wrong, Vix?” The mildly annoyed expression on her face only widens his grin.

He leans down to kiss her again, but this time she ducks beneath his arm. He raises a questioning brow, the playful expression she wears easing the immediate concern that he had done something wrong. As he steps towards her, Vix steps around the island, both jolting into their chase. He has years of training on his side, however, and easily sweeps her into his arms and claims his prize as he sets her down. When she leans in once more, it is his turn to dart further down the hallway. “A little too slow, angel.” he chuckles, shuffling out of her reach. Now he’s struck her competitive streak. Before he can register the action, she has warped behind him and steals a kiss as he whirls around in surprise. Zabuza frowns. “No ninjutsu, that’s cheating.” The kunoichi tumbles back onto her bed, an inviting smirk on her lips. “Then get over here and give me my kiss again.”

Zabuza smiles bashfully down at the ground as he comes to sit on the bed beside her; his pause unnerves her and she sits up. “What is it…?” Zabuza’s eyes rove over her face and he tucks her hair behind her ear; she blushes lightly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs softly. When they kiss, it is slow and sensual, reigniting the unexpected yearning that had triggered the night’s events, even as it is tender and lingering, a declaration more profound than any words could ever be. He pulls away to find her with her eyes still closed in stunned silence.

“My, my…the loudmouth is speechless for once. If I’d known this is what it took to shut you up, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” He laughs genuinely. His mind is usually deafening and turbulent with the voices of his demons and memories of the past. However in this moment, it is silent; in this moment, there is nothing but her. She’s never seen him so expressive and carefree. Her eyes drink in the sight of his crinkled eyes, of his dazzling grin, of all his tenderness. Could a heart ever beat so loudly for another person, could hers hold love enough for a lifetime of offering it to him? Vix’s delicate fingers caress Zabuza’s face before pressing their foreheads together. Zabuza’s laughter gradually subsides and the two linger there in an intimate, timeless moment.

Vix guides Zabuza onto his back and his hands come to rest on her hips as she straddles him. Her amorous gaze never leaves his as she lifts the edges of her dress up and over her head, tossing it into a forgotten heap on the floor. “I’m yours,” As Zabuza’s eyes trail down her taut, now exposed body, he utters a soft groan.  “If you’ll have me…”  She hardly finishes the words before his hands are cupping her face for a passionate kiss. They both moan as Vix moves against Zabuza’s growing erection; nimble fingers quickly remove his jeans and boxers and before he can make a motion, her tongue is swirling lazy circles along his length. His hand roughly grips the back of her neck as a growl escapes from deep in his throat. She is satisfied that she is able to have such control over him and the force with which she holds his hips in place, denying him the pace he desired, is enough to drive him even more wild. After what feels like an agonizing length of time, she is crawling back up his body, leaving hot kisses along his skin in her wake.

“You are a tease…” Zabuza mutters against her collarbone. “You didn’t seem to be complaining,” she quips. “That I was not…” his lips ghost over the shell of her ear, his voice thick with want, “My Vixen.” The pet name elicits a shudder from the kunoichi. Zabuza tenderly holds her chin between his fingers, “Look at me,” he breathes. She obliges and in their shared gaze is an unspoken adoration, a holy vow consecrating their union as they finally close the distance between their intimacy.

They are a frenzy of wayward hands, lips, and tongues, staking a claim on every inch of bare skin. Zabuza’s hands have a vice grip on her rear, encouraging Vix’s movements as she draws him deeper. His name falls like a broken prayer from her lips as his mouth descends on her breasts, the sensation of the softness of his tongue clashing with that of his fanged teeth. Vix murmurs something he doesn’t understand and slips her tongue between his lips; whatever it is, he senses a shift. He can’t remember the last time he felt so….loved. He wants to spend eternity lost in her bewitching eyes, enclosed in her embrace.

All at once, he is standing, lifting her off the bed. Her back hits the wall and she lets out an impassioned cry as this new position allows Zabuza to push himself further inside her. “M-Michi~!” His breath grows ragged as he rests his forehead against her neck, moving faster and harder, anything to draw more love-soaked sounds from her lips. Her nails bite into his back and as her body shudders with pleasure; he pulls away to take in her expression. Her eyes are hazy with desire and devotion for the man before her. The reciprocated look in his eyes is enough to send her over the edge. “Baby, I…can’t take it..” Zabuza groans as she tightens around him. He kisses her sweetly, interlacing their fingers and staving off his own release with clenched teeth. “Do it for me, love.” he breathes. And in that instant, she can imagine that there will be a hundred more nights like these, breathing sweet nothings into the night, filling the hollows of their hearts with passionate embraces. In that instant, she can imagine he loves her as they both topple into nirvana with a final, satisfied moan.

They recollect their senses in a tangle of limbs on the bed. Zabuza is the first to speak with a teasing, “I win.” Vix furrows her brow. “What?” Zabuza grins to himself, “The Master Seductress broke first. I win.” Vix sits up with an indignant huff, but her tirade is already being silenced by Zabuza’s tender kiss. “Do you want me to stay the night?” She is silent a moment before nodding and resting her head on his chest. Zabuza kisses the top of her head and traces his fingers along her lower back. He recedes into his thoughts, still uncharacteristically pleasant; every so often, he glances down at the gorgeous woman in his arms in a mixture of amazement and disbelief. When he feels sure that she is asleep, he pulls her closer still, the smell of lavender accosting his senses. “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Vix.” Musing that thought, for the first time in a long time, he drifts easily to sleep.

Zabuza Momochi, what have you gotten yourself into this time?