#int. river

[peterbasara]

"Fun?" Peter parrots back in disbelief, looking over his shoulders at the interior of the coffee shop as if he was attempting to see where the alleged 'fun' was taking place.

"Dude, you'd probably have more fun getting a root canal. What about this screamed 'fun' to you?"

@riv-kaplan

"Honestly," He started, a smile tugged on his lips. "A coffee shop seemed the most fun."

[clownkissersinternational]

continuing my saga of drawing will happy

this is just a doodle please dont berate me

[egotistival]

"there's never going to be a "next time.""

the words echoed in the dim room of her apartment, causing a sort of cascade effect on vanessa. she was sort of numb, not used to rejection in the least and confused. it was obvious that gemma liked her, right? ... so what was the problem? the actress tried for a smile but it came out slightly awkward on her face. "i mean, no one has to know if that's what you're worried about." @honeyhour

[mrs-elijah-wood]

Obsesseddddddd with them. Also Gale proposing in nothing but his purple underwear had me reeling

[troublcmakcrs]

"Gaming laptops come and go; overdose is forever!"

[mikuhats]

being vulnerable and talking about my feelings with my friends ive known for a decade

[silkchvffon]

PANIC RISES SLIGHTLY WHEN VIVIAN simply agrees. river had expected more of a fight, had prepared for it, would even welcome it — now he has no idea what to do. technically he's winning, but he doesn't want to be. he huffs and motions towards the wall of pillows now dividing them. « nah, if i somehow touch you through all of that i'm expecting a trophy of sorts, » river mutters, though to be honest if they actually do touch he might just scream. the shit - eating grin on his face says otherwise though.

@lwrisejns

[psychedelicsunflwr]

starter: closed for @buryeden location: river's house

Despite his name being River, the man seemed to come in waves, rather than a steady flowing stream. From intense highs to dramatic lows, Phoenix had grown to recognize her friend's sudden fluctuations. Including the short periods of time that he would fall off the grid.

While she knew better than to worry, Phoenix couldn't resist the urge to check in. Even if it meant showing up at his house uninvited and unannounced. As she reached the door to River's Oakbury home, Phoenix took a deep breath and raised her fist to give the door a firm knock. From the driveway alone, it was difficult to detect whether anyone was home, though the growing stack of mail sitting on River's front step was enough cause for concern.

Pushing herself up onto her toes, the redhead did her best to peer through the small glass window as she began to knock more desperately. "River, open up! I know you're in there!"

[malicieuses]

cont

@lovcfoolsx

“For once?” It’s not a statement, there is a question marked clear and firm the end of the statement. “When have I ever lied to you before and why the fuck would I start now?” She wasn’t asking, she was demanding. Eyes squinted, anger poised and ready, reflecting in dark eyes.

[heartsdefine]

"In my defense, I was left unsupervised." ↳ @timesense — memes / accepting!

        "Lucky it wasn't my turn to watch you." Grinning, Lin leans into River's space conspiratorially. "Now you must tell me everything." https://heartsdefine.tumblr.com/tagged/v%3B%20lin%20main.%20%28%20i%27m%20going%20back%20home%20to%20outer%20space%20%29

[malicieuses]

open to | m, f, nb

insp by.

It was the third hotel in three weeks, the third cross country venture that would once again have her name and face strewn across the blogs, the third time, this month, that she’d laugh at the headlines in her underwear, reading them as she sipped the tea they’d paid for. The assumption that she was a groupie, that she was someone who needed to ride their coat tails until it landed her with a fifteen minutes of well deserved fame, well…it was the source of genuine laughter. She’d been the one that refused the label, that refused the life, that came along with being associated, any more than they already had. Yet in still, when they called, she came. Every single time, without hesitation.

Bare feet were kicked up on the table, dark eyes lifted from her phone screen. “You realize I’m supposed to leave in four hours, right? Might as well say goodbye now, and give the paparazzi downstairs their next headline.” A chuckle followed, rolling her eyes as she leaned back against the couch.

[sgiandubh]

(Perhaps) the right end of the stick?

Just before the sordid show of which I have been the unwilling subject, I have promised you my take on this whole Mexican charade and I intend to settle this once and for all.

In the meanwhile, I have been watching with a jubilatory smirk, from the side wings of the fandom, how the dots have been, as always, connected in the most mendacious possible way. And how rivers of pixels have ran amok with the utmost minutiae regarding that distillery trip to San Sebastián del Oeste.

For what is worth, everyone kept an eye exclusively on the Czech young woman, simply because that was the narrative to be sold to S's fandom. And what I believe is the wrong end of the stick, waterfall sound tidbit on top. But we know that, at least ever since that (in)famous 'Go, Sarah', right?

Despite my hinting in comments, almost nobody asked themselves anything of substance about The Fan, whose first selfie with S gave away the getaway (see what I just did here?).

This lady, to be more precise - forgive me, but I think you might not remember her, right?

Or should I rather say Dr. Sarah and Mrs Solange Neustadter, judging by her dual, and even manifold, online persona?

First, there was Dr. Sarah Neustadter, PhD, specialized in clinical and transpersonal psychology and author of Love You Like the Sky, a rather well received book on grief management and coping mechanisms, after someone's suicide:

[Source: https://sarahneustadter.com/about/]

Up until now, there is strictly nothing to write home about. Enter Mrs. Solange Neustadter, who is really Dr. Neustadter's version 2.0. With a slightly different profile, personal brand and short-term projects:

[Source: https://www.instagram.com/solange_neue/]

She is supposedly an OL/S fan, but how come there is zero OL-related content on her Instagram page? Not the slightest shred of an allusion, while we do have many references to travel (with Mexico a firm favorite), Anthony Bourdain, comparative mythology authors like Joseph Campbell and his Hero with a Thousand Faces (a great read I highly recommend, by the way), etc. And even her former boyfriend, that she unfortunately lost to suicide - hence the book, which I believe is a very good one.

Things become perhaps more interesting once we move to X, which proves that at some point, The Fan felt the need of a change in her own life:

[Source: https://x.com/SolangeNeue]

For some reason, I found this short comment tidbit quite interesting, especially considering her new, very recent Captain Solange personal brand:

But also a slowly emerging interest for Hollywood and its Tinseltown industry:

A screenwriter, absolutely. With a strong interest in learning how to become a professional and a romantic drama feature screenwriting project. As such, she took part to the Stowe Story Labs' Fifth Annual Sidewalk Narrative Lab, a workshop and networking-oriented side event of the Sidewalk Film Festival (Birmingham, Alabama), an indie oriented event which managed to attract Time Magazine's attention:

[Source: https://stowestorylabs.org/news/stowe-story-labs-announces-roster-for-fifth-annual-sidewalk-narrative-lab]

And now for her newest incarnation, Captain Solange, The (surprised?) Influencer. Not really successful, if compared with her ambitions, but hey, a girl can dream:

[Source: https://www.thehandbook.com/influencer/solange-neustadter/ - last updated on July 14th, 2023]

It is, of course, just a coincidence, that her new website has just been released after her Mexican trip:

[Source: https://www.solangeneue.com/]

Basically, yet another women-oriented empowerment and dating/ life coach service, with rather hefty price tags to boot:

Her six-weeks programme based in LAX promises her clients 'life changing tools', in order to 'make [them] feel outrageous and connected'. Also, this - for some reason, this caught my eye:

'Hot tips on where to meet great Angelenos' - here is where a bell does ring, indeed. I can't help but wonder if this very interesting person is on Raya, hmmm.

To cut the story short, I am honestly asking myself a couple of very simple questions:

What are the odds (and by this, I mean the organic odds) that a screenwriter-cum-influencer wannabe, who is in dire need of networking and/or some extra social media exposure, would spontaneously meet S in Nayarit, Jalisco, Mexico?

And what are the odds the above screenwriter-cum-influencer would post the selfie that relaunched some wild innuendo, in a very much overdriven fringe of a C-lister's fandom?

Come to think of it, this is a really, really small favor to ask of a friendly, but definitely transactional 'stranger'. And mutually beneficial, to say the least. Note she immediately knew what to do: after luring the iPhone Alarm Tumblr Brigade, she quickly deleted the tag on her post, along with all the nosy fan questions. Go figure, huh?

The rest of the story really did write itself. This is nothing we have not already seen. I could take bets, already, perhaps including what next week will bring us. Heh.

I am going to let you draw your own conclusions. I could be tragically wrong, in which case I am ready to acknowledge and recalibrate, as always. But let's also remember this simple cycle/pattern:

Instagram follow (mutual or not, it does not matter, at this point in time) -> Fan pic (usually a latergram) -> Instagram Story (now, with voices 🙄) -> Mutual/Collateral Instagram follow(s) -> even more innuendo -> if it does stick: double down, no matter how outrageously/if it does not stick, abort operation and leave in drawer, ready for future reactivation.

It never fails.

Aye, caramba! Exactly.

[thecreaturecodex]

Sabreclaw

Image © TSR Inc.

[The sabreclaw first appeared in Sabre River, a Basic D&D module, and then was reprinted in the Creature Catalogue. And then in the Mystara Monstrous Compendium for AD&D, which is where this art appears. The sabreclaw is clearly an attempt to fill the design need of making minions challenging to high level characters, which is where their cumulative defenses came in. Since AC is much more scalable in 3.x and Pathfinder than it is in earlier or later editions, I gave it cumulative offenses as well. I did tone down its nastiest ability; originally, all members of a wing fully share hit points, so none of them die unless all of them die. Combine that with an immunity to 1st-3rd level spells in the original, and every fight with these is gonna be a bit of a slog. The transfer health ability is intended to capture some of that flavor without being nearly so hostile to the players]

Sabreclaw CR 3 LE Aberration This humanoid creature has greasy black fur over its body and leathery wings growing from its back. Its face is distorted, rugose and vaguely simian. Its left hand is prehensile, but its right is taken up with a single oversized claw.

Sabreclaws are unnatural creatures, created through fleshwarping to be soldiers without goals or desires of their own. Sabreclaws are found in squads, called wings, almost exclusively; a lone sabreclaw is likely to be the survivor of a destroyed wing, and is usually desperate, insane or both. Sabreclaws do not have a functional individual identity—they think of themselves as agents of their creator, and view other members of their wing the same way typical creatures think of their arms and legs as parts of themselves.

Sabreclaw wings fight en masse, dive-bombing a target and tearing them to pieces with their namesake claws. Their tactics are usually uncreative, but effective: gang up on a single target until it stops moving, move onto the next one. The more sabrewings are clustered together, the more effective combatants they become, and a sabrewing can even relay hit points to a wounded comrade to keep them in the fight longer. Whether a sabreclaw wing retreats to choose its battles, or goes out in a blaze of glory, depends more on the desires of their master than it does any tactical sense or personal choice for the sabrewings.

Unlike many fleshwarped monster, sabreclaws are created from non-sapient creatures, namely baboons. They are always made in batches—if a single sabreclaw awakens without a wing to call its own, it lashes out violently and uncontrollably. Fledgling fleshwarpers may view using animals to create fleshwarps as a lesser evil than transforming humanoids, but few creators are resolute enough to remain at that level of mad science. Indeed, sabreclaws are often used to gather “raw materials” by their masters. Sabreclaws are carnivorous, but require much less food and water than natural creatures of their size.

Sabreclaw CR 3 XP 800 LE Medium aberration Init +5 (+9 with hive mind); Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +8 (+12 with hive mind), true seeing

Defense AC 15, touch 12, flat-footed 13 (+1 Dex, +1 dodge, +3 natural) hp 27 (5d8+5) Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +6 Immune poison; SR 14 Defensive Abilities cumulative defenses, evasion

Offense Speed 30 ft., fly 90 ft. (poor) Melee claw +6 (1d12+4) Special Attacks cumulative offenses, powerful charge (claw, 2d12+4)

Statistics Str 17, Dex 13, Con 13, Int 6, Wis 14, Cha 2 Base Atk +3; CMB +6; CMD 18 Feats Dodge, Improved Initiative, Mobility, Outflank (B), Precise Strike (B) Skills Fly +4, Perception +8 (+12 with hive mind), Stealth +7 Languages Common (cannot speak), telepathy 120 ft. (other sabreclaws only) SQ hive mind, transfer health

Ecology Environment any land Organization solitary, wing (2-20) or army (21-200) Treasure incidental

Special Abilities Cumulative Defenses (Su) A sabreclaw gains a +1 insight bonus to Armor Class and saving throws for every 2 sabreclaws in range of its telepathy, to a maximum of +5 for 10 sabreclaws. Cumulative Offenses (Su) A sabreclaw gains a +1 morale bonus to attack and damage rolls for every 2 sabreclaws in range of its telepathy, to a maximum of +5 for 10 sabreclaws. Hive Mind (Ex) As long as a sabreclaw is within telepathic range of one allied sabreclaw, it gains a +4 racial bonus on Initiative checks and Perception checks. If at least one sabreclaw is aware of combatants, all other allied sabrewings within the range of its telepathy are also aware of them. Transfer Health (Su) As an immediate action, a sabreclaw can lose 5 hit points in order to heal another sabreclaw within range of its telepathy 5 hit points. True Seeing (Su) A sabreclaw can see as if under the effects of a true seeing spell as a supernatural ability.

[2plottwist]

Respite, Despite it All

Summary: After a long day of battling the horrifying creatures of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, you return to the Last Light Inn. Your lover, Astarion, has wonderful plans of pampering you. TL;DR Astarion is a soft gentle cutesy vampire boyfriend that treats you like you're a queen.

Pairing: Astarion x Elf!Reader, referred to with she/her pronouns

Characters: Astarion

Warnings: MDNI 18+, oral sex, fingering

Author: Emma:)

Word Count: 2.1k

Photo Credit: pay. on pinterest

Cradled in between wooden posts and crumbling stone was the Last Light Inn, a rare refuge in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Within the room you had taken for the night, the curse felt even farther away. For starters, there was an actual bed- a luxury within itself. It wasn’t nice, by any means; some of the wood had rotted away, and the sheets scratched against your skin. But it wasn’t a bed roll, which was a huge relief for the aches that shot up your back and to your neck. 

The best part of it all was the wooden tub in the corner of the room. You couldn’t remember the last time you had bathed in an actual tub, or warm water, for that matter. You had to make do with the river Chionthar or another reservoir nestled deep in the woods for months. It had soap, a sponge, and bathing oils. Everything you needed for a perfect night of relaxation. 

After a grueling day of battling shadows and other sinister creatures in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, you finally made your way back to the inn. The weight of exhaustion bore down on you, every muscle aching from the day’s relentless combat. You had left Astarion at the inn, opting to take Halsin with you in order to give him a brief moment of respite. As you push the door open to your shared room, the soft flicker of candlelight greeted you, casting a warm glow over the stone walls. The faint smell of lavender wafted through the room, pushed towards your nostrils by the breeze coming through the open window. 

Astarion was folding a towel before he turned to greet you with a soft smile. “Hello there,” he said quietly. “I trust you had a good day, my sweet, even if I wasn’t there to brighten it?” 

You couldn’t help but smile as he stepped closer, his hands moving to help you out of your armor, each piece clinking softly as it fell away, leaving you exposed. 

“Come now,” he says, guiding you toward the tub. “Let me make up for my absence.” His touch is gentle, his hands firm yet tender as he eases you into the warm embrace of the water, sliding the curtain closed around you.

The water in the tub is deliciously warm, enveloping you in a comforting embrace as you sink deeper, letting the heat ease away the tension in your muscles. The steam rises lazily, curling around the candlelit tub. Soon, the curtain is pulled back, revealing that Astarion has also stripped. He sinks into the water beside you, the sharp angles of his face softened by the flickering light, making him seem almost ethereal. He leans back, the water lapping at his pale skin. His fingers lazily trail through the water before he reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

His touch is gentle, reverent almost, as he tucks the hair behind your pointed ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “You know,” he murmured, “this might be the one part of this cursed place that I actually enjoy.”

You smiled, your eyes half-lidded as you savored the feeling of his touch. “It does have its charms, doesn’t it?” you replied, leaning back against him. “Though I think it’s less about the place and more about the company.” Astarion chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips, closing your eyes and savoring the moment. The warmth of the water, the faint scent of your favorite plant, and the quiet intimacy of being with him make it feel like the rest of the world has fallen away. 

Astarion shifts beside you, turning to face you more fully. He takes the sponge in hand, dipping it into the water before running it over your shoulders with a deliberate gentleness. The warm water cascades down your back. His touch is so tender, so careful, that it sends a shiver down your spine. He notices and smiles, a hint of that playful smirk you’ve come to love evident on his lips. 

“I’ve had centuries to master all sorts of skills,” he says, his voice low and velvety, “but I think I’ve found my favorite- pampering you.”

You sigh contentedly, letting your head fall back against the edge of the tub. He continues his gentle ministrations, the sponge gliding over your skin in slow, deliberate motions. There’s something in the way he touches you, as if he’s savoring every moment, every inch of you. It’s a side of him that he doesn’t show often, a softness that he keeps hidden and reveals just for you. 

Once he’s finished washing you, Astarion helps you out of the tub with the same gentle care. He wraps you in a thick, soft towel. His hands move over you in slow, careful strokes as he dries you off. When you’re dry, he guides you to a nearby stool, his touch light on your arm as he steers you into place. 

He grabs a brush and sits behind you on the bed, his fingers working through your damp hair. “I used to do this for my sister, Dal, centuries ago.” There’s a pause, the memory clearly bittersweet for him. “Of course, her hair was never quite as lovely as yours.”

You smile, leaning back into his touch as he brushes your hair with practiced ease. The bristles glide through your locks, the gentle tug at your scalp almost hypnotic. “How many sisters do you have?” you ask, your voice soft. 

“Three,” he replies. “But know I was only this kind a long time ago.. before Violet started putting garlic in our bunks.”

The braid he weaves is intricate, his fingers moving deftly as he creates a pattern. You can feel the care he’s putting into it, the way he’s making sure each strand is secure. It’s an act of love, one that speaks volumes. When he finishes, he secures the end with a red ribbon before leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“There,” he murmurs against your hair, his breath warm on your scalp. “All done.”

You reach up to touch the braid. You turn on the stool to face him, your heart swelling as you take in the sight of him sitting there, his crimson eyes filled with a warmth that’s still so new and wondrous. 

“I don’t deserve you,” you say, leaning against his knees and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“You deserve so much more,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Before you could respond, he placed a finger under your chin, tilting your head up and capturing your lips in a kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of promises, of a future you both hoped for, despite the uncertainty that surrounded you. 

When you finally broke apart, you found yourself smiling. “You’re right,” you said, your voice light with teasing. “I do deserve more. Like maybe you giving me a massage.” Astarion laughed softly, his breath warm against your skin. “In your dreams, darling.” He stands, offering you his hand. “Now, what do you say we retire to bed? I’m not quite done pampering you yet.” You take his hand, allowing him to lead you to the bed. He lies you down gently before trailing a hand down your exposed torso. He walks to the foot of the bed before climbing over it, carefully placing his knees by your hips. 

He smiles down at you, his naked form towering above you. He strokes your cheek softly, pausing at your mouth and softly dragging your bottom lip down. You place a gentle kiss on the pad of his thumb. 

“I love the way you feel beneath my touch, you know,” he growls softly, placing a knee inside your own, pushing your legs open. He leans in and kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips. You smiled up at him. It made his heart sing.

“Astarion…” you whispered.

“Shh,” he said softly. “Let me take care of you, love.”

You nodded, and his tongue slid across your mouth, and you moaned into the touch. His lips run down your neck, nipping softly at the tender flesh above your collarbone where he drinks from you. He continues kissing down your body, working his way to your breasts. His tongue flicks out, catching your nipple. Your breath catches at the action and you reach out to tangle a hand in his moon-kissed curls to steady yourself. You can feel the warmth pooling in between your legs, and you can only assume he can too as he dips his head, kissing your inner thigh. 

When he finally reached your core, he took his time, licking and nipping at your folds. He licked up and down before gently circling your clit with his tongue. You gasped, arching your back. “A- Astarion…” He chuckled softly, the feeling vibrating against you. “I’ve got you, my love.”

He teased your clit with his tongue, flicking it lightly. You moaned, your hands gripping the sheets. He groaned- he couldn’t help himself. You were so beautiful. He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. 

He paused, slipping a digit inside of you and curling it in swift motions. “Are you enjoying this?” he asked, his voice was husky with need. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” you whimpered. 

“Good,” he murmured. “Now, I want you to close your eyes and relax.”

You allowed your head to fall back against the pillow as he slipped another finger inside of you, pumping them slowly in and out of you. 

His mouth found you again, sucking on your clit harder than before. The combination of his fingers inside you and the sensation of his tongue sent waves of pleasure cascading over you.

“Come for me, my darling,” he murmured, pressing another kiss onto your inner thigh. “I need you to come for me.”

The order was enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm rippling through your body as your spasming walls squeezed his fingers. The sight alone was enough to have him falling into an orgasm right after you. 

After he cleaned up, he joined you under the covers. He pulls you closer, holding you against him. His arms encircle you, strong and protective, his chest rising and falling slowly with the steady rhythm of his breath. He rests his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine with the gentlest of touches. It was reverent, every movement a worship, as if you were a divine being descended into his arms. 

And perhaps, to him, you were. 

There’s a peace in his eyes that you rarely see, a calm that had been elusive for so many years. His voice is soft, barely more than a whisper in the stillness of the night. “You are… everything I prayed for,” he murmurs. “In those dark, endless nights in Cazador’s dungeon, when hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Though I didn’t know you then, I dreamed of you.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of his past and the lightness of the future you’re building together. He tilts your face up to meet his gaze, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how someone like you could care for someone like him.

“But you’re here,” he continues, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And you’re real. Divine, in every way that matters to me.” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another to your lips, lingering as if to reassure himself that this moment is real.

He holds you even tighter, his arms a barrier between you and the world, as if he could protect you from everything just by keeping you close. “I never thought I’d find something—someone—worth praying for again. Yet here you are, proving me wrong in the most wonderful way.”

In his embrace, the horrors of his past seem distant, replaced by the quiet comfort of your presence. As sleep begins to claim you both, he can feel your heart beating against his chest, steady and strong, a reminder that despite everything, despite the pain and the darkness, you’ve found each other. And in this moment, that’s all that matters. 

[poiibbtt]

Bound by Names

Pairing: Haku x Reader (You)

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Subtle Romance

Word Count: ~2,500 words

Synopsis: After Chihiro is freed, you find yourself drifting away from Haku, believing that with his newfound freedom, he no longer needs you. Struggling with loneliness and exhaustion, you distance yourself, despite the bond you once shared. One night, after a rough encounter in the bathhouse, Haku finds you injured and broken, leading to a quiet, heartfelt conversation that forces both of you to confront the feelings left unsaid.

The river was always quiet at night. You had known this place for as long as you could remember, the soft hum of water flowing endlessly, a comforting rhythm beneath the chaos of the spirit world. You and Haku had grown up together, both bound by the strange rules of this place, but you always had each other.

Though Haku had grown distant over the years, especially after he began working under Yubaba, you could still remember those early days, when he would sneak away from the bathhouse just to sit by the river with you. Back then, it was easier. Life was simpler. But things had changed.

You watch him now, hovering by Chihiro’s side. She’s different—human, lost, and frightened. Haku has taken it upon himself to protect her, just as he always protected you, and you can’t fault him for that. But as you stand in the shadows, watching from afar, there’s a heaviness in your chest. It’s not jealousy. It’s the realization that you’ve started to miss him—miss the way things used to be.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss the thought. It’s not fair to compare. Chihiro needs Haku. And besides, he’s always been this way. He has a way of making people feel safe, of being their anchor when the world becomes too much. You know that better than anyone. After all, you’ve been the one to patch him up when his dragon form was injured, when he returned from Yubaba’s dangerous tasks, battered but unbroken.

But lately, you’ve been feeling more alone, and that’s what hurts the most.

The first time you realized something had shifted between you and Haku was after Chihiro called him by his true name.

You were there, hidden in the shadows, when Chihiro gave Haku the gift of remembering who he truly was. You saw the moment it happened—how his eyes widened in shock, how his entire being seemed to glow with the realization of his true identity.

Kohaku River.

The name echoed in your mind, and you felt your stomach drop. It wasn’t just a name—it was his freedom. You knew it before anyone else did. Haku could leave now. He could leave Yubaba’s clutches, leave this world, leave you. And once Chihiro was free, he would have no reason to stay.

The thought festered in your heart, though you never voiced it. Instead, you did what you always did. You stayed in the background, watching as Haku continued to help Chihiro, wondering if he realized what this meant for the both of you.

As the days passed, you found yourself avoiding him. It wasn’t intentional at first. You told yourself you were busy, that the bathhouse and the spirits demanded your attention. But deep down, you knew the truth. You were pulling away because you didn’t want to face what was coming.

If you distanced yourself now, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when he eventually left.

Tonight had been particularly rough. One of the spirits you were tasked with serving was more aggressive than usual, and in the chaos, you found yourself slammed into a pillar, the sharp edge cutting deep into your side. You winced, feeling the warm trickle of blood beneath your clothes, but there was no time to stop. Not when the bathhouse was in full swing. Not when Haku was nowhere to be seen.

You managed to slip away to the riverbank once the night grew quieter, clutching your side as the pain throbbed. The wound wasn’t life-threatening, but the dull ache mixed with the exhaustion and the loneliness in your heart was becoming too much to bear.

Sitting by the river, you stared into the water, trying to steady your breathing. The night was quiet, but the emptiness inside you was louder than ever.

You had hoped to disappear quietly into the night, but fate had other plans.

Haku appeared beside you, his presence as quiet and calm as always. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said softly, kneeling beside you.

You didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the river. “You shouldn’t have,” you replied, voice tight.

Haku’s gaze sharpened, noticing the way you clutched your side. His expression darkened as he knelt closer, pulling your hand away gently. “You’re hurt.”

You tried to pull away, but the pain made it hard. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, turning your face away from him. “You should leave.”

“Let me help you,” he said, his voice low, filled with concern as he carefully peeled back the fabric to inspect the wound. Despite your resistance, he started to patch you up with practiced hands, hands you’d once seen mending his own injuries. But now, they were focused on you.

“No.” You shook your head, your voice breaking, filled with a mix of frustration and sorrow. “Haku, you need to leave. You’re free now. You don’t need to stay here anymore.”

He continued tending to your wound, ignoring your words for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but filled with something deeper. “Is that what you want? For me to leave?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to speak. “You deserve to go,” you whispered. “You deserve to be free, to live without worrying about anyone else… without worrying about me.”

Haku’s hands stilled, and for a long moment, the only sound between you was the river’s soft flow. “You really believe I’d leave you behind?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hurt.

You swallowed hard, not trusting your voice, but nodded slightly. “You should.”

Haku didn’t let go. Instead, he finished tending to your wound before sitting back on his heels, his gaze locked on yours. “There’s something you don’t understand,” he said quietly.

You frowned, the ache in your chest growing as you tried to meet his eyes. “What?”

“Chihiro helped me remember my name, yes,” he began, “but that’s not all I remembered.”

You blinked, confusion spreading across your face. “What do you mean?”

“I remembered more than just my own name,” Haku continued, his voice soft but firm. “I remembered your name too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in confusion. “My… name?”

Haku nodded, his gaze unwavering. “When Chihiro helped me, something else came back. Something I had forgotten until now. I didn’t just regain my freedom. I remembered that I’m bound to you too.”

Your mind was spinning. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I took your name too,” he said softly. “I’ve always been tied to you. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

Tears blurred your vision as you processed his words, the overwhelming realization sinking in. “You… took my name?”

“Yes,” Haku said gently, his hand resting over yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m not leaving you. I never planned to.”

For the first time, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The loneliness that had been suffocating you began to ease, if only a little. Haku wasn’t leaving—not without you.

“I thought…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, the words catching in your throat.

“I know,” Haku whispered, his hand squeezing yours gently. “But you don’t have to push me away. We’re in this together.”

The weight of everything that had happened—the distance, the fear of losing him, the pain of seeing him with Chihiro—began to lift, just a little. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt less alone.

[sammiesalazar]

People from all walks of life came through the doors of Upper Hand and Sammie had seen ranges of emotions that came along with getting a tattoo. Sometimes it was careless and just for fun, other times it was emotional, and then there were the artists with purpose. Seeing the blonde's anxiety in motion — the switching weight from foot to foot, the slight tension she carried in her expression and shoulders, and the unsureness in her speech made Sammie wonder what was making her nervous.

"Well, let's start there, with the ideas you have floating around," Sammie tried to comfort with a smile, leaning forward slightly, "I can sketch up something to match your vision. We can edit and make sure we get it just right as we go along." Which was why she scheduled these consultations. They could spend the time to talk, muse, and put the pieces together without the pressure of others knocking on the door. While Sammie never judged, she appreciated the freedom and liberation of ink on skin, she especially loved the permanent etchings that had meaning.

Again, curiosity tickled, making Sammie wonder why the cute blonde was nervous. "Is this your first tattoo?" That was a good place to start rather than assuming it was a fear of needles. Though, River could've been stressed over getting the wrong tribute stained on her forever. "But yes you're all mine now," she winked.

Once they were in her studio, she'd shut the door behind and offered for River to sit on the tattoo lounge chair in the center of the room. Sammie grabbed a couple of waters from her mini fridge and handed a bottle off to River before she grabbed her sketchbook and sat in her roller chair. "Tequila usually calms," Sammie commented with a little smile as she rolled closer and cracked her water bottle open while her book rested in her lap. "And truthfully I offer coffee because I've had some people fall asleep in the chair." After a small laugh and shake of her head, Sammie set her water aside and flipped open her sketchbook to a blank page. "Tell me about the dedication. Maybe telling me about what it means to you could help with the nerves and jitters a bit."

" ooh, okay, gotcha! " river replied, finally understanding. " in that case, no. no anchor or rose for me. i actually don't really know what i want, " she confessed, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. " i mean, i have scattered ideas floating around, and i definitely want my tattoo to resemble and be dedicated to someone, but i just ... i don't know what imagery would truly capture that. " it was almost too much to think about. the pressure of permanently marking her skin with something so meaningful was daunting. if this appointment didn't have anything to do with honouring her father, she would have politely thanked the artist and fled out the door. the weight of the decision felt immense.

shifting her weight from foot to foot, a nervous habit kicking in, river offered a tight, somewhat strained grin. " ummm ... can my appointment be with you? " she asked, her voice laced with limited hope, but hope nonetheless. despite knowing sammie for just a short time, river felt strangely comfortable with her. there was something in sammie's demeanour, a quiet understanding perhaps, that put river at ease, making her believe that sammie might actually be able to help her navigate this overwhelming process.

river's lips curved into a genuine smile at sammie's confession about the notes app. a small, almost imperceptible nod acknowledged the shared experience, the up-and-down movement betraying a flicker of amusement. a whisper of doubt, however, lingered beneath the surface. was sammie truly as scattered as she claimed, or was this a carefully crafted tactic to soothe river's frayed nerves? regardless of the motive, the effect was undeniable; river felt a sliver of tension ease.

the nod became more emphatic, a decisive affirmation. " i'm good, i'm ready, " she declared, the words carrying a newfound conviction. she fell into step behind sammie, the anxiety that had been clawing at her throat momentarily subdued. " as much as i'd love a coffee — or, let's be honest, a shot of tequila — right now, they might just push me over the edge into full-blown jitters. water is perfect, please. " she added, her voice laced with sincere gratitude for the thoughtful consideration sammie was showing.