#hashioki
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Autumn treasures adorable ceramic hashioki (chopsticks rest): ichô (ginkgo leave), kaki (persimmon), donguri (acorn), kuri (chestnut), momiji (maple leave), kabocha (squash/pumpkin)
#japan#craft#tableware#ceramic#hashioki#chopsticks rest#ichou#icho#ginkgo#kaki#persimmon#donguri#acorn#kuri#chestnut#momiji#maple leave#kabocha#squash#pumpkin#autumn in japan
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Ceramic Chopstick rest,chopsticks rack,fish chopstick,brush rest,Calligraphy rest,Chopstick holder,creative stand rack for home restaurant
#home & lifestyle#food#art#chopstick rest#chopstick holder#hashioki#japanese chopstick rest#repose baguette#chopstick rest set#koi chopsticks rest
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Japanese samurai armour and sword shape chopstick rest set
Japanese samurai armour and sword shape chopstick rest set
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_ 久しぶりの通常営業。 本日も暑い中お運びいただき ありがとうございました。 お店では小さくsale 。 online store (BASEアプリ)では明日から 利用できる5%OFFのサマークーポンが配布されています。 ちょっと嬉しいこの機会。 ぜひご利用ください。 ・ 明日21日(水) 明後日22日(木)はお休みします。 どうぞよろしくお願い致します。 ・ #frescoglass #hashioki #箸置き #baseec #corner122 #CORNER #苦楽園 #夙川 (Corner) https://www.instagram.com/p/CRjEwvDsP2F/?utm_medium=tumblr
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Fuji-san #hashioki #chopstiks_rest #posa_bacchette #japanceramics # #japandesign #fujisan #fujisan🗻 #monoarte https://www.instagram.com/p/B5XDbKYK78S/?igshid=1c577tsq3juo8
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先日のグループ展や通販のお買い上げありがとうございました！ バレンタインデー当日の今日はこちらに猫型チョコラテを出品しています。ぜひ！ Posted @withregram • @san.ai.gallery あたたかい…今日もねこ日和🐾 裏千代田 ねこ日和 猫づくし展 猫、100匹以上展示します🐾 日程は、 2021年2月3日(水) ～ 20日(土) ：12:00～18:30（平日・土曜） ：12:00～18:00（日曜） ：12:00～16:00（最終日） 休み：月曜 会場：SAN-AI GALLERY +contemporary art 中央区日本橋馬喰町2-4-1.2F #cat #corect #art #artwork #artist #painting #brooch #event #bag #print #flowers #hashioki #gallery #猫 #ねこ #猫好き #猫のいる暮らし #浅草橋 #馬喰町 #日本橋 #東京 #猫づくし #絵画 #版画 #陶器 #箸置き #湯のみ (SAN-AI GALLERY +contemporary art) https://www.instagram.com/p/CLQXXG0s1bK/?igshid=i7vgdtzanvy
#cat#corect#art#artwork#artist#painting#brooch#event#bag#print#flowers#hashioki#gallery#猫#ねこ#猫好き#猫のいる暮らし#浅草橋#馬喰町#日本橋#東京#猫づくし#絵画#版画#陶器#箸置き#湯のみ
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Easy hack if you don’t happen to own hashioki (chopsticks rest), just slice a wine’s bottle cork in half. It’s french fashion now.
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箸おき #フィルムカメラ #filmcamera #フィルム #film #写真 #photography #モノクロ #mono #レトロ #reto #ノスタルジー #nostalgia #岡山 #okayama #倉敷 #kurashiki #倉敷美観地区 #kurashikibikanchiku #箸置き #hashioki https://www.instagram.com/p/BvwQ3DLjjCs/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=bvdmu42k8w2j
#フィルムカメラ#filmcamera#フィルム#film#写真#photography#モノクロ#mono#レトロ#reto#ノスタルジー#nostalgia#岡山#okayama#倉敷#kurashiki#倉敷美観地区#kurashikibikanchiku#箸置き#hashioki
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Hands up who knows what this is? @shadey.smith's mum introduced us to homemade hashioki! Did you know you can make a chopstick holder out of the paper wrapper that disposable chopsticks come in? I sure didn't. If I hadn't done a bit of origami recently I wouldn't have been able to keep up! Mirai's mum folds like a demon! #hashioki #keeplearning #mums (at Bristol Spirit) https://www.instagram.com/p/BveFmXunQLz/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=278xn8g2qfwe
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Little bird of chopsticks rest, celadon porcelain speckled, the Showa Era of Japan? Or made in China? #箸置 #飛青磁 #chopsticks #chopsticksrest #littlebird #celadonporcelain #porcelain #celadon #hashioki #tobiseiji #japan #china
#chopsticks#porcelain#japan#chopsticksrest#tobiseiji#china#celadon#hashioki#littlebird#箸置#celadonporcelain#飛青磁
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Plss do a Ran haitani fluff where he takes care of reader and just loves her 🥺 Ps. Take care of yourself and drink lots of Water💕
❀ LUV U | TOKYO REVENGERS
🤍 haitani ran
💿 gender neutral, second pov (you/your), fluff, comfort, established relationship, au - canon divergence, imagine
📅 june 28, 2021
🔗 masterlist
haitani ran just loves spending time with his lover.
“Get up, love, you haven’t eaten yet and it’s nearing noon already,” he coos, moving the curtains to let the sun peek in. Despite your groans, he comes over and pulls the blanket off of you with one swift tug.
He sits on your bed, placing a hand on your waist as you bury your head underneath your pillow. “Hey, I know you don’t feel like moving at all, but you can’t stay in bed forever,” he says softly in between your whining and curses. “You haven’t moved since yesterday morning, love.”
Frankly, Ran was worried about you. The fight the day before yesterday did a great amount of emotional trauma on you, especially since you and your friend were dragged into it unwillingly. The very same friend that was gravely injured while shielding you.
Now you were refusing to take care of yourself, drowning deep in your thoughts and regrets and Ran was worried because you didn’t answer your phone.
“Leave me alone, Ran, I just want to be alone,” you bemoan, clumsily trying to push him away with a hand.
Ran sighs, moving off the bed, drawing back the curtains and returning your blanket as he turns on the power fan on his way before leaving the room, closing the door silently behind him. Of course he wasn’t going to leave you alone, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he did that? A shitty one.
Since you had no plans of taking care of yourself or even drinking water and eating good food, Ran will make sure you do it. He’ll be here for you, it’s the least he could do.
An hour later finds him returning back to your room, a tray on hand that held a bowl of morioka reimen. With two slices of apples, some cucumber slices, a boiled egg, a few carefully sliced pieces of beef, and spring onion sprinkled on top, perfect for the hot noon. He places the tray on your desk, turning on the lights and grabbing a brush from your cabinet.
“Y/n, sit up for me please,” he calls out, returning to his earlier position and shaking you awake. Ignoring your grumbling, he pulls you up, pulling you in between his legs as he starts brushing on your hair, knowing that it would irritate you later on. Maybe he’ll wash it for you after you eat something.
He finishes it quickly, even tying some of the longer strands up before pressing a quick kiss on the back of your head. He momentarily leaves you alone, barely lucid, as he fetches the tray, resting it on his legs as he sits back down.
You blink up at him and Ran gives you a little smile, picking up the chopsticks from the hashioki. Lightly stirring, he raises the chopsticks to your lips, grinning. “Come on, say ahhh~”
“Ran, I can-”
You were promptly cut off with him forcing the noodles in your mouth. “Don’t you dare try to avoid eating, Y/n-chan~” He already guessed that the last time you ate was yesterday morning, or if stretched, the night before yesterday. You are going to get sick if you don’t take care of yourself dammit.
Choking, you reach for a glass of water Ran was already passing to you. “You didn’t have any kimchi and I didn’t want to leave so we have to just eat with cucumbers and apples,” he shrugs dismissively as you gulp down the cold liquid. It was only when you started eating and drinking did you realize how hungry and thirsty you were.
Ran was giving you a soft smile when you took the bowl from him and started eating by yourself.
Once you finished with the utensils put inside, Ran was pulling you into your bathroom. “What the- Ran! I can do it by myself!”
He only grinned devilishly, still trying to pull you in with him as you held onto the doorframe. “I can help you wash your hair!”
“Get out!”
He only laughed, letting you push him out as the door slammed shut.
He turns back to the room, stretching and deciding to clean up all the supplies he used and tidy up your room a bit. You’ll probably take a long time there but Ran didn’t quite mind. (Rindou quite did if the amount of times his phone had chimed is any indication.)
The moment you stepped out of the bathroom you were attacked by a towel wrapped to your face as Ran drags you back to your bed. “Ran- I swear-”
“Shh, just let me dry your hair for you.”
You pause, giving him the chance to push you to sit down on the mattress as he takes his place behind you, hairdryer and a comb already on his hand. You let the towel fall from your head, wrapping it around your shoulders as Ran hums in appreciation of your willingness.
His hands were gentle as he slowly combs your hair, turning on the hairdryer to the lowest setting. It was loud but over it you can hear his low humming as he caresses your head softly, you could almost hear his smile in those hums.
Eyelids growing heavy once more by the little actions, little rubs, you lean back to him. An “I love you” being the last thing you heard and the kiss on your forehead the last thing you felt.
(When you woke up the next morning, finally fully refreshed, Ran wasn’t there anymore but his warmth still lingered and the small note placed on your bedside table made it even more so.)
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers x y/n#tokyo revengers scenarios#tokyo revengers imagines#tokyo revengers ran#haitani ran#ran haitani#ran x reader#ran x y/n#haitani ran x reader
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Actually I rather like the clean, unfussy look of your table as a backdrop to your wonderful cooking. But maybe don't leave the chopsticks on the bowl, though! Use the cute hedgehog hashioki instead...
I'm not sure why an anonynous stranger is showing concern for the placement of a stranger's stuff, but I regret to inform you we are usually too lazy to use hashioki when it's just us, I hope you can live with this fact lol.
#me: i've been trying to do things after going through a hard time#stranger: here's my unsolicited take
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Chapter 13
Masterlist
cw: nsfw, timeskip
“Mmm.”
A soft moan of pleasure left Kumi’s lips as she continued to roll her hips slowly, a smile on her face as she leaned forward, letting her palms glide up her partner’s chest. His eyes seemed to glaze over with lust still as he looked upon her breasts, and she giggled.
It truly was nice to be with someone who definitely loved you more than you loved them, she thought fleetingly, then attempted to banish the idea from her own mind.
Perhaps it was an unkind thought. She liked the guy she was currently riding enough; Seiichi was nice to look at with heavy-lidded eyes, shaggy dirty blonde hair and an easy going smile, and he had been attentive and caring to her through these last couple of years as they futzed through medical school together.
At graduation just a couple weeks ago, he’d asked her how she felt about the two of them becoming official and she’d avoided the question, and he’d known better not to bring it up again. Kumi considered that he’d perhaps ask again now, now that she was hovering above him and his hands pressed firmly around her waist and she could feel her stomach coil tighter and tighter the longer they moved together.
He didn’t just like her more, he liked her too much for her comfort, she’d realized.
“Kumi, I-” he began, cheeks flushed, but then she’d cut him off abruptly.
“I’m moving back to Tokyo-” she blurted out, right before she felt herself snap and let out a strangled cry as she climaxed and promptly collapsed onto him. She could barely see his look of distress as he took in this sudden news, his cock softening inside her almost immediately, but she could feel the quickening pace of his heart.
It was an asshole move.
“You’re what?” He asked.
Kumi shifted her legs as he slipped out of her, then rolled over to the side so that she was staring at the ceiling and not at him.
“I’m leaving this weekend,” she repeated, cheeks still warm as she recovered from her orgasm. The pensive, slightly amused look on her face was unchanging, as though she had simply told him about a funny dream she’d had, and Seiichi, who had thought he was making some progress all these years realized all at once that he’d never even cracked the surface of her frozen heart. The idea of him having wasted his time so thoroughly aggravated him suddenly.
“Were you ever going to fucking say anything?” He hissed. “Or did it just hit you spur of the moment to say something like this?”
She turned towards him, noting his now red-faced and angry expression, and placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it softly. There was something akin to pity in her look, but not love.
“I didn’t think it was important,” she replied simply.
She could have left it at that, and Seiichi may have calmed down and even considered bargaining with her - trips back and forth maybe, a vacation here or there, she just had to tell him that she still wanted him, in some capacity, and it would still be alright.
“You are important to me,” he said and attempted to mirror her action, but frowning, Kumi moved backwards and quickly made her way off the bed, redressing herself.
He watched her with anticipation, anxiety choking the words in his throat as she got ready to leave.
After an unnecessarily silent period of time, she turned to him and smiled widely, something unnatural and painful and flat all at once.
“I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”
---
“Why did you decide to become a doctor?”
Kumi hated this question every single time it was asked. The truest answer was when my middle school boyfriend died in a gang fight in front of me, mostly due to self-inflicted injury that could have been preventable if only I had the skills, but it wasn’t exactly the answer that earned her points with anyone. If anything, it only invited more unnecessary questions.
Instead, she offered something generic like, “I’ve always had a passion to take care of others and found that I was interested in the science of the human body and thus pursued my passion in this way.” It was sufficiently true, she figured, even if it wasn’t as exciting a reason.
The interviewer seemed to be impressed enough with the lackluster response, as she expected. Her grades were excellent, after all, so this interview was somewhat of a formality. The only thing that worried her was whether or not she was ready to move back to Tokyo for residency, and decided after very brief contemplation that she was.
It had been so many years since that event had happened, after all. She couldn’t possibly still be hung up on the past.
People died all the time; years of medical school had taught her this. She could prevent some death but not all.
When she’d received the residency position, she was excited as the program was top rated in the country for emergency medicine training, but then recalled that she likely had no one left in Tokyo. Her parents had long since moved to the United States permanently along with her grandmother who had taken her in charge up until she’d started college, and her brother, many years older, lived on the other end of the country. They weren’t close, even if she had wanted to be.
She had no one left. She’d even briefly wondered if she could bring Seiichi with her, and realized it would be too cruel to use him in this way. Seiichi would remain in their city, pursuing specialization in pediatrics, so his goals and her goals wouldn’t be compatible anyway.
Why Tokyo?
Her mother hated even the idea of moving back there, and she’d had to reassure her repeatedly that more than ten years had passed, so there was no way she’d return to that dark place she’d been in the latter fourteenth and entire fifteenth year of her life.
“Are you sure?” Her mother pressed.
“Yes, mom,” she reassured her. “I won’t even be living on the same side of the city.”
And I’m past it, she thought.
With that, she moved to a small apartment in Tokyo alone on a Saturday morning and started her first day of work as a newly minted doctor that very Monday.
The first day was busy and the emergency department was as busy and as hectic as she should have expected being in a major city, but she survived after putting in her hours, clocking out sometime between 13 to 15 hours after the beginning of her shift, exhausted and with no one to go home to. As she sat on the train, trying not to let her tired eyes glaze over, she downloaded a dating app, swiped left and right on a couple of strange faces then sighed loudly.
It was a dumb idea to meet men if she was going to have no one to call in case of an emergency.
Kumi made it to her new home, hopping into the shower, and changing into soft shorts and a pajama shirt immediately before preparing some instant noodles for dinner. She made a mental note to buy some real groceries sometime this weekend. She then quickly texted a message to her parents to tell them her first day had gone well.
She would be fine.
As she ate her meal in silence, her mind flitted to Kaksi for a moment. She wondered how she was doing. Should she contact her? They hadn’t spoken in over a decade. Did she miss her? Was she even still in this city?
She finished her meal and shook off the thought of digging up past relationships. She wouldn’t want to burrow too deeply and be hurt by what she found.
---
Kaksi rested the ends of her chopsticks on the dark blue and white hashioki in front of her. Then her brown eyes wandered outside, enjoying Tokyo’s skyline through the large glass windows of the private room she shared with her friend. Blue eyes studied her features quietly, while slender fingers brought the white chopsticks to rosy lips.
“Did you not like the food?”
“Oh, I did,” Kaksi replied in a soft voice. “I’m just not very hungry.”
Senju didn’t say anything for a moment. By now she had memorised all of Kaksi’s habits, which made it usually easy for her to pick up on her emotions and thoughts.
“Are you nervous?” she asked before taking a sip of her drink.
Kaksi smiled.
“I guess I am.”
Was this moment shared together their goodbye? As much as Senju preferred not to dwell on the future, she couldn’t ignore the inevitable change that Kazutora’s return would bring into her life. She had made a mistake, growing too comfortable treating Kaksi like she was hers when she was someone else’s all along.
Senju had never met Manjiro Sano despite the similar lifestyle they shared but back when Kaksi would still talk about him, she compared them a lot. Brahman’s leader used to believe she was nothing like him, the idea of ever leaving Kaksi behind unthinkable to her but now she wondered if the reason behind their fall out wasn’t just Mikey trying to spare his own feelings, something Senju failed to do by falling for her best friend.
She had been foolish to think Kaksi would fail to keep her promise. While they had shared more kisses that they could both count and uncovered the secrets to each other’s body in between almost forbidden confessions, Senju still wasn’t the one Kaksi wished to have by her side, or maybe she did. It had felt like she did so many times and it still felt that way as they walked out of the expensive restaurant too close to each other.
Kaksi’s hands were always so cold but Senju liked to warm them up. Tonight however the brunette wouldn’t let her like she had been doing for the past months. Senju was being selfish again, she knew. Kaksi couldn’t say no, not to her, not when she would give her those pleading blue eyes or slide her hand around her waist.
“Sen,” she said, irritated and distancing herself from her best friend.
But this time she had to say no.
“I don’t think I can do it, Kaksi.”
Kazutora would be out of jail in a few days and Kaksi had already planned out a future for them, one that she had desired ever since they had promised to never leave each other’s side back when they were children. It was unfair that she couldn’t preserve what she had built for the past years but if it wasn’t her then who would watch out for Kazutora? There was an obligation Kaksi felt to him, one that she felt like she could never get rid of but this was also what she wanted.
“I don’t think he would be happy in Tokyo,” she told her.
Senju rolled her eyes at her answer. Why was it that Kaksi always had to make her life revolve around him?
“Aren’t you happy in Tokyo?” she asked, voice louder as her irritation grew.
“I need a change of air.”
“Do you need a change of air or do you think Kazutora needs one?” Senju replied. “Because those are two very different things.”
“I think we do.”
Senju stayed quiet for a moment. She wondered if Kaksi could see that what she felt was beyond jealousy. If Kaksi didn’t want to stay by her side that was fine by her, as painful as it was but she wished her best friend would choose herself instead of someone else sometimes.
“You know, you can’t make decisions for others, Kaksi,” Senju reminded her. “You can only make decisions for yourself.”
Kaksi chuckled but it was irritation that she felt.
“This is not how I want things to end between us before I leave for Osaka,” Kaksi told her.
Then you could just stay, at least.
“I don’t think there is any other way for it to end,” Senju admitted, her blue eyes not hiding a sadness she had been containing for too long.
Kaksi fell silent, not sure about what she could say if this was really how they were meant to say goodbye to each other. Senju took a deep breath.
“I hope Kazutora and you enjoy Osaka,” she said with a genuine smile, contrasting with the disappointment and sadness she felt moments before.
But she meant those words. Maybe she was the one who didn’t get it, maybe this was what Kazutora desired and maybe this was something only Kaksi could offer and wanted to offer. There was nothing rational about feelings after all but even after experiencing all of those emotions, Senju couldn’t help thinking only a bit of madness could explain Kaksi’s behaviour sometimes.
If she did get it though. Then there was only one thing she needed Kaksi to remember even though she was choosing Kazutora right now and had planned to always do so.
“But if you don’t then come back to me in Tokyo.”
Kaksi’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of Senju’s smile. She couldn’t smile back but she nodded as she watched her walk away, in a direction she wouldn’t follow this time.
---
“You said you grew up in the city, right?” The girl situated beside Kumi asked, turning slightly in the booth of the bar. The man sitting directly across from her, who from the beginning of the gaokon had seemed to have set his sights on her, perked his ears up.
“I thought you were foreign!” he asked, and she flashed her most charming smile in response despite mild irritation, accepting a drink from her coworker as she spoke.
“Nope, I’ve been here since early childhood. Briefly moved just outside Kyoto in my teen years, but I guess technically Tokyo is my home,” she explained.
The young man before her nodded, leaning just close enough that she began to grow uncomfortable. She couldn’t tell if the man’s interest was related to an expectation that she’d put out more readily than the other women on this date, and just because of that, she was determined not to spend the night with him. Instead, she focused her attention on the girl behind her who was also desperately trying to avoid eye contact with another guy who had latched onto her.
This group blind date was a bust.
Kumi didn’t feel too bad about it, however. She would appreciate anything that allowed her not to think about work. An adolescent boy had come in earlier in the day with a stab wound, and despite the fact that this was not the first time she’d seen injured children or the sequela of gang violence, perhaps the fact that she was back in this city made it such that the event had unearthed some trauma. She found that her hands shook as she stabilized the teen and for a moment, she thought she had even seen a flash of Baji in that young boy and temporarily forgot how to breathe.
That couldn’t happen again.
She should be over it. She had to be.
“Would you like to meet again?” The man whose name she’d long since forgotten - Tadashi? Satoshi? - asked her at the close of the evening, when she’d made it sufficiently clear that she was just interested in going home.
She should have said no, but instead she politely exchanged phone numbers with him, fully intending to block him in three to five days.
But who knew when she’d be lonely again?
---
A week later, Kumi could get over the haunting visage of the young boy who looked everything and nothing like Baji, but she couldn’t get over the sudden talk of gang activity on the news she let play in the background while she reviewed medical publications.
A horrific truck accident, involving a young woman about her age, had taken the news by storm. Listening closer, she heard a name that sounded familiar but not recognizable.
Hinata Tachibana.
It felt like a name she should remember, but she figured they might have interacted before she had relocated for high school, and most of the things and people from before then were essentially blocked out of her memory.
But not the name Toman.
Kumi perked up, sipping onto her tea and folding her legs beneath her as she sat on the couch, finally setting her paper aside, now that the television had caught her interest. There were no real suspects, but the death was thought to be related to this group, as were a series of other random execution-like killings. Kumi took a look at the still image of the young woman’s face, eyes wide, noting that she definitely looked familiar to her, like she’d seen her at least once or twice a long time ago. She couldn’t imagine her having done anything wrong or any act that would anger someone enough to order her death.
Toman doesn’t kill. Toman doesn’t do real crime, she thought.
But times had changed, and maybe they did do real crime now. She wondered briefly if Mitsuya was still part of Toman. What had become of Mikey and Draken, and the rest?
Did Kaksi know what Toman had become over the years?
Kumi unconsciously reached for her phone beside her to call, then caught herself. She hesitated for a moment, letting the sudden wash of anxiety run through her, then shut off the television instead and returned to her reading.
Let sleeping dogs lie, she thought, and she spent the rest of her night, minding her own business, minding her future.
---
She wouldn’t have broken if not for her dream that night.
“Bambi, you don’t ever stop crying, do you?”
Kumi’s eyes jolted open at the sound of that voice, the mischievous laugh she remembered from her childhood, even if it was richer, an evolved version. It couldn’t be, could it?
But she was no longer in her room. Instead, she was somewhere warm and blindingly bright, where her eyes could barely adjust, and her body felt… lighter?
She rose to a sitting position, shielding her watering eyes from the light, only to be startled by a warm hand taking hers, interlacing their fingers.
“Kumi-chan, look.”
Her eyes opened again, and this time, rather than light unfocusing her, there was a man before her, with a face that was foreign yet oh-so-familiar, crouched down on one knee and still holding her hand gently.
Fangs grinned back at her, and she gasped.
“K-Kei..?”
Her voice came out no more than a squeak and suddenly in her heart she was fourteen again, and her lip started to quiver as she repeated his name again.
What did this mean? To be looking at him again, a him that was no longer dead just days before he turned fifteen, whose dark, wavy locks were even longer and whose face had aged just as much as hers, but with the same fox-like brown eyes that she’d fallen in love with a decade ago as part of a sharper angled, handsome face?
She repeated his name yet again, heart thumping and tears welling up in her eyes, and he cupped her face in her hands, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears.
He frowned.
“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said, a pensive look on his face. He sighed, and Kumi felt his lips press onto her forehead. Warm, soft lips that felt every bit as real as she did, and it only made her hurt more.
She was hallucinating. All of this was impossible, whatever this was.
So why did it feel so real?
“I miss you so much,” she choked out.
A decade had passed, and here she was. Conjuring up an image of Baji as he could have been if he had lived, something that may not be real. She wasn’t even sure he’d look like this - might he have cut his hair, or gotten his teeth fixed? How did she know what his voice would settle to be like in adulthood, and if this soothing baritone in her ears was anything close? How did she know he would grow to this height he now stood at, towering over her once he’d pulled her to her feet and pressed her head against his chest? How did she know what his arms would feel like wrapped around her? Would she actually have felt this safe and warm?
Would he have still cared for her, had he lived?
“I miss you too.”
She sobbed harder.
“How can you miss me when you’re dead?”
He paused, and let a hand stroke through her hair.
“Pretend.”
Almost shocked, she pulled back and looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He smiled sadly at her and shrugged.
“Pretend I’m still here with you. I’ll stay with you till morning comes,” he promised. "I can promise you at least this much.”
There’s a point where it’s easier to live in the delusion, and it was at this point, where Baji leaned in to kiss her, then embrace her in a way they never could in life. They drank deeply of each other throughout the night, connecting with each other physically and emotionally, and the young woman hoped that the cursed morning would never come, where she’d have to give up on this dream or vision or delusion or whatever the fuck it was, and return to reality.
But alas the dead cannot commune with the living forever.
Kumi woke up in a cold bed where Baji was no longer inside her or beside her or with her, and there was nothing that remained but messy bed sheets, dampness between her legs and unrelenting, fresh pain in her heart.
She brought her knees to her chest, and felt new anguish for the first time in years. Birds chirped outside her window to welcome the dawn and light seeped through her window, and on this cool Saturday morning, she had regressed to the same child curled up in blankets, encountering heartbreak for the first time.
Why?
Why couldn’t she get past this?
Her father had said it first. It’s just a boy.
And here she was, a grown woman, who no longer could love, hanging on desperately to a ghost.
Kumi’s phone alarm went off suddenly - she’d forgotten to turn it off - and she reached for her phone, her whole body shaking like a leaf. She was pathetic, despite the fact that she so desperately wanted to be strong.
And thus, the moment she quieted the alarm, she dialed the only person who could understand the pain she felt. Even if it was selfish. Even if it had been a decade.
She didn’t expect her to pick up, but she did.
“Kumi?”
The familiar sound of Kaksi’s voice made her want to weep in a different way. Relief rushing over a wave.
She sucked air into her lungs and smiled, warm, thankful tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Kaksi, I missed you so much.”
#baji x oc#kazutora x oc#tokyorev#off target effects#collab fic#mae.writing#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers imagine#tokyo revengers#longfic
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IN THE DRINK
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans
My first legal drink was a vodka martini. Because I was naïve and impressionable, and those impressions were formed, of course, by James Bond - the most famous mixed drinker in the world, who made the vodka martini the most glamorous, if not the most famous, mixed drink: legendarily shaken, not stirred, with a twist. I had my first drinks prior to Bond’s heavily merchandised resurgence, so that he, his wardrobe, his drinks and their accoutrements were all at the time distinctly retro if not uncool. It was the age of Slacker. Rituals involving martini shakers seemed like unfamiliar anachronisms. In that way, perhaps they appealed the more for being so exotic.
Over the years, my tastes have matured. I prefer gin, not vodka, in my martinis; I find Bond fun, not cool, and can laugh at myself in recognizing how he influenced so much of what many of us middle-class kids originally thought was sophisticated or elegant. I still think he was right about the twist, even if I’m more likely to make it out of a lime rather than a lemon peel. I like olives, but not in my drinks. And until recently, I kept shaking my martinis despite knowing that purists say it “bruises” the gin. That is, shaking a drink made with clear or translucent liquids can make it cloudy (and supposedly dilute it with ice fragments crushed during shaking).
It took the ineffable #menswear godhead @voxsartoria, my sartorial #schreibro, to help bring me around. As always, I also needed to get my hands on a sufficiently interesting tool to stop being one. I found it in the shape of a sterling silver-bamboo-handled cocktail spoon, a midcentury design by Van Day Truex for an American jeweler. My 1949 Esquire Handbook for Hosts reminds me to use it for drinks made entirely with spirits; those made with fruit juices, nonalcoholic mixers, or cloudy liquids can still be shaken (since the result would be opaque anyway). You’re supposed to use ice cubes in stirred drinks, crushed ice in shaken ones, but I tend to ignore that rule. And indeed, my stirred martinis do taste better – crisper and rather stronger, for better or worse, since less ice gets dissolved stirring instead of shaking. (Yes Isle, you have a standing invite. Ed. note - Invite accepted) I’ve read that stirred drinks are supposed to be colder than shaken ones, but surely that must depend on how long you stir before pouring.
The bamboo got me. I’m a sucker for those odd organic shapes like coral or bamboo, even when rendered in metal instead of the real whangee of John Steed’s umbrella. The piece was part of a broader collection. But today we’re a long way from midcentury, a long way from a world in which we could claim to have a lifestyle requiring, or affording, all the patterned utensils of a collection, from cocktail to demitasse. Instead, at best most of us can only hope to salvage what we need from history’s subduction. So many wonderful, glorious things eventually get pulled under never to reappear again. At least with this spoon, stirring seems less prosaic. And it’s long enough, if not to sup with the devil, then to drink with mine.
Between the shaker and the stirrer, and with a well-enough stocked bar, you can be prepared to mix just about any drink imaginable, as rattled off by Christopher Lee in one of cinema’s great moments, his musical number “Name Your Poison” in The Return of Captain Invincible. More often than not, mine is still the martini, here on a coaster with three-dimensional images based on Kota Ozawa’s LYAM 3D, an art installation with clips from Last Year at Marienbad. The spoon rests on bamboo hashioki finished with urushi lacquer. Deflating all pretension, however, the martini glass is an Iittala knockoff I got free with a bottle of vodka. We can’t escape ourselves, after all.
Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This article first appeared on the No Man blog in 2016.
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