Must You Really?

Well, I suppose you've found my blog. My Name is Chiba Tomoe, and you may call me Chiba-san. If you don't, you might find a nasty fate waiting for you. (indie yokai/yakuza rp blog)

[lanturn-left-this-blog-deactiva]

The person I reblogged this from is someone I enjoy seeing on my dashboard.

[kimono-fox]

today has not been a v good birthday so far but im sure it will get better

[kimono-fox]

it didn't get better lmao.......

[kimono-fox]

today has not been a v good birthday so far but im sure it will get better

[kimono-fox]

The sun is low to the horizon and it paints the skies like fire.

It is times like these that Tomoe feels most like he belongs in this world. With the metal buildings and transportation that causes so much waste, it’s easy to yearn for the way the world once was, when he was just born, when he was just learning after a century of a small mind that he was so much more.

People were much the same then as they are now, but at least the air was cleaner then. At least there had been trees. At least he could have walked on dirt for miles in bare feet and not worried about the cut of glass in his heel. At least, at least.

There are days where Tomoe aches for the forests, where his heart cries for the grass whipping under his paws as he runs. He visits, when he can. It isn’t always enough.

There’s a small city over his birthplace. There is a ramen shop built on the spot where his mother’s burrow used to be. He likes to stand there for hours and try to remember how it felt to be so small, in body and spirit.

He goes for the ramen after. It’s not too bad.

It’s easy for him to bury this mourning deep in his chest, for him to ignore it. He is a busy man, surrounded by busy people. But when the sky is burning like his wild spirit, he feels called a little closer to home.

[ilcolosso-blog]

{ —: }

Tomoe tried to make sure his hem remained under the protection of the umbrella; he loved his men, he really did, but he’d prefer not to take them in the rain like this. However, needs must, and the rain really wasn’t enough to dampen his spirits at a time like this; veins buzzing with good liquor, hands fumbling in the shadows, giggles brightening the air between them.

“You worry too much,” Tomoe soothed, drawing him ever closer to the familiar warmth of his shop. “Busy men like us deserve a reprieve occasionally, too.” He pressed another kiss under this man’s jaw, and with well-practiced hands, he unlocked the door behind him and let momentum carry them across the threshold and out of the rain.

Luckily, the shop was mostly empty without him there to facilitate “meetings,” and he drew the man into his wing of the building without hassle. “Why don’t you tell me your name?” he asked, a sly grin curling the ends of his lips. “One busy man to another.”

     This was fine.      Look at them, those two rogues in the dark. Those busy red silhouettes. Sira stood for all the stuff he’d forgotten to be. He personified spontaneity, instinct, and heat. He felt like prattling and driving with his host on an infinite loop. He did not know what to make of it. He did not know his own name. He knew only anonymity, chastely kissing a shadow.      Then he seemed as if he were gathering his bearings for the first time, as if the wave of awareness would topple him over. His hand remained on the escort’s shoulder. The chill of rain caught up to him in a shiver, his hair and clothing affixed to his skin. “Oh, dear,” he went, on and on and on, suddenly older again.        You could only romanticise this encounter from a distance. Their proximity in the downpour had some fateful levity, but here, in the stranger’s lair, hesitation marred Sira’s thrill. Years had rendered such contact unfamiliar. His other hand went for the escort’s arm, not to advance so much as to steady his posture. He locked eyes with the other through his clouded lenses. The wet umbrella made a small puddle at their feet.      He could be anyone, and yet he replied,“Siracusa.” Shaky, yet clinical as ever. ”And you, my saviour this evening? Thank God for your patience.”  

[kimono-fox]

A small, perfectly manicured eyebrow twitched above an amused golden eye. This man was adorable; a little squirrely as if he didn't know what he came here for, and Italian, at that. "Most call me Chiba-san, but you can call me Tomoe," he purred indulgently, drawing his new friend - Siracusa - to sprawl with him on his lounge. "And you..."

There was the slightest glint upon the man's finger on the hand that rested on Tomoe's arm. He gently took it in his own hand, delicate fingers trailing regretfully along a wedding band. Because of course such a cute man would be already married. "And you are already claimed," Tomoe finished, a regretful smile upon his lips. Damn.

He leaned back with a weary sigh, disappointed. Tomoe never got to have any fun these days. But he smiled at his guest anyway and said, "You don't seem the unfaithful type, Mr. Siracusa. Your soul speaks too honestly through your eyes."

He rearranged his kimono, delicate and well-practiced, and asked, "What has really brought you here tonight?" Because everyone comes here for something, whether they know it or not - information, company. Mostly sex. But Tomoe knew he could not turn someone so earnest away.

[ilcolosso-blog]

@kimono-fox​

     There was little distinction between the pavement and the sky. Rain blurred the city into panels of stained glass. Siracusa had one hand grasping at his escort’s shoulder, the other fumbling to pry open an umbrella. Half blind, pleasantly drunk, he fancied this to be somewhat like coming alive again–at the very least before staring down death in the morning.      “Are you certain? I’m not any trouble, am I?” he asked once more.      They were on their way… around. The man led him at a breathless pace, and Sira could not recall how they met, nor how they became–at times literally–tangled up with one another. He only noted the poise of his accomplice, the embodiment of haste and high fashion. Even the wet-doggedness failed to dampen his beauty. Siracusa would question the sense of it later. For now, he charged headlong into the unknown–or rather, he stumbled. And that was quite all right.

[kimono-fox]

Tomoe tried to make sure his hem remained under the protection of the umbrella; he loved his men, he really did, but he'd prefer not to take them in the rain like this. However, needs must, and the rain really wasn't enough to dampen his spirits at a time like this; veins buzzing with good liquor, hands fumbling in the shadows, giggles brightening the air between them.

"You worry too much," Tomoe soothed, drawing him ever closer to the familiar warmth of his shop. "Busy men like us deserve a reprieve occasionally, too." He pressed another kiss under this man's jaw, and with well-practiced hands, he unlocked the door behind him and let momentum carry them across the threshold and out of the rain.

Luckily, the shop was mostly empty without him there to facilitate "meetings," and he drew the man into his wing of the building without hassle. "Why don't you tell me your name?" he asked, a sly grin curling the ends of his lips. "One busy man to another."

[ogabatoru]

     Hideo braved the ambivalence in his gut to at last meet Tomoe’s gaze. The yearning gesture came as such a start, so uncharacteristic of his superior that the oni feared how hotly the fever ran. This must have been delirium and nothing more. Armour wrought anemic by a human guise…      Yet, no matter the state in which Tomoe voiced the request, Hideo felt a small swell of joy that foiled his unease. Tension fled from his limbs. He would answer yes in not a moment’s time, but he kept hush lest glee overtake him–for the kitsune’s sake, he chided himself. He took the hand on his sleeve and squeezed it, nodding and smiling in consolation.      Their silence was tranquil. What rumours which might have set the halls alight like a gossiping spirit were stilled in the after hours. His cheeks were no less red now; the morning after their festivities, their closeness came leaping to his mind, and he sat on the edge of the bed to avoid drawing any nearer. Hideo sought to express grander actions of care, though just how much grander was an issue of admittance and respect. With his back to Tomoe he decided that his position here, without needless fawning, would do for now.      “Is there anything I can get for you?” he finally asked, shying a glance at the other.

[kimono-fox]

The companionable quiet was far less than Tomoe wanted.

He settled back into his bed and rolled over to face Hideo’s back. The question he rumbled out flowed soothingly through Tomoe’s thoughts as he tried to figure out how to get Hideo to lay with him. He was still so lonely and uncomfortable and tired. He rolled gracelessly onto his stomach, ever closer to the oni’s warmth, and shivered as the proximity warmed him in his feverish chill.

Had Hideo asked him something? Tomoe couldn’t remember. But he rolled onto his other side so his back was bared to the unnatural warmth, closer still to where Hideo was perched. In his movement, his bedshirt tangled under his shoulders, and he took a moment to sleepily wrestle it off. His shorts clung to his hips, and he was far too cold to bother removing them.

Tomoe could always just ask Hideo to join him under the covers. He was certain his friend wouldn’t say no, but what if he took it the wrong way? Tomoe flopped onto his back, arm brushing Hideo where he sat. But would it be the wrong idea, if Hideo thought of it? Probably. Tomoe would hate to make his friend so uncomfortable.

He rolled over once more and curled around the mass of warmth on his bed; the tops of his thighs pressed against Hideo’s left leg, bare stomach pressed to Hideo’s back, forehead resting against Hideo’s right hip. His shivering finally ceased, and he let his mind drift with a sigh.

Tomoe was ill. Surely any strange requests could be forgiven. Not that it was strange for Tomoe to want Hideo’s attentions - but perhaps his boldness could be forgiven. How long had Hideo been sitting with him? Five minutes? Ten? Surely he wasn’t asking too quickly.

With another sigh, Tomoe lifted his head to ask his favor - and abruptly realized his postion. Embarrassment flared across his face, stilling his breath in his lungs. “Oh,” he said stupidly. He hadn’t thought he would find himself curled around Hideo like this, a clinging limpet of a fox. How mortifying. “I didn’t - I was-”

If he could have pulled away, he would have. He would have been on the opposite side of the bed in a heartbeat. But Hideo’s warmth…it was simply too much to give up. “Would you lay with me?” he managed to get out, face burning in fever and embarrassment.

[majokkoradio]

Visit Original Link

“Fallen Angel” - Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt - October 1, 2010

[absolutelymadness]

[itscolossal]

New Japanese Floral Hair Ornaments Handcrafted from Resin by Sakae

[ogabatoru]

  { dearest }:

Had Tomoe’s nose not been clogged and his head not quite so heavy, he would have snorted in derision. His loneliness in his illness didn’t matter; this was a matter of pride, of self-respect. No one would take him seriously if they knew he was so weak to be caught unawares by a common illness.

And yet, he said nothing. He had been lonely. Tomoe was a social creature by nature, constantly surrounded by the children and customers and friends. He rested his cheek on his knees and watched tiredly as Hideo picked up his disgusting mess of tissues, sturdy hands unmarred by the angry fire. The tears slid down Tomoe’s nose unchecked, and he wondered why Hideo’s cheeks were flushed. Shame for his superior? Embarrassment for a close friend?

As Hideo offered him a handkerchief, Tomoe decided it had to be something else. Hesitantly, limbs heavy with exhaustion, he reached past the handkerchief to cling to the hem of Hideo’s sleeve. “Please stay,” he murmured, voice watery. “I have not been sleeping well, and I would enjoy your company, should you stay.”

He was probably asking for too much. Why would Hideo want to stay? Tomoe was a mess, sweaty and tired and ill. But really, there was no one’s presence he wanted, no one else Tomoe would have asked this favor, and still his eyes betrayed his nervousness and uncertainty. “Please,” he repeated quietly.

     Hideo braved the ambivalence in his gut to at last meet Tomoe’s gaze. The yearning gesture came as such a start, so uncharacteristic of his superior that the oni feared how hotly the fever ran. This must have been delirium and nothing more. Armour wrought anemic by a human guise…      Yet, no matter the state in which Tomoe voiced the request, Hideo felt a small swell of joy that foiled his unease. Tension fled from his limbs. He would answer yes in not a moment’s time, but he kept hush lest glee overtake him–for the kitsune’s sake, he chided himself. He took the hand on his sleeve and squeezed it, nodding and smiling in consolation.      Their silence was tranquil. What rumours which might have set the halls alight like a gossiping spirit were stilled in the after hours. His cheeks were no less red now; the morning after their festivities, their closeness came leaping to his mind, and he sat on the edge of the bed to avoid drawing any nearer. Hideo sought to express grander actions of care, though just how much grander was an issue of admittance and respect. With his back to Tomoe he decided that his position here, without needless fawning, would do for now.      “Is there anything I can get for you?” he finally asked, shying a glance at the other.

[kimono-fox]

The companionable quiet was far less than Tomoe wanted.

He settled back into his bed and rolled over to face Hideo’s back. The question he rumbled out flowed soothingly through Tomoe’s thoughts as he tried to figure out how to get Hideo to lay with him. He was still so lonely and uncomfortable and tired. He rolled gracelessly onto his stomach, ever closer to the oni’s warmth, and shivered as the proximity warmed him in his feverish chill.

Had Hideo asked him something? Tomoe couldn’t remember. But he rolled onto his other side so his back was bared to the unnatural warmth, closer still to where Hideo was perched. In his movement, his bedshirt tangled under his shoulders, and he took a moment to sleepily wrestle it off. His shorts clung to his hips, and he was far too cold to bother removing them.

Tomoe could always just ask Hideo to join him under the covers. He was certain his friend wouldn’t say no, but what if he took it the wrong way? Tomoe flopped onto his back, arm brushing Hideo where he sat. But would it be the wrong idea, if Hideo thought of it? Probably. Tomoe would hate to make his friend so uncomfortable.

He rolled over once more and curled around the mass of warmth on his bed; the tops of his thighs pressed against Hideo’s left leg, bare stomach pressed to Hideo’s back, forehead resting against Hideo’s right hip. His shivering finally ceased, and he let his mind drift with a sigh.

Tomoe was ill. Surely any strange requests could be forgiven. Not that it was strange for Tomoe to want Hideo’s attentions - but perhaps his boldness could be forgiven. How long had Hideo been sitting with him? Five minutes? Ten? Surely he wasn’t asking too quickly.

With another sigh, Tomoe lifted his head to ask his favor - and abruptly realized his postion. Embarrassment flared across his face, stilling his breath in his lungs. “Oh,” he said stupidly. He hadn’t thought he would find himself curled around Hideo like this, a clinging limpet of a fox. How mortifying. “I didn’t - I was-”

If he could have pulled away, he would have. He would have been on the opposite side of the bed in a heartbeat. But Hideo’s warmth...it was simply too much to give up. “Would you lay with me?” he managed to get out, face burning in fever and embarrassment.

[shimaiya]

深紫に琉球絣縞凛と浮かぶ半幅帯 - アンティーク着物/リサイクル着物のオンラインショップ ■□姉妹屋□■

紫に様々な文様で形作られた縞が優美に浮かぶ化繊の半幅帯です。

[ka-go-me]

           Flame Thrower

[furisode-shoujo]

This spring coordinate owned by Ninben okiya (Gion Kobu) is for senior maiko, and has been worn by Mamahana and Mamesome.

The mild green kimono has both regular and shibori sakura motifs that are pink, purple and a few yellow. Sakura bloom in the end of March to mid April, so it’s perfect to wear then. The obi was also paired with this purple fuji kimono for May.

It’s no secret that the star of this coordinate is the maneki neko obi. Maneki neko have different meanings depending on their color, and the ones on this obi are modeled after the japanese bob-tail breed, meaning they welcome good luck, wealth and prosperity. There are two different maneki neko on the obi. One wearing a bell for protection and inviting customers with its raised left paw. The other with a coin for wealth and inviting money and good business with its raised right paw.

While the obiage Mamehana and Mamesome wore are different, they both had sakura motifs.

(source1)  (source2) (source3) (source4) (source5) (source6)

[miyakobellizzi]

Obon Odori, SF 2014

[gammaslamma]

Send my muse one of the following

[kimono-fox]

“Who did this to you?” “I’m ashamed of you.” “I hate you.” “You disgust me.” “I love you.” “Don’t go, please!” “Just leave already.” “I don’t care about you.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many dogs at once…” “I don’t love you.” “I lied.” “You’re pathetic."  "You need to sleep sometime."  "Come on, just hit me!"  "Leave me alone!” “Don’t touch me.” “I wish I’d never met you.” “You’re adorable.” “Do you have a cuddle buddy yet?” “Mind if I sleep here tonight?” “You’re beautiful.”

[malovelent-deactivated20240829]

Woodland Procession, by Nicole Gustafsson