#rev response

[muffins-rewritten]

quiverfull anon—in this story, i mean. maud, twinkie, marble, limestone, pinkie, and even octavio and/or pizza pie (<- hasbro facebook aprils fools chara) are going to maybe exist. thats a lot of foals goddamn…

First part to this ask:

I didn’t actually know it had a name, but yes, that’s what I was thinking of going for!

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

You know that old "if someone jumped off a cliff, would you do it too!?" telling off? I genuinely believe that wouldn't work on Chifuyu. If his mother went "if Baji jumped off a cliff, would you do it too!?" Chifuyu would very seriously nod in response. He's 100% following Baji anywhere.

[etirabys]

i'm relieved that my spouse loves giving lectures on how things work, because I'm bring a sort of "it's not my job to educate you" vibe to raising small children that my coparents don't really like

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Shinichiro wished for Mikey to become greater than him. He was convinced it would happen.

But, life had another plan in mind. That's just how it is. Still, Shinichiro's life has all been about his brother. With his father's death and his mother in the hospital, with being the person responsible of her, the one the hospital kept updated, he did every he did with Mikey in the back of his head.

Everything for Mikey. And Mikey would become greater than him, because it's his brother and that's just how it's supposed to be

Hence, when the chance of that happening came back: when Mikey comes back to life, what's taken from him is this. Mikey ends up the same way Shinichiro does without Mikey around.

Shinichiro wanted Mikey to be greater than him — Mikey ends up how Shinichiro was supposed to, had Mikey not been here.

And I know we talk about 'Mikey's curse' but it's Shinichiro's

Shinichiro is the one who killed. Shinichiro is the one who got cursed. Shinichiro is the one who messed up with karma and time. It's Shinichiro's curse because the most efficient way to curse him is to fuck up Mikey's life.

He wanted to save his brother's life and he ended up making it bad (euphemism). He's the reason why.

[shivunin]

👀👀👀 ship prompts you say???

Could I ask for the lovers, the devil or the moon for Wen and Rev? Pleeeeease?

Well, only if it's you asking <3

For "the devil (unrequited love)," in which Revka hems Arianwen's wedding dress:

Forget Me Not

(F!Warden x F!Warden | 1,114 Words | No Warnings)

"Tomorrow we meet the same then, dearest? May I take your hand in mine? Mere friends are we, – well, friends the merest Keep much that I resign:" -Robert Browning, "The Lost Mistress"

It had been a fine enough wedding gown by Cyrion’s estimation, for all that it was an inch and a half too short. 

It was a far sight nicer than the ones Arianwen had seen mothers and brothers and grandmothers working on through other windows in the alienage. None of the embroidery was very detailed, but it was just fine for a dress she didn’t want to wear. A dress she wouldn’t wear, if she had the choice. 

She hadn’t had choices for a very long time. 

“Ah!” Revka said at her feet. 

Wen held very still in response when she otherwise might have flinched. 

“Alright?” she asked. Revka peered down at her fingertip, where a bead of red blood bloomed. 

“Fine,” she muttered. 

For her part, Wen’s dearest friend seemed as enthused about the wedding as Wen was. It was difficult to see why. It wasn’t as if anything would really change afterward. Nothing ever changed here, and it never would. They both knew that. 

“You don’t have to—” Wen began for the hundredth time, but Revka cut her off.

“Course I do,” she muttered. “Think I won’t help fix this mess?”

Below, the soft snap of breaking thread. Revka popped her finger into her mouth and unrolled the hem of the dress with her other hand. 

“Let you go ‘fore everyone with your ankles bare?” she went on several moments later. “Won’t do it. Turn.” 

Wen turned carefully on the chair, slowing when it wobbled. Revka sniffled. 

“Is your finger alright?” Wen asked. 

“Quit moving,” Revka snapped. Her voice sounded thick. Wen, who’d half-turned to look at her, faced forward again. 

“Finger’s fine.”

“Alright,” Wen said. Her fingers curled in on themselves, but loosened before they could make a fist.

“Can fix it,” Revka said, and sniffled again. Her fingertips brushed against Wen’s ankle, warm and then gone. “I can.” 

“Alright,” Wen said. She wanted to climb off the chair and take off the stupid dress and go back to their little hiding place. She wanted to have never heard of this dreadful arranged marriage. She wanted to fix whatever hurt had been done to Revka. 

But—Wen knew—she’d always been better at breaking things than she’d ever been at fixing them. That task had always fallen to Rev.

Instead of doing any of the things she’d rather do, she stood very still with her hands loose at her sides and pretended she didn’t notice the tears her friend refused to cry. 

|

In the lamplight hours later, Revka bent over pale cream fabric and felt the ache in her wounded finger every time she passed the needle through the thick, fine cloth. 

Sewing was her trade. These days, it as mostly fine embroidery—she’d shown her talent for it enough that the simpler work was usually handed off to others. Her own clothes bore little signs of this: forget-me-nots (always forget-me-nots, bright blue as the sky and twice as kind) obscuring tears and holes in the worn fabric, thin lines of whatever color she’d had on hand joining worn sections of her socks. 

If she checked Arianwen’s tunic (Arianwen slept on the bed behind her, where she’d dozed off halfway through a sentence; Revka couldn’t bear to look at her now and certainly wouldn’t be checking her tunic anytime soon), she would have found her own handiwork there, too. Wen favored thistles. Always had, sharp girl with her sharp teeth and her bloody knuckles. It had never surprised Revka that she liked a sharp flower, too. A wounding thing, however pretty it was, that pricked you back for picking it.

There was a little row of silk thistles embroidered around the collar of the tunic Wen wore now. Revka had put them there last winter as a Satinalia gift. It had taken weeks of bending over the cloth just like she was now, stealing hours after she left the tailor’s shop and before she was forced to bed or fell asleep on her work. Every morning, she’d woken with sore fingertips and a proud thrill in her chest whenever she’d looked at them. 

Wen would never know, she supposed (would never know now, surely; would be marrying someone else within the week), but she’d set every stitch into the fabric with her whole heart in her fingertips. She’d long since been forced to admit that what she felt had grown into something far wilder and messier than simple, unburdened friendship. It had burst through its bounds and grown into something that stung and hurt her when she stretched her hands for it. 

Like thistle, she thought, and made another stitch into the hem of the wedding gown. Her forefinger still ached. There was a little red dot where she’d stabbed it before. A visible wound, that, but the rest of the mess was as hidden as she could make it. The room was already beginning to lighten with dawn. Red-rimmed eyes could be called tiredness, could be from working late over a candle.  Surely even Arianwen would think so, and nobody knew her better in the world. 

It was almost done now. Hemming the gown had been easy as anything, but the embroidery had taken far longer. Only a half hour more and it would be—would be finished. 

Revka paused then, stretching her aching hands. A neat line of thistle wove in and out of itself along the hem, hiding the faint line where the old hem had been. It was pretty. Wen would like it, probably. She wouldn’t climb the dais to her wedding in an unadorned gown. If she’d been able to bring herself to stop there, Revka could have been proud of the work. 

The front hem of the dress was not facing her now. She’d been done with that for hours, actually. She ran an aching fingertip over the line of embroidery she held instead, tracing the flower petal by petal. 

There was a line of thistle carefully embroidered on the hem of Arianwen’s wedding gown. Below, inside the fabric where it would brush against Wen’s ankles, was a mirrored line of flowers. If they’d been lined up on the same face of the fabric, the flowers would have twined around each other without end. Instead, forget-me-nots made lonely loops on the inside of the hem. 

A droplet fell to the fabric, darkening the blue. Revka sniffled, dashed the tears away with the back of her hand, and turned the fabric in her hands once more. 

Almost done. Three flowers more, maybe four. And then—and then it would be finished. 

She lifted her needle to the candlelight, blinked until she could see clearly again, and turned back to her task.

[kozuwhore]

it's so weird to look through tokyo revengers smut and see baji content. i know he's alive and an adult in the manga ,, but a majority of his smut was written when he died and had no canon timeskip

[chodzacaparodia]

Do you often feel that way when you watch or read something where the teenagers have big problems and you think, ''Why don't you tell your parents, any adult, anyone who can help you? Why do you have to keep everything a secret?", so that these characters still have that attitude of "It's my business. I'll take care of it myself, I don't need help" and then the problems evolve and get bigger?

Fortunately, Chifuyu broke it a bit.

Mikey is not an adult, but he is kind of the "father" of Toman. 

He should know about these things so he can help solve these problems. How much harm could have been avoided if he had known everything from the beginning?

Baji had already made the mistake of wanting to do everything himself and not saying anything about his plan. The price was high and others should learn that some problems should not be solved alone and there are people who should have insight into the situation. And that person should be the head of the gang, possibly the vice-leader.

Chifuyu is genuinely surprised that Kisaki didn't think he wouldn't tell the truth about his betrayal. 

But the actually surprising thing (which is sad because it should have been obvious) is that Chifuyu actually told Mikey everything. Bad guys often go unpunished because they know their victim won't say anything.

And unfortunately, that has become the norm. 

Kisaki was sure that he would get away with everything and was surprised at Mikey's punishment.

Even Takemichi was surprised that Mikey knew about Kisaki's betrayal. He was so used to keeping everything a secret that he didn't think it necessary to tell Mikey the truth. It didn't even cross his mind that Kisaki might actually be punished.

It's a shame so many characters have such a hurtful mentality. That's why I really appreciate Chifuyu's straightforwardness. It's a moment of honesty in the ongoing secrets of the Tokyo Revengers universe. 

And this moment is my little treasure.

[blackrevell]

Huge respect to Cyberpunk modders, bc I'm only starting to get the taste of it now and it is spectacular how much of it is not sculpting or texturing or probs even rigging, but trying to navigate WolvenKit with its every plugin, trying to get the hang of 100 and 1 file extensions, array items seem like disco inferno, WK might randomly get depressed and crash and who knows what else is there further ahead

[muffins-rewritten]

iss there a reason obsisian/minkie was cut out?

Minkie is technically counted as an OC of the original author, and I don’t feel comfortable using the same name/design, which is why I created Twinkie.

[wheredreamsareforged]

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what’s your timezone?

did you have any snacks today?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what was the last message you sent?

╰┈➤ ❝ [ weirder asks ] ╰┈➤ ❝ [ more ask games here ] ╰┈➤ ❝ [ this specific one here ]

: ̗̀➛ 'who is/are your comfort character(s)?' ↳ blue from pokemon, tartaglia, zhongli, the wanderer, kaeya, and diluc from genshin impact, bakugou from my hero academia, and gepard from honkai star rail

: ̗̀➛ 'what color are your eyes?' ↳ my eyes are weird. they're a blue/grey, with like one or two gold/yellow streaks that i think may have gone away by now?? at least that is the default lmao. my eyes have central heterochromia! the outside of my eyes is that blue, but the center is a really cool and light green that blends in! giving that grey look. they also just straight up change color. last night my left eye was straight up BLUE, while my right was straight up GREEN

: ̗̀➛ 'why did you do that?' ↳ it was funny. and you know what? i'd fucking do it again HAHA

: ̗̀➛ 'how many water bottles are in your room right now?' ↳ one! i've not drank water in a bit because i need proper caffeine due to work, but i've drank a lot more these past few months since moving

: ̗̀➛ 'what kind of day is it?' ↳ lay in bed and feel sad for no reason day (classic mood stuff l o l)

: ̗̀➛ 'when was the last time you ate?' ↳ 4:40 or something, just before i got off work

: ̗̀➛ 'are you farsighted or nearsighted?' ↳ neither!

: ̗̀➛ 'something you’ve kept since childhood?' ↳ most of my plushies- they're somewhere- and my first ever DS; the DS Lite. i still have the stooge and they work perfectly. got them for my 4th or 5th birthday; i still have the first game ive played on it too. the Ni Hao, Kai-Lan one

: ̗̀➛ 'what’s your timezone?' ↳ EST (GMT -5 iirc)

: ̗̀➛ 'did you have any snacks today?' ↳ a hashbrown w ketchup for breakfast, and chicken nuggets!

: ̗̀➛ 'an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?' ↳ discord, tiktok, and c.ai

: ̗̀➛ 'what was the last message you sent?' ↳ both were to my partners, and both were personal so instead here is the last funny moment i have; the people you see are @wdws-angels, @gutzjunkie

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Appreciation post for Chifuyu's 12 skips, someone pls appreciate his 12 skips. Look how excited he is about it! His grin and little point, he's so hyped a out this, and it's so cute to see!

[hauntingblue]

Why do they say dragon is luffy's father but doesn't look much like him... I mean it is true but why point it out... in that way he doesn't look like garp either

[sovereignzofdarkness]

can you people stop putting your vagueposts in the main tag and just learn to block people you find annoying

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Wakasa: I think you're still suffering the effects of your party last night. Shinichiro: All I drank was Redbull! Wakasa: How many? Shinichiro: Eighteen.

[shivunin]

HUGS YOU SAY??

How about "cuddle pile" and/or "clinging to each other" for our trio?? 👀

Hey, Lilou c: Here is "cuddle pile" for our three!

(Hug Prompts)

Douse the Light

(Arianwen/Revka/Zevran | 649 Words | No warnings)

It had grown late in what felt like the blink of an eye. The sun had long since taken its leave, the moon shone faintly through the high windows of their bedroom in Vigil’s Keep, and yet the Warden-Commander was still hunched over a desk peering at her last-minute missives. 

Arianwen, lying on the bed with her hair unbound, yawned. Zevran sighed against her shoulder and squeezed her waist reflexively. They should’ve all been asleep hours ago, in truth, but…

“Come to bed,” Wen murmured. “Rev. It can wait.” 

“Can’t,” her lover said from the desk, leaning forward and scribbling faster. “Varrel said—”

Wen groaned. Zevran stirred and she passed a hand over his back to show him that all was well. He had a way of half-sleeping when one of them was still up, dozing without entirely dropping off, and she knew that if she ducked her head she would see a narrow sliver of gold eyes. He needed to sleep. They all needed to sleep. It’d been a long enough day already.

“I am going to throw your lamp out the window,” she informed Revka, her tone even. “And Varrel can go out and pick up the pieces in the morning.” 

Revka sat back in her chair, glaring at Wen. Wen stared back, raising a brow. For a moment, they watched each other, caught in a clear impasse.

At last, Zevran stirred and lifted his head, turning to look at the desk. 

“It is late,” he said, lifting a hand toward Revka. His voice was scratchy with sleep, his hair mussed. Wen adored him, and kissed his cheek to show it. “You know how foul-tempered our Wen is when she is tired. Do you want to coax her through drills in the morning?” 

“Rude,” Wen said, and kissed his cheek. She lifted a hand, too, and Revka’s expression wavered. “But correct. You’ve been outvoted. Time to sleep, love.” 

Revka’s stayed frozen at the desk for a moment, quill still in hand, but after a moment she rose and grimaced. Wen could hear her joints creak from the bed. Rev had been sitting there for hours now, through Wen sharpening her blades for the night, through the light conversation she’d made with Zevran while they got ready to sleep, and for half an hour past that, while the two of them had dozed in bed.

“Can—can get up early’n—” Revka began, looking back at the desk, but Wen shook her head. 

“I will lay on you. I mean it. We’ll split it up after breakfast and damn the consequences. The nobility can’t tell our handwriting apart anyway.” 

They couldn’t. It made forging important documents on Revka’s behalf very easy, which was a boon to all of them. Perks of learning to write in more or less the same place, she supposed. 

Revka shrugged off her green velvet dressing gown, which Wen had chosen for her especially in Amaranthine for her last birthday, and laid it over the trunk at the foot of the bed. The bed dipped on Wen’s side after the lamp was doused. Obligingly, she lifted the blankets for Revka to slide under, and Rev leaned over her to kiss Zevran before settling in against Wen’s body. 

When they were all settled together, legs entwined, Arianwen relaxed at last. It never quite felt right to go to sleep without both of them these days, like she was trying to rest in an unfamiliar room. Filled with a deep gratitude to both of them, Wen laced her fingers with each of their hands and lifted their knuckles to her lips in turn. 

“Goodnight,” she told them, savoring their combined weight on her shoulders, and rested their joined hands over her stomach. The others murmured their goodnights, voices dear and quiet in the dark room. 

Finally content, Wen snuggled into them and closed her eyes on the day.

[lupuslikethewolf]

s14/15 dean probably did not love or even like jack, but he would have absolutely taken him to get mcdonalds just because cas and sam said no, no questions asked.