ヴァイオレット・エヴァーガーデン [Violet Evergarden]

Production Update # 01

Mirrors: BnHA’S Writer Zine’s Pre-Orders are Open

Our sample postcards and bookmarks arrived today. Top two, featuring Mirio and Tamaki, are illustrated by @hamlinart; middle two, featuring the Wild Pussycats ( +Kouta ), are illustrated by @hexagonsgalore; and, all bookmark designs are illustrated by @motekill! Don’t miss out!

Store | Twitter | Participants | Previews | Inquire

Mirrors: BnHA’S Writer Zine’s Pre-Orders are Open

Physical copy pre-orders will run April 28th - May 30th. PDF sales will remain available through August. Please come check out everyone’s hard work!

Store | Twitter | Participants | Previews | Inquire

Mirrors: BnHA’S Writer Zine’s Pre-Orders are Open

Physical copy pre-orders will run April 28th - May 30th. PDF sales will remain available through August. Please come check out everyone’s hard work!

Store | Twitter | Participants | Previews | Inquire

Featuring works in: Fantasy AU, Halloween AU, Villain!Deku, All Might, Big Three, 1A / 1B Girls, League of Villains, BakuShima / KiriBaku, EraserMight, IzuOcha, KacChako, KatsuDeku / BakuDeku, ShinDeku, TodoDeku, and Rarepairs!

(( Do you like reading BNHA fics? Do you like BNHA fanart? Angst? Fluff? Well then the BNHA Mirrors Zine is a perfect match for you!! With other many fantastic artists and writers, I’ll be contributing to one of the many categories of angst and fluff creations in this huge collaborative project. Keep an eye out for updates, we’ll be selling physical and digital prints! ))

It's been amazing to see Zaku's progress on the illustrations!! Can't wait to see them printed up!

APPLICATIONS ARE OPEN!

What is a Reverse Big Bang? The goal of any Big Bang is to fill the fandom’s tag in one big “bang” over a period of a few days. A Reverse Big Bang is when fan-artists create a piece and writers create a piece for it. The pieces then come together to tell a complete story in the end. The appeal of a reverse big bang is that it allows artists to be more creative, as to not be constrained by what a writer writes, and the minimum word counts for writers tend to be lower.

THERE IS NO SKILL REQUIREMENT 

People will not be paired with each other based on skill, but rather what they can accomplish within a short period of time (See the tiers here!) . That means that all applicants will be accepted. 

Applications close April 3 (See the schedule here!) 

GO BEYOND! APPLY TODAY! PLUS ULTRA!

@uahigh-newsletter 

Lighthouse Keepers

For @mistye-dawne who won the 200 follower giveaway and wanted soft erasermight mornings.

I’ll be cleaning it up and posting to AO3 later!

Patrols have been easier, lately. Not because Shōta has been taken a less dangerous route— truthfully, he’s been taking harder and longer patrols— but because there’s something to look forward to when he gets home, no matter what god-awful hour it is. Or someone, rather.

There’s two camps in the hero world: one that maintains that personal relationships are a poor choice in the hero career and those who believe them utterly necessary. Shōta used to be firmly in the camp of the former: it is illogical to attach one’s self to another in a personal relationship when one knows their life could end tragically as part of their daily routine. Why cause more hurt where it isn’t needed? Obviously humans can’t go completely without personally connection but it’s best not to let those relationship become too deep, too personal.

And then All Might started teaching at UA.

No, Shōta muses as he traverses the rooftops in the heavy rain, no it truly began when Shōta himself started teaching, if he’s being honest with himself. But All Might arriving made something shift and set off a chain of events that would lead to Shōta shifting his own perspective on the matter. Now here he is, nearly a year later, and going home to Toshinori and musing on the subtle progression from hero name to first name and all the emotions that were felt during that transition.

What a difference a single year can make.

As his apartment comes into view, Shōta spots the warm light still lit from within even as the storm rages on and the hour ticks over from late to early. His hair sticking to his face, his clothes clinging to his form, and only saved from shivering by the exertion of his muscles leaping from rooftop to rooftop, Shōta feels a warmth bloom in his chest. He pauses, crouched on the rooftop next to their building and watches the window for a long moment, searching for signs of life.

He’d told Toshinori when they were first becoming friends that the worst part of patrols was coming home to a dark home. It had been a rare moment of melancholy, brought on by a long day after a longer night. It had been brief and never mentioned again, Shōta himself had forgotten the comment until months later, the first patrol he had after Toshinori had moved in and he saw the light on.

That strange bubbling warmth that filled him then still fills him every time he sees that guiding light welcoming him home.

Shōta shakes his head at his own illogical musings: it’s still pouring rain and he could be inside already. With one last flying leap Shōta is on his own roof and then he’s clambering down the building to his small deck and sliding open the door. There’s already a towel on the nearby kotatsu, folded neatly, and another on the floor where he’s dripping. Quietly, Shōta toes out of his boots while stripping out of his sopping uniform and tossing the lot of it into a waiting laundry basket. He pads softly into the apartment after drying off, the warmth of it almost stinging his chilled skin. As quietly as he can he opens the bedroom door turning off the hall light as he does so.

For a long moment he leans against the frame of the door, admiring the way the street lights from outside faintly illuminate the man in his bed. The yellow-white light making Toshinori’s sharp cheek bones look just a bit softer and ease the shadows under and around his eyes. His mouth is just slightly open as he breathes deeply and evenly.

When they first moved in together one of them entering the room would immediately awaken the other. That’s not the case anymore.

Drinking in his fill of sleeping Toshinori, Shōta crawls into bed while stepping around Toshinori’s open suitcase that he’d finally begun unpacking, snaking an arm around the other man’s waist and pressing his lips to the back of his neck.

“Mmm,” grumbles Toshinori, mostly still asleep, “welcome home Shōta.”

Shōta’s heart skips a beat— the words still unfamiliar after going so long without. He shifts, pleased but awkward, as he responds, “thank you,” pressing a kiss to the other man’s forehead.

But Toshinori is already asleep again and Shōta follows soon after, guided home to port.

Shōta wakes slowly, drifting lazily between dreams and wakefulness in a way that quickly becomes unfamiliar to heroes but has become more and more common in Shōta’s life. Soothed by the feelings of warmth and comfort he reaches over to grab at the warm body that should be there, only to meet the empty spot on their bed. Grumbling, Shōta’s mine turns firmly “on” and he wakes, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed even as his ears tune in to the sound of his partner (god when did that happen, part of Shōta still wonders, as if he could ever forget the moment they declared their feelings for eachother) padding softly in the other room; gentle jazz music croons in the air from the record player Toshinori brought when he moved in: one of the few mementos he had that was older than his time teaching at UA.

Shōta strains slightly to hear the sound he knows is there, flopping onto his back and tossing his forearm over his eyes as he does so. As his ears finally catch the low tones of Toshinori singing quietly along to the music, Shōta can’t help the way his lips quirk fondly. He breathes deeply, listening to his lover sing, letting the music cradle him as he sinks more deeply into the bed and the warm patch of sunlight that’s caressing him just so. He’s not quite asleep when the sound of coffee percolating joins the mini-symphony followed soon by the sound of something hitting the frying pan: judging by the smell the wafts in, Toshinori’s making eggs over rice, one of the few things he can stomach eating after particularly grueling patrols.

When did he figure that out, Shōta wonders to himself lazily. A nagging feeling presses into him: not like dread but more of something warm and hopeful. Slowly, his arm falls from his face and he looks to Toshinori’s side, where dark rimmed glasses sit atop a book about teaching. Toshinori denied vehemently that he needed the glasses but always squinted awfully when reading: Shōta had gotten him the pair after making the other man try several on until he admitted which pair helped him read better in his own round about manner. The lamp besides the book is also Toshinori’s— a simple delicate thing that Toshinori had hemmed and hawed about buying until Shōta rolled his eyes and told him it would help his eyesight, at the very least.

Toshinori had gotten a strange look on his face then, as he asked if Shōta had thought it would good in their room. Shōta doesn’t remember his exact phrasing but he remembers the soft delighted look on Toshinori’s face. A slow wave fills him, as he props himself up on an elbow, looking around their room.

There’s Toshinori’ jacket, there’s his stretch band, there’s his socks that he always forgets to put in the hamper and the small collection of books ranging from high fantasy to educational teaching material taking up nearly an entire shelf on what was Shōta’s bookcase. There’s the curtains Toshinori picked out after Shōta had complained of waking up easily: black out curtains to keep out the lights of the city, something Shōta had wanted but couldn’t justify buying for himself. There’s the rug at the base of the bed: a bed which Toshinori had brought over when he’d moved in as agreed upon due to Toshinori’s poor health.

Toshinori had moved in weeks ago: so why is it only now that Shōta realizes that this is no longer his apartment as he’d been thinking it of and is instead theirs?

Quickly, like snapshots, Shōta remembers the progression of the past few weeks: asking Toshinori to move in with him, the careful hesitant way he brought his things over, the way the music had been so quiet at first and Toshinori’s low singing had been near impossible to hear, the way he only just started unpacking his suitcases, even though it’s been weeks, like he’d been expecting Shōta to change his mind…

Because he had been, Shōta realizes. And Shōta hadn’t done anything to reassure him, he realizes sitting up straight and hands clenched in the quilt, he hadn’t helped Toshinori ease in at all, instead taking harder and harder patrols to avoid his own awkwardness at sharing his space with another so intimately. He’d made no secret of how he felt about relationships and love before: had he ever explained his changed feelings on the matter? Had he been too reckless? Too quick to move in with Toshinori, when he can’t even keep the other man feeling secure in his place in Shōta’s home?

No, Shōta thinks, mind grinding to a halt, our home, not mine.

It hadn’t been a whim, asking Toshinori to move in with him. It had been the product of nearly a year’s worth of emotion and turmoil. Quick by an civilian’s standards but fairly average in a Hero’s. Shōta had spent months turning the idea over in his mind, imagining it, longing for it. He thinks to last night, the way their home shone so brightly in the dark to guide him back to their shared bed and the winding tension releases.

No, Shōta reaffirms, this has been the best thing to have ever happened to me.

And despite Shōta’s own fumbling, it seems Toshinori has begun to make himself at home, finding his way on his own. But he shouldn’t have to, Shōta decided then, not if they’re going to do this. Toshinori shouldn’t have to stand tall and alone anymore, not with Shōta by his side.

The sound of Toshinori padding closer to the bedroom registers to Shōta and he panics for a moment, not quite ready or sure of what to say. Toshinori opens the door, mug of coffee— light and sweet Shōta already knows, just the way he likes it— with a smile on his face and Shōta’s scrambling mind goes quiet, instantly soothed by Toshinori’s presence.

“Oh! Shōta you’re awake!” Toshinori exclaims when he spots him, smiling wider and taking less care to quiet his steps as he approaches and hands Shōta the mug, “I was coming by to wake you— I know you hate to sleep too late no matter how little you slept during the night,” Toshinori says fondly if also slightly exasperated.

The warmth of the mug is nothing compared to the warmth of Toshinori or the warmth blooming in his chest as he stares intently at Toshinori.

Toshinori falters slightly, tugging at his bangs, “are you okay?” He frets, fingers fluttering towards Shōta but not quite touching, unsure.

Shōta never wants Toshinori to be unsure.

Carefully, he places the mug on the side table and reaches forward, tugging Toshinori down with him until they both flop onto the bed side by side, mindful of Toshinori’s old injury. A moment of arranging has their legs entwined and their arms wrapped around eachother as they breath eachother in.

“Shōta?” Toshinori asks in a whisper, “the food, and the coffee, they’ll get cold.”

Shōta hums in acknowledgement, even as he presses his lips to the other’s sunny hair.

“Stay here with me,” Shōta asks without really asking.

Toshinori chuckles and settles more firmly into the mattress making Shōta hum slightly in contentment. Carefully, he pets at Toshinori’s back until every bit of held tension is released and he’s pliant in Shōta’s arms.

Shōta presses presses another kiss to Toshinori’s hair, eyes shut as he’s soothed into a restful state once more, the most soothing balm to his anxieties by his side once more.

The thought occurs to him as he hovers between sleep and wakefulness, jazz music still playing faintly somewhere in the distance and a Toshinori breathing deeply in his arms. He leans forward and murmurs just for Toshinori to hear, the little words that have come to mean so much to him.

“Hmm… what was that?” Toshinori murmurs, stirred briefly.

“Rest Toshi. I’ll tell you later.”

And he would, many, many more times.

We’re home.

Reblog if you encourage people sending those excellently shitty valentines cards to your inbox

Oh, how strange, you seem to have stumbled across the inn’s archives. How peculiar indeed.

Nevertheless, we see you are a curious mind with an interest in our establishment and are ever so grateful for it. We believe you should have been given a tour of the inn already, if not, never fear. We will deliver one shortly.

How about we begin with our weekly schedule, hmm? We have a wonderful amount of activities within the inn, ranging from magic lessons to understanding the history of the land and weaponry practices. 

Ah, we see you are particular invested in the timeline of the inn’s establishment, how lovely!

Well, dear traveler, follow us.

We are delighted to announce the schedule we will be following for the BNHA  Myths Zine!! 

*please note these dates are subject to change. 

until next time, dear traveler.

This is an appreciation post for the fanfic authors who aren’t included on rec lists

For the fanfic authors who don’t get art of their fics

For the fanfic authors who can’t get to 1000/500/100 hits

For the fanfic authors who don’t get comments/reviews

For the fanfic authors who write for small fandoms

For the fanfic authors who write rarepairs or gen fics

For the fanfic authors who get hate for the ships/characters/fandoms they write

For the fanfic authors who write in English despite it not being their first language

For the fanfic authors who don’t write in English

For the fanfic authors who don’t think anyone reads or likes their work

For the fanfic authors who aren’t big name fans

For the fanfic authors who don’t get requests in their inboxes

For the fanfic authors who can’t write stories that are more than a thousand words

For the fanfic authors who only write one ship

For the fanfic authors who are just starting

For the fanfic authors who have been writing fic for years

For the fanfic authors who use fanfic to practice writing

For the fanfic authors who write self-insert fics

For the fanfic authors who write about their OCs

For the fanfic authors who write to vent or cope

For the fanfic authors who are just waiting for their big break

Keep creating, I love you ❤️

I needed this. I imagine others do, too.

valentine’s day magic

♡ glamour spells and vigils written in makeup.

♡ a ritual bath, with rose quartz, rose petals, oils, himalayan salt and lavender for self love or to show love to a deity (such as Aphrodite).

♡ create or update an altar- for yourself or Aphrodite. use sea shells, photos of those you love and admire, chocolate, rose petals, pearls and whatever else holds significance to you.

♡ write a love letter to yourself. seal it with a kiss, a ribbon or a wax seal.

♡ write poetry, or a story. or, if you can’t get the words down, simply close your eyes and daydream.

♡ kitchen magic! for example, bake yourself brownies but add your own magic / ingredients into them (crushed biscuit, spices, salted caramel, honey, white chocolate…)

♡ lay out a tarot spread for love or romance.

♡ make a love potion or spell. there are two excellent masterposts for this by orriculum and heatherwitch.

♡ go to your local flower shop and buy some flowers or seeds- most flowers correspond to love, but especially roses, jasmine and lilac. if you can’t afford them, pick dandelions or daisies off the pavement and place them in a little water.

♡ practice kindness. give to a charity, cuddle your pet, compliment strangers, be indulgent and buy something you know you don’t need but want…

Fictional Kiss Prompts

So I borrowed a bunch of these fictional kisses from this post and made it up into a prompt list. Feel free to reblog of course!