#struggled with the typography for way too long

[concidineart]

Messing around with design ideas

[crispycoffeealpaca]

Starts a new coding project. Loses track of time. It's 3AM now. Goodbye sleep schedule.

[lacefuneral]

talking abt the drawings

ok so.

i've had chronic pain for as long as i can remember. in high school i literally walked around with a wrist brace on each hand 24/7

despite this, i really wanted to go into art. and i did. i managed to get into art school, studied for 5 years, and earned my degree.

my chronic pain was always there, but when i was on T, weirdly, it lessened. that made it easier to do studio work. with T, though, i had a lot of other medical issues, and decided to stop it in my final year.

regardless of pain, i've always had a "craft" issue. that's what professors referred to it as. it's like... you struggle to color in the lines. when you fold a paper it's crooked. when you trim a print it isn't a perfect rectangle. and anyone who has ever received a wrapped present from me will know. it's like, the messiest thing you've ever seen.

i've always had some kind of like. fine motor difficulty. and that never went way even with my training. in many cases, it resulted in lower grades. but i just kept going.

and i'm unsure if it's due to craft or something else, but i was never a strong illustrator. and that's not too uncommon for some graphic designers. illustration and graphic design are different tracks, even. a lot of us rely on shapes, typography, and patterns instead of very elaborate drawings.

the pandemic (and other circumstances) uprooted my life. instead of going right into a graphic design internship, i was jobless and stuck at home. i sank into a deep depression, and my pain worsened to the point where making art even for fun hurt my body too much.

i think the first time i bothered to try traditional art again was when i made a portrait of my ex boyfriend a couple of years ago, but then i stagnated again.

and right now, i'm in a period of my life where choosing to live each day is very, very hard. but i want to. and i want to try to make art. so i am challenging myself to draw as much as possible. i'm being mindful of my pain and stopping when i need to. and i'm trying to be kind to myself. even if the craft is bad (it will be) and if the end result is Bad Art. because making Bad Art is okay, and because i'm trying to regain muscle memory i lost years ago, and improve upon it.

this is a new medium, too. i have never worked with markers previously. my traditional 2D art was always pencils, pens, charcoal, or acrylic paint. the markers i have are very cheap, and marketed as highlighters for books, not as drawing materials. i'm taking advantage of the pastels, and challenging myself with the limited color palette.

i'm having fun so far. i was always scared of markers for some reason. maybe because "real" brush markers are expensive. maybe because markers have a reputation through bleeding through paper (which i've since learned is often a paper issue, not a marker one.) and i think the permanence, too. i can't erase a mark after i make it. but that's letting me sit with my mistakes.

[raviposting]

hi janie! congrats on 8k followers you deserve every single one of them!! could i request ✨ + /tagged/* please? thank you!! <3

Aaaah thank you!! Abigail this was so hard narrowing down to 5 why did I make this 5 asdfjkl me and my self imposed rules </3 I've kind of made this into different effects you've done that I've noticed and really really love!

This gifset is different from your usual style of sets that I've seen re color wise but I think it's just SO wonderful. I think it puts more focus on the scenes you've chosen and the words associated with them both. I struggle with typography a lot and I've genuinely have this gifset link saved as inspo for whenever I want to try being artsy with my typograhy lol. (Your typography in general is just stunning, I'm OBSESSED with how you made this gifset as well!)

This is just SOOOO beautiful!! Your blending in general is just MWAH amazing and the typography is fantastic as always. You do such a good job blending together two different colors and they always look so cohesive together.

I'm already cheating and it's my event so big tie between this and this. You manage to put in a lot of gif effects but it just doesn't feel out of place, too fast, or cluttered - once again it looks like such a cohesive set and like everything was meant to be there, but there's also enough that you can really take time and sit with these sets and notice something different.

I don't even watch Teen Wolf but I just keep going back to this gifset and I can't even verbalize why lol. The blues are just very pretty and this itches my brain in the right spot, of a gifset with very clean coloring on their skin, beautiful blues that are their own distinct shade without looking off from one another, really vibrant without looking unnatural. tumblr tells me this is from 2017 and it just seems like a really nice like idk. Foreshadowing for how you usually do sets and what goes into it lmfao

God I love this set sm! Again, I'm a sucker for the pink and blues and the ink drop transition is MWAH.

Bonuses: This because holy shit I can't imagine how long it must have taken and again, the typography is blowing me away, and this bc I am a simple bitch who loves colors and this once again itches my brain in the right way <3

✨Janie's 8k Celebration✨

[haldenlith]

Some people are probably tired of me shouting into the void about this, but my mind is buzzing angrily about it.

Quick context: I am going back to school, so I can have a nice shiny piece of paper that says I'm a "Super Legit Know What I'm Talking About, I Paid Thousands For This Stupid Piece of Paper" Graphic Designer. (To be fair I've actually learned a lot so far.)

I'm in this one "distance learning" (ie online) class, "Typography II". We were given a big project that was very obviously our Final at the beginning of the year, in January. It was to write/research and design an entire book, 40-page minimum (including covers and table of contents). It came due last week. (I was very much done and submitted before then, because I was very In The Zone with this project. Unsure about sharing it here because it has my name on it, but I might share the link in a DM if you ask. I think I wrote a pretty compelling typography book.)

We're then assigned people to do critiques on (to ensure everyone gets critiqued by two people). I check so that I can do my critiques.

Let me tell you what. I just about hit the ceiling. Five-ish people, including myself, turned the assignment in. (Or at least turned it in on time.) Hell, of what was turned in, I think, aside from myself, only two other people put any amount of research into their book topic (WHICH WE CHOSE, they weren't even assigned! We got to pick whatever we wanted as long as we could relate it to typography!). And honestly, only one other student, from reading their book, felt like they put any actual effort into it at all. (Her book was simple, but very nice.) The other... read like he got bored half-way through his own research, because he had like a handful of sources and a whole bunch of paragraphs that were just him repeating himself, just paraphrased, in a very obvious "I need to hit the 40-page minimum" attempt.

Another person had a nice looking book, but it was filled with Lorem Ipsum filler text. Another was maybe two pages of research, and then the entire rest of the book was just a picture book.

I just... what.

We had three months -- THREE MONTHS -- to do this. Three. Tres. Ninety whole ass days. We had FOUR check-ins during the course of those three months, to show our progress and how we're doing, and a FIFTH optional check-in that wasn't graded. It was there so that we could ask for help if we needed it. The professor even asked the class if the due dates were too tight (we also had other exercises and projects to do in the meantime while we did this in the background), if the class was going too fast, and they needed more time... Short of doing it in interpretive dance in front of a neon flashing sign, I don't know how more obviously she could've asked, "Hey, this is your sign to speak up if you're having issues."

This is technically an upper level course. This is also a class you can't take without taking Typography I, which was set up THE EXACT SAME WAY. This is also an elective class specifically for Graphic Design Degrees at my uni. You're not here unless you intend to be a designer.

It's just insulting to see, en masse, everyone just go "nah". They're wasting my time because I have to struggle to critique whatever is going on with those that DID submit. They're wasting the professor's time by sitting in her class and not doing the work. They're wasting another student's time by taking up a seat that could've been filled by someone else. They're wasting their own time being there and going through the motions (some of them had some really interesting progress shots to show of their book during the check-ins), but not following through.

They're also wasting money, because the class is like... $400-ish, so, you know.

It's also insulting considering the sheer amount of work I put into my own submission. It feels like researching and making a gourmet three-course meal to the best of my ability to impress a cooking show judge with, but then looking over and seeing half the competition hasn't even bothered to make anything, and the other half has a stale, cold burger off the McDonald's dollar menu.

I know I shouldn't care, because it doesn't entirely affect me at the end of the day (though I do have to suffer through trying to critique it or get marked off). But still, it's just... mind blowing to me.

[byierficrecs]

hiii! first of all, I LOVE your graphics. they are quite literally one GORGEOUS and take my breath away every time I come across them on my dash. if I saw your designs on a book at the store I think it'd snatch it off the shelves right then and there without reading the synopsis because it's just so pretty <3 anyways... as a fellow graphic designer myself, typography is usually the place where I struggle. what fonts do you find yourself using the most//ones that you just think are pretty and recommend to others? :3

hello~ you're way too kind :(

i'll be honest, i usually scroll mindlessly through canvas' catalogue until i see something i like. there are a few fonts i tend to reuse, though:

the last four on the "text" side (they are very different, i promise) are really good for long summaries~

i think these are pretty and very versatile~ there's probably more, but those are the ones i even know by name :]

hope this helps ! and thank you so much for the sweet message !!

[what-even-is-thiss]

Okay, thoughts written down after class when I’ve actually got time to listen to the whole thing because this thing is movie length for some reason

This is gonna be long but it’s all in one reblog so it doesn’t clog up your feed

Insert from future me: I ended up listening to half of it before taking a break so this is gonna be the first half. This should’ve been two different albums. I feel like a 15 song album is my limit for a listen-through. I’ll give thoughts on the second half later

Fortnight: not about the video game sadly. the song is mostly standard Taylor Swift fare with some edgy flavor thrown in there. I’ve never listened to Post Malone before and I like his voice in this one. Might see if I like some of his other work later. Can’t say I’m a fan of the music video’s specific use of psych ward imagery.

The tortured poets department: I don’t really like this one. Specifically the writing. It just doesn’t vibe with me. Hopefully it gets more young people to read Dylan Thomas though. This just sounds like Taylor Swift song and nothing else to me. She’s not really breaking new ground with this one.

One of the things I like about Taylor Swift is that she’s fairly different between albums while still sounding solidly like Taylor Swift but at this point I’m sorta struggling to figure out what she’s doing differently here

My boy only breaks his favorite toys: It’s aight. I’ll probably listen again but not on repeat. It’s too similar in tone to the last two songs though in my opinion

Down Bad: it’s on this album for sure. The lyric video for this one is a good example of my problem with official lyric videos these days. Like there’s getting creative with your typography and then there’s whatever that PowerPoint slide looking abomination is.

So Long, London: It’s pretty good but not in a knock your socks off way it’s just pretty good I like it but at this point as an album I’m wondering where we’re going with this. We’ve mostly stayed in a very similar tone musically with these first five songs

But daddy I love him: This is the first one that’s going in the casual listening shuffle playlist. It’s more similar to her older stuff but not in a way where it feels like a step backwards. Just a little bit of her old country flavor here but not too much. Just a pinch. Classic persona stuff as well. She’s done this sort of thing from the beginning but did a lot of it in folklore and evermore

Fresh out the slammer: I don’t really get this one lyrically. Like the whole concept of it is sort of lost on me I think. Musically it’s pretty similar to stuff she’s been doing since Reputation so not much to report on that.

Florida!!!: This song gets better as it goes along. I really love the drums in this one. It’s also reminded me I need to listen to more Florence + The Machine. Love the vocal mixing here too. It’s got good texture. I’d like to eat this song, tbh. In a good way. Going on the shuffle playlist.

Guilty as sin?: Classic Taylor Swift pining sing. That’s the good stuff. It’s even got a chorus! Might consider putting it on the shuffle playlist.

Who’s afraid of little old me?: Obviously written for teenage girls to have revenge fantasies to. I think this was the one people were getting mad about on tumblr. I think I get the criticism but this song is not that deep and I don’t think it needs to be. Not going on the shuffle playlist but I might listen to it on loop while writing as background noise

I can fix him (no really I can): it’s here for sure. It’s on the album. Don’t super care about this one either way but I just know if there’s ever a music video for it it’ll be insufferable

loml: not my vibe but it’s well done and has some good turns of phrase in it

I can do it with a broken heart: Classic song about being famous and under pressure that the average person can’t relate to. It’s kinda fun though. I think we needed some fun in this album. I mean yeah the lyrics are about being depressed after a breakup but it’s fun musically.

The smallest man who ever lived: Not exactly sure what that was tbh. Breakup song I suppose. It’s fine. Won’t be seeking it out again.

My thoughts so far are that there’s some good stuff here but I worry that maybe she’s reached the point of fame where people can’t tell her when a song doesn’t need to be on an album anymore. Some of these songs tire me, I’ll be honest. There’s a lot of sameness going on here I haven’t come to expect from her.

I have figured out that all the sudden Taylor Swift hate on my dash is due to a new Taylor Swift album being out and seeing that I'm a casual Swift fan (I do not identify as a Swiftie) I think perhaps I should listen and report my findings so I'm gonna have it on while I get ready for class today. Which is fitting because I'm going to poetry class so seeing as I am technically a tortured poet supposedly this album is meant to speak to me so *mario voice* Here we go!

[pixenite]

How to Create a Brand That Stands Out in a Crowded Market?

So, how do you carve your unique space in a crowded market? Let’s dive into some key steps:

1. Know Your Audience Inside and Out:

Before you embark on any branding journey, understanding your target audience is paramount. Who are you trying to reach? What are their needs, desires, and pain points? Imagine you’re having a conversation with your ideal customer. What are they struggling with? How can your brand solve their problems or make their lives better?

Conduct thorough market research, analyze competitor offerings, and consider surveys or focus groups. The more you understand your audience, the better you can tailor your brand message and offerings to resonate with them.

2. Craft a Compelling Brand Story:

Every successful brand has a story to tell. It’s not just about what you sell; it’s about the values you represent, the emotions you evoke, and the experience you deliver. What makes your brand unique? Why should someone choose you over the competition? Develop a clear and concise brand story that connects with your audience on an emotional level.

3. Define Your Brand Voice and Personality:

Imagine your brand as a person. What kind of personality would they have? Friendly and approachable? Bold and innovative? Understanding your brand voice helps guide your communication style across all platforms. Are you playful and informal, or professional and authoritative? Consistency is key. Your brand voice should resonate across your website, social media, marketing materials, and even customer service interactions.

4. Design a Memorable Brand Identity:

Your brand identity is the visual representation of your brand story and personality. This includes your logo, color palette, typography, and imagery. Invest in a professional logo design that’s simple, memorable, and reflects your brand essence. Choose colors that evoke the right emotions and use consistent fonts across all your platforms.

5. Build Brand Trust and Credibility:

Trust is a cornerstone of any successful brand. Consumers are more likely to buy from brands they feel they can trust. Be transparent in your communication and business practices. Deliver exceptional customer service and consistently exceed expectations. Positive online reviews and testimonials can go a long way in building trust.

6. Embrace the Power of Content Marketing:

Content marketing allows you to share valuable information and build relationships with your target audience. Create informative blog posts, engaging social media content, or helpful video tutorials. Become a thought leader in your industry and consistently share your expertise. The more valuable content you provide, the more likely your audience is to see you as a trusted resource.

7. Leverage the Right Marketing Channels:

Today’s marketing landscape offers a plethora of channels to reach your audience. Identify the platforms where your target audience spends their time, be it social media, email marketing, or targeted online advertising. Don’t spread yourself too thin. Focus on the channels that offer the most reach and engagement for your brand.

8. Foster Brand Advocacy:

Every satisfied customer has the potential to become a brand advocate. Encourage positive word-of-mouth by delivering exceptional service, offering rewards programs, and creating opportunities for customer engagement. Loyal customers are your biggest brand champions.

9. Stay Consistent and Patient:

Building a successful brand takes time, effort, and consistency. Develop a long-term brand strategy and stick to it. Monitor your results and make adjustments as needed.

10. Partner with a Branding Agency:

When it comes to crafting a powerful brand, working with a professional branding agency can be highly beneficial. A branding agency can help you with every step of the process, from market research and brand strategy development to logo design and marketing plan creation.

Conclusion:

Building a brand that stands out in a crowded market requires dedication, creativity, and a commitment to excellence. By following these steps and partnering with a reputable branding agency like Pixenite, you can craft a brand that resonates with your target audience, drives growth, and achieves lasting success.

Pixenite is a full-service branding agency that can help you with every step of the branding process, from strategy development to creative execution. We believe that strong brands are built on a foundation of clear purpose, compelling storytelling, and authentic connections. Let us help you create a brand that stands out from the crowd.

FAQs:

Q: What is a branding agency?

A branding agency is a marketing firm specializing in helping businesses develop, manage, and promote their brands. They offer a range of services, including market research, brand strategy development, logo design, and marketing campaign creation.

Q: How can a branding agency help my business?

A branding agency can help you create a strong and memorable brand that resonates with your target audience. They can also help you develop a comprehensive brand strategy and execute marketing campaigns that drive brand awareness and growth.

Q: Do I need a branding agency?

Whether or not you need a branding agency depends on your specific needs and resources. If you’re starting a new business or looking to revitalize your existing brand.

Article Source : https://medium.com/@pixenite/how-to-create-a-brand-that-stands-out-in-a-crowded-market-1cc88d0cc80a

[c-mccormick-svad-2022-2025]

(ARTS246) Ch 12: Typographic Design Process & Project 3: Finalized Process Book PDF

It has been an eventful week full of reviews and corrections. I have spent long nights sitting in front of my computer screen, constantly second-guessing myself, my theme, and my layout for the book. But now, I have created my typography process book & portfolio. It's hard to believe that this semester is almost over, and I have learned a lot from taking Typography I and II. Reviewing my work this week, I have improved from the first progress book I made in Design Technology and Concepts. Although I used a similar grid as my first process book, the layout was completely different due to my wordy, detailed blog posts (sorry, Professor Valdes 😅.) However, I'm glad I treated my blog posts as brain dumps because they helped me write detailed descriptions of my creative process.

The book has been uploaded to Blurb.com for printing and shipping, and it is expected to be ready in about two weeks, hopefully by April 22nd. Overall, I found Blurb to be a relatively easy platform to use, with a slight learning curve at first, as one would expect when learning something new. One of the features I particularly liked was the system's preview function, which allowed me to see the final product before proceeding to the billing process. However, I am somewhat concerned about the PDF file. I am somewhat of a perfectionist, so this being my first physical book to showcase my work, I want it to be as close to perfect as possible. Unfortunately, when I received the printed PDF, I noticed some discrepancies that differed from the preview I had reviewed on Blurb. Specifically, the cover didn't carry all the way to the top of the page, resulting in a small white line being visible, which worried me. Additionally, one of the pages had completely different colors from my original file. This was particularly noticeable in my airline rebranding pattern, where the colors appeared too bright, causing me a bit of a headache. This was strange because the preview on Blurb had appeared completely different and correct, and my test prints had also shown no issues with color matching. I used FedEx's economy 80lb paper, which should be the same paper used for the final printed book. While some might consider these concerns trivial, they remain significant concerns for me. Unfortunately, I couldn't view the paid PDF until after the purchase had been made, so there wasn't much I could do once the file had been sent for printing. At this point, I can only hope that everything works out in the end.

On a positive note, I can use this portfolio to apply for an internship. It showcases my skills in typography, page, and spread layout. Moreover, it's one of the initial projects I created using my personal branding color palette and pictorial logo. I'm thrilled with the final book design, which combines antique/movable type-inspired typography with a geometric surface design. I'm excited to use this color palette and design aesthetic for my upcoming projects.!

I have reached the chapter on the typographic design process in my reading for this week, which is my favorite chapter. I absolutely love learning about how artists bring their ideas to life and find it inspiring to see their creative process. However, the book mentions that starting a project can be daunting, which is so true. I often struggle with a project's initial phase because I am unsure where to begin. Additionally, I wonder when the process of designing ends. Personally, I view design as an ongoing project, and although I complete projects for a grade, I can always revisit them later. For instance, after submitting my process book for grading and printing, I had many ideas for the pages, such as changing the color of call-out captions to make them stand out more. I appreciate how the book showcases the progression of sketches, thumbnails, vectors, and the final product. It is insightful to see how other creatives approach their creative process, and I believe this chapter will serve as a great reference whenever I am stuck or require inspiration during my creative process.

[jazz-vcd]

Final Reflection

Task 2 was a rollercoaster ride (it was a lot of fun, but I was also scared that I wouldn’t make it to the end). It was a big project, so I will break the reflection into parts.

First up was the collage for which I presented Neville Brody’s quote “typography is a hidden tool of manipulation in society.” I chose this quote partly because I believe it, partly because I love how seriously designers take themselves, and mostly because it sounds cool. I cut the quote down to just 5 words “a hidden tool of manipulation” as the full quote was too long and cluttered the page. I knew I would probably lean towards Postmodernism and grunge in my collage, so when a classmate brought a collection of old art magazines to cut up, I plundered accordingly. I was picky with my letters, collecting letters with a handmade/printed look that were similar sizes and colours. Initially I wanted to make a collage like a hidden objects game so that I could use details as features on different pages of the zine. I tried many iterations of the collage but ultimately felt the images I had weren’t cohesive, so I decided to cut back to only the fortune teller since he tied in nicely with the quote.  I followed Constructivist influences when creating the sunburst and positioning the words. Overall, I love the way the collage turned out, although it is off-centre which really frustrates me – in future I’ll be sure to measure things out properly before cutting them up or gluing them down.  

Collage evolution (#DesignIsAnIterativeProcess)

Next up was the monogram, which was the section I struggled with most. Silly as it sounds, I don’t like my name, so I wasn’t keen on investing time into portraying it. Still, I gave it a go- I do appreciate a good monogram (and it was mandatory). I found myself drawn to older monograms; those made by creatives who used traditional making techniques like printing or engraving to sign their works.  Our first monogram exercise tasked us with hand drawing 2 monograms inspired by 3 different font styles. 

Dodgy attempts at hand lettering

Of the styles I experimented with I wound up really liking the blackletter designs, so I sent it to Illustrator using the Adobe Capture app, where I edited it to improve the quality of the vector and position the letters more nicely together. I kept some of the texture of the original drawing to maintain the handmade feeling, but edited enough so it felt refined. My monogram was well made, but could have been more interesting – I really struggled to find ways to weave the letters J and T without it looking like a stick. I am interested in pushing myself on this front to improve my typography and hand lettering skills.

Brainstorming alternative monograms

Process of designing final monogram

Final monogram (in a container)

Finally, all the pieces came together for the zine. I got Covid right in the middle of this project so it was a little hectic for me. Regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed the making process and felt that it was a great creative exercise.  My font choices were Kiln Sans (sans-serif)- a textured font styled to look like a wood-block print; and P22 Typewriter (serif). Both of these fonts came from the Adobe Fonts library, and both emulated the handmade look that I love. I enjoyed playing with the layouts of the text and tried to develop a look that blended the geometry of Constructivism with the chaos of post-Modernism. That being said, after looking more carefully at the magazine spreads of Greiman and Carson, I could have done with a more careful use of grids in my layouts (particularly on pages 4 and 5). I enjoy learning the Adobe suite so most of the issues I faced during the creation process felt like learning opportunities – except for the problems that made me feel crazy... I'm looking at you printing set-up. It took me four tries to get all the pages printed in the right order, I had to add an extra collage in the middle to make the pages divisible by 4, then the pages printed unaligned. I cut them to size as best as I could, but realised that I definitely need some practice with using bleeds/slugs/etc to achieve the desired results.

(Bonus collage/mini-poster in centerfold!)

Final zine spread, cover to cover

This project (and class overall) has helped me to further develop my own art style, while encouraging me to see a project through to completion – something I really need to work on outside of uni. This process has also deepened my understanding of the history of design, giving context to and (I think) improving the overall quality of my work.

[georgiaeveritt]

Unit Conclusion & Evaluation

This unit provided me with useful skills and tools which helped me to gain my confidence as a designer. The CHS brief was a great opportunity at creating for a real-life brief, putting my presentation skills mostly to test. I found the whole experience and expecially their feedback very insightful and helpful, because it helped me to further understand what working for a client involves. 

The presentation was the hardest part of this project, as it was only a week long project so I felt a bit of pressure. However as a group we worked together successfully by all undertaking our roles and combining ideas together. Once we had a set colour scheme, font/s, and graohic elements sorted along with a brand name and image we were set to complete our individual tasks. I found this way of approaching a group project very fun, because we mostly sat creating together for a few afternoons all at the same time whilst doing our own tasks. 

I think we would have benefitted from a couple extra days, because we aspired to do a lot more with the brand such as using our own imagery and experimenting with photography. This is still something I want to explore a a designer, because photography is something I have enjoyed since I was young and I think using your own imagery adds more personality. Furthermore, we recieved insightful feedback from the CHS team which I really appreciated, and I now feel excited and more confident working on live briefs in the future.

D&AD was also a great opportunity at responding on a live brief, on a much larger scale. At first I struggled with sticking to a brief and certain idea, putting too much ressure on myself to come up with something amazing very quickly. But, after choosing a brief that really motivated me I became instantly lost in my research, and I finally felt excited and passionte again. 

I think switching from the ebay brief to The Case For Her was definitely the right choice for me, because abortion is a topic I feel strongly passionate towards and all the values and beliefs I found in my research were so insightful. I learnt so much from watching films, reading articles, listening to podcasts and having real-life conversations with people that I felt so inspired. 

I think my designs for this outcome definitely could’ve been a lot stronger for this project, because I think I struggled with potraying such strong emotions in a subtle way. If i was to do this project again I definitely would take more time to research into the design aspects of campaigns, because this is what I struggled the most with. 

In conclusion, I feel that as a designer I have really grown throughout this unit. I think before we started, I felt a bit lost because I as unsure of what direction I wanted to go in as a creative. It wasn’t an easy process, and I had to experiment lots of techniques along the way to get to this point, but at this stage I feel more confident than before as an experimental typographic designer. Typography, motion, print and ux design are all routes I’m particularly interested in, and I’m excited for the future as a designer. Obviously I still have lots of improving to do, but I feel already I have come so far since the beginning of this unit. 

[juniperscribe]

This one hadn’t been on the “to read” shelf for too long, but I picked it up when I had to suddenly fly back to my sister’s place last month. I knew I would need something to read in transit & once I was there & I knew I wanted a piece of fiction. Always enjoyed the work of @jon_mcgregor & as my family was dealing with sudden struggles & tragedies, it was strangely comforting to read about another family going through very different struggles & tragedies. I just loaned this to a friend, so I don’t want to give too much away, but it begins in Antarctica, shifts to Chile, & finally to Cambridge, England. It’s beautiful & uses language in interesting ways, especially when language is very much failing one of the main characters. Cover design by @nlcaputo , interior by Wah-Ming Chang. #bookcoverdesign #bookdesign #graphicdesign #writing #fiction #reading #literature #contemporaryliterature #typography (at Antarctica) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqRVUohrmP8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[condensedmatters]

I fucking love TeX

Professional graphic designers like to think they're pushing the world of typography forward, but they're delusional—the real heroes are all the middle-aged dudes on the TeX User Group making typefaces and packages for TeX's many distributions.

Do you honestly think scientists use InDesign? Please, we have better things to spend grant money on—we use TeX (and some use Word and get other people to do the TeX for them). We program our documents and we like it.

Oh what's that? Adobe's charging you a shitload of fuck every month to keep using their shitty page layout software? Oh me? I just downloaded a professional bit of software for free, along with like 10 Gb worth of extra packages for free. The source code? Oh yeah, I can edit that too.

And TeX does exactly what you tell it—no fucking stupid Office/InDesign "oh you're clicking this button so I'll destroy your whole document" bullshit, no stupid AI grammar checker, no long menus, no dialogue trees, no using all your computer's resources. Just type in your command and you're done. If I want to put a picture in a document at the top of a page, all I need to do is

\begin{figure}[t]

\includegraphics{foo}

\caption{Eat my ass, Adobe!}

\end{figure}

The best part is using pandoc with LaTeX, so you don't have to do much programming at all, you just type a markdown document—which is so easy to do it's supported on tumblr—and tell pandoc to make it a PDF. You can program your own templates and everything, it's just wonderful. I use XeTeX with pandoc, so I can use OpenType and TrueType fonts, and get all their cozy features, without using Word or some shit.

TeX also has the best math typesetting, bar none. If you're doing any kind of stuff with math at all, you're going to use TeX without question—if you've ever been on a forum with a bunch of nerds that has a math typesetting thing, that's TeX right there.

And want to know something else? People think you're goddamn Alan Turing for typing shit up in TeX. People think you might as well be Jesus Christ, son of Tony fucking Hawk for typing "\emph{foo}" in your document.

In some ways TeX is even easier than HTML—you don't have to remember how to use all those stupid XML tags, you just do \foo for your commands, and play with brackets, and that's it.

If you've never tried it, I highly suggest you play around with TeX for a bit. Overleaf has some wonderful documentation for TeX—specifically LaTeX—and you can use their free website to learn TeX without installing anything on your computer.

Citations? Oh yeah, TeX does that. If you use a plain TeX distribution, BibLaTeX is your best friend—it's easy to use, super powerful, and handles your citations automatically from a bibliography file—you can just use Zotero to manage your bibliography and research, then export your bibliography to a BibLaTeX file. If you're using pandoc, it can do CSL citations, which means you can really easily find, say, MLA, Chicago/Turabian, and niche journal citation styles. It is literally a godsend—you can just type in "\cite{foo}" (TeX) or "[@foo]" (pandoc) and cite your source.

If you've never done it before, by god consider trying TeX. I can't say it's easy—the time you save not doing GUI bullshit will be spent reading documentation—and the learning curve is high, but it's so worth it in the end.

There will be headaches learning it, you will struggle to know what "overfull hbox" means; you will struggle to remember the names of a few symbols; you will, by god, misalign brackets, or use square brackets where you should have used curly braces. But in the end it all works, it all comes together almost divinely.

What I suggest for new learners is to get the TeX basics down first, then transition to pandoc and make your own TeX template to use—it will give you the necessary TeX experience to make something that works good, and eventually help you save a lot of time.

[montygreen]

4, 5, 8, 12, 18, 20, 28, 32 (I know you've done this one - but link another you feel should have more? Your gifs are great), 33, 39 (especially!), 42: how do you sharpen? is there a faster way than frame by frame? Thank you! 😊

Thank you SO much, anon <3

4. What do you enjoy about making graphics / gifs? Typography can be a lot of fun!! Especially when you pair together fonts you wouldn't think would work well, but that end up looking super nice together. I also really enjoy blending!!

5. What do you dislike most about making graphics / gifs? Sometimes (not always) colouring can be a CHORE. TV seems to either be too dark or too red/yellow. I also really struggle with shapes, any set you see me make with shapes takes about 3x as long haha

8. Your favourite graphic and or gif created by yourself At the moment, that would be the set I have pinned!

12. Font(s) you like using Avenir is a nice font for something basic, Windsong is a beautiful cursive font, Al Nevrada is nice for bigger lettering, earwig factory is just kind of neat

18. What is your go to adjustment / PSD for colouring? I have a PSD I created when I first started giffing Never Have I Ever that I sometimes use as a baseline for colouring, it mostly uses curves to brighten up the scene then colour balance to get rid of the yellow/red tones

20. Your favourite fandom(s) to make graphics / gifs for Right now it would be OFMD because I have brainrot haha

28. Advice for any beginner graphic / gif makers? Users on this site provide the BEST tutorials!! I've learned some techniques I use pretty damn frequently from some blogs I follow here!!

32. The least notes a graphic / gif of yours has ever gotten that you feel deserves way more. (Link it!) I've made SO many gifsets over my time hear (I've been giffing for 6+ years!!) But this gifset I made of Devi Vishwakumar + Maisie Peter's You Signed Up For This DEFINITELY deserves more notes

33. Give us a quick explanation of how you make a graphic / gif? Haha okay let me try. So I open a file in VLC media player, use this to take screencaps and then import these as layers into photoshop. I I make this layers into frames, make sure that the speed is what I want (and that it's looping infinitely) and then I add various layers to colour. Finally, once I've coloured I add any text and other effects of my choosing. (So when I do stuff like blending or layer masking, I always colour first, flatten the frames into layers and then do that sort of manipulation)

39. What software do you use to make graphics / gifs? Photoshop CC!

42. Anything you’re curious about graphic/gif related! Confession: I don't sharpen. I just only use files that are 720-1080 px when I make my gifs. I had a friend share a sharpening action with me a few years ago, but I could never convince myself to try it out.

Ask a graphic / gif maker

[certifiedskywalker]

How to Make Small Talk in Five Simple Steps - Bucky Barnes

When people meet, they often use small talk as a means to negotiate and define the start of a new relationship. When you and Bucky meet, you both struggle to find the right words.

WARNING: talk of therapy, references to trauma and anxiety, and mild cursing

I. Show genuine interest.

“You’re new.”

“Excuse me?”

You shifted in your seat and eyed the man sitting across from you in the waiting room. His piercing cerulean eyes were squinted in your direction, right where he aimed his question. Despite the puppy-like confusion apparent in the way his head was cocked to the side, there was an edge to the mystery man. Perhaps it came from his clothes.

The jacket he wore was pitch black, a leather-like material that squeaked against the back of his chair when he moved. It looked brand new. Not to mention the matching gloves. His hands, joined together and resting on his abdomen, were covered in thick, dark fabric. There was not an inch of skin exposed, save for his face.

Though judging by the permanent scowl etched on his lips as he stared at you in wait for your reply, perhaps the man’s harsh edge ran deeper.

“The waiting room never has had more than like four people in it at a time,” you explained. “Until this week, until you, I waited by myself. So, you’re new.”

“Great powers of observation,” he quipped, though his tone lacked any lightness typical of teasing.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his gloved hands against the tops of his thighs. He looked towards the twin pair of doors that fed into Dr. Raynor’s and Dr. Briam’s respective offices. You smiled to yourself at the sight: a big man, an otherwise scary man was nervous for therapy. You could sympathize as, not too long ago, you had been in his place.

“Was it an intervention? A work note? An epiphany?”

At your questions, the man fixed his gaze on you again. “What?”

“What brought you to the services of Raynor and Briam?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” While his voice was without a cutting coldness, his question wounded you. You overstepped your bounds. Time to wage a retreat.

“Sorry,” you murmured as you curled up and in your seat.

You looked away from the man in the hopes of distracting yourself from the searing shame. Quickly, your attention found the colorful pile of untouched magazines set out on a nearby side table. Despite your apology, you could still feel the sharpness of his eyes on you.

When you grew back the nerve and snuck a glance back at him, the man’s gaze was still fixed on you. Alarms rang in your ears as you turned to face him from across the waiting room once more. For a long moment, you just gawked at each other, waited for the other to speak.

Finally, the tension broke and, simultaneously, you both said, “sorry.”

A breathy laugh slipped past your lips, tilted and light. “Talking isn’t one of my strong suits.”

“Not mine either, not anymore,” the man sighed. However faint, there were slight, upward pullings at the corners of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but close. Close enough that you felt a hopeful realization bloom in your chest. How handsome he would look with a real smile.

You met his eyes and asked, “can...can we just start over?”

“Yeah, yeah we can.”

“Great,” you reached out your right hand towards him, across the vastness of the waiting room like an olive branch. “I’m Y/N.”

He glanced from your hand to your eyes and back again before he hesitantly extended his left. The tips of your fingers brushed and you saw the man’s body tense. After a moment passed, he joined your hands. His grip was strong and tight and, despite the glove, cold.

“Hi, Y/N.” Against your will, a fuller smile played on your lips, satisfied by how smooth your name sounded in his mouth. “I’m Bucky.”

II. Ask open-ended questions.

“How would you describe yourself?”

“What?”

“How would you describe yourself?” You echoed, a little louder than the first time.

“What do you mean?”

With a groan, you stood from your seat and strode over to where Bucky sat across from you. You settled in the seat beside him and held the magazine you were reading out to him. Empathetically, you pointed at the first question of the lifestyle quiz you found. Bucky squinted at the small typography and scoffed.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s a quiz in a magazine,” you pointed out, “it’s not supposed to make sense.”

“But am I a ‘curious cat stalking along a window sill’ or a ‘peaceful breeze blowing through a seashell windchime’? What...what does that even mean?” Bucky glanced from the page to you with furrowed brows.

“Which one speaks to you?”

“I don’t know. Is there a dejected crocodile or something?”

You laughed at his question, at the imagery of a saddened gator, and fought to catch your breath. When you finally were able to fill your lungs and meet Bucky’s gaze, you saw that he was serious. His blue eyes were fixed on you with a stillness that startled you. Curiosity struck you, just as it did the first day you saw him.

“A crocodile? Why a crocodile?” Your eyes flicked over Bucky’s face, trying to read his reaction to your query. He met your gaze before he pulled back and sighed.

“I saw some in Africa when I...I lived there. They seemed hostile.”

“You’re hostile?” You raised a brow at him as you asked. You made a mental note to ask him about his stint in Africa later.

Bucky met your eyes and replied, “when provoked. When I don’t have a choice.”

“Well that’s not dark or ominous,” you jeered. When he didn’t make a quip back at you, you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You’re here for anger issues then?”

A heavy sigh rolled through Bucky’s chest. He looked away, up towards the windows of the waiting room that were put far too high along the grey wall, too high to reach. Then, all at once, he was far away, lost in thoughts and feelings you were not privy to, despite longing to be. There was something about Bucky that was still a mystery to you and carried the same spark of newness that endeared you to him.

“There were times where I lost control,” he admitted as he looked back at you. “I’m trying to make amends.”

“Sounds like it was an intervention that brought you here.” You silently hoped that your teasing would lessen the sudden tension that grew between you.

“It wasn’t an intervention,” he replied, his eyes drifting back up towards the window.

You frowned at his distant expression. It hit you, in that moment, that Bucky was still a stranger. His truth, his truths, were still hidden to you. You wanted to ask him so many questions but you knew better than to venture too far. The first exchange you had with Bucky taught you that.

So, instead, you turned in the chair beside him and held out the magazine so you both could read through the next few quiz questions. You had to start somewhere.

“I’m putting you down as a ‘curious cat’,” you said, “you seem like a cat guy. Aloof.”

Following your statement, a hum of amusement reached your ears. You glanced at Bucky and saw that the softest of smiles rested on his lips. Pleased with yourself, you looked back to the magazine and read off the next question.

“Alright so, ‘Reach back to your inner-child and ask yourself: what do you want to be when you grow up’, Bucky?”

“Is ‘just okay’ an option? Or ‘happy’?”

III. Never get too personal.

“You’re late.”

“I had an errand,” Bucky replied as he fell into the seat beside you. His seat.

“An errand? What are you, fifty?”

“I wish.”

“What? You want to be older?” You eyed Bucky warily.

“Youn-” he met your gaze and saw the confusion in your face. “Nevermind.”

“You’re a strange one, Bucky...Bucky...what’s your last name?”

“Nunya,” he replied, without missing a beat; but you knew this joke. You raised a brow at him and released a long, unamused sigh through your nose.

“Nunya business?”

“Damn right.”

There was a bitter, closed-lip smile on Bucky’s face as he spoke. Despite the expression, his eyes did not linger long on you. At the angle you sat at, you thought you saw his slightly upturned mouth fall, too easily, into a frown. You assumed that it was because you ruined his extremely outdated joke.

Gently, you bumped your shoulder against his. “We gotta get you new material.”

“Or what? People will think I’m fifty?”

He met your gaze with a bored look on his face. In spite of your best efforts to reply with a quick, witty retort, you found yourself immersed in Bucky’s presence. His cerulean eyes never left yours and you felt your resolve begin to melt. Your eyes flicked across his face, to his scruff-covered jaw and soft pink lips. It took all of your strength to meet Bucky’s eyes again and form a somewhat full sentence.

“Not looking as good as you do.”

You meant to fire it back, make it sting despite your words being more of a compliment than an insult. But the words were soft, a murmur that contained too much of your heart, and betrayed your true thoughts. You felt that truth and quickly averted your gaze to the too-high windows. Bucky let out a pleased huff.

“Careful. That almost sounded like flattery, Y/N...Y/N...what’s your last name?”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, yeah, I get it. None of my business.”

A strained silence fell over the two of you. The dulled ticking of the waiting room clock soaked in the empty space that your voices once filled. Part of you feared that Bucky could hear the pounding of your heart. You were all too aware of the steady, thundering thumping in your chest.

In an attempt to muffle or overshadow the wild beating of your heart, you asked, “have you been given therapy homework yet?”

“Sort of,” Bucky replied, “kind of. It’s more self-assigned.”

“You’re an overachiever, then, huh?”

Your teasing, the distance your humor put you at, restored a level of comfort. In it, you felt confident enough to meet Bucky’s eyes. As you turned, your gaze trailed up his chest, skimmed along the cozy-looking material of his grey shirt. A striking glimpse of metal caught your attention, but Bucky’s voice coaxed your eyes to his.

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” he sighed, and he raised his hands. “I’m pretty average.”

“I doubt that,” you scoffed as you shook your head.

“Really?”

You turned your head to meet Bucky’s eyes and, again, you felt the thumping in your chest hasten. “Really.”

“Bold of you to assume. You don’t even know my last name.”

“Yet,” you pressed, “you’ll spill it to me one of these days. You may look good, but you also look like you need the therapy. We’ll be seeing each other often.”

A stunted laugh slipped out of Bucky’s mouth. He rarely laughed. If you could get half a smile out of him you were pleased. So, when a chuckle did slip, you savored the sound.

You let yourself watch him, how his head tilted back slightly when he looked up to the windows of the waiting room. It was then you saw the glint of a metal chain around his neck. You traced the shining material with your gaze until you saw the two dog tags that rested against his chest. The lapel of his jacket nearly obscured them, but you managed to read one in full.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Sargent. Camp Lehigh. DOB: 1917.

Based on the year, the date of birth, it had to be a relative, a grandfather, or an uncle, with the same name. As well as the same nickname? However strange it was, you knew Bucky’s last name: Barnes. Yet, you would wait for him to tell you himself. He would, one day.

IV. Practice active listening.

He was quiet, more so than usual.

When you walked into the waiting room, Bucky was already there, sat in his seat. When you greeted him, he didn’t respond. He only nodded and leaned heavily against the back of his chair. It didn’t take long for you to note the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and the more prominent lines of his face. The evidence of his lack of sleep was clear.

“You alright?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what Raynor is for. But I’m here if you change your mind,” and, added as an afterthought, “if you need me.”

Bucky didn’t say a word. His gaze remained fixed on the wall ahead, the black greyness that stood like stone across from you. Worry struck your chest with a sudden ache. It didn’t help that his silence stung. All-day you looked forward to seeing Bucky, but he was so far away.

Even when you looked at him, Bucky seemed small. Almost as if he were sat a few seats down rather than in the one right beside yours. You raked your eyes over his form, desperate for any sign that he was present, in the moment with you. As you drank him in, Bucky remained unmoved and as out of reach as the waiting room windows.

Aside from the exhaustion clear on his face, he held himself as he normally did. There was a slight slouch in his shoulders, that would disappear when he stood, and his arms rested against the supports the chair provided. Your eyes graced over his chest. Beneath his standard dark jacket, he wore a charcoal grey shirt and, if you looked long enough, you thought you saw his dog tags sticking out against the fabric. He kept them hidden, except for the last time you saw him.

Aside from his tired appearance, Bucky looked the same. Had it been just a rough night? Or did something happen? Outside of the waiting room, you knew little to nothing about Bucky. You considered Googling him, just to see what would pop up. Maybe he had an Instagram or a Facebook you could stalk; though the thought of seeing him with his arm slung over some old lover made your stomach churn. It was better to keep the Internet’s knowledge about Bucky Barnes a secret despite how desperately you wanted to know more.

The temptation to ask him, prod him to get some sort of answer, or answers, was strong. To combat it, you picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated. Not your first choice, but you needed to ease the itch of curiosity. Plus, the post-Blip world was a wild one, even for professional sports teams.

Feigning interest in the politics of football proved more difficult than you first imagined. Like the rest of the world, the realm of sports was floundering with its struggle to manage newly returned players and the teams they scraped together during their five-year absence. You began to wonder which half Bucky found himself with. Had he disappeared or had he remained? You still were unsure as to which was better.

It was part of why you used the therapy services Dr. Briam provided. Was that why Bucky met with Dr. Raynor? Just as your mind started to wander through every possibility, your quiet companion shifted in his seat. You looked over to him only to find his eyes were fixed on you.

“Nightmares,” he murmured. Your brows furrowed and you felt a frown form on your lips.

“Do you want to talk about them?”

Bucky hesitated and you saw the glimmer of a maybe in his eyes before he replied with another curt, “no.”

“Okay. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the carpeted floor below his booted feet. You looked at the same spot but saw nothing. Slowly, you returned your gaze to Bucky, studied how his left arm rested near your right one. He was closer now, and you wanted to keep him that way.

Carefully, almost as if you were reaching out to a wounded animal, you extended your right hand. Your fingertips brushed against his left forearm and Bucky flinched. At his movement, you paused, looked to his face for permission. His eyes were stilled fixed on the floor and you could almost hear him slipping so far away again, crashing into the untamable waves his nightmares left in their wake.

To anchor him, you grabbed his hand. You didn’t squeeze, fearing it would be too much. You simply held his left hand in your right and silently marveled at how cool it felt beneath the material of his glove. A moment passed and Bucky didn’t react. You took a deep breath and resigned yourself back to the uninteresting issue of Sports Illustrated in your free hand.

A minute of silent reading went by when you felt his grip tighten around your hand. You didn’t dare to say a word. You only listened to the shuddering relief of his next breath.

V. Put your phone away.

“What was that?”

“My phone.”

“Really? I thought it was a lightbulb,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m aware it’s a phone.”

“How could I forget your great powers of observation.” Playing into your mild offense, Bucky feigned a frightfully embarrassed slap to his forehead.

“Funny,” you grumbled, “but it looked like you had a shit ton of missed calls.”

“Were you spying on me?”

You raised your hands in defense. “You pulled the phone out and the appallingly long list of uncleared notifications disgusted me.”

“I can’t figure out how to clear them.”

“You just swipe and then there’s a little ‘Clear’ button you press.” Bucky frowned and reached back into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his phone and held it out to you. Dumbfounded by this action, you glanced up from the dark screen and back to Bucky’s eyes. He gestured to the device and nodded.

“Can you show me?”

“Uh, I, yeah. Yeah, I can. Can you um-”

“Oh,” Bucky pulled his phone back to him and typed in the passcode to unlock it. When he handed it back to you, you were met with a horribly unorganized home screen and a messaging app icon with over a hundred missed texts. You glanced up from the phone and to Bucky, ready to teasingly chastise him for the state of his device.

But, when you moved to look him in the eyes, you nearly knocked your head against his. He was leaning over, close to your shoulder, prepared to study your message-clearing technique. Though, when your eyes fell to him, his attention was refocused on you. In that instant, a rush of warmth overwhelmed your senses.

He was so close you could smell the leather of his jacket and whatever generic brand soap he used in the shower. You could also feel his breath dance along the skin of your face and neck. It stirred goosebumps to life and sent a shiver down your spine. In an effort to suppress the tremble that threatened to overtake you, you turned your eyes back to his phone.

“So, all you need to do is drag down the top screen and,” you quickly walked him through the steps of clearing his message notifications. A lot were from someone named Sam, who asked how Bucky was, where he was, and if he was attending a memorial service or not. Before you saw too much, you handed Bucky his phone back.

“That’s it?” He mirrored your movements and old messages began to disappear off his screen.

“Yup,” you breathed, “just like that.”

“Alright, but then how do I add a new contact?”

“You really don’t know how to do that? How old are you?” You held out your hand and he wordlessly placed his phone back in your grasp. “You just click on ‘Contacts’ and hit ‘Add New Contact’ and put in their information.”

“You should put yours in.”

Another rush of heat washed over and through you as you looked up at Bucky. There was a startling seriousness in his face, lessened only by the hints of a smile on his lips. Your mouth opened but no words came out. At least, not at first.

“What?”

“Your number, you should give me your number. If you want.”

“Y-Yeah.” In a numbed, almost mechanical manner, you entered your contact information before you handed back his phone. “There I am.”

“There you are,” Bucky echoed softly. He barely met your eyes but he didn’t seem unnerved, at least not as shaken as you felt. He was perfectly and horribly unfazed by the implications of his words. Or maybe you were reading into it. So much of Bucky was still a mystery to you. He still hadn’t told you his last name!

But you knew of his nightmares. You didn’t know the names of the ghosts that haunted him, but you knew they existed and that they scared him. It didn’t scare you. You had your own skeletons, and you held in your heart some strange longing to know his.

As if hoping to sneak a glance at them, you gazed up at Bucky. His eyes found yours in an instant and you wondered if he was ready and willing to talk to you about his nightmares. Or maybe he was finally going to tell you his last name. Or just tell you something about him.

Just as his pink lips parted, the door to Dr. Raynor’s office opened with a click. The small, otherwise unnoticed sound, snapped the tension that budded between you and Bucky.

In turn, you and Bucky, looked over to find Dr. Raynor. She poked her head out from behind the door, just as she had many times before. Her dark-framed glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose as she eyed Bucky, sending him a silent, eerie greeting. She looked as frightening and hawk-like as ever.

“Ready for you,” she deadpanned.

Bucky nodded and stood from his chair. You watched him walk over towards Dr. Raynor’s door. It nearly broke your heart when he didn’t look back at you, though you weren’t quite sure why.

VI. Longing.

You wiped at your eyes as you strode out of Dr. Briam’s office. Knowing full well that Bucky wasn’t in the waiting room, as his sessions with Dr. Raynor started earlier than yours with Briam, you charged towards the door. The next two clients that sat in the plush chairs eyed you and the tears streaming down your cheeks as you passed by.

You were long past caring about what anyone else thought. Hell, you barely noticed their thrown gazes as you pushed open the door to the office building and stomped out into the daylight. Once you were stood on the top stair, you took a deep breath. You felt your lung swell and, as you held in the air for a few more seconds, you imagined your every anxiety being pushed out with your long exhale.

Dr. Briam’s technique helped as you felt your shoulders sink with a sudden, but not total, loss of tension. Tears still slipped down your cheeks as you made your way down the stairs. You wiped at them as you started your journey home. Home, yes, there you could curl up and disappear for a few hours. That was what you needed.

Everything and everyone else was too much. Well, nearly everyone else.

Still walking at a fast pace, you barely noticed the blur of dark clothes that stepped towards you. That was until you felt someone grab your upper arm. You nearly shrieked and prepared to make a scene when you looked up. A pair of cerulean blue eyes found your gaze and almost instantly eased your panic.

“Bucky! You scared the shit out of me!”

He let go of your arm and raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Why are you lingering?” You asked, fixing your slightly disheveled clothes. Relatively satisfied with your handiwork, you focused back on Bucky. His eyes had never left your figure. “Bucky?”

“I...you seemed quiet today and I didn’t ask about it. So, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright but,” he reached out a brushed a tear from your cheek, “you’re not.”

“Is anyone really ever alright?” You forced a smile to your lips, an expression that Bucky mirrored sympathetically before he frowned. “I’m fine. You can go, you’re probably busy.”

You thought bitterly of the mystery person, Sam.

“At least let me walk you home.”

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman,” you joked, silently hoping that it would deter him. Yet, Bucky lingered and looked at you as seriously as ever. “Okay.”

Quickly, Bucky fell into step at your side as you maneuvered through writhing throngs of people on their way to and from. Every so often, your hand knocked against his gloved one and made your insides twist. The twisting turned to aching on the occasions where Bucky held your elbow and guided you around a particularly messy bunch of commuters.

“You walked this way for each session?”

“Each session,” you replied, looking up at Bucky. “Why?”

“Jus’ seems really busy.”

“It’s not always this bad. Plus, there’s a nice little park down over, oh! Right here.”

You stopped and gestured to a small fountain surrounded by benches. Manicured green knolls of grass and scattered, flowering trees surrounded the little park, which was empty compared to the streets. You glanced at Bucky and nudged his shoulder with yours.

“Sit with me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded and he let you guide him over to one of the benches. With a huff, you sat down and he followed suit. The wooden planks of the bench creaked under his added weight and, as if ushered by the sound, Bucky leaned closer to you.

You watched him as he took in your new surroundings. It looked as if he were surveying the area for any threats that could be hiding in the shadows. Perhaps that was why Bucky was such an enrapturing mystery to you: he always looked ready for a fight. Like his dejected crocodile, he was just waiting to be provoked. You were ready to do just that after weeks of tiptoeing around him.

“You never told me,” you said softly. Your voice coaxed Bucky’s eyes to yours.

“Told you what?”

“Why you came to Dr. Raynor.”

Bucky frowned and after a long pause he sighed. “A court order.”

“A court order? That’s…impressive? I don’t know the context, so, I can’t, and won’t, judge.”

Bucky let out a breathy, almost nervous-sounding chuckle as his gaze fell to the pavement. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I think if you did, you would judge.”

You furrowed your brows and waited for Bucky to look back at you. When he did, you felt your breath catch. In the sunlight, his eyes seemed brighter. Though, the heaviness of his knitted brow stole away their shine. He really believed you would judge him, after everything?

“Try me.”

“Y/N-”

“I want to know.” Bucky frowned but you pressed on. “I want to know you, Bucky.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re...interesting. Equally annoying and mysterious. It helps that you’re,” you sighed, “you’re good-looking too.”

A smile, the biggest you had ever seen Bucky put spread along his lips. His gaze fell to the sidewalk bashfully before he met your eyes once more. You thought back to the day you met and found yourself breaking out into a grin. He did look handsome when he really smiled.

“I’m nothing compared to you,” Bucky replied. “Talkin’ about both good-looking and annoying.”

“Then you know I won’t stop pestering you until you start to share,” you shifted towards him. “I want to know who you are, Bucky.”

His eyes flickered down from yours to your lips and back again. “What if I don’t really know myself?”

“Then start with what you do know.” You held out both of your hands towards him. Bucky glanced down at your open palms. When he met your gaze you saw a glint of fear that quickly melted into, what you could only describe as, relief.

Wordlessly, Bucky lifted his hands and began to peel off his gloves. First was his right. The sight of fingers made you strangely giddy. You had never seen the skin of his hands before. Then, he moved to his left and, finger by finger, he pulled the glove off. Sleek, shining, and metal, Bucky’s left hand was exposed.

You inhaled sharply at the sight but did not flinch away. Instead, you met Bucky’s eyes again and nodded. Carefully, he grabbed both of your hands in his. The contrast of his warm flesh and the cool, steel-like material sent a shock down your spine. You studied your joined hands before you looked back up at Bucky. A trembling breath rattled in his chest.

“I am James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. I’m from Brooklyn and I used to be the Winter Soldier.”

[yanderart]

   Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo). 

-------

   You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset. 

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut. 

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold. 

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them. 

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

   But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight. 

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most  ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves. 

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night. 

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year. 

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.  

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality. 

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

   In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder. 

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment. 

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough. 

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted. 

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand. 

 A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk. 

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

   Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking,  chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead. 

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web. 

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.  

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas. 

   How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps. 

   Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.  

   Government lies and why they matter. 

   Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl). 

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum. 

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

   Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter. 

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

   I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question. 

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior. 

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen. 

   I just think it's amazingThe things you know

   How you share them with everyone

   The way you see through the lies

   I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation. 

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping. 

   I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too. 

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded. 

   I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros. 

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself. 

   I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out. 

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

   That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything? 

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

   Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either. 

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing. 

   So you really are a n00b then. 

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever. 

   And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game. 

Be more like you, you left unsaid. 

   So am I your senpai then? 

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback. 

   You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

   I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now. 

   Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind... 

   I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views. 

A welcomed change in topics. 

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

   Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you. 

   Well, yah. You make compelling arguments. 

   Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before. 

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins. 

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving. 

   I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath. 

   I can help you with that. 

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit. 

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point. 

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you. 

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

   Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust. 

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second. 

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well. 

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him. 

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required. 

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises. 

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap. 

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path. 

。。。。。

    Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.   

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand. 

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least. 

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner. 

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place. 

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness. 

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside. 

   Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you  received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you. 

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever. 

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

   And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well. 

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant. 

   I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up. 

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

   ...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together. 

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy. 

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there. 

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was. 

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance. 

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor. 

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" 

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back. 

。。。。。                                                      

   The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.  

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame. 

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest. 

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently. 

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.  

   Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time. 

   This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

   Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.  

   i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch. 

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated. 

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

   Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent. 

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with. 

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed. 

   and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement. 

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in. 

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.  

   Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against. 

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves. 

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

   how the fck did u get that

   I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats 

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

   You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as. 

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

   fucking delete that right now, man.

   this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT. 

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle. 

And he was doing it all in your name.

   Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to. 

   y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing. 

   They're a friend. 

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone. 

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments. 

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way. 

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

   Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.  

   Anything for you, [Y/N]. 

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture. 

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips. 

You truly looked angelic like that. 

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after. 

。。。。。                                                   

    But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present. 

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

   Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently. 

   Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

   Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods. 

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start. 

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you. 

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you. 

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived. 

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

 。。。。。

    Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago. 

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into. 

   Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

   You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face. 

   Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto. 

   Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I? 

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation. 

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating. 

。。。。。

   On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier. 

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive. 

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest. 

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit. 

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony. 

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

   In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements. 

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was. 

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable. 

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves). 

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline. 

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend. 

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements. 

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live. 

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self. 

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle. 

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com. 

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring. 

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by. 

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth. 

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions. 

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building. 

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

   Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe. 

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic. 

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors. 

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that. 

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.  

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief. 

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure. 

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space. 

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet. 

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second. 

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place. 

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours. 

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action. 

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer. 

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages. 

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing. 

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind. 

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle. 

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it. 

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you. 

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite. 

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.    

。。。。。

   Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass. 

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled. 

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.  

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place? 

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper. 

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit. 

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you. 

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued. 

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to. 

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your  judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt. 

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time. 

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept. 

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation. 

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him. 

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans. 

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along. 

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways. 

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin. 

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not. 

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt. 

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them. 

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips. 

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole. 

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting. 

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer. 

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills. 

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning. 

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you. 

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down. 

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

   He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___; 

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni​, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight  😠 👑