Im Gonna Redesign Raiden Shogun Cuz For Me She Doesnt Give Me The Intimidation That She Is Supposed To

Good news people I got accepted into university to study medicine

I didnt think I would like to study Medicine cuz its so long and I thought biomedical engineering was my call but idk

I feel excited

My reaction this morning to getting accepted

prompt: You've been so good for me. Don't ruin it like this.

cws for yandere, self mutilation, imprisonment, mentions of past violence/abuse.

-

You were tired of being good.

Tired of painting on smiles every morning at your vanity when all you wanted to do was scream, cry and curl into a ball. Tired of leaning into his touches even though it made your stomach twist and turn in the worst way. Tired of pretending as if you didn't loathe him with your entire being—as if you wouldn't rather die than have to spend another day isolated with him.

Alhaitham regards you with a placid look, and you tighten your hold on the jagged shard of glass in your hand. It easily slices through the skin on your palm--and it hurts, it stings and burns and you immediately want to throw the cause of your pain away and cradle your hand to your chest, but you don't. You grit your teeth and tighten your grip, wincing when it cuts in deeper, droplets of blood making a pitter patter sound as it hits the hardwood floor beneath your feet.

Alhaitham's expression changes then, but not by much. Someone else—someone who hadn't been forced to learn everything that made him tick out of necessity for their own wellbeing—wouldn't know what to look for, or even if they did, they wouldn't be able to spot it.

But you could, even if you wished you couldn't.

Alhaitham wasn't a man that was easily angered, never giving others enough power in his life to do anything besides mildly annoy him, but somehow, you were an exception. Ever since he had brought you here (where, you still weren't sure), gagged, bound, and drugged, it seemed as though his default emotion had been anger.

It was largely due to you, as he so often told you, but you failed to understand how that was your fault exactly. He had tricked you, taken you from your home —Mondstadt, of all places, the city of fucking freedom— and he had just expected you to accept your new life without any complaints? Tough fucking luck.

You couldn't win against him physically, but you had tried. His advances were fended off with kicks, punches and the dragging of your nails across his skin, and when you had been unable to use your limbs, you had even resorted to lashing out with your teeth. You never won these shows of strength, of course, but you had always felt a bit better after whatever transpired when you could see the marks of your anger littering his body.

After all the fighting and screaming had gotten you nowhere, you had decided to take on a different approach. You had became exactly what he wanted you to be; sweet, pliant, respectful, docile, weak.

Everything was 'Yes, Alhaitham', or 'Of course, Alhaitham', 'I'm sorry for hurting you, Alhaitham', 'Yes, I love you, too, Alhaitham'. It had been nauseating saying those words, and some days you feared you'd spew up vile with the way your stomach seemed to churn, but it had been worth it.

Despite how intelligent Alhaitham liked to believe himself to be, he was still a mentally disturbed man who longed for your affection, for reasons you couldn't even begin to fathom, because really, you were nothing special, or at least nothing special enough to abduct and keep locked away like some invaluable treasure.

"Are you planning to use that on me?" His eyes flit down to the shard that's steadily cutting into your palm, and with the way his jaw tightens and his eyebrows crease, you grow curious and want to check as well, but you don't dare take your eyes off of him. He's fast, quiet, nimble, and he'll be on you in a second, and then all those days you spent being his mindless doll will have been for nothing.

"No." You would have tried it when you were first brought here, but you knew now that you couldn't outfight or outsmart him. "I'm going to use it on myself."

The floorboard creaks underneath his weight, and before you could even finish your sentence, he was dashing forward with an outstretched hand, but you had been anticipating that. '

The glass is warm against your neck as it pushes against your throat, and Alhaitham freezes in his spot, Adam's apple bobbing and eyes rapidly blinking as he takes a step back. "You're being ridiculous."

"Fuck you." His eye twitches.

That would have earned you at least two days in an immediate "timeout", which consisted of you being locked into a windowless room with nothing but an hourglass filled with sand to keep you company.

"Threatening to mutilate yourself in an effort to make me let you go? That's such a stupid idea. You cry like a child at the least severe punishments, and now I'm supposed to believe that you'll slit your own throat if I—" He abruptly cuts himself off when you begin to drag the shard across your throat, and Gods--it really does hurt. Just like with your hand, it burns and it stings and you want to throw the cause of your pain to the side and allow yourself to be bolted in that miserable room. You know that he'll patch you up and stop the bleeding, and you almost relent, but you don't, you can't, so you push the shard in deeper, even as you cry out and sob, knees knocking together as you stumble back into the wall.

"L-Let me go. I want to go home." You gargle out, hands shaking and vision blurry as you blink away your tears. "I want to go home!"

"This is your home."

"No, it isn't! I live in Mondstadt! My home is in Mondstadt—" Talking disturbs the wounds on your neck, and you moan and groan at the pain, letting the pressure up just a bit. You had been fully prepared to off yourself if this final lunge for freedom fell short, but you hadn't anticipated just how much it'd hurt. It burns, it really fucking burns.

"Your home is—"

"Shut. Up."

"—here. With me. You'll always be with me. There is no leaving, no matter how much you've deluded yourself into thinking that there is. You're not going anywhere unless I take you there."

Alhaitham had once said that you were weak-willed. You couldn't remember what you had did that resulted in the attack on your character, but you think he may have been correct.

His words are spoken with an absoluteness that chills you to your core, and for a few seconds that horrible burning can't be felt. You're not leaving. He'll never let you leave—you failed again—this was foolish, just as he said—you won't be able to go home, not now, not ever—you really should just drive the shard in until you can't think anymore, but you're weak-willed, just like Alhaitham said.

Your hand is pulled away from your neck, and then the shard is carefully freed from your fingers before you hear it shatter on the floor. Something thick is pressed against your throat --a piece of clothing, you realize-- and hot tears race down your cheeks as you're led to the bathroom.

"And we're right back to square one."

-

Wishing you a very merry Christmas and a happy holiday to you and your loved ones 💖🎄🎅🎁✨️

OMG YOU ARE SO SWEET

Merry Christmas to you too and have fantastic holidays!💕❤️✨🎆🌌

Xavier Oathsant

BLD character by @hotpinkmoon

I felt like Xav isnt getting the spotlight enough

It looks a bit awful but meh

POV: you made Xavier jealous and now you are haunted 🥶

The way things were before (Platonic Yandere Muzan x reader)

This was inspired by the last episode of the latest season where we get some Muzan lore. This is kinda my first time writing real angst so tell me what you think. Keep in mind this is based on the anime and I haven't actually read the manga.

Check out my other works here: Masterlist.

Anger.

Ever since Muzan was young, one emotion he always felt was anger. It stuck to him like a tumor, destroying him from the inside out.

He felt anger for his illness that prevented him from having a real life. He felt anger for having to be tested on by doctors nearly daily. He felt anger that people looked down upon him as he grew weaker and weaker. But more importantly, he felt anger that nothing changed. He never got better, he never got stronger, no matter how much time went by.

As he aged, and his illness got worse, Muzan accepted the fact that his anger, his hatred for everyone would never leave him.

That was, until he found you. His beautiful, wonderful child, the only thing that could quell the rage inside of him.

You weren't his biologically, no, but that didn't matter to him. Before he was too sick to leave his bed, Muzan found you orphaned living on the streets and took you in. Ever since, you've been repaying him by taking care of him.

"Father, it is time to take you medicine." There you were, right on time. Muzan refused to take his medicine from anyone else, even his most notable doctors.

He was too weak to sit up, simply moving his head to acknowledge you, watching as you sat down in front of him. Muzan didn't complain as you moved his head so the medicine could travel done his throat more smoothly.

Once done, you lay his head back down, putting the small bowl down next to you, blessing him with a kind smile. "How are you feeling today father?" You question.

"I'm doing fine now that you are here, my child." You giggle, the smile reaching your eyes. A small smile graces Muzan's face at your happy demeanor. Even if it is only for a second, Muzan is happy.

"Oh, I almost forgot." You gasp, "The doctor has new medicine for you, he wanted to give it to you himself."

Muzan let out a childlike groan, rolling over to face the balcony. It was beautiful outside, but Muzan couldn't help but feel annoyed. The sun was too bright, the wide was too strong, the birds were too loud. Even the thought of having to interact with his doctor for a second caused his blood to boil.

You roll your eyes at him, "Father, you have to take your medicine, the doctor knows better than me." He does move to face you, but you could tell he was annoyed.

"The doctors are incompetent." He moves back on his back; his brows cross in frustration. "They have been treating me for years, but here I remain, trapped in by bed." He laments.

You frown at his words, looking away from your father with sorrow. You remember a time when he was still healthy enough to spend time with you, your favorite days being when he would grow flowers with you, teaching you about their meanings and medical uses. But now, just standing was enough to strip him of all his strength.

You've been forced to watch as your father grows more resentful for the people around him, hating his doctors, maids, even gardeners for simply existing, being able to live the life he most desperately wanted. On days where his illness is at his worse, he mumbles about wanting to destroy them all, something you assumed was delirium caused by the medicine.

Even though your father has changed, you still love him, and you can't help but see him as the carefree, happy man he was when you were younger, even now. It's why you so desperately want him to get better, so that maybe you could go back to the way things once were.

"Father, I promise they just want to help." You try and talk some sense into him, though his resolve doesn't budge. You sigh, "it would make me really happy if you let the doctors give you the medicine." You put emphasis on the word really, in hopes it would motivate him. To your luck it did, Muzan moving to face you, sighing at your pleading face.

"Fine." Was all he said, feeling warmth bubble up in him as you smiled. You leaned down and hugged him the best you could.

"Thank you, father." Muzan smiles, happy once more.

---

You haven't visited you father in days, him forbidding you from entering his room a few days after he took the new medicine. You didn't mind though, it probably had some bad side effects, so you left him alone. Though, you couldn't help but question whenever he ordered for a worker to enter his room, especially when you swore, they never left.

Today was the final straw, you had to see your father. Workers had been disappearing left and right, and you knew your father was not going to be happy about it if you kept it from him.

As you get closer and closer to your father's room, a stench more disgusting than anything you've smelt before entered your nose and caused you to gag. You would've thrown up than and their if you didn't cover your mouth quickly.

The smell only got worse as you slowly crept towards the door, it nearly becoming unbearable. You swallowed down you fear as you knocked at the door. You could hear the faint sounds of crunching, like someone was chewing on something tough which made heartbeat against your ribs.

"F-father, are you in there." The chewing stopped and your heart sank. Your hands shook as you heard someone move towards the door. Slowly, the door opened, revealing your father covered in blood. He smiled down at you creepily, a stark contrast between the horror that covered your face.

Muzan moves to cup your cheek in his hand, blood smearing on your face. He could hear your fearful breathing coming from your nose as you inhale and exhale in rapid succession. He rubs your cheek, trying to calm you down as you look into his room, seeing the mangled-up bodies behind him. Your breathing became even more erratic at the sight, Muzan simply sighing with a frown.

"(Y/N), you don't understand-"

"You killed them, father." You whisper, backing away from him.

"I am much stronger now; I can protect you." You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. What was he talking about?

"You killed them." Your repeat you back hitting the wall. Muzan was directly in front of you, looking down intimidatingly. For the first time in your life, your father scared you.

"I had to, my child." He answers, his voice calm, but you could sense his annoyance. "It's the only way I can remain strong."

You don't say anything as he moves closer, hugging you into his chest as your world went dark.

---

It's been years since that day.

Your now older, more aware of the situation you're in. You father was now a demon, forced to consume humans in order to live. You realized quickly it was from the medicine the doctor gave him, and you curse him everyday for doing so.

He took your home from you, forcing you and your father out of your village. He took your life from you, forcing you to remain hidden with you father. Most importantly, he took your father from you, him now a husk of the man he once was.

Along with the myriad of strange side effects, your father couldn't go out in the day, the sun causing him immense pain, one of the only few things that could hurt him.

You learned to treasure the mornings, them being the few hours away from your father. While he was busy learning all he could about his aliment, you were trying to maintain the image of a normal human being. Working, socializing, anything you could do to forget about the atrocities your father committed when the sun set.

You wish things would go back to the way they were before.

"-N)? (Y/N)?" Oh, you were in the hospital, getting blood work done. You look over at the doctor in front of you, him attempting to get you attention.

You've been feeling terrible for the past few days, constant headaches, hot flashes, soreness. You could barely move without pain. You got blood work done, now waiting for the results with anticipation.

"I just wanted to ask you a question before giving you the news." His voice is solemn, not giving you a good feeling. "Does your family have any history of illness?"

You want to answer yes, but that would we wrong. You're not Muzan's child, so you shouldn't have inherited his illness. "No, my father was plagued with illness years ago, but he's...better now and I'm not his child biologically."

The doctor nodded, looking away dejectedly. When his eyes finally met yours, they were serious, "You've developed a rare blood disease." You heart sinks, but the doctor continues, "I suspect about a month or so is what you have left."

You could feel tears in your eyes, but surprisingly you didn't feel all that sad. Ever since you were young, you've accepted the fact that you would die, it's something you've learned from your times on the streets. The doctor continues talking, but you don't hear a word, to busy wondering how you're going to tell Muzan.

---

"Father, I'm home." No response, but you know he heard you.

On your way home, you accepted that you weren't going to tell Muzan. You knew if you would, he would try to turn you, and you couldn't accept that fate. To you, even death was a better fate than becoming a demon.

You slowly make you way up to your father's study, knocking on the door before entering. Like most days, your father is hunched over his desk, books and papers strewn about.

He doesn't acknowledge you when you enter, even when you move to stand beside him. You take a look at the scientific papers, not understanding a single thing about any of them. The only recognizable thing was the blue spider lily that for some reason was crucial to father.

"How was your appointment?" He doesn't look at you, flipping through pages of a book.

You sigh, shaking your head, "It was fine. Apparently, I was overreacting." You let out an awkward laugh. Muzan nods, before moving his attention back to his book.

It's like he was consumed by this flower, it was the only thing he cared about. You missed you father, even though it's been years since he's felt like one. In a way, you feel like death would be more welcoming than the life you have now, one that is consumed by fear for the man your supposed to feel safe around.

You left without telling you father, silently hoping you wouldn't see him in the morning.

---

Your hopes were not answered.

It's been weak, but death does not come, all that greeted you was endless pain.

Your father found out when you collapsed one morning, and while he was mad you lied to him, he was livid when you refused to be turned into a demon. He's never yelled at you before, it surprised you when he screamed and threatened you, but you didn't change your mind.

In the end, your father was forced to watch you slowly succumb to your illness. You attempted to brighten his mood by framing the situation as repaying you. You took care of him, now he is doing the same. The only difference being you won't make it out in the end.

"Father, do you remember when I was little," You murmur to him; you voice raw and quiet. Your room was dark, blocking out any light so you could barely see your father looking at you. "You used to grow flowers with me." Your giggle sounds almost painful, but the smile on your face was one Muzan had nearly forgotten. "I'd get so sad when mine would die."

He doesn't speak, he can't, "Then you'd tell me not to cry, because death is normal for all living beings." Your voice is getting quieter as you speak, but he doesn't acknowledge it. "You were trying to comfort me about your death, I didn't know that at the time."

Muzan wants you to stop talking, he hates the pain in your voice. "I wish we could go back to the way things were before." You said, before finally going quiet. Muzan hears your breathing stop before letting out a sob.

---

It's been over a thousand years since your death and ever since then, Muzan has been filled with anger.

Anger for this imperfect world that took you away from. Anger at you for refusing the life he could've given you. Anger at himself for making your last few moments miserable.

He doesn't know who to blame for his misfortune, but he knows that if he lets anger consume him, he'll find someone to blame.

Muzan chooses to remember you when you were younger and at your happiest. When he's alone, his mind often wanders to these moments, when you were just a child, so small he was afraid anything would hurt you. He never let you out of his sight, wanting to protect you from the world.

Though in the end, he still lost you.

Since the day you died, Muzan was filled with rage. And he will continue to be until the day he sees you again.

He just wishes things would go back to the way they were before.

---

A/n: I don't even know if this counts as Yandere but whatever.

When i tell you this drawing WILL be the death of me

I love this so much🥺🥺🥺🥺

drew my fav twst character. go gamer boy go

Baby boy is so soft omg

Makes me just want to pat pat his head

"We'll be together, forever! Don't tell Gatherine though, okay?"

Here's some Dawsin facts mwah

✭ Puppyboy

✭ Between 21-22 years old

✭ Harmless, very timid

✭ Barks occasionally, pants when he's excited or hot, shakes

✭ Easily excitable, sensitive

✭ Forbidden from leaving Nighthive alone

✭ Under Gatherine's protection for life, rescued age 18

✭ Extremely unlikely to hurt you, even on accident, but still enjoys playing in blood

✭ Medical school graduate, license revoked

✭ Impressionable, succumbs to peer pressure easily

✭ Addictive personality

✭ Mildly protective, keeps his best friend in line

✭ Sucks at taking care of himself

✭ Often quiet and unassuming, but gets very excited to see creatures he likes

✭ DNA most similar to: Earth's dalmation, cocker spaniel, yorkshire terrier

Sex facts below:

✭ Virgin

✭ Extremely horny and sexually frustrated

✭ Cums fast, can last 2 more rounds

✭ Whimpers when he accidentally bucks into you, squirms a lot

✭ Well-behaved

✭ Will cry if you're too rough

✭ Willing to top or bottom, no preference

✭ Not good at sex so you have to coach him {pensive}

✭ Breathing fleshlight

Absolutely stunning. The amount of detail is so high quality

TW: a lil bit blood

Yandere Floyd ♡

Please don't repost elsewhere ^^

SIDNEYYYYY OMG

I MISSED UR COMICS SOMUCH

Sydney Comic Page 2/5

I really love the scene where you get to yell at him. :3c

Open image in new tab for bigger quality. Edit: Why did no one tell me there was a typo? I fixed it. But golly. Embarrassing. ////