Killer Reactions To A Legally Blind Reader Who Had Their Glasses Stolen From Them During A Trial. (Part

Killer reactions to a legally blind reader who had their glasses stolen from them during a trial. (Part two).

Notes: Non-binary reader. Warnings for minor, non-graphic violence and character injury.

...

Ji-woon

He saw you struggling to walk through the forest, your arms spread out and feet stuttering in caution. Concern invaded, and he quickly ran up to you. When he noticed that you didn't have your glasses on, he asked suspiciously, "Where are your glasses?"

Ji-woon watched as you gasped and tensed up as if expecting an attack, and he frowned in dejection. "Uh? Don't be afraid," He reached down to gently grab your hand, saying reassuredly, "I'll help you escape, yes?"

"You... You'll help me? Really?" You timidly asked, your body still tense, "But... Why?"

"Oh," Ji-woon giggled, grinning big and blushing, "You are my favorite. I like you."

Seeing you gape like a fish caused Ji-woon to giggle even more in fondness and amusement. "You're so cute, (y/n)," He slowly guided you over to some boxes and had you sit down on one, "Wait here. I'll be back soon, uh?"

"O-ok," You nodded, hiding your bashful face, "Thank you."

Man, you were so freakin adorable. Ji-woon grinned maliciously and took off, his blood running hot with vengeance. Vengeance that didn't take but ten minutes to achieve, especially whenever he discovered your glasses broken in David's pocket. Those no good rats.

Returning to your side, Ji-woon reached out for your hand again and smiled, "Ready?"

"Yes," You say softly, blushing as he let you use him for support, "Thank you again."

Ji-woon puffed his chest out in pride. "Anything for you, aleumdaun."

Pinhead/Elliot Spencer

He felt the calling of the lament and, realizing that it was you who was summoning him, he immediately teleported to your location. When he arrived, he spotted you shyly standing near a pallet, your exposed eyes squinted harshly as you cautiously stood your ground.

"You solved the lament configuration," Elliot tilted his head in curiosity and hidden surprise, "But to what cause?"

You hesitated, looking fretful, "You... You said that if I solved the box then I... I would get a reward? Well... I-I want my glasses back. Please? Nea stole them."

A glimmer of a smirk shown within Elliot's piercing black eyes, "You have become bold, I see. Are you to assume that 'returning your glasses' is all I have in mind for you?"

"I..." You gaped, looking horrified and regretful, like you were imagining him torturing you, "I..."

"Stay here," Elliot demanded and briefly turned away. He was able to locate Nea, hook her and retrieve your glasses. When he returned to you, you had the most defeated, hopeless expression on your face, and it tore at his soul.

"I suppose the full extent of your reward can wait until another time," He said in a much more soothing tone than what he usually used, and he handed you your glasses. "I do not enjoy witnessing you treated with disrespect."

Fiddling with your glasses for a moment, you slid them on and looked up at him with flattered yet timid eyes, "Thank you, Elliot. Maybe... Maybe next time?"

Elliot smirked and swiftly turned around to leave, "I will be waiting."

Evan

He saw you walking around calling out for Jake to give you your glasses back and, at first, he chose to ignore you. Surely soon Jake would return them to you. Well...

Apparently not.

Several times Evan had crossed paths with you only to see you struggling every single time, looking lost and helpless. It pulled at his heart and made him angry. How could anyone treat you this way?

Remembering that it was Jake you were calling out for, Evan went and found the traitor, killed him and retrieved your glasses. Then he found you respectfully working on a generator. God... He liked you too dang much.

When you noticed him approaching, you tensed up and bowed your head in miserable acceptance. "Here, darlin'," Evan said, lifting your glasses out, "Think you're missin' these."

"Huh?" You blinked at him, the sight of your exposed eyes doing things to him. Taking your glasses back, you slid them on your face, stammering in gratitude, embarrassment and fear, "Th-thank you. Really. I'm... I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," Evan took a few steps back to help ease your anxiety, "Ain't no one got an excuse good 'nough to treat ya that way."

You whimpered, covering your cheeks with your palms. So adorable. "Thank you."

Evan smiled beneath his mask and turned away, damming Jake for his shenanigans and yet also thanking him at the same time. Let's just say, he really enjoyed this trial.

Pyramid Head/The Executioner

He doesn't know much about human anatomy but he does know that those glass things help you see. He's also good at sensing distress and emotional turmoil, and during this trial you were utterly decomposed unlike usual.

And the Executioner does not appreciate it when his favorite human is in distress, especially when the distress is caused by other guilty, shameful humans.

Leaving you be to your objectives, The Executioner lurks around hooking and searching for something he doesn't quite understand. It's difficult to navigate who has your glasses exactly, and he really does search. He tears apart clothes, he breaks fingers and he even shakes the survivors, but to no avail.

Eventually he hooks the third survivor Claudette and searches for you, discovering you hiding amongst some pillars. When you notice him approaching, you gasp and run straight first into a wall.

With all hope lost, you crouch down and begin to hopelessly cry, humiliation, sadness and frustration steaming from your body.

The Executioner walked closer, stopping before you and bending forward as much as he was capable of. He then dropped an object into your lap.

You jostled in shock, your eyes going wide when you felt what exactly the object was. Glasses. But... Not your glasses. "These... These are Claudettes?" You ask, slipping on the tiny glasses. They barely helped you to see, honestly.

But they would be good enough, and you were grateful for his generosity, "Thank you."

Proud and satisfied, the Executioner nodded, took a few steps away and gazed back at you. Come on. The hatch isn't going to find itself.

Wesker

You're his favorite survivor, so he searches for you first only to find you getting laughed at by Quintin. He had your glasses. You were struggling to chase him, putting up quite a fight until he purposely tripped you and sent you falling face first to the ground.

Oh. Oh, that boy was so done for. Wesker's eyes burned orange, and he flew up to the treacherous nobody, jamming him with uroboros. Quintin screamed and dropped your glasses. Wesker picked them up and finished chasing the coward, hooking him shortly.

By the time he returned to you, he was amused to see you standing and searching around, obviously focused and self-aware. "Tis a pity you can be taken advantage of so easily, (y/n)," Wesker said, twirling your glasses around, "I almost feel sorry for you."

He eagerly awaited a snappy, passionate reaction from you, but was ultimately met with deafening silence. You weren't even looking at him, your head bowed, hands gripping a barrel and your face twisting with hatred and shame.

It was as if you expected the worst out of everyone including him.

"What will I get if I return them to you?" Wesker asked, stepping closer.

You mumbled back, "Just kill me, Wesker. I'm done."

Out of all his time here, Wesker had never, ever seen you give up. It made him... Concerned. "How long has this been going on?" He stopped beside you and handed you your glasses back.

You were taken aback by his kindness and consideration, and you went to put your glasses back on, "A while."

"Well then," Wesker smirked, aching to touch your face, "I suppose we'll need to put a stop to this. Won't we?"

Max

He doesn't really understand what's going on at first. All he knows is that you're really, really struggling. The only reason he can think why is because you didn't have your glasses. Why though? Where were they?

Hesitant, shy and nervous, Max tries his hardest to avoid hooking you. There is one time, however, that he hears you calling out for Feng to give you your glasses back. Ah ha. So Feng took them. That monster. How could she do this?

Max then makes it his number-one priority to catch Feng and return your glasses. It doesn't take him long, but when he throws her over his shoulder, he hears a distinct crack, and panics. Oh... No...

Dropping Feng unceremoniously, Max searches her hoodie and finds your shattered glasses. Noooooooo! No, he broke your glasses. Ah, what was he supposed to do? You were gonna be so mad at him and upset, and you wouldn't be able to see, and he felt so bad. Just- ahhh!

He let you down. Max growled in distress, his chest aching. He really, really let you down. Oh, he was so sorry.

But he wasn't going to hide from you despite every nerve in his body wanting him too. Instead, he killed the rest of the survivors, deserted his chainsaw and hammer, and timidly approached you.

Whenever you noticed him, you covered your face and awaited pain, but felt none. Sensing that he was close, you gaped and whimpered, "Max?"

Wow, your eyes were really pretty. Max blushed, his chest filling with butterflies. He walked forward and gently tapped on your forearm.

"What?" You whispered softly, "I-I can't see, I-I'm sorry."

Even though it hurt him to speak, Max managed to say "hatch". You looked at him with utter gratitude, grabbing onto his offered arm and saying shyly, "Thank you, Max. I-I really appreciate it."

Max smiled and growled happily. Good grief, the 'butterflies'.

Oh my gosh I just read your post about feeling like you don't belong in the slasher fandom and it broke my heart 💔 😭

You absolutely belong here! As someone who also feels like an outsider around other horror fans I totally get it.

You write wonderful fics that I absolutely adore. There is no one certain way to write a slasher. And if someone is giving you crap for not writing a slasher "in canon" let me at them 😤 bc I will fight them for you!!!

Stay awesome and I hope you keep writing!

Hi masqueradeball! Thank you so much for your words of kindness and encouragement. It really means a lot to me. And I'm not just thanking you, I'm thanking EVERYONE who has been kind to me and supported me throughout my journey here in the slasher fandom. You all mean so much to me and I am very grateful to have you as friends ❤️ And knowing that I'm not alone here is a very heavy weight off my chest.

I do apologize for the rant though. I hope I didn't cause you any negative feelings. You stay awesome too, my friend!

Also... Do I sense some Transformers energy coming from your account??? 👀 Sorry, I tend to get excited when I meet other TF fans, especially when they know IDW. Let's rolllllllll! Energon runs through my veins, not blood!

Wow... after all these years I'm still a robot geek...

Vent post.

I promised myself that I would be more open with my viewers, and so here I am. I'm sorry if it's stupid and ridiculous. You really don't have to read this.

I take writing very seriously. Writing is my soul passion. And my bad guy series is one of my favorite series to write for... At least I thought it was. Here recently though, I've been noticing something and it's causing me to become more and more depressed and insecure by the month.

I'm not like everyone else in the slasher fandom. I'm different. And being different is causing me to be depressed.

At first I didn't know it, but I entered a dark fandom that thrives off of bdsm, sex and/or rape, submission and guilty pleasure. And I entered this fandom not liking any of that stuff. I don't like rape or bdsm or sex or submission. I don't even find the killers sexually attractive. But everyone else does. And that's what hurts.

I can't be like everyone else here. I can't make myself feel sexual attraction or enjoy bdsm and rape and all that. And that also means that I can't write any of that stuff either, and that makes me sad. It makes me sad because I can't be what this fandom wants me to be. I'm a disappointment. A dud. Sitting alone in a corner feeling so fucking a shamed and useless and lonesome.

Some times I don't even know what I'm doing here because I start feeling so upset, and I even get the urge to delete my stories. But at the same time I don't want to delete my stories. I want to keep writing and finish them, but gosh... This depression.

I keep asking myself what I'm doing here. I'm not good enough to be here. I mess things up. I don't even write the slashers in canon. What could I ever hope to accomplish in this fandom when I'm the polar opposite of what it stands for?

The only thing that's kept me going is the small group of friends and followers that I've made during my slasher journey. So if you're one of them then please know how grateful I am for you. Every single one of you gives me a reason to breathe inside this crazy fandom, even if breathing isn't what I deserve to do.

Also, this doesn't mean that I'm quitting any of my stories. I'm just venting and being pathetic. I'm so very sorry. I try not to let my feelings show, but here lately... I don't even know anymore.

You can't look at this and tell me that you don't want to hug him.

well here they are uwu

you x clown💖

Bio

Hello lovely person reading this. My name is Weirdo and I'm, as the name implies, a weird author who greatly enjoys writing weird things.

-A little bit about me

I was born in 2001.

I'm asexual.

I live in the USA.

I identify as non-binary but feel free to reference me as any gender you'd like.

Ethnicity? I guess I'm an Irish American.

On Tumblr I probably won't write any kind of sexual content.

If violence is involved in a story and/or drabble then I will tag it and leave a note at the beginning.

I do not take requests.

I am willing to take ideas, but I can't promise how or when I would use the material.

On this account you can mostly expect content about slashers, villains and bad guys. I love creating drabbles and ideas with reader inserts covering topics such as past trauma, mental illness, disability, suicide, sexuality, grief and other lively struggles. What I do is turn the bad guys into protective, strong, emotional supporters who will fight for the readers at any costs. Lots of angst, comfort and love.

My intention is to create an environment where my viewers can connect with the reader-inserts and each other and feel a sense of comfort, understanding and reassurance. No one in this world is alone. I also try to justify the bad guy characters, give them more humanity and consideration so that they can be better emotional supporters.

And I believe that's pretty much it. Welcome to Weirdo's turf. Have ideas to share? Questions to ask? Want me to check out one of your stories and/or artworks? Or maybe you just wanna talk and get something off your mind? Well then don't be afraid to shoot me a message. My door is always open here.

This hit me. I'm asexual too and I'm not interested in nsfw or bdsm. And I feel like some people hate me for that. I feel like an invalid, like I can't be what people want me to be. And it hurts, not fitting in. It hurts so much.

I wanna read an x reader where the reader snuggles with the big, scary, slasher, rather than be fucked by them ruthlessly, but their fanbase likes the latter better, oh well.

I'm kidding around, you can like what you like, I just want to see some diversity in my readings whenever I read x reader mainly because they're the same, exact, thing EVERY TIME. And also beacuse I'm ace, and not attracted to things like that.