Hello, I Come As A Reader From Ao3 And I Just Wanted To Say That I Love Your Writings. The Way You Convey

Hello, I come as a reader from Ao3 and I just wanted to say that I love your writings. The way you convey emotions and human struggles really touched me. I also really appreciate that you write intimacy not necesary in the sexual way. Nowadays it's hard to find stories like these.

I have some questions about some of your stories, but I read that you weren't comfortable talking about some of them, so I will give you all my support instead. You are a great writer!

Hi kuristalyx! I hope you are doing well. I'm so happy that you enjoy my stories for the way they are even without the sexual intimacy. Knowing that my writing makes other people happy makes me happy, and it means so much to me to have your support ❤️

Also, if you have a question about a story, (any story, even if it's "My Saddest Journey") I don't mind answering it. Even after making a post I still have been flooded with questions and comments about "Saddest Journey" from other folks, so I'm beginning to accept defeat. Which is okay. My only request is that, if you do ask a question, is it alright if you send me a message so we can speak privately, please?

Thank you so much again for stopping by. I hope you have a wonderful day ❤️

Herman Is one of my top 3 killers and I love how you write him and make me so happy 💓 I was wondering how was your reaction when you saw him for the first time and how he become your favorite? What was your story?

When I saw him, I was surprised and a little scared and I told myself that I don't want to see him but that's funny because I started to watch his videos and liked him. I like his laugh or how is his power in dbd and Everyone said that It's wrong and horrible. I was nervous because everyone said people who main him are as bad as him and my personality is like your reader fics and so I was sad. But a week later I told myself that I don't care what they say, I like him and Love to see him.

Hi villainfan. First I'd like to tell you that it's perfectly fine to love Herman (or any character for that matter). Never let anyone else ever stop you from loving something that makes you happy.

When I first saw Herman, I was excited. I literally bought dbd for the purpose of learning everything I could about the killers. And I shamelessly admit to playing Herman and purposely shocking survivors just to hear his laugh, but that's... perfectly normal! In terms of his story/background, I do believe that Herman is the cruelest killer there is. He's a non-empathetic, mass murdering, sadistic, neuroscience obsessed freakazoid. BUT... That didn't stop me from making "changes".

When I first started searching for fanfiction with him, everything written with Herman mostly involved rape, abuse and torture, and I just didn't like that. And a bunch of other killers were written that way too. So I allowed myself to unleash my inner crybaby and I made the ultimate decision to start changing the killers' personalities to help make them nicer and more likable. Herman was one of my first test subjects- no pun intended.

The first chapter of 'When a Survivor Bullies' was actually a product of my negative feelings towards how Herman was normally portrayed. Instead of writing him as a rapey, cruel monster with no self control, I gave him all the self control along with kindness, consideration and respect. As I continued to write for that story, you can see how the flower of his personality bloomed. I couldn't resist turning him into a prince charming.

Herman is one of my top favorites because I genuinely enjoy writing him and it makes me happy knowing that my version of him causes people to smile.

Thank you for your question, villainfan. I hope you always continue to have fun playing Herman, and enjoy whatever content you can find with him. And I hope to bring you and many others lots of more content with our lovely, electric prince. ❤️

Hello loves. For future drabbles/killer reactions, I'd like to request your help on ideas please.

What I'm looking for is mainly emotional support concepts, or fluffy ones. I'm not accepting requests, and I can't promise how soon the ideas will be written, but I can promise that I'll try my hardest to put whatever you may offer me to good use.

Here's a list of what I won't write.

- I will not write about racism.

- I will not write sexual content.

- I will not write any underage characters.

- I will not write proshipping material.

I'm sure most of you have seen what and how I write, so if you have any ideas to offer or if you want to see me use a specific concept that interests you, please share. Also, this isn't something I'm pressuring anyone to take part in. I just want to give viewers a chance to be a part of my work.

Thank you and I hope you all have a wonderful day.

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. It's time to spread positivity 💜🧚🏻‍♀️

(Hope you are cool receiving these! Don't have to answer if you don't wanna, after all the star is for you! <3)

Aww, thank you so much, lovesick! I hope you always remember that you are a star yourself, my dear. Much love to you 💐❤️

Silly facts about one of my archive stories 'Reverse The Dancing Knights'.

Hello loves. I hope it's alright if I post this?

Ah, Reverse The Dancing Knights. Possibly the most cruel, angsty, complicated story I've ever written, but man do I love it. Right now it is my favorite story that I'm writing just because of all the unique twists and the sheer difficulty of it. I do believe that it's the most complex story that I've ever made, and it's just... So bizarre. And, for fun, I just wanted to share some silly facts about it.

- To begin, I wanted to share how the idea was inspired, and that was by Jason Voorhees in my story 'Battle of The Imaginary Minds'. I was in the middle of updating a chapter to that story when Jason's vulnerability hit me all of the sudden and made me question, "What if the killers were the ones who needed support instead of the reader?" And so an incredibly violent idea developed inside my head and I wrote it as fast as I could. Thanks Jason!

- Now, onto the story itself. When Bubba was new to the Entity's realm/game was when the survivors kidnapped the killers and began locking them in the Fun House.

- Some of the earlier killers have been traumatized for up to three years.

- The open relationship between the killers began before and during the Fun House. Their emotional turmoil put them at a disadvantage thus making it easier for the survivors to kidnap them.

- Herman's reason for self-mutilating himself stems much deeper than just guilt and regret.

- Frank and Jeffrey have an intimate connection. Hence the reason why Danny calls him 'Clown Bitch'.

- Danny had it the easiest out of any of the killers. Many viewers seem to enjoy Danny's characterization in that story, but I'm not entirely certain that's a good thing, but I could be messing with ya. Who knows ;) In my stories, Danny is always unpredictable, isn't he?

- Jeffrey is the most traumatized killer. (All of my favorite killers are the ones who suffered the most. I'm evil).

- One of the future moments with Caleb will be one of the most emotional moments in the entire story.

- Remember the Blind Voting? Yeah, I already made my vote a long time ago. (The perks of having multiple archive accounts).

- The random 'falling leaves' in the story are a part of major foreshadowing. Keep an eye out for that and pay close attention.

- There are so many twists to this story that it's insane. I've literally written almost over thirty pages of notes for this story because it's so complex.

- Pyramid Head, Pinhead and Caleb are the only ones who know. What do they know? You'll find out eventually.

- The reader in Knights is probably my least traumatized reader, and ultimately the physically strongest. They're also very sexually skilled, and can fight. (They have to be strong. They're the supporter).

- The ending to this story will be one of the most emotional endings that I've ever written. I can't tell you how excited I am to write it. Like, I wish I could finish this story in one night.

- Every single killer that comes after Carmina/The Artist is essential- like, unbelievably important- to the storyline.

- The harem consists of seventeen killers plus the reader.... That's a lot of drama for me to write.

- I said it once and I'll say it again: Sadako, The Dredge, Wesker, Tarhos, Adriana, and whatever new killers are brought to dbd are extremely important.

And that's all I'm gonna share for right now. My apologies for the rambling. I'm just so excited and I love the story so much. If you happen to not know what the fudge I'm talking about, it's this story right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/35205661/chapters/87724681.

Thank you for indulging my babbling. I hope you all are doing well and have a nice day.

Hello! It has come to my attention that you are currently looking for inspiration, so I thought I'd lend you a hand! First of all, if this does not peak your interest, please don't feel pressured to take my suggestion! Alright, so, emotional support/fluff, hm... What about killers being tenderly taken care of after a survivor managed to hurt them? I'm not sure if this is the kind of concept you are looking for, so please excuse me if it isn't! Have a lovely day! 💗

A reader helping killers' who were hurt- emotionally and/or physically.

For the very sweet, lovely @lovesick-on-the-loose

Thank you so much, lovesick, for being so kind and patient. You're a very wonderful person and I've enjoyed the conversations we've had together. I apologize that the drabble is late, but I really hope that you like it 💐❤️ Much love to you, my dear!

Also.... This is my first time writing Kazan, so I probably did an iffy job. Nonetheless I'm glad I got the chance to portray his character more.

Warnings: Non-graphic violence. Character injury. Blood and injury. Fat shaming.

...

Max (injury)

Max was in a rough chase with Ada who kept hitting him with pallet after pallet until one point it finally managed to break the skin on his head. And it was painful. So painful that he dropped his hammer and chainsaw and began limping around blindly while clutching his head.

He growled and groaned in pain. His heart was racing and it felt like his skull was broken. Blood oozed down his face and into his eyes. What did he do? How was he supposed to fight like this? Aw, he just wanted the pain to stop.

"Max."

Max jolted and spun around anxiously. Who was that? Someone else who wanted to hurt him?

"Max, it's me, (y/n), a-are you okay?" It was you.

Max relaxed a bit and stilled his movements. Personally, you were his favorite person here. You were just so pretty and kind and caring. And he kind of... 'liked'... you........

"Oh, that looks bad. Here, I have a medical kit. Would it... Is it okay if I help you real quick?" You asked, stopping nearby.

Him getting help from you? Was this a dream come true? Max hesitated, but eventually he nodded and got down to his knees. He heard you approaching, his eyes squinting with the intense desire to properly see you.

"Here," You say, your gentle hands cupping his chin and tilting his head up, "Hold still, ok?"

Max uttered small, patient growls while enjoying the feeling of you softly cleaning away the blood. You were so gentle and kind. Oh, how he wished he could speak.

"I'm gonna bandage this, but it might sting a bit, ok?" You say, patting his shoulder.

Nodding, Max tensed and groaned whenever you poured cool liquid over his head, but once it settled a bit, he was surprised to notice the painful wound go numb. "I'm sorry this happened. I know Ada can be a pain to deal with," He heard you speak while wrapping up his head.

"But you did a good job," You hum, and it caused his chest to flutter. "And you're so strong. I love how you never give up."

Stop it. You're making his heart go crazy. Max's crooked mouth curved in a smile, and he growled bashfully at your praise. It might sound silly, but he really wanted to hug you right now.

Once you were done bandaging his head, you sat back and smiled, "There. Is that better?"

Brushing a hand over his tingly, bandaged head, Max nodded and looked at you, his cheeks turning red at your beautiful, kind, amazing face. Gosh, you were so incredible. He was grateful to even walk on the same ground as you.

Wincing, Max clenched his eyes shut and forced out, "Thhh... Thank... You."

"You're welcome, Max," You grin, leaning in to place your hand over one of his, "This trial is pretty much over, but I'll stay behind so you don't get punished. Does that sound good?"

What? You would do that for him? And the way you were holding his hand- it just- ahhh! What was happening right now?

"Wh-what's wrong?" You laugh softly, obviously catching onto his adorable panic.

Max tilted his head away. What's wrong is that he really liked you, and you were really nice, and you just helped him, and you were holding his hand, and it felt like his face was about to burn off. He growled a bit, closing his eyes when he slowly turned his hand over beneath yours, your fingers lightly intersecting.

"Max?" You squeeze his fingers back.

Max turned and looked at you, and his heart rocketed into his throat at what you said next.

Herman (emotional)

He was sitting at the isolated killer campfire by himself, his knees drawn and body slumped forward as he stared with blank eyes at the infinite fire. Around a week ago he had been rejected by someone who he was really attracted to, and that pain was still heavy inside him, endlessly weighing him down.

And, to add more salt to the wound, people both killer and survivor alike had been making fun of him and all for different reasons. He felt like a fraud, an outcast, a failure and a hated imbecile. And lonely. So very, very lonely. Unliked. Unwanted.

There was the distinct sound of tasseled tree branches in the distance, but Herman didn't care to register it. Was probably just some other jerk come to rub his own humiliation in his face again.

"Herman?" He heard a voice. 'Your' voice. "E-excuse me, I don't mean to bother you, I just... I just came to see if you were okay?"

Herman turned his head and spotted your shy figure standing just on the other side of the fire. While he didn't know you personally, he knew that the brief moments you did share together in the past had been decent. But that didn't answer why you were here. He nodded.

You approached slowly, your steps light and hesitant, "Aren't you lonely out here all by yourself?"

Yes. Herman shook his head and sighed, idly watching you from the corner of his eye.

"Is it okay... Can I sit with you?"

He nodded. You sat down about five feet away from him, mindlessly grabbing a nearby stick and probing it around at the ground, "It sucks- being rejected. Makes you... Makes you wonder what you're doing wrong."

Herman's eyes widened and he looked over at you. You were looking at the ground, casually tapping at it with the stick. You had been rejected too?

"And it's crazy because-pfft! Who would wanna reject you? You're smart, kind... Handsome..." You bashfully admit, turning your head away.

Interest fully caught, Herman straightened his posture and turned towards you a bit, "(y/n)?"

"I'm just saying-" You say somewhat passionately, albeit embarrassed, "They're stupid for rejecting you..."

Herman's gaze drifted off a bit, "Or perhaps I merely hone no attraction."

"Uh," You scoffed, glaring at him, "Yes you do. Why would you say that? You're very attractive, and kind, and you have the most beautiful smile, and you're such a gentleman- I-I seriously don't know why anyone would want to turn you down. You deserve so much more than that."

"Hm," Herman smiled a bit and scooted closer to you, his tone pleasant and smooth as he mumbled, "Yes... Yes, I suppose I do deserve better, don't I?"

When you turned your head back and saw how close he had gotten, you blushed and stammered, "O-oh, I-I... I?"

"Tell me, (y/n)... Is it true? Do you really think that highly of me?" Herman asked, staring hopefully into your eyes.

You stare back, a bit flustered, but honest, "Yes."

"Well then," Herman stretched his hand out towards you, murmuring, "I guess I just need to set higher standards then, hm?"

Kazan (injury)

Kazan is not used to the foreign, futuristic buildings that he is forced to do trials in. And not frequently does he have the proper attire to venture through these realms- like right now he was trying to navigate his way through some freezing, concrete building filled with flashing lights, walls, creepy bathrooms and more walls.

There was also a lot of clutter in the institute, and along that clutter there lie stray broken glass. Glass that he stepped and 'slipped' on thus creating multiple, long cuts in the bottom of his bare feet.

Kazan roared in anger and pain, immediately dropping his katana and falling down onto his bottom. He growled, pawing at his rapidly bleeding foot. There was a piece of sharp glass lodged inside it. He touched it and roared yet again in excruciation. Curse this hell.

If the Entity was a belly, he would slice it.

Kazan attempted many times to remove the glass, and when that failed he tried resuming the trial, and then when that failed he sat back down and huffed and groaned loudly in a mixture of pain, fury, and annoyance.

"Hello?"

Kazan huffed and turned his head straight in your direction, startling whoever it was that dared tread close to him. His eyes dilated, though, whenever he saw that it was 'you'. (y/n). You were standing nearby with your hands lifted in the air- a red medical kit held in the right one.

"I-I saw that you were hurt," You say softly, gesturing to his foot, "I can help."

What? He didn't understand you. The language you spoke was foreign to him, didn't you know? Kazan huffed gruffly, clenching his hand around his katana. The only reason he didn't cut you where you stood now was because he liked you. You were the only survivor who he respected in this gruesome purgatory.

Instead of running away like he expected you to, Kazan watched suspiciously as you pointed from your med-kit down to your own foot, back to the med-kit and then to him. Hm? He knew that those red, square things were filled with equipment survivors used to heal themselves with. Were you implying that... You could heal him too?

"I can help you."

Well, there wasn't anything about your tone that suggested malice, and your expression seemed empathetic enough. Perhaps he could stand to accept your aid. Kazan huffed and spoke in his own language, relaxing his body and lifting out his foot.

He thoroughly observed you as you slowly approached him and kneeled down in front of his injured limb. So far you seemed trustworthy. You shuffled through that red container and pulled out a pair of pliers.

Kazan wasn't completely ignorant. He knew what was coming. This wasn't the first time something sharp needed to be pulled out of his body. So he sat up a bit and braced himself as much as he could, stifling a great roar whenever you swiftly pulled the glass out.

Your care after that was immediate. As you quickly dowsed his foot with numbing liquid and then wrapped it with gauze, Kazan listened to your soft yet foreign mumblings. Somehow it was reassuring to him, and you were so precise and gentle.

Kazan decided that he really did like you.

Once you were done, Kazan sat up straight and began to thank you in his own language. He even did a little bow to further express his gratitude.

When you bowed back, he blushed a bit and gazed down at his bandaged foot. You not only helped him but you showed him great kindness and respect. He said that he wanted to get to know you better.

You squinted your eyes at him, looking confused, "What?"

Kazan did the only thing he knew of that could work. He grabbed his katana, ripped off one of the decorative sakura on the handle, and lifted it out towards you. Take this as a clarification of his gratitude and maybe even, one of these days, his love.

Jeffrey (emotional)

He was sitting outside of his caravan on a chair all by himself, simply enjoying the peace after-trials brought. It had been a rough day- one that was filled with hate, degradation, embarrassment and loneliness. Jeffrey knew that he wasn't the best looker out there. He had let himself go a long time ago and he was far from being healthy.

But man, did people really hate him.

A lot of the survivors were friends with the killers, but no one was friends with him. Jeffrey was positive that the reason behind that was due to his appearance- hell, the survivors and even some of the other killers reminded him of how disgusting he was every day.

That's why, when Jeffrey saw you timidly approaching him from the opposite side of the dead circus, he rose an eyebrow of curiosity and defense. Judging by your posture, you didn't look like you were here with ill intentions. In fact you seemed kind of nervous and... shy.

Jeffrey eyed you heavily up until you came to a stop just a few meters away. "Hi?" You bashfully said, your adorable fingers lifting in a small wave.

"An' what the hell do you want?" He asked, prepared for the worst.

"I um... I just wanted to come by and say that... I saw how the other survivors were treating you last trial, and I... I wanted to come see you and say that... That I..." You cleared your throat, pressed your hand against your mouth and looked away, your cheeks a vivid red, "I don't think you're ugly at all. And... I hate the way they treat you. It's not right."

Jeffrey could only sit still in silence for a moment, utterly shocked. Well, of all the things you could have said, he definitely didn't expect to hear that. "Heh," He smirked, spreading his legs a bit and leaning forward with interest, "An' what made ya come all the way down here just to tell me that, sweetheart?"

"I..." You stammered, your blush more than obvious, "I-I felt bad for how they were treating you, and I... I was worried that you- you know... Might be feeling bad too..."

"Well, ain't you sweet?" Jeffrey grinned and beckoned you closer with a finger, "Commere."

You complied hesitantly, coming to a stop just a few feet away from him. Jeffrey eyed you up and down, pleased with what he saw, "Tell me: if ya don't think I'm ugly, then what am I to ya?"

Your fingers nervously rubbed together in front of your belly. Your cheeks were dark and your gaze averted. "I- you... I think that you're... Handsome." And then you covered your face with your hands.

And oh did Jeffrey love that. Someone thought he was handsome- and not just any someone. 'You'. One of the greatest survivors in this junky place. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, can ya repeat that?" He teased, lifting a hand behind his ear.

You made a face that caused him to laugh in amusement. "Aw, come on, ya gotta know I ain't got good ears," He grinned.

You shuffled and gazed around, unable to look at him as you sputtered, "I said... I think you're handsome."

"What was that? Sorry, one more time."

"Mm..." You blushed furiously, covering your face, "Seriously?"

Jeffrey leaned back and chuckled, "Ain't you just the dammed most adorable thing I ever did see... Much better than all them other hustlers. Prettier too."

"Is... Is it okay if I sit with you for a while? Please?" You ask.

Jeffrey hummed and closed his legs together, patting his thighs as he said, "Yeah, yeah, here. Sit right here. Take a load off from all them darn nice things yuv been sayin' to me."

Whether you sat on his lap or not was entirely up to you. Either way, Jeffrey loved having you around. And for the first time in a long time... He felt like he was finally accepted.