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[joan-of-stars]

Would it be okay if you could do #4 and #15 out of the Hurt/Comfort prompts with Dark? Maybe where the reader suddenly has an anxiety attack and Dark is there to help comfort them and calm them down? Thank you! 💜 - ✨

4. You’re safe with me, 15. I can’t breathe

You were so deep into it that you forgot what you were anxious about in the first place. 

What you did remember was that it had been accumulating all day, aided by the fact that you woke up with a knot in your chest and stomach, already anxious by morning light. 

It had only gotten worse after that, little things building on top of each other that you hardly consciously registered, but added to the pile nonetheless.

By the time you’d gotten home, your knees were shaking so much you could barely hold yourself up anymore, and you collapsed to your hands and knees as soon as you walked in the door.

Your head was pounding and your breath wouldn’t come. You were having a panic attack, you realized vaguely. Yeah, it was definitely that bad. It had been so long since you’d had one. 

With no single cause to pinpoint and work through, you felt lost on top of everything else, and then you started to panic because you couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t letting up. 

“Y/n?” A hand touched your back- you hadn’t moved from where you’d fallen on your knees- and you reacted, flinching violently, and whipping around to sit on the floor against the wall. “Easy, now, I won’t hurt you. You’re safe with me, my dear.” It was Dark. And you’d flinched away from him. 

“Dark,” You gasped. “I can’t- I can’t breathe, I’m scared,” 

“Everything’s okay. You’re okay. Can I touch you?” He asked. You nodded. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, warning you before he did anything. You clutched his shirt with a white knuckle grip, trying to ground yourself in it.

“What happened?” Dark asked. He sat down on the couch, cradling you close- close enough that he only needed to murmur for you to hear him. 

“Don’t know, ‘m sorry,” You said.

“Don’t be sorry. Listen to my heartbeat.” You did. Steady and even, just like everything about him. Everything he tried to portray, anyway. “Can you breathe with me?”

You tried to match his slow breaths, you really did. “I- I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“Shh, it’s okay. Try again until you can. Listen to me.” 

And so you tried again, and again you failed. All the while Dark was rubbing small circles into your back, bringing you back into focus of your surroundings: “Can you hear the clock?”

“Yes.”

“What else can you hear?” 

“Cars outside. Wind.” 

“Everything is okay, right?”

“...Yeah.” 

He was patient. Dark was never patient. You’d seen him with colleagues. It made you feel better, but also a bit like you were bothering him at the same time. There was guilt brewing in your stomach.

Eventually, your breathing evened out, although you were still shaking like mad, and Dark gave you silence. You never let go of him, though.

“How do you feel?” He asked gently.

“Like I’ve just run a marathon.” You answered.

He smiled, just a little. You could hear it in his voice. “I’ll let you rest, then.”

“Dark?”

“Yes?” 

“I...” You weren’t sure how to put it exactly. “I’m sorry you had to see that part of me.”

He paused. “I’m not ashamed of it, nor should you be.” He tilted your chin up. You looked tired. “Never apologize for needing help. Especially from me.”

What you wanted to say was “sorry”, so instead you elected for resting your head against his chest and saying nothing. Eventually, you drifted to sleep, guarded from nightmares by a pair of caring arms holding you tight.

[joan-of-stars]

concept: vamp!mark is scared he'll hurt you and it's all just anxiety and overthinking situations and all that angst jazz

Oh the possibilities. 

He doesn’t hold you as close, afraid his newfound strength will overwhelm you, afraid he’ll be too tempted by your scent. He spends more time away from you, doesn’t smile as much so he can’t scare you with his fangs, never lets on when he’s hungry.

Have I mentioned yet that I love vampire au’s?

[joan-of-stars]

this might be a really weird question but i saw a twitter screencap of a tweet from Mick and it was a reply to one JoanOfStars? Was that... You?

m...........maybe

[joan-of-stars]

There's a new chapter in this thing that wasn't posted to my tumblr because :shrug: so if you want to read a slightly longer very self insert-y depression fic HAVE I GOT THE THING FOR YOU

I just realized I forgot to link this here.

Remember a few weeks ago when I said writing was a coping mechanism? Well this is where those stories go. It’s a fic that’s exactly what it says on the tin where I have an excuse to post all of my hurt/comfort stories with basically the same format of angst-comfort-fluff, and a lot of it is depression related (Especially with chapter four; when I say trigger warning, I mean trigger warning), so watch out for that. 

But if you want more content, here it is!

[joan-of-stars]

Yay garbage fire! I don't mind inconsistency, I'm pretty bad with regular posts myself -&

I won’t pretend it’s my only excuse, but I’m working on a project right now, and it’s taking up most of my time. Speaking of which, I will get around to the prompts eventually, but I need to get through some things on said project first.

[joan-of-stars]

Hi there! I'm new to the blog, but I'm excited about the prompt list I saw! Can I be & anon, or has that already been claimed?

Hey friend! I'm not doing a great job of keeping up with the prompts right now. I've been busy but I will get back to them. And I think there's only ever been one or two anons who sign off as something on my blog, so pretty much any emoji or symbol is fine. Welcome to the inconsistent garbage fire that is my blog lol

[joan-of-stars]

*whisper* 10, "You haven't eaten in how long" with a stressed, forgetful reader and the Host? I know you normally get Mark and Dark or Sean requests but.... Host is a personal favorite.....

10. “You haven’t eaten in how long?” 

Host is also a personal favorite of mine. However, I was going to write this romantically but I kinda see him as a father figure these days so it ended up being more platonic. I blame reverseblackholeofwords ((didn’t want to tag her because i don’t think she likes reader inserts))

You didn’t mean to wake him up this early in the morning- it was so rare that he got to sleep, after all- but you were frustrated, and being loud. You were rummaging through your stuff, desperately trying to find everything you needed, and a candle fell of your dresser and the sound of the glass jar shattering was loud enough to wake the Host in the other room. 

Sure enough, there was a soft knock at your door a few moments later.

“Come in,” You said. The Host opened the door to you frantically picking up shards of glass with your bare hands.

“The jar is repaired, with the candle safely inside, on the dresser.” He said. By the time you blinked, the floor was clean and, sure enough, the jar was on the dresser just as it was before. The Host knelt down to where you sat on the floor and took your hands into his, examining them palms up. There were thin red lines where the shards had slipped through your hand. You hadn’t even noticed them before, but now that you were staring at them, you tensed at how badly they stung. 

The Host only sighed, and you felt the weight of his disappointment. “Sorry,” You muttered.

“No need to be sorry. (Y/n) should be more careful, however. What happened?” 

“I was rushing.” You said. “And I still need to go. I’m running late.” 

“It seems like all (Y/n) does these days is run late. What is it now?” The Host stood up and lead you to the bathroom to rinse your hands. 

“Wilford and Bim asked for my help in the studio this morning.” You winced as cold water ran over open cuts. “Host, I really don’t have time for this. I’m supposed to be there now.” 

“The Host would rather (Y/n) didn’t get an infection. Wilford and Bim can wait. In fact, (Y/n) didn’t eat breakfast, correct?”

You tensed. Touchy subject. “No.” You said. 

“Actually,” The Host paused, and so did the hand gently cleaning the cuts. “(Y/n) was too busy to eat dinner last night either.”

“Host-”

“When was the last time you ate?” The switch from him hiding behind third-person and the intimacy of him speaking in first person was jarring.

You tried to make yourself as small as possible. “I… I think I had a piece of toast a couple nights ago.”

“What?” He asked, his voice barely rising in volume. “You haven’t eaten in how long? Two days?”

“Well, not exactly, it’s-” 

“Call Wilford.” He demanded.  

“What?” 

The Host wrapped your hands in a bandage. “You need to take a break. They will understand.” 

“Bim is a cannibal and Wilford doesn’t understand the first thing about human anatomy. I’m just forgetful, that’s all-”

“You’ve been too busy to remember to eat.” He said. 

“Well… yeah.”

“What about sleep? Have you been sleeping?” He asked. 

“Uh.” That was a loaded question. “I don’t sleep well when I’m stressed, I get nightmares.”

He was silent for a moment, arms crossed over his chest and the same unreadable expression he always wore. The quiet was tense, and you felt exposed.

“What else did you commit to today?” He asked.

You almost didn’t want to tell him, but you couldn’t say no or get angry at him- he’s the Host. “Dr. Iplier asked me to help him in the clinic later, and then the Googles are working on something they need an extra pair of hands for. Or a test subject. It wasn’t quite clear.” 

He shook his head. “You’re taking a day off.” 

“What?” 

“You need it.” He said. “You’re wearing yourself thin. Soon you’re going to crash.” 

You glared at the floor like a stubborn child who knew they’d been caught. “Who cares?” 

“(Y/n).” He said sternly. 

“I’m just saying, I’ve done this before. I’ll start crying in the middle of the night or something, that’s all.” You said. 

Now he was louder, not quite yelling, but anything other than soft dulcet narration was a little scary coming from him. “I don’t want that either. Why are you so negligent of your health?”

“I just want to be helpful,” You insisted. 

“That’s not a good enough reason to sacrifice yourself, (Y/n). If you don’t tell them you can’t make it, I will.” He says.

He’s not letting you out of this one. “All it’s going to do is make me feel bad that I’m not helping when I should be.” 

“You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten something. And you’re not obligated to help the egos; certainly not at the expense of yourself. They won’t want that either.” He raises an eyebrow. “And besides that, if you don’t eat soon you’re going to faint, and then you’ll worry the doctor.” 

Well, he had you there. “Fine. Fine, if it’ll make you leave me alone.” But when you were about to storm out of the bathroom, your throat tightened at the thought of letting everyone down by cancelling. 

The Host seemed to get it. “Go back to sleep.” He put an affirming hand on your shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. There’ll be breakfast for you when you wake up.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. “Thanks.” You said quietly. “Sorry I’m so stubborn and annoying.”

“Of course.” He smiled. “Your stubbornness isn’t half Wilford or Dark’s. And you’re not annoying.”

“If you say so.” You found you didn’t have the energy to argue that point, instead retiring to your bedroom to catch up on much needed sleep.

[joan-of-stars]

could you do #23 ("You're up late.") with jacksepticeye? I've been staying up very late a lot cause university is a pain in the ass

23. “You’re up late.”

Over the years, you’d learned that sleep depravity’s most prevalent effect on you was emotional. You didn’t even need to pull an all-nighter; just a few missed hours accumulating over many nights was enough to ruin your mental health, not to mention your focus. And with a lack of focus, work took longer to get done, you had to stay up later, and the whole thing repeated in a vicious cycle. It was draining.

The only reason you were properly functioning right now was because you were avoiding thinking about it. After all, you were doing homework, and that took up whatever mental capacity you had left. The lamplight was straining your eyes, your head was aching, and your neck was sore, but you were doing your best to power through. Everything you had yet to do was looming over your head, and making it impossible to think about anything else.

“Hey,” You blinked. You’d been staring at a wall, spacing out, and you hadn’t even noticed. Sean was standing in the doorway to the office. “You’re up late.”

“So are you.” You answered. 

“No I’m not.” He said, standing over you and looking at what you were doing. “I just woke up. Mark called- forgot about time zones.” 

“Mm. Well you can go back to bed. Get some sleep.” You said.

“What about you?” He draped his arms over your shoulders. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I’m fine.” You said without thinking. The phrase was muscle memory at this point.

“Now I’m worried.” He began to massage your shoulders. “Come on, let’s go to bed. You deserve a break.” 

He was distracting you. You couldn’t focus and he was making it worse. “No, I don’t.” You didn’t think about what you were saying. “I mean- no, I- I have to get this done. That’s what I meant.”

You slipped, and he caught it. He knew that you hurt sometimes, and he knew that things had been rough for you in the past. You always insisted that you don’t put it on his shoulders, and he’d always been worried anyway. It was the one thing in your relationship that you didn’t talk about: neither of you brought it up, because you didn’t want to risk it causing tension. 

You stared at your hands as he gently turned your office chair around so you could face him.

“Please?” He asked. “You’ve been so negligent of your health lately. I know it’s hard to talk about, but I don’t like to see you doing this to yourself.”

You blinked. “I... Sean, I’m okay, it’s-”

“Come to bed. Please.”

You made the mistake of bringing it up, and now you were paying the price. If that was how this was going to happen... 

“Fine. Okay.” Before you got a chance to close your books, Sean lifted you out of the chair and carried you to your shared room. Once you were on the bed, Sean pulled you against his chest and you intertwined yourself with him, a tangle of limbs and breath. That was when your head had a chance to catch up with you- the sinking feeling of stress and hopelessness seeping into your system. You clung to Sean, and he noticed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s going on? You’re burning the candle at both ends lately.” He offered, running a hand through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“I don’t know.” You whispered. “It’s just stress. No big deal.” 

“Mm, I don’t believe you.”

“Fair enough.” You sighed. “I just need to sleep. I know I need to sleep, but I don’t feel like I should. I have so much to do.” 

“None of that could possibly be more important than your health.” He said. 

“But who cares about that? It’s not going to kill me. I can’t take a half an hour to eat when I’m so busy; it’s a waste of time.”

He was silent for a minute, and guilt at sharing so much personal thought ate away at you. “I think, for some reason,” He said carefully. “You don’t believe you’re worth taking care of.” 

That hit you like a bullet to the chest. He was right. In your mind, everything was worth more than you. Anything you could do to help, anything you could do to step up, anything you could do to prove you’re worth something- you put it all above yourself, and you felt terrible when you didn’t. 

“Hey, are you okay?” There was a lump in your throat; you were crying now. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine. You’re right.” You couldn’t maneuver your own hand up to your face in the mess of limbs and blankets, so Sean used his thumb to wipe your tears away. “It’s just catching up with me is all-” You cut off with a choked sob. Now that you were crying, it was like the floodgates were open. It had started, and you weren’t going to be able to stop it. Everything built up, and now it was pouring out of you.

Sean seemed to understand. “It’s okay,” He squeezed you tighter and rocked you as best he could in the position you were both in. “It’s okay to cry.” 

And you let yourself sob into his chest with as little remorse as you could manage. For a moment, everything felt terrible and the world could have ended. And then that moment was over, and it started to ease up. You cried it out, and your breathing evened, and the world was calmer than it was just a moment ago. 

“Good?” Sean smiled down at you, tears at the corners of his own eyes. Wow. You thought. He really cares, doesn’t he? 

“All good.” You said. He kissed you on the cheek.

“Will you let yourself sleep, then? For me?” He asked.

“I think I will.” 

[joan-of-stars]

Can you do 38 with depressed chubby reader x Dark or Mark? It's like that 1 am depression and I need something

38. “Stop pretending you care.”

The digital clock on your end table was glaring 1:34 p.m. at you. You needed to get up. As much as you wanted to sink into the mattress and stay there forever, it wasn’t making you feel any better.

Mark had been busy all day. He was an early riser and you were absolutely not, so he was usually up and recording by the time you were awake, much less managed to get out of bed.

You didn’t want to worry him though. He knew you saw a therapist, but he didn’t know how bad it was. So you forced yourself out of bed. In an attempt to seem halfway functioning, you grabbed various shirts, but each one made you feel worse than the last: too small, shows too much, makes my hips look too wide, etcetera. In the end, you frustratedly yanked a hoodie from the closet and replaced the one you were already wearing. Good enough. 

But the damage was done, and now you were fixated on how awful you felt. Trapped in your own body.

You traipsed into the living room, avoiding the full length mirror you kept by the door. Really all you did was migrate from the bed to the couch, and go back to scrolling mindlessly through your dashboard, barely actually reading what was there.

Mark walked in a few minutes later, and noticed how exhausted and disheveled you still looked. “Hey you,” He said.

You glanced up from your phone and gave him the best smile you could, although you didn’t need to see it to know it was weak. “Hi.” 

He joined you on the couch, pulling you close and laying with you there. “How are you doing?” He asked.

You tensed. He was starting to notice. “Fine. Just tired.”

He ran a hand through your hair. “Are you sure? You’ve been kinda out of it the last few days.”

“How do you mean?” You asked.

“Yesterday I walked in on you staring at a wall for like eight minutes.” He said. 

Oh. Yeah. That happened sometimes. You tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, guess I get weird when I don’t sleep enough.” 

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You felt your stomach sink. He wasn’t letting this go. “Yeah. I’m fine, Mark.”

He rubbed small circles into your back. “You can talk to me. It’s okay. I’m not going to get angry or anything.” 

Wow. He knew exactly what to say. You’d had terrible experiences telling people close to you about how dark your mind was- trauma that made it almost impossible for you to talk about it, and lift some of the burden off your own shoulders, even if it wasn’t much. “No. It’s nothing.” 

He gently kissed the crown of your head. “I want to know, (Y/n). I want to be able to support you.” 

Suddenly, you were angry. You didn’t know where that came from, but you didn’t really care. You pulled away. “Stop. Please.”

He sat up, obviously concerned. “Stop what?” 

“Stop pretending you care!” You nearly shouted. 

There was silence. That was too much. The anger drained away as quickly as it had come, and you dropped your head into your hands, overcome with shame.

“(Y/n)...” He didn’t know what to say. “Of course I care,” 

“No-” You were crying. If you spoke, it would turn into sobbing. He touched your arm, silently asking permission to hold you again. You let yourself be pulled against his chest and cradled.

“I’m sorry.” You said, voice cracking.

“Don’t be sorry.” He said tenderly. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you want to talk about it?” You didn’t answer, and after a moment, he asked “Please?” 

You sniffled. “I’m just so sick of me.” You said. “Why aren’t you? I’m so...” there were a million ways to finish that sentence, none of them pretty. 

Thankfully, he interrupted before you could. “I love you.” He said, as if that explained everything. He squeezed you tightly. “I want you to feel okay.” 

“How can I? I carry myself with me everywhere. I can’t get away from that.” You said, trying not to think about you weight, your clothes, your brain, how they all tag-teamed to make you feel like absolute shit. 

He didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know anything about this, and you were convinced you were putting too much of a burden on him. “I’m sorry. Forget I said that.” 

“No. I want to help. Maybe it’s time to see someone more qualified. Have you been in bed for the past few days because you feel bad?” 

It went against every instinct in your body to whisper a quiet “Yes.” 

He pulled back just enough to look in your eyes. “Let’s get you an appointment with someone, okay? We can figure this out. I’ll be here with you every step of the way.” 

“I don’t- I don’t want to make you carry that.” You wiped your eyes. 

He smiled sadly at you. “I want to. Because I love you. You don’t have to do this alone.” 

You buried your head in the crook of his shoulder and he held you tight. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

[joan-of-stars]

So I don't think you intended 44 to be with a nonverbal reader, but that's what I'm going to ask for. Not like mute, but reader is panicked or something and goes nonverbal for the time being. And maybe the reader can sign? This with Mark would be really cool!!

44. “You can’t speak?”

You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe. All you could do was stare at the camera, shattered beyond repair on the floor in front of you.

It was your fault. But it was a mistake. Your stupid shaky hands failed you again, and the camera slipped. The five hundred dollar camera was now completely broken. And it was because of you.

Of course, the sound of five hundred dollars crashing onto the hard floor was not quiet, and Mark ducked in the room to see what happened.

Immediately, you could move again, and you flinched violently before jumping out of the way and backing into a wall.

"Hey, hey," He only spared the camera a glance before he approached you. "It's okay, it's not that bad."

You shook your head. It was bad.

"What happened?"

After a moment of desperation deciding whether to hide the fact that you couldn't speak, or to confess, you pointed to your mouth and shook your head.

"You can't speak?" He asked. You shook your head, twitchy and nervous. "Okay," He said. "That's fine. Can you sign?"

"Yes," You signed. Sign language was safe. You could hide behind sign.

Mark's asl was shaky at best, but you could understand it, and that's all that really mattered. "It's okay. We can just buy a new one."

"I'm sorry." You moved your hand in rapid circles across your chest, repeating the motion over and over again: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

Mark kept shaking his head and signing "no," but you didn't pay attention.

“(Y/n).” That one he said out loud, instead electing to grab your wrists. You jumped, but he managed to get your attention. “It’s okay. Mistakes happen, I get it. But I want to get you out of here because of all the broken glass from the lens.”

You looked frantically at the ground, realizing he was right. He let go of your wrists. “You’re not angry?” You signed. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure. Come here,” And in one swift motion, he swept you off your feet into his arms and carried you into the other room, which was glass and broken plastic free.

He set you down, but pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you. “Why would I get angry at you for a little slip like that?” He asked. “We all make mistakes.”

“Just... I’m just used to it I guess.” You said out loud. 

He squeezed you tight and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to worry about that with me. Actually, I hope you’ll never have to worry at all.”

[joan-of-stars]

Hurt/Comfort Prompts

So I’ve been wanting to do more prompts for a good while now, and I knew that was how I wanted to get back into the swing of things around here again, but it was too much work to find one that had everything I wanted and nothing I didn’t. So extra bastard that I am, I decided to make my own. Send them in! As always, no promises I’ll get to all of them, but I think I’ll be better about this one since I know I like all the prompts

1. “Why do you think you’re not worth taking care of?”

2. “I’m fine, I promise.”

3. “Get away from me!” 

4. “You’re safe with me.”

5. “I can take care of myself.” 

6. “Don’t lie to me. Please.”

7. “I care about you a whole damn lot.” 

8. “It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.” 

9. “Is it getting bad again?” 

10. “You haven’t eaten in how long??” 

11. “You need to get some sleep.”

12. “All you’re doing is hurting yourself.” 

13. “Please don’t go.” 

14. “I’m not leaving you alone like this.” 

15. “I can’t breathe.” 

16. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

17. “You are good enough.”

18. “Go home. You need to rest.” 

19. “You’re burning up,” 

20. “It’s okay, it was just a mistake.”

21. “I’m already awake. What happened?” 

22. “You’re up early.”

23. “You’re up late.”

24. “Are you crying?” 

25. “You don’t need to fight this on your own.” 

26. “You fainted. You said you were okay.”

27. “You look like shit.” 

28. “Why do you care?” 

29. “No, you were right. I’m sorry.”

30. “I’ll take care of you, okay?” 

31. “I promise.” 

32. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

33. “I don’t feel good.” 

34. “You can cry.” 

35. “I looked in the mirror this morning and... that was a mistake.” 

36. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

37. “This is my fault; I can’t remember anything.”

38. “Stop pretending you care.”

39. “I want to stay here forever.” 

40. “Is this okay?” 

41. “I didn’t want to let you down.” 

42. “It’s my own fault.” 

43. “Can I touch you?” 

44. “You can’t speak?” 

45. “Relax, you’re okay, see?”

46. “Breathe with me.”  

47. “You know I would never hurt you.” 

48. “You think so little of yourself.” 

49. “Don’t worry about me.” 

50. “I can’t believe I let this happen.” 

Also, disclaimer, if you don’t specify whether you want more hurt or comfort, you run the risk of it being all hurt. And you can get creative! I can write lgbt readers, au readers or egos, different ages, etcetera. If you want certain pronouns, also tell me that.

[joan-of-stars]

I just realized I forgot to link this here.

Remember a few weeks ago when I said writing was a coping mechanism? Well this is where those stories go. It’s a fic that’s exactly what it says on the tin where I have an excuse to post all of my hurt/comfort stories with basically the same format of angst-comfort-fluff, and a lot of it is depression related (Especially with chapter four; when I say trigger warning, I mean trigger warning), so watch out for that. 

But if you want more content, here it is!

[joan-of-stars]

Writing tips? (For fanfiction specifically) I think you answered this before but I want an update!!

Updated writing tips!

1. I think I mentioned this in the first one but when writing reader inserts you don't need to describe the reader to themself. (h/c), (s/c), etcetera can make the story cluttered and actually ruin the immersion because they're not actual words. A sentence like "(Y/n) brushed a hand through his (h/l) (h/c) hair" becomes much more concise when you take them out and instead write "(Y/n) brushed a hand through his hair." I know what my hair looks like! And I'll imagine it the way it is if you leave it vague.

2. Make sacrifices for the sake of the characters. Obviously nothing has to be perfect, and fanfiction is self indulgent by nature, but published work is much more immersive when the characters are as much themselves as possible. I say fanfiction is in some ways harder than original work for this reason, because it's so hard to pin down. I start with asking myself if I would question the writing if i saw this on the show (book, video, etcetera) and if i can, great! If I can't, I usually post it anyway. Sometimes I don't. This is just an extra step to bring your writing to the next level. Have fun writing that character cuddling with you, but consider other situations. Maybe you would learn a lot about this person when someone they're close to gets hurt, and they don't care nearly as much as they should. Explore!

3. It's really obvious when you're trying to work around using the Y/n abbreviation. If a character calls the reader "babygirl" too much, your audience will notice. There are ways to work around it more discreetly, but sometimes reworking the whole sentence for that purpose takes the quality of your fic down a few notches. Personally, I'd rather just use the abbreviation, but that's my own opinion.

4. On the topic of Y/n, check to make sure you aren't writing it in too much for the sake of drama. I don't know if this is an issue with anyone else, it's definitely a problem I have. I recommend ctrl-F and then replacing Y/n with an actual name and reading your fic over again to make sure the characters aren't calling each other by name so much that it doesn't sound natural.

I probably have more, but this is what immediately comes to mind, and mostly it's all just my harmless opinion. Just make sure you know the rules before you break them!

[joan-of-stars]

are you going on a hiatus again? you've been gone for a bit

Not purposely. I’ve been writing, it’s just that fanfiction is kinda my coping mechanism so most of what I’ve written lately has been the same thing over and over again with slight variations, and I don’t want people to get annoyed. That, and, it’s potentially triggering or offensive, since, like I said, it’s a coping mechanism. I’ll get back into it eventually!

[joan-of-stars]

I found your vampire fic on ao3, and i absolutely LOVE it, but I saw that you haven’t updated it in a year and almost cried.

Okay I have no excuse I knew this was going to happen

I just don't know how to bridge the gab between what's happening now and what I want to happen next and time got away from me. I have tried to write it, and there is something in that document for the next chapter but it's rushed and obviously not planned out at all.

I'm sorry I haven't updated it in so long. Maybe I'll do that. I might just need to write one shitty filler chapter to get to the good stuff

[joan-of-stars]

Tumblr can be a back in the back side in all honesty some times >:/. No app is perfect, but tumblr it faulty at best......I'm almost scared to ask but, how much of the story did you have left to finish?

I had about a quarter left to go

[joan-of-stars]

Ooh shoot really, that sucks im so sorry you lost all that progress on that story D:

Took a minute. Breathed. I'm good.

But that story won't be finished until tomorrow night probably