vivi’s writing blog

please let me write something that isn't angst. (asks/submissions open!)

[fyreb2rd]

WELCOME TO MY BLOG :)!

hello! I’m vivi! I’m a minor who enjoys writing in her spare time. You can request writing for the Dream SMP characters here, or you can ask me about my AUs

my other blogs:

@arson-lst : my main blog where you can go to talk about anything that isn’t writing related! I’m always here and always ready to chat :)!

@manburg-radios : an ask blog I run that centers around the story of some superheroes trying to save their city from tryannical reign, but they keep getting attacked over and over.

MY AO3

Here are my major multi-chapter stories (I screwed up the chapters for TCATI so it’s kinda stuck as a series until I figure out what to do, let me know if you know a way to change that-)

THE CLAIRVOYANT AND THE ILLUSIONIST

“Tubbo and Tommy have stuck together since nine years old, practically glued to each other's sides as they started to study Alchemy together. But after a house fire sparks a civil war, the two boys run away and luckily stumble into a found family who will save their lives and guide them to the chosen timeline; and ready them for greatness. “

BROTHERLY RACES

“Tommy should know better than to tag along with a near stranger to an undisclosed location, but Dream promises they're going to see a drag race, with fast cars and illegal bets, and he also promises to let Tubbo tag along. Wilbur is also not too happy to see his younger brothers somewhere he's not even supposed to be. He's really not happy at all.“

A LETTER FROM LOGSTEADSHIRE

“ Tubbo was overwhelmed enough with the Butcher Army, the new build plans for L'Manburg, and trying so desperately to remain peaceful. The letter that Ranboo delivers does nothing but make everything else seem minuscule.”

RULES AND DNI BELOW

DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU

- are a supporter of pedophiles or are a pedophile

-are a pro shipper in the sense that you condone shipping ‘morally wrong’ fictional character

-if you are a “truther” (someone who puts sexualities on streamers/ccs who haven’t explicity expressed their sexuality)

-if you ship irl minors or sexualize irl or fictitious minors

-if you are against the BLM movements or are racist, transphobic, homophobic, acephobic, etc.

RULES:

do not request anything nsfw, which I think is obvious because I am a minor.

please do not request x readers, they’re simply not my department of writing, there’s a ton of great blogs that do write them though!

I’m generally really chill about writing, so don’t hesitate to drop any ideas you have on this blog!

Feel free to use my asks to write out your own ideas if you want some feedback

[fyreb2rd]

had a thought of kristin coming to the smp before wilbur’s revival. wrote a bit, enjoy :)

(tw: mentions of murder, mentions of mental illness, shouting)

—

“he died..?” kristin asks, eyes widening for a beat as she steps closer to phil. the tears threaten to spill, she doesn’t let them, but her voice breaks as she whispers, “how?”

“he was stabbed, through his abdomen.” he says, gently, as he walks closer to her.

kristin gasps, a hand to her face as her eyes water even more, “no… who did it?”

suddenly, phil’s throat closes. his mouth gapes. he doesn’t know what to say. kristin tears back from him, hot angry tears on her face.

“who stabbed him?! who killed my son?!” she shouts, tears in the corners of her eyes breaking free, “who killed him? my son! who killed him?!”

“kristin…” phil takes a step closer, a hand on her wrist, another to her face to wipe away the saline.

“phil. who did it?” she demands, shifting her grip to hold his hand, “please, who killed him? who killed wilbur?”

“i can’t…” he stutters, he knows he has to say it. he just… just can’t get the words out of his mouth.

“phil. who, who killed him.” there’s a dangerous edge to her tone, before she shouts, “you know! i know you do. who fucking killed him!”

“i did!” he finally shouts, pushing his head away as his eyes closed against her softening gaze. he feels her grip leave him as she steps back, tearing herself back from him. he spares a look, her shoulders tight, her gaze dark, her face is dripping with shed tears.

“kristin.” he tries and she shakes her head, taking another step back.

“don’t. just… don’t.” she laughs, bitter, “don’t even try.”

“he was sick—“ he tries, but her scoff cuts him off.

“—and instead of helping him, you kill him?!”

he bites his lip before stepping closer, “i didn’t have a choice, kris.”

“there’s always a choice.” she snaps, “just go, just… leave me here.”

she sits herself on his bed in the corner of his home. he can just walk across to techno’s base, it’s not far, but she’s in the artic in her summer dress. it’s mid winter here.

he grabs his old uniform, lined thick with multiple furs from the empire, and he sets it on top of a chest closest to her with a pair of boots too small for him and a cape he didn’t wear anymore. then he donned his own cape, his own boots, and stepped out the door. he shut it behind him and sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“she would’ve found out anyway.” techno says, holding a warm drink out to his friend.

“i wish i could explain myself.” phil replies, taking the cup and holding it even as it burns at his hands.

“yeah, but you can’t. not yet. she’ll calm down, and she’ll come out to speak.” techno smiles, “just like she has over and over again.”

“i still feel bad, techno.” phil rolls his eyes, taking a sip.

techno shrugs, “and you will. it’s like… trauma or whatever it’s called.”

“trauma, you’re right.” phil waves a hand, “when you’ve been around as long as we have, you accumulate it all.”

“all of it and any of it.” techno agrees, tipping his head towards his door, “lets go inside before you get a chill.”

phil agrees.

[fyreb2rd]

a short little unnamed fic :)

-

he’d always loved to watch the stars. he had accumulated probably close to a thousand or more his carefully drawn star maps. he’d drawn out every constellation he could think of, he named them all and gave them stories, breathed his own life and blood into the once stalemate bulbs above. he would reach up as high as he could, eyes shining, praying to touch the stars… but he never could.

he was only twenty three years old when he died.

she took pity.

she was the galaxy and she loved to watch the blond man who adored her stars. she’d perch as a bird on a tree behind him as he stared up at the stars, smiling before tilting his head down and scribbling out what he’d seen. she gifted him new stars, new constellations to find, new stories to build. she felt selfish for keeping this little human to herself, but to her, he was the earth she protected.

she laid him in a floral field, equipment refurbished.

he woke up.

he stood, legs shaking, hand over his wound. he found that the wound was gone, and when he dipped his hands in a stream he found that the wound was a small scar. it was a star. he continued to chart the skies and tell stories, adding one of his own about a scared little kid who was taken into the loving hold of the goddess of the night. he painted beautiful pictures of the woman he believed own the skies.

he met her when he finally made it to the end.

she was waiting.

she had listened to his stories in varying forms. a little girl with just a bit too much curiosity, a crow who perched along the brim of his white and green hat, an older woman who gifted him bread, or even just herself with her wings hidden. she had watched him spin the thread that kept her power and she loved every little story he’d painted in the stars. she watched him stumble through the portal, naive, she thought as he climbed up to the main island and narrowly avoided the eyes of endermen who watched him curiously. she sat upon a pillar, hands stuck to the obsidian by chains, a curse to leaving unbidden, a curse for trying to get his attention.

she was cursed to live alone with only the endermen.

he did the impossible.

he didn’t kill the dragon right away as some would, instead he watched it fly. he noted the pillar it favored and climbed up. he worked as nimbly as he could. once he made it to the top he looked over the edge with a grin, blue eyes burning with pride and confidence. but he saw her and his expedition filled mind paused.

“you’re the woman of the stars.” he spoke.

“you’re the man who tells my stories.” she replied.

he smiled.

she knew he was the one.

[fyreb2rd]

a short little unnamed fic :)

-

he’d always loved to watch the stars. he had accumulated probably close to a thousand or more his carefully drawn star maps. he’d drawn out every constellation he could think of, he named them all and gave them stories, breathed his own life and blood into the once stalemate bulbs above. he would reach up as high as he could, eyes shining, praying to touch the stars… but he never could.

he was only twenty three years old when he died.

she took pity.

she was the galaxy and she loved to watch the blond man who adored her stars. she’d perch as a bird on a tree behind him as he stared up at the stars, smiling before tilting his head down and scribbling out what he’d seen. she gifted him new stars, new constellations to find, new stories to build. she felt selfish for keeping this little human to herself, but to her, he was the earth she protected.

she laid him in a floral field, equipment refurbished.

he woke up.

he stood, legs shaking, hand over his wound. he found that the wound was gone, and when he dipped his hands in a stream he found that the wound was a small scar. it was a star. he continued to chart the skies and tell stories, adding one of his own about a scared little kid who was taken into the loving hold of the goddess of the night. he painted beautiful pictures of the woman he believed own the skies.

he met her when he finally made it to the end.

she was waiting.

she had listened to his stories in varying forms. a little girl with just a bit too much curiosity, a crow who perched along the brim of his white and green hat, an older woman who gifted him bread, or even just herself with her wings hidden. she had watched him spin the thread that kept her power and she loved every little story he’d painted in the stars. she watched him stumble through the portal, naive, she thought as he climbed up to the main island and narrowly avoided the eyes of endermen who watched him curiously. she sat upon a pillar, hands stuck to the obsidian by chains, a curse to leaving unbidden, a curse for trying to get his attention.

she was cursed to live alone with only the endermen.

he did the impossible.

he didn’t kill the dragon right away as some would, instead he watched it fly. he noted the pillar it favored and climbed up. he worked as nimbly as he could. once he made it to the top he looked over the edge with a grin, blue eyes burning with pride and confidence. but he saw her and his expedition filled mind paused.

“you’re the woman of the stars.” he spoke.

“you’re the man who tells my stories.” she replied.

he smiled.

she knew he was the one.

[fyreb2rd]

a little teaser of the one-shot i’m writing, it will eventually be posted on my ao3, fyreb1rd !!

-

ranboo huffed, pressing his hand against the wood of the tree. the enchanted forest was shockingly lush for somewhere surrounded by ice cold snow, but maybe it was because it was enchanted. he groaned briefly again, mentally thinking there was no way they’d be finding micheal inside the thick lush grass for hours. the thought of losing micheal made his stomach drop through his body.

“micheal?” he tried again, walking into a clearing where his attention was quickly drawn to the beautiful area. the sun peaked through and filtered through the swaying leaves at the edge of the clearing, which opened up bright and sunny to reveal a circle of intricately grown flowers. The flora weaved together in a sort of braided pattern that was clearly deliberately done. Alliums and hyssops next to what he thought was sage, and some dandelions coating the edges of the braided design. At the center of the flora there sat a lifelike looking statue. He would’ve said it was alive, but it sat so still he wasn’t sure. it was painted and carved from either stone or quartz, and it was insanely lifelike. ranboo carefully walked around the flowers, trying not to harm them, as he approached to get a better look at the statue. it was of a woman, wearing some sort of long white moss covered dress. from her back poked two larger black wings that curled in towards her chest as if blocking the sun from her face. ranboo made his way around the figure, gently walking so as to not disturb the peace.

“woah.” he whispered, slowly continuing his circle, until a shuffle of pink caught his eyes and a soft giggle followed. micheal was fast asleep, head resting on the lap of the statue, the statues wings and hands gently holding him… which was weird. why would a statue be built to hold something?

“oh! hello!” a feminine voice chimed and ranboo shrieked in genuine fear as the statue looked up at him. the enderman noise that left him made the woman jump, her wings puffing up a bit, but she didn’t go to attack or anything. instead she kept her eyes settled on his face, but not in his eyes, as ranboo collected himself.

“an enderman,” she mused, gently scooping micheal up in her arms and standing. she was tall, not taller than ranboo, but close to his height but compared to the rest of his friends, she was tall. she pursed her lips before stepping closer and partially holding micheal out as she said, “i believe this little one belongs to you?”

“yeah, actually,” ranboo felt a wave of calm wash over him as she handed him the zombie piglin who clearly instinctually felt his fathers hold and relaxed.

“he’s very sweet, but very shy.” she smiles, “reminds me of my own son when he was young.”

[fyreb2rd]

Pls spare captain puffy crumbs?

yes yes ofc :))

how about some papa puffy au because,,, i love her <3

(also the auto caps on my phone broke so you’ll have to bear with me here)

—

“foolish, what did i tell you about using your powers when i’m not home?” puffy rested her hands on her hips, blue eyes narrowing at her son. the boy crosses his arms, narrowing his own eyes back at her and she nearly threw her hands up in anger but part of her knew foolish better than that. he wouldn’t back down quickly, but eventually he would.

“he was just helping me…” dream crossed his arms to mimick his slightly older brother and god— puffy wonders why gods abandoned their kids or siblings. and why did she adopt them.

“i know, dream, but he’s still learning how to do everything and i don’t want him to get hurt.” puffy explained, kneeling down infront of the two boys and grabbing foolish’s arms to gently reveal his hands. against his gold skin, he had some residual green electricity from whatever healing thing he’d attempted.

“foolish, okay…” puffy sighed, “you charged up too much bud.”

she assumed, anyway.

“i know.” he pulled his hands back, looking away guilty and she let out of a huff of amusement.

“what was wrong with dream anyway?” she asked and the two shared looks. dream did a little head tilt, his mask sliding a bit on his face, and foolish looked at puffy and then down at dreams leg. dream stepped back on it as if proving something.

“momma.” dream sighed, “don’t be mad… i was playing with sapnap and george and i fell and hurt me leg really bad.”

“we’ll that’s okay, you were just playing.” she smiled and then foolish stepped closer and loudly whispered,

“he broke it—“

“—what?!” puffy exclaimed and both boys giggled at her reaction. god, they made her hair go white faster than natural, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love them.

[fyreb2rd]

Write me something about a duck. And mayhaps a lemonade stand

who sent this i’m going to strangle you

[fyreb2rd]

If you wanna know how the next chapter of brotherly races is going:

[fyreb2rd]

Do you have any advise for people just starting out on writing? What are some basic things we should learn about an d know?

Something you NEED to know is that you should never let people talk down to you about your writing. When you’re creating something, you should have fun with it and make it because you enjoy it.

Obviously, you should also be open to criticisms as well, but don’t let people bully you into writing a certain way.

(More genuine advice under the cut)

I learned a lot of writing by simply consuming a LOT of books as a kid. (I read the entire Percy Jackson series in like two months or something, I was a menace!!) so I’ll give you a few tips:

Dialogue can be tricky but sometimes reading it out loud can help you fix the flow! Also, make sure to use proper quotations; “” around words. Whenever you’re writing dialogue you can start it a few ways:

“This is going to be so much fun!” She said as she smiled at me, “come on!”

She smiled at me and said, “this is going to be so much fun! Come on!”

“This is going to be so much fun! Come on!” She said as she smiled at me.

I don’t know if those are the only ways to start dialogue but those are the ways I learned!

(I also use Grammar.ly to help me figure out a lot of my punctuation because I suck at it so—)

And it’s a bit of a challenge at first, but try to separate writing into paragraphs. You should start a new paragraph when;

-someone new is talking

-the location of the action has changed (going indoors or outdoors, for example.)

Or

-the topic has changed (going from describing an area to characters interacting)

(I’m also sure there’s more ways but that’s what I’ve learned)

Finally, a BIG thing to remember is story structure:

I’m sure you’ve seen this before! Try to follow it! It’s actually really beneficial to plot out a bit of your plot (even if you don’t start knowing the climax or the ending) and don’t stay super hell bent on following this exactly! It’s a guide, and sometimes you have to stray from a guide to make something truly remarkable.

Happy writing :]!!

[fyreb2rd]

sorry for the spam .w.

transferring some stuff between blogs

[fyreb1rd]

Any advise for creating suspense?

Okay, honestly I’m not the best at this either, but I’ll give you some tips I’ve learned!! This is pretty long so I’ve shoved it under a read more—

When suspense is between two characters via an argument or a conversation, make sure to describe how they’re moving and the senses they can feel. For example I did this in Brotherly Races:

“What the hell are you talking about?” Wilbur grumbled and Tubbo shifted in his seat, glancing sharply at Tommy who stared at Dream. The two blondes locked eye contact for a few seconds, Dream’s eyes burning with a competitiveness Tommy matched with his own confusion and concern. Dream’s lips cracked into a smug grin, blowing a low whistle and laughing. In a blur, Wilbur went to stand, but both Techno and Frie grabbed his arms to pull him down to sit again.

“Oh, c’mon now. You heard me, Soot.” Dream nodded his head towards the exit and he, George, and Sapnap left the restaurant with small grins across their lips. Sapnap glanced back, as if checking to see if they were being followed before leaving the once lively table shocked to silence.

In that (even though it’s not the best) I tried using the reactions people had to what others were saying to move the writing along and build the tension between Wilbur and Dream specifically. Wilbur’s aggressive reaction against Dream’s calm and cocky tone not only shows how their characters feel in the moment but how they interact in the story.

I don’t tap into the senses here, but I do a bit in another part of writing I have that was for school but I show you anyway lmao:

“Cool it, Ginger. You’re gonna burn holes in the floor we just got cleaned up.” Zachary had been the least upset about the whole ordeal and was the one to escort her here.

“Shut it, Zack.” She snapped back. Her body was tingling with anxiety and adrenaline. Pivoting, she turned to face the black haired male who stood behind her. He raised his hands defensively, rolling his eyes and popping the lollipop out of his mouth. He waved it as he spoke, approaching his younger sister.

“Everyone has a bad day, Lin.” He says softly, reaching out to cup her cheek, she grits her teeth and turns away. She desperately wants to escape this punishment, she can feel the scar across her nose burn as if it's been reopened.

In that passage I use Zachary’s calm nature against his sisters panic to show the tension being mostly one sided. Zachary isn’t in danger in this moment, so he doesn’t care, Alina is in direct danger, so she’s panicked.

When it’s a specific character by their own, you can add their thoughts. Sometimes using short sentences to make a character seem more frantic works well! Here’s an example:

“Trying to suck in a breath, he felt his lungs squeeze as his breath hitched and his chest burned as his body screamed for air. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. His vision blurred as he scratched into the black stone hard enough to chip part of his clawed fingernail. Hiss… the water from the crying obsidian hits his forehead and rolls down at the same time his tears bubble over his lashes and the pain of the water burning him lurches him back into reality. He gasped, stuttering and collapsing. He was alive. He knew that.”

In that passage I tap into the feeling of losing your breath due to shock and I really pull that out by describing the physical feeling and mental realization of “I can’t breathe.” I also use Ranboo’s (because he’s that’s the character it’s written about) adverse reaction to water to bring him back into reality, again using a physical feeling, and having another shocked reaction after coming to.

If you have any more specific questions don’t hesitate to ask :0!! I hope this helped!!

[fyreb1rd]

Hallo, any angst advice? - Willow

hello genuine advice here

make sure to tap into the senses and the feeling of what’s happening to the character, for example (this is legit a line I have written)

“As his vision blurred, his throat closed as he gasped in a breath. Stepping forward, he could feel the saline collect on his cheeks and under his eyes as he gripped his t-shirt. The cloth collected tightly over where his heart thumped against his ribs.”

Use more words to tell a small story, instead of saying just ‘he cries’ etc. you have to show the emotion and the raw energy behind it :3!!

I love talking about writing stuff, I’ve been fixated on writing for so long, so feel free to ask more questions ahah

[fyreb1rd]

me, a fanfic writer who is constantly told i’m good at angst:

grammarly:

me: oh hell yeah

[fyreb1rd]

I just wanna show you what my editing does to a single paragraph because I’m so proud of my new fic protege (please check it out):

here it is on my doc (on my phone from like 11am):

and now here it is in ao3:

Not only does the scene have more depth, it also reads much clearer and I love going back and editing purely for this satisfaction.

[fyreb1rd]

London's Finest - Chapter One: Welcome Home, Spider-Man.

[dsmp spider-man au]

-

Tommy got adopted, bitten by a (probably) radioactive spider, met his town's version of Emmet Brown, and became spiderman all in one week. While he'd like it to stop there, a new villain working with a local Engineering company Roxxon, topples part of the town hall, trapping his foster father inside. So of course he has to go save him and fight the bad guy guarding the place at the same time. Once the news catches wind of a new hero, they're locked on, and Roxxon doesn't seem to like the idea of their picture-perfect take over being ruined.

-

On his lapel, Tommy immediately noticed the Watson Enterprises logo and straightened up his posture. Why would someone from the enterprise need him of all people? Was it because he never had anything better to do so he would also extra study everything he was learning, which in turn gave him one of the highest GPAs in his school? Or had he stolen something from them once?

Why would he have stolen anything from them? He needed to stop overthinking.

“Yes?” Addison said, snapping for Tommy to walk over. He lazily tossed his old backpack over one shoulder as he approached the two.

“Your ride is here.” The sunglasses man said with a gentle smile, holding the foyer door open to the street where an armored limousine sat. An armored limousine. What. The. Fuck.

“Oh! Thank you...” Addison adjusted herself as she trailed off for the mystery person’s name, shuffling her binders and clipboards in her hand and her purse on her arm.

“I’m Eret, one of Mr. Watson’s secretaries. And it is our pleasure to have you and Mr. Innit in our offices.”

[fyreb1rd]

Brotherly Races - Chapter Seventeen, Somehow, it gets worse.

The last string holding himself in a calm mentality snapped as everything that had happened in the past four or five months finally slammed into him at full force. The accidents, the arguments, the late nights, the ignoring of emotions and things that he probably should’ve talked about long ago bubbled to the front of his mind. He was livid for the first time in a long time.

“You motherfuckers!” Tommy screamed suddenly and Wilbur jumped out of his skin.

“Tommy, relax, what happened?” Techno said, and through the window next to his hospital room door, Tommy watched Dream grin. His stomach boiled with rage.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570779/chapters/75091857

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[fyreb1rd]

Brotherly Races: Double Post, Chapters Fifteen and Sixteen.

–

Chapter Fifteen: It’s Time for Downfall

The races begin, and something goes wrong. So, as these things do, they snowball.

-

“This is the one he was driving.” Techno smiles, standing up and pulling the tarp off of it. Wilbur helps him pop open the hood without much thought and grabs the diesel from Techno.

“Are you sure we should do this?” Wilbur asks.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570779/chapters/74825331#workskin 

–

Chapter Sixteen: And It All Falls Down

Tommy feels the karma of something he didn’t even cause. Or well, directly cause.

-

“Here, let’s make a promise.” He held his pinky out, “and since you can’t break a pinky promise, this will be some sort of good luck promise, okay? Promise me you’ll be safe.”

Tommy smiled and linked their pinky’s sleepily, “yeah, I will.”

“Promise?” Philza raised his eyebrows.

“Promise.” 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570779/chapters/74825586#workskin

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