#swift writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swift-creates · 17 days

Text

@chrumblr-whumblr day 3: carrying

wc: 410 | warnings: stab wound, a lot of swearing (like. A Lot), | characters: Tim Drake (pov), Jason Todd

—

“Tim. Tim, wake the fuck up, dammit.”

Tim groaned as sounds and sensations slowly returned to his battered body. Sounds being Jason swearing at him and sensations being excruciating pain from the stab wound in his side. “Fuuuuuuck.” “Fuck is right, little brother. What were you thinking, huh?” He opened his eyes to see Jason dividing his attention between putting pressure on the wound and glaring at him. “I was thinking I’d destroy the Scarecrow’s latest supply of fear gas, but go off, I guess.” Tim decided it wasn’t worth it and closed his eyes again. “Hey.” Jason’s hand moved to tilt Tim’s face up towards him. “No sleeping. Look at me.” “Go away,” Tim mumbled. “Fuck that. Open your eyes, Replacement.” Now it was Tim’s turn to glare at him. “I’m not your fucking replacement-” “Gotcha.” Jason grinned smugly down at him, and he scowled. If he’d had the energy, he would’ve kicked him. As it was, he thought he’d black out if he did.

Jason removed his hands after a moment, leaning back on his heels to study his handiwork. “It’ll do. Can you stand?” “I have a hole in my torso the size of Atlanta,” Tim said flatly. “D’fuck do you think?” “Just thought I’d ask. You know what a nice guy I am. Always asking permission, et cetera, et cetera.” “You murder people.” “Nicely.” “Fuck you,” Tim grumbled, gripping Jason’s outstretched hand and pulling himself up. For a milisecond he was steady on his feet. Then white-hot pain shot through his side, and his knees buckled. Jason dove to catch him, and he let out a pitiful whine at the jolt.

“I gotcha, baby bird.” “Ngh- Stop calling me that.” “No. C’mere.” Jason bent, then scooped Tim up into his arms. He was barely able to bite back a cry of agony, curling into Jason instead and burying his face in his shoulder.

“Easy. I got you, kid.” This time, he didn’t protest. “I’ll get you back to Batsy in one piece, or my middle name isn’t Wonderful.” “Your middle name is Peter.” “Shhhhhhh.” “Asshole.” “Darling brother.” Tim mumbled something indistinct in reply and held onto Jason tighter, wincing when he sped up.

“Hold on, Timmers. Almost there.” He almost didn’t hear it over the Gotham-typical sounds of yelling and things breaking, but Jason pulled him closer, and he let his head loll against his brother’s chest, listening to the steady tha-thump instead.

#swift creates #swift writes #Jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #tim drake wayne #tim drake robin #CHRUMBLr whump #Chrumblr whump May #batfam #batfamily #Batboys #Tim drake whump #Whump #Dc #Batman #team red #this is scheduled im probably still asleep lol

43 notes · View notes

nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 5 months

Text

The clan leaders forge onward to Jubilife. Akari’s party rests, regroups, and receives a guest. New players enter the field.

#the nemesis speaks #pokemon legends arceus #jailbirds au #swift writes #well! it's posted!#yeah i'm not gonna say anything else i guess. just take it #now promptfill time. or maybe that later. or tomorrow. idk. what i'm planning is none of my business

13 notes · View notes

moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom · 2 years

Note

Can you just imagine how painful it must be for Vador to utter the word "Senator"...

i did… and then my hand slipped…

note: this kind of assumes Vader didn’t know Obi-Wan was still alive, but I wrote this on a whim and what even is canon anyway.

————————

It was the breathing that did it.

There were many terrifying factors to Darth Vader’s appearance, but it was the distinct mechanical hiss of his life-giving ventilator that scattered Keshian crew and nobles alike out of his way as he strode inexorably towards the bridge. A child stared in horror up at him from a side door before its mother pulled it away into the room. Metal creaked and bent before him as he pulled the bridge doors apart, stepping through the now-empty space like it was no big feat. The crew of the ship flurried around in a flustered rush, but at the middle one woman stood still, and there was something familiar about her as she turned towards him-

“Okay, what’s Jabba the Hutt’s middle name?” Hardcase grinned as the rest all shrugged. “The!”

Jesse and Fives groaned, but Ahsoka raised an eyebrow as Feli let out a soft laugh. “Where do you get all these jokes?”

“From the Darth Maul,” Hardcase said cheekily. “What do you get when you cross a bounty hunter with a tropical fruit? Mango Fett!” By then, Rex was facedown on the table, covering his ears, and even Padmé seemed to be over it. Feli was the only one who seemed to appreciate the riddles, and seeing her laugh was so different to Anakin than how she usually was, calm, composed and-

It was her.

The steadfast senator of Mochi (that idyllic Outer Rim planet that Padmé had dreamed of retiring to) was the very same woman who stood in front of Vader now. Feli Dashone. One of Padmé’s trusted allies, Hardcase’s one true love, the woman who hadn’t smiled since they’d gotten back from Umbara.

He should say something. ‘Feli’ hurt too much to say, so he went with the better option. Not that it didn’t hurt, just that it hurt less. “Senator,” he rumbled. “Or should I say traitor?”

“Lord Vader.” She was as cool and collected as ever, meeting his emotionless black mask with no trace of the fear that normally dogged his adversaries. “I see you and the Empire’s cronies have decided to… inspect our vessel. There’s no need. We’re on a diplomatic mission to-”

Vader had heard it all before. “You are aiding the Rebellion.”

“I am delivering food to refugees on Alderaan. Surely that is not a Rebel act.”

“It is when you also smuggled weapons, Imperial blueprints, and supplies to insurgents on Lothal on your way there.” He took a step closer; his large build cast a sharp grey shadow over her slight frame, but she did not flinch. “We found the manifest of your ship. Did you think your actions would not be discovered? You cannot hide from the might of the Empire.” He clenched one black-clad fist.

To his surprise, she actually took two steps closer, looking right through his tinted red lenses. “Tell me, Lord Vader. Are you so cold and bitter inside that the suffering of peoples in your jurisdiction matters nothing to you? Don’t you care about the thousands and thousands of beings, couples, families, children, who are dying all over the galaxy?” Her voice had taken on a soft, glowing fury, and she seemed to catch herself, leaning back and straightening her posture. “If the Empire won’t help them, I will. All I am doing is honouring the wishes of an old friend.”

He pretended nothing else she’d said had even reached his ears. “Then you know of other dissenters in the Senate.”

“Now? No. But many years ago, as I’m sure you’re aware, Senator Padmé Amidala passed away.” Padmé. There was a faint tugging in his heart, as if her memory, the mere mention of her name summoned longing of some sort inside him, and he did his best to dredge up all the anger and hate he could to squash it away. “Her last message in a hologram to me was to protect the people.” Among other things, Vader deduced, observing the way she seemed to be purposefully omitting something else that Padmé had said. “Surely you would not stand in the way of friendship. Surely you would not disgrace Padmé’s memory in this way…

“Anakin.”

It was only due to extreme effort that he didn’t jerk violently away from her. How-

“Master Kenobi paid me a visit on Coruscant the day the Republic fell,” she said, eyes glittering with savage satisfaction. “How could you. How could you betray everything you’ve ever known, everything you fought for? The Republic, the 501st, your family. Obi-Wan, the Jedi Order, Hardcase, Padmé.” She took a step closer, and he felt the temperature in the room — or just in his suit, maybe — plummeting as her voice dropped to a sharp whisper.

“Padmé would be ashamed if she saw what you’ve become.”

His fist tightened, something invisible crushing down around him, and as he clenched it closed, she dropped to the floor, motionless. Blinking away the red haze, he gestured to the stormtroopers standing awkwardly at the door. “Take her away.” One of them knelt, then seemed to freeze.

“Um, she’s dead, sir.”

Anakin.

Let her go!

It seems, in your anger, you killed her.

He pushed away the memories as the overhead lights sparked and flickered. “Then dispose of her. And burn this ship to the ground.” As we soon will destroy the Rebellion.

But first, he had one thing to take care of.

Master Kenobi paid me a visit the day the Republic fell.

Obi-Wan was still alive. That meant Vader had one last loose end to tie off.

—————————

yeah so I don’t know how to write Vader but I hope you liked my random little snippet sjdbjdbdjd

#Everydoors #asks #Vader #Darth Vader #Feli Dashone (OC)#Padmé Amidala #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Star Wars #Star Wars fanfiction #sw fanfic #Star Wars fic #Hardcase #Clone trooper Hardcase #Swift writes

18 notes · View notes

one-happy-silent-geek-girl · 2 years

Note

me when I want a random, non-canon way for two crossover characters to bond: hmm. ditch them in the desert so they can talk about tragic pasts and Feelings™️

Desert is always the right way to do it 😌 (Big part of the Becho fic happens in the desert, well, not that big but whatever)

#every talks #swift #moob #ask #swift writes

5 notes · View notes

ivynightshade · 6 months

Text

fatima aamer bilal, from i mother it the absence of her, iii. i am not a person that can be loved for a very long time excerpt from moony moonless sky.

11K notes · View notes

joytri · 5 months

Text

neil perry would've loved folklore

3K notes · View notes

kingofmyborrowedheart · 1 month

Text

Begging swifties to understand that Taylor didn’t write reputation and Lover with the knowledge of how the relationship was going to end and that trying to “excavate” those albums for evidence to prove a specific theory as to why it ended is not how they should be viewed. Taylor wrote those songs feeling a very specific way because that’s what she was experiencing and she is now reflecting on them with hindsight and relates to them differently than when she first created them. These conflicting emotions can exist; how she views it now doesn’t diminish how she felt about it when she first released it.

#taylor swift #don’t know if I’m expressing myself as properly and as articulate as I’d like #but both of the emotions she’s feeling about the songs can coexist #like little lover can still be a love song that’s what it was for her for a while #but she can also look back and say ‘oh maybe this wasn’t the best’ but it doesn’t void what it was originally #like I keep seeing things like oh she wrote this lyric in lover about him not showing up and it’s like no that’s not right #like yes you can see her underlying anxieties and fears in those songs because she was open about them #it doesn’t mean she predicted how it would end #there was a point in time where she thought this man was the one and would write about feeling that way

2K notes · View notes

songtwo · 9 months

Text

it's already been said but it's crazy how female artists in the 90s wanted nothing to do w the feminist label and yet the message they sent through their music was actually empowering due to its rawness and authenticity while nowadays everyone tries too hard to be a feminist and an ally and they just come off as fake and bland bc it's all this sugarcoated liberal white feminism #girlboss barbie 2023 and the worst part is ppl actually buy into that but get scared when they see anything sinead oconnor did

#Ppl thinking the man by Taylor swift is a radical piece of feminist writing...... grow up #kinda related but not quite . everyone used to look so different and unique while now they all have the same face and style

5K notes · View notes

anervousmirrorball · 3 months

Text

the tortured poets department tracklist (album out april 19)

#idk why i made this #just go with it i guess #in my handwriting*#tswift #tswiftedit #taylorswift #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #art #clearly i didnt think this through before writing the names #everything is not at the centre how its supposed to be #but i dont want to think too much about it 😭#also that's the reason I wasn't able to include the features names 😭😭

2K notes · View notes

natashaaromanova · 3 months

Text

all's fair in l o v e and p o e t r y.

#taylor swift #my edit #lyrics #ttpd #the tortured poets department #tortured poets department #ts11 #networkthirteen #tsedit #lyrics about poetry #lyrics about writing #ts and art #art #tswiftedit #tslyrics #tscreators

2K notes · View notes

cheekios · 3 months

Text

Please Bring Kaiser Home.

I have been having complications with managing my diabetes that have led me to be hospitalized twice. I live alone. Kaiser is a precious pup that specializes in detecting when blood sugar is too high or too low before it leads to complications. Something I have been struggling with. Kaiser would not only improve my quality of life but also be my companion and friend

I’m asking for community support get a Medical Alert Dog. It is a huge ask but any support is appreciated 💗

CA: $HushEmu

PP: [email protected]

1K notes · View notes

swift-creates · 14 days

Text

@chrumblr-whumblr day 6: tied to a chair

wc: 435 | warnings: kidnapped, does this technically count as torture child abuse or both, that trope where character is tied to a chair and being punched etc, blood, some swearing | characters: Damian Wayne (pov), Tim Drake

—

Damian pulled at the ropes around his wrists and wished they were handcuffs so he could dislocate his thumbs to get out of them. Or at least dodge the punch aimed at his head. But it landed, and his head snapped to the side, and he wished it even harder.

“Not so hard to clip the little birdie’s wings, now, is it, boys?” the lead henchman jeered, and his cronies laughed uproariously as Damian glared up at them, blood dripping from his mouth down his suit. “If you wanted a Robin with wings, you should have gone after Red Robin instead. But then, none of you low-level thugs seem to have much intelligence at all.” They stopped laughing. Damian allowed himself to admit that pissing off a bunch of men much larger than himself, especially when he was tied to a chair with no backup present, had been a bad move.

The leader bent to push his face uncomfortably close to Damian’s. “I’m gonna make you eat those words, kid. Think you’re all high and mighty and better than us, runnin' around with the Bat. Yeah” — he looked back and gestured to one of the others — “I’m gonna make you eat those words real quick.” The thug left, then came back with a hefty length of pipe and handed it to him.

Ah. Fuck.

“You gotta learn, birdie, that if ya mouth off like that, you ain’t gonna have a mouth soon enough.” The leader paced languorously in front of him once or twice, then pulled back, and Damian squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of metal on flesh and bone-

There was no impact. Instead, there was the sound of blows landing, then multiple heavy thuds, and he opened his eyes to see Tim standing over the incapacitated thugs.

“Only I get to threaten my brother, shithead,” he snarled, aiming one last kick at the leader before turning and crouching to cut Damian’s ties. “Where are you hurt?” “I am fine. A split lip does not qualify as an injury.” “An injury’s an injury, Dami.” Tim wiped the drip of blood away with a gloved thumb, and winced just as Damian did. The ropes fell away, and he stood, feeling strangely reluctant to let go of Tim’s arm. They started to walk towards the exit.

“I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.” Tim’s voice was hushed, and he didn’t look at Damian as they stepped through the doorway. But Damian looked up at his older brother, stopped walking, and nodded.

“I know.”

Then Tim did turn to smile at him.

“Good.”

40 notes · View notes

nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 1 year

Text

Giratina is often said to be Arceus' last child. By extension, this must make Palkia and Dialga the first and second.

Herein arises a problem, a longstanding debate, and its eventual resolution. Neither time nor space can be said to be greater or more important than the other; therefore, the two are held to be twins.

---

Volo's plan is quite simple. The meddling of Sinnoh's lesser servants cannot be tolerated. They must be dealt with somehow. And he knows of no limiter more effective—no chains more tightly binding, no prison more perfectly restrictive—than a human body.

The Pearl Clan's newest visitor—Ingo, if that is his name, though there's always that lingering uncertainty about it—he isn't sure how to answer any other questions about himself, either. His knowledge of Hisui is too strangely absolute for a newcomer. It suggests long familiarity with the territory—but if that's the case, why does nobody else in the region recognize him?

Irida presents the Lustrous to him, once, as is tradition.

It is agony.

Just standing in its presence is a pressure like the bottom of the deepest ocean, like a singular force bearing down on him without mercy. To touch it is—he suddenly feels as though his body cannot possibly contain him, like something is pulling him to pieces—the light of the pearl is blinding—

To provoke a reaction from Sinnoh's treasure is a sign of divine recognition. It usually isn't... like... that. But still, if you ignore that discrepancy—and the Pearl Clan is nothing if not good at ignoring discrepancies—it can only mean good things for a warden. Right?

---

Deities move on a glacial scale, or so it seems at times to humans. Nevertheless, imprisoning a god—binding it to a human form to prevent its intervention—cannot be without consequence. Nor will it go unnoticed by its fellows.

It takes Hisui a long time to notice, but reality has... gone strange. Eroded. The seas stretch on endlessly. Mount Coronet is a spear against a yawning void. The winter has become eternal; days are short and nights are long, and the more time passes—though perhaps that phrase is not so apt—the less rhyme or reason there is to the changing of the celestial bodies.

And far beyond, in a realm above both time and space, a once-dual, now-singular god rages...

#the nemesis speaks #swift writes #pokefic pitch #it is. SO late and i should not be awake. but do you ever just get slapped in the face with an idea #yes im sure someone else has pitched something like this DON'T CARE DIDN'T ASK #anyway #intentionally sort of vague bc i have a couple nebulous thoughts on how this could go #ingo is almost definitely palkia in this drabble and i like the thought of the pearl clan unknowingly #harboring their Deity. that's fun.#but there's also something very fun about him being *dialga* instead #and then there's the question of where the persona of ''ingo'' comes from. is that just the form palkia took for Reasons?#OR is ingo a Real Human Person who volo summoned via the rift—purely to use as a prison for the god #and now his consciousness is completely crushed and repressed by the deity.#options!#uuuughhh should i tag this with real tags or not ugghgh

46 notes · View notes

moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom · 1 year

Text

A/N: I had to write a fixit after being put through all of That 😭

As Andrey started to turn away, Goncharov found himself desperately saying, “Don’t do this, Andrey. This will only hurt all of us.”

Andrey’s hands shook, and his pocketwatch almost slipped out of his hands as he looked back at someone who had become closer than the associate he introduced him as, someone who almost reduced him to tears to betray. “There’s no other way.”

“Come back with me,” Goncharov begged. “Come back and we can explain it all. You know Katya won’t question it.”

Andrey closed his eyes for a long moment, willing his hands to stop shaking. Then he looked up and opened his mouth to reply-

The bone-shaking clang of metal on metal ripped through the air, and Andrey whirled to see Ice Pick Joe, barreling towards him with eyes full of righteous fury-

One, two, three gunshots ripped through the air. Ice Pick Joe stopped short and stumbled to the ground, clutching his leg in agony. Andrey looked up in wonder as Katya breathed out a long stream of smoke, dropping her cigarette beside the injured man’s head and stamping it out with one red flat. “You saved me,” he said in bewilderment.

“Of course I saved you,” Katya replied smoothly. “I love you, идиот.”

“And I love you.” Goncharov stepped forward to kiss his wife, but she held him at arm’s length.

“Not the time, sweetheart. First, you’ve got some explaining to do.” Katya jerked her head towards where a disgruntled-looking Sofia stood on the snowy bank.

Andrey and Goncharov looked at each other. They could live with that.

A/N: so I deviated a little from my usual writing style, but I hope you guys liked this! Make sure to R+R <33

#Swift writes #Goncharov #goncharov (1973)#Unreality #katya goncharov #Andrey #Sofia #Goncharov fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

one-happy-silent-geek-girl · 1 year

Note

so I have this AU where Shaak Ti is Neytiri’s sister, so the clonefam are the Sullys’ cousins. and the second Sully kid, Lo’ak is kinda the reckless sibling so he and Strike’s dynamic has me in a comedy chokehold-

“Aunt Neytiri. Beloved aunt. Most valued family member-” “What do you want, Strike?” Strike blinked up at the older Na'vi innocently. “Just to pass a message. Jesse wants to ask Neteyam and Lo’ak to go hunting with him.”

Setting aside the knife to pick up her bow, Neytiri studied her niece for a moment before slowly nodding. It seemed reasonable enough. “Go on, then.” She heard Strike scramble away in search of the two boys, and started to regret her decision the instant she heard a faint “Yes!” but tried to quell her feelings of doubt as Strike disappeared. After all, Jesse would be supervising them, too.

How much trouble could Lo’ak and Strike possibly get into with Jesse and Neteyam right there watching them? —————— The three young Na’vi leapt through the rainforest, sending flora and fauna fluttering around them as they went. Pausing before the jump to the next tree, Strike turned to Neteyam. “Neteyam. Best cousin. Most treasured family member.” “What?” he groaned. “Jesse is waiting for you right over there, so have fun.” Strike beamed at him brightly. “And don’t snitch!” his brother called back before the two bounded off towards the waterfall.

Neteyam sighed. As long as they didn’t fall in, they’d be fine, right? They had enough sense for that, at least.

(Right?)

[A Few Moments Later]

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

(that’s as much as I’ve got right know but. they launched themselves off the waterfall.)

Havens they're idiots... I love them-

#i hate the fact you kinda make me wanna watch the movies...#swift #moob #ask #swift writes #avatar #star wars #swift au

5 notes · View notes

ivynightshade · 5 months

Text

fatima aamer bilal, from coffin heart? bury me.

[text id: how did you get so close that i have to dissect you out from under my skin? / memory is a deathbed. remembrance is a grave. the memory of you is a scab that i keep picking so that it scars. a burn, a souvenir, something to claw at that claws back at me. / i refuse to be haunted by something less. / there's a sun-sized ache where your hands used to be. / and now that your place is empty, the blood in my heart pumps around nothing. / nothing. / nothing at all. / senseless circulation. / what am i to live for when i have made my body my casket? / where am i to go from here? / and i always knew longing had another name she wouldn't let me call her by — it's hunger. / my heart grew up to be far more starved than my stomach. / it's the things you learn in your childhood, from the words of your mother, from the hands of your father. / if your teeth do not graze my bones, i do not wish for you to kiss me. / how have i turned gentle love into such devastation? / such greediness? / i carry a coffin for a heart; everything i love must be buried. / plant your garden in the cracks of my skin—mud, gravel, everything. let my blood be water to cater to your needs. / terrible, terrible human, thinks barbarity and love are words of the same meaning. / a mad dog would be a far more gentle lover to the rocks being thrown at him. / and, my dear, i wouldn't ask you to fold me in the pages of your favorite book, just the embedment of fingers between my ribs. / how did you get so close that i have to dissect you out from under my skin? / GET CLOSER.]

2K notes · View notes