#there's a dead girl in the pool

[chloelouygo]

Journal page setup for next week! I suck at using Tombows, I just can't vary my pen pressure enough to get the amazing bujo aesthetic for writing 😅

[lanaswansblog]

[tasteofgrave]

this was always going to happen. she’s been dead since the beginning.

lake mungo (2008) // hannibal (2013) // @heavensghost // sharp objects (2018) // penelope scott // twin peaks (1990) // richard siken // twin peaks (1990) // hannibal (2013) // hannibal (2013) // nina auerbach // twin peaks: fire walk with me (1992) // anne rice // interview with the vampire (2022)

[sunseabeachpoolbabes]

All woman body 👌🏽😍🥰😻

[necrotic-nephilim]

what are your favourite batcest ships and why?

AAA i love this question so much. i'm going to limit myself to a top five, because otherwise, i'd just end up listing all of them. the true joy of batcest is they're all so good for such different reasons and there are so many unique dynamics you can explore.

JayTim - it's funny bc, before i started this blog, i don't know if i would've put these two losers as my number one. but because i've done so much deep diving into their dynamic and i write them the most, i think it'd be a disservice for them to be anything *but* number one. their canon dynamic is just. so fun to play with. i truly love all of their interactions, particularly pre-Flashpoint. the concepts of Tim holding such contempt for Jason while Jason is weirdly obsessed with Tim. i'm a fan of Hannibal and Killing Eve and well. if this isn't a Hannigram-coded ship idk *what* is. i like ships where love and hate co-exist and there's no real "happily ever after", just fucked up co-existing, where they crawl back to each other like a bad habit and really, this ship is that so perfectly. the themes of jealousy in the Robin mantle. Tim wearing Jason's Red Robin suit to punish himself. i will likely never shut up about them. even in the New-52, there's such a substance to them, though the dynamic is wildly different. they will always be so weirdly dependent on each other's existence. i love them.

BruDick - you can't outdo the doer, i fear. i think i like BruDick mostly for the history of it, yk. there's genuinely *so much* queer history seeped into the homoeroticism of Batman and Robin, these two have been a symbol for queer people for decades. but the ship itself has so many dynamics i love. problematic age gap, "are we family or lovers", "i can't be in a room alone with you without getting into a screaming match but if you called i drop everything for you". all of it. i especially favor 80s/90s BruDick when they were in their divorce era just because it's so messy. Dick has canonically said he would die for Bruce, even during their arguments. no matter what, these two will always be single-mindedly devoted to each other. there will be other Robins, but none of them will compare to Dick Grayson, for Bruce. it's a unique and complicated bond that has endless layers to peel back. they always crawl back to each other bc no one else will match their level of intensity.

DamiTim - years and years ago, when i was a teen trying to people-please with how i existed in fandom, i used to insist i didn't like batcest and found it icky and gross. but there was one DamiTim fic that was my exception. that fic was my fucking roman empire. i reread it like once a year even though it's not completed and likely never will be i do not care. so now that i've killed the morality police in my head and i let myself ship what i actually want to ship, this ship holds a top place in my heart just bc of that fic alone. but in general i do fucking love their dynamic. similar to JayTim there's just so much mutual hatred in these two that has endless potential. Damian's insistence to not see Tim as a Wayne and as a legitimate brother/heir to Bruce is something you can play a lot if you give Damian an angry, fucked up crush on Tim he doesn't want to admit to. they have so many reasons to dislike each other, so to try to get them to slowly fall in love is a fun challenge. they either have a long complicated forgiveness arc and end up a happy married couple or they are the couple that tries to kill each other once a week. no in-between.

JeanTim - there's like. one person here on tumblr who goes as hard for this ship as i do and truly god bless them bc they feed me. Jean-Paul is too underrated in the batcest scene. once i reread Knightfall, i will have to help popular this tag on ao3. i enjoy both a very fucked up version of this ship during the peak of the Knightfall arc, where Jean-Paul is deep in his murder Batman era and Tim is trying to stop him to no real avail, but i *also* think there's so much you can do with the ship afterwards, where Jean-Paul is trying to make up for what he's done and be a better person and better hero. they're the peak Batman/Robin ship, to me. they truly care about each other, but have a very complicated/bloody history and i just. man i love it so dearly. i've been meaning to write a fic where Jean-Paul goes to Tim post the Sword of Azrael (2022) arc to properly discuss and apologize for all his actions in Knightfall for his personal healing and they end up fucking. it could be sweet and cute or kinky fun bc what is the joy of a character with that much Catholic guilt if you don't give them a weird religious kink.

BruCarrie - The Dark Knight Returns got me into comics and i will defend it till the day i die. Carrie Kelley can be pried from my cold dead hands. i just really love these two? Carrie took one look at that cranky old bastard and decided she was his problem. and Bruce is at a stage where he should be very averse to the idea of having a Robin, he knows it's a bad idea. but he just. accepts her anyway. idk how to explain their dynamic other than she plunks herself in his lap and stitches up his wounds while telling him he's an idiot and he lets her even if he's grumbling about it. they have the biggest age gap of any Batman/Robin ship and for that, they should get like. a dead dove gold star no matter how rare the pair is.

also honorable mention goes to BruTim, because *god* do i love the concept of Tim offering himself up to Bruce as Robin in every way, knowing that there are likely sexual/romantic implications to being Robin. it's one of my favorite flavors of batcest to exist. i don't view them as a "happily ever after" ship, because Bruce will always go back home to Dick, but it's a fun lil dead dove moment.

[theredghostart]

[elizabeth-mitchells]

oh sure they can save sayid who was shot in the stomach like 2 days and 30 years ago but they can't resurrect juliet just because she died???? homophobia

[ellieisbored3537]

Songs I love with repeating lyrics!

(There's like 20 more but i can't fit them 🙁)

[dailykugisaki]

Day 339 | id in alt

Our dearest Knight.

[justanotherjaydrawing]

can't stop won't stop. i have boys to draw being sad.

anyway there's a dead girl in the pool.

[lxtoxicunicornxl]

I present to u sailor Deadpool lol✨✨

Completely took this design from an ai photo that was floating around 🥲

✨🌸🧍🏽‍♀️psst I also still got commissions up

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Embrace

Zelda woke to am embrace.

It was... lukewarm. Cold initially, and soaking wet, but with hot breath on her shoulder, with shivering muscles and a foggy mind and desperate strength holding her close.

What was...? The last thing she remembered was...

Blinking to get water out of her eyes (water? Why was there water?), Zelda turned her head to see dirty blonde hair plastered to wet skin and clothes, she recognized the light blue immediately, the sword on his back.

"Link...?" she breathed.

When--how did she get home? She'd swallowed the secret stone, and--

Link held her tightly, and Zelda's eyes stung with tears as she laughed.

I'm home.

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #26: Zip

“Heartlight.” She didn't respond, her blind eyes averted to the floor as candlelight flickered warmly against her skin. “…You did this on purpose.”

It wasn’t a question. Sawyer’s short knife cut through the leather and binding that adorned her back, her old uniform clinging to her with sweat and grime. She’d donned it that morning in something of a ritualistic habit. Something of a second skin that was made for this particular purpose. That purpose? A large hand clapped on her shoulder, another on her arm. Soemrnahct and Autgar both. The undead they’d encountered before, the large sigils that flickered with older magicks- Her Hawk had spoken names of civilizations as curses. She hadn’t cared much to parse which they had been- had begun a larger call to others to come in. To assist. Especially given she was so particularly and uncomfortably incapable against this sort of threat. Instead she would do as the woman she was would never have. Or, at the least, would never have thought to do.

“Here!” Her voice echoed through the clearing they’d made, tents set and raised, as her wings opened wide to feel all within its boundaries. A base camp to help the delve, to provide support to those hauled back up from wounds or wear, to provide supplies and succor for anyone else who needed it. Something that was, she supposed, commonplace to create. Commonplace insomuch as it was due course. But rare, instead, to have it staffed and capably maintained by a proper number of chirurgeons and healers. Luckily for all of them she was rather practiced. Turns spent in the Crystarium at the worst of it had refined much of her capabilities. And her love’s wings given unto her had given her something of a reach that any doctor would be jealous of- That is to say. It was a camp entirely staffed by her. Her wings dipped by makeshift beds, her hands collated tinctures and passed them to those who would need them, her voice barked out to direct the directionless to exactly where she needed them. It was something that would have been unmanageable to most, unmanageable to her, but she had found something rather pleasing in the chaotic orchestra. To slip her wings between each soul to where they were needed most whilst still keeping her feet moving and her mind sharp for all the places where her senses felt. This, of course, had some problems. The quarantine force lasted a week. By the time three suns had come and gone, some had noticed that she had yet to stop- The eagle-eyed among them, or hawk-eyed in one particular case, had noticed she had all but ceased to sleep as well. A switch flipped, her uniform on, her wings and feet and hands unending in the succor given as undead were cleared and magicks disrupted.

Thus. The final day. And she was being cut out of her clothes with a knife.

The zipper on the old robes had broken at some point amidst the orchestrated chaos. That was not counting the fact that once all of the excitement was at its end, once there was not someone in immediate need of her attention, once there was no longer the threat of a wound or injury… Amesha was found approximately a bell before sunset. Facedown in the dirt with her wings scattered about the base camp. She was lucky enough to be found by one of the few who’d chosen to assist her directly- Fast enough to get her to a bed with help, fast enough to get her out of the eyes of anybody that might get overly concerned by a raen woman collapsed and unresponsive after she’d been nothing but a whirlwind for a week straight.

“You know I wouldn’t have agreed to any of this had I known you weren’t sleeping at night,” Came the Hawk’s exasperated voice, each syllable punctuated with a pause as she carefully slipped the blade down the back of her robes. “Or eating properly. Or drinking properly. In fact I highly doubt you spared yourself much of a moment’s thought the entire time…” Amesha remained silent as the knife was quietly set aside. As Sawyer’s hands reached around her to clasp at her middle and pull her in close. She couldn’t turn her head, she couldn’t speak up- “I know you’re not speaking on purpose. I should call you a hypocrite, my heartlight, the way you admonish me for my focus upon things that drives me late into the night and until the sun comes the next morn. I should properly tell you that I’m disappointed in this. That I wished you would care for yourself better. It reminded me all too much of…” She turned her head as both of them dwelled on memories best left forgotten. As they kissed quietly, gently, until neither of them could bear to let the silence continue. “…The bough spread wide,” Amesha finally spoke up. “To help so many. So many memories returned. Could not bear, then, to allow even one to be left out of the oasis’ healing touch…” Sawyer sighed once more as she took up her knife. As she fiddled with the busted zipper. One more cut left Amesha free of them once again. And she fell backwards into her lover’s arms.

[sunseabeachpoolbabes]

Amazing beauty 😻😻😻😻😻🥰😍❤️😋😘

[milo-is-rambling]

[cuhdasdf]

feeling not funny recently, no fanart this time