#ask ig

[ashlynbannerofficial]

What your favorite thing about ballet? I hope you have a great day!!

i like doing turns the most, especially in outfits with a bunch of fabric. its kinda hard to pick, since i love pretty much everything about ballet. i love the music and outfits, and i love being able to do fun stuff in pointe shoes even if it kinda hurts

have a good day

[guyspizzapie]

i saw ur username pop up in my notifs and i absolutely adore it

that is all

have a kitty

Omg thank you so much i love your blog too, also that’s a splendid cat pic and i’m forever in your debt for you blessing me with that lmao

(My entire response is black when i type so i probably sound like a boomer lmao sorry)

[juunipupu]

Knight and the enemy within

[flonflonflon]

beautiful blue acrobat birb,,

[o0kawaii0o]

Happy pride!

[kabumisun]

read left - > right

she ace on my trap til i pola

[sloppypears-ash-sg]

If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to 10 of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better >:D

Already received one, lol! But thanks!!!

[sloanslone]

Naiad Telemachus (au comes from my beloved anon yet again-they can cook fr)

Close ups:

I CANNOT draw seafood :D

[ourdadai]

୨୧ lisa ( blackpink ) lockscreens.

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[ashlynbannerofficial]

creeps into your inbox

hi ashlyn you look very nice today

creeps out of your inbox

?? thank you

dont creep around my inbox

[chez-cinnamon]

I just saw a post with Caine in Kinger's robe and I immediately wondered what that would be like in your au because Kinger is BIG and Caine is NOT. It'd be a whole hill of robe with Caine's head popping out of the fluff somewhere. Kinger could genuinely trap Caine with that robe bc Caine panics and forgets he can literally teleport.

For sure, Kinger's coat is HUGE on Caine no matter what size Kinger is; even at his smallest, his coat is like the size of two bed blankets!

He loves sleeping in it thinking he's in Kinger's arms. He considers it a safe space whenever he gets stressed out <3

Though it can be unnerving when he steals it to sleep in-

[caruliaa]

staff still hasn't given me polls, what should i do?

🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their moms 69%

🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their dads 31%

grace image os i get to look at her

[ping-ski]

sugar daddy eclipse is real finally

[bigbraveboop]

hello vat7k nation

[tojisun]

that one post about dadbod simon service topping but also him holding you by your hips/waist and grinding your clit against his tummy when he’s bottomed out and smiling so softly at the little noises you let out and cooing at you about how good you’re being and dadbod simon telling his puppy to take what they need and detonates and leaves this ask all over your ceiling

cw: daddy kink

holy shit.

this would have him murmuring, “shh. shh, baby. breathe f’me, yeah? c’mon kid, breathe f’me.” while he slowly moves your body so that you’re rutting onto him.

your hardened clit bumps against the pudge of his gut, making you mewl because s’too much and not enough at the same time, and he just coos as your tears spill like jaded glass.

and you’re still shaking on top of him when simon pulls his hands away, only to click his tongue in quiet scolding at the resounding whine you let out, dejected by his actions. he purses his lips after, and his eyes are all furrowed in faux disappointment.

it makes him look so mean.

simon wipes away a cascading tear before cupping your cheek.

“y’ve got to work for what y’want, pup,” he breathes out in a quiet tut. “gotta show me that y’mean it when y’say y’need daddy.”

there it was—the blatant use of your desires, crooning it like it’s a dirty secret that only the two of you are privy to. and he still looks at you with those pursed lips as though his cock didn’t twitch at the playful tone he uses, like the patronizing lilt in his words didn’t turn him on too.

but you’re so twitchy, and his sweet pup, that all that his taunts evoke is a resolute nod and a quiet puff of your breaths. simon murmurs something unintelligible, all of it is lost in the overwhelming affection it came with, before he pulls his hands away again to watch you.

make no mistake—his eyes are just as greedy as his hands. just because he is not touching you right now, at this moment, doesn’t mean simon isn’t mapping the stretch of your fat, and the ripple of your skin, and the tensing of your muscles as you ride up-up-up, until you are just hovering above the head of his cock.

you had planted your hands on the plane of his stomach, your fingers digging into his fat and you had to rip your eyes away from the beautiful sight it makes—it was always so beautiful when it’s your turn to leave a dimpling touch—to look at him. simon’s biting at his bottom lip to contain his smile. he sees the question in your eyes; the way you’re still asking for permission like the good pup you are. he lets out a quiet chuckle and gives a single nod. then, you’re dropping down.

pleasure explodes from within you, your mind pressing against the cages of your skull at the ripping intensity, and simon didn’t need to say more, do more, before you begin to ride him in earnest, using him to chase your orgasm.

he’s offered himself up to you, after all—

oh, what a good daddy he is.