#Lullaby (2022)

[dearly]

Cinco Lobitos // Lullaby (2022)

[chiveburger]

just finished the movie “lullaby” and it was actually good… like compared to some of the more recent horror movies I’ve seen this one was surprisingly decent. to put it simply it talks about a witch that takes babies and there’s a baby for her to take in the movie. what I can really appreciate is that the husband and wife work together!!!! when it occurs to them something is wrong they listen and they take action and they CARE!!!!! the wife confides in her husband that she’s not okay and she is seeing things and her husband storms off… so she’s like “right if my crazy wife said something like this I’d be pissed too” and he comes back and he’s like “you’re not crazy…and I’m not upset” wow??? a man who actually respects his partner??? that’s unrealistic but nice to witness in fiction

[patwrites]

Of all the Religious Horror films I’ve seen, that was… one of them. Oona Chaplin always delivers and she was the highlight.

[orykorioart]

June 2023

How could you forget Lup?

[Image Description: A 5-panel illustrated comic featuring Taako and Lup in a limited color palette of pink, light brown, light red, purple, blue and yellow. Taako is is depicted with light brown skin and dark hair, which he ties behind his back. He wears a purple cloak. Lup is depicted with light brown skin and dark hair, which she ties in front of her. She wears a red cloak.

Panel 1: Young Taako and Lup, on both sides of a pot. Lup is stirring as Taako looks in. Below the panel is captioned with purple text:

“What’s the feeling”

Panel 2: Close-up of young Taako and Lup. You can see half of their face, and they are excitedly talking to each other. Below the panel is captioned with purple text:

“When you have a broken home, home, home?”

Panel 3: Pans down to young Taako and Lup’s torso. They are standing close to each other, indicating that they are holding hands. Below the panel is captioned, text in purple:

“Where’s the love when you were left on your own”

Panel 4: Taako’s hand, wearing the Bureau of Balance bracer. His hand is relaxed, but alone. There is a brief out line of Lup’s hand, reaching out for his. Below the panel is captioned with purple text:

“So alone”

Panel 5: Taako is standing center-frame, and you can only see the bottom half of his face and his torso. There is a single tear rolling down his cheek, his mouth slightly agape. He is grasping the Umbrastaff tightly in one hand, holding it close to his chest. There is a faint outline of a hand on his shoulder. Below the panel is captioned with red text:

“Who said you’re on your own?” End ID]

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Cinco Lobitos (Alauda Ruiz de Azúa, 2022)

[ashacidic]

NO ONE WAS GOING TO FUCKING DO THIS SO I TOOK MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS. EAT UP MFS

[annwhiskers]

One more batch of old book illustrations, I still have some individual ones to share.

[filmap]

Cinco lobitos / Lullaby Alauda Ruiz de Azúa. 2022

Bench Portu Kalea, 48360 Mundaka, Bizkaia, Spain See in map

See in imdb

[ashintheairlikesnow]

A Lot Like Christmas

CW: Pet whump, dehumanized whumpee, references to beatings and torture, burns, sadistic whumper

Antoni’s tag | Masterlist (scroll down)

For @amonthofwhump, day 3: Forced Celebration

-

On Christmas morning, the ashtray wakes up on his little cot in his tiny room to cold sunlight through the bars of his high, small window. His nose is so cold that it feels like it all but burns his hand when he presses a palm against it to warm it, burying himself even further under the scratchy but warm wool blankets he is given in winter.

The light makes a broken square on the floor, and he lays there watching it slowly move, bit by bit, as the quality of the light changes.

All down his back the newest burns ache and itch. They’re slathered with the heavy, healing cream that would keep him from scarring if Mr. Davies did not burn him again and again in the same places. As it is, his master is pressing new burns over old scars, and the ashtray shifts only a little as the itching grows with every second he thinks about it, gripping hands onto his collar to keep himself grounded, to feel safe.

Last night had been a night of bourbon, warm and brown in a glass, clove cigarette smoke down his throat filling up his lungs, holding perfectly still for every bright hot pain until finally he could not hold back his whimper. 

Last night had ended like so many nights end now, the smoke driven out of his throat by something he will not think about, will not remember, will simply put somewhere else in his mind. Mr. Davies, afterward, had fed him sips from the glass of bourbon and whispered, “It’s after midnight. Merry Christmas,” and sent him with a jar of the salve to his bed, to rub all the wounds he could reach and ignore, as hard as he can, the greater wounds inside.

A bird calls outside the window. 

Eventually, he hears the sound of Mr. Davies on the stairs, and he pushes himself up to seated and then to standing. His feet freeze on the chilly concrete floor, and he shivers in the loose sweats he is allowed to wear. 

It takes four steps to cross from bed to door, three if he lengthens his strides.

He opens the door, peering out into the hallway. The warmer air in the heated part of the house hits him like walking into a wall, and he comes to a sudden stop and lets his skin prickle and goosebump as it acclimates. The burns itch worse in warmth, but he ignores that and pads barefoot down the hall, walking on the heavy soft rug.

He can hear the clinking of silverware against dishes as he nears the kitchen. His own stomach twists, empty and light, at the scent of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls. He enters with his eyes down, letting his gaze move to Mr. Davies’s feet in his fuzzy fur-lined slippers.

“Ah, the lazy little pet wakes,” Mr. Davies says, with amusement. “Say Merry Christmas, darling.”

The ashtray looks up to follow his command, only to realize it isn’t meant for him.

Next to Mr. Davies is the woman, who looks at him with blank eyes that see but don’t comprehend. She just stares at him, blinking once or twice, and then says in a soft voice, “Merry Christmas.”

The ashtray thinks she probably had a lovely way of speaking, a long time ago. She forms each word like a singer, all enunciation and melody, but it’s a harsh rasp now, a broken violin voice. 

Her hair is perfectly curled and pulled back at her nape, with tendrils framing her face. Her lower lip is busted, a burst of bright red where she was bleeding, but she doesn’t even seem aware of it. She just puts a forkful of cinnamon roll into her mouth and chews. Any awareness she had of him seems gone in an instant. 

“Very good, love.” Mr. Davies is rubbing her back with one hand. If she tenses a little at the touch, it isn’t obvious beneath the warm, fluffy robe she wears in a deep royal purple lined with gold thread embroidery. “Say Merry Christmas, ashtray.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Davies. Merry Christmas, ma'am." The ashtray’s voice is low, carefully shaping each word to make his accent as slight as possible. He almost succeeds, and it’s enough to win a rare smile from his master. He doesn’t feel warm at the sight of it - only the absence of any new fear of punishment. 

“Come and eat,” Mr. Davies says, gesturing broadly. 

The ashtray’s eyes drop to discover an empty plate and set of silverware, a mug of steaming coffee with a little carafe of cream beside it. He dares to look back at Mr. Davies, and finds him smiling. 

"... at the table?”

“Yes, at the table, you brainless thing. Sit.” 

The ashtray moves forward, jerking like a puppet moved by strings, and finds himself sitting at the table staring across at the woman, who doesn’t look at him anymore, only off to the side, as if dazed or dreaming. There are bruises layered dark over her wrists, in the shape of the ropes Mr. Davies ties her with at night. She sleepwalks, he explained once to the ashtray, who had not asked. He’d said it like testing out the story, the way you practice a speech to a wall. She’ll wander out into the street and get hit by a car, you know. I have to keep her in one place. Anything could happen if she leaves.

There’s a threat, in those words, and the ashtray heard it. He only nodded, and wondered what in his face had made Mr. Davies feel the need to explain.

Her black eye from last week has nearly healed, which he knows only means another one is coming soon.

The cook puts a cinnamon roll on his plate, and the ashtray thanks him. He receives no reply, but he didn’t expect one either. 

Warm, fluffy cinnamon-sugar sweetness bursts in his mouth when he eats, and he shivers at how unfamiliar it is to eat warm food, or to eat anything that tastes this good at all. He exhales, and takes another bite, and another. Somehow, the whole thing disappears into his mouth before he even understands that he’s eating it.

He stops when Mr. Davies starts to laugh, with cruel good humor, and looks up, briefly meeting those cold eyes. 

“... Mr. Davies, I’m sorry, I did not mean to eat so quickly-”

“Hush. Call it a gift. I’ve nothing for you under the tree, after all.” He turns to the woman, who doesn’t look at him, only stares through the window at the trees outside, as if she could will herself out there if only she could remember how to walk out. Mr. Davies leans over to give her a kiss to the side of her head, and the ashtray watches her eyes briefly close, then open again to focus back on the world just beyond the walls.

“Darling,” Mr. Davies says in a low voice, “My ashtray and I need a smoke, I think. Will you go and wait by the tree for me? I’ll open your gifts for you afterward.”

The woman looks at the ashtray.

Just for a moment, something surfaces from beneath the still pool of her mind. She knows what happens when he and Mr. Davies are alone in the office, he thinks. And for just a second, he can see that she feels all the grief for him that he tries to feel for her.

Then her expression goes blank again and she nods, standing and drifting into the grand living room where the 12-foot-tall Christmas tree glistens with perfectly coordinated ornaments, tinsel, and a star on top.

The last the ashtray sees of her is how she sits on the couch with her hands in her lap, and turns her eyes back to the window.

Then Mr. Davies’s hand is on the back of his neck, and the ashtray’s stomach flips. Suddenly that perfect warm soft sweet bread sits like a brick in his stomach, and he wonders if he’ll keep anything down after they’re done. Sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes after-

But it’s not happening.

It doesn’t happen to him.

Not if he doesn’t let himself think about it.

Nothing happens in the office.

Mr. Davies is already lighting a cigarette, the scent of cloves is settling against his skin and soaking into his hair, his sweatshirt and sweatpants, burying itself so far down in his lungs that he will never escape the way it steals his breath.

The burns from last night itch.

The older ones do, too, as the ashtray follows Mr. Davies to the office and wonders where the new ones will go now.

His master’s hand rests at the base of the ashtray’s spine, stealing up under his sweatshirt to press like a brand against his skin. 

The ashtray burns long before the embers ever touch him.

Mr. Davies hums as he walks.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlinthesnep @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @emdeighamae @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[dearly]

LAIA COSTA in Cinco Lobitos / Lullaby (2022)

[rewatcher]

So, a little thing about Erza from my many times watching this:

She has a hard time picking up social cues. Especially early on. So, while everyone else knows that Gray and Natsu are clearly putting on an act, Erza doesn't see that. She legitimately believes they're good friends. Or at least believes that that's just how good / best friends act.

I don't know what to do with knowledge, so here you go.

[patwrites]

“I said shalom, bitch.”

Truly one of the lines of all time

[the-iceni-bitch]

Le plus pur, le plus émouvant

Kinktober Day 6: Omegaverse

Pairing: Alpha!Ransom Drysdale x wife!Omega Reader (YNGDTTGA)

Words: ~1.7k

Summary: You need your Alpha

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR YOU’LL NEVER GO DOWN TO THE GODS AGAIN, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, soft sex), mention of post-pregnancy symptoms, very soft protective Ransom with just a hint of soft!dark, anxiety, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Mentioned above but there are massive spoilers for the future of Ransom and bunny so if you want to read the story chronologically, skip this one!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

You couldn’t stop pacing as you waited for your Alpha to come home, the frustration and anger you had felt through the bond all afternoon making it almost impossible for you to stay in your nest with your pup even though he had told you he wanted you to rest. But you couldn’t when you were constantly feeling that thread of agitation tugging at your hindbrain, knowing that he must have been especially upset if he wasn’t able to mask the bond.

He was close now, you could feel him, cooing and purring unconsciously to try to soothe yourself and your pup when you felt her stir against your chest as you kept rocking her gently. Hopefully he wouldn’t be angry at you for not letting the nanny take her when you left the nest, but the only thing that managed to keep you even slightly calm when he wasn’t there was feeling her tiny heartbeat fluttering against your chest. She was so precious and small and you didn’t trust anyone else to take care of her.

Then you heard the slam of a car door and keened when you felt his presence drawing nearer, kissing the top of your baby’s head and trying to take deep breaths while you braced yourself to greet your Alpha. As soon as the door opened and you saw him you started to feel better, the sight of his face relaxing when he set eyes on you making you preen as you shuffled to meet him.

“No, bunny, what are you doing out of the nest?” The stress of having to deal with fucking asshole congressmen all day disappeared immediately when he saw you, dropping his case and rushing to you when he heard you let out another distressed sound. “Where the fuck is the nanny? And your nurse? I’m gonna tear that fucking agency apart…”

“I was so worried, I could feel how angry you were.” You whimpered when he scooped your little girl into one arm while he wrapped the other around your waist, chirping when he scented your hair and running your hands over his chest. “Who made you so upset? My Alpha, I hate when you’re not here.”

“Oh god, bunny, I know, shh.” Ransom tried not to snarl openly when the nanny finally showed up and took the babe from him, crooning softly at you when you tried to reach out for her as he wrapped you in his arms and slid a hand to cradle the back of your neck. “She’s asleep, it’s okay. I’m done with this bill now, bunny, I won’t have to leave you again for a long time, I promise.”

“Ha-hate it, need you.” You gazed up at him with watery eyes as you let out a pathetic little hiccup, gripping the front of his shirt in your fists and rising on your tiptoes so you could scent his neck. “We both need you, don’t feel safe when you’re not here, my Alpha.”

“Bunny, baby, I’m here. I’d never let anything happen to you.” He let his chest rumble against yours when he heard you whimper, kissing the crown of your head and trying to send soothing reassurance through the bond. “Do you want me to hire more security, bun? I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I just want you.” You trilled when his fingers brushed over your mark, kissing the hollow of his throat and winding your arms around him while you tried your best to crawl into his skin. “You’re the only one who can protect us, only one I trust. Our nest is so empty when you’re not here.”

“I know, sweet bunny, I’m sorry.” Ransom chuffed when he finally felt you starting to relax, rubbing his cheek against your temple and holding the nape of your neck before tilting your face up as he kept trying to calm you. “My Omega.”

His fingers pressed on your gland and you melted instantly, sighing when he lifted you off the ground and started to carry you towards your bedroom. When he scruffed you like this it made you feel like you were floating, purring as you nuzzled at his chest and squeezed your thighs together when slick started leaking out of you.

Ransom really did hate leaving you, even before he’d finally managed to breed you. You were so sensitive and soft and ever since you had the baby you were even more prone to anxiety, the scandal that surrounded your wedding and all the court hearings leading you to withdraw even more until you refused to leave the house unless it was absolutely necessary. He did love that, though, knowing that you were protected and that none of those fucking activists could try to make a mascot out of you. You were his, he never wanted anyone else to touch you ever again.

“Alpha…” your voice was low and sultry and full of need when he finally laid you down in your nest, the combined scent of both of you along with his weight on top of you making you feel safe and sated, your limbs curling around him once he finally slid out of his clothes and started pressing his lips to your skin.

“Tell me what you need, Omega.” He kissed the insides of your wrists softly and purred when you chirped for him, rubbing his nose up your arm until he could bury his face in your throat and inhale your scent, his nostrils flaring when even more slick poured out of you and stained your sheets. “My ‘Mega, lemme take care of you. Are you swollen at all, bunny? When was the last time she ate?”

“‘M okay, oh!” You gasped when he unbuttoned the front of your nightgown and cupped your breasts as he kept chuffing into your hair, your tongue sliding across your bottom lip as you writhed underneath him. “She ate just a few hours ago… please, I need your knot, Alpha, always feel better when you’re inside me, my Alpha.”

“Omegamine, shhhhhhh.” Ransom crooned against your cheek as he rolled you onto your side, settling behind you and running his hands over your shoulders as he pressed his lips to the mark of your bond while you melted into him. “My good girl, so sweet for me, so warm.”

The feeling of your soft cunt stretching to take him as he slid inside you almost made him lose it, his lips increasing their pressure on your gland as you arched your back and let your body sink into him. He was still so tender with you, though, gently cradling your chin in one hand while the other held your waist as he slowly rocked his hips into you.

Every soothing sound he made against your skin was like a balm for your heart, the waves of affection and love and calm he was sending through the bond making warmth bloom in your chest. You never felt more content than when you were full of him, cooing and whimpering every time his hips met yours as you leaned your cheek in his palm.

Ransom groaned when he felt your cunt start to clench around him in waves, the arm around your waist pulling you closer as his lips trailed over the back of your neck. He let you press your body back into his as he kept slowly moving, knowing how much better you felt when as much of your skin as possible was touching his.

“My good girl, letting me take care of you, giving you what you need, my ‘mega.” His teeth scraped over your mark and you let out a long whine, gushing all over his cock and letting your eyes flutter closed as you lost yourself in him. “You feel better, bunny? I know you do, know how to take care of my ‘mega, what this sweet body needs. Tell me how it feels, bunny.”

“Alpha, it’s so good, so full.” You were floating at this point, nothing in your brain but your Alpha and his cock and the way he held you so gently and made you feel loved. “Don’t stop, don’t leave me.”

“Never, I’ll never leave you, bunny.” He felt tears starting to leak down your cheeks and rumbled to soothe you, sucking on your gland and waiting until he felt pure bliss starting to seep through the bond before he sank his teeth into your mark.

Your entire body vibrated as you fell apart with a choked off wail, your pussy fluttering wildly and milking Ransom’s cock while you deepened the arch in your back and begged him for more. He knew what the change in your breathing meant, what you wanted when you made that soft breathy whine. Ransom rolled you onto your stomach as he kept his body pressed close to yours, driving into you slow and deep and keeping his teeth sunk into your mark as he grew closer to his own pleasure.

The only warning you had was a soft grunt he let out into your skin before his knot swelled and his cum started spurting into your swollen cunt, sinking into the bed with a moan when he locked inside you even as his hips kept rolling against your ass. You purred when he wound his fingers through yours once he was finished, turning your head so he could nuzzle at your cheek while he breathed heavily.

“My bunny, is that better?” He kissed your temple and smiled softly when you nodded, rolling you back onto your sides as his knot started to go down but he kept himself buried in your soft heat. “Do you need food? Water? I know you have trouble eating when you’re worried, bunny.”

“Mm, I am hungry, Alpha.” You sighed when he pulled out of you, letting him grab a warm cloth to clean between your legs before he helped you pull your nightgown back on and tucked you under the blankets. “I want her back, Alpha, please?”

“Of course, bunny, whatever you need.” Ransom kissed you softly before pulling on a pair of sweats and heading towards the kitchen, he was going to have to call Rogers about keeping the fucking lobbyists off his back until it was time for the vote, there was no way he was leaving you again until he knew the fucking staff he hired to take care of you could do their fucking jobs.

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Cinco Lobitos (Alauda Ruiz de Azúa, 2022)

[ashacidic]

So cold, why is it so cold . . ?