s:ravenous

Rating: Mature / PG-13 through NC-17
TImeline: Season 7
Summary:  Fresh off a particularly brutal case, Mulder tries to finally make good on his promise to take Scully on a nice trip to the forest, only to stumble onto evidence that there may be more to a local urban legend than just rumor and superstition.

A/N: Special thank yous to @kateyes224​ for being the best friend and beta extraordinaire for this beast, @2momsmakearight​ for the non-stop brainstorming, and @gilliansboobs​ for the unwavering support through my late night meltdowns while writing this and the amazing gif and banner.  I couldn’t have done this without you guys xo




PART 1

Her shoulder muscles screamed at the tension that had twisted into them, the hours of hunching over the paperwork of the case and his profile notes etched out sloppily across lined sheets.  The rolling of her neck did little to pacify the muscles, instead they coiled tighter and burned like fire up to base of her skull.

The keypad above the doorknob beeped twice and flashed a green light as Mulder swiped the card and unlocked the door to their motel room, then stepped aside, allowing her to cross the threshold first.

“I’m exhausted,” she said as she dropped her coat onto the chair.  Neither of them made a move towards the lamp, content in the quiet that the darkness offered.   Instead, he pressed his chest to her back, his arms wrapping around her waist, and a deep sigh reverberated through her signaling to him that her eyes had drifted closed and she was finally allowing herself to relax.  The past few days had gotten to her just as much as him, though she’d never admit that to him.  Always the strong one.  Always ‘fine.’

“I’m sorry you got as wrapped up in this case as you did,” he whispered in her ear, his arms tightened around her.  “As much as I appreciate that you were there, I hate that you had to see me that way.”

She turned in his arms, running her hands up the length of them to the back of his neck, pulling his face close enough so that she could press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

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PART II / FINAL CHAPTER

Read Part 1 here

Rating: Mature / R
TImeline: Season 7
Summary:  Fresh off a particularly brutal case, Mulder tries to finally make good on his promise to take Scully on a nice trip to the forest, only to stumble onto evidence that there may be more to a local urban legend than just rumor and superstition.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN, PHILES!  Special thank yous to @kateyes224​ for being the best friend and beta extraordinaire for this beast, @2momsmakearight​ for the non-stop brainstorming, and @gilliansboobs​ for the unwavering support through my late night meltdowns while writing this and the amazing gif and banner.  I couldn’t have done this without you guys xo



Again, please read Part 1 or you’ll be more lost than Mulder and Scully in this story.

He could feel its weighty presence on the other side, sitting there just waiting for him to move, and his heart quickened as he watched four fingernail impressions press into the thin fabric just inches from his face, scraping painfully slow down the length of it to the ground.  The long, vibrating sound it produced was nearly deafening in the quiet of the night, followed by a staccato clicking, like stone tapping against stone, repetitively.

They were outnumbered.  Greatly.  His eyes flicked to the location of the gun, as he mentally calculated the length of time it would take for him to get to it, and dig it out of the bag.  It would create too much commotion, probably take too long, and he’d risk Scully getting hurt or attacked in the process.

The clicking grew louder as it got closer to the tent wall.

Careful to keep still, he shifted his eyes towards a still sleeping Scully, his eyes pleading with her to stay asleep, to keep quiet.  He’d wait it out, he decided. The animals would lose interest eventually, he reasoned to himself.  They had to.

And suddenly all he could hear was receding footsteps, growing quieter and quieter, then nothing but the crackle of the fire outside.

With a sigh of relief and one last look in the direction of the gun, he turned towards Scully and pulled her close.  It would be a long night.

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Bunny-boiler

After my conversations with @jokerteeth, I was thinking about Ravenous’ confounding of genre, and came to the conclusion that what it most closely resembles is the subset of what could be called domestic horror exemplified by Margaret Atwood‘s The Robber Bride, and an astoundingly large number of movies starring Michael Douglas: Ravenous is a story about the strange, threatening unknown, and its potential to destabilize the safe and accepted order of family and community.  Which is, frankly, ironic, because it’s a film, in part, about Manifest Destiny: we, white Americans, were the monster, all along.  The call was coming from inside of the house.

In Colqhoun/Ives, we find an archetype usually embodied by a woman.  Specifically, a kind of hypersexual ice queen that marries the twin male terrors of sexual and emotional insatiability, and uncontrolled aggression.  A woman who, in short, behaves like a man.  In Ravenous, any sexuality in beneath the surface- barring Hart’s admonition to Cleaves that he isn’t to sleep with strange women on the road, and whatever Boyd‘s implying when he asks Ives if he ate Mrs. McCready, in addition to her husband- but only just.  In media, cannibalism is usually framed as an act of contempt for the weak by the superhuman, but Ives constantly acknowledges his own vulnerability, to the point of playing it up for his own benefit.  When he talks about eating people- and his known victims are almost exclusively men- there’s no evidence of that contempt, but of desire- desire to feel the potency of another inside of him, “someone brave”.  These are the terms he uses when he attempts to ensnare Boyd, as well as the imagery of hearth and home: they need someplace to peacefully live and prey upon others- the country wants to be whole, it stretches out its arms- when they kill, they won’t break up families.  The temptations that Ives lays before Boyd are those usually associated with women: the femme fatale’s unfathomable hedonistic delights, and the good wife’s cozy household.

Like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, Ives won’t be ignored.  When Boyd won’t give him what he wants, he takes it.  Instead of killing Boyd outright, he forces Boyd to accept his unholy marriage.  First, he comes for Boyd‘s body, penetrating him with a knife, leaving him almost at the point of death.  Then, he comes for Boyd‘s heart and soul, with the stew he made himself, from the remains of Knox, served to Boyd by his thrall, Hart, before a warm fire in the comfort of the parlor.  Ives has washed the blood from his face, and attired himself gorgeously in burgundy.  He’s a feast for the eyes.

Interestingly, Boyd‘s revenge is as feminine-coded as Ives’ seduction/destruction.  Boyd uses the very home that Ives wrecked against him.  He literally drops a house on Ives.  Finally, he forces Ives into a massive bear trap, which evokes both the mouth of a great predatory beast, and a vagina dentata that would make Sigmund Freud weep.  In its clutches, they lie together in a tableau that evokes both sexual coupling and a conciliatory embrace.  It’s a scene of claustrophobic intimacy, the camera held close on the men’s faces: Ives’ slightly amused look of surprise and resignation; Boyd’s grimace, which evokes both sexual ecstasy and spiritual agony.  Finally, both men have what they want, in spirit, if not to the letter: someone knows the truth about who each man is, and accepts it, and him.  Boyd’s self-loathing is finally irrelevant, extinct: he’s not cowardly, and he’s not brave, either- he’s just dead.  Ives is locked in an embrace he can’t escape, finally full of something that will stop his hunger forever.  He wanted Boyd, and he got him.  He’s not alone anymore.  In Ravenous, it’s your emotions that truly make you a monster.

My finished cover for Ravenous, a 4 issue comicbook project written by Fabian Rodriguez, art by Icarus Hall, coloring by Jurgen Kuqi, lettering by Taylor Esposito and editor Kirsten Thompson.

The art and script quickly catched my eyes and had full freedom about style and ideas, so it has been a pleasure be a part of this.

Ravenous is a 4-issue miniseries set in a tropical fantasy world highly reminiscent of Costa Rica. It tells the story of a group of animal rights activists who find themselves in grave danger when they become entangled in the schemes of a ruthless alchemist who is performing brutal experiments on animals and humanoids alike.

Logo by César Acuña

themindofdante  asked:

"Well, Well, Well"

How long had it been since a woman lay in his bed; or even a man?

Ives couldn’t exactly remember the last. Not since he left the blonde and her pathetic priest. If anyone had come after them. It was all a blur. The killings and the thrill of it all. It was almost like he was back in the trail days. When killing wasn’t such a crime more than a lost art.

“Shit..” He sat back in the office chair and rubbed at his pants. It had been too long since he’d been satisfied. The thought of fucking was getting to him. Since the only thought he could think of with fucking. Was a man lapping at his cock and a woman pouting as he was fingering her. Between those images and a ‘proper’ meal. Francis Ives was jerking himself and letting go of any of his inhibitions. Without the thought of anyone or anything around him.

As if anyone would actually be after him.

Well, well, well.’ 

Francis Ives froze and turned around slowly. Away from the window he’d been staring out. “I can explain..” He speaks noting the dead body in the room and himself with his hand around his cock. “I-I was just, well..” Ives grabbed for the pistol on the desk and dove under the table. 

“Move and I’ll shoot your god damn kneecap!” Ives barked off. Holding the gun aimed at the bastard who’d come in the room. 

Fucking bastard, can’t even enjoy a fuckin’ wank!