#ravenous fanfiction

[x3no9]

Ravenous fanfiction ! Revisiting this Ives x Boyd love and gore-fest. It's a great Halloween feast.

Used AI to enhance some of these. ENJOY!

[dreams-amuck]

Untameable Hunger

A lightly shaded pencil style sketch commission I did of Lieutenant Boyd(left) and Colonel Ives(right) inspired by @x3n09's tasty fic on Ao3 called Hunger. Give their stuff a read it's *chef's mf kisssss*🥵😩🤌

Support me on ko-fi or commission me to get your own spicy drawing. 🤭😘

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny held up a large sign from the background like a man at an airport as thier leader, Robin, gave his report to this "Justice League". The first sign said, "Help! I'm surrounded by daddy issues!" Earning a laugh from someone off camera. He then pulled the next card out from behind the first one.

"Can you send air fresheners? It smells like teen angst in here"

This one got a cackle from someone on the Justice League side of things. Score. No one here really wants to laugh. They're all edgelords and Danny is suffering. He didn't really want to be here, but things in Amity had ended in a way he never expected.

Both he and his parents had been arrested.

Not by his worlds government, mind you, but by the government of another Earth. This Earth that he was currently on to be more accurate. Who knew that so much of the stuff he and his parents had been doing was super illegal and wouldn't ya know it? He was in the middle of doing something really sketchy looking in his parents lab when the feds busted in.

Thankfully, the Justice League presented him with a deal: they take him out of Juvie and the reformation program he was in, and in return, he joins a team of former teen/child villains and anti-heros.

Figuring he had nothing to lose at this point he agreed.

He was not expecting to be surrounded by angry angsty teens. His fault really. He should have known better. Thankfully it seems like nobody knows about Phantom and he'd like to keep it that way.

Psaro was his calm in the storm. The other boy was proud and almost as arrogant as Robin, but he had been proven to be very kind and reliable. If Danny ever needed advice or if Robin was getting a bit too much, he could just knock of Psaros door.

The last time Robin had a fit and was starting a fight with someone, Mr. Pointy ears stepped up and told Robin that his outburst was undignified, especially for someone of a higher class like Robin seems to be presenting himself as. He also said something about there being a big difference between a king and a tyrant, but Danny had been trying to rush Robin's victim to the medway and didn't hear all of the convo.

Psaro was some kind of half demon prince who was also from another world. He didn't have a superhero name yet, but the program was brand new, and to be fair, Danny didn't officially have one either.

Some lady called Raven was supposed to be coming in to help Psaro and convince him to embrace his human half and help him with magic and...something about a curse? What did Danny get himself into???

[pociondeodio]

going back to my old hobbies! (rotating adam parrish in my mind like a microwave)

[clarissasbakery]

2/3 VALENTINE’S DAY BATCH - BBRAE

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

burning pt. 2 | b. blake

part one | masterlist

summary: season three — a daunting decision is to be made. multiple cups of grounder celebration juice, an arrogant bellamy blake, and a desire to prove oneself cause an inevitable outcome.

pairing: bellamy blake x reader

warnings (including all parts): alcohol consumption/intoxication, sensual dancing, jealousy, sexual desecration??, mild possessiveness, arguments, bellamy speaking in trigedaslang (giggling and kicking my feet), dialogue-heavy, manhandling, mild angst, smut, unprotected p in v (do not), reader is short because i’m short, deal with it <3

notes: THIS IS PART TWO OF FROM THE FLAMES!!

word count: 2.6k

No.

Way.

There was absolutely no way I was going to join a horde of drunken warriors dancing around a ten-foot-tall bonfire.

At least, that was what I had told Raven ten minutes ago.

Given the current position in which I was standing (which was just outside the crowd of dancers by a barrel containing a brew that I told myself was just really strong moonshine) and the alcohol oozing through my veins like sweet, molten honey, I think it’s safe to say that I had contradicted myself.

How many drinks had I had now? Two, three? Somewhere around there.

I wasn’t drunk, I swear. Although, I was certainly working my way towards being so. Raven had gently coerced—threatened—me into joining the raunchy dance circle. I had at first refused, but when she began to suggest telling Bellamy my ‘little secret’ if I didn’t do it myself, I reluctantly, very reluctantly, agreed.

So, that was that. I was going to dance. With Grounders. Around a bonfire. In front of Bellamy.

Hence, the drinks.

The only times I had ever danced were during parties back on the Ark, but those were so tame and regulated. This was vastly different. There were no rules, no sophistication, and certainly no guards keeping tabs on how close a girl danced with a boy. The latter was clear as day, taking the form of a couple dancing together a few feet in front of me.

A woman with dark, slicked-back braids and deep bronze skin pushed herself against her partner, a tall man with lengthy facial hair and spike-cuffed fists that must’ve been the size of my head. One of his hands was on her back, the other on her hip, ruching up her long skirt so that it exposed her thighs as she glided her chest up his torso. They grinded and swayed and flowed together in time with the pulsating beat.

Dread grappled me. I had to do that? How the hell do you dance like that in jeans and a tank top?

Through the ever-migrating crowd, I spotted Raven standing with Monty and Harper on the opposite side of the square. Of course, she had already been watching me the whole time. The fear on my face was unmistakable, yet she only sent an impatient nod of her head that said, “Get on with it already.”

If anything, you could always rely on Raven for her persistence.

“Christ, help me.” I plunged my cup into the barrel, fervently bringing its contents back to my lips and down my throat.

“Didn’t take you for a religious one,” came a deep voice from behind me.

I swivelled around, my cup still craned to my lips, and found the incentive for my drinking habits standing before me.

Bellamy.

Gracelessly, I choked as a much too-large mouthful of liquid streamed down my throat. My innards recoiled in on themselves. “Bellamy,” I said, attempting to compose myself. “Hi.” Unfortunately, the abhorrent aftertaste still lurked on my tongue, causing my expression to sour into one of disgust. “God—makes moonshine seem like apple juice.”

Apparently, he found this amusing. A hum of a chuckle bobbed in his throat. “Looks like you’re enjoying the party then.”

A few variations of how I wanted to reply: “I wasn’t until you started talking to me,” “Not really, but if you take me into a back alley right now, I might,” and, just a plain and simple, “I need you.”

What I really said: “Oh, yeah, I’m having a great time. You meet this guy?” I patted the barrel behind me. “Really supportive. We’re becoming good friends.”

He nodded, eyeing me with a quizzical smirk. “I can see that. Maybe you should branch out a bit. Have you met the one called Water yet?”

“You’re funny.”

“Alcohol tends to have that effect on me,” he said, and I laughed. His freckled cheeks rounded into apples and his teeth made a rare appearance; he looked away as if to hide his smile, as if Bellamy Blake couldn’t possibly be anything but serious and brooding. He’s kept my secret; I’ll keep his.

We both observed the crowd and the fire as a new song began to play, standing comfortably, wordlessly, side by side. Maybe ‘wordlessly’ was a bit of a stretch—there was a magnitude of words filling my mind, especially when he began unzipping his jacket and shrugging it off to expose his contoured arms to the fire’s fervour.

His arms…

“How many drinks have you had?”

I blinked. “What?”

He stared at me with a mischievous glint in his eye, draping his jacket on an unlit makeshift barbeque. “I said, what do you think of all this?”

The veil of lust-ridden (let’s call it what it was) fog lifted from my mind, and my brows creased deeply as I attempted to piece together what he was talking about. It took me a few belated seconds before I realized he had been referring to the Grounders and Sky People uniting as one people. I could hardly contain an idiotic smile from breaching my lips—my opinion was important to him.

“It’s—well,” I stammered, “it’s different.” It’s different? If only he knew how badly I wanted to club myself with a brick at that moment. Despite my obvious mental stagnation, he expressed nothing but patience, waiting with a visible longing for my input. So, I tried again, slowly working around the alcohol and shrewd blockages in my brain. “Honestly? It scares me. Their first impression of us was that we were cold-blooded killers and ours of them was the exact same. Ever since we hit the ground, we’ve been at each other’s throats; we’ve all committed so many acts of war.

“I’m scared of how fragile this peace is, how one tiny mistake could lead to the annihilation of our kind or theirs, or even both.” Bellamy watched me with silent contemplation. I continued, “And I’m scared if this peace does break, you’ll be on the front-lines because I know you’ll refuse to be anywhere else. And I know you and I tend to… disagree more often than not, but if you were to die—” I looked down, bashfully scrutinising the toes of my boots “—I think I’d be lost.”

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. I immediately wished to snatch the words my loosened tongue had released and shove them back down my throat. His silence was writhing excruciatingly through the air, surrounding us like a constricting serpent.

Say something, Bellamy. Say anything.

“I think I’d feel the same,” he finally spoke, and the relief I felt was instant. I looked up at him. His pupils were bowls of sweet melted chocolate as he cocked his head to the side. “What would I do without my favourite sparring partner?”

My heart soared.

My favourite sparring partner.

Favourite.

So much for not smiling like an absolute idiot. I could only pray the fire’s orange light masked the jeopardising tinge of my cheeks, though there was nothing I could do about my blatant staring. Maybe it would have been embarrassing if I were the only one, but Bellamy had the same problem.

Someone seemed to hit ‘pause’on time.

The blood in my veins moved like a tranquil river; my heart expanded and subdued with each slow beat. The voices and bodies around us blurred into one big mass of nothing. All that seemed to be moving was the music drifting down towards us from the tower and Bellamy’s face, which was leaning closer in microscopic intervals, almost unnoticeably. But I noticed.

And then the bonfire roared with a loud crack.

Voices mingled. Bodies shuffled. Time restarted.

Bellamy cleared his throat and looked away, just as I began inspecting the cup in my hand. What was in that stuff? It was supposed to give me the confidence to dance in front of him; he ruined—a term I’ll use loosely—my plans by greeting me directly, so now I was just tipsy for no good reason.

At least now I didn’t have to join a wanton circle of dancing grounders.

Wait.

Was Bellamy going to kiss me?

“Didn’t think I’d see a grounder mating ritual tonight,” muttered Bellamy as he watched the scene with crossed, disapproving arms. The light spirit he had been in before had obviously been overthrown by his usual brooding nature. Funny that—that his mood only soured after hemade it seem like he was going to…

You know.

I turned towards the crowd, away from him (and his damning muscular arms that bulged impossibly over his chest). “You don’t approve?” I asked flatly. His sudden detachment had pissed me right off. “Everyone,” I addressed the partygoers in a hushed tone only Bellamy could hear, “stop dancing right now. Bellamy Blake doesn’t approve of fun.”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered.

“Then go dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

For the second time that night, I contradicted myself. “Well, I do.”

Now that regained his attention. I could see him staring at me in my peripheral vision.

“Right,” he scoffed. “You’re gonna dance.”

Ouch.

His words struck a chord deep inside me, causing my expression to wilt into something defensive. My arms folded promptly over my chest and I turned to stare him down. “Is it so unimaginable?”

“I just can’t picture you dancing,” he spoke with an arrogant grin, as if his viewpoint originated from the truth and mattered above all else.

It was moments like this one that pushed me to judge whether I should indulge in my attraction to Bellamy. Maybe it was the booze talking, but I really just wanted to slap him across the face. If not literally, then maybe figuratively, by proving him wrong.

I’d had this problem ever since I met him: he would tell me to do one thing, and I’d do the complete opposite; it felt like an unspoken rule at this point. Which led me to my next decision.

My arms dropped to my sides. “Good thing you won’t have to in a minute,” I snapped.

I began making for the bonfire and dancers, each of my curt steps fuelled by spite and a chemically altered brain. I just can’t picture you dancing. Yeah, right. I’d give him something to picture, the smug asshole.

“Hey.” A large hand caught my wrist, pulling me back half a step so I that had to stop.

I shot a fiery warning over my shoulder. Bellamy’s eyes reflected regret and a touch of submission; he knew it had been the wrong move and immediately let go of my arm, withdrawing half a step himself in placation.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he spoke cautiously like I was a spooked animal about to attack. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Well, you did upset me.”

“Princess, I—"

I whirled around on my toes and we came face-to-face (well, face-to-collarbone). The swiftness of my actions must’ve caught him off-guard because he cut himself short mid-sentence and the bulge of his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously in his throat.

The scorching intensity of my gaze was pointed directly up at him now, just daring him to speak another word. He didn’t. His mouth had set into a hard, impenetrable line that represented his oath of silence. It was a smart choice, but, god, he had gotten me so riled up that whether he was smart no longer mattered.

I just couldn’t help myself.

The gap between us shortened as I took a smooth step forward, keeping us connected by the eyes. A challenge in the form of a scornful smile broke across my lips. “No leaning in this time, huh?” I spoke.

Bellamy’s eyes twitched into squints, his jaw clenching in unison. It was strange how he took offence to being called out on something he had done—a common trait in those affected by frequently un-called-out arrogance, no doubt. I’d have to start helping him out with that.

A bomb was ticking beneath his skin and I knew firsthand how short the fuse was. Subconsciously, I think I wanted to blow it. Subconsciously, I think I enjoyed it: the arguing, the tension, the heat. I enjoyed how we knew exactly what set each other off and how intimate knowing such information about one another was. I enjoyed getting in his face and him getting in mine.

I enjoyed the moments when it would become blatantly obvious that the tension between us never originated from a place of hate or malice, but from somewhere deeper, fleshier.

Or was I so impaired that it was really just me?

Thoughts calculated behind his hooded gaze—of hate, of malice, of flesh, I wasn’t sure. And just when I thought he wasn’t going to reply at all, his neck hollowed with a deep inhale, and he leaned down to my height. My heart dropped to an unspeakable place. His breath was hot on the tip of my ear, “Did you want me to lean in?”

I stared at his shoulder, trying to conceal the shiver trickling down my neck and over my breasts and much, much further below. He lingered in place for a half-second longer before returning to full height. Can you guess the shape his lips made as he scanned my perplexed expression? It’s not difficult.

I was going to slap him. Not out of dislike: but because how dare he make me want him so badly? And in front of so many people? And without even knowing that I actually did want him and it wasn’t just the alcohol that was making us both sexually frustrated?

I swear to god I was going to slap him. My hand flexed, but before I could act, the universe made evident that it was on Bellamy’s side.

The sudden bellow of horns signalled a change of song. Our attention was dragged away from one another, turning to the celebratory howls and shouts echoing between those surrounding the bonfire. The flames had exploded to new heights as someone fed more wood to the base. It burned so brightly, so dangerously that if I didn’t know any better, I’d have mistaken it for a god.

The horns vibrated in the air, repeating over and over as more instruments were introduced to create something dark and haunting. Slowly, I began to smile. I knew what I was going to do now, and it certainly wasn’t slapping the smirk off of Bellamy Blake’s face.

“Sorry, Blake,” I voiced over the music. We were looking at each other now; somehow in those ten seconds we were distracted I must’ve sucked him dry of pride and consumed it myself, because I now wore the smirk, and he wore the confusion. One last time, I downed a gulp of my drink and said, “Places to be.”

And then I was gone, heading straight for the crowd of orange-skinned dancers, slick, sweating bodies, and pulsating horns. I’d hoped that last drink would kick in fast, especially if Bellamy’s eyes were to be as vigilant as ever.

part three {to be written}

[little2nerdy]

reading tsc and jean’s interactions with neil being full of just wishing neil had stayed with him and been his forever partner makes me want to cry. also makes me want to read raven!neil fics for the first time? any suggestions would be much appreciated

[swampstew]

To celebrate the finale of What's the Magic Word? I commissioned @attyrocious for this gorgeous portriat of my King and Queen of the Pirates and Witches😍

ty Atty, Ily and kiss the back of your talented hands!

Read the full story on Tumblr | AO3 | or Wattpad <3

[x3no9]

Happy Halloween 🎃!

Revisiting my Halloween-themed collection of Mature monster tales ;).

Starfield, Resident Evil, Mass Effect and Ravenous so far...Cyberpunk coming soon.

Here is Chris and Wesker.

[helpmeimblorboing]

ARCHIVIST

“Statement of Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven… Way (muttered “God, these newfangled names), regarding her encounter with… sorry does that say Vampire ?

…well, I suppose we do have statements from vampire hunters on reco- what do you mean his name’s Vampire? What kind of -

Nope. Not going to question it

Anyways, Statement of Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way, regarding her encounter with Vampire. Original statement given August 18th, 2024. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

EBONY (in a distorted voice, clearly hiding a laugh):

Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white-

ARCHIVIST:

Your hair isn’t black, though?

EBONY

OMG, you’re like, such a nerd. Who cares ?

ARCHIVIST

We do, we’re a goddamn arc- did you just pronounce Oh My God as O-M-G ? What’s wrong with -

EBONY (rolling eyes)

I’m also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I’m in the seventh year -

ARCHIVIST

…Michael, you motherfucker

EBONY/MICHAEL (cackling)

Archivist, you have to admit, the expression on your face alone made that worth it

ARCHIVIST

Do you enjoy making my life difficult?

MICHAEL (grinning)

Oh, immensely

ARCHIVIST

Figured

[somorrow]

“I love you.”

Words you didn’t hear from Sasuke often. In fact, you heard them only in the throes of passion, clothes discarded, lips clashing, hands shaking, hearts open. He was by far the most guarded person you’d ever met in your life.

He showed you he loved you in other ways, though. Getting up in the middle of the night to get you a glass of water, letting you win in his favorite game, fixing things you didn’t know were broken until he told you, remembering small things like your favorite vegetable, or favorite song from two years ago. He even took care of the more domestic tasks when he spent the night, like cooking and cleaning. He constantly went out of his way to make your days and nights easier, whether you knew of his actions or not.

You’d begun to catch on, though, so once he got sick, you were eager to return the favor.

So you took the next two days off, and decided to baby the hell out of him. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, checking his temperature, ensuring hydration, checking in on him every hour or so. He had completely lost his voice the first day — not that it made too much of a difference, he was often content to sit in silence — so it started to frustrate him that he couldn’t communicate. By the second day, he could speak quietly, but his voice was raspy and low, broken at times. Each time he tried to speak, you interrupted him, advising him to save his voice. He tired of that quickly. Not only was he annoyed at being told what to do, he was also upset that each time he tried to say it — that he loved you — you interrupted him, saying he didn’t need to speak, and to rest. It was like you didn’t even care what he had to say, and he was through being ignored.

The next time you came in to check on him, pressing your cold hand to his overheated forehead, he clamped onto your wrist.

“Sasuke..? Are you okay?” You asked, eyes full of concern.

“I love you,” he forced out aggressively, his eyebrows narrowed and attention fully on you. “Thank you.”

Your heart fluttered and you couldn’t help but laugh. He seemed angry, almost, so the gentle words clashed with his tone.

“I’m serious,” he glowered, his throat itching the longer he spoke. “Don’t laugh.”

“I didn’t mean to. That was just… so cute. I love you too.”

Cute…?

Before he knew it, your lips were pressed against his. His eyes opened wide, staring down at you as you kissed him gently. When you separated from him, his scowl deepened. “You’ll get sick.”

You shrugged. “That’s fine. At least we’ll be sick together.” With that, his grip on your wrist tightened and he yanked you into bed with him and onto his chest, kissing you again.

“Thank you,” he repeated. “I love you.”

You grinned, staring down at his flushed face. You’d never forget this moment. Getting sick would be worth it. “I love you too, Sasuke.”

[ravenelyx]

Sebastian is the type to get random bursts of affection.

At the beginning of your relationship, he would suppress them, he'd be more reserved, scared to be too annoying, too clingy, too inadequate, too much. But eventually, he would relax — he would feel more at ease and gradually act on them more and more.

And one of his favourite activities is snuggling.

You could be sitting on the sofa, and he'd sit down too, and guide you between his legs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, and he would nuzzle your hair, your neck, your cheeks, eyes closed in bliss, and place very lazy kisses everywhere his lips can reach. Nuzzle, kiss, nuzzle, kiss, over and over again.

Or he would gently push you to lay down, and rest his head on your chest, face hidden in the crook of your neck so he can breathe in your perfume, lips brushing slightly on your skin, and he'd hug you like you're a giant pillow, and cuddle with you until he feels like he has fallen all over again. Because what's important to Sebastian is to feel you close, no matter how, no matter what.

[bisexualmultifandommess]

Favourite X Men angst fanfic concept I love (and even when it’s analysed in canon) is the whole Mutant and Proud motto where they show that due to his mutation not being trusted Charles isn’t included in that motto.

It’s so sad in fics when he’s told to rein in his telepathic mutation where other mutants are encouraged to show their mutations.

The potential of this fic trope is:

Charles!Whump - Headaches, Illness

Protectiveness - Moments where the rest of the First Class group are protective of him when they realise and argue on his behalf with the people who are hurting him (it’s mostly Raven or Erik who are the ones who unintentionally hurt him which is such good angst if it focuses on Cherik or Charles and Raven’s sibling relationship)

Cherik (because of course)

It’s just so good but I need it to have happy endings or I’ll cry

[dayurno]

raven jeremy au scene titles the odyssey

[ur-so-mine]

Y/n: Damian!

Damian: Yes beloved?

Y/n , putting on her shoe: I am going out ! Do u want something to eat !?

Damian, smirking : Yeah, you.

Y/n : ....*beep beep* *beep beep* Hey , Raven imma little sick, can we go out later? Thanks love ya~

Damian : I was kidding-

•The rest is unfortunately a history•

Raven: *sighs* I better get some nephews and nieces