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[ravens-repose]

The Stars Align

The Stars Align-Chapter 1

Authors note: some graphic depictions of pain and angst, reader near-death, can be read as a one-shot but will be a full series :)

The Doctor awoke in a strange place, bound in shackles around his wrists and neck. Taking a quick look around determined that he was in a lab of sorts. His sonic was gone, but with how little give the thick chains had, kneeling on the ground, he couldn’t reach it even if he wanted to. The Doctors mind was racing so fast he almost missed the shape of a young woman, one he knew well, chained but not caged as he was, lying curled around herself to his left nearby, scars littering her ghostly still but still breathing body.

The Doctor had been searching for Bellamy for months, since she was captured. His twin hearts began racing, his instinct to help her overpowering his own fear and he started looking more closely for something, anything that could get him out. He called out to her, but she showed no sign of even hearing him.

The Doctors thoughts were interrupted by a door sliding open, an alien from the Ardonian planet in the Andromeda galaxy, a people known for being obsessed with the search of the perfect life form. His companion next to him scrambled to her knees, quickly hiding something at the edge of the Doctors cell, a desperate look on her face as she looked up at him.

The Doctor quickly shifted his attention to the alien before him to avoid drawing attention to her, instead opting to buy her time. The Doctor noticed the Ardonian carrying a large black metal case, “Whats that you got in there then? I have to say I’m not the biggest fan of surprises but, well, I suppose we can make an exception.” he began, his usual carefree nature serving him well as a mask, “Well come on, don’t keep me in suspense!” he continued when there was no response, “And this cage, very rus-” the Doctor was cut off by the alien's first words to him.

“Do you know what you are?” she began, “You are close to perfection, so close, you only require a small alteration.” the Ardonian opened the box, a dim light being cast from the box. The Doctor craned his neck forward, the small glimpse he caught causing him to have a chill run through him, his normal unshakable confidence faltering, although his poker face didn’t. The Doctor’s fear was confirmed as the glowing crystal was tentatively removed from the case, a ghost rock from beyond the beaches of Ashai.

The alien began to speak again, “My other test subjects failed to adapt to the stone, however I have cause to believe your biological traits may be enough to withstand the energy produced from a refined crystal.” She spoke with a cold detachment, as if he were some middle school science project. The Ardonian stepped forward, the crystal held in long metal tongs. “Upon contact, the crystal will bind to to your biological matter, although I must warn you previous subjects have reported quite intense pain before they expired. This is my final crystal, and the last one I will need.” She finished, devoid of empathy.

As the alien approached him, he felt genuine fear. However before the Ardonian reached him, she was tackled to the ground by the human previously next to him. His shock, and the Ardonian’s, were interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream from he woman. That’s when he noticed the purple light in the center of her chest, the glow spreading through her veins as she screamed in agony. The Ardonian was frantic, hysterical,”No! You weak, wretched girl, you’ve ruined everything!” she cried out, reaching with the tool to grab the crystal in one last desperate attempt at salvaging what she lost, but was blown back into the wall behind her from the energy in a brilliant flash of light.

His companion clawed frantically at her chest, desperate for the pain to stop before she went limp, the glow from the crystal slowly fading. The Doctor felt that familiar sickening panic and he looked once more for a way out, and that’s when he saw it. The small, rusted pin she had used to escape was placed through the bars, close enough for him to reach. He made quick work of the shackles binding him and ran over to check on the woman.

The light of the crystal was quickly fading, though one glance at the motionless Ardonian showed he shouldn’t grab for it. She blinked her eyes open weakly, her screaming stopped from pure exhaustion. She looked up at him with unfocused, tear filled eyes, trying desperately not to give in. “Hey now, come on, stay with me. Come on Bel, you’ll be alright.” The Doctor asked hurriedly, desperately trying to keep her far away gaze on him. She tried to speak but was too exhausted.

He picked her up, his alien strength and pure adrenaline making his mad search for the TARDIS easier. Luckily, the Ardonians are a largely solitary people, so with the small ship his blue box wasn’t too hard to find. The Doctor burst through the doors, kicking them shut behind him before running to the medical station.

By some miracle, or sheer luck, the crystal was still flickering with a dim light, although her eyes had dropped closed. The Doctor placed her on the bed, immediately getting to work. He knew the odds, no human had withstood something like this and lived to tell about it. He didn’t care, he’d beaten the odds plenty of times.

Hasn’t he?

[ravens-repose]

Bottoms, Tops, we all hate cops!!

[Image Description: a photograph of two white people wearing punk clothing, seemingly at a Pride parade. They are holding up a black sign with the words "Bottoms, tops, we all hate cops" in white, capitalized text. End Description.]

(provided by Aspirationatwork)

[ravens-repose]

"pasta only fills you up with empty calories" have you considered that it also fills me with love

[ravens-repose]

[ravens-repose]

Bro, I’m not joking, we NEED more butch representation in media. Its not enough to have a skinny woman with short hair, we need like, more diverse butch lesbian content in mass media productions and I don’t know who I have to shake and scream at to get it. Probably 0.01% of queer representation in media are actually butch, and the ones that are are weirdly stereotyped as cops or assholes (somethings butch lesbians have been getting since the dawn of time). Most butches are pretty sweet! That desrves to be reflected

Don’t just demand butch rep. Demand good butch rep.

[ravens-repose]

Poison

I used to love the way you said my name

But now it bites like venom

The darkness cast in our last emotional holdfast

As cast by your final referendum

I made you lemonade

And you screamed at me it was poison

Sugar and citrus burn through you like fire

But the poison comes from you, my love

From the sickly air you breathe

To promises that stick in your throat like ash

The words that burn in your lungs

And the undeserved burdens that clung

The poison comes from you, my love

Though before I would drink like a man deserted

Your honeyed words no longer taste so sweet

The cup overflowing with bitter sap and false sympathy

The poison is you, my love

I drown in your bitterness, surrounded by cacophonous anger

I need only a breath before I run cold

I grab hold of what's left of me and surrender to your riptide

[ravens-repose]

I went down a rabbit hole

[ravens-repose]

Crosswires Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Warning: violence, arena match, mentions of death, nothing super graphic

Clarke awoke at dawn, before the air became filled with stifling heat and noise. She lived on the outskirts of Junkertown, but people would still show up, much to her displeasure. Usually people the Queen sent, bringing messages, gifts, or summoning her to dance for the masses. She supposed she couldn’t complain, she received all the scrap and supplies she could ever need, tea, sweets. Plenty of people here weren’t so lucky. She had gained favor with the Queen relatively quickly for fighting in the ring, and for the occasional invention. She was a good investment, and the Queen took care of her, and she was fine with that agreement.

Friends were a luxury that couldn’t be afforded in Junkertown, the Queen was the closest thing Clarke had to a friend, let alone family. However she was more than happy to keep a comfortable, necessary distance between their interactions. Her own family had been gone for quite a while, and life in the Wastes left no room for weakness.

Clarke moved to begin her morning routine, starting the kettle only to be stopped by a knock at her door. She turned the heat off and moved to look at who was at her door at the ass crack of dawn, seeing a letter slipped under the crack of her door.

The Queens seal was printed proudly in the center of the letter. Clarke opened it to see a familiar summon; another arena match. She was to observe the initial rounds, tell the Queen where she should put her favor, and fight the victor. Clarke sighed and rolled her shoulders, getting ready to prepare. The Queen never gave her much notice, an annoying quirk that still grated against Clarke, putting a halt to whatever project she was buried in at that time.

~~~

Not long after Clarke got the letter, the time had come for her to don her leather gear, light and flexible so she could be quick on her feet. She wasn’t scrawny, but she wasn’t strong by Junkertown standards, so there was no point trying to fight that way. She polished her twin daggers, the last and most precious thing she had of her mothers, and her mother before her. Clarke didn’t actually know how old they were, she just knew they were in the “old-as-shit” category. Then her bow, which she had made herself with many modifications, able to change the type of arrow she used, held in a compartment beneath the quiver. And finally, something she had been working on for quite a while, her special trick tucked snug inside a pouch on her belt.

Clarke made the trek to the Arena, pushing past the crowd that had gathered. No one really noticed, or gave a shit who she was besides the few scattered looks of recognition. She made her way down the side path that lead to where the Junker Queen herself would sit, the Queens sigil printed proudly in silver on a leather cuff around her wrist giving her access.

She found her place in the seat to the right of the Junker Queens throne, a smirk dawning the Queens face as she sat down. She put a possessive hand on her shoulder, a show of power more than anything. The Queens strange reclusive mad dog, that’s all she was, and she was fine with that. It was a familiar dance, one she had practiced well. Curious eyes swept over Clarkes form, she felt their gaze stick to her skin like oil. She was the Queens prize, won through blood sweat and death, and the Queen liked to show her off since she was the only one who could get her to leave her home outside of work orders. She leaned in closer to the Queens form, flashing her a well practiced smile, one that only the Queen received. There was no love between the two, but the mutual agreement shared made the dance easier.

The contestants came out, a total of twelve people of all different shapes, sizes and skills, she surveyed each of them carefully. Their gear, their armor, their stance. Next to Clarke, the Queen began the familiar speech before the fighting commenced. At the sound of her clap, the arena exploded into motion. Clarke watched them all, occasionally making a comment to the Queen on who had the best form. The rounds ticked down, until three remained.

Clarke rolled her shoulders as the crowd began to cheer. The victor had emerged. She turned and made her way down to the arena, standing before the gates with her gear ready. The gates opened on either side of the arena, Clarke stepping out to face a man that stood at easily 6’8, with a large double sided axe. The arena was large, and the man had no long range weapon, which gave Clarke an advantage. The two fighters stood at opposite sides of the arena, a large column in the center blocking their view of each other. The Queen stood, looked down at her with a cold, commanding gaze, before she clapped.

Once again the arena erupted with noise, and Clarke immediately drew her bow and moved quickly to find a shot. She took out an arrow with a special tip, one that would electrocute on contact. She fired two arrows, one successfully landing, but not nearly as effective as she’d hoped it would be. She was quick to fire another, and before she knew it, it was over as quick as it had begun.

Cheering roared through the large space, deafening. The Queen stood and clapped with a smile on her face, naming Clarke the title holder for the fourth time. The Queen smiled at her with her lips dripping something bittersweet that made Clarke sick to her stomach, a certain vitriol coiling in her gut.

The Queens Champion. Covered in blood, sweat and grime, surrounded by cheering people, she didn’t feel like one. But she didn’t die, so she guessed it was as good a day as any in Junkertown.

[ravens-repose]

things that exist but you can’t see:

people thinking about you and smiling

flowers growing in your heart

the moon’s affection for you

how much you’ve healed already

a lovely future written in the stars

[ravens-repose]

꧁༺ 𝓝𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 ༻꧂

Hey! I'm Raven, a multi-fandom writer. I'll be doing both oc and x Reader content, the posts will be tagged and titled as such ♡. I've been on a very long hiatus from writing and I'm really excited to get back into it! Writing posts will all be tagged Nevermore.

Also, I'm open for commissions! From fluff to angst to slow burn to smut to kink, I'll write a whole series if you inspire me, just send it in to my ask box ♡

Tags: please pay attention to these.

Fluff: ☁️

Slow Burn: 🔥

Angst: 🖤

Smut: ❤️‍🔥

Kink: ⛓️

Any/All (this is for multi-chapter stories, itwill be marked for angst, smut, and kink in the individual chapter it takes place in): ❣️

Explicit trigger warnings will be given if its something intense (like character or reader death for instance), but please keep in mind the universe it takes place in. If it's, say, Game of Thrones, people are gonna die, there will be some violence. That's just the nature of the show.

Ask to be tagged with a personal emoji!

Emojis taken: 🐝

[ravens-repose]

Always

[ravens-repose]

source

[ravens-repose]

✨🍂🎃october won't be a shit storm🎃🍂✨

✨🍂🎃october won't be a shit storm🎃🍂✨

✨🍂🎃october won't be a shit storm🎃🍂✨

✨🍂🎃october won't be a shit storm🎃🍂✨

✨🍂🎃october won't be a shit storm🎃🍂✨

✨🍂🎃october won't be a shit storm🎃🍂✨

✨🍂🎃october won't be a shit storm🎃🍂✨

like to charge, reblog to cast

[ravens-repose]

people who say “I block for spam liking” like damn sorry that you hate joy. Every time someone goes through and likes 3829278 posts on my blog I’m filled with a love and power that you will never know and I pity you

[ravens-repose]

U kno what yea I’ll just say it I’m a passenger seat princess . I was meant to look hot beside u while being driven around

[ravens-repose]

Yearning and horny? What a trip to be going on today