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ruffsraven-writes · 3 years
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Through the Odds | masterlist | ongoing~
Once Upon in Narnia | masterlist | finished
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ruffsraven-writes · 3 years
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Through the Odds | masterlist
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
chapter 3 - soon!
also on Wattpad!
A/N: i’m gonna finish this series, i just need a little more time to edit and stuff :) thanks for reading my works! :D
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ruffsraven-writes · 3 years
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Once Upon in Narnia | masterlist
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Part 1: Meeting Edmund
Part 2: The Ball
Part 3: The Threat
Part 4: The White Witch's Return
Part 5: Back to Cair Paravel
Part 6: The Preparations
Part 7: Sword Fight
Part 8: Glorgan
Part 9: War Proposal
Part 10: The Battle
Part 11: Edmund
Part 12: Defeat
Part 13: The Celebration
Part 14: The White Stag
Part 15: Back to Our World
***
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ruffsraven-writes · 3 years
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Promise | Five Hargreeves
Fandom: The Umbrella Academy
Pairing: Five Hargreeves x pyrokinetic!reader
WC: 318
A/N: i‘m new at this fandom and this is just a scenario I had in mind, not a huge relevance to the show or something. I hope you like it though :)
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“You're not going,” she said firmly through gritted teeth, hot tears streaming down her face, her palms igniting at each passing second.
“You know you can't stop me. Let's try to be civil and make this parting a somehow pleasant one.” Five averted his eyes, glancing at the watch on his wrist. He muttered I'm going under his breath but stopped as a ring of fire circled around them. 
The flames flickered, growing tall as her rage pervaded the ground and heat seeped down their skin.
Five shook his head, contemplating the amount of her rage before turning to face her.
“Y/N, we have no time to argue about this right now but it would be unfair if I left you in this condition.”
“Exactly.” 
Five took a step closer and met her eyes. “I will come back to you when this is over.”
Unconstrained tears damp her cheeks and in a hurt tone, she said, “Your promise clung weakly around me each day. And it scares me that one day you have to break them for the sake of the world that doesn't know you.”
Five's eyes softened, managing the adverse thoughts to hide around the curve of his smile.
“I will not,” he vowed, “But the world needs me right now and when I succeeded, it would be a better place for the both of us.”
“What do you get for this in exchange?”
“To dwell in a secured place with you,” he admitted. “I have to go.”
And with a last look, he disappeared in a zap of blue light.
Blood began pouring in beads from her nose as the fire gradually abated around her. She slumped on the ground in defeat, knowing that she had once let him slipped from her hands and that each day that the world needs him, he would come home drenched with the blood of his enemies and his own.
And to continue life in a constant trepidation that his life was suspended in the bootless air that would never save him is something she couldn't ever live by and called living at all.
***
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ruffsraven-writes · 3 years
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Through the Odds | F.W. (The Hunger Games AU)
Based upon: The Harry Potter and The Hunger Games series
Pairing: Fred Weasley x OC (Autumn Rivers)
Era: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
POV: 1st person
WC: 1.6k
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CHAPTER 2
“Hey, hey!” I snapped my fingers between his eyes. That's the only thing that I could do to keep him from plunging into a thought of nothingness.
“Right. Yeah. I'm sorry. Where were we?” he says, a trace of his previous screaming wounded his normal voice.
“About skinning the rabbit,” I say. “You could starve in hunger in no time. This place could be desolate to the untrained.”
It took seconds before his hand enclosed the knife and grasped the rabbit between his hands. I saw the wince in his eyes. Wherever he came from, the people there are not starving enough to kill creatures as much as rabbits.
I set up the snares, half-doubting if I could leave that boy alone in the camp without being killed. I decided he could.
I didn't even know his name. Maybe I was too cruel a while ago that I didn't handle his shock properly. His agonized scream and the way he was still holding that stick of his like it could save his life. 
Wisps of smoke met me as I journeyed back to our camp. Perfectly-skinned rabbits are laid above the fire, their juices making the coals hiss.
I sprinted back to the camp and stomped my boots on the coal, digging it on my heels as it died down the soil. I placed the cooked—almost burned—food aside and turned to him.
“Best way to get killed. If you want to, don't count me in.”
He realized what I'm talking about and began to apologize. He might be ruminating now how it would be different if I'm not the one who found him. Not surly, harsh, or indifferent.
“This arena is lethal, I'm just reminding you.”
“I know.”
This icy conversation is turning way more awkward on a silent night. I should remember that he came out of nowhere. No knowledge of Panem or the Games. He's not to be blamed for unconsciously putting a snare against him—or us, if he could endure me as an ally.
Why am I keeping him alive anyway? He's now playing as a fellow tribute. An enemy. Something to weed out of my path.
“I'll get you water.”
I left and made a mental note to ask his name when I came back. 
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“Fred, I'll keep watch first. Here, take the sleeping bag and climb.” I tell him.
The sky was a deep black that signifies an evening of uncertainties. What all I had in mind is getting through with this until morning.
Fred settled on the branch lower where I'll keep watch, considering that his stature won't allow him on those fragile branches.
I positioned myself on a tree branch, watchful as my vision struggled to the dim.
Silence engulfed me like everything around me was lifeless, not even the rustle of leaves. So I strike up a conversation.
“I'm still clueless how possibly you end up here.”
He gave a hollow chuckle. “Neither do I. It's like falling in a dangerous portal of some sort. I would've asked you to shake me awake but everything's real enough to make me doubt.”
He paused for a moment, “Will I survive this?”
Words escaped me. I couldn't just tell him that he won't and I might be planning to get rid of him.
I pretend to be sleepy and yawn. “Just stay alive.”
“Want me to keep watch?” he asks. “I mean, I don't particularly know who to watch for but I'll inform you if something's off.”
“No,” I say. “I want you to keep talking. Just be quieter.”
He did. And I discovered that Panem was nothing like where he came from. At first, I thought we're nothing alike, not until he mentioned his brother. We exchanged conversations in hushed tones.
“I already miss home. It's not much of a thrill pranking people around but I'd like to tell them I've been here and seen worse.”
He tried to laugh or add humor in his voice. If a good laugh can help him cope up, who am I to ruin it?
“Speaking of worse,” I say, forcing a facetious tone. A silver parachute descended from where I sat and I grabbed it, knowing it came from the sponsors. Inside is a small can filled with ointment for burns and a letter from Haymitch. “Worse time to deliver this don't you think?”
Fred smiles and says, “You can use this to apply that.” He tapped that useless eyeglasses perched on his nose.
Taking my silence as confusion, he adds, “It lets you see in darkness. I've seen this in joke shops before. 'M glad this isn't a sham.”
“Why didn't you tell me earlier?” I laughed before snatching it from him. He's right. I can see perfectly like it's daylight.
“Dunno. I guess I'm scared because you could've eaten me alive earlier.”
“Sorry,” I say. “For how I acted. It's awful.”
“Don't mind it. I'm used to being scolded.”
We took turns using the night glasses and he continued talking while I dab generous amount of ointment across my burns. I let the coolness of night help the ointment seep through my skin. The ointment worked effectively that I couldn't help but think what convincing Haymitch did to give me this.
“I could've helped you heal those in a minute if I knew the right spell.”
Yes, magic spells. To levitate, yes. To conjure stuff, yes. To attack, very befitting. But to get us out of the arena? No. He told me he tried to apparate but the arena seems to condemn his magic.
He's still fiddling the wand between his fingers when I say, “Do you know how to perform a killing spell?”
“W-What?” His voice apprise horror like I've said something that could harm him.
The wand faltered from his hand and I found myself grasping for it in thin air with him. Too desperate. That wand could mean more than anything. 
“I'll get it,” he says.
“No, let me do it. ”
He's still lacking stealth and strategy. The moment his feet touch the ground, every creature would stir.
I secure my foothold on the branch where he's sitting on, prepared for a jump until his huge hands locked around my ankles.
“Autumn, stop!” he hisses and put a finger over his lips. My instinct told me to twist away from him but the loud scream resonating below us thwarts my impulsive actions.
More screams. Fred pulled me to his level. Arms circled around me as if he knew I'd jump at any moment.
I first saw the dying ember near the bushes before the screaming figure right beside it. A tribute.
One of the Careers, Glimmer, shot her in the throat. Her screaming ceased and the canon fired.
As if from a trance, I jolt involuntarily. Fred's body tensed, his hands around me felt rigid and mechanic. With his eyes wide, tiny blinks interrupting, shock and fear overlapped. The dying tribute's bloody corpse mirrored in his eyes and having the night glasses allow me to see deeper in the silent agony he must be experiencing right now. Stable reasoning stalled my emotions before I could throw my hands around his neck and hold him there and never let go. He has my brother's eyes.
A beautiful shade of brown, the color of warm earth, and the pigment of woods. It reminds me of home. And I might've been underestimated how clear this stupid glasses can be.
“Pathetic. Her stupid voice's still ringing on my ears,” Glimmer says as the hovercraft lifted the corpse. The others start restoring the fire she left and make a camp below us. Fred's fingers gave a slight tremble against my shoulder.
“Fred, come on, we have to go,” I say, squeezing his cold hands to life. “Fred!”
He didn't protest and listen to the plan I fabricated when the tribute got killed in front of our eyes.
Wait till they're asleep. Retreat noiselessly. The other has to distract, the other to kill.
From the beginning, I know it's ridiculous. Fred doesn't know well enough to distract them nor he could kill them without being reluctant.
Forget the plan. Fred escapes, and I'll kill. If I'd be dead by morning, I want him to stay alive until some shred of hope materialized and he could go back to his brother.
He has to go. He doesn't belong here. Not in this murderous place.
“Your spear was right there.” He points down the slender thing leaning by the tree and adds, “Do you want me to get their weapons?”
“No,” I say. “Wouldn't let you risk it. Just descend quietly. Don't let them notice you. Go to the woods and conceal yourself. Whatever happens, don't let them see you. Whatever happens. Alright?”
“Yes.” He wraps the jacket around himself and says, “You'll follow suit, won't you? I'll wait for you, Autumn.”
“Of course.”
Faint sunlight edges around the arena and sleep is almost impossible. The Careers hadn't seen us and now's the chance to perform the plan. Fred braces himself in each tree trunk, gripping hard and avoiding any sort of noise. In no time, he's on the ground, finally found his wand, and scurrying away with a last glimpse of me as if to say goodbye.
I ascend higher till a whistling perked my ears. My gazed roam around, did I rouse the Careers? No, they're still dead asleep. 
Then I saw her between the branches, body resting there with stealth as if the trees are her home and will always catch her whenever she hops. 
Rue.
She points above my head, and the buzzing starts, one of the tracker jackers flies around the nest, crawls on the entrance and disappears. I signal Rue through a sawing motion. She nods and hops from tree to tree, fleeing.
Fred and Rue are safe.
I grabbed the knife Clove used in an attempt to attack me and began sawing. 
***
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ruffsraven-writes · 3 years
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Through the Odds | F.W. (The Hunger Games AU)
Based upon: The Harry Potter and The Hunger Games series
Pairing: Fred Weasley x OC (Autumn Rivers)
Era: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
WC: 839
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CHAPTER 1
I know that bloodshed awaits me in the Cornucopia. The Careers showed determination to kill me since the first day of training in the Capitol. My score from the judges, and the way I was known to be the girl on fire, and the mockingjay I merited from Madge. Maybe it all adds to the threat and intimidation. If they think they know me enough, they're wrong. I'm just starting.
"Let the 74th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor."
That's the cue for me to take off and dash to the spear lying on the grass. I made a swift grab on it and to an orange bag beside it. Someone pushed me from behind and I stumble. I crawl backward, my heel digging on the grass. 
The ax swinging at me was a thread away from my skin. I continued dodging away from it until the tribute trying to kill me collapsed on the ground. Clove's the one who shot him. Her second knife was aimed at me. It hit the orange bag covering a few inches above my head. I fled to the forest, keeping track of the path from the Cornucopia to where I'll hide.
Water. That's what I need to survive.
The forest is dense, bushes of berries sprouted like mushrooms in the corner. I settle in the copse of trees, thick bushes entirely concealing me. I rummage through the bag, keeping Clove's knife within my reach. Some time I'm gonna pay her kindness. There's a bunch of things I can use later. But the water bottle is empty. The Games has a knack for securing our death. The Cornucopia bloodbath gradually ceased and the screaming stopped.
Maybe I can find a freshwater pond nearby. I couldn't risk the journey to the lake. No doubt the Careers are already claiming it as their dominion.
Cameras scatter everywhere so I whisper-shouted about water through my parched throat. I can't die of thirst. Not now. I wait a few minutes. Nothing. What can I expect of Haymitch, anyway? He's probably drunk or rescuing Clifford over me if he survived the bloodbath.
My situation left me no other choice but to hunt for ponds where I can drink on. I begin wandering deeper in the forest, spear on one hand and my bag lowered to the other, its color will give away where I am in no time!
The water must be nearby, that's another possible reason why Haymitch isn't doing anything. I was taken aback by the loose ground beneath me, if I wasn't too fast, I could've plunged into it.
I crouched on the solid ground and began digging on the loose earth. My fingertips touch something cold and it's dripping wet when I pull my hand out. Water!
I drank too fast, sipping it through my cupped hands. I started wetting my jacket so I hastily removed it. I washed my face and scraped the dried blood off my skin from the sharp branches that scraped me. I filled the water bottle as well as camouflaging my bag with mud. I was well-equipped and all I needed was a place to conceal me before night time.
Twelve cannons fired. Twelve Tributes.
Good, I thought. They lessened the people I might kill through the Games.
I'm miles away when I feel the searing pain, burning through my back. The fire crawled on my jacket and I sprinted ahead. The shooting fire strays me from the pond until the path curved and its sight dwindled. I frantically forced my jacket open once more, dropping my items under a bush. My skin was burned halfway, the back of my arms began turning red. I managed to extinguish the fire from me. I retrieved my things, stuffing the burning jacket inside my sleeping bag. The girl who was on fire. I bet the whole Capitol is laughing at the thought right now.
The sensation of burning lingered, I started dousing it with water in a hushed groan.
I'm too immersed that it took me moments to realize the stillness around me. Everything is dead quiet. I can hear my own breathing.
A huge hovercraft looms over the arena, lowering a huge metal ball. It will wreck something. My eyes follow where it would land. I crawled to the bed of leaves and saw a strange thing placed between the trees. A cabinet?
Whatever the Gamemakers are up to, it would be deadly. I watched as the ball positioned atop the cabinet until something was thrown outside it. 
This couldn't be happening. It's a human. Must be about my age. No. What is happening?
Chains hang from the metal ball clinked, it would be thrown in seconds. But the boy didn't move a muscle, the stillness suddenly scared me.
"Welcome, welcome. May the odds be ever in your favor."
The ball will drop. He isn't moving. No, the odds are not in his favor.
"RUN!" I screamed as the metal ball crashed on the cabinet.
***
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ruffsraven-writes · 3 years
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Through the Odds | F.W. (The Hunger Games AU)
Based upon: The Harry Potter and Hunger Games series
Pairing: Fred Weasley x OC (Autumn Rivers)
Word Count: 466
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PROLOGUE
Nighttime veiled darkness to Hogwarts except for the faint glow of moon bathed across the tower. Fred Weasley descended from the Astronomy tower as his twin brother, George, beckoned him with a hushed whisper. "Come on! Filch's gone."
Their stealth allowed them to reach the Gryffindor common room without being caught. And they were satisfied with the clean mischief they have done that day.
They're moving silently through the darkness when a figure bumped into them and almost stumbled.
"Fred? George?"
They couldn't make out who it was until it spoke.
"Harry, what are you up to? It's late." George asked.
"I could ask you the same thing."
Fred chuckled and said, "Alright, mate, we'll let you pass. I'm not the prefect, you are."
"Don't have to remind me that. Anyway, I need your help."
Harry's eyes darted between the two and he recognized eagerness.
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"That horrible toad, why do you need to go to a rotten place like this, anyway?"
"She asked me to fetch some of the abandoned books listed here in exchange for my week's detention." Harry smoothened a piece of paper and Fred peered over.
"Honesty, all I can see in here is rubble."
Harry nodded, "I thought you've been here before."
"Here? Hell no, the Room of Requirements never showed us this storage room. Besides, it's just a broomstick closet when we enter."
"I'm hopeless. These books are not here for sure, she can just look around and see that. We better go back, George must be waiting for you."
"Alright-oh well, have you checked this out before?"
Harry followed Fred in a path narrowed by neglected magical things and saw an exceptionally huge cabinet positioned in the middle.
Its hinges creaked as Fred pry it open and pulled things from it. Fred examined them in his hands and passed them to Harry.
"The books I'm looking for..."
Fred smiled, "Exactly, mate. It's all here. Must be your lucky day."
Harry cradled the books in his arm, checking every title passed over to him.
"Curious thing..."
"What?"
"Harry, this is a Vanishing Cabinet!" Fred said, probing the inner part of the cabinet with his hands. His hand met a small bump and felt cool glass beneath his fingers. Fred prodded it and his fingers pressed a small hourglass and it started spinning on its own accord.
The last thing Fred knew was Harry's voice and the labored tug on the hem of his robes before he was sucked into an abyss, swirling darkness.
He did not scream. Too stun to speak. He seemed too far away and the unbridled force pulling him was getting stronger.
He heard a dull thud and a groan, realizing both resonated from him. The cabinet door swung open and he was tossed to the unknown.
***
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