#thg!au

[peakyswritings]

Started working on my THG au again (it’s been 84 years👵🏻) and I found this on Pinterest and no one can convince me this isn’t Nina in district 13 learning how to shoot

[barellisliterature]

Whatever happens outside of this room, whatever you have to do to survive has nothing to do with how I feel for you, or what I will do to keep you safe.

[foodwalls]

Lucky: From District 1, winner at 16, forced into prostitution, eventually joins the resistance. One of the four that go through the Capitol away from the main group. Damages his back. Needs new spine.

Kyra: From District 4, winner at 17, joins the resistance. One of the four that go through the Capitol away from the main group. Scars on her face, looses an eye (gets new biotic one).

Tre: District 4 designer and handler. Subverts the Capitol through couture similar to Cinna, joins the resistance when it becomes dangerous in the Capitol.

Mikey: Tech-head from the Capitol. Joins resistance, works with Beetee on tech.

Dory: District 8 champion at age 15. Marries Harvey to escape Capitol's grip, hides member of the resistance in her home, eventually is taken by the Capitol, broken out by the resistance, and joins them as a healer.

Harvey: Capitol, is Dory's life-saving sponsor and marries her. Hides member of the resistance in his home, subverts the Capitol and goes into hiding when she is taken.

Cadoc: Comes to the Capitol with Dory after she wins the games, is a prolific musician.

Harriett: From District 4, parents were dissenters and she was brought to the Capitol as an Avox. Becomes Cadoc's Avox. After the war, Charlie comes up with biotech to give her a new tongue.

Ian: From District 4, disguises himself as Kyra's brother to join her. Joins the resistance. One of the four that go through the Capitol away from the main group. Suffers from internal bleeding and dies in Dory's arms.

Cat: Extremely gifted mechanic from District three. Joins the resistance and destroys the Capitol's transportation system by crashing trains and shutting down terminals. One of the four that go through the Capitol away from the main group.

Luca: Capitol citizen and model. Falls for Cat, ends up joining the resistance. Avid attendee of KxS crazy parties.

Cassie: Tribute alongside Charlie from District 11. Dies in the arena.

Charlie: Tribute and winner from District 11. Eventually escapes outside of Panem with Tess and works with the resistance to spearhead the movement. Return to work with District 13 and those in the Capitol.

Tess: Handler for District 11. Eventually escapes outside of Panem with Charlie and works with the resistance to spearhead the movement. Return to work with District 13 and those in the Capitol. Also works with Mikey and Beetee / Gale on tech.

Robbie: Mayor's son in District 11. Eventually works with Charlie and Tess in the resistance. Becomes a healer and dies protecting Hannah and some of the children in the last days of the battle.

Karan: Capitol citizen, subverts the Capitol with lavish sex parties and secretly supporting Avoxes. Top level resistance member.

Sam: Capitol citizen, subverts the Capitol with lavish sex parties and secretly supporting Avoxes. Top level resistance member.  

Isha: Works in the factories in District 5, is Hannah's love at home. Joins the resistance.

Hannah: Champion from District 5. Returns to live quietly in the district. Joins resistance. “Black Widow”.

Miles: Peacekeeper located to District 12, falls for Rosa.

Rosa: Lives in the Seam with Julian and Fee, used to prostitute herself to get them extra food.

Julian: Lives with Rosa and Fee in the Seam. Works in the mines.

[barellisliterature]

The Games

“I’m just glad I had some say with the uniforms this year - even better now that I have you, you’re going to look amazing.”

Tre Jackson was gleaming as he finished buckling the harness to my thigh and giving it a little tug. He was literally gleaming, must have been some kind of cream or something - his skin was glowing a little. Warmly like sunshine - god, I might never see the sun again. Or feel sand beneath my feet, or the burn of whiskey.

Be smart.

The warm voice filled my spinning head with a bright, soothing fog.

You can get out of this. Don’t lose hope.

I rolled my lips in, thinking of the night before and how even though I should have been sleeping, I was having a night to remember forever (for however short a time that might be). He believed I could win. Ian and Harriett believed, even Tre did as he was fluttering around me, primping me for the pedestal.

“Fuck, you look amazing.” Two attendants were finishing off the braid in my hair, adjusting the seashells so they were sitting just so. He waved his hands impatiently at them to leave, different color blues of his perfect nails blurring at the peripheral of my vision. He turned me to the mirror and, of course, he was right.

All black; shorts, socks, boots, tank top and windbreaker. Even the harness. There was a pouch on one side - “for your odds n’ ends” - and space for a weapon to be holstered on the other side. I surveyed myself in the surrounding mirrors. Well, if I died at least I’d do so looking good, barring any horrible disfigurement of course.

I was surprised to see the large smile on my escort’s face falter, I met his brown eyes in the mirror. Behind the makeup, he was… sad? My throat tightened and I tried to swallow something like a scream. If he was moved to this spectrum of emotion, what was I in for? Or was it just me? Did this Capitol fuck get attached to me? I had grown attached to him and it made me feel a little sick. He’d never be in this position, but maybe he was finally understanding it, just a little.

“Just - just make sure you don’t step off the goddamn platform until the alarm sounds.” He cleared his throat and the look on his face was back to its normal disgusting excitement. “Now up you get.” Ushered with more force than I expected to the platform I whipped around and hugged him, tight. He made a sound of protest, pushing at my hands a bit before surrendering.

“Thank you, for last night and for that.”

“Yeah, whatever.” But he hugged me back and my stomach twisted, “Now get your grubby hands off me.”

I choked out a laugh as I stepped back, the tube closing around me. Laughing as I ascended to what was possibly my death. Why was I laughing? I couldn’t stop. Darkness surrounded me and my stomach started to hurt from the laughter. Some “Untouchable Water Queen” I was, obviously I’d cracked. The surface broke with a metallic SHINK and my laughter caught in my throat. A smell, putrid and thick immediately flooded the tube.

A sewer.

We were in a massive chamber, in the center a dias with the cornucopia, weapons spilling out where fruit and grain so often sat. In a large circle we all stood on pristine pedestals, while grime coated everything else around us. The young ones looked nervous, unsteady on their pressure sensing platforms and I sent out a prayer to whatever was out there that no one stepped off early. But then again, maybe that was the way to go, nice and quick. Explosion and boom, you’re done.

I heard the unmistakable sounds of vomiting. I could see the closeup on the monitors now, Capitol folk gasping at the impropriety, the weakness that they could never hope to understand.

Another laugh threatened me.

Ian had told me that I would die in a gutter someday. I looked around for a camera, to tell him it looked like he was prophetic. I closed my eyes and thought about the taste of last night instead, to calm the laughter and my stomach. The feel of Lucky’s warm skin, pleasurable pain of his fingers and nails digging into my skin.

I drowned out the sounds of Caesar and Claudius talking with excitement about the games rules with the memory of Lucky’s lips against my neck, his tongue hot and sweet on the sensitive skin. Snow’s message to the Tributes was washed away with the tight and comforting embrace of Lucky’s strong arms and the soft sheets, his words coming back to me. “Be smart, you can get out of this.”

As the countdown began, I measured my breathing. Don’t lose hope. I bade him to keep repeating it in my mind, a mantra I couldn’t afford to let go of. “I’m rooting for you.” Licking my lips, I opened my eyes. I could do this. I could save myself. Kill anyone I had to, especially that fucker Thomas. My eyes caught his a ways down and I glared at him. I liked that he looked scared. He should be, payback was a bitch.

Three… two… one.

The boom sounded, echoing through the cavernous chamber and 24 bodies charged from their pedestals.

*  *  *

The tangle of bodies and the smell of blood at the cornucopia had actually drowned out the smell of the sewer. It was a bloodbath up there on the raised center platform, but I’d made it out, smeared in blood with a bag of supplies and cudgel. The pipes were slick and winding, my memory helped me keep a map of the way I’d gone - but it also kept a list of faces of the people I’d just killed. Four. My memory would hold onto every piece of this experience. Maybe I should let myself die.

I couldn’t though, my mantra playing in the back of my mind.

Instead I trudged forward, I needed to find a spot to keep safe, a home base I could return to and maybe sleep a little. After an hour, I’d staked out a spot in a deadended tunnel. There were a lot of them, the place was like a maze. There were patches of fungus everywhere, glowing and giving off a sickly green light. I stamped out the ones that led to my new little haven, it twisted around a corner so if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have even seen there was a tunnel there.

By the light of the fungus I opened my supply pack. My hope piqued, all the necessities of making bombs. I could do that. I had done that.

*  *  *

Two days, another face that haunted me. But I’d needed water.

The canons had slowed, things were creaking to a stop. There were thirteen of us left. I sat back in my small corner, head in my hands. I refused to show weakness to the cameras, they wanted a character, they’d get one. Horrible, Wrathful Ocean Queen. I needed to make people continue to root for me.

But things were going to get ugly soon, it always did when the killing started to wane.

I caught a couple hours of sleep, confident in the tripwire I’d created with some of the bomb supplies to wake me if someone did find my secret tunnel. But it was screaming that woke me. Distant, but not so far that I wasn’t alarmed for myself.

I stood, pulling the cudgel from its sling on my harness and stowing a couple pipe bombs into the pouch on the other side. The screaming continued, the person was in agony and now I was hearing snarls, they echoed around the pipes and my stomach turned.

It had to be a muttation. But what was it?

A final cry flooded down the tubes, followed by a cannon boom and I felt my body start to tense up. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. As deep as I could. In and out slowly, pulling the cudgel from its sling and loosening my muscles. Fluid, like water.

I heard the slithering steps heavy against the metal coming towards me, a deep sniffing - it knew I was there. I bent my knees slightly, ready for the attack. The steps stopped, I could smell it over the stink of the tunnels, like something dead and rotting. I was going to let that thing burn before it got to me. Behind the bend in the tube, I made a noise, drawing it forward into to tripwire, into the bomb.

It screamed when the small bomb maimed it. I didn’t wait for the fire to go out, I leapt in, an animal noise tearing from my throat as I swung the club. A mutation of a crocodile, more gruesome than I’d expected with large, thick muscled forearms and long claws, a tail resembling a scorpion’s and two heads, with hundreds packed into each upper and lower jaw.

I brought the club down on one head, rolling to narrowly escape the snap of the other head. The screaming again as the wounded head lolled sickeningly. It lashed out with an arm, claws so close to my leg, I cried out, almost losing my balance. I sank backwards in a fluid motion, sucking in a breath before winding up again. It snarled, teeth glinting in the pale green light like diamonds - maybe they were made of diamond.

I brought the club down again, missing its clawed foot by inches. I had to roll away again, too slow this time. I felt its nails graze my thigh, pain exploding upwards and flooding my body. I gasped for air, filthy water flooding my mouth. My hand brushed something hard and I grasped it as the beast lunge forward - a knife. I plunged it into the creature’s throat as it reared to strike. Hot, putrid blood sprayed in an arc, coating my face and chest as it collapsed onto me.

Agonizing minutes ticked by as I struggled to free myself. Agonizing minutes where I was completely vulnerable to whatever predator heard our less-than-quiet clash.

*  *  *

Two more days had passed, someone had sent me medicine for my leg. I’d used two empty water canteens to collect the blood of the muttation, covering myself in it, hoping it would help mask my scent from any others, and I knew there were others. I could hear them. I hadn’t been able to sleep since the first one. I saw them when my eyes closed. I heard the screams from the two kids I’d killed with a makeshift bomb. They’d set up a little camp in a tunnel.

A faint but familiar sound drew me to the edge of a pipe nearby - the sound of a parachute, a gift from a viewer. Somehow they were feeding them in through small pipes in each area. The pod was small, I cracked it open near a ring of glowing fungus. A silver locket. Strange, not practical at all. A creepy Capitol citizen? With dirty fingernails I opened it and instantly a smell lovingly enveloped me.

How it made it through the stench of the arena was beyond me, but tears filled my eyes and even though it had been five days and hellish beyond words, the scent was unmistakable. Lucky. There was no picture, only the scent, but it filled my cold limbs with something like warmth as I sank to my knees, giving myself one precious moment to reminisce, to believe I wasn’t in Hell before closing it. I wrapped the long chain twice around my neck and tucked it under my filthy tank top.

My eyes shot open. Something was wrong. The air pressure was different, I felt it subtly in my ears. The steady trickle of water that constantly filtered in was flowing faster. My mental map of the tunnels ticked through my mind, where was I? The water seeped into my boots, it was freezing. I needed to move, I tightened my pack as it rose to my calves. “Shit.” The way it was flowing it would lead the remaining five back to the center chamber.

The final bloodbath. Five days was enough? We’d all fanned out enough that slow starvation was the only way out now? Too boring - couldn’t have that. Not enough visceral action for the Capitol. Not enough punishment or torture. Still, it was drown here or escape.

I slogged through the rising water. Being quiet as I could. No sneak attacks in this high of water.

The current sucked me along, my balance being tested as the slick pipes beneath my feet made me feel more like I was skating than walking. A gush of water launched me forward as if they opened the floodgates and water crashed around me from all sides.

Swept under the current, I groped for a hand hold - anything - to stop my helpless slingshot forward toward the T junction I knew was ahead of me, but my nails cracked and splintered against the walls doing nothing to slow me. I hit the wall with no protection and then everything went black.

*  *  *

Sharp pain.

Again.

Coughing - was it me?

Dim light. More pain.

“Oh shit!”

“Get her!”

Realization hit me, followed by a blade of some sort in my shoulder.

Blinding white-hot pain.

A roar left my throat, tearing it to shreds as I rolled, my hand instinctively drawing the cudgel from its holster. I could feel the blood running down my arm - it was warm, almost nice. I wiped my arm against my forehead, it came away smeared with blood.

“You missed!” The District One girl snarled at her male counterpart. “How could you fucking miss?! She was just laying there, you idiot!”

Just the three of us, did the other two drown? Didn’t matter now. I flicked the ratty braid off my shoulder as I circled them, still coughing water out of my burning lungs.

“Let’s just kill this bitch and get it over with. No one’s going to cry over her. No one even volunteered in her place. They must have wanted her to die.”

I could feel something snap inside me. The fear seeping away, pure hatred filling me now. Anger and disgust. I wanted out. I was done. They were in my way.

Almost eaten by giant two-headed creatures, starving, dehydrated, bleeding…

“You want a psycho killer?” I rasped, “Fine.”

“What?!” The District One boy.

I drew the knife with my wounded arm and almost enjoyed the pain now. I felt my chest swell. “Come on, coward. Two against one. Here, I’ll make it easier.”

The cudgel and knife clattered, the sound echoing around us. The hysterical laughter from the first day came flooding back, and the District One’s exchanged glances. He gripped the machete in his hands tighter and lunged at me.

I dodged, whipping around him and slamming a knee into his kidney. He went to his knees, gasping. Planting my feet, I gripped his head between my hands and jerked with all my strength. The crunch bounced around the cavernous chamber, and he fell to the floor. A loud boom echoed behind it. My wounded shoulder screamed with pain, but I ignored it, adrenaline pumping through me.

Swinging around, my breath raced from my aching lungs as the girl struck me across the back with her spear. I went sprawling to the ground, sliding across the algae. Crawling to my feet, I leapt as she stabbed forward, a feral sound escaping her throat with the effort.

“Hey! I just did your dirty work for you! You would have had to kill him to win.” She swept the air with the blade and I easily dodged it, “It’s going to be really embarrassing when I beat you unarmed.”

She slashed fiercely, I moved in just behind her blades, sliding in the muck and pulling her down with me. We rolled through the mud, pulling and scratching, her nails on my cheek but I ended on top and I slammed her head against the thick metal platform beneath us. Her nails ripped at the skin of my arms, trying to stop me.

But I didn’t stop until I felt her life leave her body beneath me.

I sat back, gasping for breath, waiting for the cannon shot. My whole body shook. Where was President Snow’s voice? Shouldn’t he be speaking? Didn’t I win?

I looked around, dizzy, vision blurring and was knocked backwards.

A face above me. A face I’d swore would NEVER find its way above me again. He smiled.

“Thomas.”

“Kyra.”

He slid my hands above me, through the sludge, knees pinning me down. I could feel the hilt of the knife just barely out of my reach.

“How’d you make it to the end?”

He answered by way of fist to my face. I literally saw stars.

This wasn’t how I was going to go out. No way was he winning after everything. I sucked in a breath, holding it as I struggled underneath him now. I bucked enough to get my hands loose, both slimy with the filth around us. He dug his elbow into my sternum and I screamed, curling upwards. His gasping laugh invaded my mind and I burned. Fury blazing its way through me.

I reached up, grabbing his face and pressed my thumbs into his eyes. A laugh caught in his throat, I pushed back and he loosened up enough for me to reach back and grab the knife and plunge it into the side of his neck. He croaked, blood spilling out of his mouth onto my face. He hovered above me, eyes wide and wheezing. With a shaking hand he pulled it out.

He crumpled forward onto her, his blood washing over her face.

Pushing him off of her she crawled a few feet away, shuddering as the last cannon went off. The ceiling opened up, a hovercraft lowering into the chamber, floating above her. After a moment, Caesar Flickerman’s voice entered the chamber, so jovial and boisterous it brought tears to her eyes.

“Congratulations to District Four’s Kyra Barellis, you have won this year’s Hunger Games!”

She didn’t hear anything else.

*  *  *

The hustle and bustle of repairing the damage to her body and getting her into fresh clothes, interviews and lights were just a blur. Her limbs and voice did and said what she was supposed to but when she was finally done Tre led her toward her room, insisting she had a present waiting for her, she wanted to scream. He was smiling. How could he smile? She had been covered in thick layers of black blood less than 12 hours ago, her body ached and he was smiling and talking of presents. She’d murdered nine people.

She opened the door to her room, pushing it closed on Tre, not caring if it was rude. Her forehead rested against the wood and she sighed. A throat cleared and she whipped around, ready to fight.

The sight of Lucky sitting on her bed, waiting for her, filled her eyes with tears. Fingers clasping the locket around her neck, she sank to her knees, face in her hands.

[nogamemaccaul]

Might As Well Make It A Good One

When the fighting was over and I could finally breathe again, I crumpled over in pain.

White hot, piercing pain was lancing through my torso to the point that my arms were numb and the previous sounds of explosions and gunfire and screams gave way to the sound of my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. I coughed, my face on the gravelly pavement, and blood splotched down my cheek. "Kyr-" I coughed again, wet and painful, flaming coughs. 

Each cough sent a ripping pain through my chest. It couldn't be good. Not with all the blood. 

"Ian!" Kyra vaulted over a low retaining wall that was crumbling away, blood dripping down her own cheek. Her braid was loose now, hair falling haphazardly into her face. "Ian, what's wrong?!"

"I can't breathe," I managed to rasp out. My mouth tasted like iron. Despite the blood sticky on her own face, her hands checked me over, following the blood stains. Her gasp was enough to tell me she'd found the source after lifting up my shirt. "That bad?"

"We need help."

"If you die, I swear I'll kill you." The harsh voices owner came into view over my head. Cat's hair was in similar disarray to Kyra's, her cheek painfully road-rashed. 

"We need help." Kyra's voice cracked. 

"We do." The accented voice of a  man who I'd never fully liked shadowed Kyra's. I lifted my head, amid the dizzy waves I could see he was using the wall Kyra jumped over to support himself, face creased with pain. 

"Alright, lets go find help." I tried to sit up and pain overtook me, the blackness mingled with the shouts of the people around me.

Then it was all gone.

When I woke up, the sounds and smell around me were completely different. A light touch with a warm cloth sent a shiver down my spine.

"Mr. MacCaul, calm down." She shushed me.

There was only a faint pain in my abdomen and chest. A tightness that was jarring when coupled with the fact I couldn't really feel my arms or legs. "So," I said lightly, "What's the damage?"

She looked down at the cloth in her hands, "While you were out there, there was an explosion."

"I remember that part." I grinned despite the sinking feeling in my stomach.

"You were hurt pretty badly." She sniffled despite the clear effort she made to be strong for my sake, "Your right lung and abdomen were punctured by shrapnel. They've medicated you - made you..." She stifled a little sob, "Comfortable."

The word seemed so heavy despite its meaning and I smiled again, "So I'm going to die."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement that made her grip my hand tightly in both of her small ones. Her big, brown doe eyes seemingly bigger with the sheen of tears. I reached forward and touched the large, obviously pregnant stomach she was sporting, feeling a light kick.

"Your bun doing okay?" She nodded, "Boy or girl?"

"Girl."

"Good." I smiled, "She'll look just like you. Beautiful dark, wavy hair and nice, warm brown eyes, like that hot chocolate they serve in the Capitol." She nodded again, earnestly, "If she were mine, I'd name her Mari." 

I didn't know why I was rambling like this, my head was fuzzy and I couldn't think straight but I was genuinely sad that baby fussing in her womb wasn't mine, that I hadn't had the chance to kiss her again since the first time. I remembered it so clearly.

She was panicking, rightly so. About to walk out in front of what looked like a million crazily dressed Capitol folk to be proposed to and whisked away by some random guy she'd never met but had taken a shine to her. It was all insane. And I'd taken her by the shoulders and told her those people wouldn't have her first kiss, that she could keep that for herself and I took it. 

The look of shock on her face still made me chuckle. 

I looked back at her, head a fog of medication and pain and death and I smiled again, "I was your first kiss, how about you be my last - I'll take it to my grave." I gave her a wink.

She didn't return the shocked look I'd been expecting, instead she gave me a watery smile and bent forward, hand on her unborn child, and pressed her lips to mine. 

She tasted sweet, mingled with the salt of tears but I pushed my chin up and locked our lips, I was dying, might as well make it a good one. 

[inactiveimaginehiccstrid]

Hunger Games AU- Astrid and Hiccup in the cave?

would be so rad to have more THG AU!

I think I already did the cave scene? I think? I'll do the beach scene because I haven't done that one yet.

-

Astrid sits with her legs curled to her chest. She stares out at the sparkling ocean. Everything seems so serene, and she wishes she could pretend she's back in District Berk with nothing but the forest and the birds by her side, no Capitol, no Games, no President Drago, just nature and stillness and a life uncontrolled, untouched by the claws of the Capitol.

Someone sits by her. She glances over to see it's Hiccup.

He says nothing, thankfully, and absently doodles a dragon in the sand with his fingertip. He loves dragons. He always has. He's even managed to train one of the dragons that attacked them yesterday, and now he lets it curl up against him as he draws.

That's pretty rebellious of him, Astrid thinks as she watches him scratch the dragon's midnight-black scales. He took a creature meant for death and despair and made it his friend. Suddenly, she has a little more respect for the boy.

Okay, maybe a lot more. These past few months, she's grown fond of Hiccup. His soft ways used to horrify her. How could something so gentle and sweet survive in the harsh, bitter Games? But now she relies on his sweetness, his softness, his nurturing love. It draws her away from her hatred of the Capitol. It slowly reels her heart out of its darkness and anger. It keeps her from becoming like Ruffnut, so bitter and angry with no one left. In all honesty, Astrid thinks she'd be a lot worse if she didn't have Hiccup with her.

Hiccup's dragon stands up and dives into the ocean. They both watch as it swims down and pops back up with a silver fish clenched between its teeth.

"Good boy," Hiccup says and rubs the dragon's now-wet nose. 

"President Drago's not going to like this," Astrid warns him.

"Like I care. What harm could a little dragon do?"

"Little? Hiccup, it's big enough for you to ride on its back. And it can do a lot of harm, like killing everyone in this Arena."

"Toothless isn't going to kill anyone. Right, boy?"

The dragon nods like it can understand them.

"Toothless?" Astrid echoes.

"Yeah." Hiccup grins at her. 

Smiling, she shakes her head. Only Hiccup would give such a cozy pet name to such a cold creature.

He looks at her. "What are you doing sitting all by yourself? Eret says we can trust Ruffnut. After all, she did save Gothi for you. Poor thing's a little spooked now, though."

"I was just thinking," Astrid says and presses her chin into her forearms.

"About?"

She can't mention the forest. If the microphones pick up and alert the world that she's been hunting in a forbidden forest, she'll endanger her whole family.

Astrid's chest stings at the mention of family. So she chooses them as a topic instead. It fits with her persona of being a family person. "I miss my family."

Hiccup nods. She suddenly feels bad because his family hates him. They don't understand him. And she's rubbing salt in a wound, isn't she?

Toothless drags his tail through the sand, mimicking the way Hiccup is doodling. Hiccup smiles a little. "You'll see them soon."

As if. She'd already made Gobber promise he'd help Hiccup instead of her. "No."

"They need you, Astrid. You have to be the Victor. You have to win this. For them."

"But what about you?" Astrid hates thinking about Hiccup dying. If he dies, the Capitol wins. She'll be at a loss. The only refuge she has from all this evil will be gone. He'll be gone. She adds, "What about your family?"

He gives a little laugh through his nose. "They don't need me."

She's about to argue, but she bites her tongue. He's right. They don't.

"Nobody needs me."

"But I do," Astrid blurts. "I need you, Hiccup."

His hand finds its way to meet hers. They squeeze each other's hands and Astrid can't believe she told him that. But she does. She needs him. She knows that now. She can't do this without him. She can't live if he's dead, and she won't let him die so she can live. She absolutely refuses.

Hiccup begins to lean forward. Impulse seizes Astrid and she leans in to meet his lips halfway.

And then something new happens.

She's kissed him hundreds of times before. These cool, soft lips are familiar when they're up against hers. Only this time she feels something spark in her chest. Something warm, something nice, something fluttery. Something hungry. She knows hungry better than most, but this kind of hunger is more of an intoxicated one. Suddenly, Astrid doesn't remember all those cold kisses, the ones they did for the sake of their survival. Now her senses light up and he's the one who pulls away.

Behind them, Ruffnut gags. "All right, cut it out. We have work to do."

Astrid stares helplessly at Hiccup as he stands up.

"Let's go," he says, giving her a half-smile. Toothless follows him as he walks back to the others.

Astrid slowly rises to her feet. "Hiccup ..."

He looks over his shoulder at her. "Yeah?"

A breeze makes her hair float and the sunset frames his outline in a way that makes her stomach turn. Disgusting.

Astrid battles the hunger rising in her chest, the urge to kiss him again. "Um, thanks."

The corner of his mouth pokes upward. "For what?"

She blushes. Oops. "Sitting with me?"

The other corner turns up and he gives her a full smile. "Anytime."

He resumes his walking, Toothless bouncing beside him, and Astrid watches him go.

[yamazakisousuke-rpblog]

'heyitsaznfangirl ha risposto al tuo post :THG!AU in which Sousuke volunteers as a tribute to...

Let’s go do this aha haaaa

I don't want Sousuke to kill Miharu ;O; I already have a headcanon that he finds himself forced to kill Momo... that Ai dies to save him (because he knows how dear he is to his beloved mentor) and that Nagisa dies after saving Haru (as Rue did after saving Katniss in THG).

[inactiveimaginehiccstrid]

More THG please 😊😊😊?

Moar THG AU please please please :D

Here's the THG AU tag (to read in order, scroll down and work your way back up.)

-

President Drago folds his hands on the desk and looks up at Astrid. She feels like he's staring into her soul, into her mind, and nothing is secret.

"Miss Hofferson, some people in the Capitol are captivated by you and your charming boyfriend's romance. They think it's adorable, but mostly importantly they are distracted from it. That's what the Games are: a distraction."

No, Astrid thinks angrily. They're a reminder. A reminder that you're in complete control. A reminder that if you want to swoop up our kids and pin them against each other until there's only one left, then you can and you will and we have no control. You don't mean to help us or give us hope. Oh, no, you want to take that little shard of hope away. Crush it in your glove and remind us you're in charge.

But she bites her tongue.

"You look angry, Miss Hofferson," President Drago notes.

"N-no, sir. Just thinking."

"Don't tell me lies. You've done that enough alive."

She starts to say something, then he cuts her off.

"As I was saying, some people are so very enchanted by you and Hiccup."

Astrid bristles slightly at the mention of Hiccup, then feels ashamed and ducks her head. Hopefully it looks like she's ducking her head to hide her blush.

"But some aren't. And I am one of those people."

"What are you saying?" she asks quietly. "I should try to convince them?"

"Yes. But most of all, you should try to convince me. Prove me wrong. Prove that you'd die for this boy. Need I tell you what happens if you don't?" 

Her family. Astrid bites back a scream, then swallows it. "No, sir."

"Good." He rises and hands her a rose. "For you, my dear."

As soon as he leaves the room, she crushes it under her boot.

-

They fake their way through the tour. As soon as the cameras are on, they smile, wave, hug, and kiss. Then as soon as the cameras go off, they go back to being icy and distant.

Astrid notices Hiccup's kiss is colder, more detached, and his eyes don't shine the way they used to when he looks at her. He's always had that natural love, that natural charm that endures people without even trying. But she doesn't. She can't be funny or clever or charming. She can't make an audience roar with laughter - and on the very few occasions that she does, it's mostly prompts from Tuffnut Flickerman. 

But she has to if she's to make it out alive. So she tries her best and hopes it's enough.

It isn't.

And now everybody's going to pay.

She accidentally breaks down when they visit Gustav's district. She can't help herself. He was her friend and it absolutely kills her that she couldn't save him.

An old man thrusts three fingers in the air and whistles the way Gustav did, the mockingjay whistle.

Astrid smiles gratefully at him, but the guards drag him to the front and run a bullet through his head. She screams and fights, but Gobber and Hiccup grab her and drag her back to the train.

"They can't do that!" she yells between sobs. "They can't hurt him!"

"Are you crazy?" Hiccup hisses as they take her back to the train. "Of course they can. They're the Capitol."

"They're going to kill my family," Astrid sobs and rips her arms away from their grasps. "They're going to hurt them. I can't let them do that."

Hiccup's face goes white and Gobber stares at her in horror.

Astrid swipes at her eyes - she hates crying; it makes her feel so exposed. "P-President Drago came and said they were going to kill my family." She gulps down a sob. "He didn't b-believe our act. He didn't think we were really in love."

"And you mention this now?" Hiccup says incredulously. 

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do."

"Astrid, people have died! And I have a family, too, you know! I have people who I need to keep safe."

But he doesn't. Astrid quietly dries her tears with her sleeve as Gobber calms Hiccup down and she realizes he doesn't have anybody. Only his father - the cold Victor who has never taken any pride in having Hiccup as a son.

Nobody cares about Hiccup, Astrid thinks with a physical pang of pain. Not even me.

And then she's ashamed, so, so ashamed.