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hopelesslydimwitted · 23 hours ago

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KICKS THE DOOR DOWN. I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE READY FOR MORE

Hunger Games/Gravity Falls AU

In which the foundations of an alliance are made

(This particular installment includes blood and surface level descriptions of gore! And child death! This is the hunger games after all. It ALSO includes Emma May though so, it’s a give and a take. I also let my horror writer side out a little heavier for this…chapter? I think calling them one shots is a stretch so I’m falling these Installments. Sounds fancy. Anyway Enjoy!!)

There is something in the woods.

Well. This is the hunger games. Of course there are things in the woods.

Stan steps very carefully over a log, making sure not to step down on anything that might make a noise on the other side.

He's trying to get further back to the center, to the totem pole where this all began, in preparation.

Usually the gamemakers will herd the tributes closer together as time moves on, and as the games start to drag on for too long.

By Stan's count, it's been nearly two full weeks since he was lifted into the arena and sent off with a starting horn.

Two weeks. Somehow it seems like forever, and no time at all.

It's dark still, and that's why Stan is taking the time to walk so slow.

Very early morning is the best time to move around. During the day is a risk due to the other tributes, at night is out of the question due to the monsters that lurk the arena. Near dawn is the best time, and Stan intends to get ahead of the closing arena, and stay around the middle. Find a place for a final stand, prepare his final words, all that jazz.

He never thought he'd make it this far.

If Stan's being completely honest, he was absolutely sure he'd die the first day. Then, when that didn't happen, the second. Then the third, the fourth, and now he's survived all the way here, and he's not sure exactly what to do. How to feel.

He doesn't consider winning. There are seven tributes left in the game, him included. The odds against him are still pretty high.

The forest goes silent.

Stan stops.

It's never a good sign when all sound stops. Even the sound Stan wasn't aware he was hearing goes quiet. Crickets, bugs, even a buzzing fly, everything stops.

Things don't usually go utterly silent when a tribute comes around. The silence means it's something else.

Very carefully, Stan backs up. Slowly, he retraces the exact steps he just took, backwards until he steps sideways, until his back is up against a wide tree's trunk.

Stan scans the surrounding woods. The tree's here are thick, plants reaching up towards the sun and even in the light that's close to dawn the shadows stretch and unfurl into horrifying shapes, inching across the forest floor and to Stan's feet.

There is a sound, not too far away.

Foot falls, small ones. A person, not a game maker patented monster like the silence would have Stan believe.

He needs to go, run or hide somewhere. The footsteps could be a Career, but frankly any remaining tributes could be bad.

Stan sincerely hopes it's not Bud Gleeful.

The footsteps get faster.

They're headed right for him.

The tree being behind him is Stan's best bet. He can't run, there's something else out here and its not human, and Stan's more scared of that than he is of his fellow, human tributes, and even if that means he's about to get stabbed, there's no way Stan's gonna run off into the dark without knowing which direction he needs to avoid, it could be anywhere, the darkness is clawing at his sides and there's nowhere to run, Stan's heart is beating quick and shaky and he can't even breathe right, the panic is choking him and the footsteps are getting closer and-

Something grabs the back of his jacket.

Hands grab the hood, and it's so close and unexpected that Stan can't even scream, not even as the hands pull, yank him up.

Stan's feet leave the ground, but only barely. He jerks his head up.

Bangs. A snarl. Meat hook girl. District ten.

“Get up here,” she hisses.

She's still holding the back of his jacket like she's scruffing a barn cat, and Stan's half lifted and half suspended mid way up the side of the tree, but he can see the look in her eyes, the fear.

Stan digs the back of his heels into the bark, and claws with his hands. With her help, he is snatched up into the hanging boughs of the tree.

It's so fast, and fear is still pumping through his veins fast and hard like a drum, and Stan has no idea what's even going on, what does she know, why would she grab him?

“Wh-” Stan starts to say, and the girl from District ten slams her hand over his mouth like a punch and holds it.

It knocks Stan's head back a little, and he's still off balance, he hasn't found his footing really in the tree yet, not like she has, and Stan's crouch on the little jutted tree limb is shaky, and he starts to tilt. His arms pinwheel, trying to help himself and he can't make a single noise of alarm because of the hand over his mouth and he can't jerk his head away to rebalance.

“Shh.” Meat Hook seethes, and she wraps her other arm around his front and she pulls Stan backwards, until he's utterly pinned with his legs scrunched up and leaning back against her and the tree, all completely silent.

He tries to jerk his head away, and the hand over his mouth follows, and then utterly stills. Turned every so slightly, Stan can see his captor in his peripheral vision, he can see one wide eye.

He follows her line of sight.

Through the tree branches, through the leaves, Stan can see up ahead a tiny parting between the trees.

Coming towards their tree, is another tribute.

Thankfully, even with the hand still clamped in a vice grip over his mouth, Stan still has his glasses on, and he can see which tribute it is.

It's the boy from Seven. The lumber yards, Stan can't actually remember the kid's name. He's about fifteen, scrawny, and all Stan really knows about him is that the kid had a thing for woodpeckers.

Woodpecker boy looks utterly terrified.

Even from a distance, Stan can see how wide his eyes are, the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

He creeps forward, and he's not as careful as Stan was walking, because sticks crinkle and snap under his boot. The boy's eyes dart around wildly.

There is a loud rattling sound.

It sounds like a baby rattle, the one Shermie's son clenches in his tiny fist and shakes around whenever he's excited, or angry, or feeling any emotion really. That chh chh chh noise that reminds Stan of cicadas and summer nights, like bugs in tall grass.

Because he's been muffled so soundly, and because he's so close, and because the forest is so silent, Stan hears the girl from District ten- something May, he suddenly remembers- suck in a sharp breath through her teeth.

The woodpecker boy straightens up, and he looks so thoroughly petrified that Stan can almost feel the wash of fear that radiates off him.

Chh chh chh.

Something steps out from behind a tree, directly behind the boy.

Stan's eyes widen, and if there wasn't a hand over his mouth he would have probably let out a terrified noise.

It’s this…thing. Tall and spindly like the legs of a spider, like the furthest, smallest branches of a tree, like cracks in bark. Dark as shadow, darker even, with two glowing orange eyes perched and peeking out of the void that makes up the things face.

It has to be eight, nine, maybe even ten feet tall. It's head lines up in height perfectly where Stan is trapped, petrified in a tree not twenty feet away.

It towers over the boy, silent.

Emma May-her name finally pings in Stan's mind-stiffens all the way up behind him. Her hand that's pressing into his jaw presses even harder, like she's willing absolute silence through her fear alone.

The boy steps forward one more time. The thing follows.

It reaches up, a long fingered hand attached to a long thin wrist attached to a longer, thinner arm.

It reaches for the boy.

He doesn't even have time to turn around.

Stan slams his eyes closed.

It doesn't save him from the sounds of the boy’s scream, it doesn't save him from the noise the creature makes, that chh chh chh sound as it tears into his flesh. Closing his eyes doesn't save Stan from the visceral, wet cacophony of twisting and snapping bone, of meat being torn apart.

Chh chh chh

Stan can't make a single sound. The hand over his mouth prevents it, and underneath that he's gritting his teeth so hard that he can hear them creak, the sound of his jaw echoing in his head accompanied by the sounds of that thing.

He opens his eyes.

It's a mistake.

He might have imagined it was eating the poor kid. That the creature might, in some cruel way, have a reason for tearing him apart.

It doesn't.

The creature is standing in exactly the same place it was, except now there is no boy, there is only a broken piled mess of blood.

A cannon booms in the distance. Somehow it feels too late.

The thing stands there for another moment. It pokes, almost curiously, at the heaped mass of what is left of the boy on the ground. It isn't eating him, it's simply…observing.

Stan and Emma May hold perfectly still. Emma May isn't even breathing. Stan couldn't, even if he wanted to.

There is a twitch, a rustle and a crack of a breaking branch somewhere to the left of them. The creature snaps its head in that direction.

Chh chh chh.

It does not run. It doesn’t even seem to move with purpose. The creature turns, and simply starts walking in that direction, picking up long thin legs and moving forward towards the sound.

Chh chh chh.

They watch it go.

The two of them, Stan and Emma May, under no agreement to, stay exactly where they are for long minutes, listening.

Stan's legs are cramping from their positions, but he doesn't dare move them. He doesn't even dare move his hands, where they are braced and half supporting himself on the tree. Emma May's hand is still covering his mouth.

After it's been five, maybe ten minutes, sound returns to the forest.

The bugs seem to decide the danger has passed. Early light begins to pour in through the tree-lined. Everything is beginning to brighten up.

Very slowly, Stan reaches up a hand and prys Emma May's from his face. She lets go willingly.

“What was that thing?” Stan breathes. It's barely even a whisper, but his mind still screams of danger, of how fast that thing moved, the sound it made.

Emma May responds just as quietly. “I don't know.” She's still staring at where the creature disappeared away into the trees. Her eyes are a little distant. “I've seen it get two people. It comes out right before light.”

Well, there goes any of Stan's plans for traveling at dawn anytime every again.

That thing was right there. It was huge, there was no fighting it, no escaping it. Stan almost ran into it, completely unaware.

He almost just died.

He scoots up a little on the tree. The boughs itself aren't big, there isn't much room for one person of his size, let alone two people, but still he turns around so he can see Emma May properly for the first time.

He's sure she's a better sight than him. Her hair is tied back, most of it, except for the unruly bangs that seemed to have escaped. She's in the same survival clothes that he's in, although she has a bigger backpack.

“Thank you.” Stan says to her, a little breathless. “Seriously, I-you just saved my life.”

She doesn't even look at him, but her face tightens up, like she's mad.

Stan does what he does best, and keeps talking. Maybe if he fills the silence a little they can both get over the hurdle of the fear they just experienced.

“So uh, District 10 right?” Stan says. It's not his best opening line, but he's currently sitting in a tree with a girl he's supposed to be killing, and she just saved him, so his head is a little loose, cut him some slack.

“Ya know I-”

There is very suddenly a meat hook right in front of his face.

“Shut it Pines.” Emma May seethes. Wisely, Stan shuts up.

There's not much room to run. He could drop straight out of the tree, but he would hit the ground hard. His net is folded and attached to his belt, he wouldn't have time to get it out before she cleaves his face in half.

Emma May is still sort of whispering, that rapid, hushed tone like a mother scolding her kids or glass about to break. It's scary, and Stan can't look away from her face, even with the sharp end of a hook near his eye.

“I don't know what little game you're playing here,” she continues. “But leave me out of it. I know you saw me in the river.” Here Emma May pauses, like she can't quite believe what she's saying.

“You let me go.” She shakes the hook in his face. “Now I ain't got a clue why, but I just saved you, so now we're square. Got it? We are not friends, we are not allies, and the next time I see you, I will kill you, you understand?”

There was a time when Stan may have said that southern accents were sweet and cosy. He would like to amend that statement.

“Yes,” he squeaks.

“Good.” Emma May spits. She finally draws the hook, as sharp and menacing as it is, away from Stan's face. She leans back, giving him more space. “Now get the fuck out of my tree.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Stan's not afraid to say that he scrambles out of the tree. He still has the backpack, his knife, his net, and both his eyes, so he counts this a victory.

He gathers his footing again in the forest air. Dawn has broken, a new day will be coming soon.

Something still grates away at the back of his mind.

“Hey, Emma May?”

Her head pops over the side of the branch and her expression is almost enough to make him skedaddle out of there. Murderous isn't the right word, she looks like a grizzly bear that just got interrupted from its nap.

“What?”

Stan points in the direction of the lake.

“There's a sea monster in the lake.”

Emma May blinks. Blinks again. “What?”

“There's a sea monster in the lake,” Stan explains. “Big, like a, a crocodile or an alligator. Maybe those are the same thing. Anyway it's got a long neck, and might only eat fish, but I'm not sure.”

Emma May stares down at him. Her expression went from thunderous to utter confusion so fast Stan is impressed she doesn't have whiplash.

He shrugs. “You told me about that thing, it's only fair.”

Her face screws up in that funny way again. “Get out of here, Pines.”

“Yep! Sure, going now,” Stan says, and he starts to walk away, once again towards the arena's center. For some reason, he doesn't think he'll need to watch his back. At least, not from her.

“I'll uh, I'll see you around then?”

Emma May doesn't answer. She just watches him go.

“Uh huh.” Stan says, and he turns away, back to his own two feet. “See you around.”

He leaves her behind.

#ugh these sweet babies #emma may wants so badly to be tf out of these games

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