The Hunger Games

[Frybread002]

[center][center]Forward:
Before you being reading, this particular fan-fic will only be one-shot story. The reason for this, is that I'm still trying to figure out how to format the story and the exact planning of the story. So just to do a little [i]"Preview Test"[/i], I just want to see what I need to work on (such as grammer or more/less detail in the story).

To send your thoughts, ideas, opinions, or death threats, either post in the thread or send me a PM.

[Spoiler=Plot]
Imagine living in a world where you or your closet friend, lover, or family member are put in an annual reaping to be placed in a arena filled with 24 other people to fight to the death. You have no rules or supplies to start off it. Your only real hope is either by luck, skill, or by determination.

Now, imagine your opponents being between the ages of 12-18 years old. Catorgarized by 12 boys and 12 girls. If you win, you obviously had to kill 23 other kids, but you and your home-town get to live in peace for one year until the annual reaping starts again. If you lose, you die and your hometown has to suffer from lack of supplies.

Lastly, if you can't imagine it, then imagine reading multiple journal entries by an participant who describes in detail of every moment insides these "Games." Whether[i] this writter [/i]lived or die is unknown, but could you handle it? So to finish off, image this "Reaping" an national event where it's treated as an "Holiday." How would you live it?

These are the Hunger Games lived through the eyes of the partcipant named Will Farley. A coward who is afraid of his own shadow.
[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Chapter 1]
Entering the cylindrical tube that will take me down to my eventual death sentence, the silence that enveloped the room made me feel like breaking down again, but my stylist wouldn’t allow it.

While waiting in the prep room (although it‘s officially dubbed the “Launch Room“), the silence in the air was too loud for my taste and I tried speaking to Lance, my stylist, but that failed when he only murmured, pretending to be interested. With some 20 minutes left before the bloodbath at the Cornucopia and where I may eventually get killed, I couldn’t feel but anxious.

Tick-Tock…Tick-Tock…Tick-Tock…

Silence…

Tick-Tock…Tick-Tock…Tick-Tock…

More silence…

That silence Lance was comfortable with, made me feel like puking. As the mass majority of people who know already, the Hunger Games only have one rule and a set of guidelines: don’t step off your platform for 1minute or have your legs blown off by a landmine (there is always one unfortunate soul who forgets this) and try to make this entertaining as possible (as spoken by Lance himself). It made me laugh a bit but I couldn’t help but cry again, but walking into that tube felt like a coffin. This only made me feel worse. Something like “hammered crap.”

“How’s it feel?” Lance asked

Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting Lance to say anything to me, as he was that silent type and a man of few words. So the only thing I could do was just stare at him in silence while he looked towards the wall this time. Purposely avoiding eye contact with me. But at the same time, his voice also soothed me. You see, despite my age, I still consider myself a boy. A baby who still doesn’t know how to walk yet. I needed to depend on others just to live each day back in my District. And truthfully, I should’ve been dead a long, long time ago. If it wasn’t for my mother being a doctor, I wouldn’t know how to fix a broken bone or cure a common cold. If my two brothers weren’t there for me when I nearly died of hopelessness, then I wouldn’t be here by now.

“How does it feel before the launch?” Lance asked me again. Only this time he was staring me straight in the eye.

I wasn’t really sure if I should responded or not, because I really haven’t spoken to him at all. Except for the occasional “Yes or No” answers. But luckily he finished anyway without me having to say anything.

“Did you know, couple hundred years ago, there were these tribes who lived somewhere out in the ocean? Before every battle, the men would cry out a victory song and dance before their enemies. This would not only intimidate their foes, but their cries also withered away any doubt they had and made them stronger.”

Before I could even start my sentence, Lance stopped me short in my tracks, glanced his head towards my direction and was about to say something else, but stopped himself as he sat down on his chair, unsure about what he was going to say and pondered for a bit, then turned his head away… just simply staring into the ceiling.

Instead, he told me to shout at the top of my lungs and reassured me that I would feel better. Hesitant at fist, I shouted as loud as I could for as long as I can. I was feeling a little light-headed, but Lance had me do it over and over again until I was out of breath and breathing heavily. Honestly though, this only made me tired and just easier to kill. I was going to open my mouth to complain but then I’d realized all the anxiety and pressure I’ve been building up was gone. Just like that. It’s amazing what shouting can do when you’re nervous.
I’d never realized it before, but despite the hard exterior of Lance - my stylist - he made me realized that whether I know it or not, there was always somebody who cares about me. Regardless of creed, nation, or ideologies.

In the Hunger Games, we all lose something and for Lance, it was his child.
I was never told the details, but from what I was able to get out of my prep team and “supposed” mentor, Lance was also a tribute in the 14th Hunger Games. 10 years before I was selected. 6 years before my eldest brother Nate was selected. 5 Years before my second eldest brother John was stolen from me. And 4 years before somebody volunteered to take my place on Reaping Day…

“Whatever happens, don’t hate the Capital for what they’ve done. Don’t hate the Hunger Games for taking your brothers. Don’t hate your Districts for making you weak. You only have yourself to hate.” Lance finally spoke again. With his calm and collected voice, I could do was just snap back with a tone of malice.

“What do you mean don’t hate them!? Shouldn’t we have every right to hate them? At least have the right of gritting our teeth!?”

Is what I wanted to say, but my cowardly self wouldn’t let me. All I could do was just stare him in the eye. Only his right eye, because his left eye was shoot out by an arrow in his year of victory. During his year of the Hunger Games.

“24 years ago, Panem waged war against the Districts and we lost. We waged war because we didn’t like our government. Before any of this ever happened, we believed in “For the people, by the people”. Our ancestors believed in taking the government and shape it the way we want it to be. To give us freedom from tyranny and dictatorship. That ideology was in the time before Panem was ever created. Created over some 500 years ago. Maybe it happened many more years ago, or maybe it happened more recently, but over the course of time and history, their legacy was taken by future generations and molded to be shaped for their generation and THEIR generation only. Then their kids took their legacy and kept molding and molding so it could fit their needs. This was our ancestors Meme. Times has changed and so has our ideologies. I don’t remember or even know what our ancestors wanted when they mean by “freedom”, but for us, when those Districts rebelled over 24 years ago, we’d lost and as punishment for going against our government, it was clear we needed to be punished and reminded so that we wouldn’t repeat such an event ever again.”

I couldn’t believe what I heard from my stylist. MY OWN STYLIST!! For all I knew, my stylist was once an participant in the Hunger Games, but I had no idea that he thought like that. Personally, I couldn’t hold it in any longer, but all that anxiety that I felt earlier came back again and hit me full force that I started to tear up. But can’t look weak. No in front of millions of people across an entire continent. So to cover my face, I’d just simply blinked and closed my eyes. Pretending to be thinking of something else.

Surprisingly though, Lance must’ve been an expert at reading facial expressions, because what he said next, made me break down into complete tears. With only 10 minutes left till launch time.

“Let me re-phrase that;
cultivate your hunger, before you idealize. Motivate your anger, to make them all realize. But most of all, Don’t try to live so wise, Don’t cry ‘cos you’re so right, and Don’t dry with fakes or dears, ‘cos in the end, you will hate yourself in the end.”

I couldn’t help but run up and hug him while he sat there on his chair facing the wall away from me. It’s true, I’m a crybaby who needs to hold somebody’s hand, but honestly!? How can I even win if I can’t even keep a straight face before I even have a chance!?

“Relax, just relax. Your mentor should’ve already gave you instructions, so I don’t need to say anything else. So it’s time to get you changed up into your gear.” Lance said with his usual voice as he sat there. But only this time, he shifted his head a bit forward and returned the hug. “Before they shipped it in, I was able to get a sneak peak at the gear. To give you a little heads up before you launch out.”

And he was right. The next thing I noticed, is him gently brushing me aside to walk up to a duffle bag that just came in and unzip it. Inside were three different pairs of pants, a regular pair of blue-denim jeans, brown cargo pants, and brightly yellow-camo pants. Aside from the pants were a long-sleeved shirt (colored brown), a black jacket, and a nice pair of hiking boots.

“W-what kind of environment d-do you think I’ll be in…?” I finally asked. With much more confidence. Wiping the tears away from my eyes. These being my first words towards him.
Lance giggled lightly with a response of one word. “Dessert.”

[/spoiler]
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[spoiler=Chapter 2]
Naturally speaking, Lance’s plain rudeness and attitude would never allowed him to say anything like “Good luck” or “Stay Alive” when it was finally time for me to go inside the tube. Instead, the only words I heard him say before the glass tube encased me, was “Give em’ hell.”

I have a hard time remembering, but I think he was one of the few people who’d really accepted me for who I really was; a coward, a weakling, timid, and just a plain pathetic child.
On my way down to the arena, my only choices I had before I entered the tube was the choice of pants. Which I choose the cargo pants, with some advice from Lance.

I wonder if anyone ever tried to jump off the platform before the landmines were set in place. Of course, that’s probably the reason why they’re their in the first place. To prevent anyone from cheating…Wait, what am I thinking of, of course you can cheat. The Gamemakers probably put it there just for entertainment. Although he said “Dessert” I wonder if it’s an actual dessert, or just something close to one. But now that I think of it, I’d never seen an dessert in my life before, so this made me all the more zealous of getting out of here.
Light. BANG! Ringing eardrums…Roaring laughter and crowds cheering.

When I could finally see something at the bottom of my tube, I heard an loud explosion coming from the outside. When I was technically “outside”, I could see massive walls behind me and some defining cheering from crowds. But “where” is it coming from? I was blinded the moment sun hit my face, so I had to take a moment to get my bearings.

After getting my vision cleared, I’d noticed THE CROWD was in THE ARENA! Sitting maybe 50...80 feet high, far from the reaches of the actual Arena, I’d notice they’re cheering for something, but what?

“KEKEKEKEKEKEKE!!!! ALL OF YOU WHO ARE WATCHING!!! REMEMBER RODNEY “THE DEVIL HIRUMA” LUPE IS THE ONE WHO ALWAYS WIN!!!!!”

I. COULD. NOT. BELIEVE. IT.

That laughter. That voice. But most of all, that attitude, could only belong to one person whom I actually met during the 4 days of training back in the Capitol. Rodney Lupe. I can’t understand how he did it, but that son-of-a-b**** had detonated the landmines around his platform before he touched the ground!! And now… And now he has a one minute head start before everyone else to get to the golden horn that sits in the center of the Arena to take the items that make the difference of life and death in these games. Food, supplies, medicine and weapons. All fair game and all sit in the horn called the Cornucopia.

I could already see the other districts made and revving to go, as they already know what a head start means. But if Rodney doesn’t die before they get their hands on him, then the environment will. Because right now, we are sitting atop a giant cliff some 300 feet up and we can all see the different environments from here. Dessert. Forest. Rivers. Canyons. Mountains.
[/spoiler][/center][/center]

[.Rai]

So far it just feels like a complete retelling of the real book.

Unless there is another plot twist which is miles off from any one in the Hunger Games book, I'll simply take this as a fan fic which is just trying to imitate the real thing, instead of making it original.

I may look further into it if I see anything interesting.

[Frybread002]

[quote name='Cursed Reaction' timestamp='1314566610' post='5475621']
So far it just feels like a complete retelling of the real book.

Unless there is another plot twist which is miles off from any one in the Hunger Games book, I'll simply take this as a fan fic which is just trying to imitate the real thing, instead of making it original.

I may look further into it if I see anything interesting.
[/quote]

Hmm...Alright, I see where you're going and I hear ya. Personally I think that may be my biggest challenge yet, is trying to make the overall story more [i]original[/i], but the only biggest concern for me is trying to make an appropriate opening to try to make it stand out. So the only real good idea I could come up with, is by doing an opening a few minutes before the launch. Not only that, but I also tried to make the main character more of a coward. But I'm not really that good in making fan-fiction in the first place, so I'm having some hard times making the fan-fic itself.

[.Rai]

Hmm, okay. Well, I'll make sure to look for updates so I can review.

[Frybread002]

Alrighty cool, but the only problem is that this is only a one-shot story. I only posted because I still have no clue on how to format the story and the exact planning of the story. So if you like, I would be more than welcome if you could help me out.

[Dr. Cakey]

[spoiler='Growing Praise and Adulation: Episode 23: Dropping Fire']
[b]This is [i]The Hunger Games[/i][/b] [b]by Frybread002. Yes. He could not be bothered to even think of a subtitle. Like[i] The Hunger Games: Revelation[/i] or [i]The Hunger Games: Revolution[/i] or [i]The Hunger Games: Relocation[/i] or, since there are three previous [i]Hunger Games[/i] books, this could be called [i]The Hunger G4mes[/i]. And, for anyone who’s been waiting for it, might I also suggest [i]The Hunger Games: Electric Boogaloo[/i]?[/b]

[b]Before I continue, let’s discuss Mr. Frybread II’s choice of universe: [i]The Hunger Games[/i]. Put simply, I do not have confidence in his ability to write in this universe. Now – this being a pessimistic Foe Fiction-style review - I also do not have confidence in his ability to write in any other universe, but I’m speaking specifically about [i]The Hunger Games[/i] because it’s [i]good[/i]. If I’m reading a [i]Yu-Gi-Oh![/i] story, as long as the duels are better than this:[/b]
[b][quote name=’Crab Helmet’][/b]
Crab Helmet: 4000
Der Quizzler: 4000

I'll go first. I summon UItimate Necromantic Dragon! By paying 3800 Life Points, I can Special Summon it! It removes your whole field and Graveyard from play, and them removes everything that's already removed from play even further from play, and then discards your entire hand. It has 12442 ATK and DEF, can't be removed from the field or destroyed in any way, and can attack on the very first turn of the duel. Go, attack for-

Der Quizzler: "Necro Gardna".

You're... blocking my attack? Well, that's no fair. Fine, your turn.

Der Quizzler: "I draw. Sparks. I win."[/quote]
[b]I’m satisfied. Frybread the Second, on the other hand, is going to have to psychologically torture at least one of his characters, and preferably have at least one person eaten alive.[/b]

[b]Good luck.[/b]

[b]And now for *cough*Chapter*crabhelmetripoff* Plot.[/b]

Imagine living in a world where you or your closet friend, lover, or family member
[b]Closet lover makes sense, but I’m not sure how many people have closet friends. Closet family member may be even more concerning. On the other hand, this may explain something about the Frybread family situation…[/b]

Imagine living in a world where you or your closet friend, lover, or family member are put
[b]Is put. You’re using ‘or’, so there’s no plural involved.[/b]


are put in an annual reaping to be placed in a arena filled with 24 other people to fight to the death.
[b]This sentence…is tangled. There are bits of it in-universe, bits out of told from out-of-universe. Also, unless someone from District 13 got bored and decided to enter the Hunger Games, there would be twenty-[i]three[/i] (spell out your numbers) other people. I’m pretty sure 12 x 2 = 24.[/b]

You have no rules or supplies to start off it.
[b]Damn, I could win if only I had some [i]rules[/i]…[/b]

Your only real hope [b]to win/survive [/b]is either by luck, skill, or by determination.
[b]You’re welcome.[/b]

Now, imagine your opponents being between the ages of 12-18 years old.
[b]I have no idea how old you are, but your opponents are between [s]12-18[/s] twelve and eighteen.[/b]

Catorgarized by 12 boys and 12 girls.
[b]The hell is catorgarized supposed to – Oh my god, I just had a horrible thought. The Frybread family is so inbread they can’t spell ‘cateogorized’.[/b]

[b]Except that ‘categorized by 12 boys and 12 girls’ neither makes sense nor is a sentence.[/b]

If you win, you obviously had to kill 23 other kids, but you and your home-town get to live in peace for one year until the annual reaping starts again. If you lose, you die and your hometown has to suffer from lack of supplies.

Lastly, if you can't imagine it, then imagine reading multiple journal entries by an participant who describes in detail of every moment insides these "Games." Whether[i] this writter[/i]
[i][b]We’re not playing a drinking game, but by god take a sip. Take a sip[/b][/i][i][b].[/b][/i]

lived or die is unknown, but could you handle it?
[b]Well, not to burst your bubble or anything (actually, specifically in order to burst your bubble), but I think I would much rather read somebody’s journal than actually participate. Where did they find the time to write journal entries, though?[/b]

So to finish off, image this "Reaping" an national event where it's treated as an "Holiday."
[b]“Form an image in your mind.”[/b]

[b]Aw, come on, we must have some [i]Cardfight!! Vanguard[/i] fans here.[/b]

How would you live it?

These are the Hunger Games lived through the eyes of the partcipant named Will Farley. A coward who is afraid of his own shadow.
[b]Seeing as I can see by now you don’t have the literary muscle to tackle the complexity of a participant in the Hunger Games being unable to actually fight, I suspect this story will have much less to do with him being a coward and much more with him stopping being a coward. At the end, the Shyamalan-esque twist will be that [s]he’s already dead[/s] [s]Zuko is the guy in the blue mask[/s] he dies.[/b]

[b]But hey, I could be proven wrong: let’s find out together![/b]

Chapter 1

Entering the cylindrical tube that will take me down to my eventual death sentence, the silence that enveloped the room made me feel like breaking down again, but my stylist wouldn’t allow it.

While waiting in the prep room (although it‘s officially dubbed the “Launch Room“), the silence in the air was too loud for my taste and I tried speaking to Lance, my stylist, but that failed when he only murmured, pretending to be interested. With some 20 minutes left before the bloodbath at the Cornucopia and where I may eventually get killed, I couldn’t [b]help [/b]feel but anxious.
[b]You’re welcome. Again. Am I the only one who noticed all the people in the capital have Roman names, or are you just bad?[/b]

Tick-Tock…Tick-Tock…Tick-Tock…
[b]There’s a clock in here?[/b]

Silence…
[b]A pretty crappy clock it seems.[/b]

Tick-Tock…Tick-Tock…Tick-Tock…
[b]One-Four-Four-Two?[/b]

More silence…
[b]And then…for the last time…absolutely…nothing happened.[/b]

That silence Lance was comfortable with, made me feel like puking. As the mass majority of people who know already, the Hunger Games only have one rule and a set of guidelines: don’t step off your platform for 1minute or have your legs blown off by a landmine (there is always one unfortunate soul who forgets this) and try to make this entertaining as possible (as spoken by Lance himself). It made me laugh a bit but I couldn’t help but cry again, but walking into that tube felt like a coffin.
[b]Are you sure it was the act of walking into the tube that felt like a coffin, rather than the tube itself?[/b]

This only made me feel worse. Something like “hammered crap.”
[b]I am unfamiliar with this feeling.[/b]

“How’s it feel?” Lance asked

Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting Lance to say anything to me, as he was that silent type and a man of few words. So the only thing I could do was just stare at him in silence while he looked towards the wall this time.
[b]When Lance doesn’t want to talk Unnamed Protagonist Who Was Named In The Prologue And Is Named Will Farley, Will wants to talk. When Lance wants to talk, Will doesn’t. Will actually just gets off on screwing with people’s heads.[/b]

Purposely avoiding eye contact with me. But at the same time, his voice also soothed me. You see, despite my age, I still consider myself a boy. A baby who still doesn’t know how to walk yet.
[b]Don’t listen. He’s just trying to win your sympathy before he breaks your heart.[/b]

I needed to depend on others just to live each day back in my District. And truthfully, I should’ve been dead a long, long time ago. If it wasn’t for my mother being a doctor, I wouldn’t know how to fix a broken bone or cure a common cold. If my two brothers weren’t there for me when I nearly died of hopelessness, then I wouldn’t be here by now.
[b]Will apparently didn’t have a [i]reason[/i] for nearly dying of hopelessness (caused by a rare bacteria, scientific name [i]Zetsubou aporiannus[/i]), like his mother dying, or even his pet goldfish dying. He just woke up one day and decided to angst about life in general.[/b]

“How does it feel before the launch?” Lance asked me again. Only this time he was staring me straight in the eye.

I wasn’t really sure if I should responded or not, because I really haven’t spoken to him at all. Except for the occasional “Yes or No” answers. But luckily he finished anyway without me having to say anything.
[b]Don’t worry. When no one’s around, Will is totally a chatty Cathy. He just doesn’t like talking to people whenever people want to talk to [i]him.[/i][/b]

[b]Who do you think you are? Shinji?[/b]

“Did you know, couple hundred years ago, there were these tribes who lived somewhere out in the ocean? Before every battle, the men would cry out a victory song and dance before their enemies. This would not only intimidate their foes, but their cries also withered away any doubt they had and made them stronger.”
[b]This…may or may not be true?[/b]


Before I could even start my sentence, Lance stopped me short in my tracks, glanced his head towards my direction and was about to say something else, but stopped himself as he sat down on his chair, unsure about what he was going to say and pondered for a bit, then turned his head away… just simply staring into the ceiling.
[b]And so Lance decided to say nothing at all…[/b]

Instead, he told me to shout at the top of my lungs and reassured me that I would feel better.
[b]Then he got bored and decided to say something after all.[/b]

Hesitant at fist, I shouted as loud as I could for as long as I can.
[b]Past/present tense confusion is this chapter over yet[/b]

I was feeling a little light-headed, but Lance had me do it over and over again until I was out of breath and breathing heavily. Honestly though, this only made me tired and just easier to kill. I was going to open my mouth to complain but then I’d realized all the anxiety and pressure I’ve been building up was gone. Just like that.
[b]Except for the anxiety about being made tired and easier to kill. Next time I recommend Prozac.[/b]

It’s amazing what shouting can do when you’re nervous.
I’d never realized it before, but despite the hard exterior of Lance - my stylist - he made me realized that whether I know it or not, there was always somebody who cares about me. Regardless of creed, nation, or ideologies.
[b]Which reminds me, Lance doesn’t act like a stylist, or anyone else from the Capital we meet in the books.[/b]

In the Hunger Games, we all lose something and for Lance, it was his child.
I was never told the details, but from what I was able to get out of my prep team and “supposed” mentor, Lance was also a tribute in the 14th Hunger Games. 10 years before I was selected. 6 years before my eldest brother Nate was selected. 5 Years before my second eldest brother John was stolen from me. And 4 years before somebody volunteered to take my place on Reaping Day…
[b]Yeah, you’re going to have to run that be me again. Unless Lance is magically not from the Capital, he wouldn’t have ever been a tribute. That makes as much sense as an emperor taxing himself.[/b]

“Whatever happens, don’t hate the Capital for what they’ve done. Don’t hate the Hunger Games for taking your brothers. Don’t hate your Districts for making you weak. You only have yourself to hate.” Lance finally spoke again. With his calm and collected voice, I could do was just snap back with a tone of malice.

“What do you mean don’t hate them!? Shouldn’t we have every right to hate them? At least have the right of gritting our teeth!?”
[b]“LET ME SEE YOU [i]GRIT THOSE TEETH![/i]”[/b]

[b]Oh, come on, [i]Gurren Lagann[/i] never gets old.[/b]

Is what I wanted to say, but my cowardly self wouldn’t let me. All I could do was just stare him in the eye.
[b]Step 1. Snap back with a tone of malice.[/b]
[b]Step 2. Specific dialogue.[/b]
[b]Step 3. By “snap back with a tone of malice” I meant, “not snap back with a tone of malice”.[/b]

Only his right eye, because his left eye was shoot out by an arrow in his year of victory. During his year of the Hunger Games.
[b]I never heard the details, but from what I was able to get out of the prep team, Lance was a tribute in the Fourteenth Hunger Game – okay, I’ll stop.[/b]

“24 years ago, Panem waged war against the Districts and we lost. We waged war because we didn’t like our government. Before any of this ever happened, we believed in “For the people, by the people”. Our ancestors believed in taking the government and shape it the way we want it to be. To give us freedom from tyranny and dictatorship. That ideology was in the time before Panem was ever created. Created over some 500 years ago. Maybe it happened many more years ago, or maybe it happened more recently, but over the course of time and history, their legacy was taken by future generations and molded to be shaped for their generation and THEIR generation only. Then their kids took their legacy and kept molding and molding so it could fit their needs. This was our ancestors Meme. Times has changed and so has our ideologies. I don’t remember or even know what our ancestors wanted when they mean by “freedom”, but for us, when those Districts rebelled over 24 years ago, we’d lost and as punishment for going against our government, it was clear we needed to be punished and reminded so that we wouldn’t repeat such an event ever again.”
[b]Sounds like the rambling of a crazy person. I never finished [i]Mockingjay[/i], so there might be some historical niceties I’m missing, but I get the impression that “and then people got bored with freedom so they stopped doing it” was [i]not[/i] the genesis of the current state of affairs.[/b]


I couldn’t believe what I heard from my stylist. MY OWN STYLIST!!
[b]Ridiculous! Who could believe that someone from the Capital would have the same point of view as [i]everyone else in the Capital[/i]!?[/b]

For all I knew, my stylist was once an participant in the Hunger Games, but I had no idea that he thought like that. Personally, I couldn’t hold it in any longer, but all that anxiety that I felt earlier came back again and hit me full force that I started to tear up. But can’t look weak. No in front of millions of people across an entire continent. So to cover my face, I’d just simply blinked and closed my eyes. Pretending to be thinking of something else.
[b]Summary of the paragraph:[/b]
[b]I couldn’t hold my generic emotions in any more. I did anyway.[/b]

Surprisingly though, Lance must’ve been an expert at reading facial expressions, because what he said next, made me break down into complete tears. With only 10 minutes left till launch time.

“Let me re-phrase that;
cultivate your hunger, before you idealize. Motivate your anger, to make them all realize. But most of all, Don’t try to live so wise, Don’t cry ‘cos you’re so right, and Don’t dry with fakes or dears, ‘cos in the end, you will hate yourself in the end.”
[b]I can tell three things from this paragraph:[/b]
[b]1. Those are lines from a song.[/b]
[b]2. That song is bad.[/b]
[b]3. Frybread002 is not as good at writing as I had previously thought.[/b]

I couldn’t help but run up and hug him while he sat there on his chair facing the wall away from me. It’s true, I’m a crybaby who needs to hold somebody’s hand, but honestly!? How can I even win if I can’t even keep a straight face before I even have a chance!?
[b]I’ll take this opportunity to point out that whenever characters try to describe themselves, they’re wrong. [i]Always[/i]. Seriously, pay attention and you’ll find how often this holds true. Specifically this holds true about a character’s surface self-examination, not their final self-understanding in the climax. So by whining that he’s a coward, we can now rest assured that Will will perform acts of daring, because he has flat-out told us.[/b]

“Relax, just relax. Your mentor should’ve already gave you instructions, so I don’t need to say anything else. So it’s time to get you changed up into your gear.” Lance said with his usual voice as he sat there. But only this time, he shifted his head a bit forward and returned the hug. “Before they shipped it in, I was able to get a sneak peak at the gear. To give you a little heads up before you launch out.”

And he was right. The next thing I noticed, is him gently brushing me aside to walk up to a duffle bag that just came in and unzip it. Inside were three different pairs of pants, a regular pair of blue-denim jeans, brown cargo pants, and brightly yellow-camo pants. Aside from the pants were a long-sleeved shirt (colored brown), a black jacket, and a nice pair of hiking boots.
[b]If you can’t tell, I’m really bored by this point. And hungry. idgaf what you’re wearing. [/b]


“W-what kind of environment d-do you think I’ll be in…?” I finally asked. With much more confidence. Wiping the tears away from my eyes. These being my first words towards him.
Lance giggled lightly with a response of one word. “Dessert.”
[b]...[/b]

[b]Alright…[/b]

[b]…[/b]

[b]‘Desert’ is spelled with one ‘s’, because dessert is twice as good as a desert.[/b]

[b]In summation…wow. It’s odd because at times it seems passable. Then at other times it seems like it was written by whoever wrote [i]The duel[/i]. You seem to have a habit of dropping words out of your sentences. This, shall we say, somewhat alters the meaning of the story. Tackle something without depth before you cut yourself on [i]The Hunger Games[/i].[/b]
[/spoiler]