Fic Idea: Games
So, I have been thinking a lot lately of doing a Hunger Games bandom AU, but I’m not sure if I have the willpower to write something that epic if I don’t think anyone would enjoy it. So… here! Have a preview. If I do end up writing it, I would probably make this the teaser/prologue.
If you’ve read the books, you’ll notice that I played with it a little. I can do that, it’s fanfiction :D
So let me know if you’d be interested in reading a Hunger Games AU/ if you’d be willing to be support staff/ if you’d be willing to co-write.
Thanks!
Mikey’s arm that is clasped around me is tight. To those who are watching - to the cameras, it looks like it’s just a hug. Looks like he’s so happy that his Tribute - that both of his Tributes - are alive and well, but I know differently from how tight his hold is.
“Keep smiling,” he whispers roughly into my ear, as if to remind me that the cameras are broadcasting my face all over Panem - as if I could ever forget that. The cameras have been following me for the past week in the arena, watching my every move. They were there as I was chosen, too - as I took Spencer’s place as a Tribute for the Games. As Brendon was chosen.
The cameras have been there since the beginning, since the first interviews, where I came off as fragile and closed off - not that appealing to the audience, to the people of Panem who were watching. The only reason I became the favorite was because of Brendon: sweet, honest, caring Brendon - the boy whose smile makes the audience aw. The boy who confessed that he’s been in love with me for years.
I don’t know if the shock from Brendon’s words have worn off yet, even though I played along. “Star-crossed lovers is a smart role to play,” Mikey had said before I went into the arena, and now I know just how right he was. If it wasn’t for Brendon’s honest devotion in the arena, I might not be here now. While the other Tributes were killing each other off - because there can only be one winner, one boy or girl left standing out of twenty-four - Brendon did everything he could to keep me safe.
And me?
I played along. I let Brendon kiss me, let his full lips mold to my own. I surrendered to him - my one chance of survival, but it was all for the Games. Even though every time Brendon’s skin met mine I could almost forget about the blood bath I was one step away from, it was all still part of the Games, filmed for the entertainment of the masses who feed off of blood.
It was because of the role -because of the way that Brendon held me tight, because of the way that I couldn’t help but smooth down his hair when he had an hour or two of fretful sleep - that the unprecedented decree was passed. Never before have the Gamemakers allowed more than one Victor before. There was always only one winner, and though I had known that as I had nursed Brendon back from a stab wound from the girl from District Seven, I hadn’t let myself think of it.
I wasn’t about to let Brendon die.
But with the decree, the rules had changed - letting a District win - giving Brendon and me a chance of surviving. Together.
I was overjoyed when I had heard that, but I should have known that the Gamemakers could manipulate better than anyone. When the one-Victor rule was reinstated, I knew that there was no way that I could live without Brendon or he could live without me.
“We’ll die together,” I had said, holding the poisoned berries up to him, kissing him one last time. But death hadn’t come - after all, Panem needed a victor. Better to have two than none, right?
“The president isn’t happy about your stunt,” Mikey continues to whisper. “You made him look weak. You need to be very careful.”
His words are desperate, because Mikey knows the worst of what those in power will do to people who threaten them. I can’t help but think of Mikey’s lover - Pete - whose mind is jumbled and chaotic: a souvenir from his extended captivity by the Capitol.
“No matter what you do, you need to make everyone believe that you were so desperately in love with Brendon that you couldn’t bear the thought of life without him,” Mikey says.
“Does Brendon know?” I ask quietly.
Mikey shakes his head against my arm. “He’s already there. It isn’t a game for him.”
The thing is - I don’t know if it is still a game for me. I don’t know if it ever was.
If you’ve read the books, you’ll notice that I played with it a little. I can do that, it’s fanfiction :D
So let me know if you’d be interested in reading a Hunger Games AU/ if you’d be willing to be support staff/ if you’d be willing to co-write.
Thanks!
Mikey’s arm that is clasped around me is tight. To those who are watching - to the cameras, it looks like it’s just a hug. Looks like he’s so happy that his Tribute - that both of his Tributes - are alive and well, but I know differently from how tight his hold is.
“Keep smiling,” he whispers roughly into my ear, as if to remind me that the cameras are broadcasting my face all over Panem - as if I could ever forget that. The cameras have been following me for the past week in the arena, watching my every move. They were there as I was chosen, too - as I took Spencer’s place as a Tribute for the Games. As Brendon was chosen.
The cameras have been there since the beginning, since the first interviews, where I came off as fragile and closed off - not that appealing to the audience, to the people of Panem who were watching. The only reason I became the favorite was because of Brendon: sweet, honest, caring Brendon - the boy whose smile makes the audience aw. The boy who confessed that he’s been in love with me for years.
I don’t know if the shock from Brendon’s words have worn off yet, even though I played along. “Star-crossed lovers is a smart role to play,” Mikey had said before I went into the arena, and now I know just how right he was. If it wasn’t for Brendon’s honest devotion in the arena, I might not be here now. While the other Tributes were killing each other off - because there can only be one winner, one boy or girl left standing out of twenty-four - Brendon did everything he could to keep me safe.
And me?
I played along. I let Brendon kiss me, let his full lips mold to my own. I surrendered to him - my one chance of survival, but it was all for the Games. Even though every time Brendon’s skin met mine I could almost forget about the blood bath I was one step away from, it was all still part of the Games, filmed for the entertainment of the masses who feed off of blood.
It was because of the role -because of the way that Brendon held me tight, because of the way that I couldn’t help but smooth down his hair when he had an hour or two of fretful sleep - that the unprecedented decree was passed. Never before have the Gamemakers allowed more than one Victor before. There was always only one winner, and though I had known that as I had nursed Brendon back from a stab wound from the girl from District Seven, I hadn’t let myself think of it.
I wasn’t about to let Brendon die.
But with the decree, the rules had changed - letting a District win - giving Brendon and me a chance of surviving. Together.
I was overjoyed when I had heard that, but I should have known that the Gamemakers could manipulate better than anyone. When the one-Victor rule was reinstated, I knew that there was no way that I could live without Brendon or he could live without me.
“We’ll die together,” I had said, holding the poisoned berries up to him, kissing him one last time. But death hadn’t come - after all, Panem needed a victor. Better to have two than none, right?
“The president isn’t happy about your stunt,” Mikey continues to whisper. “You made him look weak. You need to be very careful.”
His words are desperate, because Mikey knows the worst of what those in power will do to people who threaten them. I can’t help but think of Mikey’s lover - Pete - whose mind is jumbled and chaotic: a souvenir from his extended captivity by the Capitol.
“No matter what you do, you need to make everyone believe that you were so desperately in love with Brendon that you couldn’t bear the thought of life without him,” Mikey says.
“Does Brendon know?” I ask quietly.
Mikey shakes his head against my arm. “He’s already there. It isn’t a game for him.”
The thing is - I don’t know if it is still a game for me. I don’t know if it ever was.