Ok hi dere! Um... I've decided to be awesome in the weirdest way! Opposite of the norm, because I'm me and since when do I follow the rules of society, I'm going to post reaping scenes in order of first submitted. So, as soon as you submit someone, I will try to write their reaping and post it! :) THANK YOU PSHYCHOLUNA! I'm really sorry, I meant to say that was you last chapter, by its 2 am... Forgive me... If I get your character, ir anyone's for that matter, wrong, don't hesitate to let me know! I don't bite, I promise! Here goes nothing:

District 7- Female Reaping

I woke up at the crack of dawn and threw on whatever comfortable clothes were closest to me, grey slacks tucked into dark boots and white tank top. I quickly braided my dark hair, exposing my slightly tanned skin, and sprinkling of freckles. Bael, my older brother, says it "accentuates my vivid green eyes that spark when I'm ready to fight." He was already up and getting ready for work. I ws about to head out the door, but he stopped me, as he did every day, "Cyme. Breakfast first." "But Bael!" I protested stubbornly, and admittedly a bit whiny, as I also did every day. Being stubborn and head strong, I never gave in without a fight. Being older and even more so stubborn and head strong, Bael always won. I reluctantly grabbed a tiny quarter loaf of bread without butter. I gave Bael a glare, just to make it clear I was not happy about it.

I proceeded to my usual next thing of the day, not even registering the fact that it was Reaping day. I crept to a rich persons house near the middle of town. See, my "hobby" is stealing from people to give to the poor. Or myself. I guess I could be included in "the poor." At 5' 6" or so, its easy for me to slip in and out of houses.

It all started when Dad passed away. I don't remember anything about it, except for when I realized the Bael was starting to work. Arguments ensued about my working versus going to school. Bael won, and I have to go to school. But its useless. So I decided to take hold of my own life and make it fulfilling. After an attack by a mugger, I decided to steal a little here and there, as well. It became a hobby, but more into a profession; I chose my targets carefully and took what they didn't need anymore. Selling the goods or bringing it to the table, I made sure there was food on that dinner table every night. Mom didn't know, but Bael did. He tried to stop me, but it's the only argument I've ever won against him. Fast forward three years, and here you are.

I'm seventeen and stealing something from someone's house. I vaguely recognize it being Reaping day, but I don't care. I listen to the speech and video as I do my work. But I am not truly listening until the lady in charge says a name that wakes me up, "Ruta..." I don't have to hear her say my friend's last name to jump up.

No. My little Ruta, only 14. She can't be tribute. I won't let her. Before I can think through what I'm doing, my emotions overthrow my actions. I run out of the house and into the square, shouting as loud as I can, screaming until my throat hurts, "I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE! DON'T TAKE HER, I VOLUNTEER!" I dash onto the stage, as Ruta begins to wail for me to take it back. Our Reaping lady, who I never cared about enough to learn her name, is surprised. She asks my name.

"Cyme. Cyme Samara." I am out of breath, and sound hoarse. I don't pay attention to the male tribute at all. There's time for that later. Now, I need to say goodbye. Possibly forever.

I am escourted into a bright green room, where Bael, Mom, and Ruta come in. Ruta immediately throws her arms around me, gripping me in a tight hug. She pulls away just long enough to press a small gold hairpin into my hand. "A token." She sobs, "To keep you safe. Thank you." I give her a big hug, the turn to Bael.

"Idiot." He mutters as I hug him closely, "Never thinking through things."

I barely have time to say goodbye to Mom, when peacekeepers are dragging them out. "You have to win, Cyme. You will-" Bael says calmly, the rest of his sentence cut off with the slam of the doors. But I still refuse to cry. It's just not in my stubborn nature.

So... Um... Yeah. Now. I'm gonna go in order. Too hard without knowing the other tributes. But here's a sample. So id suggest everyone starts submitting so I can get this done asap!