A/N: So I rewrote this chapter about . . . three times, I guess? Still not that satisfied with the end result, but whatever. First off, sorry for the late update: I've been down with a bad case of sleep deprivation and dehydration (both of which aren't healthy for my age), so writing has been difficult. But after countless nights of no sleep and an infinite supply of canned coffee, here is the end result.

And the Reapings will be done chronologically, btw. Sorry for anyone hoping to see it in random order.

Thanks for the reviews, all of you are too awesome; anyways, I hope you enjoy reading about these Tributes as much as I enjoyed writing about them.

Oh, and since I wanted to put this up as soon as I finished, I didn't get a chance to read through, so feel free to point out typos.

I would like to thank aijalontheman2012 and Emmeline C. Thornebrooke for these epic Tributes!

District One: Secrets

Takei Glow, 15, Male

Rosemarie Celeste Thomas, 18, Female

Life Before the Reaping

Takei Glow, 15

The day was starting to age: the sun already disappearing behind the wisps of white, as the sky turned from a violent shade of red to a more calm shade of lavender.

Exhaust from the nearby factories escaped into the air, the grey streaks infiltrating the light colors of the sky, as day slowly transitioned into night, currently dawdling on evening.

The boys appeared out of nowhere, hiding behind a wall of building supplies. There were two of them, one with brown hair and the other with black. The brown-haired boy gestured to the black-haired one and they quickly sprinted forward into the open field of dirt and asphalt.

District One: home of luxuries, was not as luxurious as most people perceived it to be. Although it was situated near the Capitol, and was undoubtedly one of its closest associates, it was still one of the Districts of Panem, thus being in a poorer state than it should've been.

Factories dotted the skyline that was customarily pierced by considerably tall splinters of glass and steel; not near as elegant or graceful as the Capitol, of course, but enough to make the rest of the Districts seem like slums – which, in a sense, they were.

Most of the District was occupied by either factories or residential areas – seldom enough space for recreation, or whatever passed for it in the Districts. The back lots of abandoned factories were always hotspots for teenager activity. Since most of the younger population of One were immersed within training for the Games, the moments they did spare for sanctuary were made sure to be worthwhile.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" the brown-haired boy asked his counterpart, as the two sat hunched behind a pile of bricks.

"It always does," fifteen-year-old raven-haired Takei Glow replied. "Chill, Gander. We got this."

The brown-haired fourteen-year-old Gander looked warily at his best friend before a wide grin spread across his face. "Fair point. But – look, there they are!"

The two boys' attentions snapped from each other, as Gander gestured to the scene that had begun unfolding in front of them.

The girl appeared first, her blonde hair flying behind her and her mouth open in laugh, as she dashed across the asphalt. The red-haired boy followed her, the two meeting at a pile of work supplies. Gander and Takei watched as the couple gave the area a quick once-over, before enveloping themselves in one another, literally.

"Gosh, do they have to be so graphic?" Takei involuntarily mused as he watched the couple giggle and squirm while kissing furiously, only to be promptly silenced by Gander.

"Shut up," he said. "Get ready to strike in: three – two – one – "

The two boys simultaneously reached down to pick up their ammo, before swiftly chucking them over the wall of bricks.

SPLAT!

A symphony of staggered shouts escaped the couple, as two large water balloons collided with their bodies. They barely had time to break apart before they were assaulted by two more. Again. And again.

Their looks of shock as they examined their now drenched clothing proved to be amusing for the Takei and Gander, the two of which were currently rolling in raucous laughter behind the wall of bricks.

"Oh, my god . . . th- their f – faces," Takei managed out between laughs as he hunched over, trying to ease his breathing.

"You'd think after being hit four times in the same location, they'd get a hint," Gander spluttered out, not even attempting to hold back his guffaws.

That was when a revelation dawned upon Takei. "Oh, shoot; we shouldn't made so much sou – "

He never had time to complete his sentence because within several moments, the couple had turned towards the general location of the sounds, and the boys had ceased laughing long enough to hear a bellowed statement:

"That's it; you lil' punks are dead!"

They barely had time to clear themselves before a fist came smashing through the bricks, revealing two very crimson faces of two very pissed-off teenagers.

Only one look was exchanged between Takei and Gander, and years of friendship and experience permitted them to say the unspoken word they had become so accustomed to sharing after their pranks:

Run.

Their sneakers pounded against asphalt, as they sprinted away from the drenched-and-now-pursuing couple, who were currently roaring threats and obscenities at the two boys. From years of living in the labyrinth that was District One, Takei and Gander easily navigated through the various alleyways and routes, careful not to run into pretentiously-dressed citizens.

"Do you think we lo – ow!" Takei came to an abrupt stop, as he collided head on with the people he was so meticulously attempting to avoid.

The girl recouped quicker than he did, and Takei only caught a glimpse of her hooded grey eyes and dirt-caked red hair, before she ran past him, oblivious to his situation.

"Dude, come on!" The voice of Gander echoed through the alleyway, causing Takei to snap back to reality – in which he was currently being pursued by two teenagers out for his blood.

The two ran for what seemed like miles, before they finally came to a halt, a bit from District One's wealthy homes, the place where Takei resided.

"I think we f – finally l – lost them," Gander said, his breath coming in short gasps. The two slumped to the ground without a second thought, the darkness already settling around them.

"No . . . shit . . . " Takei replied, too tired to care about his use of profanity; his best friend cracked a weak smile.

"Well, at least that was fun," Gander told him. "Same time, next week?"

A fire lit in Takei's golden-brown eyes. "You're on."

The two best friends sat there, their backs against the grey walls that were common within the architecture of District One. Takei turned his head slightly to look at his best friend.

The best friend he grew up with, the best friend he trusted with his entire being.

The best friend he didn't regret falling in love with.

Life Before the Reaping

Rosemarie Celeste Thomas, 18

She was a shadow in the night; her moving figure scrupulously hidden as she darted in out of the sight of the Peacekeepers.

Her breathing was shallow, and her face was covered; there was no way she'd let them find her, not tonight. Not any other night, for that matter.

But even as she sat stooped behind the wall, there was a subconscious thought that darted through eighteen-year-old Rosemarie Thomas's head, as she watched the beams of light from the Peacekeepers' torches travel over the dark street. She knew better than to run out in the path of them – that would guarantee her capture, which would most certainly not help her case.

However, years of living like this – in constant fear and paranoia – had taken its toll. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her black dagger; if she risked being caught at the dead of night by the Peacekeepers – who had already become familiarized with her face and habits – then she was in for trouble. More trouble she had already gotten herself into.

She lingered in the shadows, which were like a second home to her, watching as they milled around the street before their attention was diverted by a stray child, who so miraculously had found his or her way into a deserted street in the dead of night.

That was it; this was her pristine chance.

Rosemarie shot off into the darkness, not giving a second thought to the sudden shouts of the Peacekeepers. The only thought she had on her mind was to get as far away as she could from them. And fast.

By the time she reached a safe distance, they had already given up their pursuit; a good thing, too, it was common knowledge not to mess with the Lady of Shadows.

Her home – if what she lived in even passed for one – was among the trash cans, garbage piles, and discarded materials on the poorer end of District One. In truth, Rosemarie didn't have a real home; nor was she willing to find one, but whatever she had right would suffice.

She came to a halt in front of a wall of barbed fire; she shot a quick and furtive glance around, looking for any bystanders or worse, more Peackeepers; after assuring herself she was alone, she grit her teeth, shoved her fingers into the spaces between the wire, and forced herself up.

Rosemarie nearly landed on a sleeping child that lay on the other side of the wire. She watched as the dirt-caked and emaciated child – who couldn't have been more than four or five – squirmed at the sudden disturbance. A part of her wanted to lean down and comfort the poor soul, while another wanted to withdraw her dagger, and make good use of it.

She shook her head, and her wavy red hair swayed slightly; Rosemarie could almost smell the dirt that was embedded within it. The darkness may have been her second home, but that for the Lady of Shadows, not her.

Her fingers quickly undid the hastily created lock that kept her "home" safe and secret from the lurking Peacekeepers. This time her "home" was an abandoned warehouse; after her last one went up in flames, it was only in fruitful pursuit did she come upon this one.

A sigh of relief escaped her as she was welcomed by the habitual stench of aging paint, rotting wood, and decaying insects. The room was dark – as expected – but the figure standing in the middle of it was unmistakable.

Before she could string together a coherent train of thought, Rosemarie ran forward and enveloped herself into the figure's arms, the relief in her voice evident. The figure was momentarily surprised before reciprocating the action with equal vigor.

"Sombra," her boyfriend of three years, Ollie Gabriel, whispered into her hair. "You made it."

"I almost didn't," was the muffled reply. "They nearly caught me."

They detached themselves from each other before locking eyes; dark brown meeting grey. "I should've waited for you," Ollie muttered. "I shouldn't have gone ahead when you told me to; I should've stayed and gone back with you."

"Then they would've caught you, too."

"It'd have been worth it."

"No," Rosemarie responded. "That would've made things worse, besides, it's the past now; I'm alive, you're alive. No big deal, right?"

And just like that all the relief, worry, and trepidation melted from Rosemarie's face, and something glinted in her eyes. Something dark.

"Sombra," Ollie gently reprimanded her. Shadow. "You're doing it, again."

"Doing what?" she asked off-handedly. "Anyways, you look beat, Ollie. You should get some sleep."

"And what about you?"

"I'll be there in a second."

The olive-skinned Ollie shook his chin-length shaggy black hair, before sighing and turning around. Rosemarie watched the love of her life make his way out of the empty room, and into the darkness.

If only he knew . . .

She sighed, and tucked her hands into her pockets. A part of her wished she had told him, right there and then, but with the Reapings coming up . . .

Rosemarie caught sight of herself in one of the broken mirrors that lined the peeling walls. All five six of her, complete with dirt-caked braided red hair, hooded grey eyes, and weary composure.

She locked eyes with herself, and felt her something within her flicker. Within moments the image in front of her had changed; instead of Rosemarie, there now stood another girl, much like her, though very different. This one had the same red hair although it was considerably cleaner, and more neatly braided; her grey eyes were large and alert, standing out on her fair skin. This girl was dressed in dark garb, with a black dagger swinging from her waist. It was evident within her poise that she was more confident than Rosemarie, and the glint in her eyes signified her self-dominance.

The girl that stood in front of her wasn't just a lady in the shadows, but she was a killer; one with no mercy, and one that lived within Rosemarie.

"They'll never catch you."

But they almost always did.

The Reaping

Takei Glow, 15

Reaping Day was one of a celebration in District One. Masses of eager teenagers milled around the Town Square, where towering buildings and the grey factories that produce the Capitol's finest goods stretched as far as the eye could see. Hordes and hordes of people were lined up, checking in with their Peacekeepers, and walking into their age group-classified areas.

Young and meager twelve-year-olds, who were at their first Reaping, stood idly, hands sweating from anxiety and throats dry from uneasiness, as they soundlessly prepared for what may be the last time they see their families.

Eager, bloodthirsty eighteen-year-olds, who had been prepared for their entire lives, roared, cheered, and commuted with their fellow candidates, already hungering for blood as they waited for the drawing of the names. Desperate parents attempted to reassure several broken candidates, kissing and hugging their young like it was their last day with them – which, in a sense, it could've been.

Takei Glow stood in the fifteen-year-olds section, his raven-haired head lost in the sea of blonde, brown, and red. He was apprehensive, which was to be expected, as he awkwardly maintained his poise; it had only been ten minutes since he and Gander had parted, but it was enough for Takei to start regretting whatever had gone unspoken. A part of him wanted to tell him, to confess his feelings, while another wanted him to keep quiet, as to not ruin their friendship; he knew the former was the rational solution, but right now, he wasn't sure if it was the right one.

". . . and let it be known how grateful we are by offering new blood for a new age." Takei had snapped from his trance long enough to hear District One's mayor conclude his customary speech before handing the mike over to this year's escort, Opal Pedzotti.

Pink-haired and ebony-skinned Opal hobbled her to the microphone in her four-inch violet heels. Takei held back a grimace at the sight of her attire: an array of feathery garments stitched together on a glitter bodice to give her the impression of a luminescent peacock. How the people in the Capitol found this attractive, Takei could not understand nor comprehend.

There were several catcalls and wolf whistles at the sight of Opal's obviously artificial curves. However the sight of her attempting to adjust her pink wig whilst balancing on her heels garnered much more laughter. Perhaps if you weren't such snappy dressers, Takei mused, people would take you seriously.

"District One!" Opal finally crooned into the mike, her silver lips spread in a grotesque smile. "It's been too long!"

"But not long enough!" came a random cry from the crowd. More laughter and Opal's cheery demeanor nearly faltered.

"Anyhow, I bet you're all exci – "

"Get it over with, twinkle-toes!" This statement was met with both laughter and shouts of approval. Takei bit back a smile at the sight of Opal's obvious frustration.

"Fine!" she finally spat. "I guess there's no need for formalities this year, like any of you'd enjoy them. As always, ladies first."

Opal made her way to the colossal glass bowl that was filled to the brim with white slips. Takei sucked in his breath as he watched her plunge her hand into its depths, already praying for the poor soul would have to suffer a mild heart attack before someone volunteered.

Opal withdrew her hand, a slip triumphantly clutched in her perfectly-manicured nails. She cleared her throat, unfolded it, and began to read the name out.

"Mercedes Horo – "

"I VOLUNTEER!"

As expected.

Takei sighed as he watched a red-haired female detach herself from the eighteen-year-olds group and bound her way to the stage. With a shock, he realized this was the girl who he had run into the other day – which now seemed like eternities ago.

Her name was long – too long, in Takei's opinion; she seemed like one of those cruel and sadistic female Careers. He knew that she would make it far in the Games. He was prepared for it.

What he wasn't prepared for was when Opal picked out the male Tribute's name, and it was one he had heard too many times, too often.

The Reaping

Rosemarie Celeste Thomas, 18

It wasn't often Rosemarie was nervous; usually she was confident in everything and anything. But as she made her way through the hordes of eighteen-year-old, a small jolt of worry ran through her; what if her plan didn't work? Would she be signing her own death sentence? What would Ollie think of this?

She shook her head trying to get these pessimistic thoughts out. She was the Lady of Shadows, she could anything, and this was certainly one of them.

So when the atrociously dressed escort read out the female's name, she took a long breath, and did what she had to do.

"I VOLUNTEER!"

Rosemarie's voice echoed through the square, loud and clear. The District escort's dyed eyebrows shot up; it was often people volunteered, but not just as the name was read out.

"Well," she said, her cheery voice already bordering on boredom. "Come on up, then, dear."

As she bounded through the crowd, she was the target of several scowls and disdainful expressions of those who had wanted to volunteer. She shot them a dark look: your problem, not mine.

"What's your name, then?" Opal inquired to her as she finally came to a halt on the stage.

"Rosemarie Celeste Thomas," was the clear and concise answer. No exuberant promises of victory. No tears of sorrow. There was mild cheering at this.

Her eyes scanned the crowd and Rosemarie caught the eye of Ollie, whose face was wearing a look of utter shock. She swallowed deeply, knowing that he hadn't expected this. Well, neither had she.

She also caught the eye of someone else, two of them to be exact. The last time she had saw either of parents had been over seven years ago, when she had ran away from them. They looked just as they had before, except stunned at both the sight of her and her volunteering.

"And now for the boys." Opal looked tired as she sunk her hand into the second Reaping ball; she rummaged around for a while before finally settling on a slip.

She repeated what she had done with the female Tribute.: clearing of throat, dramatic unfolding of paper, reading of name.

"Takei Glow!"

There was a silence in the crowd, as if waiting for the usual shouting of "I volunteer!", however, this time there was nothing but absolute silence.

Rosemarie's eyes traveled over the crowd, finally coming to a halt at the sight of a boy with short black hair and full, round cheeks. He was firmly rooted in his spot, his eyes wide, and it was evident he had been scared stiff.

"TAKEI!" a scream ran through the square and Rosemarie saw a boy with short brown hair in the fourteen-year-olds section screaming hysterically. "NO!"

So petty, she inwardly smirked. He thinks he can save his friend; let's see what happens when I stand over his dead body.

"Takei Glow, if you would," Opal sighed edgily, gesturing to the stage. Rosemarie observed as the boy tacitly made his way up front. He was slim yet well-toned; it was apparent he hadn't expected this for his golden brown eyes were wide in horror.

"Any words, young man?" she asked the boy. There was no answer from him, for he was still horror-struck, his vision firmly planted on his sneakers.

"Ah, well," Opal regained herself before turning back to the crowd. "Tributes: shake hands."

Rosemarie turned to the boy: he was taller than her, though she could tell he was much weaker than she was. She nearly simpered when her firm hand clasped his clammily sweaty one.

"District One, I give you this year's Tributes: Takei Glow and Rosemarie Celeste Thomas!"

The crowd roared in approval.

The Justice Building

Takei Glow, 15

The moment the door opened, Takei was enveloped in his parents' arms.

"Oh, my baby," Glamour Glow whispered into his hair, as she plastered his forehead with kisses, her tears streaming like waterfalls. "Oh, my poor, poor baby."

"I can't believe this," his father, Terrence, said as he hugged him next. "I can't believe that – that you, and – and no volunteers and – "

"I'm going to miss you guys," Takei managed through his haze of emotions. "So much."

His mother's tears wet the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't mind; right now, he just needed them, and them only.

And then he remembered Gander.

He locked eyes with his best friend, the friend he cared about deeper than anyone knew. He needed to tell him, he had to.

"I love you," he spluttered out as he wrapped his arms around him. "Oh, god . . ."

Takei wasn't sure if Gander had interpreted his confession the way he had wanted to, but all he knew was the Gander was in his arms and they were together for what could've been the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning.

The Justice Building

Rosemarie Celeste Thomas, 18

"What were you thinking?" Ollie exclaimed as he walked into the room. "You didn't tell me you were going to volunteer! You could get killed out there!"

"But I won't," Rosemarie quietly replied. "I won't get killed, I will kill."

"Is there a difference?" Ollie's voice was weary and hoarse. "Sombra, both of us have lost too much; now I can't lose you, too."

"You won't. I'm going to fight the hardest to get home; I know I have the skills." Her voice was quiet but determined, like she volunteered for death-defying games in her free time. What she didn't let on was she wasn't determined, in truth, she was shaken. The Lady of Shadows could win the Games, but could Rosemarie?

Ollie looked at her, as if he wanted to say something, anything. Instead he swallowed, hugged her fiercely, and kissed her, hard. Rosemarie reciprocated, and she leaned her forehead against his.

"I can do this," she whispered. "I will win."

"I know you will," Ollie replied. "I love you, but I need you come back to me, okay?"

She nodded, or tried to. There was still a nagging thought in the back of her head. Tell him, the voice pressed. Tell him.

"Hey, Ollie," Rosemarie said, just as a Peacekeeper barged into the room, telling him that it was time to leave.

"Yeah, sombra?" he asked, as he slowly made his way to the door.

Tell him.

No.

TELL HIM.

No.

You have to tell him.

Or what?

You might die.

"Nothing," she intoned. "I love you, okay? I know what I'm doing."

He gave her a grim smile. "I hope you do."

The door shut with finality, and Rosemarie was left alone in the silence.

Her fingers lightly grazed the fabric of her shirt. She should have told him, she needed to.

But she hadn't.

Slowly stroking the velvet of the worn couch, Rosemarie made a silent promise to herself, trying not to let her wretched emotions get the best of her.

She would not only win the Games for herself, the Lady of Shadows, but for Ollie.

And their child.

A/N: Well, this was a monster of a chapter, almost 4k words *insert le shocked face here* It took over a week to produce this, so I hope you take a minute to leave feedback. So, what did you think of the writing? The Tributes? I personally really like both of them, because they're so multifaceted. Or will be. Anyways.

To the authors of these Tributes: I'd love to hear what you thought about my portrayal of them. Did I keep them faithful to your source material or . . . ?

District Two should be up sooner than this, because I've never written Reapings before, and I probably sucked, but whatevs.

Don't forget to leave a review! They make my day better and motivate this poor soul. Plus, *insert le shameless self-plug* I recently got a Tumblr and I'd love it if you dropped by and checked out my stuff. Find me at beyond-insanitastic. ;)

Until next time, awesome ones:

Peace, Love, and Nutella!

xx, cuteypuffgirl