A/N

Hi!

So this is chapter 7. (Completely ignore my first authors note when I said that I thought that this thing would be 10 chapters long. At this rate, I'm guessing 30. Haha.) I think by now, I can confidently tell you that the entering of the arena will be in chapters 10, 11, or 12; so we're almost there! One more thing that's worth mentioning is: I'm sorry for the late updates. I know I took a break from this to write a one-shot, but I promise you that abandoning this story haven't even, and never will, crossed my mind yet. So I will try harder to update faster.

Now for warnings. Oh God, I don't even know where to start. Um…nudity, swearing, anti-gay stylist (just to clear things up, we don't agree with her, we have nothing against gays, we just thought that it would fit the District), gay acts, gender confusion, cross-dressing, implied cross-dressing, and 'um…yeahs' (trust me, you'll understand).

Oh! Just one more quick thing. In order for most of District 2's dialogue to make sense, you have to read it out loud with a Southern Valley Girl accent. Ok, I don't want to know how many people ran away…

On the night of the parade around the Capital Circle, the tributes first had to be waxed, trimmed, and shown their outfits.

"Ok, everyone," said Effie, "before we begin showing you your hotel rooms, we have to tour you around the Capital Circle in a parade to introduce you to the Capital citizens and the President."

Everyone groaned.

"We're also going to introduce you to your prep team!"

Haymitch, who was only slightly drunk at the moment, chose to remind Effie that… "Hey, sweetheart! You forgot to mention that there is no prep team…or any decent stylists for that matter, due to 'budget cuts.'"

"Oh, um…yeah. Sorry about that, so I guess you'll be meeting your stylists. By the way, we don't actually know how good most of these stylists are, considering we just hired the first eleven people who signed up…yeah we're paying them very, very little, which is kind of why most of the other stylists quit. So, yeah, we'll just see how this all turns out."

District 1 P.O.V:

"Ello! I am a-Mac and I will be you're a-stylist for le Hunger Games!" said a short man in an overly exaggerated Italian accent.

Craig decided to point this fact out. "Jeez, can you get any more stereotypical?" he muttered.

"a-What was a-that?" Mac said in a voice that said he had clearly heard what he said.

"Nothing." He responded quickly.

"Anyway, I need you to a-both strip naked behind your sides of the a-barrier-"

"What?" said Wendy, who had only been partially listening up until that point. "Why would you want us to do that? If you're some sort of child molester or something, don't think I won't call the police on you!"

"Oh, no a-miss! A designer is like an artist- and we must each study our canvass before beginning our masterpieces. I already have an idea for one of you, but we must first make sure it a-works!" He responded with complete seriousness.

"Oh, well, OK. I guess I can understand that way of thinking." She responded, while stripping down to nothing, as Craig had done while Mac was explaining himself.

Mac took the next few moments looking at Wendy, smiling in possibly the least creepy way someone could while looking at a naked lady. "Marvelous! A-Simply marvelous! I do not have to do a theeng to a-enhance you're a-natural beauty! You know a-a what, wear whatever you a-want, I guarantee you will a-look stunning!"

He then turned to Craig, who was smirking. "Meh, I have my a-work cut out for me."

The smirk fell.

"Luckily," Mac continued, "I already have an idea for a-you. Miss, have you an idea for what you shall a-wear?"

"Um, could you make me a gold dress? Nothing too fancy, but I really do love the color…"

Mac's eyes grew. "Yes! Yes, that's a-perfect! I have a-even gained the final a-bit of inspiration for your teammate's outfit!"

"Oh, God…" moaned Craig.

"A solid gold-"

He facepalmed.

"Diamond studded-"

He peaked at Mac through his fingers.

"Speedo."

Craig groaned- a groan normally used by those who were close to death.

"Come, come! We must get you a-fitted!" said Mac, dragging him past Wendy, still naked.

Wendy stood in the place she was left, silently laughing at her teammate's pain.

District 2 POV:

Both Cartman and Bebe were staring, open-mouthed, at their stylist.

"So, like, ok." L'oreal, their designer, began. "I can, like, make you wear whatever I want, ok? So, ok, ok, ok, we're going to have words printed in white on black shirts, ok. So, ok, now, all I have to do is decide on the words to use. Ok, so, ok, I can do this… ok, so, like, last night, I ate some chips, ok? And, like what did I do with the chips? Um, ok, I ate them. No, ok, that totally doesn't work. Um, ok, I also dipped them in salsa. Dip! Ok, guys, what do you think?"

The blank stares continued…

"Awesome! Ok, so, that's one word. Ok, ok, ok, um, so before I came down here, ok, I was on the toilet, ok? And I, like, pooped, ok? And, ok, ok, it smelled really bad, ok? It smelled like shit, ok? Shit! Ok, that's totally the other word that's going to be printed on your shirts, ok!"

…And continued…

"Ok, oh my God, you guys! Ok, like, ok. You guys should totally make out, ok?"

…And continued…until Bebe abruptly snapped out of it "WHAT? Why?"

"Because I, like, like it when people make out, ok? Ok, and I, like, think other people do, too, ok?"

Bebe was about to protest vehemently, but Cartman cut her off. "Will it help us win?"

"I, like, don't know, ok? Ok, but it might, ok?"

Cartman looked to Bebe and said, "Eh, sure, why not?"

Bebe sighed. "Ok." She agreed, then cringed at her use of the over used word.

"Ok, I just got another idea, ok? Ok, you guys should, like, also wear lime green pants, ok? Because I, like, like that color."

…And thus, the blank stares, once again, continued…

Cartman who wanted to briefly get away from the ok-fest, looked out the window. What he saw there was abnormal to say the least, but he smiled and simply muttered, 'Oh, the blackmail.' Before running out of the room to get his camera. Not unexpectedly, L'oreal didn't notice, even when Bebe left after him to drag him back.

District 3 P.O.V:

"So, Pip…it seems that it's always the nice ones who throw their cats off the roof."

"Chap, it was an accident, I told you that already."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say."

"Ok, it wasn't completely an accident; I wanted to see if he could fly!"

Damien facepalmed.

Just then, their stylist walked in. "Hey guys, I'm Victoria!"

"Hey."

"Ello there, ma'am!"

Victoria looked over at Pip. "Aww, you're the prettiest little girl I've ever seen! So cute!"

"Um…what?"

Damien sighed. "He's obviously a guy, I mean he has an…um…yeah..."

Pip raised an eyebrow, "What exactly is an 'um yeah'?"

"It's, you know…an…um…yeah..."

Pip looked down. "You mean my penis?"

"Um…yeah!"

"Aren't you a little old to be calling it an 'um yeah'."

"NO! THE SON OF SATAN DOESN'T HAVE TO SAY THAT WORD!"

"Ok, ok, sorry chap."

Victoria, who was annoyed by their non-stop talking, began to speak. "Hey! Listen guys, alright…you are going to be dressed in white, because you look evil."

Damien groaned.

" And you…" she looked over at Pip, "are going to wear black, because you look nice."

"Ok ma'am!"

"Now, the problem is…what exactly are you two going to wear?"

Pip and Damien nervously glanced at each other while their stylist was thinking.

"I've got it!" Victoria turned to Damien. "Alright, you are going to wear a white tux."

" Damn. Do I have to?"

"YES!" She then turned to Pip. "And you are going to wear a black dress. Like, not a normal one, but one based on the punk Lolita Fashion."

"What is the punk Lolita Fashion?"

Victoria walked over to Pip, holding out a picture. Pip then took the picture, looked at it, and sighed.

"Oh, dear…"

District 4 P.O.V:

"OK! I'M SERGEANT REVLON! I'VE BEEN A DRILL SERGEANT FOR THE PAST 20 YEARS, BUT NOW I'M GIVING THAT UP TO FOLLOW MY DREAM: BECOMING A STYLIST!"

Revlon than walked up to Kyle.

"DO YOU WANT ME TO GIVE UP MY DREAM?"

"Sir, no, sir!"

"GOOD, THAN YOU'RE GOING WEAR WHATEVER I TELL YOU!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"GOOD! NOW IT'S TIME FOR ROLL CALL! SOLDIER STAN!"

"Here!"

"SOLDIER KYLE!"

"Um…here"

"DID YOU JUST BACKSAS ME!"

"No sir!"

"GOOD! SOLDIER MAGS!"

She responded with something that sounded like "fruitcake."

"SOLDIER ANNIE!"

"Ah! Oh my God! What are you talking about? I'M HERE! I'M HERE!"

Finnick began to laugh- more at the drill sergeant than at his girlfriend.

"ARE YOU STARTING TO GET FRESH WITH ME SOLDIER?"

"SIR, NO SIR!"

"50 PUSH-UPS, MAGGOT! NOW!"

Finnick dropped down before the drill sergeant could get any further.

"SOLDIER CHEF!"

"Oh, uh, what?"

"WHERE YOU NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO ME? 50 PUSH-UPS!"

"Aw, come on man."

"OH, NOW YOU'RE BACK-TALKING ME? 100 PUSH-UPS!"

Chef, before he could go any further, began doing the push-ups.

"OK! NOW IT'S TIME FOR TRAINING!"

"But…sir…this is supposed to be styling time…"

"I DON'T CARE! YOUR GONNA TRAIN! NOW GO OUTSIDE AND RUN AROUND THAT TREE!"

With that, Chef, Finnick, Annie, and Mags ran outside as fast as they could.

"But, sir, we're naked." Kyle pointed out.

"OH, WELL, THE SISSY CARES IF HIS JUNK IS BLOWING IN THE WIND!"

"Yeah…a little bit."

"WELL, THAN IF YOU DON'T WANT TO RUN AROUND THE TREE, THAN YOU'RE GONNA WEAR A DRESS!"

"I'm not going to run around a tree, it's pointless and stupid!"

"AWW…THE SISSY DOESN'T WANT TO TRAIN! WELL GUESS WHAT? FOR THE PARADE TONIGHT, YOU'RE GOING TO WEAR A DRESS! AND NOT A BLACK, BLUE, OR PURPLE DRESS, YOU'RE GOING TO WEAR A PINK DRESS! A PINK, FRILLY DRESS!"

Revlon then turned to Stan. "DO YOU WANT TO WEAR A DRESS TOO?"

"Sir, no sir!" and without another word, Stan ran outside.

"SEE THAT? THERE'S A REAL SOLDIER! NOW GET OUTSIDE AND RUN, BEFORE I MAKE YOU WEAR A BIKINI INSTEAD!"

"Ugh…fine."

District 5 P.O.V:

"Ok, so everyone is here except for...Ms. Crabtree? Is that her name?" Mary-Kay, Timmy and Scott's stylist, asked.

Effie chose then to walk in. "Um…we have little problem."

"What's wrong?" Scott asked.

"TIMMAH?"

"Ms. Crabtree kind of got into an accident…"

"Is she ok?"

"No. She's dead."

"WHAT?"

**FLASHBACK**

"SHUT UP BACK THERE!" She yelled at no one, for Ms. Crabtree was drunk. "Oh, God dammit! You made me miss my train!" Ms. Crabtree looked ahead and saw a cliff. "Oh, how lucky, I found a time portal!" Ms. Crabtree, who was nowhere near sober yet, drove full speed off the cliff. "Capital, here I come!" It was then that the school bus exploded.

**END FLASHBACK**

"Now what are we going to do?" Scott asked.

"Well, we got a new adult from your town."

"TIMMAH?"

"It's…Tuong Lu Kim!"

"Oh no..."

"Hello. Are you enjoying your stay at the Capital Shitty Hotel?"

Effie raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that this is a Holiday Inn Hotel, right?"

"WHAT?"

"Yeah. I'm going to be leaving now. See you later!" Effie said as she left the room.

Then, Mary-Sue walked in. It didn't take her long to notice that her sister was the stylist for her group.

"Oh, Mary-Kay! You're looking as beautiful and cute as ever…but not much as me! Come here, sweetie!" Mary-Sue greeted as she hugged her younger sister.

"Um, thanks. Anyway, we need to think of outfits for you two to wear. Now, first of all, what are your favorite colors?"

"Our favorite colors? How old are we, five?" Scott bitterly asked.

Mary-Kay, who was clearly hurt by the comment, changed the question. "O-k, well what do you usually wear on a special occasion?"

"Oh. A special occasion? The last special occasions I attended were my parent's funerals!"

Her jaw dropped. "Well, if you're going to act this way, I'm going to make the costumes myself!"

Mary-Kay then walked off, with her sister, Gary-Stu, and Tuong Lu Kim following close behind.

"Whatever…" Scott mumbled.

"Timmah…"

District 6 P.O.V:

Jimmy and Gregory were standing in the middle of their makeup room, when a girl that looked about 20 walked in.

"I am Sephora, and I am your stylist. Now. I realize that you two are both guys, and you are both naked and in the same room, so let me make it clear that I will NOT tolerate acts of gayness, got it?" she explained using a threatening tone.

" N-n-no n-need to w-worry Miss, I'm straight!" Jimmy replied.

"Good, how about you, kid?" she asked while looking over at Gregory.

Unfortunately, because Gregory was, at this time, intently looking at a naked Stan and Kyle running around a tree outside of his make-up room window, he didn't hear Sephora's speech.

"What are you looking at?" Sephora asked while walking over to the British boy.

"Oh, nothing…"

"ARE YOU LOOKING AT THOSE TWO NAKED BOYS RUNNING AROUND THAT TREE?"

"N-no don't be ridiculous, ma'am…"

"DON'T YOU LIE TO ME! I'M NOT STUPID! YOU WERE LOOKING AT THEM, WEREN'T YOU?"

"Maybe just a little bit…"

"WHY YOU LITTLE…"

"S-Sephora, m-maybe it's not because he's g-g-g-gay that he's looking at Stan and Kyle, maybe he just finds it h-hu-hu-hum-humorous." Jimmy defended.

Sephora sighed. "Maybe you're right. I guess it is a little funny, but keep this in mind and listen carefully: If I find out that one of you two, or both of you for that matter, are gay," her voice dripped with venom at that word, "then I will make both of your times here hell. Do you understand me?"

Jimmy and Gregory both nodded in agreement.

"Good."

District 7 P.O.V:

"So then, I stuck a stake through the Prime Minister's heart- I mean, how was I supposed to know that he wasn't a vampire?- I've never seen Elton John happier, but Brad Pitt threatened to sue. That is why I am no longer welcome in Romania. The end!"

Kindergoth gave Bradley an odd look. "Seriously kid, what's wrong with you?"

"Well, when I was about 5 weeks old, my mom accidentally dropped me down a flight of stairs." Bradley said with an honest tone.

"That explains so much."

Just then, a pale girl with long blonde hair walked into the room. She then gave a small, nervous smile. "H-Hello there. I'm Dove, and I'll be your stylist."

"Hi Dove! I'm Bradley, and this little fellow here is Kindergoth!"

Kindergoth shot a glare at Bradley. "I have a name, you know!"

"You do?"

Kindergoth facepalmed. "Yes! My name is Georgie!"

"Oh, well, Dove, I guess that his name is Georgie!"

"Hi Georgie."

"Hey."

"Um…so for this parade, I was actually going to have you guys pick what you want to wear…in a way."

"Ok! That sounds great, Dove!" Bradley complemented.

"Oh, um, thank you. Now, um, oh gosh…what are your favorite colors?"

"I like the colors purple and green, because they remind me of minty berries!"

"And the time you…"

"Shhh! Kindergoth! Don't tell her about that story, it'll scare her and she'll run away!"

Kindergoth sighed. "Whatever, conformist."

Dove stared blankly at the two boys. "Um…alright. How about you, Georgie? What are your favorite colors?"

"Black."

"Ok black and what else?"

"Black."

"Yeah, black, and…"

"Black."

Dove was becoming annoyed, a rare occurrence for someone like her. "Yes. I understand that you like black, but what else?"

"Black."

"Fine. Gold, that's your other color! Ok?"

"Whatever, Nazi conformist cheerleader."

"Ok. Good. Now, do you guys want to wear pants or shorts?"

Before Kindergoth could answer, Bradley interrupted him. "Can we wear tights?"

"Are you serious right now?"

Dove, who had just realized how, opposed to the idea Kindergoth was, smiled evilly. "Sure. Tights would be perfect."

District 8 P.O.V:

"Tweek, dude! Calm down!"

"Woof, you too!"

Clyde, Cecilia, and the stylist, Clinique, were currently watching their District's members running around the makeup room, while trying to get them to calm down.

"NO! GAH! HE'S TRYING TO CHOKE AND KILL US! HE'S ONE OF THEIR MINIONS!" Tweek screeched.

"Who's minions? What are you talking about?"

"THE UNDERPANTS GNOMES AND ICECREAM CRAPPING TACO'S MINIONS!" Woof exclaimed.

" Um…I'm sorry to interrupt your shenanigans," Clinique said bitterly, " but I am no one's minions. I just put a necklace on you to see how it would look, and you began to spaz out."

"NO! YOU WERE TRYING TO CHOKE ME!"

"YEAH, YOU WERE TRYING TO…um… SMOKE HIM!"

Clinique rolled his eyes. "My God, you're a difficult child."

"HEY! I'M NOT A CHILD!"

"YEAH! HE'S NOT A…what did you say? Kyle...YEAH HE'S NOT A KYLE!"

"Woof, mind your own business and stop being rude!"

"AH, I DON'T NEED SOME OLD LADY TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!"

"WOOF! I'm not old, I'm only 30. You're the old one! Also, you will behave because if you don't, I'm not going to buy you a coffee!" Cecilia stated sternly.

"WHAT? WHY NOT!"

"Dude, just listen to her. It'll make your life much easier." Clyde cut in.

Woof stuck his tongue out at Clyde.

"NO!"

It was then that the hyper old man truly annoyed Clinique. "Sir, if you don't calm down, I will get security to escort you."

"AW, I'D LIKE TO SEE LITTLE SISSY COPS DRAG ME OUT OF THIS ROOM!"

"Security!"

Then, the hotel's security entered the room and dragged the old man out.

"YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST OF ME, PRETTY BOY!"

Clinique took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and smiled. "Alright, now that we have that problem handled, why don't we continue trying on clothes? Oh, and yes, Tweek, we will avoid the necklaces."

Clyde, for the first time in a long time, sighed in relief. Tweek, however, glared. This was going to be a long afternoon for him.

District 9 P.O.V:

Red Goth and Evan were sitting on a large couch while waiting for their stylist.

"So…yeah, I heard that our stylist's name is Pantene." Evan stated.

"That sounds like a name for a stupid vampire-poser."

"Totally."

"Ahhlo" a large, German woman with a raspy voice said. "Ah am Pantene and ah will be your stylist."

Both Goths shut up before she could hear something that would anger her.

"Nahw," she pulled out a sausage from her apron and took a bite from it, "I came here to 'elp you, but also to scare chieeldren."

Red Goth and Evan gave each other nervous glances.

Pantene, who had already eaten half of her sausage, carelessly threw it aside. "Nahw, ah am the stylist and ah know what you shall wear! You will alsooh do as ah say."

"Do we get to, like, pick the outfits?" Evan asked.

"NAHO!"

"Fine."

"You will wear…lederhosen."

"Leder- what?"

"LEDERHOSEN!"

Evan, who knew what a lederhosen was, groaned. "Oh, shit…"

District 10 P.O.V:

"Ok, like, I have the absolute perfect outfits for you two; you're going to look fab-u-lous!" Ike and Henrietta's stylist, Avon, exclaimed.

"Ok, so…what are we wearing?" Ike asked.

"I'm not telling you, it's a surprise, you silly little goose!"

"Why?" Henrietta asked.

"Because telling you what it looks like would ruin the fun! Now you wouldn't want that, hun, now would you? I think not!"

Ike and Henrietta glanced at each other. Ike then leaned over and began whispering to his teammate.

"Um…is this guy…"

"Gay? Yeah, I'm pretty sure he is."

"Oh! Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you share with everyone! Now come on, sweeties, don't leave me out of the excitement! I like juicy gossip, too!"

"Um…" Henrietta began.

"We were just discussing something, it's not really important."

"Aw, but, cupcake, if it's not important, then why not share? Please tell me, hun!"

Henrietta gave a defeated sigh and began to explain. "We were just saying that…uh…how should I put this…"

"Hey! Look! Two naked guys running around a tree!"

"WHAT! OH MY GOODNESS! I NEED PICTURES!" Avon squealed while grabbing his camera.

"Nice save, kid."

"Thanks, but we're screwed when he finds out that there aren't really naked guys outside. I only did that so we could have enough time to think of a lie."

"Oh my heavens! This is fab-u-lous!" Avon exclaimed in a sing-song voice.

Ike and Henrietta both raised their eyebrows and walked over to the window, only to see two naked men running around the giant palm tree in the hotel garden.

"Wow…talk about lucky…"

"Hey, isn't that Stan and…Kyle?" Ike asked, evidently shocked.

"I think it is."

"Oh my! Tehe! I got three pictures. I think that that is enough though. Now, let's talk about the outfits, shall we?"

Avon then linked arms with Ike and Henrietta and dragged them into the closet to see their outfits.

District 11 P.O.V:

Token and Butters were standing up against the wall while watching their stylist, Lancôme, pace back and forth while mumbling to himself. After about five minutes, he stopped and turned to the boys.

"Alright, as you can probably tell, I'm new to this. I have never, in my whole life, dealt with makeup."

"Um…I d-don't mean to be a p-pain, sir, but why did you sign up to be a stylist if you don't know how to use m-makeup?"

Lancôme chuckled. "No, it's ok. I'm doing this because my mom kicked me out of her basement and I need money to buy a new guitar."

Token raised an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight. You're 21 years old, your mom kicked you out of her basement, you're flat-out broke, and your number one priority is buying a new guitar?"

"Yeah, dude."

"…And you don't see anything wrong with that plan?"

"No-o-o…"

"Are you serious right now? You see nothing, nothing at all, wrong with that plan?"

"No little man. I broke my guitar and I need a new one!"

Token facepalmed.

"Anyway, I was thinking that, now bear with me, you two could dress up in an outfit that makes you look like you were mauled by dogs."

"W-what! Why would we do that!" Butters asked.

"Because little dude, it'll make you guys look tough. You'll look like you went through a lot of shit to get where you are now! You catching my drift?"

"No! I am not catching your drift! There are two things wrong with that plan: One, How are we supposed to look like we were ripped apart by dogs while wearing nice clothes, and two, it's stupid!"

Lancôme rolled his eyes. "I have an answer to both of those statements: One, you'll see, and two, harsh man."

If looks could kill, Lancôme would be six feet under.

"So, um, going b-back to Token's question, sir, how would we pull off this 'shredded-by-dogs look'?"

"Well its simple little guy, first, we'll rip the clothes that your parents sent you."

"Nuh-uh! No way! That outfit cost me $25,000 because it was imported from Paris, France. There is no way in hell that I'm going to let disgusting, poor, piece of trash lay a finger on it!"

"O-k, slight drawback. How about you, little guy? Does your outfit cost that much?"

"No, my parents bought mine for $10 at Wal-Mart. It was on clearance!"

"Sweet. Wal-mart, that's where I buy all of my clothes."

"Why am I not surprised?" Token muttered to himself.

"Oh yeah! What was the second thing you were going to say, Lancôme?"

"Thanks for reminding me! The second thing is, due to budget cuts, we can't afford fake blood, so…"

"Woah, woah, woah…" Token interrupted, "What are all of these 'budget cuts' for anyway?"

"I honestly don't know, man. Apparently only that Effie chick and a few other people know what it's for because it's 'top secret'. Anyways, dude, it's not polite to interrupt!"

"Oh, what do you know about manners?"

This earned a glare from Lancôme.

"Sorry…"

"So, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, in order to have the bloody look, we need to squirt ketchup all over your bodies! Isn't that awesome?"

"No!"

"B-but wouldn't that make us smell like a giant tomato?" Butters questioned.

"Yeah, genius. What about the smell?"

Lancôme thought for a moment. Then, his face brightened.

"Oh God, he has an idea." Token mumbled.

"We'll spray you guys with Febreze! It eliminates odors and allows you to experience a fresh breath!"

"Wow! You sure know a lot about that stuff! Are you a Febreze spokesman or something?"

"No, I just use Febreze on my clothes rather than washing it. It's cheaper and more efficient. What a life saver!"

Token had a look of disgust on his face. "Cheaper, more efici-…Dude! You do realize that Febreze is mainly for couches and rugs and can occasionally be used on clothes, right?"

"What? Ah, whatever! It's all I can afford."

"That's so sick!"

"My God, you're so bipolar! First you think it's disgusting, and now you think it's awesome? What's wrong with you?"

Token rolled his eyes. "By sick I mean…"

"Fellers!"

Lancôme and Token stopped arguing and stared at the blonde boy in front of them.

"Good, I h-have your attention. Um…well…I d-don't mean to interrupt you guys but it is getting a little late…"

"Oh! Yes, you're right! Ok, let's get started on the costumes!"

Token grumbled and reluctantly followed his teammate and stylist into the closet.

District 12 P.O.V:

"Dude, I just got this new playboy the other day and it's fucking amazing!"

"Ok. Zats nice. 'Ow much was eet?"

"About $5 bucks, and yeah, it's like, awesome! Hey, I think we should take this divider down, it's kinda hard to talk."

"Yees, it kinda ees."

It was at that moment that Cinna, their stylist, decided to walk in.

"Hey, Cinna!" Kenny shouted from the left side of the divider, "Can you take this stupid wall down? It's fucking annoying!"

Cinna raised an eyebrow. "Um…are you sure? Are you guys like…that? Because if you are, just tell me, I won't judge!"

"No! No! Zwe're not gay. We just zink zat it would be much easier to talk with ze deevider down."

"Uh-huh…" Cinna said, clearly unconvinced, "Well ok."

"Ah. Thanks dude!" Kenny exclaimed as he pushed the divider down, only to find Ze Mole staring out the window.

"What are you looking at, Chris?"

"Zwhy are your friends Stan and Kyle running around a palm tree naked?"

"WHAT!"

Kenny rushed over to the window, cell phone in hand. "Dude! This will make awesome blackmail one day. Haha!"

Kenny and Ze Mole looked over at Cinna who was waiting patiently in front of the closet.

"Ok, we're ready."

Cinna smiled and walked over to both of the boys. "So, Katniss told me that both of you have died before? Am I correct?"

Kenny and Ze Mole both nodded.

"Ok, so I was thinking that the two of you would wear something similar to what you usually wear, but black and with fake blood."

"Zat zounds awesome."

"Yeah, that's cool! I'll wear it!"

Cinna smiled. "Good, now let's get you two dressed."

Ok so that was the chapter! I hope you liked it. Now in this chapter, as you could see, we had some FAKE Kenny x Ze Mole slash. We added that in because Wkana-ShiroU asked for it. :) So…I am going to make an announcement: We will now take suggestions for the story. But, of course, the suggestions are limited. Here are the rules:

1.) We already know who's going to win and the death order, so no suggesting death orders or winners.

2.) We already have the whole plot set up, so anything irrelevant to the plot will be ignored. Sorry.

3.) No rated M suggestions. We are keeping this strictly a rated T story.

4.) No suggesting your OCS, we won't take them.

5.) Finally, no suggesting HOW a character will die, we have that set up too.

So that's basically it. You can suggest pairings (crack, straight, slash, you name it)…but it'll most likely be a fake slash, um…you can suggest small things that can happen. The reason why the rules are so strict is because, again, we have the middle and ending all figured out.

ONE MORE THING!

If you can be the first figure out how we came up with the names for all of the OC stylists, we (Rachel & Maggie) will write a one-shot of your choice: You can pick what character/characters you want in it and you can come up with SOME of the plot, but it has to be rated K-T. Ok? Haha this is going o be fun.

So, yeah, I hope you liked it! Review and stuff. Flames will be used for marshmallows!