Ellie Rosebush, District Eleven Female, 14 years old

Reaping days are cold for me, always have been and always will be. Why? They're a reminder of what little family I have left. When I was nine my eldest brother was reaped and eventually died in the Games. He didn't place very far. When the victor came to our district my father kicked off. The victor did, after all, kill my brother. My father was executed on the spot there and then. My mother had tried to intervene and she was beaten so badly she lost all her senses, living life in a vegetative state. Some of the kinder peacekeepers put her out of her misery. I was sent to live with my grandmother who kept me close. Where she went, I went and where I went, she went. Reaping days are cold because they remind me about how little I have in the world.

My grandmother likes to spoil me on reaping days to try and make up for the events that happened. She gets me little things like ribbons and nice hairpins, small things that I don't use so often. It's the thought that counts though and every reaping I make sure to incorporate what she got for me last year into what I wear. This year she gets me a a dress, a pale pink one. It's fluffy, reminiscent of the types I used to love wearing when I was younger. My smile of happiness that reflects back at me in the mirror must give her some reassurance that I like it because she too smiles, placing her hands on my shoulders.

I take in the image. It's me and her, the only members of our family left. We've been together now for five years and she promises me she won't leave me anytime soon but I'm terrified - what if she dies? I'll be all alone then and I'll have to go to the orphanage. The place that, if you're there, you can say goodbye to any future life and career you might've had. I love my grandmother. I hope she stays with me for a long time and I can stay with her.

We spend this reaping morning like we do most times - hugging. She always hugs me and comforts me as I eat my breakfast, singing lullabies and telling stories about the brave victors from our district. It's quite childish, but it helps her relax and I'm not opposed to it. For a seemingly frail old woman, my grandmother is strong both emotionally and mentally. She's trying to teach me to be the same way and one day I hope I can do her proud. After all, she's spent the last five years of her life fuelling herself into me. The least I can do is be someone who she can look back on and be proud of.

I love my grandmother and I'll do anything for her.

Brock Ushums, District Eleven Male, 18 years old

It's hard when you have to raise your siblings. It really makes you open up your eyes and see what parents worry about. You worry that one wrong move might make them resent you forever. Children are finicky little things and need to be treated with care. I've only been taking care of my siblings for one year now, but it's harder than I could ever imagine. I'm the oldest of six and naturally I've helped raise my siblings, but nothing compares to the situation I'm in now.

My mother died when she was giving birth to the youngest siblings, Darren and Kevon. My father died last year of an unexpected heart attack. Since then caring of my siblings has taken over my life. I dropped out of school and the family babysitter - a girl in my class called Savanna - helped me take care of my siblings. Whilst I worked long hours in the fields she looked after them at home. It got to the point where she moved in to maximise the help she could give.

I tend to be strict towards my siblings. We need to know how to ration the food properly to ensure that everyone gets a decent bit to eat and I make sure that they wear their clothes for as long as possible. I could buy them the cheaper material stuff, but that's uncomfortable and I'd much rather save up for a bit longer and be able to buy them decent clothes that'll last them a while. I make sure to have fun though, seeing as they're all ten and under. We draw using the makeshift pencils we make and I always make sure to run about the house with them on my shoulders. That's their favourite thing. I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing them laugh - it's such an innocent sound that gives me hope, hope that they'll grow up and be able to do something with their lives.

This year is the first reaping without my father and neither Savanna or myself know what to do. We're both still eligible to be reaped and we haven't discussed what we'd do if one of us was. We hope we'll never have to cross that bridge. They don't quite understand the Games, even though we watch it every year together. They say ignorance is bliss and I hope for their sake that stays true for as long as possible.

We wear the clothes we wore to my father's funeral. All the clothes are slightly tight but they're the nicest things we own. They look slightly ridiculous on me, but I don't care. It's about the person, not the clothes. My siblings look better - because of their smaller statures they can get away with wearing them. They all look as if they're wearing clothes they're meant to where unlike myself.

I always think myself and Savanna look a sight - me on one end and her on the other with five small children between us, all holding hands. Again, not that I care. It's my family and I'm willing to do whatever for them.

Ellie Rosebush, District Eleven Female, 14 years old

Our escort is bored of our district now, that much is certain. A few years ago we had tributes making it to the top ten every year and, for the majority of the years, one making it to the top five but recently they've been Bloodbath kills. The best we did was last year in which someone placed eleventh. Her boredom is reflected in her monotonous voice and I can't help but wonder what else she'd rather be doing. Probably escorting for one of the better outer districts probably. District Eight's been doing well recently - I'm sure she'd like to be there.

She has a habit of going to the very bottom of the bowl, shaking up and mixing all of the tributes names until they're in a completely different order to what they were. She'll then pick the name that's sticking up the most and that person is our tribute.

She does this ritual twice this year, probably to ensure that there's a total randomness in the name picking. Apparently, in the Capitol, they believe that the escorts get told that the oldest tributes have their names at the bottom but in reality it's the other way around and their names are at the top. Our escort must think this too because it's only been in recent years that she's conducted this ritual.

She picks up a few pieces of paper, places them all down and picks one randomly. She marches back to the microphone and reads out the name.

"Ellie Rosebush!"

Brock Ushums, District Eleven Male, 18 years old

A relatively tall girl from the fourteen-year-olds section emerges into the central aisle. She looks quite formidable - she's not too skinny but she's certainly not too chubby. She seems the perfect build to be an athlete - or a model. I wouldn't be surprised if in a hypothetical world she wins that she's offered a modelling contract by the Capitol.

When she's on the stage her face is unreadable. You can't tell if she's upset, scared or happy. Her lips are pursed and the only sense of emotion is when a woman wails out from the crowd. Naturally everyone turns and a small old lady is weeping. The girl on stage's features soften and she brings a hand to her face to wipe up any tears before the fall. Some people around the older lady comfort her, hugging her as if she's a child.

Our escort, ignoring all of this, returns with a male name. She wasted no time in picking it.

"Brock Ushums!"

Really? Is this how the world decides to repay me, to add onto my bad luck? I can feel myself rolling my eyes as I walk into the aisle and up to the stage. My walk is brisk, angry and I can hear my siblings crying in the background. When I can see the district I look and notice that Savanna is trying her best to comfort them, but she herself is fighting back tears. You see, Savanna and I are more than just friends. Nothing major has happened yet, but there's something there.

It's a sick joke, really. The Capitol has forced me to take out tesserae because nothing was done to help my father nor my mother and now I'm being sent off to fight to the death?

The girl, Ellie, looks somewhat intimidated when she shakes my hand but I make sure to smile softly at her. She isn't deserving of my anger.

The mixture of an old lady weeping and my siblings screaming for me fill my ears as I walk into the Justice Building and I can still faintly hear them even when the doors are closed.

This chapter came much more natural to me, thankfully (though it couldn't get much worse from last chapter.)

Following advice and reactions to it, I'm going to post District 12's reaping separately.

I really got the feel for these two tributes and I hope I did them justice!

To answer your question, marinaskies, yes this is an AU, kinda. You see, I liked the known arena of the desert that was the 69th Hunger Games and decided to use that for the victor of last year's games, Glitter. I totally forgot about Annie's victory until I was halfway done with the story so I decided to carry on. I say it's a semi-AU because everything in the universe is the same, just Annie isn't the female tribute for District Four and the arena won't be flooded (spoilers!) I hope this answered your question :)

As always, reviews make me happy~!

- Oli