This is my first ever SYOT or fanfiction of any kind, so stay with me here! I hope you enjoy it, feel free to PM your tributes. The rules for submitting a tribute is simply you can only submit 2 as the absolute maximum. Review, follow, submit a tribute, or don't- but I'd appreciate it if you did!

Tribute Form is on my profile :p

Note: District 13 is destroyed in my fic, only ruins remain.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games

Coriolanus Snow,

President of Panem.

I sit, solemnly, at my desk. My eyes flit across the room as I glimpse some movement. In an instant, I recognize her. My granddaughter, Celestia Snow. She glides over to me.

"Hello Grandfather. What are you doing?" she inquires, cocking her dainty head.

"Oh, my dear, I am simply thinking." That is my full explanation but she looks at me as if wanting more. I sigh. "The 74th was a mess. There's a spark that has ignited and is spreading throughout the districts like wildfire. How am I to regain my control?" The question is meant for myself, but instead of my mind providing an answer, it's Celestia speaking.

"Remind them, Grandfather. Don't bother making a new arena; use the ruins of District 13. They'll get to see what happens firsthand, then. Make them fight amidst the ruins." Though her sentence is incomplete, I get the point she is trying to make; allow the districts to see the desolation of District 13, so they know what could happen to their district if this continued. It was a good mind-game.

"It is a good idea, but it's not the arena that creates the Quell, it's the twist as well. Though, I think I will stage this year's games at District 13, thank you, Celestia."

Celestia seemed satisfied and wandered off back into the mansion. I stayed seated, thinking through what she had just suggested. Yes. District 13, she is a smart girl, I think to myself, now I'll just have to see if the twist matches up.

I stand up and begin walking over to a silver box, an attractive lock placed perfectly. The silver key with beautiful patterns on a necklace around my neck. Slowly, I remove it and twist the key into the waiting lock. There is a faint click that informs me that it is open.

I take a step back, just staring at the box. Then I fling the top open and locate the envelope with a cursive '75' and sealed by a red stamp. I carefully open the envelope with delicate movements, so as to not tear the paper within.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I have the paper sitting on my hand, bottom up. I take a deep breath, preparing myself, and turn it over. The inscribed words made my face light up.

"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels of the blood that they needlessly spilled, all the tributes must be related, by blood, to a victor from that district. Anyone aged 12+ that meets the requirements is eligible."

That's the start! I hope you like it. If you have any ideas or constructive criticism I would love to hear it. Thank you!