I have pretty much all the forms lol. I just took forever because I've been doing a martial arts course with the Marines and they had this old-timer attitude about "you have to EARN it lol" and they do insane workouts so I've been going to bed at 7:30 XD


Sagar Dewpont- District Two male

Two was the purest District in Panem. I didn't mean some backwards racist way, like we had purer blood somehow. I just meant we were the most authentic. In Two, you got what you earned. It was a pure meritocracy. The better-equipped were rightly ranked the highest, and those that couldn't execute were relegated to lower lives. People in Two weren't inherently better than people in other Districts, but we were credited based on our accomplishments, and that individual freedom and incentive was why we had more Victors than any other District.

I greatly looked forward to my time in the Games. Everyone would be looking at me and seeing how well I was performing. When I brought home victory for Two, I would come home to crowds of people clamoring to thank me. As for the killing part, it wasn't the big draw, but I didn't mind it. When you went into the Arena, you weren't a kid anymore. You were an opponent. I don't kill kids, but I kill opponents.

There was only one thing standing between me and the Arena: Dew Dreschel.

Dew wasn't a better Academy student than I was. Some people just didn't see it that way. Some of the instructors were always going on and on about him. His sword skills. His run times. His reaction times. All the times they said he beat me at sparring, and the one time he actually did, since I tripped over a spear someone left out. Over and over they gushed over him, leaving me neglected and overlooked. I was the one that deserved to go. The ones that couldn't see that were just wrong. When the volunteers were announced and they picked him over me, I was sincerely surprised. I was the right choice. It was obvious. I wasn't some egotistical blowhard who thought I was the best at everything, but I was the best at being a Career. I didn't understand how they didn't see that, and it infuriated me.

I tried to do it the clean way. I met with my instructors and explained my case. When they weren't listening, I made an appointment with the headmaster and explained it to him. I thought he would get it and it seemed at first that he did. He admitted I excelled across the board. Then he started talking about Drew's "advantages" and my eyes glazed over. I hadn't wanted to take it this far, but they left me no choice.

Four days later, when Drew picked up his gym bag, a syringe fell out. The instructor tried to pretend he didn't see it, but some of the students did, and every one of them raised hell. Drew was hauled off protesting and screaming to the nurse's office, where he was told he could provide a sample or be expelled. It would have looked mighty suspicious if the test had turned up clean. But if the test would turn up clean Drew wouldn't have been protesting. Of course he tested positive. Every student in the Academy would test positive if we did random drug tests. That was why we stopped doping three weeks before the Games- to pass the tests we always did two weeks before the Games.

I wouldn't have had to do it if they'd just seen reason. Drew was seventeen, like me. He could have gone next year. We both could have won. They just had to try to cheat me out of what I deserved. They insulted me and made a victim out of me. That I could never tolerate.


Medusa Gorgona- District Two female

At some point in our lives, we've all run across someone that was just irredeemable. Someone who killed twenty kids or set a cat on fire. We look at them and feel this primal disgust and hatred and think of what torture we'd inflict on them if we ever met them. But do we ever stop and think that no matter how fucked up someone is, something made them that way? It's still their fault they set that cat on fire. Someone abusing you doesn't absolve you abusing someone else. But the fact remains that they wouldn't be like that if whatever happened to make them into what they were hadn't happened. They used to be kids, too. At some point, if you go back far enough, they were innocent. They just didn't get to stay that way.

When I was little, I loved make-believe. I made stories about unicorns and dragons and faraway lands with purple skies and grand adventures. Then something happened. It wasn't even something big. I know what kind of person I am, and I know what happened to make me what I am. It was something so small. It was nothing but my hair. It didn't matter that I was far from the first person to have bushy, frizzy hair. It didn't matter that it looked like my mother's and I always thought hers was so beautiful. There was no logic behind it. It was just what the children found to latch onto and cast someone out so they could be secure in their own positions. I still remember the day I told myself my last pretend story. I stopped in the middle and never told another one after I realized that the heroine of the story had straight hair.

My flowing imagination hardened into jagged sarcasm. I was still as quick and creative with words. I just used them to attack instead of brighten. I flung them like knives so no one could get close. And still that wouldn't have been enough to make me into the kind of person we wonder about and hate. It's never one moment like in the stories. It's a thousand cuts until you bleed dry.

The next cut was the cruelest, since it was a mercy. I started training with Stheno because my sister loved me and cared for me. I treasured the time I spent with her in the Academy. It was the best part of my day, and I never realized that what I was learning from her was her cruelest parts. I didn't see the darkness when I won my first sparring session by sticking a training knife into my opponent's face. I only heard Stheno's praise and excitement for my accomplishment.

Even that wouldn't have been enough. Despite my training and my wounds, I still cared about humanity. I hated my bullies for what they did, but I still valued life. I still saw the beauty in people. I saw people building each other up, like the days I sat with my sister Euryale sculpting things that it used to be I would tell stories about.

The last one cut me past all hope. It wasn't one cut that broke me, but it was one day. I was training one night. Most people had gone home. Poe, the bodybuilding instructor, hadn't. Everything I need to know about humans I learned from him. Anyone will do to any other person anything he thinks he can get away with. Destroying something is infinitely easier than creating something. Creation will never have a prayer of catching up. The inner light that flickers in a person is as fragile as a sheet of glass and there is no replacing it. Humans shatter. We destroy. We hurt past all healing with the callousness of an animal. My light was gone in the blink of an eye. There was nothing left but cold, dark, empty hate.

Hate. Hate. Hate. Let me hurt. Let others hurt like they hurt me. I'll kill them all and I'll dance on their graves in the crown I win from their blood. Let me hate so hard there's no room for any other feeling. Some of the irredeemable ones know they're not the good guys. I am responsible for my actions and I choose this. When people look at me, they'll shiver at the things humans are willing to do. It used to be I'd shiver too.


Sagar: looks a lot like some guy named Omar Borkan al Gala

Medusa: dark skin, deep brown eyes, and brown curly hair that was once more poofy but she keeps it a little tamer due to bullying. Looks a lot like Zazie Beetz