Trigger warning: mentions of some explicit content.

Vivian Shaw, 18
District 1 Female

Three months before the Reaping

Just one more day left and it's all gonna be over…

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I keep telling myself that.

To really rub salt in the wound would be to fall just short of getting picked. To be good, but not good enough. I swear, I'd kill a bitch if that happens. I've been working for this my whole life. But it all ends tomorrow. I'm still in today and that means I've got a job to do. I hate that job. However, money is money and I need it.

As per usual, training is a breeze. And I don't have any reason to believe otherwise. I know at this point, after all the trials and tests and practices, that I'm more than on the radar of the trainers in charge. They have to pick me. There's no better lady to represent District 1 in the Games.

But they could always change their minds...

"See you tomorrow," I tell Rudy once my bag is fully packed. He doesn't even look up. "I'm leaving now. Hey. Babe?"
"You're going down to that disgusting sex shack, aren't you?"
"That sex shack is where I work."

"Damn it, Vivian! You know how I feel about you going there! How is it fair to me that you those perverted old men leer at you like a hunk of meat?"

"Well, unlike you, I actually need the money. And the way I choose to get it is none of your business, please and thank you very much."
"But-"
"Goodnight, babe. I'll see you tomorrow."

I can't believe we're having this argument again. I swear, Rudy thinks I owe him something, because he saved me from having to date a customer or whatever. But my body is not his business. And I owe nobody nothing.

Shit, I wish today was over already so I could just find out my fate. I know I'm good enough for this. But I don't have it in me to be optimistic. That doesn't make me a pessimist. Just a realist. This world can be much too unkind to look for every single silver lining. Because sometimes they don't exist.

At work, I quickly change into my gold bikini with an olive trim. Oh how I love the colour gold. Lionesses are gold. And everyone knows you don't mess with them. You poke a lioness the wrong way, and she'll rip your throat out.

They're hunters. Killers. Beasts. Untouchable.

The mistresses running the joint nod when they see me. They've been keeping me safe from any creep's unwanted advances ever since I started working here. At this point, the regulars, who were never the problem customers anyways, and they know the dancers are off-limits and respect is important. Or else the bouncer's gonna get involved. My job is not to get tangled up in that, though. My job is to put on a show.

Well technically, it's not my job. It's Vixen's.

I climb onstage and feel the pole's warm touch. So familiar, it's haunting. But I know my routine the way I know how to throw a knife like nobody's business. And so does Vixen.

Vixen is the one who dances with a cold pole for a partner. Sultry. Sexy. Assertive. Confident. Powerful. I'm jealous of her because she's everything I want to be and everything I want to have.

For a moment, if the music is just right, I can pretend I don't have a problem or a care in the world, that my troubles have never existed, that life is perfect and flawless. The world I've carefully crafted for Vixen, but always seems just out of my grasp.

When the dance is over and they give me my pay to pocket, Vixen says goodbye to the world as I pack up my bikini and change into some normal clothes. It's raining outside. Damn, I forgot to bring an umbrella. By the time I get home, I look like a drowned rat. Mom opens the door and laughs when she sees me. "Honey, did you get caught in the rain?"

"It would appear so."
"Come in so you don't catch a cold. Have they announced the volunteers yet?"
"The volunteers...oh, no. That's happening tomorrow."
"Oh. Well, best of luck."

"Pah!" I hear Dad snort from the living room. "Tough luck! District 1 doesn't need a slut representing them in the Games."
Mom gasps. "Pinot! How disrespectful! Show some support for your daughter!"

"Well, if she were to put the pole down and focus on actually training, then maybe she has a semi decent shot at being chosen. She needs to devote more time to the Academy."
"She has devoted ten years to the Academy!"

I am not sticking around for this argument. Some days, I can bring home as much as double Dad's salary if I really work at it. At least Mom's a little more open-minded; she's a woman, she gets it. For some girls, sex appeal is the only weapon they have. I refuse to fall into that trap. Yeah sure, I may look pretty, but I want to be able to slit anyone's chest open before they manage to put their hands in a place their grimy fingers don't belong.

But Dad spending long hours breaking his back looking for diamonds and Mom attempting to rule over a classroom of unhinged 4 year-olds is what leads to this kind of stuff. If only the rest of Panem knew what some of District 1 endures to put shiny jewels on their fingers. Someone's gotta mine them, and those that do never get rewarded for their efforts. If anything, the rich folks pretend we don't exist.

What would Vixen do, if she was stuck in a place like this?

Maybe she'd never be here in the first place. She'd have money, authority, and finally be in a spot where she can afford to dream. Not trapped between a rock and a hard place, or a stripper pole and possible eviction from her tiny little shack her family calls home.

I can't be Vixen yet. Not until I win the Games and get my ass out of here. Oh sure, I'll give my parents a bit of the money. Mom deserves to get something nice for herself, like a new house and a better job. As for Dad, I can do without the slut-shaming, but I don't really want him to die with a crooked back and dirt under his nails because he can't find a decent place to work. They care, they just have a funny way of showing it at times. I get it. Life is hard.

Upstairs, I chuck my bag onto my bed and flop down next to it; I'll wash everything later. Kimberly flops upwards a little before resuming her rightful position next to my pillow. Is it lame to be 18 years old and still have a stuffed lion on your bed? Do I care? She's been with me through everything. Dad bought her for me back when Mom was still pregnant and he gave her to me when I first came home.

Kimberly was there when I first started training, and I came home in tears because I couldn't afford all the shiny new equipment and clothes like everyone else so they laughed at me. When Mom lost her job and we found ourselves struggling to make ends meet. When I marched right into the joint after that creep manager approached me and told me I had the perfect body for that kind of sleazy shit. When I met Rudy. When I sprained my ankle and thought for sure that my training days were over.

Through it all, Kimberly has always been with me. I won't take her into the Games, though. She's much too precious to lose.

"Vivian? Vivian! Dinner is ready!"

Once downstairs, I take my seat at the head of the table, between both parents. Mom gives Dad a nasty look as she starts setting all the cutlery onto the table. "Go on. Don't you have something to say?"

"Sorry, Vivian."
"Is there more?" I ask him.

"Fine. Sorry for insulting your choice of profession. I understand that we unfortunately don't have a lot of spare money lying around and it's honourable how you pay for your training yourself. I just want my daughter to be respected, alright? It saddens me to see you get treated this way. You've proven you are capable of a lot and I want you to recognize that."

"Alright," I say, sealing the truce. Tomorrow, we'll probably both be back into our old ways. At least if I get chosen to volunteer, I can drop the gig for good. I'll never dance on a pole for anybody else's pleasure again.

Dad reaches across the table and hands me a bread roll. "Think about it this way. If you aren't chosen to volunteer, my overseer says he has plenty of openings for you. You can work right alongside your old man."
"But I don't want to. The pay sucks."
"It's modest work."
"That's not the point."

"Okay, I think we better start eating all this food before it gets cold." Mom claps her hands together. "Scalloped potatoes, Vivian?"
"Sure. The food's lovely by the way, Mom."

Mom's a really amazing cook; she can use the most meager of supplies to make a really great meal. When I win the Games, I'll get her the best kitchen she's ever seen, complete with the fanciest of cooking tools. Everyone else in 1 will be jealous and they'll be begging for her to make them a good meal. But I'll be standing in the middle of the room with her surrounded by marble countertops as we both burst into hysterical laughter and sip white wine from crystal glasses.

"I hope you get picked tomorrow," she says, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "I'll buy us some nice steak cuts for dinner and I'll make gravy to go alongside it. And you can invite Rudy over. How is he anyways? We haven't seen him in a month."

I just sigh. "I love that boy, but he can be such a pain sometimes. What makes him think he's entitled to me?"
"Some men are just like that, honey." Mom smiles sympathetically. "And you can't let them get to you like that because then they won't learn it's not right. Just put your foot down and establish boundaries."
"That's what I've been doing."

Dad raises an eyebrow. "Rudy? Is he not listening to you? Do you need to send your old man over there to whoop his ass, Vivian?"
"I'm trained. I can whoop his ass myself."
"I'm sure you can, sweetheart." Mom laughs nervously. She probably wants this conversation to be put to rest before Dad starts arguing that I could spend even more time training if I wasn't dancing and I'll bring up my wages again and it will all spiral out of control. In all fairness, I don't blame her because he's just beating a dead horse at this point.

I bet Vixen's life never spirals and she has everything right where she wants it. What would I know? I'm just some poor sap from the worst end of 1 who pole dances for a living.

After dinner, I find myself back up in my room lying across my bed. I suppose I could go for a run or something, but I don't really feel like it. I just hate how my entire future lies in someone else's hands.

I just want to go into the Games so badly.

Who cares if I win or lose? The odds are definitely in my favour. And dying...well, the thought of dying isn't exactly scary to me. I get it, and I understand, but it's just not scary. Or a new concept, if I'm being honest. I've felt like I was on death's door before. But I'm not going to die. A girl as trained as me doesn't die easily. If I can get myself to pole dance for a few hours every day, I can tackle anything and everything the Gamemakers throw at me.

Sleep comes rather easy tonight. I'm a light sleeper, but I'm also that exhausted. I find myself dreaming of Vixen, standing on a stage with a golden crown in her hair, as the Victor of the Games. No stress, no money problems, no worries, nothing.

It's an ideal life. And I want it. I want all of it. I want the crown, the gold, the blood, the beauty, the title. Oh yeah, and the money. Being a Victor needs to have its perks.

Oh, what a life that must be.

Desdemona Rise, 64
District 1 Escort

They called her "Grandmother Escort" for a reason.

She had been working with the District 1 team for almost thirty years at this point. She had spent at least a year in every single district. She was easily one of the most recognizable names in her profession and every Victor had at least heard of her if not personally knew here. When Desdemona stepped inside the Justice Building, Peacekeepers moved out of her way.

Once they saw their approaching escort, the icy exteriors of Diane and Lapis both briefly melted away and the two young Victors embraced her. She remembered when they were teenagers leaping for their chance to volunteer and stand on the stage beside her, instead of behind her with their fellow Victors.

Normally, Desdemona would have an Avox assistant travelling alongside her. This year, she decided to go along and give the Avoxes a bit of a break. She knew Diane and Lapis well enough to know that they didn't want pity and they were just as strong as every Victor who came before them. Maybe the pair of them could help get 1 a new Victor before a drought truly began.

"Wonderful to see you again, Desdemona." Lapis gently kissed her gloved hand.
"The feeling is mutual, my dear. Are you both ready for this year's Reaping?"

Diane nodded. "Let's get this show on the road."

The end of Desdemona's silver dress draped on the floor behind her and one delicately gloved hand gently clutched the fabric and hiked it up slightly, only enough to reveal the silver flats she had on underneath and to make walking slightly easier. She kept her head forwards. She had a presence to upkeep. After all, presence could make or break one's character. It was always something she coached her tributes on, in order to help them flourish and succeed. Right before reaching the door, she gently retouched her lipstick and coifed her hair.

Some districts could be quite rowdy. But 1 was beyond used to her by now and they knew she wasn't one for much ruckus. The applause was thunderous, but polite. Desdemona waited a few seconds for all the noises to die down before she selected the first name. "Jewel Hondora."

The 16 year-old girl wouldn't be spending long on the stage. Desdemona asked for a volunteer and right on cue, an arm shot up. It belonged to a pretty young woman with fair skin, blue eyes, gold lipstick, and long dirty blonde hair. Upon the stage, the volunteer shook Desdemona's hand and introduced herself as Vivian Shaw. She turned to the cameras to give them a flirty smile, biting her lip and tilting her head back as she did.

Admittedly, not the kind of tribute Desdemona would've expected Diane and Lapis of all people to pick. But Vivian did look capable enough. And the old escort had seen time and time again the flirty strategy pay off with some pretty results. Sex sold and it sold well.

She drew the second name. "Topaz Burlington."

Right as the 12 year-old boy put his foot on the first step towards the stage, the volunteer called out and Desdemona didn't even have to ask. "Me, me, me! I volunteer as tribute!"

The volunteer pushed their way to the front of the crowd. They also had blonde hair, but cut short and framing their large brown eyes and the makeup on their face. Despite only having been out in the hot summer Sun for maybe half an hour, they had a pretty decent tan worked up already. Their name was Prism Lazuli, and they were beyond confident that they would be District 1's next Victor.

Desdemona was pretty impressed with the results. "District 1, your tributes; Vivian Shaw and Prism Lazuli."

The handshake between the two tributes was cordial but short; obviously, they had already known for three months that the other would be joining them into the Games. The district began to cheer as everyone was escorted back into the Justice Building.

In her head, Desdemona began to plan what to do for both Prism and Vivian; what strategies might work for each of them. She may not have been an official mentor, but she definitely had years of experience and knew plenty of tricks that not even the younger Victors were aware of. One would be a fool not to take her advice.

Another day, another Reaping, and another moodboard up on the blog.

I'm sure a lot of you have school starting up in a few weeks or are back in session already. Thankfully, I still have a bit of a stockpile, so while DoaS may slow down a little bit, I will still keep regular updates.

I also have a new group project started up known as The Gamemakers Quill Initiative, where a group of authors will all write the same THG story. We're in the midst of planning things out and will hopefully start our writing soon. If you're interested, reach out to me via PM or DM on Discord and I'll happily answer any questions you might have.

See you all next chapter,

-Vr