.
xiv. debut
✦ ✧ ✦
a person's first appearance or performance in a particular capacity or role
vangelis abello
twenty-four / / a.s.s.h.o.l.e
—
There's nothing like late nights with Lyn Guini on Late Nights with Lyn Guini.
(Technically, a better name for the show would be Early Mornings with Lyn Guini since it airs at half past midnight, but Vangelis has never fought him about it, nor do they plan to. Rare actually, because if there's one thing about them, it's that they love to fight a bitch.)
Lyn's usual show is on at 20:00 and is filmed on the very top floor of the Capitol's broadcasting tower, overlooking the gilded city's bright lights. Late Nights, however, is filmed in the basement, in a much cozier atmosphere. There's pillows and bean bags on the floor and guests typically dress far more casually — it's reminiscent of all the sleepovers Vangelis never was invited to as a little kid.
Luckily, their numerous Late Nights appearances have more than made up for their prepubescent floophood. Especially on Reaping Days, when Lyn invites them on to give their own personal recap. The first year Vangelis was kicking it with Senna and Arisa, they were invited to speak at the real recap, but they didn't make it past District Three before Senna told them they'd be better off not speaking — and she was probably right..
The bright studio lights threaten to blind Vangelis as one of Lyn's employees finishes their makeup. Vangelis can beat their own face, of-fucking-course, but it's nice to make other people do it for them sometimes. Besides, they exerted all their effort for the evening when choosing an outfit — dark gray denim pants and a white mesh top (ha — top!) with a spiral pattern.
"What do you think, hon?" The makeup artist hands them a mirror.
She's certainly gone for something unique to say the least. Instead of giving Vangelis a cut crease or a smokey eye, she opted for a giant neon green stripe spanning from one temple to the other covering their eyelids. At first, they consider puking, but then they look and see that Lyn has a similar stripe, only in neon purple, and they suddenly feel much better.
Vangelis purses their lips. "Oh, this is cunt."
"Isn't it just?" The makeup artist walks away from the set and Lyn's artist soon follows suit.
"Well, bitch," Lyn says, lounging against a plush pink beanbag. Lately, they've been less eccentric with their outfits, which is definitely a choice, but she still decided to serve for such a special rendition of the show. "I believe it's time to go live."
"Okay, werk." Vangelis smirks. They position themself between burgundy pillows and strike a pose.
"We're live in thirty seconds," the man standing behind the camera shouts. "Guini, Abello, are you ready?"
"Please, Braedie." Lyn dramatically fluffs their short, ginger hair. "I was born ready."
Electronic music pulses through the speakers as Lyn readies themself for the show, eyes pointed on the giant clock on the other side of the studio that quickly counts down from 00:30.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome to Late Nights with Lyn Guini," he announces as the music slowly fades out. "I'm your host, Lyn Guini, and I am joined by a very special guest today." They glance at Vangelis and smile widely. "Oh special guest, do us a favor and introduce yourself."
"Wassup Panem!" Vangelis flashes a peace sign as the camera turns to them. "It's your First Freak, Vangelis Abello here, and we're about to make history as we discuss the first, and possibly only, Snow Day Reaping."
"Oh yes, that's right," Lyn says. "Happy Snow Day, Vangelis! Did you get what you wished for?"
"Well, there wasn't a strapping piece of man candy wrapped up underneath my tree with a fancy bow, so I'm afraid not."
"Do you still have a crush on—"
"Don't tell all of Panem about that!" Their stomach drops. Vangelis' thing for Zenith Stavarakis is supposed to be a secret, even if both their mothers were able to figure it out. What can they say? In the Hirohito household, it's not Katniss Everdeen, it's Clockthis Evertea!
"You really think this country cares about who you aren't fucking?"
"You really think this country cares about who you are?" Lyn just stares at them, deeply confused. That sounded like a much better insult in their head. Literally everybody knows that she's been practically married to Birken Win since she was thirteen and legally married to them since eighteen. Personally, Vangelis thinks they can do better. Lyn is everything, and well… Birken is just Ken.
"Anyways…" Lyn hums. "As you hopefully know, today marks the coverage of Panem's Centennial Celebration, otherwise known as the Fourth Quarter Quell, otherwise known as the One-Hundredth Hunger Games!"
"Whoop, whoop!" Vangelis metaphorically raises the roof.
"For the next six months, I'll be giving you an exclusive look at the City of Simulacra, where our twenty-six tributes will soon reside. I'll serve all the piping hot gossip and give you exclusive opportunities to sponsor your favorites when they have to fight to the death!" Lyn's eyes widen, like they're even more of a crazy bitch than they already were. "But first, let's run back those Reapings. This won't be a repeat of my earlier show, however. I'm pleased to offer you all, ladies and gentlethems, the very first testimonials of this year's Tributes!" If there was a crowd, they would be cheering right now.
"I can't wait to meet them." Though technically, Vangelis did already sneak a glimpse at the eight volunteers of the year, since their districts are close enough to the Capitol that the train ride could get them here the same day as the reapings. "Okay Lyn, what do you say you roll the footage for District One?"
"On it, Vangie!"
One's S.F. Starlett Theater is truly a feast for the eyes with golden filigree on the walls and a ginormous crystal chandelier hanging down from the ceiling. Even though One's vibes are a bit too "old-money" for Vangelis' liking, they have traveled to One to see a few musicals. It's the only district they've ever cared to visit for a reason — the main city of Denarius is on par with parts of the Capitol in terms of luxurious buildings, expensive food, and retail opportunities.
Everybody in the audience goes quiet as the escort, and Vangelis' favorite pop girlie, HarliZYZ, walks on stage in a sheer silver bodysuit and a large feather coat. When she reads the first name from the reaping bowl, nobody moves. Instead, a spotlight travels to the eighteens section, focusing on Odette Celestine, who raises her hand with grace, calling out "I volunteer as tribute!"
The people around her part and she struts toward the stage like a model to the sound of thunderous applause. Once she's onstage, she politely curtsies, and the feed switches to a shot of her dramatically draped against one of the couches in the train car.
—
H. ZYZ: Odette, babes… if you had a signature talent, what would it be, love?
O. CELESTINE : Well, it'd probably be serving cunt.
[She looks close into the camera and purses her lips.]
H. ZYZ: Obvi I know all about serving cunt, but would you be able to explain it to viewers who may not know?
O. CELESTINE: It's… you know… slaying.
H. ZYZ: Completely understandable, you little brat.
O. CELESTINE: Excuse me? Bitch, I am not a brat.
H. ZYZ: No — brat is a good thing now. It means you're a bad bitch and a cool girl.
O. CELESTINE: Well then, I guess I am a little brat.
[She winks.]
O. CELESTINE: Panem, I just want you to know that I am your dream girl's dream girl. I am your favorite tribute's, favorite tribute. And I am going to serve you exactly what you are, cunt!
—
Vangelis giggles. "Oh, I'm obsessed with this diva."
"I'm aware." Lyn aggressively nods her head. "You've only told me this several thousand times."
"I can't help it, she's everything!"
The scene returns to the theater, where Harli draws another name, and the same procedure of a spotlight finding somebody else repeats. This time, it's Lavish Tarro, who appears to be wearing roller skates.
"I am such a hot piece of ass," Lavish says as he rolls into the aisle closest to him. "And if it isn't clear, Harli, I volunteer. Now, let me show you what it means to get lucky."
Seemingly out of nowhere, a six-member jazz band pops out of the seats behind Lavish. As they start playing a song, the One boy breaks into an elaborate dance routine, pulling off all sorts of tricks on his roller skates while maintaining perfect timing with the music.
As he nears the stage, somebody in the audience holds out what seems like a newborn. Lavish grabs a marker from his pocket and writes his name on the baby's forehead. He blows it a kiss, then finally stands next to an incredibly distressed Odette. The music stops, he takes a bow, then proudly declares, "Everybody give it up for my amazing band. Thank you to Tarro Co. for so graciously providing them with instruments."
Strangely, Lavish isn't met with much applause, so it is rather awkward when the video transitions to him inside the train car, still on his roller skates.
—
H. ZYZ: What about you, diva? What are you good at?
L. TARRO: I'd say that I'm good at most things. I could list them out, but it might take a while.
H. ZYZ: Well, what are you best at.
L. TARRO: Um… winning. Obviously.
H. ZYZ: Would you like that to go on the record as your official talent?
L. TARRO: Actually, can you put down rollerskating?
H. ZYZ: Absolutely, babygirl.
L. TARRO: I get that I'm short, but I am not babygirl.
H. ZYZ: So sorry, pookie-wookie! I saw you had wheels on your shoes during your extensive display at the reaping. Would you mind putting on a little show for us now?
L. TARRO: I thought you'd never ask.
[He rolls into the center of the car and starts spinning around in circles, swaying his hips and doing disco moves with his hands.]
H. ZYZ: Yes, bitch! Slay the house down boots.
—
"My wife thinks he's taking it," Lyn reveals, cheeks flushing at the mention of their beloved. "I told her that it's way too early for her to choose a favorite, but she's locked in."
"I don't get the hype, personally." And it's not because Vangelis is jealous or anything. It's totally not because they've tried rollerskating over and over again, only to fall on their bony little ass while this district-born twink seems to be a natural. "Anybody can do that, I bet."
"Whatever you say, gayboy."
"I'm not a boy."
"Well you're still gay."
District Two is wildly different from One. They hold their reapings in a large coliseum where almost everybody dons the same outfit, dark gray pants and a matching jacket over a lighter gray shirt. It's like they're a military troupe, all united under the same goal: to return their district to its glorious state before the rebellion.
Mayor Sentinel Pershing appears in the center with their typical stern expression, while the escort, Tits Tickles, is the complete opposite. Behind them, all of Two's living victors stand in a line wearing matching red, silver, and black. Their expressions match Mayor Pershing's, save for Raptor Voinov who appears to be wigging the fuck out.
He's cross eyed, even with only one real eye, grabbing his mentor Vito's wrist like it's a lifeline preventing him from passing out on the ground. It certainly wouldn't be the most embarrassing thing Raptor's done on live television. While Vangelis understands the Raptor-haters around the Capitol, they've personally always had a strange fondness for him. What can they say? His lack of self-control and idiotic decisions are nearly captivating.
(Clearly, Vangelis has a type, okay? Whatever. Zenith outsells Raptor any day.)
Tits — what a great name — pulls a name from the reaping bowl, then proceeds to be shocked when Girmyr Shutzhund volunteers. Already, she seems a bit intense, running down to the center of the coliseum like a hyperactive puppy, a beaming smile on her face.
When the screen transitions to her in the train car, however, she seems a smidge apprehensive.
—
T. TICKLES: So, Gir… do you have anything to say to the viewers at home who are watching?
G. SCHUTZHUND: Does it have to be related to the Hunger Games?
T. TICKLES: Not if you don't want it to be, babes.
G. SCHUTZHUND: Okay, well I just wanted to remind my not-dad, Officer, that Sir-Bites-A-Lot has a tummy ache, so you shouldn't give him wet food for the next week.
T. TICKLES: Who is this Sir-Bites-A-Lot? I noticed you talked to Enobaria about him a lot during your first mentoring session.
G. SCHUTZHUND: Well, Tits, Sir is my favorite dog in the whole word. He is such a good boy, and he is so near and dear to me.
[A single tear rolls down her face.]
G. SCHUTZHUND: Sir, you better be on your bestest behavior, because I would hate to come home and find out you've been acting feisty without me.
—
"Wow," Lyn says with a cackle. "It seems like Gir really has that dog in her."
"Her?" Vangelis squints. "Are you sure Gir exclusively uses she/her pronouns? I don't know if I'm being presumptuous, but she's kind of serving genderweird."
Lyn pauses for a second, then aggressively shakes their head. "You know what? I totally see it. She officially stated she uses she/her, but hey, maybe six months in the Capitol will change her."
"What do you think she'll change her pronouns to?"
"They/she is my guess."
"Really?" Vangelis looks at Gir again, noting the slightly feral look in her eyes. "I'm putting my money on she/it. Kind of sounds like 'shit' if you say it too quickly, but I still think it suits Gir."
"I see that, actually."
The screen returns to the coliseum, and Tits pulls another name. This time, Tyrian Stone volunteers, his expression strikingly similar to Raptor's last year. Frantically, he grabs the microphone from Tits, and says, "Ophelia, I'll be there soon."
He's just as uptight when the screen shifts to him on the train.
—
T. TICKLES: You know, Tyrian. You remind me a lot of Raptor last year.
T. STONE: What? Why would you say that? Me and that guy have nothing in common.
T. TICKLES: I don't know. You seem equally brooding and moody to me.
T. STONE: I'm not moody. I'm just… pent up.
T. TICKLES: Is there anything in particular that's causing this?
T. STONE: You see, there's somebody in the Capitol who I'm looking for.
T. TICKLES: And who might that be?
T. STONE: My sister, Ophelia. I shouted her out at the reaping for a reason. I can only hope that she saw.
T. TICKLES: Well, it certainly seems important to you.
[A look of disapproval flashes across Tyrian's face.]
T. STONE: Of course it's important. She's my sister.
—
Remember what Vangelis was saying earlier about how they have a type? Yeah, Tyrian also fits it like a glove, but apparently he has a girlfriend — yuck!
"I already know that you like him." Lyn nods her head. "You made that abundantly clear earlier this evening."
"What can I say, I know what I'm after."
"That makes you sound like a perv."
Vangelis crosses their arms. "I am not a perv! I just recognize peak when I see it."
"Let's hope this country also does, because it would appear people aren't really fond of Tyrian. They say he and Raptor seem too similar."
"Personally, I don't mind that. I think he'd be pretty if he was covered in blood."
"Of course you think that."
District Three is famously even more pretentious than Two, but they at least seem happy on reaping day, smiles on the faces in the crowd as the camera pans through the courtyard of the university square. It's fairly modern, much like the rest of Three, glass buildings towering over the people from every angle.
Each of them houses a different academic subject that people who attend the university may study, but escort Touché Grahs is the opposite of scholarly. He's scantily clad in golden attire, and has bright pink makeup smeared on his cheeks. When he calls the first name, Claris Varsenova, dressed in a dark green gown with a matching graduation cap on her head, emerges from the crowd, the people around her standing up and clapping.
When the screen shifts to her sitting perfectly upright in the train car, there's a beaming smile painted on her face, her giant-puppy eyes even more prominent. Wow, she's just so adorable.
—
T. GRAHS: What brings you to the Hunger Games, Claris darling? I can't say I've seen a Tribute so radiant come out of Three in quite some time.
C. VARSENOVA: I appreciate the compliment, mister. I don't want to give everything about myself away right now, but I'll just say that I have something to fight for.
T. GRAHS: What might that something be?
C. VARSENOVA: You're rather insistent, aren't you?
T. GRAHS: It's just my job, doll.
C. VARSENOVA: Well, I'd mainly say that I'm fighting for myself, if that makes any sense to you?
T. GRAHS: You know, I can't say it does.
C. VARSENOVA: See, that's why I didn't want to tell you. It's hard to explain.
T. GRAHS: Well, I reckon you'll have plenty of time to explain yourself.
—
"She's so cute," Vangelis says, unable to stop themself from smiling.
"Truly." Lyn is grinning just as much, and Vangelis finds that they really like his smile when he's not being sarcastic. "I do wonder, how will she fair in the arena? She appears far less vicious than her fellow trained Tributes."
"Maybe Three is now teaching their kids how to kill people with kindness?" Vangelis offers. "Even if they definitely didn't teach Selah and Amaro that last year."
"I miss Selah." Lyn's smile suddenly fades. "You know who she reminds me of."
"Vanya. Your favorite thing to come out of District Three."
"Bingo!"
Personally, Vilhem is much more Vangelis' speed, but they won't fight her on that.
When the reaping ceremony appears on screen once more, the name Touché draws is quickly replaced by Leda Gero. They're dressed the same as Claris, but they immediately lack her warmth, their posture nearly robotic and their expression completely void of emotion.
Even when they shake Touché's hand, something seems off about them. The fact their face hasn't even changed a little bit when they're on the train is even more perplexing to Vangelis.
—
T. GRAHS: I asked this question to Claris, so I'll ask it to you too.
L. GERO: Asking us the same question? I would think that you have more range than that, with all due respect, which is very little at the present moment. Claris and I are very different people.
T. GRAHS: The Capitol will see that with time, but for now I want to set you up on a similar playing field. Do you understand that?
L. GERO: Hmm. I suppose so. What was your question?
T. GRAHS: What brings you to the Games?
L. GERO: I expect to win, of course. I have run a million different simulations in my mind, and in many of them, I come out of the arena alive.
T. GRAHS: Do you plan to tell your allies this?
L. GERO: If the topic comes up, I would not be opposed. Either way, it will be in their benefit to work with me, because I provide a unique skillset.
T. GRAHS: What might that be?
L. GERO: I am a medic. Have you seen how many trained kids mess up because they did not know how to treat their injuries? I plan to lessen that number amongst my allies.
T. GRAHS: I'd love to see you try.
—
"I do like that they're different," Vangelis admits. "A little off-putting, but definitely different."
"I think it depends on if they're actually as good at the whole medic thing as they claim they are." Lyn raises a brow. "Confidence is one thing, execution is another."
"I don't really see a reason to not believe what they say. Their conviction is incredibly strong."
"That I can definitely agree with."
Of the Districts that send in trained volunteers, Four's ceremony is by far the most casual. Even though it's nearly January, there's not a single cloud in the sky, and everybody is sitting in foldout chairs along the beaches of Havenside.
It reminds Vangelis that they really should go there on vacation someday.
Salmon Ella looks damn fierce with rolls of sushi in her hair, and everybody seems positively thrilled to see her. Still, when Sabine Kasabova volunteers, there's a somewhat somber look in her eyes. She doesn't look outright sad, per se, but there's definitely something off.
At the very least, she seems a bit happier when the scene flips to her on the train.
—
S. ELLA: Were you okay out there? You looked a bit nervous during the reaping.
S. KASABOVA: I'm fine, I promise. I was just a bit overwhelmed, that's all. We all have our moments.
S. ELLA: Well, if the reaping is overwhelming, that's bad news kid.
S. KASABOVA: Excuse me? Do you get paid to be mean?
S. ELLA: From here on out, things are going to get a lot more intimidating.
S. KASABOVA: I know that, I was just caught up in the moment, I guess.
S. ELLA: Do you think you'll get caught up in the moment even more in the Capitol.
[Sabine shrugs with heavy exaggeration.]
S. KASABOVA: Well, I don't think I'm a fish… so I certainly hope I'm not caught.
—
"Get it, Vangie?" Lyn is laughing so hard, it's like she's on the verge of tears. "Caught… because District Four, which means… fishing."
"Yeah, it's really not that funny," they deadpan. "Four is like the easiest district to make puns out of."
"Well then," Lyn scoffs. "I'd like to see you try and make one."
"Okay bet," Vangelis starts. "What's the difference between a fish and a piano?"
"Dude, be so for real."
"That's not what you're supposed to say. You're supposed to ask me 'what.'"
"You can tune a piano but you can't tuna fish," Lyn deadpans. "Everybody's heard that one before."
"Okay, well whatever." It's going to take Vangelis a lot of nerve to not be offended by this. "Thoughts on Sabine?"
"I think she's sweet."
"Yeah, same. Do you think she might get on well with Claris?"
"That feels too predictable." Lyn subtly winks at the camera. "I think we're just going to have to wait and see."
When Adina Ofek volunteers next, she receives a ginormous round of applause. She's sat in the middle of three girls her age, and she gives each of them a massive kiss, probably with tongue, on the lips. Wow, Vangelis thinks. Way to uphold the stereotype that all lesbians from District Four are massive sluts.
It's clear that Adina doesn't give a damn about any of the girls because once she heads to the center, she kisses Sabine's hand like she's a brand new bitch. Vangelis sighs — there better not be even more toxic yuri that involves District Four. That's like so overplayed.
On the train, she's manspreading, a devil-may-care grin as Salmon sits down next to her for an interview.
—
S. ELLA: So, what are you looking forward to most in the Capitol?
A. OFEK: Am I allowed to say everything? Gosh, it seems so different from District Four. I just can't wait!
S. ELLA: Okay, but can you name one thing in particular?
A. OFEK: I hear the buildings are massive. It would be so much fun to climb to the very top of one and see the view.
S. ELLA: Really? You're excited for buildings?
A. OFEK: What do you want me to say?
S. ELLA: I don't know… that you're excited to meet hot sexy Capitolite MILFs?
A. OFEK: Actually, I can't say that I'm a MILF hunter. I like my ladies young and feisty, provided they can handle my spice.
S. ELLA: You're impossible.
A. OFEK: Yeah, and you're going to have to deal with me forever because I'm winning, baby.
—
"She's going to be a handful," Lyn says. "And I definitely mean that in a good way."
"Yeah, she gives me 'causes problems on purpose' energy, I can't lie." That, and Vangelis likes that Adina clearly means business. There's something infectious about her energy. If they weren't so gay, they'd definitely want to hit.
Then again, she's clearly not the sort of person who'd want to get with anybody besides a beautiful woman, especially not Vangelis. What a shameful hypothetical situation, huh?
"Are you ready to watch District Five?" Lyn asks, caution in their tone. "I know it's definitely an experience to say the least."
"That's got to be the longest reaping in history."
"Oh, absolutely. It's not even close."
Thankfully, it at least starts off as a normal ceremony. It's held in Five's city center, surrounded by skyscrapers that are a bit more brutalist than Three's, but at the same time seem poorly constructed.
When Anita Bussy, covered head-to-toe in white paint, save for their giant acrylic nails and smoldering smoky eye, reap Andromeda Vivaldi, nothing goes wrong. They seem slightly pissed off at first, but they quickly regain their composure and head to the stage with a smug expression.
Even on the train, considering the events that proceeded after they were reaped, Andi is calm, cool, and collected, with a certain swagger to them that's impossible to replicate.
—
A. BUSSY: So, Mx. Vivaldi.
A. VIVALDI: So…. Mx. Bussy.
A. BUSSY: If you had to pick one thing to be your "talent" for the Capitol audience, what would it be?
A. VIVALDI: Well, I'd have to go with the violin.
A. BUSSY: Actually, can you pick a different talent? Mr. Sciarra already claimed the violin as his talent.
A. VIVALDI: Sorry, what?
A. BUSSY: I talked to him before you and he said he's a violinist.
A. VIVALDI: You mean, he can talk?
A. BUSSY: Why wouldn't they be able to?
A. VIVALDI: Dunno, I assumed the only way he communicated was by brooding in corners and trying not to cry.
A. BUSSY: That sounds like something you'll need to communicate to him.
A. VIVALDI: Oh trust me, Balls and I will be communicating alright. Put me down for ballroom dance.
—
"Yeah, they've got drip." Vangelis nods their head, admiring the purple suit that Andi is wearing. "I recognize a fellow bad bitch when I see one."
"In what world are you a bad bitch?" Lyn sticks their tongue out. "You'll never be as cool as Andi, so why even try?"
"Did you know that if I asked my mom really nicely, I could have you killed?"
"No you couldn't. Arisa doesn't love you that much."
"Ouch."
Vangelis knows that he's kidding, but it still stings a bit. At times, they worry that they're not the child their moms were expecting, even though Senna has constantly reassured them that they're everything she could possibly want and more. They're just violently aware that sometimes they're simply too much for people, even if they can't magically change their personality.
But that's way too sad a thing to think about right now. Though, it's not nearly as sad as Anita calling Balor Sciarra's name, only for nobody to emerge from the audience.
A clock appears on the screen, and it shifts to a time lapse. On one side, there's Andi and Anita having a conversation. Eventually, they're joined by Journey Fowler, District Twelve's sole victor, who reports to his homeland of Five to mentor every year. On the other side of the screen, several squadrons of Peacekeepers are running around the city of Apastron. By the time two hours have passed on the clock, the Peacekeepers have ventured into the slums, and they knock down a door to reveal Balor half-naked, passed out on the floor of a messy apartment, with empty pill bottles surrounding him.
They're a sickly creature, clearly agitated by the sudden home invasion, but also too out of it to say anything. A Peacekeeper drags him out of the house by the right wrist, violently slamming them against one of the stairs. Balor shrieks in agony, then tightly wraps their left arm against their chest. When they appear in the train car, that same arm is wrapped in a cast.
—
A. BUSSY: So, would you like to talk about what happened?
B. SCIARRA: I already told you that I play the violin, now can you do me a favor and fuck off."
—
"Well… was that just as weird the second time?" Lyn asks Vangelis, who is laughing in their pile of pillows.
"I don't even know what to say. What the hell happened to him?"
"Nothing good."
"Yeah, I figured that much out."
"Do you think we should be afraid of him?" Brooding bad boys are usually capable of atrocities after all. "I feel like they could do something really fucked up."
"I don't think he has the will to live, if I'm being perfectly honest."
"Well, that'll make the Games easier for them at least."
Vangelis yawns. They always forget how boring the recaps can be after a while, and they're not even halfway done yet. Luckily, every district after Five doesn't take much time. There's no fancy camera work, showing the scenery and what not, because all of the other poorer districts are kind of fucking ugly. Nobody needs to see all of that!
So, there's no fluff when Honda Civic reaps Hudson Pierce, and a young girl comes on stage. She's clearly overwhelmed, bouncing on the balls of her feet, but she's kind of the cutest thing in the world. She's wearing thick denim overalls and her long golden hair is in two braids. Who knew poor people could slay like this? Vangelis swears, they ask this question every year. Maybe, they're finally coming to terms with classism and their own inherent biases, a necessary first step before they can correct this behavior, but eh, who are they kidding… probably not.
Anyways… she's a lot more chill about the whole being-reaped thing once she's on the train, so that's good for her.
—
H. CIVIC: Hudson, you seem to be in much better spirits than you were a few hours ago.
H. PIERCE: Can you blame me? There's a lot of initial shock in being told that you're going to be torn away from your home for six months, and you might not ever get to come back.
H. CIVIC: Well, when you put it like that…
H. PIERCE: Don't go and act like you're sorry for me, please.
H. CIVIC: Oh, well, I'm not.
[Hudson dramatically squints at him, trying to hide clear upset.]
H. CIVIC: Did I startle you?
H. PIERCE: No, I'm fine now. I'm absolutely fine. The next six months are going to be great!
H. CIVIC: Aw, well I'm happy that you think that.
H. PIERCE: Don't you dare underestimate me, folks at home. I'm Hudson Pierce and you can either call me Hudcap or Lil' Huddy. Put some darn respect on my name because you'll be seeing a lot of me whether you like it or not!
[She squats on the floor and flashes a pair of peace signs close to the camera.]
—
"I always feel bad watching the little kids act so confident," Lyn admits. "You just know they're never going to get far."
"Why do you have to be such a bitch, huh? Mahina made it to the final two just last year."
"Well yes, but then she jumped off a building and killed herself because she was so afraid of what would happen if Raptor killed her himself."
"Details, details." Vangelis swats the air. "You always have your ridiculous details."
When Soran Ditchlight is reaped, he looks like he's a deer in the headlights, not that Vangelis has ever seen a deer in real life before. He's wearing a suit that fits him like a glove — it's way too nice for a District Six bum, so he must be somebody important. That, or he spent his life savings on an outfit, which well, if Vangelis was poor, they would certainly relate.
Like Hudson, Soran's much more collected on the train.
—
H. CIVIC: How do you feel about your odds, now that we're on our way to the Capitol?
[Soran pushes up a pair of glasses that have somehow found their way on his face. Light reflects across them.]
S. DITCHLIGHT: Well, you could say that I have a strategy.
H. CIVIC: Do you have any details you feel comfortable sharing?
S. DITCHLIGHT: A guy like me likes to keep his cards close to his chest, but let's just say it involves networking… and trickle-down economics.
H. CIVIC: Oh, well now you've really piqued my interest!
S. DITCHLIGHT: Yeah, I figured you'd say something like that. Unrelated, but do you know if there's a podcast studio in the Capitol?
H. CIVIC: I'm sure we could find one, why?
S. DITCHLIGHT: I have some advice that the people really need to know.
—
"He sounds like my brother," Lyn immediately says. "Like, exactly, like my brother."
Vangelis tilts their head. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Well, it's definitely a thing."
The District Seven reaping begins with Kalorie Kounter drawing Malus Mortimer-Bowery's name. The boy is abnormally tall for somebody from the sixteens section — he's got to be at least Vangelis' height, which is six foot two, thank you very much.
He's also fairly built. If it weren't for the sheepish, confused look on his face, Vangelis would think Malus is a dangerous threat, but even on the train, he looks like a dork.
—
K. KOUNTER: So, Malus, if you could say one thing to the people at home, what would you say?
M. MORTIMER-BOWERY: Wait, I can talk about anything?
K. KOUNTER: Yes. Whatever you want.
M. MORTIMER-BOWERY: Even if I wanted to talk about insects?
K. KOUNTER: Yes. Please, do us the honor and tell us something about insects.
M. MORTIMER-BOWERY: That's very broad. There are so many things I can talk about. What if you told me your favorite insect, and I gave you a fun fact about it?
K. KOUNTER: Okay, sure. That works. I like butterflies.
M. MORTIMER-BOWERY: What kind?
K. KOUNTER: The orange ones.
M. MORTIMER-BOWERY: Ah yes, the monarch butterfly. Did you know that monarchs eat poisonous milkweed during their larval stage, which is stored in the body. The poison, cardiac glycosides, causes predators to vomit, although it rarely causes death.
K. KOUNTER: No I did not, but thank you for sharing.
—
Vangelis smiles. "Aw, he's quirky. I can't say I understand the bug obsession, but he's quirky. "
"I mean, you certainly bug me," Lyn teases.
"And yet you still invite me on your show, time and time again."
"We all do things we don't like, Vangie."
They roll their eyes. "Yes, such as taking me clubbing, buying me clothes, sharing a bag of coke that one time…"
"You understand me."
When Seventh Woods (what a name) is reaped, there's a brief moment where he seems petrified. Almost like an actor, however, they shift into somebody completely different, putting a hand on his hips and strutting down to the stage like a fashion model. Their beaming smile makes the camera lens glare and they shake Kalorie's hand with glee.
On the train, Seventh is relaxing, just as confident as he seemed on stage.
—
K. KOUNTER: You seem to be in good spirits, huh.
S. WOODS: Of course I am. I mean, I finally get to see the Capitol. That's all I've ever dreamed about, Mr. Kounter.
K. KOUNTER: Well, I certainly hope that it lives up to the hype for you.
S. WOODS: Oh, I know it will. I just hope the lovely people like me.
K. KOUNTER: Do you have something in particular that you plan to impress them with? I know from experience that that goes a long way.
S. WOODS: Why of course. You see, I'm a performer. I plan on giving the Capitolites the best show they've ever seen.
K. KOUNTER: A performer? Ah, I see. Is there anything you'd say you're particularly good at?
S. WOODS: I can juggle axes. I know what you're thinking, of course, Seventh Woods from District Seven has a lumberjack adjacent talent, but trust me man, you're going to be completely stunned.
K. KOUNTER: Well, I'm Kalorie, and I'm definitely counting on it.
S. WOODS: Oh, Mr. Kounter. You're so hilarious.
—
"I always love seeing people from lesser districts act so excited to see the Capitol." Lyn pretends to wipe a tear from her eye. "It really warms the heart, y'know."
Vangelis swats away their own fake tears. "And aren't we just so generous for letting them enjoy a life of luxury for six whole months?"
"The most generous. Y'know, I see a lot of potential from Seventh."
"So do I. It'd be really cool if he threw an axe into an unsuspecting Tribute's head!"
"Even if they don't do that, I have faith that they'll be entertaining nevertheless."
The cameras don't even bother showing the crowd in Eight. Absolutely nobody needs, or wants to see just how terrible the conditions are. Instead, Cordura Faux is the center focus, and she looks just as cunt as she always does with a large golden crown resting on her head.
When Urethra Franklin pulls the first name, Corvina Nyx, a loud proclamation of "you fucking assholes," can be heard from afar. After that, a hunched-over blond girl takes the stage with a look of shame and regret.
The screen shifts to her on the train, where she's sleeping on one of the plush chairs, not even crossing her legs like a proper lady. Personally, Vangelis doesn't give a shit about manners, but somebody else in the Capitol probably will.
—
U. FRANKLIN: Cora. Hey, Cora.
[Xe walks over to her and gently taps her on the shoulder.]
U. FRANKLIN: Cora, you have to wake up. You're being interviewed.
[Xe taps her again and still, nothing.]
U. FRANKLIN: Cora, it's time for dinner!
[Cora snaps awake.]
C. NYX: Sorry, did somebody say dinner?
U. FRANKLIN: I did, but I also lied.
C. NYX: Damn, why'd you do that?
U. FRANKLIN: Well, I've been trying to interview you, but you fell asleep.
C. NYX: Sleep… that's so nice.
[Cora slouches on the couch and closes her eyes, as if that interaction never happened.]
—
Vangelis sighs. "Now that's a fat fucking mood. Don't get me wrong, she's totally going to eat shit, but that was relatable as hell."
"I personally found it disrespectful," Lyn says. "And please, Vangie, don't tell me you're going to fall asleep on me. Is it past your bedtime or something?"
"Fuck off. I promise, I won't fall asleep."
"I'll hold you to that, then."
Urethra reaps Doverina Polveri next. When she first emerges from the crowd, there's a tight shot on her face and it looks like she's about to cry. Quickly, she shakes her head and takes a deep breath, then walks to the stage with a more calm demeanor. She looks at Uretha with a soft smile, however when she goes to shake xer hand, there's something sharp and sinister in her eyes.
The soft smile stays on Dove's face when she's on the train. She looks friendly and approachable, like somebody easy to befriend.
—
D. POLVERI: First off, Mx. Franklin, I wanted to apologize for my initial tears. I'm sure you understand why I was a bit shocked.
U. FRANKLIN: Thank you, Dove. You've been nothing but pleasant ever since, so you are more than forgiven. Your district partner on the other hand…
D. POLVERI: Oh, there's no need to speak ill of her. She's probably just overwhelmed, and really, who could blame her.
U. FRANKLIN: I guess that does make sense, but this isn't about her. It's about you, Dove — I'm glad to see you're feeling better.
D. POLVERI: You were the one who brought up Cora in the first place, but I can forgive you the same way you forgave me. That aside, I'm thrilled at the prospect of seeing the Capitol. Will I last long? That I'm not too sure of, Mx. Franklin, but I assure you, I'm more than grateful for the experience.
U. FRANKLIN: Don't get your hopes down, Dove.
D. POLVERI: Oh, I'm not. I'm just being realistic.
U. FRANKLIN: Well, if you continue to be your lovely self, I don't think you'll run into too many issues.
—
"She's a sweetheart," Lyn says. "Honestly, bless her heart."
"Yeah, there's really not much else to say about her." Vangelis nods. "Not sure how far she'll go, but she seems nice."
"I mean, Cordura could be planning to teach her a thing or two."
"Mommy," Vangelis moans. "Actually, sorry. I just don't say things like that."
"You're gay, remember."
"Oh, I'm more than aware."
There's not much that's known about District Nine, so their tributes always strike a particular interest with Vangelis. What can they say, sometimes they love a good mystery. Cotton-Eyed Hoe reaps Asphodel Zegota first, and he definitely fits that bill.
"They said my name," he loudly exclaims as he walks toward the stage, his face so deeply confused. "Look at that, I guess I'm going on vacation."
The camera zooms into their eyes and well, there's no beating around the bush — he looks high as hell. Honestly, good for him.
Even on the train, when he's presumably sobered up, they wear a whimsical expression.
—
A. ZEGOTA: Wait, can you tell me where we're going again?
C. HOE: To the Capitol. Like I've told you. A hundred times.
A. ZEGOTA: The capital of what?
C. HOE: Panem. You know, the country where we live.
[Asphodel bursts out into laughter.]
A. ZEGOTA: You said cunt! My Ma said that's a bad word that you should never use. Whoops! I just said it. Your name has the word hoe, by the way, which is another word you shouldn't use. Oh my goodness, I just said that too!
C. HOE: Asphodel, please be serious.
A. ZEGOTA: Um, I am being serious.
C. HOE: So you genuinely don't know what the Capitol is?
A. ZEGOTA: You are such a funny man and you say so many funny things.
C. HOE: I actually use he/they pronouns.
A. ZEGOTA: OMG! Me too!
—
Okay, so maybe they haven't sobered up. That, or they have special needs, or something like that.
"They're an idiot," Lyn declares. "An absolute idiot."
"Or they're stoned."
"Lucky."
"I know, right?"
Compared to Asphodel, everything about Shiloh Bailey is far more benign. He's blank faced, which is typical District Nine cryptid behavior for sure, yet there's an aura of calmness about him. It's almost like he had a sinking feeling this would be happening to him, and while he's devastated, he also accepts it.
When he's on the train, Shiloh's eyes are filled with wonder.
—
C. HOE: What about the Capitol would you say you're most excited about?
S. BAILEY: Honestly sir, I've never thought about the Capitol before.
C. HOE: You know it exists though, right? You're not like Asphodel?
S. BAILEY: No, I'm well aware of the Capitol and the Games. I just never really considered life outside of Nine to be something in my future. At least, not until recently.
C. HOE: Is there any particular reason for that?
S. BAILEY: Of course, but I'd rather keep it to myself.
C. HOE: You know, that's not going to fly once you're in the Capitol.
S. BAILEY: Really? Why not?
C. HOE: They're going to want to know everything about you, and they expect you to tell them what they want to hear.
S. BAILEY: Is it mandatory?
C. HOE: If you don't want to die, yes.
S. BAILEY: Alrighty then. I'll share my story with the Capitol when the time arrives.
—
"He's so phlegmatic," Vangelis points out. "It's kind of suspicious, don't you think?"
"Did you have to use an adjective with "phlegm" in it?" Lyn starts violently coughing, but it's clearly just him pretending. "You know that I have asthma."
"It's just the word that best encompasses Shiloh."
"Personally, I was thinking he's submissive and breedable. Him and Asphodel would have a lot of fun being vaguely clueless together."
"I suppose you're entitled to your own opinion, but I just think you're wrong." They shake their head. "Shiloh has potential. What that means, I guess we'll just have to wait and see."
Ten's reaping is somewhat eventful, though not as much as Five's was. Tora Hymen calls out Song-yi Bright's name, and immediately, she starts cursing and screaming. The camera pans to her, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, with handcuffs on, as she's dragged onto the stage, growling like a rabid dog that needs to be taken out back and shot. At least she's a sexy rabid dog though.
Once onstage, Song-yi rams into Tora, knocking it backwards. It falls to the ground, lets out an aggrieved sigh, then slowly clambers back to their feat. When they're on the train with Song-yi, its pasty white skin is covered in bandages, and it looks pissed as hell. Song-yi, on the other hand, wears a smug smile with pride.
—
T. HYMEN: Would you like to tell the people of Panem why you pushed me?
S. BRIGHT: Nah, not really.
T. HYMEN: Then would you like to tell me why you pushed me.
S. BRIGHT: Unsure. Mainly, I just felt like it.
T. HYMEN: I can't stand you.
S. BRIGHT: Okay, so sit.
[Tora runs up to the camera and covers it with its hand.]
—
"I don't think your mother is going to like the fact that lots of people are really into her," Lyn says.
Solemnly, Vangelis shakes their head. "It's really quite a shame, because Song-yi is that bitch."
"There's just something about the way she cares so little."
"Exactly. It almost makes me want to provoke her to see if she'll tear through me like she did Tora Hymen."
"Vangelis, you don't have a hymen."
"There is absolutely zero reason why you need to be saying this on national television."
"It's funny." Lyn smirks. "And everybody loves me."
Compared to Song-yi's, Millicent Kana's reaction to getting reaped is incredibly calm. Yes, she's shaking like a wet cat, and based on her face there are probably a million different things going on in her head, but at least she didn't physically assault somebody.
Not much appears to have changed once she's on the train. If anything, she looks even more upset, tearstains on her cheeks.
—
T. HYMEN: Aww, Millie, why are you so upset?
M. KANA: I'd strongly prefer it if you called me by full name.
T. HYMEN: Okay. I can do that. Millicent, what's the matter.
M. KANA: I don't deserve to die.
T. HYMEN: You're not dying, calm down. You have six whole months.
M. KANA: Yes, and after that, there is a very high chance that I will die, which I don't deserve.
T. HYMEN: Isn't that a tragedy?
M. KANA: Yes, obviously. Which is why I'm clearly upset about it.
T. HYMEN: But I already told you, you're not dying. At least not yet.
M. KANA: So you're talking to me like that, and you just expect me to respond positively. You basically told me that I'm going to die.
T. HYMEN: You don't need to dwell on it.
M. KANA: Well, you don't need to talk to me like that.
—
"Why is she such a pissbaby?" Vangelis asks. "We're literally being so nice to her and she's just acting ungrateful."
"I can't stand tributes like her." Lyn crosses their arms. "We are being so historically nice to them this year and yet. It's a shame if you ask me — an absolute shame."
"Hopefully she realizes how lucky she is soon."
"Yeah, she'd better."
Thankfully, Perry Kusuma from District Eleven seems to be more grateful. When The Duchess calls her name, she simply shrugs, then nonchalantly walks through the aisles and onstage. Vangelis is always really nervous when witnessing an Eleven reaping, ever since the Chandler fiasco. Speaking of him, there's a slightly confused look on his face as he watches Perry, like he also doesn't know how she can be so calm.
Even on the train, her expression is certainly not one of somebody reaped for the Hunger Games. Vangelis really likes that for her.
—
T. DUCHESS: So, you seem relatively normal, now don't you?
P. KUSUMA: What's that supposed to mean?
T. DUCHESS: Well, there was some drama a bit ago, and I'm kind of still kind of reeling.
P. KUSUMA: Wasn't that five and a half years ago?
T. DUCHESS: It was very traumatizing, okay.
P. KUSUMA: Okay, yes. I'll pretend to understand.
T. DUCHESS: What was your life like five and a half years ago? As I'm sure you know, there were all of the riots after Chandler won.
P. KUSUMA: Five and a half years ago, things were actually pretty good.
T. DUCHESS: Really?
P. KUSUMA: Yep. I had my family and my girl, and I was happy.
T. DUCHESS: Is that different from now?
P. KUSUMA. Very.
T. DUCHESS: Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that.
P. KUSUMA: No need to apologize. I survived for a reason, after all.
—
"She's already deeply underrated I fear," Vangelis declares. "She just seems like she has such a good head on her shoulders."
"Honestly, I think anybody has a good head on their shoulders compared to her partner," Lyn replies.
"Yeah, that's fair enough."
When The pulls Charles Montgomery Cisco's name, immediately, the kid starts laughing like a maniac. His cackles fill the city square so loudly, Chandler has to cover his ears. Charlie does a little dance when he comes on stage, one that makes Vangelis genuinely fear for his mental stability.
He's practically bouncing off his chair in the train, sticking out his tongue and swaying side to side.
—
T. DUCHESS: Can you like, calm down, kid?
C. CISCO: Why should I be calm when there's a wonderful adventure ahead of me?
T. DUCHESS: You're going to be on this train for twenty-four more hours. If you don't chill out, you'll lose all your energy.
C. CISCO: Well, I have energy toward endless bounds, so please take that frown and turn it upside downs.
T. DUCHESS: Are you a poet? Wow, that's just lovely.
C. CISCO: I reckon I'm more of a musician. Would you like to hear my song? I brought my trusty musty dusty violin.
T. DUCHESS: Actually, I'm going to pass on that.
C. CISCO: Do you think anybody in the Capitol will want to hear me play?
T. DUCHESS: Not in the talent show, that's for sure.
C. CISCO: But playing the violin is my most special talent!
T. DUCHESS: Yeah, well, I heard from my friend Anita who's with District Five that both her kids play the violin, and unfortunately there can only be one of each talent.
C. CISCO: Well then, it looks like I'm a poet.
T. DUCHESS: Indeed it does.
—
"He's going to annoy me," Vangelis announces.
Lyn chuckles. "Is that because he's a lot like you?"
"You can't just say that, dude."
"Why? Are you going to threaten to execute me again?"
"Ugh, probably not."
The Capitol doesn't show footage of the District Twelve reaping because nobody needs to see that horrible place or know what they do. However, according to Journey, who Vangelis spoke with once, apparently they don't even have a ceremony. One of the guards draws the names privately, then goes to collect those chosen from their cells. They're unworthy of an escort to help them settle in, after all. All the general public gets to see are their names, faces, and crimes.
Their train isn't as nice as the others, or even close to nice. It's just a musty car with two cots, one for each tribute, and a small table with food. Because there's no interview, they've instead been forced to stand against a wall and introduce themselves.
But first, the screen shows the first boy's headshot. He looks panicked, but at the same time like he's trying to hold himself together.
—
JALEN DESPRES [16 — HE/HIM]
SON OF JESSIKA AND RAOL DESPRES
MOTHER'S CHARGES:
• Homicide (x17)
• Obstruction of Justice
• Aggravated Assault (x38)
• Physical Acts of Rebellion (x105)
FATHER'S CHARGES
• Theft over $10,000
• Possession of a Controlled Substance
• Possession of an Unauthorized Firearm
• Fraud
• Physical Acts of Rebellion (x27)
—
Then, the second boy's face appears. Unlike Jalen, he seems relaxed, even though there's a hint of terror in his eyes.
—
SATIN TESSARO [15 — HE/HIM]
CHARGES:
• Arson - Destruction of Property
• Arson - Disregard for Human Life
• Possession of Incendiary Material
• Participating in Activity of Terrorist Group
• Conspiracy to Commit an Indictable Offense
—
Next, the boys are displayed against a blank wall, both doing their best to not seem scared shitless, and both not really succeeding.
—
J. DESPRES: Hi. I'm Jalen Despres.
S. TESSARO: Sup, I'm Satin — not Satan — Tessaro.
J. DESPRES: I guess we're going to talk to you now and introduce ourselves. I just wanted to say, first and foremost, I hope you're having a good day and you've been drinking water and staying hydrated.
S. TESSARO: Do you really give a fuck?
J. DESPRES: I mean, I'm just being polite.
S. TESSARO: These people all hate us, dude. No need to butter them up.
J. DESPRES: Maybe I want them to like me.
S. TESSARO: I'm sure you do, but don't count on it.
J. DESPRES: Okay, well, I'm still going to try.
S. TESSARO: Suit yourself, but know you're setting yourself up for failure.
J. DESPRES: I think you're the one doing that, acting so nonchalant about the whole thing.
S. TESSARO: It's just the Hunger Games. It's really not a big deal. We've both seen worse in Twelve, trust.
J. DESPRES: Well, at least we weren't at risk of death!
S. TESSARO: Oh, I don't plan on dying here.
J. DESPRES: Neither do I.
S. TESSARO: That's going to be a problem, isn't it?
J. DESPRES: For you, yes it will be
—
"Well, what do you think?" Vangelis asks Lyn, who must've disassociated the entire time.
"Huh?" Their head is spinning. "Are they done talking yet?"
"Yeah, they're done."
"Cool. That means there's only one District to go and then we can get the fuck out of here."
Wow Platinum, in all hir silver-haired glory stands on the stage with a comically oversized microphone. Dramatically, ze pulls Atlas Triste's name from the bowl, and the camera pans to the lad in question. Atlas's eyes go wide in utter shock and they grab the two people they're sitting next to tightly. He takes a few deep breaths, then trembles down the aisle. Once on stage, Atlas dramatically falls on their back.
Vangelis isn't concerned though. They know exactly what Atlas just did, a death drop — werk! Wow is similarly gagged, putting a hand over hir mouth. When the two of them are together on the train, it's like they're old friends.
—
W. PLATINUM: Alright, and now it's time for the Wow Show!
A. TRISTE: Yeah, I guess you could say it's Wow Time!
W. PLATINUM: So, bitch, tell me, what are you planning to do in the Capitol?
A. TRISTE: I'm planning to slay, obviously.
W. PLATINUM: Honey, you always slay.
A. TRISTE: Thanks, diva!
W. PLATINUM: What would you say is the thing you are most slay at?
A. TRISTE: As the dolls often say, I have a passion for fashion!
W. PLATINUM: Yes, bitch! Period.
A. TRISTE: Speaking off, I noticed your pants are a bit saggy. Is that like a Capitol fashion trend or what?
W. PLATINUM: Oh, you clocked me. I must admit, I've been slacking lately.
A. TRISTE: Well, I suppose I'll have to give you the Atlas Triste experience then and find you an outfit that looks better.
W. PLATINUM: Oh, well, I'd be honored!
—
"Love them," Vangelis exclaims. "Love, love, love Mr. Atlas Triste."
"Really?" Lyn raises a brow. "I honestly thought you were going to hate him because he's a bit like you."
"Next time just call me a slur, okay?"
"I just mean that he's basically a Capitolite."
"Yeah, well he also has anxiety and I would never have anxiety, so jot that down mmkay?"
"Sure, whatever." Lyn rolls their eyes.
On the screen, Wow calls for Bequeral Ivanov. A small, perfectly symmetrical little girl emerges from the very back of the crowd, looking somewhat shocked. Finally, a twelve-year-old. There was a serious lack of age diversity up until now.
She runs down the aisles with an enthusiastic smile, like she can't believe what's happening. Is this really how Thirteens act when faced with the prospect of actually getting to go above ground and see light for the first time? Honestly, good for them.
The scene switches to show Bex on the train, sitting right next to Wow. Again, you'd think they know each other better than they do.
—
B. IVANOV: How many more minutes until we get there, Wow?
W. PLATINUM: Oh Bex, babes. We've still got over a day to go.
B. IVANOV: Really? Ugh, why does it have to take forever?
W. PLATINUM: That's just how fast the trains go.
B. IVANOV: The lightrail in Thirteen is way faster actually.
W. PLATINUM: Well, it's not covering nearly as much ground as this train is.
B. IVANOV: Oh, really? Huh, I suppose that does make sense.
W. PLATINUM: Did they not teach you this in school?
B. IVANOV: They might've, but I wasn't paying attention.
W. PLATINUM: You know that's not something to brag about, right?
B. IVANOV: Ugh, stop being so boring! The point of all of this is that I'm really excited to be going to the Capitol, okay?
W. PLATINUM: Oh, I'm sure. What would you say you're most looking forward to?
B. IVANOV: Is it alright if I say everything?
—
"She's so cute, it makes me want to eat glass," Lyn deadpans.
"Please don't," Vangelis says. "I think I would actually miss you."
"She's just… so baby. It almost makes me question the ethics of the Hunger Games. Emphasis on almost, don't worry."
"Yeah, ultimately she is District-born."
Lyn looks solemnly off into the distance, then quickly regains their usual perkiness. "Well, Vangelis, if you had one word to describe this year's tributes, what would it be?"
They don't even have to think about it. "Cunty!"
"I was going to say show stopping, but that works too."
"Oh, but my sweet sweet Lyn Guini, you know the show isn't stopping."
"That's right!" Their eyes widen. "We're always watching!"
"And when does our coverage return?"
"What do you mean our coverage?"
"Don't you want me to be there," Vangelis pleads. "I promise, I'll make everything super fun and exciting."
"Yeah, obviously." Lyn enthusiastically shakes her head. "I'm just trying to joke around."
"Good, because I am the dirt under your nails, pasta-head. You're never getting rid of me."
"That's such a weird line."
"I know, right."
"We can't end our show like that," Lyn says.
"Of course not. It would be so underwhelming."
He smiles. "Well, to bid you farewell, I guess I'll give you a sneak peak at what you can expect from this dynamic duo tomorrow. All the tributes will be here in the Capitol by the afternoon, and Vangelis is going to introduce them to their moms before they head into Simulacra!"
"You bet I will!" Vangelis practically jumps out of the pillows. "Get hyped because the Centurial Clash isn't going anywhere."
"Again," Lyn bemoans. "We're always watching!"
Yes, Wow Platinum is a reference to Megalopolis (2024), directed by Francis Ford Copalla. I fucking hated that movie and gave it 1.5 stars on letterboxd. Wow was easily the best part of the movie, and not just because I'm in love with Aubrey Plaza. Actually, that's exactly why.
You may think you spotted an Arcane reference too, but you would be gravely mistaken. There's actually only one season of Arcane.
I have an exciting new opportunity to get involved with the story. That's right! I've decided to open submissions for Capitolites who will make cameos throughout the extended Pre-Games portion of the story. They will also get to make exciting decisions that will affect the Tribute's experiences in the arena!
I'll be accepting most of these probably., so here's your excuse to go absolutely buckwild. There are no age and gender restrictions either! Submissions for these Capitolites will close on 1/7/2025 at 11:59 PST.
You can find the form and more information at tiny . cc / sv-capitolites
Anyway, hopefully that kept you entertained and mildly uncomfortable. Thank you Erik for coming back to beta-land. Fridays are update days again if you even care. Next week is goodbyes so be excited for that and know it all takes place before these mini train interviews.
Q: Did you see Wicked? What did you think? Didn't Jonathan Bailey's ass look amazing? Do you ship Gelphie?
Linds. Laugh. Love.