It hasn't been very long since my friend contacted me and said "I want you to write a femslash." So, here it is. Kind of a random idea, along with random pairing, but things will fall into place eventually. Until then, enjoy, Hunger Games femslash readers. XD I was so disappointed by the lack of Hunger Games femslash on fanfiction.

Author: Amethyst Trinket

Rating: M

Pairing: District 4 girl/ District 8 girl (I'm on crack, yes.)

Warnings: Eventual smut (including lemon), language, femslash, violence, eventual torture (hopefully graphic), and my messed up mind.

Alianna Gerald, District 8

"STOP IT!" I blink open my eyes, rather hesitantly, at the all too familiar voice of my sister. A clatter sounds from the kitchen. Ever so slowly, I start to sit upward, propping my hands on the rock-solid mattress behind me as I slide into a sitting position.

"You worthless-"-smack- "bitch. It's all your fault he's dead! ALL YOUR FAULT!" He's drunk again. You can tell from the slurring of his tone, the way his shadow against the wall is hunched over and stumbling as it moves around. I hear a gasping, and the creak of floorboards as my sister falls to the ground.

Truth is, it wasn't her fault at all. It's just the day. It's hard on him, since Arielle looks almost exactly like Aleric. Since Aleric died last year. And today's the day of another death sentence. Reaping day.

I stand up, clamber over to the filthy dresser that holds half our belongings. Light filters in through the cracks in the wood of our family's home- a run-down tenement barely fit for living. The door is a crawlspace, the floor is pure dirt. The whole structure threatens to crumble every time the wind blows. Really.

I rummage through the different drawers for a few minutes, looking for the dress. It's a light purple color, with white trimmings. Used to be Arielle's, when she was fourteen. Fit her much better.

I pull out the thing, brushing the dirt off of the fabric before setting it down atop the counter next to the bed. Arielle storms into the room behind me, and I whirl to face her. She's been crying; her eyes are red and puffy. There's a mark left on the side of her face, where Dad had probably struck her.

"Morning, Alianna." She whispers. I nod to her, unsure of what to say. I guess there's not really anything I can say, so I just nod again, before turning around, glancing toward the bathroom. I walk shakily toward it, my legs threatning to collapse under the weight of my upper body. Almost all the furniture inside the tiny room is broken. The mirror is scarred over. My reflection is perfected by a long, jagged crack, running vertically down the center of the glass. I turn away, reaching my hand down to start the water in the bath.

Cirrepathes "Circe" Cambay, District 4

So annoying. The brat runs around me in circles as I try to grab hold of him and the necklace he's carrying.

"You little BASTARD! Give it back!" I whine. He darts around me as I reach out to try and grab him, and I trip over one of his feet, knocking us both to the floor.

"Mommmm! She's crushing me!" He yells. No he didn't! I grab his head, forcing it into an uncomfortable position akin to a headlock.

"Die, brat!" I say, wickedly, cracking a laugh. A footstep sounds on the stairs.

"Circe? Atlantis? What's going on up there?" Oh shit. I regretably pull away from my younger brother, leaving him to stand up and go bitch like a little girl. God, I can't believe he's twelve. Needs to grow up, seriously. Really.

"No-thing!" I call back in a singsong tone. "Just getting ready." While the brat is distracted, I grab my accesory from his grasp. He scowls.

"You're a bitch." I feel my eyebrow twitch, but swivel around, trying to ignore him.

"Takes one to know one," I growl out, fastening my necklace into place around my throat. The jewels are a light blue color that almost matches my eyes; aquamarine, I think they're called. They match perfectly with my multi-shaded blue and green dress.

I grab my hair brush, trying desperately to get my spiked-out black hair to stay down. The efforts are futile. I huff, throwing the object back against my dresser. The footsteps reach the top of the stairs. I can see my mother in the doorway from the reflection in the mirror. Her face lights up, and when I turn around, she's smiling brightly.

"Honey, you look great." She says, giving me the once over before kissing my cheek. I shake my head, grumbling a 'thanks, Mom.'

Today is the day. I am volunteering for the Hunger Games. I've been preparing for this moment the past four years and I'm finally ready for it. Nothing will stand in my way- especially not some pussy who thinks they can do a better job of Careering than I can. Sure, Four isn't the biggest Career district, but we've trained some pretty fine ones these past few years. And I'm one of the best. Yeah, I know that sounds cocky and you're thinking I'm a fool. I'm not. Really.

I don't stand around much longer to listen to my mother. I make a break for the door almost immediately, slamming the screen open and stepping out into the fresh air. It smells like salt. Though I guess that seems pretty obvious, me being from the fishing district.

Somebody calls something to me from inside, probably my dad or Coral, my elder brother. I ignore it, setting off down the street. My strides are fast, and it isn't long before I find myself running full-speed toward the Reaping area. I can barely hear my footsteps as my feet brush over the dirt of the ground.

Alianna Gerald, District 8

I can just see the reaping area up ahead; the fourteens section is off on my right. I swallow. Reaping, reaping, reaping. I'm scared. I can't help it.

My head is reeling. I press a hand to it as I focus my attention back to the stage. The guys on my left keep whispering, punching each other in the arm, making jokes about being reaped. I can't help but wonder how amusing they'd find the situation if they were the ones caught in it.

The escort walks up to the stage; she is tall, with oddly-colored skin and a face full of piercings. I shudder. What is with the Capitol? They all look like freaks.

Then again, maybe the District people are the ones who look like freaks. I can't tell. Normal doesn't exactly exist in Panem.

"Good morning!" The escort chirps out happily. Commander Paylor enters the stage behind her. She is completely grim in her demeanor.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The crowd hushes instantly."Today, we are here for the reapings. As you all know, there used to be a time called the Dark Days." The Commander sighs solemnly, before continuing. "Terriblestorms, raging people, deaths everywhere, epidemics constantly breaking out. It was a terrible time. However, from these Dark Days, a spark rose from the ashes of the place once called America. And Panem was created. Thirteen districts surrounding a shining Capitol, each of the districts serving this Capitol in someway.

"However, within the districts, a storm was rising, to rebel against our Capitol. It wasn't long before one of the districts, District Thirteen, started to rebel. The Capitol had trouble keeping peace, and eventually had to kill of the whole District Thirteen, which quieted the rebels. Then, the Capitol created the Hunger Games, in which 24 teenagers, one female and one male from each District, who were to fight to the death inside an arena created for this purpose. Today, we celebrate the seventy-fourth anniversary of these games." The Commander steps back, giving way to the escort, who reaches her hand into the girls reaping ball without another word.

The name that leaves her lips is not what I expected in the least.

"Alianna Gerald!"

I feel me face heat up. My head starts to spin. Is the ground getting closer? Am I going to-

Short chapter, I know, guys. Problem is that I have SO MUCH going on right now that I can hardly think about writing fanfiction. But I got around to it after a couple years. So please review...and I really have no idea when I'll be updating again, sorry. Soon, hopefully, cause I really want to get some where with the FFNET stuff. :)