#survivuers

[herelifeisbeautiful]

@survivuers (for Portia) As far as district assignments went for participating in The Hunger Games, District 12 was an undesirable district that was considered either a starting district or a punishment. A poor district of coalminers with one victor in anyone's memory, it was the district delegated to dark colors, quick sketches, and a complete lack of effort. Which was downright ironic as the escort for the district was the eldest daughter of the Trinket Family, a complete overzealous and ofter overdressed escort who came off as either having lost her mind or completely naive to the fact that she's spent 23 years as an escort for the lowest district in Panem. Preparation for the 74th Hunger Games was well underway, and the Capitol was buzzing with staff building the games and the absolute spectacle the games were. When Effie Trinket enters the room she's set to meet the team assigned to the district this year, she smiles brightly. Her blue eyes artificially bright in color and her veneers making her smile unnaturally white, "Well, who's ready for the big event? Now, I know it not the most glamorous district, but we will make it work for us, won't we?"

[lovedunexpectedly]

at the second afterparty she's found herself dragged to, apparently capitolites don't sleep in the days following the games, she takes a moment to step out. freezing at the sight of a familiar figure in the corridor, "oh, sorry i'll leave."

@survivuers liked for a starter

[tailtucked]

@survivuers asked: “sit down for a second and talk to me.” from hazelle ?

prim wasn't expecting that. usually, she dropped off her herbs, sometimes picked up game, and went home. but she respected hazelle and, hopefully, it wasn't anything bad. "sure, of course." prim put her basket of herbs on the kitchen table, pulled out a kitchen chair, and sat down. "is everything alright?" her sister wouldn't mind if she was a little late. katniss would be in the woods with gale for a little while longer.

[whatsbehindthefacade]

@survivuers asked: “it must be my lucky day.” axel and sella

"Lucky?"

Axel can't fathom what she could mean by that. There's nothing that's lucky about anything any more. Lucky to be alive, some people might say, but he dares say if they could get a glimpse into their lives, they might not be so sure about such a statement at all. If he'd been lucky, he thinks, he would have died in that arena, and at least then the suffering would have been over. Then he might have had peace, instead of the endless cycle, year upon year, the weight of it all threatening to crush him.

He can feel the anxiety curdling in his stomach, the slight itch in his skin, the craving, but he tamps it down for now. He can wait a little longer, spread what he has out across a slightly longer period, just in case. "What could possibly make it lucky?" he asks softly, rubbing his face as his eye twitches a little. These days, only numbness helps. Only numbness soothes.

[whatsbehindthefacade]

⭐ for @survivuers

MULTIMUSE MEME: Send a " ⭐ " and I will list muses I would be interested in throwing at yours, or potential muse combinations if you are also a multi. If you like any of the suggested combinations, you are welcome to come plot or start interactions with them.

Atala for pretty much any of my tribute muses

Cedra for Stele (again district 7)

Coral for Mizzen because it could be interesting to see how their dynamic might vary within the different setting

Marley for Marvel or Cato because career pack dynamics are so fricking fun

Palladium for Marvel

Rivet for Axel (for obvious reasons)

Sella for Axel (again for obvious reasons)

Silka for Marvel

Velveteen for Marvel

[lovedunexpectedly]

@oddsfavorcd said : send ‘cook’ for my muse to cook for your muse. woof and cecelia ?

cecelia does not cook. hasn't since her games. can barely touch food without some voice in the back of her head whispering about poison. tanner has been understanding, since he no longer has to work he's enjoyed the chance to experiment a little more with food, especially now they can afford anything but also he's not so subtley been suggesting she works on it.

today tanner has gone to visit his family and cecelia is determined to surprise him with dinner. woof is here both for the potential dinner and as a witness so when the voice starts to rise there is someone to tell her she hasn't added anything wrong.

"i didn't cook a lot before," she justifies, reading the next step one more time before adding the tomatoes to the pan.

[tailtucked]

@survivuers asked: “may i have this dance?” hazelle and prim

Send ‘may I have this dance?’ to ask my muse to join yours on the dance floor.

the very first instinct was the smile and she jokingly curtsied. "of course you may!" prim was a better dancer. she may not be able to sing like other everdeens. but she could dance...mostly. she held out her hand for hazelle to take. "come on!"

[nonpareil]

hazelle hawthorne [ @survivuers ] ⇆ wyatt callow .. you know, this is technically illegal. 💬

‘yeah? and what isn't these days?’ you mutter quietly, treason tip-toeing every spit of breath. you were sitting tight in anticipation that some day soon, the air that you breathe would be taxed a hefty sum even when it wasn't so clean as to be considered premium air. her words are soft, surprised even, as if suddenly exposed to a world she hadn't yet ventured. illegal, you shake your head in disbelief; you couldn't leave, you couldn't hunt couldn't trade, couldn't drink. in fact, anything just or even the tiniest bit fucking fun was forbidden between the borders of the district you both called home. and worst of all, you couldn't whisper one word of criticism for your predicament in fear of being carted off for execution or worse. everything they were doing at the hob was seeped in illegalities; whether it was passing off white liquor as cooking ingredients, or making stakes for the most trivial things that the booker boys were able to get away with in order to pass the time. peacekeepers often looked aside, casting their scrutiny elsewhere because they were just as bored and hungry as you were. you knew that most would pass you by with quiet revulsion, whilst the more desperate might find you to generate odds to fill their pockets, the risk more tempting than the few coins they'd mustered for that week's shop. you roll a coin between your fingers inside your left pocket, busying where busy needs; impatient, disgruntled, tired. ‘you making a bet or just stating the obvious?’