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# ODDSFAVORCD — a low - activity indie independent the hunger games multi-muse. featuring canon + crossover + original characters. heavily headcanon based. iconless + mutuals only. plotted dynamics heavily prioritized. run by lizzie. 20s. they/them. est.

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muses under the cut.

glimmer raises an eyebrow at clove's insult, not letting anything show on her face. inside, however, she's thrilled — this is the kind of thing that glimmer thrives on. petty insults and catty glances, whispered judgements and snickers hidden behind hands — all of it was second nature to glimmer at this point. she'd spent so long competing to be the top choice that she hadn't had any time to make friends, which suited her just fine. after all, she was here, and those other girls, who had spent time braiding hair and having slumber parties, hadn't been chosen as tribute.

she raises the bow and arrow, fires a shot at the target. it lands in the center — right in the target's throat.

glimmer does as she's told, even though she's not in the mood to smile. who would be, after finding out that some nobody from district twelve had gotten a better score than she had? except that marvel is right next to her, grinning and smiling like he's never had a problem in his whole life, and he only got a nine too, which really just means that marvel is an idiot. which she knew, but still.

she moves the brussels sprouts around on her plate with her fork absent-mindedly. she's not that hungry, anyway.

enobaria holds her hands up, the universal gesture for surrender. “i'm not giving you one,” she says. “just wanted to express my sympathies.” she puts her tray down, takes the seat next to johanna.

the communal meals remind enobaria of her time at the academy. she swallows hard, ignores it. if she thinks about it, she misses two so badly that it aches.

so she doesn't think about it.

blight coughs in surprise into his drink. “oh, i'm ruining the mood?” he asks, incredulity leeching thick from his tone like sap from a tree. “that's too bad. i guess they should have thought of that before they reaped me again.”

he takes a long sip of his drink. he knows that the rebellion is supposed to get them out. he also knows that not all of them will make it out alive. he wants to say he's not scared for johanna, but he is. he can't imagine having to keep going knowing that she'd died, all because of some bullshit rebel plan that, if he's being honest with himself — something blight preferred to avoid, if possible — probably won't even work.

hazelle sits at haymitch's kitchen table, watching peeta pace back and forth. the boy is stressed out, she'll give him that. she can hear the tension in his tone, can see the way his shoulders are all bunched up. she knows what stress looks like on a teen boy — after all, she's got two of her own at home.

“oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, before she can stop herself. “here. have a seat. i'll put on some tea, and we can talk about it, if you want.” she stands up, turns on the gas stove with a sharp click, puts the kettle on. “or we can just drink our tea in silence. i won't be offended either way.”

she knows perfectly well that gale would rather pull out his own teeth than tell her anything he was feeling, especially these days, but rory's still little enough that he'll cry in her lap when he's had a particularly hard day, although that was rarer and rarer these days. she had no idea what peeta would do — had he aged out of needing a mother entirely, or was there still a part of him that was a little boy that needed mothering?

elleydee laughs a little. what chishiya has just said has to be a joke. it's not even that funny, but she needs a joke right now — weeks cooped up in district thirteen had left her restless, feeling like a rat trapped in a cage.

it takes her a second to realize that chishiya isn't laughing. “oh. you're serious,” she says, quietly.

she hadn't thought he was actually asking. after all, everyone knows the worst thing she ever did. it was broadcasted before all of panem.