charity gala / ratmas day one

[calla]

MIDAS GYLLENE
director extraordinaire !

There’s no party like a Fenwick party. Or a Fenwick adjacent party! It’s dark outside but the lights are on, it’s a silent auction for the charity - toys for all the little kiddos! It’s bright and cozy and it's a win-win situation. The Fenwicks get a little good rep and the Capitol gets to party for the third (fourth?) night in a row.

There’s a giant evergreen in the center of the hall with paper ornaments hanging from the boughs - present requests all the way from the districts. Little Timmy from district 12 wants a book on the history of peacekeepers - how patriotic!

Midas slings one arm around Aslan, cue the doves, there's live music on one end of the hall and old holiday flicks playing silently behind them on a giant led screen; Carlton's One Last Ratmas, Winter Blues starring Carver Le Roux - only the classics.

The lights are just dazzling enough to look like fallen snow and Midas leans into his husband, raises a glass of Riesling to the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming! Please, drink, be merry, and let’s spread some cheer!”

---

EVENT

Welcome to the annual Fenwick sponsored Solstice Charity Gala! It’s the most magical day of the year where all the good-hearted and affluent citizens of the Capitol gather together to make the Districts a little more cheerful. Kids from across the districts send in their holiday wishlists, and these kind-hearted Capitolites strive to make their dreams come true. Take an ornament from the tree - fulfill the gift request!

SIKE! The real reason everyone's here is for that sweet sweet silent auction. Bidders will roll a 1-100 die to see how well they did, the bidder closest to 100 will receive the grand prize, ic this is a mysterious green egg from the 89th arena, ooc this is 5 extra ratmas points. The rest of the prizes are strictly ic and will be doled out in descending order as follows:

 1. Mysterious green egg from the 89th arena (ooc: 5 bonus ratmas points)
 2. Crowe brand light-up all-weather umbrella
 3. 20 minute dance aerobics class with a random victor
 4. Dr. Lane voucher good for one free nose job
 5. Antique vase holding the soul of the deceased President Snow
 6. Novelty rainbow glitter pen

You can earn 1 Ratmas point for every post made in the Solstice events, for a max of 15 points! Any bonus points won in the events don’t count towards this cap. Any questions can be directed to myself or to the vet memes <3

[Deleted]

Charity do do the body good.

"Come on girls, you heard the man," Sampson claims a table for his posse just by strut alone. Cluster of about eight bad bitches behind him -- Miss Mortem, Laffy, Romeo, Frida was back there somewhere and you already know Jem's by his side somewhere. Last time he checked Tulip was taking photos with Olivine Ford and he hadn't seen her since. 

She's a goner, your honor. "Do good deeds, spread your- that's right, cheer," he says, making eye contact with Fenta Nyl - the D.D. of the night. Sampson puffs his fur coat over his red latex shoes, boot scooting his way away from his cluster and towards the bidding station. The Holiday spirit got lost somewhere along the way two blunts ago, Sampson's here to do what he does best: win.

"You know, Midas, I was just talking to Hades Mutts trying to get a designer spinosaurus. All I'm saying is this mystery egg would look so good in my sun room," you know what I mean?

FcvjhMpEJK1-100 

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[kap]

w a l l y
w o n d u l l

"Come with me and you'll be
In a world of pure imagination"

Classy. Sophisticated. Fancy. Those were surely descriptors people would use when describing Mr. Wondull, right? Or, at the very least, that's how they'd describe the events he attended. This charity gala was just another one in his repertoire.

The man had plenty of money to spend, so why not spend it? That's just how things in the Capitol worked. People had money, and they spent it on extravagant things they typically didn't actually need. For example: the shimmering red bow tie that Wally wore with his sleek black suit tonight. He had probably spent much more on it than would have been deemed reasonable by a person in even the wealthiest of Districts, but he lived in the Capitol. He spent his money where he saw fit.

A charity auction was exactly what he needed to flash his cash about. So, when he saw what was available to be bid on, he decided he'd jump on it. There was really no harm in doing so.

elegant

ukm5DtFYbD1-100

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[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

m a r s h a

"*"

Finally, the games were over, the lights had come up, and the world could go back to being about Marsha and not a show about children slicing each other to bits. It was a living, and honor, all of the pleasantries Marsha could muster – but mostly, it gave relevance to this crowd, which was worth more than its weight in gold. You could be richer than God and hotter than all get out, but it wouldn’t mean a damn in the capitol if you weren’t what people were talking about.

Which seemed incongruous with a charity gala, at first glance. Purposefully giving of oneself, laying out offerings for those in need – volunteering meant not getting paid, and no, Marsha didn’t do a lot of that these days. But then, the right sort of gift could get everyone talking, and if you were wearing the next big thing? Well – you’d better be ready to be the only thing that anyone would remember from some charity auction, whether it was about raising money for limbless orphans or whatever. Marsha hadn’t bothered reading the card their publicist had handed over.

“An egg? It’s not even Fabergé.” Marsha let out a laugh, knowing full well how hungry everyone would be for some dinosaur to pop out in due time. Most capitolites seemed more flush with cash than sense. “I’m sorry – but I think it’ll look a whole lot better in my conservatory, Sampson.”

elegant

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[marcellus rhodes 11b arc]

{ ctibor belhaven }

Now, when it comes to a party, you better believe that I'll be there. Sure, the kids and all are cute and important; Little Jamie wants a Saffron Lowe doll and some... unpronounceable name of a boy from eight wants a new sewing machine. While the kids are cute, I'm cuter, and I clearly am more significant than them. I don't need a party to get gifts. I buy them for myself when I want them. Like with this silent auction. I'm here to get myself some goods.

The food was rather boring, so I spent most of my time waiting for the auction to start. The first item was some egg. I mean, cute. Maybe I can resell it for a higher price. Or perhaps it's a dinosaur; can I terrorize my sister with it? Potentially. I guess there's only one way to find out, but the first step is to get the damn thing.

"I could have my sister get you a second one for free. Come on, think of the profit! A second egg? All the more charity money."

A lie, but who cares?

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[Deleted]

T a z z e l    C a r d e n a s

This was just perfect! For starters, Sammy was here! And he looked just gorgeous, as always. But more than that, everyone who was anyone was here. And of course that included me. I technically wasn't invited, but I managed to get a media pass when I explained that I owned my own magazine, The Buzz. No one here had to know that though. I was an expert in faking it until you made it. I may have started with nothing, but I'm fucking making it babe!

Other than a camera I'd take out for pictures whenever something juicy happened or someone looked particularly stunning, I made sure no one could tell I was any different from the other guests here. After all, one day The Buzz would be the biggest magazine in Panem. I was sure of it. Once the auction started, I decided to join in after some bids. If I was going to act like I belonged, I needed to prove it. And at least I had the money to put up for it.

None of the prizes seemed too interesting to me, honestly. But I could use them to advance my career. The egg would make an interesting piece in my magazine, and then I could donate it to a museum to draw attention to myself. If I got a class with the victor I could force them into an interview. Part of my gift was making even the most mundane stories interesting. People want entertainment in journalism, not truth.

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[d4 Panda Scope [Gayton]]

Of course I had to be there, but of course I was too busy to make it. Sure, I had my assistant push all my meetings back a few hours just so I could small talk a casual "I had to cancel all of meetings for this."

Everyone who's anyone is here, so I had to be too important to make it but charitable enough to persevere. Public Perception is the truth that perseveres so it's the most important truth to craft.

Do not misunderstand, I wouldn't have missed this event. You miss one event like this and suddenly your a nobody. Plus, who is gonna tell the world how offensively repulsive Tazzel Cardenas looked if not me. No one, that's who. At least, no one anyone would listen to.

Step one: Show up late.
Step two: Act like you graced them with your presence
Step three: Look the best, a given
Step four: Hold a glass of champagne all night, do not take a single drink
Step five: Stay until people are drunk enough to spill secrets, leave before anyone pukes
Step six: Publish it all.

hmcJwX7Zbb1-1001-100

[d4 tati pelotte [azalea]]

I just think it is so cute how they invited me to this event thinking that I'd be able to go.

My agent asked if I was free tonight. Umm, do I look free? I'm expensive.

Seriously, I've been booked and busy for the past three months. Why do you think I'd suddenly have a random opening at the busiest time of the year to attend some little WeirdoCon where everyone's egos are inflated bigger than a botched pair of breast implants?

Honestly, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here. But being a celebrity is really difficult, like, I'm pushed to do all these events which are just chicken shit... but then if I don't turn up to them, my follower count take a tumble? Why are people checking for A listers like me at events like this anyway? I guess someone has to be the star of the show.

This event is for charity, though. I love charity, honestly, it's like, the only thing good about the world. I'm normally all for doing a little bit of charity work here and there but tonight, I'm refusing all pictures with these lesser celebrities unless they pay me a flat rate of five thousand dollars and another one thousand per one hundred likes the picture gets. All of that money will be donated to a charity of my choosing, which will probably be the BPADCA: Bay's purse and debit card association.

They do such amazing work.

"Wow, it's so..." I grit my teeth and speak through them, "nice in here." I'm lying, of course, because it smells like old spice mixed with sweat. Someone hasn't showered in a few days and my bets are on that little, dumpy man who is a green hat short of being a Ratmas elf. Either that, or Sampson Crowe is trying out a new cologne that smells like old meatloaf. This is, like, totes sensory overload.

Everyone starts bidding on some item, I don't really care what it is to be honest. An egg of some sort — pfft, sure, I'm sure it's not worth as much as the ones I had frozen five years ago.

My phone beeps. My ringtone is an unreleased song from a couple years ago when my management thought I could become a pop star. Not gonna lie, the song sounds like a hit, maybe I'll have to leak it to that Cardenas guy if I'm ever falling on hard times. But ugh, it's my agent: 'remember that it's for charity'... like, okay? How can I possibly forget when I'm surrounded by people who look like they need sponsoring for three dollars a month?

Whatever. Let me just make some stupid bid on this stupid egg so I can get out of here and go to a real party.

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[Tom]

S A B E R
B A N C R O F T

It always starts the same.

A gala meant for charity or the games where celebrities meet to network and enjoy a night of media buzz in their best dressed. The Riesling in his hands doesn't swirl quite the same as he lets himself smile, downing the drink in a single gulp after all the hard work he's done for the day. A revisit to the Mirrorhound exhibit after some of them decided to rip apart one another; having left blood everywhere, but he managed to get them back to obedience quick enough to style himself up in time for the night. A sigh between his lips as he can remember Midas having sent an invite out to him knowing he wouldn't refuse when he saw the prize for the auction.

After the toast, Saber finds himself with another glass, sipping calmly. Small talk with some fellow capitolites who he couldn't care less about the conversations being had. If only Risky could save him from the amount of strangers who just wanted to hear from him about his work, but he smiles back down with a polite word. The bidding starts with a flurry of Capitolites who want a pet dinosaur to themselves. As if any of them would truly know how to take care of a majestic beast at all. "I made it, Midas." A heavy flash of his teeth; eye staring to the egg before he just turns back to with a laugh.

"The egg would be better in more capable hands. I've got the perfect exhibit just for it."

No one had to know about his desire to see how obedient the dinosaurs truly were. Either way, the egg should be his and Midas seemed to be succeeding in this charity gala already. A smile to himself at the success his friend is already having. For charity and all of the district children who desperately cling to the idea that he'd even care about what they want. The taste of alcohol and the entertaining environment of competitive capitolites would make the rest of the evening entertaining.

Hopefully, that is.

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1-100

[gamemaker ☢️ ivan korsch]

j o s i a h .

Praise to the fucking highest gods and divas out there. Josie Layton still has his head! And praise them even more for the fact President Snow was not breathing down his neck this time round, mumbling about the fact that two District Twelve tributes were easily skipping through the arena. Josie has his head and he has his career victor! Step aside Nico Thorne, Nixie Summers now takes the pride of place on his mantelpiece. Now he has this charity gig trying to bid on something just as extravagant to fill the cluttered mantelpiece of his.

”I have exactly three mysterious eggs at home already. They are the perfect décor.” He says, while swiping a glass sparkly chute from the waiter/avox’s tray that walks by him. ”You are all emptying your purses on the wrong thing here. Who does not what an aerobics class with a victor? Or find out the mystery of that unnerving vase?”

Josie knocks back the champagne and points the empty glass into the air. ”You can all step aside, I have the perfect place for this green egg and that is exactly next to my red, purple and yellow ones!”

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dickhead

elegant

1-100

[bailee]

melody music maker, reading all the papers

The funny thing with rich people is that we love charity. We love it, so much in fact, to open up our wallets to these poor, destitute District citizens that we so much wouldn't have batted an eye about any other year.

I, for one, was there to get drunk, and celebrate yet another year of unrest and uneasiness from District Seven as for the second year in a row my District had lost their chance at another victor in the finale. You would think by this point District Seven would be used to receiving two young bodies in a coffin this time of year - but it never failed to put the District on the verge of a rebellion, and you know I have to put out that spark before it erupts into a flame.

But tonight was a night to celebrate, and dressed in the finest of diamonds from District Two and the most elegant handmade clothes from the best designer in District Eight, I held a flute of champagne in my hand and bid on some more objects I didn't need to stuff into my luxurious penthouse.

How ironic was the richness and expensiveness of the attendees around us?

I raised my champagne flute. "Here's to another year of success and prosperity in Panem, and to that green egg which will make for excellent decor in my guest bedroom."



BDr3Z|5F_f1-100
they say i'm up and coming like i'm fucking in an elevator

VEGAS.

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[✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]

f l o .

Working for Fenwick Entertainment has its perks.

I lean against the wall, a handful of chocolate in golden wrappers in my hand. Jay is somewhere, late I guess. I forgot this was happening today, I left my office later than planned. The accounting team was trying to get end of year taxes done. Evan brought two bottles of champagne to the meeting room so that made everything a little slower and now here I am I guess, standing here waiting for Jay to show up with a handful of melting chocolate.

Okay, less than a handful now.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, once, twice, again. I ignore it, there's a flute of champagne still in my other hand so I'd have to put something down. Alright four times, that's definitely Jay. My champagne flute ends up balanced sort of wobbly on a nearby ledge and I open my phone to a wall of text. Classic.

Eun, get the vase!

"The Vase? What?" I mutter. Where are you? I text back. Free parties are fun and all but everything always feels boring without Jay. I'm getting tired of waiting.

Please! Just shut and get it!!!

"Alright, fine," I say, even though he can't hear me. I drop my phone back into my pocket and head over to the massive tree at one end of the hall. Ornaments fill every free space and all have little scrolls of paper tied to them, denoting what some kid wants for Christmas.

I don't even celebrate Christmas, why should they get to? Disillusion the masses, that's what I think. Whatever. I pull an ornament off the tree and read the scroll attached. It's tiny but I'm good at reading fine print.

Some kid named Caelum out in Five wants his brother to die for Christmas.

"Uhhh, did anyone even filter these?"

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[fox]

T U L I P

► ► ►

The members of the board that survived the changing of power were old fucks, deep-rooted in their wealth, and over the months they've grasped onto their shares with empyrean strength, turning the tides of votes and shaking the foundations of Arsenault with a fist. I've become their little errand girl – CEO of balls and galas and charities and PR.

Ah, democracy is only for the powerful.

I should've gotten rid of every single one of them when I had the chance.

And when I take a glass ornament from the tree, it morphs into their heads in a daydream, and I think about breaking it in my hands, blood, glass, skull. I think about Gaius Cornwell putting a hand on my back, vaping in the boardroom in that season's newest suit, and I wonder what it would be like to break a few of his bones, play skip rope with his skin pumped full of elastics.

But I read the paper. Someone out in one of those godforsaken lower districts wants to end world hunger. Wah wah, that's the dumbest shit I've ever heard.

They should try not to be hungry themselves first?

They announce the prizes, and what more could a girl want than the soul of President Snow? And in an antique vase? Charming.

I take pictures, make sure they know we're shedding those rumours of producing sex tapes and laundering coin, make sure people know ACE Entertainment, up and coming, is charitable and nice and sweet. And I've become that youthful veneer on old sins, that little girl, that body, that cat's-paw.

Fuck. I guess at least Sampson's here – someone to shit talk with.

FLcdBGOhOR1-1001-100

[gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

↳ MARY DELGADO

Charities are for the rich, meaning Mary shouldn’t even be here.

But call her an envious woman – she wants to see the latest fashion Sampson Crowe has cooked up, and she is so going to steal those passion fruit macaroons once the event ends. It had taken some haloed words and a PG-13 squeeze in the dark to convince her sergeant to station her in the gala, and Mary isn’t going to pass up on any opportunity this place will offer her. Hell, if she’s lucky, maybe she could even get one that will pull her back up to the top of this society’s ladder, not hunting criminals at the bottom.

That’s why the egg piques her interest instantly. A relic from an old games, oh my, her smirk is a sly fox’s as she stalks forward. She hasn’t dressed outwardly like a peacekeeper today, only a gun strapped to a sequined holster, so she hopes Mr. Midas doesn’t rule her out. “I’d nurse that egg until it hatched, Mister Mi,” she says, her voice a smoke-screen. “I take care of my collectibles.” She ties it all up with a wink.

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[✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]

He still loves watching Midas work, over-the-top fanfare and all. After all these years together, his husband still has a way of surprising him. There are dark circles under his eyes, a shift at the hospital that turned into a double before this, but tonight marks the beginning of his vacation and he's just happy to be spending it with the man he loves.

When Midas leans into him, Aslan shifts his balance to accommodate him but that's never a sacrifice. His husband being at his side is always comforting and Aslan knocks his flute of Riesling against his in a toast. They have their driver lined up for the evening, they both can enjoy the night without worry.

"Excellent work as always, my love," Aslan says as he leads Midas through the part-goers to the large tree. "Shall we choose a few to benefit this year?" he asks and then pulls a couple ornaments down.

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