[YLIP] hair of the dog 🍸 mini-challenge #1

[[ retro gm ] angel lí ✨]

I wake them up at 7am, because if I had to be up at a godawful hour for this then they should too. At least I'm getting paid -- but whatever, I'm grouchy and a little hungover and feeling petty today.

Nepotism's a good bitch, until she's not. I'm like, thrilled for Auntie P of course. Took it upon myself to be her social media analyst because it sounded both important and easy and we're like, blowing up with ratings. Even in District Three, of all places. I thought they were all just a bunch of nerds, but apparently they love a bit of reality tv drama as much as the bimbos in One.

Anyway, I'm hungover. You can blame Ariadne for that one, girl always has me doing hard liquor like I'm not 108 pounds. So getting up for hair and makeup was a struggle in itself. I'd beamed at Aunt P and told her I was totes ready, because even though I act like I don't give a shit secretly I don't want to let her down. She's done a lot for me these past few years. Small beginnings in the petting zoo, and now I've got a guest appearance on her new show and a hit single with Sampson.

Speaking of -- I blast that shit through the house like it's the Panem National Anthem. Which it should be, if you ask me. Not only is it kind of a bop, but now it's definitely gonna have a renaissance moment on Oracle playlists.

"Morning lovers!" I greet over the mic, winking at all three cameras to make sure they get my good side. "This is Jemima Quartz speaking, favourite niece of your favourite host Petelia. Rise and shine and meet me in the kitchen for your first mini-challenge bitches! And hurry up, I'm thirsty."

I could just rate them on their pyjama ensemble, debating on whether I give bonus points to the boys in undies and the girls in lace lingerie -- but no, that's no fun. In they come, bleary-eyed and sleep deprived in their little pairs, fuck that's cute. It kind of makes me lonely for half a second, then I blink and remember that I'm not a relationships kind of girl. Eugh, gross!

Spread out before me on the kitchen island is a plethora of spirits, mixers, two blenders, several glasses of different shapes and sizers, cocktail shakers, tiny umbrellas and bowls of sugar & salt. It'd probably make me vomit, if I wasn't on live television right now. That just ain't cute!

"To prep you for this week's maxi challenge, I want to see how you fair in the kitchen. That's a hint, by the way."

Another wink, this time at the cast.

"Whoever can make me the best morning cocktail wins! I'm judging it based on three factors: how it tastes, how it looks, and if it can cure my hangover."

I spell out the criteria on my fingers, chunky rings glistening in the kitchen light.

"The winner will get an advantage in the next challenge or whatever - but more importantly, I'll follow you back on POLA and you'll win a delicious cooked breakfast at my favourite brunch place. Plus you get to choose one other cast member to join you!"

And with that, I open my phone and take my seat on the sole barstool in front of the countertop.

"Well?" I gesture at the gaggle of half-asleep kids still in their pyjamas. "These drinks aren't gonna make themselves!"

---

hey lovebirds - welcome to your first mini-challenge!

the challenge is simple: each contestant will attempt to make a cocktail for jem at the bright and early hour of 7am. this takes place the morning after the first coupling on day 2, before the maxi challenge.

to take part, you have to have been paired in the coupling thread first!! so make sure you get onto that ASAP.

each character will write their attempt IC, with three 1-10 dice rolls for:

1. presentation
2. taste
3. jem's hangover cure

you'll add these numbers together to get your total score, then please also roll a 1-20
below your 3 scoring rolls for a tiebreaker.

the winning mixologist will score themselves an advantage going into the day 2 challenge, and IC get a yummy cooked breakfast date with the competitor of their choosing.

for added drama, this +1 competitor does NOT have to be the other half of your ship!

get mixing lovelies! any questions feel free to message me or rave in the ylip channel on slack!

x

[Deleted]

Early bird gets the worm, dude! Do you know there's a 24 hour camera crew here? Kinda nuts, I've already started learning names with the producers and all them, I think after I win this and get a hot fuckin' partner I might try to strike it up good in this gig! Anyways, I've been in the gym working out since 4 am, Marley's stunning but I haven't shared a bed since I was like, a toddler. 

Not here for it right now, too much to plan! 

I'm already chugging a redbull when the intercom comes on and I'm panicking right, like do I even have enough time to hop in the shower? But I say fuck it, I'm an expert in getting undressed and I can just wear a bathrobe down there for the camera time. Too early for a nip slip?

"Morning gorgeous," I say with a wink to Marley in the hall, kissing her on the cheek on the way down to the kitchen. I'm fiddling around with the pockets of my gym shorts because I don't know what to do with my hands, but I'm pulling my robe back to show the pecs and I think that's buying me some points. We've still got like, 18 people here, that's one too many names to know in the first place.

But then walks in Jemima Quartz, and I can't lie, of course I recognize her. I don't know if Hermes'll know her, but she's like the face of POLA. Big deal! Plus she's just stunning, I mean- Marley's grabbing my hand, look at that. Bunch of pretty women, right? I clear my throat and make sure I'm the first one in line, waving to my partner as I mentally mix the hottest cocktail I can think of. 

Can a cocktail even be a hot? We're about to find out. 

"Hey Jem!" And I'm just grinning ear to ear, right. "You strike me as a Vodka Mudshakes kind of girl - don't tell me I'm wrong!" If I'm being honest, I'm mostly going off what I've heard Syrena talk about back home. I don't get hang over's, I don't know, maybe I'm just built different. "I make a mean screwdriver, hold the applause," all the spicy of vodka, with all the sour of orange juice. 

What more can you ask for! 

"I'll make you one too Marley!"





(presentation)
Nu4dK8xcgF1-10



(taste)
1-10



(hangover cure!)
1-10



(charm xo)
1-20



(one for marley too?!)
1-10

edit: jem's live reaction:

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20·1-10

[Deleted]

Dionysius wasn’t too bad for a career. Though I immediately let him know that night what would be happening. For starters, I don’t share blankets - not here at least. At home when we have blankets I don’t have much of a choice. So now? Now I was going to take advantage of the situation. I asked every producer and crew member I could find if the resort had an extra blanket or two. With this I’ve amassed quite the collection of blankets. And with them in my possession I slept curled up under them in a ball to preserve warmth. I wonder how easy it would be to take one or two back to Twelve with me? For some reason when I woke up I was cuddling with Dionysius, but thankfully he was still asleep so I didn’t need to worry about anyone knowing.

Our first “mini-challenge” was a pile of bullshit. I’m not here to serve rich people their drinks. I’m going to have to spend my whole god damn life mining their stupid ass coal, I’m not making them a damn cocktail too. I don’t grovel to rich people, sorry, next! Even if this was an elimination challenge I’d rather get sent home than make this brat a drink. But I had an idea, after all, I needed some screen time if I wanted to stay on. Ratings are important!

So I started working on making the drink for her. Honestly I had no idea what I was doing, I usually just drink whatever stale beer I can find from the bottle. I was hoping to find something a bit nicer when I broke into Stella Blakesly’s place, but that heist didn’t quite go as planned to begin with. And hey after I win, I’ll be able to drink whatever I want when I want! And if this doesn’t work out The Hunger Games is always an option too. I’d find a solution

presentation

p8Lt_XOCqA1-10

taste

1-10

hang over cure

she’s not getting any ✨ 

bonus points for trying???
1-20

I at least made it look all cute for her, well she thinks it’s for her. I took the glass with all the rose petals and shit around it over to her. And then before she could take it I snagged the glass and chugged it in front of her with a bit of a smirk. Take that. As much as I hated careers, Capitolites were worse. Yes careers were complicit in the system that fucked over my district so badly, but Capitolites were the system. I put the now empty glass back on the presentation, “I think there’s a few drops left for you.”

Even if it didn’t taste the best, nothing is better than the feeling of victory over the Capitol - even if it’s a tiny victory.

[ 452 words ]

[ table by rave ]

1-10·1-10·1-20

[calla]

I wake up with Wolf's face basically two inches from mine and decide it's gonna be a good day. Manifestations, you know?

Annisa used to bang on our wall to get me to stop snoring - even though I always swore the walls were too thick for her to hear, I think she just liked making the noise. Wolf doesn't complain though, so, in your face sis.

I think I need to stop thinking.

We wander down to the kitchen and I pour a cup of coffee for him because I think that's what you're supposed to do for someone you just spent the night with. (What did we say about thinking!?)

Whatever man, it's game time.

Jemima Quartz looks pretty important - she's got that half-manic look in her eye that all the Capitolites do and I can respect it. I've never really gotten drunk before though. Pietro showed me how to do weed in between making pies and that's about all I've got. Except I was kinda shitty at even that, so when everybody gets the green light to move I just kinda stand there for a minute. Yo, what's the difference between a spirit and a liquor? Are some of these haunted?

There's a bright pink bottle off to the side and I grab that one just because it looks the best. I dunno who Whitney is, but she's got some style.

I claim a blender and take a sip of my coffee except it's fucking gross, so I pour it in said blender instead. I'm tryna rack my brain for any ideas here. Annie likes those tomato drinks - the julius or whatever, so I dump some tomato juice in too. Pickle garnishes? Those are a thing right? A whole pickle gets tossed in, I wanna see it float.

Except now I'm kinda getting hungry and I get distracted, wander over to the fridge, there's leftover appetizers in there from last night's event - hell to the yeah. I scoop up a bunch of those little cocktail dogs for my breakfast and suddenly we're in heaven. I grab a bunch of other stuff too, I'm starving here bro; frozen hash browns, half an egg sandwich, one of those little fruit cups - they won't care if some of it goes missing, right?

I carry my spoils back to my station and snack on half of it. One for me, one for the blender. One for me, one for the blender!

Bro this looks disgusting LMAO.

I hit the button and it all starts getting mixed together into a weird rust color and then it's like haha whoops, forgot to put the lid on. I slam that sucker on before my precious concoction goes flying. Pour it in a fancy cup, garnish it with some staple hot sauce, a big ol' curly straw, badabing badaboom.

I smile so hard it hurts (gotta hide that you're dying inside) and plunk it down on the display counter.

Food poisoning's curable, right?

presentation
sMi3zf1GGv1-10

taste
1-10

hangover cure
1-10

tiebreaker
1-20

Nutritional Information: none at all
Ingredients: 4 shots of pink whitney, 1 cup of black coffee, 2 cups of tomato juice, 1 dill pickle, 2 cocktail weenies, a handful of frozen hashbrowns, 1/4 of an egg sandwich with extra cheese, half a fruit cup & a dollop of hot sauce

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[[ retro gm ] angel lí ✨]

"hello sluts! welcome to the live. we're at the young love in panem set! wooo!!! hi, @whoreforloregaultier! hey, @jemsgems! hey @snowstombstone! ew, @hoe4roux, give risky her account back you loser... blocked, eugh. anyway! heyyyyyyy! yes it's early i'm sorryyyy, thank you for your support! who's watching this morning? if you @ me a picture of you watching today's ep i'll follow some people back okay?"

---

"anyway, we're live testing these drinks! *throws up peace sign* i'm gonna prop you guys just up here.... against this blender... is this a cute angle? yes? you guys are so cute! okay let's go, first taste test....


oh jesus- are you trying to poison me? you know i've got 12,000 witnesses on live right now? jesus christ... marley, don't drink that. eugh!"

---

".......................rude. anyway,,,,,,"

---

"what did i say about trying to poison me? this genuinely-- i think i might vomit just looking at this.....,,, oh-- *sniffs and gags* oh jesus here we--





...you guys. no joke, this tastes amazing. looks like absolute ass but... is that hot sauce? oh my god.... i want to vomit but in a good way, like a tac yak. you know what i mean guys???"

[✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]

If you're ever curious about what a mix between three beehives, a table saw and the dam in Five running at full speed sounds like, just spend the night in bed beside Axel Morrisen. Dude sounds like he might be dying at any given moment when he sleeps. At one point, around two or something, I think he stopped breathing and I started panicking thinking about how I might have to give him mouth-to-mouth. Don't really know how that shit works, I think you just kiss 'em or something?

Anyway he started snoring again a moment later and I went back to thinking about smothering him with a pillow instead.

Somewhere in there I fell asleep. I don't remember doing it. One moment I was laying on my back, staring up at the ceiling and the next I opened my eyes and was like, an inch away from Axel's face. Our limbs were tangled together, guess that's what happens with Axel though. He's tall and warm and I'm small and usually cold. Must have gravitated towards him as I slept despite all his noise.

Embarrasing. It should have been at least, but we both kind of just laid there for a moment, looking at each other and I noticed something about him I didn't want to see. I rolled away before I could put my foot in my mouth but it was too late, I'd seen it.

That sharp, jagged thing in his gaze. I know what someone whose been broken and was never put back together again properly looks like. Seen it in the mirror every day, right?

I wash my face in the sink and Axel reads me an article about a psychic squirrel from one of the magazines in the rack beside the toilet. He sits on the edge of this massive soaker tub and I pop a zit that came up overnight from all the layers of makeup they put on me yesterday. Domestic as hell.

We leave the room together even though I draw that out as long as I can. It's nice being in here, just the two of us. Even though half the gumballs are gone and the lake isn't as pretty out the window without the lanterns, it's like a private little paradise. Axel holds the door open for me with a goofy grin though and I mutter a soft, "Fine."

We're halfway down the hall when, "Morning lovers!" suddenly cracks out through a speaker which has got to be an inch from my ear. "Fuck!" I jump a little despite myself and then lean into Axel a bit to try and pretend that maybe I just tripped a little. I wasn't scared.

Hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet and we've already got a new challenge. I lean on the counter and Axel pours me a cup of coffee as Jemima speaks. I trade him a danish from a carton beside my elbow.

The challenge seems easy enough. I try not to look at anyone else. Everyone knows that Lysander's my sister, everyone knows about her drinking problem. What they don't know is that it runs in the family. My mom used to send me to the kitchen to fetch her a bloody mary most sunday mornings. After awhile I just learned how to make them myself.

I finish my coffee before getting to it.

Tomato juice in the fridge, a jar of olives and pickled asparagus. Worcester sauce and hot sauce in the cupboard, salt for rimming the glass and a cocktail shaker is already handy. They couldn't have hinted harder if they tried. I stand there shaking my concoction absent-minded as Axel dumps things into a blender and turns it on full blast.

"You know, kind of fuckin' hilarious, but I'm pretty sure the vodka part of this drink cancels out the hangover cure," I say to Axel as the sound of multiple blenders going off drowns out my voice. Whatever. Hangover cure my ass, morning drinks like this are just an excuse to keep drinking.

Since I'm here and I've still got time, I make one for myself too before sliding some olives onto a toothpick and dropping a spear of pickled asparagus in as a garnish. Then, my little addition is a wedge of lime juice squeezed on top for that little extra pep.

1. presentation

0ToajFkBNr1-10

2. taste

1-10

3. jem's hangover cure

1-10

4. da pep!

1-20

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[ines izar d11a 🖤 cait]

One thing I hadn’t accounted for when signing up for the show was that the world would soon become very acquainted with my perpetual blonde bedhead.

Don’t get me wrong, I love early mornings. When the first rays of sunlight hit my face and warm me from the inside out, that’s how you know it’s gonna be a good day. And so begins a ritual of self-care: complete with yoga, a shower, freshly washed hair and breakfast – homemade granola with coconut yoghurt and fresh berries, preferably.

I’ve barely finished my morning meditation and made my way into the bathroom when music starts blaring through the speakers. A voice follows shortly after, and I walk back into the bedroom to listen closer.

“Rise and shine and meet me in the kitchen!”

“But I still have to do my hair…” I’m just moaning to myself, though, because half the room is still covered in crumpled bedsheets and throwing pillows over their faces to shield their eyes from the lights automatically turning on.

One of which includes Eneas.

It takes more willpower than I’d thought it would not to jump straight back into bed with him.

“And hurry up, I’m thirsty!”

Dammit, alright. Looks like I’m not getting any morning naps. Or getting to finish doing my hair. I drop the brush in my hand onto the bed with a long sigh. No point even attempting to untangle those knots without washing it first. Blonde bedhead time it is, I guess.

At least my pyjamas are cute!

Eneas holds my hand on the way downstairs and doesn’t let go even as we gather in the kitchen, and that’s gotta count for something right? Feels like progress – a tiny victory. Jemima Quartz is there already, looking picture perfect with diamonds for eyes and flawless, powdery skin. I catch snippets of her instructions for the mini-challenge instructions, mind wandering as I stare longingly at her perfectly curled locks. If I’d just had another hour to get ready…

“These drinks aren’t gonna make themselves!”

I choose not to ask why we’re making cocktails at 7 o’clock in the morning. Just like I choose not to point out the fact that half of the kids in here are underage. I’m not sure how popular voicing such thoughts would make me on the literal second day of the show.

“Hey Jem! You strike me as a Vodka Mudshakes kind of girl!” Trylle’s obnoxious voice is the loudest of the bunch, rising easily above the noises of the others getting to work. I roll my eyes at him as he presents his sad excuse of a cocktail to Jemima who all but vomits it right back up after taking a cautious gulp.

“Trylle, you moron. She’s obviously a mimosa girl!” I turn to look at Jemima and smile sweetly at her when she catches my eye. It’s only a fleeting glance, though, as she turns back to her phone to chatter away to her thousands of fans not a moment later.

The grind never stops!

Someone turns on a blender and I cringe at the sound of the machine struggling to chop up whatever disgusting things have been dropped into it. I give Eneas a quick kiss on the cheek – just because I feel like it, too bad if he grumbles about it! – before letting go of his hand and looking in the fridge.

Mimosas are the perfect breakfast cocktail. Not too heavy on the liquor but still strong enough to fuck you up if you forget to keep count.

Most importantly, they’re literally impossible to mess up. Quick, easy and delicious? A winner for sure.

presentation + taste + hangover cure

lJ9VS0oDiZ1-10 1-10 1-10

1-20

Grabbing three large oranges, a knife, a juicer and a bottle of Prosecco, I get to work straight away. Trylle’s first mistake was using the bottled juice in the fridge – hand-made is always best! I pour the freshly squeezed juice and some prosecco into a champagne flute, alternating the liquids as the glass fills steadily. Admittedly, the drink looks a little boring, but I hope that the vibrant canary gold colour makes up for the simplicity.

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[alex 🐺]

She wakes up far too fucking early. The alarms are blaring all around them and Lux’s had been having the most glorious dream in which she and Oli were—speaking of Oli, the brunette groans underneath Lux and Lux finally opens her eyes, threatening beheading at whomever wanted to get her attention at—was it really seven in the fucking morning? Lux moves her hand, fingertips grazing warm skin and—

“Good morning to me,” she exhales with a rasp, retracting her hands from Oli’s chest, despite her fingers lingering a bit more than they probably should. “Oh fuck, it’s another challenge isn’t it?” she sits up, the covers falling to her stomach. Thank goodness she had the bright idea to toss on a silk romper before they had opened up the—was it the fifth bottle of champagne? Something like that.

The room was fine. Modest even, because Wolfie and Axel got the honeymoon suite or whatever it was called, but at least the bed was comfy, even though Lux had slept more on Olivia than the bed, but minor details. 

They shuffle down the stairs, Lux trailing behind Olivia because she was chivalrous and because she wanted to sneak a peak of Oli's backside, duh.

Blinking back sleep and praying to all the gods for an espresso, because they hadn’t even been allowed to change or brush their fucking teeth before the challenge was upon them, the idea comes to Lux in a flash of inspiration and when it’s her turn to wow Jemima who is just—god, she’s fucking cute isn’t she? Lux gives Oli a kiss on the cheek— “for luck” she whispers, before tossing a wink to Arcadia because, she’s only human and two girls are always better than one particularly when it comes to sharing a bed. Arcadia stands behind her own workstation, a determined look on her face. She was cute when she was concentrating. 

Lux grabs the ingredients, tossing them all in the shaker and adding a little bit of hips and ass to the movement, hoping to catch someone’s eye—Jemima’s, Oli’s, Arcadia’s—whoever!

“I mean, it isn’t coke, but it should wake you right up, right? Cheers, darling!’

Espresso martini -
Mama B’s favorite drink during a night out

2 ounces vodka
1/2 ounce coffee liqueur
1 ounce espresso, freshly brewed (hot as the devil's tits, or Vanya's)
1/2 ounce simple syrup
Garnish: coffee beans

presentation + taste + hangover cure

EL4n0fLnh71-10 1-10 1-10

1-20

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah]

Sounds blare through the house and it has a curse on your lips, your eyes peeling open ready to shoot the dirtiest look you can manage at the asshole who decided it would be approbate to wake you at- SEVEN? seven fucking am. But there is a weight on your chest, a body stirring next to your own and suddenly last night comes crashing into you and you squint at the blonde who pushes herself into a sitting position, messy blonde hair falling down her back. Lux Bellisario was gorgeous, and last night you had shared one too many bottles of Champagne, leaving you with a pounding head and a dry mouth and-

"Morning lovers!" A voice blares through the room and you groan, rolling over in the bed you toss a pillow over your ears to drown out the chirpy voice. No one should ever be this happy this early in the morning, and if they were you sure as hell didn't trust them.

But then Lux is climbing out of bed, dragging you with her and your protests stopping long enough to rack your fingers through your hair, it was a mess! But you give up knowing that their was no saving it- oh well, just another thing to cause your darling mother to cringe. You could imagine her pulling out her own hair at your appearance, a thought that had you walking into the kitchen with a new found confidence and a careless attitude.

In the kitchen Jemima Quartz waits, spear on the counter top behind her an arrangement of glasses and supplies to make a morning cocktail, or something along those lines, to be honest you were distracted. During her explanation you had been trying to decide if you were mad at her for waking you up at this godawful time, or if you would let it go because damn Jemima Quartz was standing before you and the girl was a stunner.

In the end you decide to let it go.

In the next breath Arcadia is calling Trylle a moron and you cant help but grin, ready to jump on the Trylle trash talk train but then you are reminded that you too had to make a drink, and pronto.

Lux squeezes your hand brushing a kiss across your cheek and you watch her walk away, tossing all sorts of ingredients into a shaker, shaking her ass just as hard as the contents of her cups. Grinning you move to your own work station, keeping it simple you pull out the ingredients for what you believed was known as an Irish coffee. You flick on the coffee pot waiting for it to boil, your fingers quickly snagging the can of whipped cream which you generously squirt into your mouth as you wait for the ding that signalled for the coffee to be finished.

It doesn't take long and you pour a generous serving into a glass mug. You add some whiskey and sugar stirring for a couple moments before swirling some of the whipped cream on top.

presentation + taste + hangover cure

6BJv0AvvBu1-10 1-10 1-10

1-20

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[ryan]

You are still kind of living in the fantasy world that your mind created. All of this was pretty jarring, actually, confusing to be quite honest. You had never thought of love to be a competition, but Petelia made it very obvious that it was the case here. You watched as she sent yet another person home, and to be quite honest, you felt bad.

However, you did not want to confuse that feeling with the feeling that you were feeling for Ty. At the end of the day, you were not ashamed of your choice, in fact, quite happy with it for the day. Second place wasnt too shabby anyway. Especially for a small town girl living in this lonely world.

You think about Bella, and how she might be half proud of you and half confused. Seeing as she never really seen you in this type of light. You would always be little miss innocent. It was time to strip that away. Panem would get to know Marley Rose, raw and uncut.

---

You wake up next to Ty and you feel somewhat relaxed. You both stayed up a little longer than usual just trying to chat and at least get to know each other a little more. He also had family in the games, he came from a career district, and he claimed that he knew his way around a kitchen. You shared some of the those interests, except for the career districts. But you told him about your garden instead and how he had reminded you of a daffodil. Bright and always shining. You both laughed before passing out, the experience of the first day really taking it out of both of you.

You are pulled out of your beds by some force of your own and walked out of the room. You were met with cameras and a bar cart full of what looked to be alcohol. Jemima Quartz had been seated not too far from it, and had looked like she had been out and about all night. You were curious to know if all the Quartz acted like this, probably so, but that wasnt your business now was it. You gave a light smile as she explained what the mini challenge was going to be.

You had never tasted alcohol before, but that did not mean that you were a stranger too it. Jemima had gone on about how she did not feel good after a night out of partying, and you had a feeling that it might have something to do with her stomach.

You watch as everyone had gone up and began to create concoctions for her to try. Ty had gone first, and the moment she put it to her lips, she had spit it out. You were slightly worried, because he had handed you one as well. You had a feeling that maybe you shouldnt try it, but you had always wanted to know what alcohol had tasted like. You lift the cup to your lips and take a small sip. It did not taste as bad as Jemima's reaction to hers was. But you put the glass down quickly after.

You didnt want to risk it ruining your own chances.

You stepped up and gave Jemima a smile. "My housemother always liked these drinks that had ginger and lime in them." You look at the bar cart and locate exactly what you were looking for. You pull forward a bottle that says ginger beer, a bottle of vodka, a piece of ginger and a whole lime. You remember exactly how your housemother had liked it. You halved the lime the squeezed as much as it as you could into the mug, before putting some ice, and then poured some vodka and ginger beer. You grabbed a straw and mixed it around before slicing a piece of ginger on a bias and then placing it into the cup. A lime wedge created, and you felt accomplished as you handed it to Jemimia.

"In ten, we call this a mule." you gave her a small smile before setting it next to her. "The ginger should help with any sort of stomach issue and the lime should help with a headache." That is what you were always told when you made them for the housemother.

Presentation
dZlGHGjpzo1-10

Taste
1-10

Hangover cure
1-10

Tiebreaker?
1-20

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[kap]

The challenge of making a cocktail was one that I should've felt a bit more ready for. My family makes wine, sure, which isn't really a cocktail, but we run our own bar, on top of having our own vineyard, so realistically, mixing drinks isn't new to me. I'm oftentimes the bartender at our bar, and people seem pretty satisfied with what I make. I suppose the difference here was that I was actually being judged on it, and it was a competition. This wasn't going to be as easy as giving some drunk guy back home another vodka cran.

I had to think of what fancy Capitol folk would like. What did the upper, upper class "luxury" people of District One typically order at our bar? We were rather high end, so we certainly had options. I thought for a moment, trying to wrack my brain on what Regalia Terrance would've ordered the last time she came into our bar. She was a fancy fashion designer in One, and certainly quite sophisticated and wealthy.

Then I remembered her specific martini order, and new that was what I would have to make. I just had to hope they had all the right stuff here.

As the other contestants made their drinks, I witnessed Hermes drink his himself. Some people made good-looking drinks, others made ones that made me uneasy to see. I just hoped she liked what I had for her.

It was seven o'clock in the morning, which definitely wasn't the ideal time for an alcoholic beverage competition if you asked me. Then again, our bar back home in District One was open as early as ten o'clock in the morning some days, and some people would come in already drunk at times. So, I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me that a competition run by Capitol folks would have us making mixed drinks at such an early hour.

I started making the drink, grabbing the ingredients I needed: gin and vermouth. I measured out the amounts I needed rather meticulously and put the drink together in a martini glass. Then I remembered: I needed a garnish if I was going to do at all decently with the presentation portion of things. So, I used an olive for that, carefully placing it to look just right as it rested where it was supposed to.

As I made this, I did what my father always told me to do as a trick to make it taste better. I wasn't sure if it actually worked, as it seemed like superstition, but he told me that, while you made the martini, to also glance at an additional unopened bottle of vermouth. It was a strange habit he had, but whenever he did it, the martinis did seem to taste better.

He would say, when making your martini, to do it this way: “With gin of course. Stirred for 10 seconds while glancing at an unopened bottle of vermouth.”

Thing is, the first time I made it, I didn't realize I also needed an open bottle of vermouth to mix into the drink. Otherwise it'd just be gin. Now, however, I do it right every time, and our best customers always seem quite satisfied.

I just had to hope this was satisfying enough for Jem. As I brought the drink up to her, I gave her a charming smile.

"For you, gorgeous," I told her.

-----

562 words

[Dionysus makes a martini for Jem]

(presentation)
xmT_kQTQkZ1-10

(taste)
1-10

(hangover cure)
1-10

(tiebreaker)
1-20

table by Rave

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[gamemaker ☢️ ivan korsch]

Everything feels a little regimented for Trish. Up at zero seven hundred hours, she is surprised they did not sound a bugle. It is something her father does. Basically, it is just like being back home, a scheduled day with every hour filled. Even through the night, they likely had cameras on Trish and Psyche in bed, hoping for a little spicy moment to plaster all over their television screens.

Except nothing happened last night. Trish slept like a log. Probably snored. She doesn’t care.

Trish paces around the room where everyone is brewing up their concoctions. The thought of drinking a strong cocktail at this hour makes her stomach churn and groan. She just hopes they will actually serve breakfast at some point. She piles her ingredients onto a table next to a one of the plastic jugs: lime juice, sugar, mint leaves, soda water and most importantly white rum. The methodology is quite simple, none of this shaking and blending nonsense. Just stirring.

Trish muddles the lime juice, sugar and mint leaves in the jug, crushing the mint as she goes by using the end of a conveniently found rolling pin. Then she pours in the rum, stirring the spirit in with the strong minty limey potion. She serves it with ice in a tall glass. Garnishing it with more mint leaves and a cut of lime.

”You should always start your day with a fresh minty mouth.” Trish says, handing over the mojito to the host, flashing a wink to her and the cameras. ”Especially the morning after…”

presentation + taste + hangover cure

avyHtqOyT51-10 1-10 1-10

1-20

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[Tom]

Morning is always a torrential tide of emotions. Waking up in a bed that is not her own with another head of hair beside her, spread out in waves of it's own along the pillows underneath. Psyche's always been someone to wake up early in the morning. The sunrise was always apart of her day, staring into the orange sun as it rises over the water wishing for happiness from the gods and goddesses of Four. As the sea of Beatrice rests before her, Psyche just let's herself stay quiet. The morning was always a time for her to reevaluate herself, as if the sea were quiet and her thoughts could make it through the way her head is always filled with a crash ocean. Nothing happened the night before, but Psyche could feel them being watched. With a kiss like theirs, the capitol surely would think something had to happen, but instead, they slept.

As if the ocean calmed them herself, they slept hard. Beatrice only snored slightly, but not enough to bother her. In the morning light, Beatrice looks like a goddess herself. Bathed in the light of the sun, she shines with his light as if born from the ocean itself. Psyche lets herself get up, swing away from the bed as she prepares for another strange day. Nyra would surely be getting a stern letter later, but Psyche had actually enjoyed her time so far, even if she was still shy from all the chaos from before. As she's preparing for the day, it's when another woman walks in, waking them up with a cheery voice. Soon enough, they're being shown to the kitchen.

After the challenge is announced, Psyche can feel the panic of not knowing what drinks regular citizens have. Breakfast would have been nice before a challenge, especially one about alcohol, but Psyche knew the capitol wasn't able to be calm like the oceans of four. They've always been a storm of clouds, thundering and striking lightning down as if the world should be ending always. Psyche's own hands reach for ingredients planning to make a drink she'd seen Nyra make for one of their sisters. Sex on the Beach is the common name, but for them, it's always been Beauty of the Sand. Either way, she could make this work.

Collecting cranberry juice, orange juice, some vodka, peach schnapps, and some vodka, Psyche begins to put the drink together. Focusing on the precision of her own hands, there's a worry she won't get it right, but she still tries. If she's fucked this up, may the ocean cry her tears. At least, she's made a drink once or twice in her life. Most of the sisters could make a drink, especially since they always help out. Together over everyone else. As Psyche puts together the drink, she reaches for an orange garnish and one of those awful beach umbrella amalgamations that look nothing like the ones that'd be on the beaches of four. It's just not practical. No one would be safe under an umbrella like that.

Bringing the drink forward, she smiles to Jemima as she sets her drink down. "I brought to you the Beauty of the Sand, just for a gorgeous woman like you." A brush of her hair as she throws it over her shoulder in a teasing tone looking back to the niece of their host. "Hope you enjoy, just know it's as messy as the real thing." The words feel stilted on her tongue, but she was running out of anything to say. Smile and pretend like the show doesn't make her awkward at all. It was going to be a long day. Jemima might have the day right. A drink to start the day might be what she needs too.

Presentation:
YqMP8hvAOY1-10

Taste:
1-10

Hangover Cure:
1-10

Charm:
1-20

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[lance]

It's a wonder that he's still here, honestly.

Not that he's intentionally being self-deprecating, but- look, Achilles was self aware, okay? He knew he'd gotten off to a slow start, knew that his scores were going to be far from satisfactory, and hey, he was far from the most confident person on the block. Sure, he'd picked up steam towards the end there, but it had appeared to be too little, too late - not quite worthy of being in the bottom of the barrel, but pretty damn close.

To be frank, he'd already envisioned it all on the television - Achilles Zhao, the flop son of the Haus of Gaultier, sent home with his tail between his legs because he didn't know how to kiss properly. How embarrassing would that be? Like, for real?

But then, suddenly, he didn't have to go home. He didn't even have to wait all that long - because with pick number five, Carly Volkov had chosen him. Him. And sure, on paper it made sense - they were the two fan-voted contestants, after all, both on the cusp of not even making it into the competition in the first place so of course their underdog story would be the perfect narrative for the cameras, but still. All the people here, and he wouldn't be the odd one out. He'd be moving on and staying in the competition.

It was hard to believe. But he already knew that imposter syndrome was a little bitch, and well, it'd just have to suck it up this time.

It's no less surreal when he wakes up the next morning to what amounts to a blaring horn. Even when the general feeling of W H A T T H E F U C K ebbs from his brain and it registers that oh, he's in bed with a pretty girl who somehow hadn't budged an inch, he finds himself having to pinch himself to really register that, yeah, he's still here.

I mean, picture it. Achilles was a pretty mild-mannered boy back in Eight, still navigating his way around manhood and all that, so to say that he'd wake up having spent the night in bed with a girl would have turned more than a few heads, even if nothing had happened beyond awkward yet endearing smiles and a strange fluttery feeling in his chest. And why wouldn't it? He was a romantic at heart, lightly teased but never discouraged back home, and this sort of stuff wasn't up his alley.

Granted, neither was waking up before ten in the morning when he could help it to make a cocktail for a grumpy producer. But he hadn't signed up for this to expect to stay in his comfort zone the entire time. That would have been boring. And hey, this way he can get some romantic experience before inevitably being sent home, right?

But right now, he was having maybe one single regret, if only for the fact that he hadn't curbed his night owl habits and was running off of maybe five hours of sleep if he was being generous, to the point that by the time he finally reaches the kitchen, there's already several others hard at work. And there he was, hastily dressed, bleary-eyed, hair spiked up on one side thanks to some good old bedhead.

Good thing this is only a prelude, he thought, resigned. 'Cause being late to my first two challenges ain't a cute look.

To be fair, neither is making a drink. Sure, he knows the basics - one doesn't practically grow up in the Haus of Gaultier without some aspects of hedonism bleeding through - but at seven in the morning, with little prep or instruction? He'd be more likely to poison Miss Grumpy than actually cure her hangover.

Well. He supposed that would technically cure her hangover, but then he'd probably see the guillotine as a result for killing a Capitolite. And he much prefers his head on his shoulders, thank you very much.

He finds an unclaimed corner of the table, grabbing his basic ingredients - vodka, ginger beer, a lime, and his ace in the hole, a blood orange. A unique taste on a mule that he'd learned, one of the first drinks he'd ever tried, and a damn good one too.

Of course, because his luck is the way it is, he's three quarters of the way done before he hears the girl from Ten - Marley? He wasn't sure, only that she was not on his kissing list - talk about her drink. Which is, of course, a mule. Fuck my life.

But well, there's no turning back from here, and he hasn't been told that if he fails this he'll get sent home, so fuck it. He'll do a mule, too, but in his own way. And better.

(Look, Achilles gets petty when he's tired. It's nothing personal, just competition).

Truthfully, when the finished product is served, ice cubes and all, he's less than confident at the final product. Mixology was an art, okay? And though he wasn't a complete noob at it, he was still very much a stick-figure artist when compared to a Vincent van Gogh of making cocktails.

Honestly, if he can just get through this without poisoning Miss Grumpy, he'll call that a win.

"We have mules back in Eight, too," he said when the aforementioned lady stepped up to inspect his entry. "But mine's unique - less minty, more like myself." His free arm raises, wrist remaining limp in a if you know, you know sort of way. "Fruity."

But all the faux confidence in the world can't change the fact that when Miss Grumpy takes a sip, his heart skips a beat. And not in the fun way.

presentation!

Ww_w7NxZxJ1-10

taste!

1-10

hangover cure!

1-10

charm!

1-20

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-20

[[ retro gm ] angel lí ✨]

I can't say that throwing up live on POLA was on my bingo card for today, but there's a first time for everything. Luckily it's not the hour - although I was damn close. Some of these were deceptively good looking and tasted like absolute ass.

At the halfway mark I can't tell if I feel nauseous from the quality of the drinks or from the alcohol, but at least I'm feeling a cute little buzz. Smart of the ones who have clearly mixed drinks before to go last, let the clueless ones show everyone what NOT to do. Little hearts burst rapid-fire on my screen and I look a little pale, which is so not cute.

This is not the vibe!

I swallow bile back down and grimace, "Please tell me the rest of you know how to make a drink, fuck!" -- and thank god they do. They get better and better, making little remarks live on camera as the emojis that flood the gradient of chatter turn from disgusted to entertained.

They save the best for last, my brain fluttering in-between tipsy and tired. "Now THIS is a drink!" I exclaim, knocking it back it one swift movement as my phone explodes with notifications.

"You!" I point at the boy who had just crafted the fruit concoction, "Make me another would ya? This is delicious."

Turning back to my phone, I wink at the lens. "Whatever they're teaching this kid in Eight, it's a hit! Bye lovelies, thanks for tuning in!"

Blow a kiss, take a few selfies, before I realise these kids are standing around looking dumbfounded. A producer catches my attention and lifts it from my texting thumbs, signaling for me to wrap it up. "Oh! Right," forgot I was live on air to the entire country for a minute.

Whoops!

"Fruity Mule, you win I guess. Enjoy your breakfast! And tell the others who slept in that they're ugly."

Snapping a pic of the cocktail before pinning off the barstool, all in a day's work.

"Oh, and what's your @?"

---

hey lovebirds - thanks for competing in your first mini challenge!

the winning mixologist who has scored themselves an advantage going into the day 2 challenge, and IC get a yummy cooked breakfast date with the competitor of their choosing is..... Achilles Zhao!

for added drama, this +1 competitor you invite to breakfast does NOT have to be the other half of your ship!

see you cuties later! x

x