District Nine Bake Off - Auditions Week!

[🌱 kaitlin.]

MAYOR SHIV
IRVINE

Put a decade of service under their belt, it turns out it's pretty easy to forget why a person signs up for the job they're working.

Shiv has begun to see the truth of that in most things. She avoids the starkness of it staring back at her in her office mirror. Miller pulls attention anyway as he rattles off the latest plague numbers ahead of our public gathering from where he perches by the corner of the desk, ever the loyal aide; she's begun to consider him a partner in crime these days, a conscious attempt to uncouple herself from the walls she'd attempted to barricade herself behind.

Shiv has learned to value change. All she wants now is to grow for an age, sprout new boughs and drop seeds that catch on the breeze to grow roots somewhere else.

"Good work," she says through the reflection before spinning to look at him head on. "Now see if you can scrounge something else up with the Keepers before they pack up for Six this evening."

Plans and schemes, that's what the job turned out to be. It's fairly easy to tire of.

In funny ways, it's Maryn Hale who reminds Shiv why she said yes when Talon came knocking all those years ago. After all, it had never been power and influence Shiv was signing up for; at the end of it all, she just wanted to look back and know she had done good for those who'd come next. Now kids crowd into the District Square for the Bake Off auditions, sometimes trailed by their embarrassed, uncomfortable parents, in other cases being led by their overzealous, oblivious counterparts. No matter what way she spun it though, no matter which direction she looked, one thing was clear; the Council had been right when they suggested the Bake Off would bolster district morale.

Audition week, and the square was already packed.

Shiv makes a mental note to make sure the setup crew gets a hefty tip, then an extra verbal note with her assistant when she realizes all the booths even fans setup under the tables to help cool contestants despite the warm summer heat. Countless tables line the square, rigged together to create groups of workstations.

"Welcome, everyone! Let's get baking shall we?"

CALLING ALL AMATEUR BAKERS AND
HOME CHEFS! AUDITIONS LIVE!

Hello friends and citizens of District Nine! Welcome to Bake Off, the Capitol's fully funded, televised reward to the district for its continued efforts to fight the Rose Plague, as well as their positive performances in the Hunger Games in the recent decade. As you all know, this is AUDITION WEEK! Citizens have been encouraged to come to the District Square, which has been outfitted with several kitchen workstations that provide access to all manner of items needed to successfully bake. Signups have been available for several weeks ahead of audition week, but late minute sign ons are also encouraged at the tent south of the square. Contestants must be 16 years of age or older to participate, or have a parent willing to sign off on their televisation!

This thread will stay open until April 12th, and then we will move onto the official Round One of the baking contest. Auditions are being filmed by a professional crew, and footage of participating contestants will be edited for distribution release later.

To qualify for Round One, post below rolled 5 [1-10] dice to account for the five judges that will be rating your dish. If 3/5 dice rolls are a 4 or higher, then that means a judge considers your dish successful enough to put you through to the televised portion. Congrats! If you don't pass 3 or more dice rolls by rolling 4 or higher, then you're out! Thanks for participating.

All contestants are eligible to collect a set of coupons for use in participating grocery outlets.

THIS WEEKS CHALLENGE: BAKE A PIE!

[d1f october rhapsody fray ❁]

FLIP JONES. 

on the signup sheet it said: "flip jones", which, to be fair, is my name.

i don't know who wrote it there, but i have my suspicions. i considered letting mayor irvine know it was a mistake, have her remove it, but then i thought, what the fuck, i can make a cake. how hard can it be? it's not like i have anything better to do with my afternoon, and besides, you get food tickets for participating. and you might get to be on tv, without having to kill anybody. 

i arrive with my sleeves already rolled up. i have consulted my mother for advice. in all of my living memory, she has never baked anything, but apparently before i was born she had a signature cookie recipe. she told me: never be afraid of vanilla essence. i repeat this over and over to myself as i wait for the start, sweat dripping down my back. summer has crept up around us and today it is out in full force. 

the district has really gone all-in for this one. there are little tables, set up with mixers and other equipment i've never seen before in my life and can't possibly imagine a use for. there are bags of flour as big as my baby cousin. the crowds are almost as thick as reaping day, and the mood is much more jubilant. the buzz gets to me, stirs up something in my stomach that cannot possibly be nerves. 

i find my bench. it is marked with my name and difficult to miss. there is a tiny little fan installed, blowing the warm afternoon air back in my face. how thoughtful. the timer begins; mayor irvine announces, in her commanding voice, that we are to make a pie. i've always thought she was kind of hot, in an old lady kind of way. i'm never not impressed by a power suit.

a long minute passes in which i stare at the ingredients and realise i have no idea what i am doing. my mouth has gone dry. i tell myself, strictly, that i am not to panic. panic will be my undoing. boys who panic do not bake good pies. instead, i look frantically from bench to bench for somebody who looks competent. my eyes settle on a girl two rows in front of me, who is already three steps into her pie, moving around deliberately. she looks at ease, in control of the block of butter she is dispersing into her flour. her hands are deep in her mixing bowl, her brow furrowed with concentration. got it. 

i go on this way until i have crafted an inauthentic pie, a direct copy of someone else's grandma's recipe. several times throughout the process, she got too far ahead of me and i had to make some big calls, but despite the lack of specific quantities what i put in the oven looks like a pie to me. i am impressed with myself. i run my finger through the remnants of the filling in the mixing bowl and lick it. it isn't half bad, if a little too sweet. while i wait for the girl to decide that her pie is ready, i make a note to thank her later, perhaps ask her for her name.

the pie emerges from the oven a little burned, a miracle. i allow myself a brief daydream of fame and fortune and fast cars before i hand it over to the judges, my life in their hands, steaming, in pie-form. 


120pUKxjWD1-10

1-10

1-10

1-10

1-10

(the judges hate the pie, bar one, who perhaps feels sorry for flip. it tastes like shit, which is to be expected, really.)

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-10·1-10

[[ retro gm ] angel lí ✨]

jules adroxis.

( yes it's late don't @ me! )

So I gotta do the heavy lifting because fuck knows nobody else will. Picking up the slack, here I come with my mop and bucket: clean up on aisle Adroxis, the Keepers are cracking down. Pah! I can hear them giggling on the landing as I stomp out of the house dressed in the most god-awful outfit with a goddamn wicker basket of ingredients to boot. A wicker basket.

Who's idea was this again? Ugh, who fuckin' cares. What matters is I'm doing it so they won't call on me for the more violent tasks like fileting a body mid-torture or breaking another finger. It's not that I'm scared to do those things - they're just... gross? Like... you didn't hear this from me because you're just the voice in my head and you can't tell a soul anyway but we kinda do this to ourselves? The whole wanted criminal gang bullshit like...

Look. Great Uncle Grandpop Babe had a good thing going back in the day because he had to, post-uprising and all. But nobody says we have to continue 90-odd years later? Things could be a lot easier for all of us Androxis' if we put down the guns and stopped thinking we were badasses and just... went to work? Got real jobs? I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm dressed in pale pink and yellow but I don't really feel like a badass. I just feel... tired? And that this is all getting a bit ridiculous.

But until someone else realises this whole schtick has gotten old I gotta put in the work, make it seem like the Adroxis family have turned a new leaf with the Peacekeepers tripling in numbers as of late. So yeah, I'll go attend a fucking baking contest dressed like a fairy's sparkly shit. Doing my part! Blood over water or whatever the fuck... ugh.

So. Pie! Fuck knows how to make that. But it's like, one big cupcake right? With filling? Big smile. Big sparkly good little Adroxis girl smile in front of the judges when I present my extremely large cupcake with berry filling attempting to masquerade as a pie. Fooling no-one, not even myself, but hopefully fool someone. Storm owes me BIG time for this. Look at me. I look fucking ridiculous.

Shit. Did I turn off the stove?


judge 1:
sjVPytrRet1-10

judge 2:
1-10

judge 3:
1-10

judge 4:
1-10

judge 5:
1-10

1-10·1-10·1-10·1-10·1-10