#alicent with her knife and more importantly. 'alicent?' 'who the hell is alicent?'

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Smth smth rhaenicent winter soldier au alicent is the winter soldier

[nightingaelic]

Companions react to the Courier doing the Infinite Money Glitch in casinos.

I had to look this up, OP, and then I had to conceptualize how this would even work in a storytelling context and write it, anyway I hope you're pleased with yourself because my brain feels like a stack of used sandpaper sheets

The courier had been saving up caps for a while, stashing them in odd places around the Lucky 38. Everywhere you looked there were bottle caps: Dresser drawers in the Presidential Suite, empty ice buckets in the cocktail lounge, in jars on every shelf in the penthouse. Saving up caps for big purchases was pretty common behavior in the Mojave wasteland for anyone, so no one batted an eye when the courier assembled all of the stashes on the carpeted floor of the casino and started counting them out, checking six times before stringing them together in batches of 50 and writing down the final total: 32,768.

No, no one so much as blinked when they lugged all 656 strings of caps out the door of the Lucky 38. No one, that is, except the lucky soul who went with them, saw them exchange all the caps for chips at The Tops Casino, then drop the chips in the back of The Aces theater during Bruce Isaac's set and return to the cashier to collect triple the amount of money they walked in with.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade cringed as the courier struggled to drag the haul of caps out the door of The Tops. The jingle of the cap strings was attracting the attention of just about everyone on the Strip, and someone across the street yelled "High roller!"

"This can't be legal," Arcade said.

"Since when..." the courier huffed and puffed, throwing cap strings over their shoulder carelessly, "... do you give a mole rat's ass about legality?"

"What is this?!?" Arcade hissed incredulously, gesturing to the jingling pile. "Is that cashier paying you off? Are those chips the currency for some wasteland tribe I've never heard of, but somehow have a better exchange rate than the NCR does? Did I just witness a payout for a hit on someone?"

The courier sighed and paused to pat the scientist on the shoulder. "Just don't think about it too hard, okay? Now help me out with this, we're going to Doctor Usanagi's to get me tricked out with as many implants as she has on hand."

Craig Boone: While the courier jingled their way across the Strip asphalt, Boone couldn't help noticing the number of eyes turning their way to stare at the enormous payout they were openly carrying. New Vegas was already a town that kept on trucking if its very creator was killed, that was certain: It wouldn't even pause if its latest mastermind was gunned down over a fortune in steel and aluminum crowns. Boone clutched his rifle close and met as many of the curious and envious stares as he could, his own eyes burning protectively behind his sunglasses.

They managed to get all the way back to the Lucky 38 before the courier stopped and spoke to him. "Nothing? Not even a guess about what this is from?"

Boone shrugged. "None of my business. Just don't carry it all at once again. Ever."

Lily Bowen: "Did you win, dearie?" Lily asked, confused. As far as she had noticed, the courier hadn't approached any of the blackjack tables, roulette wheels or slot machines.

"Yeah, Lily." The courier grinned and started handing her strings of caps to carry. "What do you want to spend your winnings on?"

"My winnings?" Lily shook her head. "Now now, pumpkin. You won fair and square, so you get to choose what you buy."

"My treat," the courier insisted. "Anything at all. We could go to the Gourmand for dinner, we could donate to the Followers in Freeside, we could get singing and dancing lessons from the King... what do you want?"

Lily thought for a moment, wracking her brains. "Brahmin for Jacobstown."

The courier looked at her quizzically. "Brahmin? Not bighorners?"

"Brahmin," Lily confirmed, shouldering the strings upon strings of caps. "Bighorners at Jacobstown will make more bighorners, but they have no brahmin. Brahmin are sweet, easier to handle. But no one will sell brahmin to nightkin."

"Okay." The courier nodded. "Then we have to go to the Gourmand for dinner anyway. I know a guy at the Ultra-Luxe who might help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Dios mío," Raul muttered under his breath. "Who did you kill for the Chairmen? They finally paying you back for getting rid of Benny?"

"Pfft." The courier waved him off, dropping a few strings of caps as they did. "Whoops. Help me out here, and I'll buy you a drink."

"A drink?" Raul laughed. "Not the whole bar? You could probably convince the Garret twins to retire if you gave them half of this haul."

"And why the hell would I want to take over the Atomic Wrangler?" The courier shook their head as they loaded the old ghoul up with caps. "I already have one casino I'm incapable of running. The only customers I get are you and the other Mojave misfits."

Raul grinned. "Hey, you invited us in, amigo. We're just the only ones loco enough to ignore the robots and take you up on it."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Oh, sweet squirrel stew." Cass' eyes were as big as the dinner plates in the casino's restaurant. "That's enough change to buy the Van Graffs out of business. That's enough change to tell Alice McLafferty to stick it where the sun don't shine, then back it up with enough muscle to scare her out of the Mojave."

The courier nodded and started handing her strings of caps. "It is also enough change to start funding her competitors and drive her out of New Vegas."

"Now you're talkin'." Cass smirked and accepted the extra weight. "So who're we gonna back? Far Go? The Water Merchants? Gun Runners?"

"Actually..." the courier smiled. "A little birdie told me that the Mojave Express is looking to expand its horizons. Start offering goods in addition to services. And you know me, I like to root for the home team when I can."

Cass laughed. "Well that's a surprise. You plannin' on playin' courier again? Get yourself shot in the head a second time?"

"Not if I can help it."

Veronica Santangelo: "Uhhhh, Six?" Veronica crossed her arms. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to stir up trouble for a bit after the adventure at the dam. This screams 'trouble' to me."

"Aw, lighten up Veronica." The courier winked at her and handed her a string of caps, like a consolation prize. "We're in a casino. The odds aren't in your favor, but at least you can have fun for a bit."

Veronica turned the offering down. "Math may not have been my strongest subject when I was in school, but I do know that 30,000 minus 30,000 does not equal 90,000, under any normal odds. What are you getting yourself- and more importantly, me- into?"

The courier sighed. "It's nothing. Just a little loophole I discovered when I was poking around after Benny's disappearance. I promise, we're not going to get knifed, unless we get waylaid in the street on the way home because I'm too weighed down to move."

Veronica narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I don't trust this," she said after a few beats, "But I'm also not keen to see you try to fight off a mugger while buried under all those caps. Give me some of that."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped, confused, when the courier stopped it from picking up the chips again. Its beeps increased in volume and frequency as they loaded the little bot up with caps at the cashier's counter, until it was hanging low in the air and having trouble turning around from the increased weight. The courier patted its metal dome reassuringly and loaded up the rest of the haul on themselves, until each step they took sounded like a cascade of sleigh bells.

"Back to the Lucky 38," the courier said, pointing toward the casino door. "I've got a bet I need to settle with Raul."

Rex: Rex whined as the courier hung strings of caps off his back. He sniffed each new addition but stood tall on his metal legs, taking the extra weight admirably until he was virtually buried by the wasteland currency.

"Can you still walk, boy?" the courier asked, when they had lightened their own load.

Rex barked. Satisfied, the courier led the way to the exit, opening the casino door with a jingle and ignoring the strange looks they were getting. The two waddled their way to the Strip's main gate and down the main street of Freeside until they staggered into the King's School of Impersonation.

The King, who had been lounging inside the stage room, jumped up when he saw the pair. "Well ain't that some money, honey," he said, clearly delighted. "You actually went and did it."

"Yep." The courier dropped some strings of caps on the nearest table and leaned over it to rest. "There it is. Now, where do we get started on fixing up Freeside?"

[huntress-of-stories-and-dreams]

Shokugeki no Soma: Fifth Plate - OP analysis

Hi guys! 

Since this week’s episode will be the last before the delay that has touched half of this Spring Season’s aired shows, let me present you the analysis of Shokugeki no Sōma’s last opening, “Last Chapter” by nano.RIPE. Keep in mind that this analysis will contain spoilers, so...

If this doesn’t stop you, then let the fun begin.

The OP starts with a purple curtain with Tōtsuki’s emblem, showing that the story happens in the theatre called the Tōtsuki Academy. It’ll be important a bit later.

This shot (and some smaller ones concentrating on smaller groups) presents the established after the Regiment de Cuisine Elite Ten Council and new Headmaster. From right to left, it shows them in their seat order:

10th Seat: Megumi Tadokoro playing plates, which represent her famous hospitality

9th Seat: Nene Kinokuni playing a roller used in soba preparation

8th Seat: Etsuya Eizan shaking expensive wine bottles, showing his “Alchemist” side

7th Seat: Takumi Aldini holding his mezzaluna

6th Seat: Alice Nakiri dancing with a fork and a spoon, used in eating her molecular cuisine

5th Seat: Ryō Kurokiba with a pot used in cooking sea food

4th Seat: Akira Hayama playing on a frying pan with cinnamon

3rd Seat: Terunori Kuga playing his wok

2nd Seat: Satoshi Isshiki with chopsticks and a plank to serve his signature Japanese food

1st Seat: Sōma Yukihira holding his knife

Dean: Erina Nakiri conducting them with a ladle

The lyrics in this sequence is worth noting (source: https://www.animesonglyrics.com/food-wars-the-fifth-plate/last-chapter):

How beautiful the melody has to be To be able to reach that girl who's been hurt The girl is obviously Erina, hurt by her father’s ‘teaching’ and people’s attitude towards her becasue of the God Tongue, who, thanks to Sōma’s and their friends’ (but mostly Sōma’s) cooking, starts to enjoy cooking. This is the beautiful melody - sincere cooking.

One last note about the lyrics, because if I analysed it in its entirety, it would take me ages - the song is sung most likely from Sōma’s persperctive.

The next shot shows Tōtsuki Academy hill on spring, sigifying the new year (most of our chefs are second years now) and new beginnings. At the front are the three Headmasters, though from Nakiri household, each of them is different. Senzaemon stands tranquil and firm, looking at the Jewel generations students, Azami looks as if he was trying to convince the world to change their ways - both of them are sure of their work, unlike Erina, who’s hands hugging her body and darkened eyes show her uncertainty.

Next is the title panel, swiftly transitioning from fire to snow to finally sparkles and cherry blossom, showing Sōma’s path from conquering (usually he was the one to bring fire) to protecting - this will be important later. Also, Sōma seen in this frame has just begun to cook his dish.

After the title, let’s skip to the big character exposition panels! First we have the peach themed frame with Nakiri girls: Erina, Alice, Ikumi (who, at the beginning, was working for the God Tongue) and Hisako. The peach may represent feminity, as there are only girls in here, and luck.

Next one’s the Polar Star Dormitory group shot with all of its residents present, with apples in the background. While apples may refer to various dishes cooked by Sōma and Megumi that included these fruits, apple symbolises youth, which is often brought up by Isshiki, Madame Fumio and Jun Shiomi. 

Then we have a lemon-themed shot with Sōma’s “rivals” (apart from Isami, he never was battling Sōma on his own - it’s a reference from their first encounter during the Hell Camp). One of lemon’s symbolisms is freshness, which perfectly fits each of their meetings, bringing freshness into their lives.

Finally, with cherries signifying maturity, we get to see the original Elite Ten Council members. 

Each group pannel is separated by a dish frame. It’s important that only the white backgrounded frame has dishes prepared by various cooks - the rest were cooked by (from upper left to right) Sōma, Erina, Megumi and Takumi. This shows their strong connection forged in the Tōtsuki Train arc, where they were together, and predicts all of them participating in BLUE.

Until now there was no clear shots focusing on strictly Sōma - now’s the time they are here. We get shots from his early past, reminding us also of the Karaage Wars arc, and from Stagiaire. Each time he’s standing in the bright light, surrounded by cherry petals, symbolising him being ‘spring’, beginning of the new era. The light here is very bright and yellom, as if he was standing on a stage - remember the opening shot with the curtain? Sōma is this story’s main hero, the one that iniciated the whole process of change in Tōtsuki.

The contrast between Eishi and Sōma in this frame is spectacular - gourmet cuisine vs family diner, autumn vs spring, showing how Sōma became Eishi’s successor to the First Seat in the Elite Ten Council. Look at how gorgeous they look with flying maple leaves and cherry petals flying around them!

(keep in mind Tsukasa’s red kerchief/tie, this will be important later)

The sequence right before the chorus is so full of hidden meanings! The first frame of this sequence is Sōma, standing in the light, probably on the top, reminescenting. His signature headband, now on his left wrist, is connected to...

... his late mother, Tamako Yukihira! This is the first time we actually get to see her, besides the covered in light family photo from the very first episode. I love the gentle difference of colour shades between Sōma and Tamako - Sōma is bright as the light around him while dim shades of Tamako imply her being already in the realm of shadows, however she returns for a brief moment to life everytime he starts cooking. The frame is full of love and support Sōma got from her, showing how important she was in his life. His signature headband is most likely a memento of her - it’s the thing that keeps them tied after all these years.

It quickly changes to Erina tasting one of Sōma’s dishes, seemingly taking pleasure from it. This screen (and two others, each getting closer to Erina’s blushed face) indicates Sōma’s desire to make Erina say ‘delicious’ - she’s the one he wants to make happy with his cooking. His mother was first btw :)

Sōma’s knife is brightened by cherry petals - it shows his power coming from his cooking, cumulated in the cutting edge. This is the blade of change.

Finally, Asahi Saiba appears! As you can see, he’s the one surrounded by flames, it’s not Sōma anymore. The leader of Noirs is the one who wants to disturb the balance. There is also some similarities between him and Sōma - their cooking look is similar, probably because both of them were raised (though differently) by Jōichiro. Also, he has a signature red kerchief around his neck, similarly to Eishi, however his kerchief isn’t loose on his neck, it’s tight and Asahi used it to cover his face, also covering his true intentions.

This shot presents the famous BLUE fortress where the contest takes place. The frame shows the entire building, particularly the final building where the Bookmaster is staying, in the fantastic blue light, not calming as it may look like, but giving the one looking at it chills of excitement. The moon also reminds of the Autumn Selection and the Moon Banquet, taking place at approximately the same time as BLUE.

Erina, held by Asahi surrounded by Noirs, is clue to one of this arc’s plot, as her freedom depends on Sōma’s ability to win against Asahi. Yes, it looks like she’s the damsel in distress - it’s direct parallel to Erina being ‘imprisoned’ by her father.

There’s also a group shot of all of the WGO judges that we have met and the ones that we’ll meet during BLUE, of course on a blue background.

This frame is very intriguing. There is a silhouette visible behind the two fighting cooks - it’s Mana Nakiri, Erina’s mother and the Bookmaster, the one behind all of this. There is an astonishing contrast between Asahi and Sōma - Yukihira wields a single, pink (like the cherry petals) blade while Saiba has two, which refers to his special ability, the Cross Knives.

Finally, FINALLY Sōma gets his presenting shot. It’s worth mentioning that Erina was the first one to be presented - this is yet another way of showing their connection. She’s the beginning, he’s the end. Or maybe the other way? 

In both this and the following frame we can also see Sōma being on the top/looking at his opponent from the top, foreshadowing his victory against Asahi in BLUE.

This screen presents the two possible destinies of Erina: the upper is with Sōma by her side - most of their bonding moments take place under the starry night, so this shot is really meaningful, the nether - Erina as Asahi’s bride. While they both stand in the same place, the upper destiny seems more realistic, as the nether looks like a mere reflection of what could happen and the duo from the top is the one that moves a bit the water.

Note: Sōma and Erina were supposed to get married at the end of the series, but creators didn’t have enough space. The couple however has been claimed as canon.

This is the final group shot of all Tōtsuki students we came to love, watching sakura blossom at night. It’s simply beautiful, watching their silhouettes near the bright water, cherry blossom and Tōtsuki Academy. This frame is full of love and reminescense...

The penultimate frame is a direct continuation of the ‘destiny’ shot. Sōma and Erina are standing here, together. It’s gorgeous, beautiful, showing how close they have become and that a bright future awaits them, written in the stars. The lighting of this frame, warm and delicate, gives us a sense of intimacy and fondness.

The last shot presents a dim silhouette of Sōma who ended his cooking (it’s the position we often got to see either on the episode’s numer frame or at the end of the episode) and, most importantly, Sōma walking away in the sunlight. It predicts Sōma’s parting from Tōtsuki to travel around the world, just like Jōichiro once did, but with a difference.

There is no storm to swallow chefs who want to reach the top.

Sōma and his cooking dispersed it, saving himself, his friends and Erina from it.

[eddiemunscns]

just a northside princess.

pairing(s): sweet pea x lennon wright

warning(s): language I guess?

word count: 1177

author’s note: I guess this is my official introduction of Lennon? This is set during 2x04.

Tagging: @allie-of-asgard @sgtbuckyybarnes

It was a never-ending cycle. At least, it seemed that way. First, they acted like they couldn’t stand each other. Then, all the pent up sexual frustration gave way to a steamy hook-up. (Usually in the backroom of the Wyrm.)  Cue an awkward conversation where neither of them truly let on how they felt about each other, add the smallest dash of optimism, followed thereafter by one of them somehow managing to fuck things up, and that’s basically Lennon and Sweet Pea in a nutshell. 

It felt different this time though. The argument at the Wyrm felt pretty final to Lennon. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” The brunette stormed into the Wyrm like a force to be reckoned with. She already knew the answer though: he hadn’t been thinking. He’d acted out of anger. There was no other explanation necessary.

“Shouldn’t you be patching up your Bulldog boyfriend, Princess?” Lennon seemed to be making a habit out of showing up when Sweet Pea was in the midst of a round of pool. 

“Seriously?” Lennon couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. “You of all people should know that nothing is going on between Reggie Mantle and I.”

The brunette’s emerald eyes widened slightly when the tall Serpent turned around to stick her with a steely glare. “Well, it sure as hell didn’t look that way tonight. You two looked pretty damn cozy to me.” Images of Lennon placing her hand lightly on Mantle’s arm when he attempted to square up and threaten Sweet Pea flashed through the raven-haired boy’s mind. 

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now.” Lennon shook her head in disbelief. She thought that they were long past this. “Not that I owe you any sort of explanation, but, for your information, I was helping Amy study for the big Chemistry test we have tomorrow!”

“Oh, and I guess that Mantle and the rest of Andrews’ group of psychotic followers just happened to show up at the house tonight then?”

“Yes, Sweet Pea, that’s exactly what happened! Do you really think I would willingly hangout with Reggie after he cheated on me?” She didn’t hold grudges for long, but she wasn’t that forgiving either. The fact that he assumed that something was going on with her and Reggie again boggled her mind. 

“I don’t know, Lennon,” Sweet Pea punctuated his words with a shrug of his shoulders. “maybe you would. You seemed pretty protective of him tonight, maybe you two reconciled.” 

“I was trying to maintain the peace between the Northside and the Southside!” Lennon exclaimed. This was not the conversation she expected to have tonight at all.

He couldn’t help scoffing at her words. “Maintain the peace? There’s no peace left to maintain, Lennon.” There had been very little peace between the Northside and the Southside to begin with. Any peace that remained, despite FP’s arrest, dissipated the second Archie Andrews pulled a gun on him and Fangs the night prior. 

“I told you that I was going to take care of it! Do you not understand what you’ve started?” She had already confronted Archie about it at school today. He just made matters worse by showing up tonight. 

Sweet Pea scoffed. “What I started?” The tall Serpent punctuated his words with a shake of his head. “The Northside has had it out for us for years now, Lennon! I didn’t start anything.”

“I told you not to get involved! Starting something with Archie Andrews is only making matters worse!” She almost told him that he was just proving people like Alice Cooper right about people from the Southside, but bit her tongue. They were already arguing, things didn’t need to escalate more than they already were. 

“He pulled a gun on Fangs and I, Lennon! He started this, not me.” That was a lie. Archie told her what had happened when she talked to him this morning. Sweet Pea provoked him first. He pulled a weapon first. He posed the first threat. Archie claimed it was self-defense on his part. Lennon didn’t necessarily think pulling a gun on someone was the equivalent to pulling a knife on someone, but that was a completely different issue. 

“So you didn’t pull a knife on him then? Because you forgot to leave that tidbit of information out when you called me last night.” She didn’t know if he had intentionally left that part out last night, but it was too late to take it back now. She said what she said.

“I was freaking out last night!” It was Sweet Pea’s turn to look at her in disbelief. “I didn’t intentionally keep anything from you. I never have.”

“And I have?” 

“You sure as hell didn’t mention that you were dating Mantle when we made out at the drive-in that night.”

“Why do you keep bringing up Reggie?” Lennon didn’t get it. She didn’t understand why he mattered. She had made it pretty damn clear that she wanted nothing to do with the football player anymore. “Maybe I did fail to mention that he and I were dating at the time, but that was months ago! That has nothing to do with the fact that you just started a goddamn civil war with the Northside.”

A bitter laugh escaped Sweet Pea’s lips as he shook his head. “You’re not getting it, Lennon. You’ll never get it because you relate to people like Mantle and Andrews more than you’ll ever relate to someone like me.”

Lennon was silent for a moment as she tried to process what he was saying. “I--what are you saying, Sweet Pea?”

“I’m saying that nothing is a big deal to you Northsiders, because you have everything that you could ever want. You’re always going to choose their side, and I’m always going to look like the bad guy, because you’re just a Northside Princess who felt like rebelling for a little while.”

Her heart slowly began to break as he spoke, and still she waited until he was done before speaking. “You know what? You’re right. This was a mistake. You were a mistake.” She blinked a couple of times to try to will away the tears welling up in her emerald eyes. She was pretty sure that they had an audience at this point, the last thing she wanted was to let any of them see her cry. 

More importantly though, she didn’t want him to see her cry. She didn’t want him to know that he had broken her. Her attempts were futile though, the hurt apparent on her face. She noticed what appeared to be regret flash across his. “Lennon, I--”

She shook her head. “No, you’re right. I don’t get it. I’m just some Northside Princess.” Her voice betrayed her, cracking slightly as she turned on her heel and walked out. 

“There are a lot of people that you have the right to be pissed off at right now, but she isn’t one of them.” Toni said from her spot behind the bar.  

[bloodinhershoesrpg]

WHEN THE CURTAIN DROPS…

Think of yourself back on the day, try to see what has turned you into what you have become. Distant seem the days of lace on lilac cotton dresses and golden locks of hair, those that used to be as soft as your now bruised heart. Your life was not at all bad, in fact, those days were filled with dream-like sequences of the upper class in the East Hamptons; untouchable and spotless inside mansions ever so similar to overpriced dollhouses. Reveries would come and in the same way, they would go, as your hero turned flesh — your best friend, your secret keeper, your backbone — would pull yet another card from under his sleeve asking you teasingly if it happened to be your card. Infantile giggles grow distant inside your mind, pushed into its darkest corner as you pull your own sleeve down in nervousness; how sad it happens to be there are no aces up of it, just cracks you struggle to hide. It hurt you to think of your childhood only because it lasted so little, parties and games to be replaced by a mother who had more than wine mom issues, and a father that would soon drop his role of Jeu de Cartes’ joker, to turn into an enraged beast. Ballet was always a great part of your life, the melodious arrangements you now dance to used to be your lullabies, now the ghostly charm they hold hurts almost as much as what you had to witness -- turns out all the screaming and all the circling drains of reproaches and apologies would begin to make you numb, until you found yourself at the most perfect point to escape, only to realize there was little left for you to feel. If anything.

…YOU SHOW YOUR TRUE COLOURS

Flash forward eight years with a ballet career to your name and an estranged older brother, your walls are painted dark instead of baby blue, and the music box you packed by mistake has gotten broken now fulfilling the somewhat comical function of an ashtray. The honour was yours to play Odette just a year before, a vision as delicate and pearlescent it was hard for others to believe who you were once the curtain had dropped. Here your reputation is sought after while your life in America could not have been any less lugubrious; anyhow, how many ballerinas around you can brag of nearly stabbing their father to death? Oh, of course, that is something you would rather not to discuss, no matter how nitid it stays in your mind — the gruesome red adorning your tennis skirt when you whipped your hands, makeup smeared all over your face as you answered repetitive questions with your feet hastily hanging out of a parked ambulance. Your hair was so long it covered your face as you looked down in shame, perhaps confusion, momentarily dragging you away from the scene just to think you should probably cut it soon. Crows would circle your once beloved dollhouse, happy to pluck portions of you right out the moment you got carried away just to write a motive: Self-Defense, on the dotted line. It was easy to assume and easy to judge when it had not been them the ones whose lives were short of any sort of peace, when it had not been them whose money would cover the mouth of many; house staff, tutors, nannies, just to keep the dirty secret under lock. What scares you the most, however, is not what you did but to find yourself thinking you should have done it better.

VICTIM OR CULPRIT?

You don’t find it a bit funny to have a Shakespearean name, as Desdemona James happens to be, so just Mona gladly suffices the name tag ordeal; whoever chooses to call you differently is often glared at. At age twenty-four there is plenty you are still capable of offering, the latest of your dancing roles being Little Red Riding Hood, because if there is something you happen to enjoy is giving fairytale characters your own little touch of morbidity. Some may say that, under layers of dark eye makeup, you could pass as the twin of Brie Larson. Otherwise, you remind them more of an insomnious Hugh Jackman.

IN RELATION TO

RHIANNON CONNORS: The perfect mess found her perfect roommate, never minding which of you two is each, Rhiannon Connors could not be any more fitting in terms of coexistence. There are little people you actually let in, the taste of guilt crosses you every time you refuse to speak of your past in front of her, for trust is something you two claim to share. Perhaps is suspicious for none to say a word about the lack of family pictures hung on the walls of your foyer, leaving so much room for interpretation it could easily get dangerous. Little does she know, but the kind of talent she has at almost a blatant display often makes you insecure about your own, at the end of the day your part is more of a “guest star” with little consistency while hers is well-versed into the production. ENLAI ZHANG: It’s easy for you to get vexed if those around you talk too much, as it is when they speak too little. For someone who has worked with Cristina and Katerina for years -- in the name of all things holy, with Theodore, for instance -- it definitely puzzles you to have Enlai as the silent one in the corps. Well, unless you happened to be around, the friction between the two of you never reached hostile lands, yet it does not mean you’re necessarily amiable, either. If Alice in Wonderland took place within the walls of the opera so many would play no roles but the queen’s hollow-headed court, the queen being Daphne in the flesh, giving him the role of no less than the visibly scarred, haunted and scattered Mister Mad Hatter. ALIONA CHERNOVA: Not like you would get easily attached, in spite of having done so countless times before, but there are pretty good chances you would miss those smoke breaks by the side of Russian dancer Aliona. The two of you make quite a grim little team, silently judging everyone from the choreographer to the subscribers, increasing the pollution of whichever place you are in. There is a touch of royalty in her, as her mannerisms are hard to ignore, so very distant from your bluntness. Anyhow, many bring to your attention not just your similar characters but your rhyming names — it seems like it’s a bit too late for you two to claim the roles of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

WHAT YOU SHOULD KNOW

Chances of Survival: Average Applicant must be open to portraying dissociation, domestic abuse Faceclaim is slightly negotiable (suggested alternative: Halston Sage)

Starring: Maggie as Desdemona James

TW: child abuse, violence

Lullabies, love, the smell of lavender. These are things Mona thinks good childhoods are made of. There was a little period of her own that felt like that. Her big brother, Damen, made her early years joyous. He’d play hide and seek with her, cover her ears when their parents, Ariadne and Bill, were fighting. Cover her eyes if they couldn’t escape the room in time. Nothing hurt so bad to see when she knew her big brother was there to protect her. Time goes on and children grow into targets. Hand shaped bruises were for mother to hide, not children. Not for awhile. But things can only get worse when you live with a forest fire for a father and a bundle of twigs for a mother. Mona had two escapes: time with Damen and ballet.

Just because things were often tense at home doesn’t mean Mommy and Daddy didn’t want the best for their children. Damen was put in only the finest music programs to cultivate his gift for piano, and in turn, Mona was placed in the most prestigious of ballet schools in the area. Time together between siblings was often spent dancing and playing the keys together. Damen would try to get Mona’s little hands to reach all the keys for a chord and Mona would try to teach Damen to plié. They brought comfort to each other in times of trouble - and it seemed as though times were often of trouble.

Damen, being five years Mona’s senior, began to get out of the house as a teenager, leaving Mona to herself. With Damen around less, more attention was directed at Mona at home - and attention she did not want. Her father was hateful, possessive, and often showed Mona that she belonged to no one but him.  She made friends here and there in school, but eventually became withdrawn. She used to confide in friends at sleepover what kind of a maniac her father could be, what kind of blithering and oblivious drunk her mother was. Some friends even told their own parents out of concern. Nothing ever came of it. If there was one thing you could say about the rich, it’s that “family affairs” were kept within the family. And what good were friends when they added no chances for survival? As Mona grew up, watching her brother moreso from a distance, she threw herself deeper into ballet. Damen was no longer a confidant and a protector, but rather a warm memory and occasional reprieve. Friendships were replaced with alliances. “If we push each other, one of us might get the part.” She would go straight to ballet practice after school, complete her homework there, and not come home until she was certain that dinner was ready. Then, she’d try her best to go unnoticed until bed time. Sometimes Bill was occupied with other things, and other times he was firmly focused on making Mona’s life hell.

Life, while often hard, was not as bad as it could have been. That’s what Mona always reminded herself of. She had food, clothes, a brother who loved her even if her parents didn’t seem to, and most importantly, a passion.

Things changed in the time it takes to pick up a knife.

It was Christmas time. Damen was home for the holidays. Mona’s mother was somewhere in the house, sloshing around and weeping over one thing or another, as usual. Mona, for once, had gone out to socialize. A tiny crush on a peer from her ballet class had inspired her to go to a party out on a yacht. Yes, Mona came home late. No, she hadn’t been drinking. She reeked of other people’s cigarettes, and someone had spilled a glass of very expensive champagne all over her beautiful new tennis skirt. No parent would have believed she hadn’t been up to no good. Not many parents would react in the way that Bill James did, though. He tried to corner Mona, screaming accusations about her behavior and her virtue. Years of practice allowed for her to escape from him several times. She ran into the kitchen, simply because it was the closest room connected to the hall that led to her bedroom. But fingers ripping into her scalp, that familiar pull as she was yanked back and off her feet stopped her short. There was a struggle. A counter’s corner dug deep into her gut and a blade glimmered before her in the dim light from the moon in the window. It didn’t take a thought. Mona remembers the pain in her gut from the counter - then the look of horror on Damen’s face and his mouth moving around the words, “What have you done?”

Ambulances, police vehicles, handcuffs. It’s all a blur, especially after eight years. Mona doesn’t talk about it. What is there to say? Bill wasn’t even out of the hospital before Mona had spent all of her money from birthdays and christmases to find a home out of the country. They decided not to press charges, brush this under the rug just like every other painful and violent event that had happened in that house. The James family has enough money to pay off any and every individual who knows how or why Desdemona James stabbed her own father that night.

At sixteen years old, she left her parents behind in America as soon as she could, and with them, Damen. It was painful, but the rift that grew between them after that night was worse than the pain of leaving. He never understood her decision, because he had never seen the way their father had turned on her as they grew older. At least Mona can blame the physical distance between them for their estranged existences.

Now, in another country, Mona’s life is all too similar to those days she spent alone with her ballet. Only now, without the attacks from her father and with the sting of repressed memories and a bitterness over the childhood she wishes she’d had. Performance is still Mona’s strongest skill. One hones these abilities when living a life full of deep, dark secrets. Ballet keeps Mona busy and satisfied enough. Still, the weight of Mona’s past bears heavily on her shoulders. Regret colors her thoughts, only in ways that she can never admit. It’s one thing to regret stabbing your father - but it’s another entirely when your only wish is that you’d managed to kill him.