#chimney who's married to a runner

[rimatsu]

i'd rather the helicopter crash after the reconciliation. but i can see the appeal of buck keeping tommy's heart beating after being told he'll inevitably break it. the poetic irony of cpr <3

[chroniclackofselfpreservation]

OC Mistborn One-Shot

AO3

Summary: Morticia Erikell is set to be married to some nobleman's son she's never met, and despite her talent with Allomancy, many consider her ill-fitted for a life of espionage, much less life in the court as a noblewoman. When the truth of her heritage is revealed, she flees Luthadel to make a life for herself.

TW: mild verbal abuse, disapproving mother, sick parent, arranged marriage mention

A/N: At the moment, I have no intention of continuing this piece, but that isn't to say I never will. Just a heads up.

Tish crouched on the peak of a roof behind a chimney stack, the mists curling around her. Her feet were beginning to go numb from lack of movement, but she ignored them, fidgeting with the ends of her mistcloak in anticipation. A thin blue line appeared, sprouting from her chest and extending toward the waist of the thin figure alighting on a roof across the street—right where the palm-sized sack of coins was attached.

“You’re bigger than the chimney,” the figure called, hands on his hips. “So you wouldn’t exactly call it an effective hiding spot, would you?”

Tish bit the inside of her cheek, Pulling her own bag of coins from where she’d deposited it down the street as a decoy. She rose to her feet.

“We’re done for tonight, Krill,” she said, attaching the bag to her own belt. Krill leaped from his roof, his trajectory shot up in a second arc as he dropped a coin to the street and Pushed himself the rest of the way to her side.

The nobleman was scrawny—as scrawny as someone eating three meals a day could be, that is—and tall. Yet Tish’s silhouette still dwarfed the man. She stood a full head taller than him and was far… wider.

“Listen, Morticia. You’re a talented Mistborn, I’ll give you that—”

Tish lifted an eyebrow. He’ll give me that, will he?

“—but you aren’t… built for this kind of work.”

“Krill?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion on the matter,” she said with finality, throwing a coin into the night. It flew farther than even her tin-enhanced eyes could see, but she could hear the tiny plink as it hit the street. Krill shook his head, but said nothing. According to him, normal Mistborn didn’t fling coins so far ahead of them in case they didn’t jump far enough to Push off of it.

Tish didn’t have such a problem—or rather, she knew how to deal with it. In two steps, she’d reached the lip of the roof, allowing gravity to tip her forward until she was angled just so. The muscles in her legs contracted and sent her flying into the night. She nearly reached the other side of the street; no Allomancy needed. Pushing gently on a closed doorhandle, she redirected herself down the street instead of across it. The ground was fast approaching, and Tish burned iron. Blue lines appeared, and with only seconds to spare, she located the coin a few feet ahead of her. Too far.

She Pulled as fast as she could, igniting her Steel at the same time, and Pushing the coin into the ground. Tish’s toes brushed the street as she began to rise again, an exhilarated whoop pealing from her lungs and echoing through the silent mists.

Krill ran alongside her on the rooftops, only Pushing across the larger gaps between buildings.

Tish avoided rooftops when she could. She wasn’t exactly the most stealthy, let alone a quiet runner. Each time she thundered across the shingles, she couldn’t help but picture dust raining down on an unsuspecting citizen in bed, startled awake by the pounding on their roof.

Krill swerved off into the night toward his home, Keep Lekal, without so much as a nod her way. Despite the alliance her house had with his, she wouldn’t be surprised if her mother received a letter from Lord Lekal himself, regretfully informing her that his Mistborn had better things to do than waste his time training one too large to be a proper spy.

The night air was cool, parting around her bulk as she Pushed lightly against her next coin, slowing her fall. The mists obscured the cobbled street, but by burning tin, she had no issue gauging the distance. She rolled to disperse the impact along with a brief flare of pewter. Rocking up to her feet, Tish found herself alone in the middle of a mist-laden street. It was silent—even the helpless skaa beggars that usually peppered alleys in this part of the city had crawled away to seek shelter from the mists. Nobility often scoffed at the skaa’s irrational fear of the phenomenon despite avoiding night travel themselves—though under the guise of more dignified excuses like poor visibility.

Let them think what they wish, Tish thought, twisting her fingers through the mist at her side as if scratching the fur of some ethereal beast. She loved the mists. The fewer people she had to share them with, the better.

Approaching Keep Erikell, Tish dropped a coin. The mansion itself was respectable, but not nearly as grand as Keep Venture or Hasting. Due to the lack of grounds in the crowded part of the city, the building was tall instead of wide and sprawling. Dark iron window panes set into pale gray brick dotted the walls. It used to be white, apparently, but the ash had stained them. The servants could only reach so high without scaffolding of some sort, so her mother instead dangled skaa from the parapets with ropes of varying lengths once a week to scrub the entire exterior. It never returned to white, but it kept the bricks from the near-black residue encrusting most of Luthadel’s buildings.

The one aspect of the keep Tish found attractive were the metal shingles on the roof—and not just because it made it easier to Pull herself up to the balcony of her mother’s still-lit study. They had patinated a gorgeous blue-green. The color was something she’d only ever seen on silken gowns or neckties.

Tish landed as delicately as she could manage on her mother’s balcony, the mists billowing up behind her. The amber light of the gas lamps spilled over her cedarwood skin, chilled from the moist night air. The glass doors were closed, her mother sitting at her desk, facing away from her. She wore an emerald green dress, the casual kind she could wear around the keep or study in, unlike the elegant, formal ones she wore for important occasions. Tish padded across the balcony in her bare feet, mistcloak tasseling about her shins. It wasn’t nearly as long on her as it was Krill—or any other, average-sized Mistborn.

Trying the handle, she found the balcony door latched closed. Sighing, she rapped a knuckle on the glass. Her mother didn’t react, continuing to write something on a piece of parchment. Several seconds passed before she set aside her ink-dip pen and stood.

Brina Erikell turned to see her daughter on the other side of the glass, and though no expression passed over her face, Tish could feel the contempt washing over her. Her mother was not nearly as large as her daughter, though just as tall and of a similar complexion. Her figure was slender as a champagne glass, her neck long and elegant, her fingers slim and delicate. The perfect lady.

Brina undid the latch and pushed the door open.

“You’re back early.” She watched with that same expression, unreadable to most, as Tish strode across the floor with her ash-stained feet.

“Krill didn’t see a point in continuing my training.” Not that he was particularly optimistic to begin with, she thought sourly.

“We got what we needed from the exchange, at least,” Brina said, returning to her desk.

“What good does knowing the identity of one of Lekal’s Mistborn if he also knows about me? It’s a stalemate,” Tish said, almost taking a seat, then thinking better of possibly dirtying her mother’s things.

“Please,” Brina scoffed. “It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out the identity of a female Mistborn with your… stature.”

Right, she thought, wilting. Regardless of how talented she became, anyone who saw her certainly wouldn’t mistake her for a man—not with the curve of her hips and her chest as it was—and there was only one lady in all of Luthadel with a physique like that.

“Lekal gave us inside information,” her mother said, a smile playing at her lips. “We gave him common knowledge. Now, go get cleaned up and head to bed. We’ve got plans tomorrow.”

Tish stopped. “We do?”

Brina nodded, not looking up. “It seems a nobleman from the Eastern Dominance is willing to overlook your appearance in favor of your genetics and wishes to introduce you to his son.”

“Oh,” was all Tish could manage, suddenly feeling faint. She gripped the balcony door for support.

“Lord Ruler willing, you’ll be married by your birthday,” her mother said, picking her pen back up and dipping it in her ink-well. “You are excused.”

Tish nodded, prying her fist from the door handle and crossing to the interior door, numb with disbelief.

“Goodnight, mother.”

Even if she had replied, Tish slipped into the hall before she would have heard. The click of the door behind her shocked her body out of its stupor and a thousand emotions flooded her mind, threatening to spill out in embarrassing and unladylike ways. Of course, she’d known it would happen eventually—it happened to every noblewoman at one point or another. She just hadn’t thought… with her being Mistborn, a small shred of her had hoped she wouldn’t have to.

Tish stormed down the corridor toward her room, but the first window she came to, she tried to force open. It didn’t budge. Taking a moment to pause her anger, she saw that the window she’d chosen didn’t, in fact, even open. She could have easily found another, but there was something cathartic about the destruction. She wanted to hurt her untouchable mother in any way she could.

Tish burned steel and Pushed against the metal framework, sliding back into the opposite wall. Flaring pewter, she pressed harder. Metal squealed in protest as she Pushed with all her might. Tish braced her feet against wall and in one powerful thrust, jumped at the window against her own Push, flaring steel.

The window broke free with a clang, the force of the Push sending it flipping away into the night. Tish sailed through the now open portal, waiting for the blue lines leading to the roof to appear. When they did, she Pulled hard, her fall arcing up and back, as if she swung from a pendulum perpendicular to Keep Erikell, launching her up toward the top.

The window crashed to the ground with a thunderous clang. In the back of her mind, Tish hoped she hadn’t inadvertently injured—or killed—anyone. Latching onto the weathervane atop the keep, Tish kept from running into the edge of the roof, tugging herself up over the sharp metal lip and jogging to a stop on the slick metal tiles.

From here, Tish could see Keep Venture alive with lights from the grand ball held tonight. The fresh air filling her lungs helped to clear her head a bit. She’d been to her fair share of balls in her younger days. In fact, she’d had fun. It wasn’t until the pretty seventeen-year-old had started surpassing the men she danced with height-wise, and when it became harder to lift her, even in simple dances, that she’d stopped attending unless her mother ordered her to. It was the perfect cover for a Mistborn. Too many had been suspected for constantly leaving functions early to go on patrol. Now, everyone thought she stayed away because she was an embarrassment.

That wasn’t the only reason—anymore, at least.

However, given her… unique proportions, any potential mission she would carry out would immediately reveal her secret to whoever saw her—opening her house up to blackmail from other, more powerful houses.

She was a laughingstock as a noblewoman, and she couldn’t do her job as a Mistborn. Really, what good was she?

And now she was going to be married off to some nobleman’s son she didn’t know in less than two weeks. Was that all she could offer her mother? Marriage for a mediocre alliance?

Arden, her only full sibling, was fourteen and already being groomed for eventual lordship—now more than ever. Her father was dying. Leaving his wife to run the estate and make sure Arden would be ready in time to take his father’s place.

Tish lowered to a seat, her anger still there, but dampened by a growing sense of defeat and helplessness. What could she do? Leave Luthadel? And go where? Do what?

There’s always mercenary work, a voice in the back of her head offered. She’d had the idea ever since Krill had mentioned rumor of solitary Mistborn hiring out for random jobs instead of working for their family or a related noble house. How much more could she learn about Allomancy from someone like that? She’d self-taught most everything—Krill really only kept her from impaling herself while learning how to burn iron. That and giving her something to practice chasing. Sure, sparring with Krill had sharpened her reflexes, and increased the amount of strategy she used, but it was no contest when it came to Pushing. Tish wasn’t only stronger, but she also weighed significantly more than Krill. Than most people, in fact.

She looked again to Keep Venture with its glittering lights and gem-toned windows. Tish pulled her mistcloak tighter around herself, bunching the loose strips in her hands. She looked down at the black shirt and trousers her mother had reluctantly obtained for her training.

She still didn’t love how she looked in them, but she could tolerate it. The constant motion and criss-crossing lines of the tassels helped hide her figure, as opposed to the “spilling over” that happened with the dresses her mother had her shoved into.

She could leave. Who would stop her? Certainly not her mother. If anything, she’d be more upset about the loss of potential business with that Eastern nobleman. Who would miss their biggest embarrassment?

From the other side of the roof—opposite her mother’s balcony—she heard other glass doors flung open. Tish burned tin, not moving from her perch, squinting against the now-brighter lights from Keep Venture.

“You need fresh air, dear,” Brina said, too soft for anything but Tish’s tin-enhanced ears to hear. Her father’s voice was even weaker, and she could only tell that he was speaking, but couldn’t make out any words.

She heard her mother scoff. “Probably off prancing about the mists. She didn’t take the news particularly well… Honestly, Herron, it’s not as if she had anything else going for her. She’s an abysmal lady and an even worse Mistborn. Who’s ever heard of a Mistborn like her? She’s no use to us otherwise.”

The words stung, but Tish found she couldn’t disagree. She heard her father’s breathless wheeze of a voice again. Brina sighed.

“I know, but this is what’s best for the girl. Perhaps she’ll finally make use of the body your Terriswoman mother gave her and give us some grandchildren. Normals ones, I hope.”

Her father fell into a coughing fit, and Tish had to grip the roof tiles to keep from simply toppling off into the mists.

Terriswoman mother? My grandmother was… but how…? she thought numbly. She’d only ever seen the few Terrismen other families employed occasionally, and she’d never even seen a woman from their kind before, but…

They were so tall. They were all significantly paler than she, and her father had an even darker complexion that she and her mother. He obviously must have inherited it from his father, then. Why had no one told her this? Tish didn’t know what she would have done had she known, but something like that was too significant to simply ignore. Morticia Erikell had lived her entire life thinking she was some kind of genetic mistake.

Blindsided by the sheer relief that answer, however confusing, brought her, Tish covered her mouth to muffle her sobs as she finally broke down. Her mind was exhausted, having gone from overwhelming frustration at a helpless situation to understanding more about her own identity. It was too much. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t hear the rest of her parents’ conversation, but she didn’t particularly care to.

Tish was one step further on a journey she hadn’t realized she’d been on until that very minute: figuring out who she was. She stood after a moment to collect herself, wiping her hands across her tacky cheeks and fanning her face.

She’d decided.

Tish was going to leave Luthadel. Tonight.

[kathyprior4200]

The Chipper Cleaner

The Golden State of California hosted a melting pot of different cultures, cuisines and languages from around the world. The Great Depression of the 1930s hit families and businesses hard. Many people were out of jobs, some lived in the streets or in debilitated shacks close together. Mexican, European and Asian immigrants were often seen in camps, doing what they could to survive and live through the days. Men, women and sometimes children would help out in the fields and harvest wheat and food. It wasn’t uncommon to hear guitar playing or balls being kicked around or a few songs carried out in the desert air in an attempt to lift spirits up.

 To make matters worse, a terrible drought spread through the nation in 1930. Crops died from lack of water and harvests failed across farms in the U.S. Thousands went hungry as farms and homes were lost. The former prosperous economic growth and glory of the Roaring Twenties was reduced to memory.

 The 1940s would bring about World War 2, more women in the workforce and the internment of thousands of people with Japanese ancestry. For as diverse as California was, racism, sexism and discrimination were still commonplace everywhere.

 In the vibrant city of Los Angeles, California, a nifty little girl was born. Her name was Nerissa, born March 22nd, 1929. She was born to her parents: Hiroto and Akemi Nifuti. Her mother, Akemi was from Japan and arrived to Hawaii. Having only met her husband through sent pictures as a picture bride, she and Hiroto got married on the docks of Hawaii. She was disappointed to hear that Hiroto was older and didn’t have any luxury cars or clothes. Nevertheless, it was an escape from her family duties back in her home country, so she moved and married him. After working on the plantations for a while, the couple decided to move to California, where they lived in a rural area. Their small house was made of wood that was painted red and white.

 Close by their house was a field of wheat, soybeans and tomatoes growing on vines. Or at least, that’s how it should’ve looked during a good harvest. However, the drought had done a number on the family’s crops. The beans were small and dried up, the tomatoes hardly growing at all. The family had to be careful about not spending too much money…they made some of it selling their crops at a local farmer’s market. Thankfully, their jobs allowed them to keep a house and not go broke. Other families weren’t as lucky.

  Niffty’s father was a farmer and newspaper editor and her mother worked at a sewing factory. Since Niffty’s parents were often busy with work, they hired a sitter to take care of her. The sitter was white with brown hair and green eyes, in her early 30s. She would often wear pink dresses with white polka dots on it, her mousey brown hair tied back. Although Michelle Marie Ann was Caucasian, she treated Niffty like she was her own daughter. She watched Niffty crawl, babble, and slowly take her first steps.

 “Yay, nice job!” she said in a cooing tone as Niffty took her first steps across the floor before landing in a heap in her lap.

 Michelle looked over at Akemi and Hiroto. “She’s a fast learner,” Michelle remarked. Both parents were pleased. Hiroto then went out to water what was left of the crops, while Akemi sat in a large room to get a head start on some dresses and hats.

 Niffty started crying again and Michelle rocked her gently in her lap. Michelle let out a soft sigh and carried her to a bedroom to change her diaper.

 Whenever Akemi had time to spend with Niffty, she taught her the Japanese language and etiquette.

 Niffty started learning when she was a couple years old. Her mother would sing her songs and tell her stories. The little girl loved every minute of it. Niffty’s father would smile passively at them, before returning to work or have some drinks.

 Niffty would later learn to write several Japanese characters as well, at least at home or when writing letters to distant family members.

 “Hai. Yes,” Akemi said, with a nod of her head. Niffty copied the motion. “iie. No.” She shook her head, more of a frown on her face, before Niffty copied her.

 “Onegai shimasu? What’s that?”

 Niffty answered. “Please?”

 “Very good,” Akemi said.

 Of course, Niffty had to learn several things the hard way.

 “Nerissa! iie!” Akemi scolded when a four year old Niffty had arrived into the house wearing dirty shoes. She pointed back outside and Niffty slumped back out to take her shoes off.

 “Nerissa,” called her father. “I need your help digging up some dirt out here.” Niffty raced out and grabbed a small shovel. She helped her father dig holes and seek out fresh dirt to try and plant seeds.

 At dinner time, the family had sushi, onigiri rice balls and grilled chicken skewers called yakitori. Niffty was struggling with holding chopsticks. Hiroto had to chuckle as Niffty’s sushi kept slipping from in between the wooden utensils. Niffty reached to pick it up but Akemi stopped her with a glare. Niffty kept her little hand extended, the two members locked in a sort of stare down. Niffty tried using the chop sticks in one hand before both utensils rolled off the table and clattered to the floor. Niffty grabbed the sushi and popped it into her mouth with a giggle. Akemi sighed and slapped her hand to her forehead. Hiroti rolled his eyes and helped himself to more food.

 “Nerissa, dear you still have much to learn,” her mother said as Niffty bent down to pick up the sticks.

 Akemi also showed Niffty the very important duties of cleaning the house and sewing clothing. “I work at a sewing factory,” she said. “And more than likely, you’re gonna work in a similar job if not the same. Watch closely.”

 Niffty watched in curiosity as Akemi sat down and worked both a sewing machine and used her own hands. She weaved string of different colors through loops as she moved the sewing needles around in her hands. Niffty practiced on her own, sewing together a hole in a small cotton cap to start with. She fumbled several times but slowly got used to it. Several weeks later, she had made her first scarf.

 “Quite impressive,” Akemi praised.

 Niffty had poked at her fingers several times, but they eventually toughened up. Muscle memory took over in her fingers for many of the tasks she did. The more she performed them, the easier it felt…and the faster she did them. Sewing on buttons, bows and decorations was Niffty’s favorite part. It wasn’t long before she frequently helped out her mother with sewing and cleaning the house. It became an expectation for years afterward.

 “Scrub harder, Nerissa,” Akemi said as Niffty learned how to wash dishes. “You need to really get the stains off around the bottom rim of the pot. Like this.” She grabbed a sponge and moved it rapidly up and down and in circles. Niffty laughed as she got her hands soapy and wet. On occasion, Akemi would playfully splash her with water. They would have a quick water fight with loud giggles before returning to work.

 Cleaning chimneys was Niffty’s least favorite hobby. But it was one her father insisted she do. “You’ll eventually need to learn it if you ever get a somewhat decent job,” he reminded her. Women were working more, but opportunities were still very limited for them.

 Using thick dusters and other supplies, she could easily fit into the small space. She hated how dirty she got from the soot and ash. Niffty felt like Cinderella much of the time, from the hard cleaning work she did, to fantasizing about going to a ball and meeting a prince. Imagining herself as a beautiful princess helped pass the time. The water in the wooden wash bin would be black by the time Niffty was done washing herself off. She would scrub her skin for half an hour, trying to get the grime off as much as possible.

 Niffty soon she got some exciting news at age six: she was going to school for the first time. She was soon dropped off at Wellis Elementary, a yellow brick building. While at school, Niffty excelled at literature, home economics, art, reading, writing and history. She was also a fast runner in gym class as well. Math and science were subjects she struggled with.

 Nifty would spend hours reading the books in the classrooms. She would often be seen eagerly raising her hand to tell the answer. She had to learn to slow down on whatever activity she did…many of the classmates couldn’t keep up with her!

 “Shorty Jap! Shorty Jap!” jeered a bunch of mean older kids who shoved Niffty to the floor on her way to music. Niffty cried out, tears flowing down her cheeks. A nearby teacher arrived and took her to the nurse’s office.

 “Just a bruise on your knee but it should heal up in no time,” the nurse said as Niffty wiped her tears away.

 “Why are they so mean?” she sobbed. “What did I do?”

 “Those kids are mean to all the newcomers,” the nurse said. “They tend to pick on the little kids in particular.”

 “But I’m not that little,” Niffty said. “I just turned seven!”

 “Sorry, I thought you were four.”

 Niffty lowered her face, black bangs obscuring her forehead. Her face flushed in embarrassment. Her dress was white, her leggings tight and shoes were shiny and black. Her hair was short and black, her eyes dark brown and slanted. Her skin was a light brownish or as some bullies would mock, “yellow.” Indeed, Niffty was one of the shortest people in her class. There were rumors about her having a growth stunt, but Niffty had developed physically and mentally at a fast rate. Indeed, she was smarter than many kids her age.

 “Don’t let them get to you,” the nurse said. “Now hurry on back to class.”

 Fortunately, singing and playing instruments helped Niffty forget about the incident. “I’m gonna be a singer when I grow up!” she declared much to the bemusement of her classmates.

Niffty got home to see Michelle Marie Ann smiling warmly at her, wearing a fluffy lavender dress with a purple bow around her waist. Niffty remembered to leave her shoes outside.

 “How was school?” she asked.

 “It was fine,” she replied in a monotone.

 “Only fine? You were so enthusiastic about it earlier.”

 “Mean kids were mean to me.”

 “How so? What did they do?”

 “They said I was a shorty Jap and shoved me to the ground.”

 A horrific look crossed Michelle’s face. “I’m so sorry, Nerissa,” she said.

 Her parents shared concerned looks in the distance. Sooner or later, their daughter would have to learn the hard truth about who she was and about the society they lived in.

 “It’s okay,” Niffty said. “I still got to learn new things and do the entire alphabet in English!”

 “How wonderful!” Michelle smiled. Niffty was always optimistic, ever the imaginative one. Whenever things got down, Niffty would always see the silver lining in everything.  

 “What did the kids mean when they said that stuff?”

 Michelle sighed, trying to put words together. “Let’s just say that many people don’t like others who are different.”

 Before Niffty could ask further, Michelle said,” I have a surprise for you, sweetie.”

 She dug into her dress pocket and pulled out a stuffed animal. Niffty beamed and took the figure and hugged it to her chest. It was a stuffed pink poodle decorated with white polka dots.

 “Do you like it?”

 “Oh I do I do I do!” Niffty squealed. The two of them shared a warm hug.  

 After dusting a bookshelf, vacuuming the rugs and polishing several appliances, Niffty soon got ready for bed. Michelle tucked her into bed. Hiroto was passed out on the couch and Akemi was up in her room finishing up outfits to sell.

 “Can you read me a story?” Niffty asked.

 “Of course my dear,” Michelle answered. “Which one?”

 Niffty pointed to an orange picture book. “That’s one of my favorites.”

 Michelle picked it up and read the title. “Princess Hachikazuki.”

 Niffty cuddled up in her sitter’s lap as Michelle began. It was like she was transported to another world.

 In the story, Lord and Lady Sanetaka prayed to the bodhisattva of mercy to give them an heir. The beautiful princess was born. The mother became sick and before she passed away, she placed a bowl on the princess’s head. The princess threw herself in a river when people laughed at her but soon, a prince fell in love with her. Although her rival stepsisters tried to separate them, Hachikazuki’s bowl came off of her head, allowing her to win a ladies contest. The couple happily married and the princess was reunited with her father.

 “Oh I just love happy endings!” Niffty beamed as Michelle closed the book.

 A year later, Michelle told her a story that seemed to stay with her. It would be the last story the sitter ever told.

 “Read me a story, please?” Niffty asked.

 “But it’s your bed time, Nerissa,” she said. “You’re getting old for this, according to your parents.”

 “Please? Please? Please?” the little girl pleaded with shining eyes.

 Michelle gave in with a smile. She knew Niffty would always be a child at heart. “Alright, but just one.”

 She cleared her throat.

 “Once upon a time in a vast kingdom, there lived a beautiful blonde haired princess. She lived in a palace with her father and mother, the king and queen. While she was there, she was taught how to sing, play the violin, dance and how to rule with a firm hand. The king and queen loved to perform for their subjects. They would host grand balls for the nobility and invite the well-off to join the fun. There were jesters, jugglers, and an array of delicious food for them to enjoy. All in all the princess was very happy, surrounded by the music.”

 “But as she got older, she learned more about the land she was in. Her father had enforced strict rules on his subjects, and for good reason. Although the peasants, knights, shop owners and caretakers worked hard, they also fought a lot. It wasn’t uncommon for farmers to fight over crops, or fellow knights to raid churches and villages. Disease also spread rapidly.”

 “One day, the princess saw a horrific sight. Soldiers from a rival kingdom arrived and mercilessly slaughtered the citizens! The knights in armor were no match for the guns. After the damage had been done, those who remained had to dispose of the dead and start over, always in fear that they would come again.”

 “Father,” cried the princess. “How could you let this happen?!”

 “My army is no match for the soldier’s guns,” he replied. “They invade and kill my people for the sake of it. But there is nothing that can be done. Perhaps the troublesome workers deserved their fate.”

 “Mother!” the princess cried. “Can’t you do something as well? Those poor people suffer every day out there!”

 But the queen was busy deciding which dress to wear for the next performance.

The princess tried to talk to the people around her, offering to help in any way she could. Many of them laughed and mocked her.

 “A secluded princess trying to help us out?” they asked. “Who does she think she is? She doesn’t know anything at all.”

 Fortunately, the princess befriended a woman warrior to help her out. The woman could live off the land and use any kind of weapon, but she had a bad temper at times. The princess had an idea.

 “What if I run a refuge place to help travelers and my people get along? If not that, then at least, the poor would have a place to stay.” Her warrior friend agreed to help, provided she not get too optimistic about the iffy plan. The king and queen used some of their money to build the building by the trading route, just so they could focus on their own hobbies. They, too, didn’t agree with her ideas. The princess was saddened by her ignorant parents.

 One traveler soon arrived, a man who smoked, drank and often ran around nude. He slept with women and men alike. He was a reckless fighter as well, and had almost died fighting off rival knights on the battlefield. The princess happily welcomed him in, but the warrior wasn’t as pleased. It was slow going, but it was a start.

 Now, the king had many lords and men in his inner circle. One of them was a man who lived in the woods and hunted deer. He often wore a dark cloak and carried a staff with a deer skull on it. But he was also a devious trickster. He was feared throughout the land because of his great skill in dark sorcery. Many people had fallen prey to his curses, poor and wealthy alike…he loved making deals.

 When the sorcerer saw that the princess was opening the place of refuge, he decided to check it out. He already had a plan to get to know the members of the royal family…having a secret grudge against them. Before he did, he gathered two people to his side. One of them was a strong muscular fighter…and the best gambler in town.

 “Your skills in gambling and fighting are second to none,” the sorcerer said, soon gathering up lies. “I could use a strong hand like you. Those horrible soldiers killed my wife and children and I’m worried that I’ll be next.”

 “I’m not helping you,” the gambler scoffed as he drank more booze and drinks. “Why didn’t you use your magic?”

 “The soldiers weren’t affected by it and now…I’m left with nothing...”

 “But if you work for me, I’ll give you more drinks and money. Plus if you’re looking for a nicer place to stay, the princess has a refuge center not too far from here.”

 Reluctantly, the gambler shook the sorcerer’s hand and followed him.

 Later, the sorcerer spotted a maid who was cleaning chimneys and caring for a bunch of children.

 “You look like you’re pretty busy,” the sorcerer said. “Cleaning the same dirty place all the time sounds boring.”

 “It is,” the maid said. “And lonely. There are no handsome men around either.”

 The sorcerer then spoke in a smooth seductive tone. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Why, if you help me out, I’ll provide you with a clean house and introduce you to the most handsome of men in the kingdom. I’ll be your first friend if you wish.”

 The maid eagerly shook his hand, and the trio went off to the hotel. Once they arrived, the princess welcomed them in with open arms.

 “I’d love to help out with your place, your majesty,” the sorcerer said with an elegant bow. “Trying to make people better…that’s near impossible, but hey, it’s worth a shot.”

 The sorcerer charmed the princess with dances and magic tricks. With a snap of his fingers, the place was repaired and clean. She soon became attracted to him. The man even made a splendid dinner for everyone to enjoy.

 “He’s untrustworthy,” the warrior woman warned the princess. “I’m your best friend but please be careful.”

 “Don’t worry,” the princess said. “I can take care of myself.” She hoped that her plan would work…and hoped she could prove herself worthy to her parents.

 Then, on the next fateful day…”

 “Nerissa!” called Akemi from down the hall. “It’s time to go to sleep!”

 “She’s right,” Michelle said as she closed the book in a heart stopping snap.

 “Awww, Michelle! Mother! You can’t stop there! We were getting to the good part!”

 “Maybe another time,” said Michelle as she tucked Niffty into bed. “Good night, dear.” Michelle’s footsteps grew fainter as she left the room.

 Nifty stared at the starry sky and the full moon though her window. “Maybe my dreams will come true someday,” she sang softly to herself with a smile and a look of longing.

 “A dream is a wish, my heart makes

When I’m fast asleep.

In dreams, I will lose my heartaches

Whatever I wish for, I keep

 “Have faith in dreams and someday

My rainbow will come smiling through

No matter how my heart is grieving

If I keep on believing

The dream that I wish will come true.”

 Niffty yawned after she finished the song and settled into sleep.

                                        Yellow Peril: Chinese workers arrive to U.S. mid 19th century, restricted to railroads and mines. Anti-Chinese groups worked to pass laws to limit Asian American equality with whites. Like Irish, Italians, Chinese and Japanese were viewed as threats to “racial purity” and a source of economic competition.

1886-1924 peak: People immigrating from Japan to find work to survive. Many arrived on Hawaiian Islands, moving to the West Coast. Immigrants selecting brides from their immigrant countries via a matchmaker who paired them only using pictures and family recommendations. Some women choose to be picture brides to escape familial duties and seek economic growth. Some came to Hawaii because it was a trend. Picture brides immigrated to the U.S. to be with husbands. Men would often pose in pictures with cars and items they did not own.

Nakodo: go between/match maker who looks at status, age, wealth of bride

 Pucture brides had to go through immigration inspections. They would meet their soon to be husbands and attend a wedding ceremony on the docks.

Reality: older grooms living in racially segregated plantations

  Plantation workers, many Japanese women. Irrigated and weeded the fields, stripped cane of dry leaves, or cut seed cane. Women were also expected to take care of the house, cooking, cleaning, sewing and raising children. Many women moved to Honolulu to start their own businesses.

 Values instilled to children included filial piety, obligation to community and authority, reciprocal obligation, importance of hard work, frugality, drive for success (seiko).

 Some married husbands were abusive or alcoholic or tried to sell women into brothels but many wives stayed for their children. Wives who eloped could be sent back to Japan.

 No passports to picture brides in 1920.

   Naturalization Act of 1870: revoking citizenship to Chinese Americans

 Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882: stopped immigration from China

 Japanese workers recruited, triggering a rapid increase in population.

 Immigration Act of 1924: banned Japanese and Chinese from entering U.S.

  Japantowns (Nihonmachi) in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Seattle etc. community groups organized charity events and set up shops separate from whites, Japanese language schools.

  Pearl Harbor attack 1941: led the United States into World War 2. Americans, French, England, unified to fight against Germany, Japan and Italy.

Kamikaze suicide bombings, Pearl Harbor, Baatan Death March, American POWs killed by Imperial Japanese forces

 “Jap hunting licenses” Japanese forced to move away and close their businesses.

 Stereotype of Japanese and schools as loyal to the emperor of Japan, promoting racial superiority and violent fighting skills.

 1942: Japanese incarcerated in camps “War Relocation Camps” western U.S, 1942-1946 “one blood drop rule”

    Jan 1942: immigrants required to have certificates and IDs on them

 Unfavorable reports of Japanese action noticed by the U.S. government, (Pearl Harbor, Invasion of China 1931).

 Thin barracks with little room for privacy, barbed wire fences and guards.

(shikata ga nai) “It cannot be helped.” School lessons only taught in Englsih. Dust storms, cramped living conditions. There was baseball, bands and recreation.

Internment ends 1945/1946

Japanese businesses, homes and places of worship were destroyed with vandalism, gunshots and explosives. Some people were shot in the camps while others died from lack of medical care.

 Niffty lives her life as a Japanese American woman and teenager in the 1950s. She is little, with short black hair and pale skin. She is born in the 1920s…on March 22 (VA birthdate), 1929 (Year of the Snake)! Being the same age as Vaggie when she died at age 22, Niffty died in 1951. She is a human named Nerissa Nifuti (after the maid. Her last name is Niffty in Japanese).

 March 22 1929: Niffty’s birth in Los Angeles, California, as Nerissa Nifuti. (Capital city based on New Orleans, New York and Las Vegas populous cities of the former homelands of the other characters)

1930: age 1

 1931: age 2

 1932: age 3

 1933: age 4

 1934: age 5

 1935: age 6

 Niffty briefly lives with her parents in a rural area. Picture bride mother who arrived from Japan and to Hawaii and worked on a plantation, older alcoholic father who lived in Hawaii.

 1930s: Niffty learns to walk and talk and speak Japanese and English. She always removes her shoes whenever she enters her home and other buildings. She is fast in almost everything, crawling early, babbling early, very talkative and quick on her feet. Niffty is a fast learner as well, often ahead of her class. Niffty learns best by working with her hands. Niffty develops her love of reading and writing.

 At some point, Niffty’s father becomes abusive to both of them but Niffty’s mother has to stay to uphold her family honor.

 1936: age 7 Niffty starts school. Niffty is often chided for talking so fast and not being passive

  Niffty is bullied in Weill school for her heritage and short height. Niffty excels at literature, running, music, singing, arts and crafts, reading and writing, but not at math, sports, science or history.

  1937: age 8 With being a good housewife instilled in her at an early age, Niffty begins to clean and cook and sew early on, while also looking for the perfect husband in the future.

 1938: age 9

 1939: age 10 World War 2 begins

 Niffty reads mangas and starts writing her own stories while maintaining a clean house for her family. They also have a black poodle named Michelle.

 1940: age 11

 1941: age 12

 1942: age 13

 1942: Year of Death. Niffty and her parents are sent to an internment camp. Manzanar Relocation Center. Niffty’s father is shot for trying to escape and her mother dies of an illness at an infirmary. The walls are thin and barracks are overcrowded.

  1943: age 14

 1944: age 15 Niffty is often surrounded by the stench of death. She eats like an animal and longs to be free.

 1945: age 16

Niffty’s father is shot for trying to escape and her mother falls ill and dies in a makeshift infirmary. Niffty remains in the camp until 1945, finishing schooling and joining the band. Niffty has to live with several other families and children in cramped spaces. The lessons were only taught in English. Niffty falls in love with several boys. Niffty meets one nice one but he eventually leaves with his family, leaving Niffty behind.

 Niffty returns to her home town with nothing to return to. She finds Japanese businesses, homes and places of worship destroyed with vandalism, gunshots and explosives.

 By sheer luck, she is able to live and work for an upper class white family as a maid, cook and a person who sews their clothes. The mother is racist toward her but not the father nor the older sister, who tolerate her.

 1946: age 17 Niffty is visited by Alastor through a radio. He offers her mangas, appreciation for her work and a new “perfect” boyfriend/husband, plus a radio. She agrees to help him out later on, but she gets more than what she bargained for.

 1947: age 18 Niffty gets married to her boyfriend but still works for the family.

 1948: age 19 Niffty’s husband starts hitting on Niffty’s white adoptive sister. Niffty’s adoptive parents make her do even more work since she is so good at it. Niffty’s fanfictions are read by others and starts attracting horny older men.

 1949: age 20

 1950: age 21 Niffty’s husband beats and violates her, though Niffty still remains in love with him. She lets him violate her, feeling more and more broken and helpless. One part lasted three hours, leaving her feeling sticky and disgusting.

 Niffty asks the radio for advice and it influences her to do evil things. Jealous of her adoptive sister’s beauty and attention to her husband, Niffty kills her and cleans up the mess, serving her flesh in meat pies to neighbors.

 During one evening on the streets, a horrified Niffty glances at a man violating a corpse of a woman and stabs him to death. She darts away before she can be caught.  

 1951: age 22 The trauma Niffty faces catches up and she snaps. Niffty kills her husband as he tried to rape and stab her and sets his house on fire. At the same time, she cries over the loss of him. She writes about it in a journal, which is discovered by the mother. This draws attention to the police, the father had called them earlier.

 Niffty gets cornered by police inside her home. One of them is a relative of her husband. Niffty tries to run but gets shot three times in the thigh. Before anyone could do anything, the officer picks her up and tosses her into a burning fireplace, where she dies.

   1951: Niffty arrives in Hell, lost and overwhelmed. One demon, a black spider named Rhapso hires her to work at a clothing Emporium. Niffty is beaten and chided for every little mistake she makes, every loose thread, driving her toward perfection like in life. Niffty also has to clean her boss’s room and cook meals. Out of sheer spite, Niffty steals and wears an elegant dress made of black swan feathers, sizing it down to fit her small body. Her boss threatens to roast her in the furnace but as she is immune to fire says “Let’s say you’re in deep hot water, brat.”

 Niffty is thrown into the burning lake as punishment. Niffty plunges to the bottom of the lake, unable to breach the surface as sinners sink to the bottom instead of floating like in regular water. Though Niffty can survive in hot places, the heat and pressure becomes uncomfortable. There are also fiery underwater monsters to avoid. Niffty often has nightmares of her boyfriend sending her into an icy lake to drown, or watching her parents suffer at the internment camp. There is no way for her to interact with the world, make friends and no one to fall in love with. She dreaded having to be forcefully pulled from the surface by her boss and be forced to work more long shifts.

 Until one demon is alerted by her presence…

 After having signed the contract on Earth, Niffty’s presence is sensed by Alastor’s shadow. The shadow reaches in and picks up Niffty, the little demon gasping for breath. Then, she meets Alastor. Alastor reminds Niffty of the deal she had made in the living world and invites her to shake his hand to seal it. Niffty is eager to do so, already enamored by the Radio Demon’s charm.

 Niffty’s boss comes back and demands Niffty go back to work, but Alastor says he would take Niffty instead. Niffty sets her boss and store on fire for revenge, entertaining Alastor. Niffty calls herself Niffty.

 Niffty soon works for Alastor, making his meals, cleaning his cabin-like lair underground (Deer’s Den) (plus his above ground smaller radio studio cabin), sewing voodoo dolls and tailoring his suits. She also is handy in fighting as she is immune to fire, speedy, skillful with her hands and can fit into small places. In exchange, Alastor gives her a place to stay, money, some journals and clothing for her hobbies, plus voodoo creatures for her to eat and play with.

 Niffty is soon summoned from the fireplace and gets to work cleaning the hotel rooms and helping make meals for the hotel residents. Niffty writes erotic fanfiction and sews in her spare time. Along with Husk, Niffty protects Alastor and helps kill his enemies.

 Niffty starts an Instagram account under the name babyfeatherduster. She is seen posing at Alastor’s feet, hanging out with Husk and trying to take Alastor’s picture. People mistake her for a child, even though she is in her 20s.

 Niffty’s true intentions would eventually be revealed. Niffty seeks to be doted on by lots of men, and she lives in a fantasy world of her own. And she’ll use any means necessary to make the world of Hell her own. (she might manipulate men into sleeping with her). Niffty shares traits with Charlie from Always Sunny. Niffty loves erotic stuff and that includes fanfictions, pictures and maybe spying on nude men. She has pica, eating stuff like spiders and fabric. Although Niffty likes to get lost in fantasy and romance, she may be the most socially aware member of the group. She can also manipulate people and knows about Hell’s racist/class driven system. Her delusions of authority and emotions hide a sense of insecurity. Like Charlie from Always Sunny, Niffty is good at sewing, cooking, singing and music.

[lookslikechill]

Between His Fingers: Alistair Sheep

Character Intro//Between His Fingers ☇ Officer Alistair James Sheep

“Murder!” Alistair just barely didn’t yell. “Just talking about murder!”

➤ Name: Alistair James Sheep;  the Him in question, the spooked horse of men, our pov character, ba ba black sheep. ➤ Nicknames: Al. ➤ Gender/pronouns: Male (he/him). ➤ Age/birthdate: 28 years//February 9th 1919 ➤ Sexuality: Bisexual but unsure. ➤ Occupation: Police Officer with the Port Cassandra Police Department, partnered with Miles Crawford. ➤ Prior Occupations: Mechanic, Soldier in the Army during WW2 (reached the rank of Sergeant before being injured and sent home in ‘44). ➤ Residence: Port Cassandra, California. ➤ Home State: New York.

➤  habits include smoking like a chimney, drinking in social situations, being armed at all times, drinking more coffee than water, and being awake late at night/early in the morning. ➤ never fully dressed at home. ➤ his right knee was injured in the war, leaving his mobility permanently limited, meaning he is unable to pursue anybody effectively on foot.  As a result, he almost always drives, while Miles is the runner of the two.  He doesn’t (refuses to) use a cane now, but will almost certainly have to use one as he gets older. ➤ he is anxious and paranoid, always alert, tense, and frequently jumpy.  He stands straight and tense, drawn up, and can be observed scanning his surroundings often.   ➤ he is incredibly reserved and hard to befriend, full of sarcasm and equipped with great skepticism. ➤ he married a childhood friend and highschool sweetheart at the age of 18 and lived a content life with her up until he was drafted at 21.  Upon returning from service in ‘44, their marriage quickly began to fall apart as Alistair failed to fall back into civilian life.  They moved to Port Cassandra, California from New York as a last-ditch effort to save their marriage, which clearly didn’t work.  His divorce is sometimes the topic of teasing by his fellow officers.  ➤ raised Catholic but became distant from the religion throughout his wartime experience, and even more so after he “gave in” to his less than straight attractions. ➤ an outsider to the city and to some of his fellow officers, as well, since many of them grew up in Port Cassandra and not many of them are from away.  ➤ terrible case of resting asshole face. ➤ compassionate in his own way, despite being seemingly perpetually grumpy.   ➤ lives in a tiny, drab, old apartment. ➤ owns a forest-green Ford. 

  ➤ Strengths: detail-oriented, observant, great shot, effective driver, mechanically inclined. ➤ Weaknesses: reactive, jittery, paranoid, overly secretive/guarded, reclusive. ➤ Likes: the forest/ocean/beach, having a blanket up over his ears, coffee, whiskey, his cigarettes, gettin’ laid, Miles, sarcasm.  ➤ Dislikes: being watched, the cold, snow/rain, mud, loud noises, sleeping alone, being questioned, small talk, overly friendly people, socializing in general.

➤ Taglist:  @livingdeadwriteblr -  @cawolters - @agnesfagen -@requiemesque - @the-real-rg - @balletshoe-punk - @lie-hart - @phloxxiing - @teacupwriter - @newdivinities - @omgbrekkerkaz - @soul-write - @elisabethrosewrites (ask to be added or removed!)

Family & co-worker relationships under the cut!

➤ Partner: Miles Crawford; his partner-in-crimesolving for roughly two years, and his male lover of nearly a year.  Their relationship is by far the most positive, healthy relationship in Alistair’s life.

➤ Family:

Emily Castaldi; ex-wife, childhood friend, and highschool sweetheart.  They met when they were just kids, and practically grew up together, sharing a neighborhood and more than one school.  Emily’s homelife was rocky, and so was Alistair, so they were quick to marry after highschool.

Arlo Sheep; his late father, who was killed by pneumonia when he was 12.  Arlo was emotionally distant, overly strict, and the source of much of Alistair’s insecurity regarding not only his lack of hetrosexuality, but his masculinity as well.  Regardless, his death opened the door for the home environment that developed later, which Alistair would be eager to escape.

Hellen Sheep; Alistair’s mother, a sweet but timid woman, who Alistair sometimes misses and resents at the same time.

Thomas Sheep; or Tom, Alistair’s younger brother, younger by little more than a year and a half.  He was always a difficult child, but once Arlo was no longer in the picture he was ultimately a terror, bullying his mother, Alistair, and their younger sister, Nancy.  Harsh, controlling, judgmental, and always roaring about something, he was what would ultimately cause Alistair to draw away from the family unit.

Nancy Sheep; his younger sister, who he was close to before he married and moved out at 18.  Last he knew, Nancy was angry at him for abandoning her. 

➤ Port Cassandra Police Department

Captain Arthur Pimento; the Captain.  Alistair recognizes his authority and obeys him, but he finds him frustrating and tedious.

Joseph Sawtelle; PCPD’s second-in-command.  Alistair doesn’t feel any particular way about him.

Gentry Sinclair; PCPD Officer.  Alistair actively dislikes Sinclair, simply because he is too friendly, and always trying to know things about him.  

Tobias Rigby; PCPD Officer. Alistair likes him because he stays shut up most of the time, and usually has something useful to say when he does speak up.

Daniel Morrin; PCPD Officer.  Alistair dislikes Morrin.  He takes up too much space and seems to like getting in the way.  He’s also impatient, and loud.  

Conrad Fitzgerald; PCPD Officer.  Alistair doesn’t know how to feel about Fitzgerald, he’s a bit odd.  Reckless, in ways. 

[aion-rsa]

Dialect Coaches on Actors and the Best and Worst Accents

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Congruity is important in fiction. Trust and verisimilitude are the first casualties when breaches of the unspoken contract between creator and audience occur. Each of us has our own limits on what we’re prepared to accept before that crucial tipping point is reached and our minds unmoor from a piece of fiction. Although we understand that show-runners and directors will sometimes bend reality or sacrifice elements of the truth or historical record in the pursuit of spectacle or entertainment, some things are sacrosanct.

Arguably our ears are the fiercest arbiters of truth. These days, botched accents or dialects in entertainment vehicles are the elements most likely to trigger flash-bangs of furious incredulity, and offend cultural sensibilities (especially now that we’re past the era of casting people in serious dramatic roles out-with their own ethnicities). Though the 1995 movie Braveheart was rife with historical inaccuracies – akin to Abraham Lincoln teaming up with Grover Cleveland to fight WWII alongside Arnold Schwarzenegger – it retained a plausible and satisfying emotional core in the hearts of most Scots largely thanks to Mel Gibson putting on an eminently passable, forgivably imperfect Scottish accent. That wouldn’t have been the case had he sounded like Christopher Lambert or Pee Wee Herman.  

So accents are important. They strike at the truth of who we are, where we’re from and where we’re going. It follows then that the gate-keepers of the human voice – the vocal coaches and dialect specialists that lend their expertise to the entertainment industry – perform a vital function that transcends mere entertainment. Den of Geek spoke to three of them, to get a flavor of the work they do, the professional choices they make, the role they see themselves playing, their views on the industry, and their take on the issues of the day filtered through the prism of their profession. 

Nic Redman is a well-known and knowledgeable vocal coach and voice actor who hails from Northern Ireland, but now lives and works in the north of England; her coaching helps regular folks, commercial clients and famous faces alike. 

Paul Meier is a voice coach, actor, professor, Shakespeare enthusiast, theatre director and archivist of dialects who made the leap from the southern UK to the mid-western US in 1978, bringing with him a wealth of expertise. 

Joy Lanceta Coronel is a Kentucky-born, NY-based dialectal wunderkind, who, as well as being an eminently qualified voice and acting coach, conducts research into Asian identity and cultural representation, particularly those aspects that intersect with her profession.    

Of course you can’t have three voice coaches on hand without first asking them their opinion on the worst and best examples of accents in TV and film. 

Music to your ears

Let’s start with the best.

Nic singles out Jodie Comer in Killing Eve. “I’d seen her in one other thing, and she spoke in Received Pronunciation (RP) – like a standard, southern English sound – and I just assumed she spoke RP. And then I saw Killing Eve, and I was like, ‘Wow, she’s good at accents’. And then I heard her in an interview, and I’m like, ‘You are kidding me’. Because she’s a proper Scouser, like [from Liverpool, England]. And unabashedly, unashamed, wearing it proudly, as everyone with a regional accent should.”

Paul’s pick is Meryl Streep in The Iron Lady. “I’ve never seen a better impersonation. She transcended impersonation and totally got the accent, but it was a brilliant impersonation as well. I did a podcast with the dialect coach on The Iron Lady, Jill McCullough, and Jill just sat in the corner twiddling her thumbs while Meryl Streep worked her magic.” 

Joy is also quick to laud Meryl Streep, particularly her performance in Sophie’s Choice. She also gives special mentions to Renee Zellweger in the first Bridget Jones’s Diary, and Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood. When it comes to picking the worst examples of the craft, Joy favours diplomacy over dirt-slinging. “Ah this question is so nuanced because I’d hate to call people out on something that might have been the result of so many different variables. There are several instances when a coach might not have as much time with the actor for them to fully inhabit the accent. You also have to factor in that an actor might not be very familiar with an accent, and oftentimes it makes it more difficult for them to take on the sounds if it is difficult for them to hear them in the first place.”

Luckily for us and our salacious appetites, Nic and Paul have no such reservations. “I really want to give shout outs to Gerard Butler in P.S. I Love You,” says Nic. “As an Irish person I found that pretty horrific. Keanu Reeves in Dracula, Don Cheadle in Ocean’s Eleven. And, then, just a couple of shout-outs for some ladies. Anne Hathaway in One Day. I know she tried really hard. I married a Yorkshireman so I think I’m a bit more sensitive to that one. And Mischa Barton in St Trinians.”

Paul goes with something of an old classic from the accent hall of horrors: Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. He follows up his choice with a salient point: “I did a podcast with my son, who is a movie critic, talking about best and worst. I found myself saying that Dick Van Dyke was so utterly charming in the role of Bert the chimney sweep, that despite his egregious cockney accent, you would say, ‘But this is how Bert speaks. This is Dick Van Dyke’s Bert’s cockney’, and it’s almost become institutional now, even though it’s a really bad cockney.” 

You could say the same of Karl Urban’s accent in The Boys. Butcher is supposed to be from London, but his accent is a hotchpotch that takes in the antipodes via South Africa. Again, though, the character, and Urban’s portrayal, is such a powerhouse that you stop caring. Perhaps we make allowances for bad accents by great actors just so long as the place they’re evoking isn’t an integral part of their character’s make-up; or that the character isn’t intended as a vessel to speak for, or about, people from that place. 

Do the coaches agree that many actors from the US seem to struggle with UK accents in general, and London accents in particular? 

“The thing about Americans encountering British accents,” says Nic, “is they have two representations of what we sound like: Downton Abbey and anything by Guy Ritchie. English or Cockney. You’d think that would help them be specific, but I think they really struggle with it because it shares a lot with Australian as well, for very specific historical reasons, and I think they flip stuff around and get a bit confused.”

Paul believes that US actors struggle with some UK accents mainly for social reasons. “Brits and Australians are better at American accents than vice versa. And it’s not because of any innate ability. It’s just because Americans tend to be more insular. American English is the global language, very few Americans have passports, they don’t travel. It’s a big country, very self-sufficient. And so for these social, socio-linguistic reasons, Americans don’t tend to be as good at accents.” 

Sometimes, says Nic, we the audience will not have been privy to the decisions made on the modelling of a character’s accent – their background, their idiolect – and thus can judge a performance unfairly. “That’s how I felt about Elizabeth Moss in Top of the Lake. She got a lot of flak for her accent, but I loved the performance so much, and she was a person from a place living in a different place, so there were going to be influences from that side, so maybe she made a conscious decision to do it that way.”

A Day in the Life

How, then, does a voice coach operate? How do they assist performers? And what’s in their toolkit? Joy clues us in:

“Sometimes I get pulled in at the last minute and I have to work with an actor who has already spent time with the script without my guidance, so those instances can be challenging,” she says. “What I do enjoy is that I get one-on-one time with the actors, so it is an intimate process. I shape my sessions based on different variables: how much time I have with them; how familiar they are with the accent or dialect, how difficult the accent or dialect is, what kind of space we are working in. It’s usually a conversation that triangulates between director, actor, and coach. If possible, I try to find an audio sample of a person who meets the criteria we discussed, and we work from those audio samples. Using a real speaker as a model is the best way to humanize the work.”

What about those rare cases where a play, movie or TV show is set in a non-English-speaking country, yet casts English-speaking actors as natives, and has them speak in English? The examples that spring to mind are the TV mini-series Chernobyl and the movie The Death of Stalin. Do voice coaches have any opinion of, or involvement with, those scenarios? Paul takes the mantle:

“If you start with the idea of a Chekhov play; all of those characters are speaking Russian to each other, and we, simply for our own convenience, are speaking a translation into English, so does it make any sense to play your Chekhov characters with a Russian accent? Not really. Because they’re not speaking a language other than their own, their first language, so why would they get it wrong? If you have a play or a film where the Russian character is speaking English, then it wouldn’t make sense not to give him a Russian accent. And then I think of exceptions, like [the movie] Chocolat. All of those characters were speaking French to each other. We, simply for our own convenience, hear them in English. And yet the director and the dialect coach very astutely gave a very slight French accent colouration to the film. And I thought it helped. It put me in that little French village.” 

Authenticity and avoiding stereotypes

Authenticity clearly plays an integral role in both the coaching process and ethos. This article has so far concentrated on those dialects that predominate within the English-speaking world, but what of the importance of ensuring the authenticity of accents from other parts of the world; countries and continents whose languages and cultures may well have become an integral, though still too often marginalised, part of the shared experience of living in the US or Europe?    

“I can speak from the work I’ve done in the past with accents such as Thai, Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese and Korean,” says New York-based Joy. “These East Asian accents have a long history of stereotyping, mimicry, and caricature and it has hurt these communities. So, for that reason, it is all the more important to add as much authenticity and humanity to the accent and frame the accent through the lens of a real human being, and not just the stereotypes that were so often seen in TV, film, and stage. Studies show that most Americans don’t know a lot about Asian culture, much less the nuanced sounds of each language. It’s just not something Americans have paid attention to because of racist portrayals and phrases like ‘Ching chong chang.’ I feel a great deal of responsibility for showcasing these languages authentically, and it is my hope that audiences will begin to recognize these sounds and hear the drastic differences among East Asian languages, so that we can slowly veer away from our problematic past.”

The issue of representation within the entertainment industry, which dovetails with notions of authenticity, gained prominence during last year’s Black Lives Matters protests, and put a lot of hitherto accepted (sometimes only grudgingly) conventions under the spotlight. Animated shows like Big Mouth, Family Guy and The Simpsons were forced to reckon with the new paradigm by recasting, or un-casting, white actors who had been portraying POC. What do the coaches think about representation in this context, and where would they weigh in on versatility versus verisimilitude?   

Paul, whose life and work have straddled seven decades, responds with intellectual honesty and a sprinkling of Devil’s Advocate: “I have two takes on that really. One is that it’s a shame if you take any work away from an actor. Actors, that’s what they do: they impersonate everybody, without politics, without judgement, and it seems a shame in the world of infinite imagination to deprive anybody of the ability to impersonate or play any role. To me, it depends upon the spirit in which the thing is done. Take the role of Godbole in A Passage to India, played by Sir Alec Guinness. If we made the film today, of course we would cast Indian actors, but was Alec Guinness derogating or mocking India when he played that? No, he did a sterling job, with total respect for the culture. And then, you look on the other side of it. There’s an employment theme: why would you want to – with so many great African American actors – why on earth would you want to cast a white person to do that – unless there is some sort of exceptional necessity in that casting?”

Nic is slightly more unequivocal. “Yes, every actor can potentially play whatever they want and whoever they want, but it’s not about whether they can at the moment, it’s about whether they should. And we all have a responsibility in many ways in life right now to open up the doors to some of the more under-represented ethnicities and cultures. I feel that the only way I can responsibly be a coach in the current climate is to – if anything comes along that I feel could be coached by somebody of a more appropriate ethnic background, then I’ll pass that along. And that’s a no-brainer.”

Nic still has to grapple with and practice even those accents she couldn’t in all good conscience tutor someone to speak. “It’s important for me to understand how those accents work because I may get someone of that ethnic background coming to me wanting a different accent. Everybody starts at an accent from a different place, because everyone’s accent articulation patterns are different. So, for me, I may say the ‘ow’ sound as in the word mouth. I know I have to drop my tongue, because the northern Irish accent has more of a high tongue position. If I was teaching that ‘ow’ vowel to someone who wasn’t northern Irish, I’d have to understand where their tongue position may be. I can’t say to everybody, ‘Oh, for this sound you need to lower your tongue,’ because they might not need to lower their tongue. They might need to raise, flatten or loosen their tongue. So it’s not one-size fits all. It’s part of my job to look into these histories and cultures, and understand how these sounds work and feel.”     

Joy picks up the question of representation as it relates to The Simpsons and other animated shows, and examines it all through a wide cultural lens. “I appreciate the movement to re-cast these roles. There is no justification for characters like Apu and Doctor Hibbert being voiced by white actors, and it’s something I’ve opposed for a long time. It simply perpetuates stereotypes and caricatures. And there’s no justification because there are a multitude of actors who could have voiced these characters, and who could have embodied the racial, linguistic, and ethnic background of these characters. BIPOC actors already have limited opportunities as a result of limited stories on BIPOC, so why deprive them of the opportunity? In addition to perpetuating colonialism mentality, white characters voicing Indian, American and Black characters completely ignores the history of Blackface, Brownface, and minstrel performances, all of which were racist practices meant to mimic and inaccurately portray these communities through humor.”

In closing: with whom were the trio most proud of working; who was the actor or person who shone the brightest under or alongside them? Paul plumps for Tobey Maguire, Joy for BD Wong, actors they lavish with praise. Nic takes a different approach, declining to name anyone specific. “I’m most proud of the clients who come and commit to the work – and they come back as much as they need, as they can afford, as they want, and they make genuine improvement, and it has a genuine impact on their life and their career. That’s the amazing kind of thing about this job. With the right attitude, and enough time and money I think anybody can learn an accent… but that’s a Holy Trinity that doesn’t always come together.” 

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Please tell us your picks for the best and worst accents in film and TV in the comments below. Also, there are links to our interviewees should you wish to enlist their services, or are curious about their work. 

Paul Meier – Dialect Services www.paulmeier.com

Nic Redman – Voice Coach and Accent Specialist Nicredmanvoice.com

Joy Lanceta Coronel – Speech, Dialect and Communication Coach joylanceta.com

The post Dialect Coaches on Actors and the Best and Worst Accents appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2OoSTE1

[timetogoslumming]

okay. we got to talking about headcanons tonight, and i got to rambling. so here are some of my newsies hcs.

spot

okay so spot is a vegetarian. know that. you'll pry veggie spot from my cold, dead hands. gay. just straight up gay. but it took him a long time to recognize that. he was raised by a single dad, and his mom is in prison, and he has a much older sister that he's not close to. (i actually have a really detailed backstory for him that im saving for a rainy day.) speaking of rainy days, he loves them. spot is very into that "treat your body like a temple thing". he does yoga. lifeguard. plays a lot of app games? like angry birds, temple run, etc. loves to read. depending on the au, he's either a law student or works in construction with jack. he's got some ptsd from Some Stuff That Happened Once. drives a big ass jeep with loud music, usually either rock or rap, blaring from the speakers. actually a really good rapper, but pretty much no one sees that. likes to read.

sarah

sarah is like 90% gay. she'll occasionally make out with a guy for fun, like with jack, but let's be real. when she decides to settle down, it's going to be with a lady. she and davey are twins. she's a botanist with a big interest in environmental conservation (science twins.) very sarcastic. she's the less compassionate twin.

specs

specs is nearly legally blind, but not quite there. he's a ridiculously slow driver. dad friend. bi. dancer at nyu. also plays baseball and the cello, and he's very athletic- he runs every day. specs is incredibly detail-oriented and responsible. also, he and jack are the oldest, and he's kind of jack's secret right hand man. a lot of people think it's race or crutchie before davey shows up, but no. it's actually specs, he just works in the wings. loves crime shows. he and romeo are really into the paranormal- like ghosts and stuff.

romeo

in my head, romeo is colombian, so i dont see him as any of the actors that played him. he's gay, but also ace, but flirts a lot just because he thinks it's fun. he and specs have been best friends forever (im not getting too into detail about that but keep reading my christmas au). romeo loves candy, and constantly has like, a bag of twizzlers or pixie sticks in his bag or something. he's really good at crafts, especially making friendship bracelets. like specs, loves the paranormal.

kath

kath has chronic migraines. she ids as queer. she wants to be a reporter, but has a very successful blog, as well. (like a long-form blog, not like tumblr) with a few thousand followers. very politically inclined, and she and elmer talk about politics a lot. she and jack dated for a while, and they had a legitimately good time, but things sometimes just dont work out, and thats what happened with them. kath also really loves youtubers and spends more time than she wants to admit watching makeup tutorials. her dad is pulitzer, but he and her mom never married, so her actual last name is plumber (her mom's maiden name) and she was raised by her and her stepdad, who she adores.

mush

okay so he's diabetic. (btw the mush fc i always have in my head is ephraim.) he's SUPER good with kids. like, they think he's an absolute superhero. he's really, really patient and tells really good stories. he's a big ol stoner. he and blink are best friends (sorry, i dont ship it!!) and he's quite a potty mouth. mush and blink are actually REALLY fratty. also, he plays guitar

albert

albo is colorblind. it gives him a variety of vision problems. albo is obsessed with cryptids: his favorite is bigfoot, and he's also very into aliens. favorite movies: space jam and the fast and the furious. albo is also dyslexic and adhd- he and jack bond over it. as a result, school really isnt his thing, and he just sort of wants to be a mechanic, because cars make sense to him and he loves them. then there's his whole backstory- two older brothers, one of whom is a marine, and then a half sister. his dad cheated on his mom and got the girlfriend pregnant, but he loves his sister a whole lot. albert likes to make a lot of jokes about his colorblindness. he is also pan or queer bc what is projecting, anyway? ummmmm................ he gets really frustrated by how he's treated because of his learning disabilities. he loves dogs and cities and loud noises. also, that boy is a mama’s boy

jack

jack has severe dyslexia, to the point where reading is EXTREMELY difficult and frustrating for him, so he just doesnt do it. he's also got adhd. he's an artist, but for his day job, he's a house painter. or sometimes just generally in construction, idk. i generally make him a painter. he does a lot of odd jobs. jack loves cartoons. his favorite show is bob's burgers. he also loves american ninja warrior. likes to think he's fearless but he's actually pretty scared of thunder. jack unironically loves nickelback

race

race is a future rocket scientist, obviously. his dream is to get people on mars. he's got severe adhd. he's constantly fidgeting, and his favorite fidget toys are tennis balls or rubiks cubes. ps he can solves a rubiks cube in under half a minute. loves the kardashians- especially khloe. used to do a lot of shoplifting, but grew out of it. scared of horses. not a huge fan of animals in general, actually. queer or pan. totally tells everyone that his favorite color is green, but it’s be real. it’s gold glitter. used to smoke like a chimney but quit, although it was a struggle. 

davey

gay. hecka gay. he realized that he was gay when he played soccer and realized that he didnt want to be the soccer player, he just WANTED the soccer player. loves animals but snakes especially. also really likes alligators? anxiety, but like, the kind of anxiety where if you try to talk to him, he'll get pissed. let him be alone. started as a business major for practicality but switched to zoology. RIDICULOUSLY sarcastic. very flirty. has had multiple relationships before jack. scared of heights. doesnt love horses, but he'll deal with them. loves lord of the rings more than almost anything. hates getting his hair wet. VERY good at mario kart. he used to speedrun it and at one point, he was 14th in the world. 

crutchie

okay so: crutchie's disability can be a few things, depending on  the universe im using, but i generally do it as either a degenerative disorder or a major injury that was never treated properly so it never healed. hates mornings. so much. terrible loser. will literally fight you if he loses. sarcastic. can be kind of an asshole. wants to be a runner. : ((( crutchie is THE best wingman. like, you’re trying to impress someone? call up the big leagues aka crutchie

elmer

sarcastic motherfucker. news junkie. super skeptical. questions everything. trouble with his eyesight. he's the kind of guy who replays arguments in his head thinking up comebacks he should have used. he'll text you at 3 am like "AND ANOTHER THING"

[bellabooks]

“Pretty Little Liars” recap S7 Ep20: Til death do us part

Pretty Little Readers, this is it. The last PLL recap I will ever write…until the inevitable reboot in 2032 that follows the adventures of teenage twins Lily and Grace DiLaurentis-Fields. But I’m getting ahead of myself. This was a two-hour finale with buckets of exposition, so let’s dive on in! I’m glad this show finally upped their budget and gave Jenna a pony   We open on a deserted Rosewood street, where the Liars are all drinking coffee and bemoaning the drama-less state of their lives. It’s swelteringly hot, but all anyone can talk about is how boring everything is without any mysteries to solve. Oh, and Lucas tap dances by in a white tuxedo. And Jenna rides by in a decorated horse like she’s a circus performer. And then it starts snowing.  Is that snow? NO IT’S COCAINE!!!   The Liars look to the heavens, and the camera zooms out to reveal they were inside a snow globe, which was no joke my fantasy ending for this show. But who is holding the snow globe? Mona Vanderwaal, queen of the heavens, runner of the games, genius among geniuses. She’s locked up in Welby with only her snow globe, which she drops to the floor when she’s confronted by a black hoodie. She asks them if they are there to kill her, and she smiles that Mona smile. Then the opening credits run for the last time, and all the Liars do the “sshhhh” together. TOGETHER!  For real though guys, who is in this coffin?   We then cut to ONE YEAR LATER, and check in on the gang. Ezria is on the Warner Bros. lot (which is incidentally where they shoot the show- so meta!) because their book is being turned into a movie. They are also getting married in a week. Spencer is rescuing horses with Melissa and bonding with her, and Toby returns to town after a long Eat, Pray, Shave tour of the world. Spencer is rehabbing a cute pony named Bashful, who is skittish around everyone but her. Don’t worry, this will come back later in a big bad way. Emily and Ali are juggling twins, Lily and Grace. Also, Ali has the worst bangs and it’s so distracting I had to rewind this scene twice just to focus. Ali meets up with Pam Fields at the Radley, and they have a secret conversation about taking care of/loving Emily. Ali continues teaching English at Rosewood High, where she discusses literary endings (wink wink) with her class. She’s still teaching mini-bitch Addison, who disrupts the class and calls Ali a lesbo. Ali is in no mood, and grabs Addison after class. Addison isn’t scared of her, but she IS scared of Jenna Marshall, who is now a life skills teacher at Rosewood. What life skills is Jenna imparting to these children?! How to seduce men and women alike into doing your bidding? Firecracker dodging? I have so many questions, the first of which is, where do I sign up? Addison tries to sass Jenna by waving her hands in front of her blind face, but Jenna grabs her by the wrist like she’s Dare Devil and tells her that she while she can’t see, she can smell a bitch from a mile away. In a world where teachers can sleep with and marry their students without censure, I guess calling someone a bitch is small potatoes.  BITCH CAN SMELL   Meanwhile, things aren’t sunshine and lollipops with Hanna and Caleb. Mona is being discharged from Welby, and Hanna invited her to stay at the loft without running it by her husband. Caleb is upset that the woman who tried to push his wife out of a bell tower is now their new roommate, but Hanna knows that while husbands come and go, ride or die BFFs are forever. On cue, Mona shows up at their door and Hanna welcomes her. Mona seems fragile and forgetful, and tells them that with her new meds, she isn’t as sharp as she used to be. If this series ends with a neutered and sad Mona I will never forgive Marlene. Why is the wifi password Hanily?!   The Liars and friends meet up at the newly renovated Lost Woods resort, which Spencer and Ali are re-launching. Everyone’s gathered for a surprise bachelor/bachelorette dinner for Aria and Ezra. There is wine and laughter and memories, and everyone is having a good time…except for Haleb, who can’t stop squabbling. Spying on them from the bushes is a black hoodie, who turns around to reveal MELISSA HASTINGS…or is it? Everyone is enjoying drinks by the fire pit, when Emily remembers that this is their first night without the babies and drags Ali to their room for some sexing. Then everyone else pairs off to hook up, except for Toby and Spencer who decide to play scrabble like a couple of nerds. We find out that Spencer is going to law school, working at her mom’s firm, and rebuilding her relationship with her family. Isn’t it nuts that we’re 25 and have two kids?!  Tell it to my bangs: they’re already 45.   While everyone else gets a lengthy sex scene, complete with saxophone music, Emily and Ali press their cheeks together and touch legs because that is how lesbians have sex on Freeform. At least, they are trying to…Ali is feeling all sentimental while Emily is trying to get it on. I feel like this would be a totally adequate sex scene by itself, but pairing it with Ezria’s lengthy romp only highlights the double standard when it comes to queer sex scenes.  Nothing says sex scene like closed mouth kissing!   Despite this disparate treatment, let’s all take a step back and marvel that this series is ending with a happy queer couple, where no one is dead or heartbroken. It’s 2017, but there is still something delightfully revolutionary about the awkward gay jock winning the heart of the most popular girl in school and living happily ever after. It’s kind of lovely until you remember what they did with Maya and Shana and Charlotte. In a less romantic sex scene across town, Hanna and Caleb are still fighting while Hanna sits with her legs up, trying to conceive. Yup, these two dummies are trying to have a baby. And in sadder fertility news, Aria gets a phone call from her doctor and finds out that she can’t have children. Why is everyone so baby crazy on this show?! Y’all are 25, settle down. Aria wants to call off the wedding, but the Liars convince her that Ezra won’t care. She tries to keep it a secret, but ends up telling him the next day, and he responds as he should: that it doesn’t matter, and there’s more than one way to make a family. Melissa watches the Liars comforting Aria from the bushes, and removes her mask to reveal MONA underneath. Dun Dun Dun! I would love it if A.D. turns out to be a Russian nesting doll of masks leading to an empty hoodie. Mona Facetimes with A.D. and demands to know who they are. You know what would really take this party up a notch? Jenna Marshall on a damn horse!   The next night is Aria’s rehearsal dinner, and Hanna brings along Mona, which is rude as hell. You don’t just bring your crazy hyperadrenalized murderer BFF without RSVPing for her first! No one is more shocked than Ashley Marin, who separates from the Wine Moms to give Hanna a talking to about co-dependency and toxic friendships. The Wine Moms keep talking about that time they got locked in a basement, yet another spin-off show that we’ll never get from Marlene.  A toast to the best parent on this show: Chardonnay!   Emily sees Alison sneaking around with Pam and assumes that Ali is hiding something from her. She gives Ali the third degree until she reveals that Pam gave her the family engagement ring—she was planning to propose to Emily somewhere romantic, but instead she’s doing it right this second in her pug dog sweater. Ali thanks Emily for loving her unconditionally, even when she was a zombie bitch who communicated through stolen birds and old witches. Even when she was flying a plane in a Vivian Darkbloom wig. Emily says yes, and they kiss.  If you can love me through these bangs, you can love me no matter what   Meanwhile, Spencer goes back to Toby and they have a lengthy sex scene of their very own. Spencer steps out of the shower and finds Mona in a black hoodie in her room. Mona says “Déjà vu bitch!” and knocks her unconscious. Spencer wakes up in a prison cell, disoriented. She looks in the mirror and checks herself out, until the mirror Spencer starts moving on her own. Holy crap, Twincer is real! And British! Kudos to everyone who predicted this twist, I honestly thought it was going to be someone else. This British twin is Alex Drake, aka A.D. and she’s busted Mary Drake out of jail for a family reunion. Put some pants on, we need to talk about Spencer’s accent: it’s not just British. It’s Eliza Doolittle meets Burt the Chimney Sweep meets Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd. It’s SO over the top and terrible and delightful. Just like this British evil twin conceit: soapy and ridiculous and I am so on board with this nonsense. ‘Ello Guvnah! I’m your twin I is!   In a series of flashbacks, we get the sordid tale of Alex Drake: When Mary was in labor at Radley (in the 1940’s) she gave birth to Spencer, who was quickly whisked away by the Hastings family. So quickly in fact, that no one stuck around for Spencer’s twin sister Alex to be born. To buy her way out of Radley, Mary sells Alex to a fancy British family who raise her across the pond…until they realize that she is the baddest of bad seeds and dump her at an orphanage for evil geniuses. Flash forward, and teenage Alex is pulling pints in a bar where she runs into Wren. Wren can’t believe he’s found a British Spencer, and tells Alex of her true parentage. They fall in love (eww) and Wren arranges a meeting for Alex and Charlotte. Once the half sisters meet, they become thick as thieves, each finding the family they were searching so long for. Charlotte falls in love with Archer, and they proceed to double date their way around Europe. It’s like The Parent Trap, but with more wigs, murder, and asylum stays.  This is my Sarah Manning cosplay…fancy a shag?   But Charlotte can’t handle being away from the game, so she goes back to Rosewood to play with her dolls, where Mona murders her in the bell tower. Consumed by revenge, Alex sets out for Rosewood and picks up the game where Charlotte left off. In her quest to find out who murdered Charlotte, she gets a glimpse into the charmed life of Spencer Hastings, and wonders what could have been if she had that life. You know, that idyllic suburban experience where your father bangs every mom in town, you’re related to all your friends, and you spend your entire adolescence being terrorized by a maniac in athleisure wear. Ah, the stuff that dreams are made of! Alex starts cosplaying as Spencer and pops up in a series of flashbacks: Alex was the one who held Hanna when she was locked in that barn. Alex asked Toby for the goodbye kiss. Alex also banged Toby and fell for him. Soon enough, she decides she wants to be Spencer full-time, so she’s locked Spencer in her new dollhouse and takes over her life. She’s so into mirroring Spencer that she makes Wren shoot her in the shoulder so she has the same scar. She also uses Wren’s sperm to father Emily and Ali’s babies, before killing him and turning him into a diamond necklace. Which she wears around her neck. EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. I mean, it’s no bracelet made of teeth, but it’s still pretty bonkers.   Does this seem like a lot of exposition? Because it’s an insane amount of exposition. Alex isn’t revealed until at least halfway through this 2-hour finale, and she hits the ground running, checking off every unsolved mystery this show ever made up. Bitch can summarize! Alex heads off to Aria’s wedding, where no one notices anything different about her. Aria comes out in her bridal gown, and it is some wacky vintage nonsense that only Aria could cook up. Frankly, I’m surprised it was missing her signature leopard print pattern. It’s the last ever Emily Fields cleavage appreciation post!   Meanwhile, Mary tries to comfort Spencer by making her Peruvian chicken and assuring her that living life in a jail can be fun. Spencer begs Mary to release her, and Mary gives her a hug. Instead of bum rushing her birth mom out the door, Spencer cries in her arms. Once Mary locks the door, we see that Spencer has taken a bobby pin out of her hair. Someone is about to Nancy Drew her way out of this underground prison! Back at Wedding Central, Ezra still hasn’t shown up. Aria is crying Byron is threatening to beat up Ezra, and everyone is confused. Did Ezra have a crisis of conscience and decide not to marry the girl he seduced at 15? Of course not! Alex abducted him and threw him in a jail cell next to Spencer. Does Ezra help Spencer escape? Nope, he just mansplains lock picking to her with a pissy attitude. Back at Radley, the Liars are all sharing a room and consoling Aria. Alex climbs into bed and strokes Aria’s hair, telling her that they’ll be the closest of all. How did she find out about Team Sparia all the way in England?!  Team Sparia for Life   The next day, Alex meets Toby at the stables, where the horse starts freaking out because he knows she’s not Spencer. That, or she’s a vampire. Toby starts putting the pieces together. Later, Jenna meets with Alex and can tell just by smelling her that she’s not Spencer. Finally, Toby takes the book of French love poems Alex gave him, and realizes that it can’t be Spencer’s book because there aren’t any notes in the margins. Toby brings this information to the Liars, and everyone is like, “evil twin? Yup, sounds about right” and they go off in search of the real Spencer.  YOU’RE NOT MY MOM!   Back at the bunker, Spencer picks the lock and frees herself and Ezra. They try to escape from the bunker and run outside of the house…only to realize that they aren’t outside at all. The ceiling is painted to look like the sky, and there is fake grass and everything, but it’s just a dollhouse within a dollhouse. Mona confronts the Liars and tells them that Wren tried to kill her in Welby, but she convinced him she could help bust Mary out of prison. Mona has also tracked Spencer’s coordinates to Toby’s house, because she is in this damn game to win it.  Here I am, explaining this game to you dum-dums one last time!   The Liars bust their way into the bunker, where they stumble onto the classic twin face-off: Spencer and Alex wrestling, and trying to convince the Liars that they’re each the real Spencer Hastings. Oh, and Ezra hits his head on a rock. Toby grabs one of the twins and demands to know what their favorite poem is from the book, and the real Spencer (in classic Spencer fashion) starts reciting it in perfect French. The cops rush in and arrest Alex and Mary, and Spencer is reunited with her friends.  I’m the right real Spencer, you barmy old chaps!   The Ezria wedding gets a do-over, and everything goes smoothly, even Marlene King’s cameo as a photographer who didn’t turn off her cell phone. The Liars walk around the only square in Rosewood, and talk about how much they’ll miss Aria while she’s on her honeymoon. Spencer is back together with Toby, and Hanna reveals that she’s pregnant. They all hug and it’s very sweet.  So long Rosewood…you’re the 6th bitch at this table!   But what of Miss Vanderwaal? We find Mona living in Paris, selling antique dolls and making out with a beefy French dude. She steps into her backroom, where she has dollhouse decorated with two brunette dolls. The camera pulls back and we see Mary and Alex Drake imprisoned in a dollhouse of their very own. Looks like Mona won the game after all.  Praise be to VanderJesus, for ever and ever, amen.   Then the final scene is a rehash of the pilot opening, with Addison’s mean girls at a sleepover (with Maya’s cousin) waking up to find their queen bee missing. Nice try show, but I’m not spending another seven years with this hot nonsense. And that’s it: seven seasons of masks, wigs, doll parts, Grunwalds, and interchangeable white guys. Seven seasons of Shay Mitchell’s shiny pony-like hair and two facial expressions. Seven seasons of that same damn yellow top that Ali wore on the night she died a thousand times. I started this show the way most of us did, by reading Heather Hogan’s recaps and laughing along with the #BooRadleyVanCullen crew. I didn’t know then that I would go on to write recaps for Autostraddle and AfterEllen, nor did I know that AfterEllen would meet a cruel and untimely end. I didn’t know that I would meet my very own Twincer, Dana Piccoli, who would bring me here to the Bella Books blog to complete this ridiculous journey. To everyone who edited my work, gave me encouragement, and provided me with screengrabs (shout out to @PLLBigA) I want to say thank you. Bitch can appreciate! At its best, Pretty Little Liars was campy frothy fun with some serious heart. It gave the queers of the world Emily Fields and Paige McCullers and Alison DiLaurentis. It also gave us Ravenswood, Ezria, and oh so problematic treatment of Charlotte. Most importantly, it gave us an online community, a world of inside jokes and memes that bonded us nerdy, pop culture obsessed queer folks together. Visibility still matters, now more than ever. I will miss recapping this show, but more than that, I will miss the weekly check-in on Twitter, and laughing my face off at all your hilarious comments. I’m taking a break from recapping to work on my own writing, film my web series, learn how to fly a plane, assume an alias, speak to birds, and life-jack my twin. But just like Alison DiLaurentis, I’ll be back. I hope you’ve enjoyed these recaps over the past couple of years: I’ve enjoyed writing them and getting to know all you beautiful weirdos. Ending these recaps is a real mannequin leg to the heart. What else is there to say but…XOXO bitches! http://dlvr.it/PRGG7Q