#plains of ashford

[thescreenshotblog]

[charrior-of-ash]

Yahuk Thornheart in the Abbey Ruins, Plains of Ashford

(no worries, I will answer your asks for the challenge, just trying to find a moment to think about it ._.)

[charrior-of-ash]

haha, you are a professional paparazzo xD thanks!

was great to finally meet you! if you ever ever need help or company, you know whom to call :D

Met a cool Charr today, while leveling up a new OC.

Was nice to see you around @charrior-of-ash and your very handsome Man Yahuk ♥ ;v;

[downthetubes]

In Memoriam: Comics Writer and Editor Richard Ashford

Richard Ashford, who has died at the age of 70, was one of the unsung heroes of the British comics industry. Alan Woollcombe pays tribute

[achromant]

AND HERE WE ARE! My project for the gw2 'zine!

Featuring Baruhn, reflecting on his life so far, the challenges, the small sparks of joy, the horrors, loss and gain.

For clarification's sake; I did in fact plan to depict every stage of Baruhn's life, but uuh. File was already too big.

Might do a series of short comics (graphic novels?) though, because i fking love storytelling.

Let's look at my idiotic level of detail a bit, eh?

[Long Text Ahead]

Baruhn's story begins in the Plains of Ashford. An unsuccessful attempt to stem the tide of Ascalonian Ghosts leads to the demise of many year-long allies. Dozens of brave soldiers gave their life for a mere week of peace until the ghosts reformed. They always do. Soldiers don't.

Shaken in his faith in the Legions, the first seeds of doubt arise.

Until finally he found someone to trust with his pain. In a tavern at the edge of the Black Citadel, he gets to know this odd fellow, who is continuosly follow by the faint smell of sulfur. Although Baruhn knew where that path led, the warmth radiating from the old veteran in front of him was not only a physical, but an emotional one.

With the Three Legions busy with their internal quarrels, fighting over an empty promise, Baruhn took the first steps down a previously thought to be dark path.

Surprisingly, die Flame Legion was welcoming, their fires offered light and guidance, the embers igniting the skies like stars. Surely this was better than the cold metal over the Black Citadel.

Baruhn took to learning first, handling the small flames with ease after years of throwing fireballs at ghostly shapes. Then, he figured out how to teach, and that is where the real magic comes from. Nurturing a flame, protecting it from harsh winds, adding a bit of kindling and coal here and there. He even taught the more elusive ways of magic that wield smoke and ash.

Baruhn knew about the war, the countless lifes lost on the other side of the fence. But those were humans, and here he was among family.

That is, until he met Molly.

After a small recon mission that was assured not to be much of a hurdle, Baruhn found himself alone in a forest. The small fires he conjured for light and warmth only drew in the nearby villagers. Those with pitchforks and torches, with crude swords and a thirst for blood. He couldn't really bring himself to hate them, this was war after all. But at what cost are these battles to be won?

Trying to escape the villagers was a futile attempt. He sank to the ground, his own hot blood dousing the little flames beneath his weary head.

For some reason - maybe hope, maybe resignation - he forced open his heavy eyes, only to discover his wounds cleaned and bandaged with fragile white cloth. A small human girl, of all things in this damned forest, tried to help. Even in his weakened state, even with just one hand, Baruhn could have easily grabbed her and cracked her skull. But the only thing he did was listen. He listened to the ramblings of the small human, going on and on about faries made of leaves and gnomes of stone. She called him "bear".

When the villagers came, they saw the girl at his side. That was all it took for them to turn on her. She was to be executed like that beast that now slowly stepped in front of her. For the first time, Baruhn spoke to the girl. "close your eyes."

Fire roared, not red, not orange. not a warm, welcoming fire. Not one that belongs in a hearth, that thrives in the arms of a family. This was so much worse. This was years of inner conflict, of doubt, of closing his eyes on the other side of the fence. For the first time in his life, this was the only thing that he wanted to do, protect the little insignificant human behind him. Fire roared, and it burned wood and it burned flesh.

Baruhn picked up the little girl, she held tight to his horns, nestled in his mane. He ran for hours, years of military training finally useful. The little girl, Molly, lost her mother years ago. She burned in the fires of a war she tried to escape. "And your father? What about your family?", he asked between deep breaths. Molly was quiet for a while, then whispered, her voice barely audible, "My father burned today."

They stayed together, for quite a while. He protected her, and she, with her head full of stories, and a book full of dreams, protected him.

Things came, things went. Baruhn rejoined the High Legions, acting as a spy for Ash, keeping an eye on Iron and Blood.

Baruhn ultimately took on his role as Novice, then Archivist, then Commander. He helped during the struggles against Scarlet. A small flame here and there, some shrouding smoke, a well timed lightning strike. It was other people that finally defeated Scarlet, but he was always in the background, with all the small things at just the right time.

Mordremoth came, but with him new allies.

It was but a small tangent in the grand scheme of things. Watching the fragile sapling while waging war on the jungle itself.

Their relation was something more than friendship, something else than love. They were there for each other when they needed to be. Be it only to keep a flame burning or to banish the voices to the back of the head again, they walked the same path for a long time.

Tarir, the Egg. Aurene. A new flame entrusted to him, his to nurture, his to raise. A gamble, again. What if that little flame would some day devour the world? But Baruhn did, what he could do best. Teach.

Darker times came. Caudecus and the White Mantle. The raid on the Mursaat's prison. Then facing the last Mursaat himself.

Balthazar came, and in his wake a new kind of fire. A war, similar to the ones Baruhn had seen before, but still different. A war without a cause, war for war's sake. War against nature, against the world, like a child lashing out when there were none to help them up. Maybe Balthazar's flames were not too different from his.

After the festering swamp that Joko was, came the mountain, Kralkatorrik. Death was not a hindrance anymore, not for the Commander and his dragon. The story went as the story goes.

When it came to face the frost, the whispers, Jormag. Everything fell apart. Jormag pried into the deepest, darkest corners of Baruhn's life, dragged every doubt, small as it may have been, into the light. In the ice, every truth was warped, encased in whispers, in lies. It suffocated any hope and planted even darker seeds than anyone thought possible.

It was the spirit of the Raven that aided Baruhn. Even the black feathers of its wings were shimmering like rainbows in the moonlight.

A small piece stayed with him, just a fragment. Nevermore.

After that, the stars themselves. Astralaria.

So many stories that make a life, so many pieces. Every encounter, every step along the way is another fragment of the whole. People are made of other people, that is what it means to be alive.

[alaynestcnes]

joffrey and jon anti parallels makes me crazy in relation to jonsa : joffrey = king/prince who's secretly a bastard, jon = a bastard who's secretly a prince heir.

both have Uncle/dads(joffrey is literal😭) wrapped in secrecy plots, joffrey knows who his mother is jon does not. they both THINK they know who their father is but its false.

jon has close and complicated ties with his siblings/family, joffrey has complicated but distant almost non existent ties with his family.

Sansa dreams of marrying joffrey the "rightful dragon heir" at the beginning only to hate him and sansa doesn't think much of Jon earlier only later in the books does it hint at them getting closer

looking at all of this its impossible for me to think grrm wouldn't pull an irony stunt with jonsa, considering the ashford theory and them having reversal roles in sansa's beginning and end plot points

the joff/jon anti parallels are so special. like i will die on the hill that grrm is one of the great literary geniuses of our time because of the way he interlaces storylines, plays into stereotypes to subvert them, mirrors and plays with themes between all his characters. you could dedicate your life to analysing them (and people have) and still always have new things to discover and discuss.

the ‘prince who is really a bastard’ vs ‘bastard that is really a prince’ parallel is fun on its own. but when you add an extra lens of both their (real and potential) relationships with sansa it’s enough to make me feral.

i think it’s interesting how grrm really reinforces the joff/jon contrast (and positions sansa as a nexus within this contrast) when they both (essentially) deliver her a head. joff, her perfect fairytale prince, gives her her father’s head. jon, the prince hidden in plain sight, beheads janos slynt and answers her prayers. though this isn’t known to either of them, it’s an interesting connection that i find hard to believe was coincidental by grrm. the head joff gave her fractured her dreams and belief in songs/hope. maybe when she learns about the head jon (inadvertently) gave her, it will contrast again with joff, by reigniting a sense of hope and love….

it would be such a compelling way to bookend sansa’s romantic experience.

[ratasum]

Once upon a time, an awkward, naive, sheltered teenage asura made her way into the Plains of Ashford. Nothing's been the same in her life since.

(Qirri baby pics made possible by cheap ass starter gear, 250 transmutes, and selling a leggy to buy the perma hair kit.)

[geddy-leesbian]

hey look it's all my Serrennedy fic (note that I did not come up with tags for the AU's until making this post, meaning I have to go back to retroactively tag the posts I've made, which is going to take a while because tumblr's search is hot garbage.)

and also due to tumblr's search being garbage, searching my blog for my tags won't give you shit, but if you click to search all of tumblr instead, every post will show up. idk man, that's just how it is.

RE2 AU

started as a one-shot and then spiraled into a whole RE2 AU. the only thing I've written where things pretty much go right for them 💖 Leon isn't a government agent, Luis is a stay at home dad, and Claire and Luis lovingly bully Leon together.

tag: 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆.

How Do You Talk To Girls? (2/3 chapters posted)

❝Don Juan, eh? Always thought of myself as more of a Don Quixote, but if the shoe fits… How about we try some practice anyway? I can talk to you like I'd talk to a girl, give you a first-hand demonstration.❞ OR Leon tries to learn how to pick up women from Luis, and instead has a bisexual awakening and picks up Luis. Task Failed Successfully.

“𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒖𝒅” (unpublished WIP)

Claire and Luis are getting married.

Something A Little More Plain

Not in the same continuity as the other two fics, but it is an RE2 AU, so I'm putting it here. Just really soft Luis being a dad to twins content. The only thing I've written about them that is just fluff and no angst.

❘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘🖤⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘❘

Signals // Childhood Friend AU

playlist

tag: 【𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙫𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙤.】

𝑇𝘩𝜀 𝛥𝜋𝛼𝑙𝜎𝑔 𝐾𝜄𝜕 (1988)

you move me, you move me. with your buildings and your eyes, autumn woods and winter skies. you call me, you call me.

»»————-💙————-««

somewhere out of a memory, of lighted streets on quiet nights… (1988)

»»————-💙————-««

ΠⴹⰞ Ⱎ⎕ᒥᒪᗪ ᎷᗅΠ (1988-2004)

he's old enough to know what’s right, but young enough not to choose it.

»»————-💙————-««

Digital Man // Open Secrets (2004) (1/? chapters posted)

Well I guess we all have these feelings we can’t leave unreconciled. Some of them burned on our ceilings, some of them learned as a child.

The things that we’re concealing will never let us grow. Time will do its healing, you’ve got to let it go.

❘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘🖤⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘❘

BU2B (aka Leon Fucking Dies)

(2/3 chapters posted)

❝That Agent Kennedy is proving to be quite a thorn in my side, much like you. I need him to live long enough for him to appreciate his gift and go home and begin to spread it to the rest of the world, but he's starting to cause a little too much trouble. But still, it would be a shame to have to kill him. Such a 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 it would be. If only there was some distraction to keep him occupied and out of trouble… You 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 him, don't you?❞ ❝This isn't about him. Say whatever you want about 𝘮𝘦, but keep 𝘩𝘪𝘴 name out of your mouth.❞ ❝But you'll want to hear this: He's quite fond of you too. He doesn't want to admit it, but I've been in his head. He likes it when you tease him. He 𝘵��𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 you. You could send him on wild goose chases over and over, and he'd just keep following you, until time ran out.❞

❘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘🖤⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘❘

𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫 (𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒆)

My very first Serrennedy fic,,, someday there will be a second chapter, but I have zero idea of when because I've been fighting demons tbh (by demons I mean various rough drafts because I can't figure out what the fuck to do with it. The ideas are there,,,,, but the execution is not 🫠)

Luis thinks he's a shitty person. Leon disagrees.

❘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘🖤⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘❘

Other random stuff kicking around in my drafts (and feel free to ask about any of these because I love talking about them):

AU where Luis sabotages the Nemesis Project, gets caught, and sent to Rockfort Island.

Alfred Ashford notices that Luis was a child prodigy and thinks that's neat because he's a weirdo and Alexia was a child prodigy. So instead of being executed, Luis is forced to be his friend until Alexia wakes up from her cryo stasis thing. (And being his friend is not a good time, because he's a weirdo and threatens to get his sniper rifle and hunt down Luis for sport a lot.) Luis gets out when Claire does, and goes back to Valdelobos after to hide from Umbrella, meaning RE4 will still happen, although slightly different. Luis is much colder and very hesitant to help Leon, because trying to do the right thing previously got him sent to a concentration camp.

❘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘🖤⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘❘

DON'T WALK AWAY

Songfic. While Leon and Ashley are waiting on a helicopter to come pick them up post-RE4, Luis tries to quietly slip away, because he thinks he's a shitty person who doesn't deserve to have Leon. Leon notices him trying to leave and says fuck that and argues with him, insisting that he will come with Leon.

❘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘🖤⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘❘

Don't have a title yet, but a little thing where Leon gets a call from Chris right after he gets back from Spain. Chris says the BSAA has been conducting their own investigation into what happened, and they found someone ex-Umbrella they had been trying to track down for years severely injured, but alive while searching the place, who claims to know Leon and that Leon would vouch that he's a good person now.

[truthandshadow]

Once exams are over I really want to try out the big inkle loom I got secondhand last year. I haven’t done anything with it because of school, but I really want to figure out the max weaving length on that loom because the seller didn’t know.

But. I find plain weave kind of boring and I don’t want to spend ages on a boring pattern. On the other hand if I do a more complex pattern it’ll take even longer to weave.

I always think those huge inkle floor looms are super cool in theory and they really expand the possibilities of what you can make with the resulting band, but I’d never want to use one because I wouldn’t want to work on the same pattern for so long.

My Ashford Inklette isn’t great for card weaving but I love it for inkle weaving because it’s so small and light. I typically use it sitting on my bed because it slides around on my desk without a pot gripper underneath.

[konig-varorson]

Lost “Lore”: Creature Codex

Back during Guild Wars 2′s Beta Weekend Events in 2012, there was a system that would unfortunately get removed. One that players have since asked for time and time again. It was actually nicely implemented too, however, it had some major flaws.

The Creature Codex.

These were books bought from various NPCs throughout the game that talked about various factions and world bosses. In the betas, we only got to see those found in Queensdale, Wayfarer, and Plains of Ashford.

When used, you’d open up a brief cinematic that would cycle through three paragraphs and show off a model of the faction (or the world boss) in question, giving players a blurb text about the subject.

It wasn’t super fancy, but from what text was able to be recovered by players, it did add some stuff that is unique - for example, did you know that there are male harpies? I didn’t. For a few years, I had theorized that they mated with other races to reproduce as an all-female race, similar to asari from Mass Effect, since we see multiple events of harpies “flirting” with grawl, asura, and others.

One of the major failing factors was that each book of the creature codex, when used for the first time, would give the character a skill point (predecessor of the current hero point, which were given every time you leveled up or completed a skill challenge - now hero challenge). This made getting skill points obscenely easy, because codex books could also be put into the bank’s storage section (just like miniatures back in the day). This meant that you could find all the codexes on one character, open them, bank them, swap characters, and pull them from banks to get all those free easy skill points.

If memory serves me right, these skill points also served as skill challenges, meaning that it was instant progress on map completion as well.

I’m sure that’s not the only (or main) reason they were cut down. ArenaNet is very big on making features look pretty and function uniquely and well, so it’s possible these were cut because of how basic the cinematics look - a simple background, a model, and text that you can’t control isn’t very much to look at.

Still, here’s hoping that one day ArenaNet will make a proper codex function for all the Points of Interest, factions, species, and major characters out there.

[thescreenshotblog]

[sixty-silver-wishes]

My thoughts on Broadway's "Sweeney Todd"

A few days ago, my friend and I saw Sweeney Todd on Broadway, and I have a lot of thoughts about the production. I've been obsessed with this musical for years and have seen quite a few performances, so here's what I thought of this one.

Right away, it was amazing. The lighting added a lot to this production, and while the way the set was constructed was a bit unconventional (usually, there's a separate area of the stage sectioned off for the pie shop so two scenes can happen at once, but in this one, they had a bridge over the stage that some scenes took place on), I thought it was still effective. The orchestral arrangement was an interesting change (and even sounded like Shostakovich or Weill at times!), although I was disappointed to not hear the iconic factory whistle in the opening.

So, the acting. I'll go through each character/actor and what I thought of their performance, and how it impacted the overall show. "Sweeney Todd" is a play where every single action or bit of dialogue is important and culminates towards the conclusion, and so the way the characters are interpreted often offers a different angle on the play as a whole.

Josh Groban did an excellent job as Sweeney Todd, and I really appreciated that, since his voice is very melodic, he didn't try to replicate Len Cairou or George Hearn. Sweeney is a very complex character, and I've noticed that most actors who play him take on a different angle of his personality to focus on. Cairou focuses on the pensive, methodical side of the character, Hearn's Sweeney emphasizes madness and rage, and while I'm not a huge fan of Johnny Depp's performance in the movie adaptation, his Sweeney Todd focuses more on his melancholy side. Groban's Sweeney, by contrast, is sentimental. We see him express rage and impatience, two core aspects of Sweeney Todd, but where he's most effective are numbers like the "Johanna" reprise and "No Place Like London/The Barber and his Wife." Sentimentality isn't an emotion typically associated with the character of Sweeney Todd, but Groban's performance hammered in how critical it is to his character. After all, Sweeney Todd is haunted and motivated by his past- his love for his wife and daughter, and his hatred of the judge who tore them from him. This even allows for moments of tenderness- for example, during the "Johanna" reprise, Sweeney spares a man who comes into his barber shop, because he came with his wife. While this could be explained by him not wanting any witnesses, Groban's performance made this moment (forgive the pun) surprisingly cutting. Sweeney is hoping to be reunited with his daughter and is reminiscing about Lucy, and so the man who earlier declared that "we all deserve to die" is letting a young couple live. Groban's "Epiphany," probably the moment I examine the most when watching an actor play Sweeney Todd, was stunning. The insanity and anger wasn't as pronounced as Hearn's, perhaps, but with the way Groban played the character, it didn't need to be. His rage is mainly driven by grief more than madness, and it showed through his angular movements, the near-desperation mixed with fury during the "you, sir" sequence where he breaks the fourth wall, and of course, his emotional performance during the "and I'll never see Johanna"/"and my Lucy lies in ashes" sequences, which require a sudden, yet convincing, emotional shift that he pulled off masterfully.

Jeanna De Waal's Lovett was just plain fun. While I was curious to see how Annaleigh Ashford would have played her, De Waal pulled off a youthful Mrs. Lovett in a hilarious, flirty way. Angela Lansbury was perhaps the most iconic Lovett (although LuPone's performance was stunning as well), and was particularly notable for her dark comedy through the juxtaposition of being a matronly pie shop owner and an accomplice to murder and cannibalism. I feel like the "matronly" aspect of Mrs. Lovett is probably one of the most important facets of her character, which is why I tend to prefer performances by older actresses as Lovett to younger ones, but De Waal, like Groban, gave a unique performance, in her case using her youth to her advantage. Her Lovett was constantly flirting with Todd, which created some hilarious juxtaposition between their personalities, and she added a lot of energy to her comedic lines, especially during "A Little Priest," where her chemistry with Groban was a blast to watch. I do wish she had a bit more chemistry with Gaten Matrazzo as Toby, which would have made the ending scene hit harder emotionally, and her sinister side explored further. De Waal focused mostly on the comedy aspect of Mrs. Lovett, who at her core is a ruthless manipulator, so I understand she's an incredibly difficult character to pull off when balancing those two elements. Nonetheless, I thought her acting was really enjoyable to watch, although she was more effective in comedic scenes than dramatic ones.

I don't have a ton to say about Jordan Fisher's portrayal of Anthony; I liked his performance overall, but I felt he came across as slightly too mature, although maybe this came down to his voice. Anthony is a very idealistic and naïve character, meant to contrast with the cutthroat, conniving world of "Sweeney Todd." I didn't think I really got this with Fisher as much as with some other performances I've seen, but the maturity he gave to the character did pose an interesting angle in his scenes with Todd, as Groban's sentimentality meant an almost paternal dynamic between Todd and Anthony. This isn't an angle I see a lot, but it was definitely one I thought was really fascinating. His chemistry with Maria Bilbao as Johanna was good, and I felt he provided some grounding to her more neurotic portrayal.

I loved Bilbao's Johanna. Technical skill of singing "Green Finch and Linnet Bird" aside (which she nailed), I feel like a lot of productions miss the point of this number. "Green Finch" is to introduce Johanna and her trapped circumstances, yes, but I see too many productions that simply have it performed as a sad, pretty, virtuosic number, without saying too much about who Johanna is as a character, or the effects the circumstances she sings about have had on her. Betsy Joslyn's was unique in that she attempts to seem somewhat frazzled while singing it, but her purposefully-crossed eyes and overexaggerated vibrato risk coming across more as caricature than a sincere performance. Bilbao, however, is heartbreaking. Her Johanna is fighting to keep her wits together, evidently broken by living with an abusive father figure, and when she sings "teach me to be more adaptive," it almost seems like a prayer. (This also has the effect of making the following number, "Ah, Miss," darkly hilarious, as it implies Anthony was watching this random girl having a mental breakdown and immediately decided he was in love with her.) Her blocking was restricted and tense, almost making her look like a caged bird, and her facial expressions and gestures were cautious and restrained, bringing to mind a scared animal. This really brought home the essence of Johanna's character- while she's often played as a classic ingenue, Johanna is, in fact, a subversion of the archetype- a realistic portrayal of the mental strain a young girl locked away with a man like Turpin and kept from seeing the outside world would actually face. I honestly really like Johanna as a character because there's a lot more depth to her than is often portrayed, so it was really refreshing to see Bilbao apply this level of nuance to her.

Matrazzo's Toby was, of course, excellent. Toby is probably the character with the most variation across productions, as he can be portrayed as anywhere between a child to a young adult. Matrazzo shone particularly in two scenes- "Not While I'm Around" and the final monologue. Like "Green Finch," "Not While I'm Around" is a number that's frequently misinterpreted, with some performances portraying it as simply as an example of Toby's affection for and devotion to Mrs. Lovett. "Not While I'm Around," despite its lyrics, is not a sweet, tender number. In context, it's terrifying, and luckily, Matrazzo portrays this. His Toby is desperate, even frustrated. While it's not particularly dwelled on in the play, Toby has been mistreated by Pirelli, and so latches onto Mrs. Lovett, who he sees as a genuinely nurturing protective figure. However, not only is Lovett turning people into meat pies, she has no real love for Toby and is primarily focused on manipulating Todd, who, in turn, is also trying to use her for his own gain. However, from Toby's perspective, he's been abused, sees signs of abuse in Todd, and wants to prevent Mrs. Lovett, whom he genuinely loves, from meeting the same fate. Matrazzo's desperation puts this context largely into focus, adding to the suspense of the number. And in the final monologue, I got chills from the way he vacillated between a manic sing-songy tone and complete numbness, sometimes even normalcy. I've seen many productions where Toby keeps the "insane" tone throughout the monologue, but Matrazzo doesn't do that. When he says "you know, you shouldn't harm anyone," it's eerily straightforward and calm.

John Rapson (Beadle Bamford), Nicholas Christopher (Pirelli), and Ruthie Ann Miles (Lucy) were all fun to watch; I enjoyed how Rapson kept the character quirk of rolling his "R's," which not all Beadle Bamford actors do. His falsetto range was incredible, and his performance during "Parlor Songs" was both amusing and suspenseful. Christopher's Pirelli was good, but I felt he didn't place as much over-exaggeration in his lines as I would have liked to see, although I really enjoyed his facial expressions. And Miles' Lucy was absolutely haunting; I've seen a few productions where "Poor Thing" is portrayed through interpretive dance, and thought she especially stood out here, as her movements and blocking added a lot to her character.

Finally, Jamie Jackson as Judge Turpin was repulsive in the best possible way. His voice and delivery had me on edge, and I also couldn't get it out of my head that his facial expressions reminded me of Werner Krauss in "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," which added a whole extra layer of creepiness. His Turpin felt incredibly realistic, like that creepy uncle or skeevy politician you always read about in the news, although he was surprisingly effective with comedic lines, especially the way he enthusiastically delivered the line "ah yes, women!" in "Pretty Women." He brought an air of discomfort to the stage every time he was on it, and the suspense in every scene between him and Groban was extremely palpable.

[wilsons-journey]

Shoutout (and reminder to myself):

Talk more to NPCs.

Some highlights from Smokestead (Plains of Ashford.)

"Or kill something"

We talked about the "cute" game "Kill or get killed

It's such a wild bunch of Charr Cubs. I love them. But there is also this cute lil guy:

Kirt needs to be protected at any cost.

The Thwack-Warband, I remember someone else on Tumblr mentioned that. Still funny.

Wait, lemme write that down. Meat. Meat and ah yes Meat.

[antaxzantax]

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 53

Summary: William Birkin is demoted to lab chief in the subway laboratory. William Birkin confronts Alexia Ashford.

1

Their last handshake as heads of research at the Arklay laboratory. Albert was leaving for the Department of Information on his own initiative and after having lost his passion for research when he came up against the limits of his talent.

William was staying on.

“I'll miss you.” William smiled.

“We still work at the same company. We'll see each other again.” Albert repositioned his suit jacket.

“Sure... Uhm... I remember the first time I saw you. You looked to me like you'd just come out of a juvenile facility.”

Albert shrugged.

“I've changed my style.” He headed for the exit.

“We'll see each other again.” William waved goodbye behind him. “My best friend.”

Albert glanced sideways at William.

And walked away.

2

He mounted a Mr. Spock on a little wooden horse. Spock began to ride across the barren plains of Mars toward the horizon. But a pterodactyl suddenly appeared in his path. The pterodactyl swooped down and caught Spock with its powerful claws. Spock tried to free himself from the dinosaur's deadly embrace, but his strength paled before the monster's physical power. The horsie fell to the rocks, where he died, stripped naked. But Spock had an ace up his sleeve: he activated the explosive he had kept in his jacket. Unable to react, the pterodactyl and Spock exploded like a mushroom cloud, their guts raining down on Mars.

Sherry whimpered at the tragic loss of her pterodactyl. William, emboldened by the triumph, picked up the Spock and raised it to the sky like the bone that the ape threw into space to become a man. A resounding demonstration that intelligence always defeated brute force.

Sherry, helpless, wept.

“Oh... Come on, don't cry.” William hugged her. “It was just a stupid game.”

Sherry whimpered.

“We will resurrect the pterodactyl, and it will join Spock in a new adventure.”

She stood up with her five-year-old daughter in her arms.

“Are they best friends?” Sherry asked, sniffling.

“Of course they'll be friends. Why wouldn't they be?”

Sherry cowered in her father's hollow but did not respond. William sighed.

“There are many reasons... Sometimes, people don't like each other...” he said to himself. “Anyway. Forget about it.”

“You love me...” Sherry said sleepily.

“Yes...”

There was a knock at the door. Annette appeared on the scene with a letter in her hand. She stood next to her husband and showed him the Umbrella logo. William lowered Sherry to the floor. Both parents exchanged glances and then left the bedroom. Sherry was left alone in the room with the charred remains of the pterodactyl and Mr. Spock strewn across the brown sand.

They went into William's office on the first floor. Armed with a letter opener, Annette cut open the flap and uncovered the single sheet of paper contained in the envelope.

They skipped the greeting and went to the climax:

Both researchers have been ordered to be transferred to the new underground laboratory built on the outskirts of Raccoon City.

“Underground laboratory?” Annette questioned the paper, frankly surprised. “Were there more labs?”

William scratched his neck.

“No. There is the Training Center and Arklay.”

“They must have built it now,” Annette concluded quickly. “And weren't we supposed to be notified in advance?” She stiffened her voice and gesture.

“Yes. No. I don't know.” William felt a sudden uneasiness.

That night he would have insomnia.

3

The full moon was gliding across the London sky. The City bustled with activity at midnight. From a zenithal view, suits and gowns were scouring the labyrinthine streets like the marabout sweeping through the jungle, like an amorphous mass of ephemeral passions and a permanent drive for self-assertion.

She sipped from a glass filled with water, enjoying the lush beauty of the pale satellite. Her father preferred to drink Scotch and improvise on the grand piano.

He waited for her to decide. A complex decision.

Reflected in the window glass, the silhouette of the reddish pendant her grandmother had given her when she turned eighteen was visible. The pendant she wore when her grandmother died in her arms a year before and during the funeral.

Although accustomed to the dying and decadent, Elizabeth's last exhalation made a deep impression on her. For an unknown reason, her grandmother had allowed no one else to be present at her dying except her granddaughter Alexia. On her deathbed, Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly and, in Dutch, confessed her last will:

“Sterf niet zoals Edward.”[1]

These last words anchored themselves in her mind like a wreck to the rocks on which she was decomposing. Perhaps her grandmother had been well-meaning, but that last interaction unsettled Alexia because it took her back to the frozen corridors of Antarctica...

But she had to go back.

She had to get back to Umbrella.

She had to do it for herself and for what she lost that fateful month of January. After eight years in the shadows, it was time to stick her head out into the light and prove to herself who she really was. Her grandmother had been afraid, hence the deathbed warning. But not Alexia. She was not afraid.

She had to get back to Umbrella.

“Dad.”

Alexander played the last note after listening to Alexia.

“Uhm?”

“I want to go back.”

Alexander rose from the armchair with the glass of Scotch in his hand and accompanied his daughter in the vision of the busy and bright city.

“As you wish.”

Alexia looked to her father to continue.

“Chief researcher in the underground laboratory, then. We have centralized the administration of these labs in Chicago, so you will be on your own and free of bureaucracy. The new project that was started at Arklay, the G, will be yours.”

Alexia nodded.

A decade had to pass.

4

Alex looked at the paper her father had secretly passed to her. The note listed two proper names: Alexander and Alexia Ashford.

“Under no circumstances mention the T-virus and be concise with your answers. I will lead the conversation.” Spencer imposed as he adjusted his jacket.

Alex nodded.

There was a knock at the door.

“Go ahead.” Spencer took off the cane he used as a support to stay upright and walk.

Patrick opened the door and gave way to a middle-aged blond man and a much younger, equally blond woman. The man and woman looked alike physically, so they were the two waiting guests.

“Alexander. Alexia.” Spencer turned to introduce Alex. “My daughter: Alexandra. Alexandra: Alexander and Alexia Ashford.”

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows but expressed no distinguishable emotion. Alexia remained static as she held Alex's gaze.

“She will be the chief researcher at the Arklay laboratory.”

Alexander stepped forward at last and shook Alex's hand.

“A pleasure to meet you.”

Alexia shook it at second.

“A pleasure,” she said with impersonal correctness.

“We have three ‘Alexes’ in the room,” Spencer joked as he picked up the cane. “Sasha and Lexia. Alexandra was born in America, so she doesn't have a nickname like ours. She's just Alex.” Spencer started walking towards the dining room. “And you have yet to meet Alf, who is not present but is also a friend.” He winked discreetly at Alexander and Alexia.

“Another time.” Alexander joined in the banter.

Spencer directed Patrick to open the double doors to the dining room.

“Will you join me for this dinner?” He invited them in.

Alexander and Alexia made their way to the dining room. Alex, standing behind them, merely observed their mannered gait, the slim cut of their suits and their back erect with a superiority complex. She relied on her experience as the stepdaughter of a millionaire rancher to survive the British upper class and win in the attempt.

5

Alexander opened the file cabinet containing the files of the Arklay lab's senior scientists. He pulled out all the folders at once and placed them on the table with a resounding thud. The water glass shook, and a pen fell to the floor.

Alexia began flipping through the names inscribed in each folder. Alexander picked up the pen and went to eat from the dessert plate they had been served to endure an arduous afternoon transferring and restructuring the staff of the new clandestine laboratory.

“Who was the chief investigator?” asked Alexia.

Alexander returned to the table while eating a pretzel. He rummaged through the chaos of papers until he came upon a cardboard listing the staff and their positions.

“There were two. William Birkin and Albert Wesker.” He read both names. “I saw them once when I went to Spencer manor to start the Tyrant project. Oswell told me Wesker had moved department. Birkin is still there, but Alexandra is replacing him at Arklay. Spencer asked me to keep him for us in the underground lab. Anything else you want to know?”

Alexia shook her head. Alexander retreated to the table with the desserts as he finished eating the pretzel. She continued to flip through the covers until she hit on what she was looking for.

Birkin, W.

She cleared the table of unimportant documents and opened the file.

First, a couple of photographs of the aforementioned. A first photo from when he was fifteen years old and attended the Training Center. Ordinary appearance. The second photo depicted a man in his early thirties, dressed in the same nondescript manner as the teenager in the first photo, and with a similar haircut. He turned the page. Below was a breakdown of his academic record. He started college when he was twelve. He also attended Harvard and took almost the same subjects. In these subjects, Alexia passed him by a few tenths. He earned her doctorate at seventeen. She turned over a new leaf. Personal information. Married with one daughter. Irrelevant. Turned page. Psychological profile. Erratic attitude and prone to stress. However, loyal to the company and hard worker. Poor social skills. Turned page. Directed projects. T. Hunter virus. Licker. Tyrant. Virus G.

Turned to the G-virus page.

Derived from the Progenitor. Discovered in the body of an unknown experimental subject at Spencer Manor.

“Father, who was the zero subject of G?”

Alexander put coffee in the machine.

“A woman,” he answered. “I don't know who she is. Someone from Raccoon City whom Oswell kidnapped as a guinea pig. Ask him.”

Alexia carefully reviewed the description of the G-virus. That was not her virus. The one she had lost. She didn’t want it. However, this William individual could perhaps be useful. Maybe.

“I want William Birkin as my lab chief,” demanded Alexia.

Alexander shrugged his shoulders.

“As you wish.”

6

His body was shaking like a jackhammer. In his frantic run, he collided with a passerby as he was crossing the alley toward the sales office. The passerby shat on his dead. The letter fell out of his hands, but he picked it up with extreme alacrity. In picking it up, he tripped over himself and ended up on the ground. Exhausted, he got up and resumed running until he found himself in front of the double door of the sales office.

He pressed the intercom button at two o'clock at night.

Silence.

He pressed the intercom button again.

“Who's calling?” A cavernous, distorted voice was heard through the loudspeaker.

“Wi... -William Birkin. I need to get through. Open the door!”

His voice trembled with cold and fury. Under the trench coat, he was dressed only in pajamas and underpants. As soon as Annette fell asleep, he ran away from home.

“Open the damn door!” William pounded his fists on the glass door.

“Identification number.” The voice demanded with tense calm. “Identification number.”

William stopped. He exhaled to calm himself and recalled the string of numbers and letters that constituted his employee ID.

“N... N0584H.”

“Wait a moment.” The intercom went dead.

Seconds turned into hours and hours into eons. He began to prowl like a wolf for his prey, twisting the buttons of his trench coat.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck....”

“Dr. Birkin, you may come in.”

William trotted through the automatic doors. Behind the next door, a little middle-aged man with a clerical look and a sour face was waiting for him.

“Dr. Birkin, what do you want at this time of night?”

“The bosses.” He grabbed the receiver of the first phone he saw. “I have to talk to the bosses.”

“Hey, wait, what bosses? What the hell do you want?”

The little man snatched the phone out of her hands. With a grim look on his face, he faced him and put the handset back in the cradle.

“What the fuck do you want?!”

William looked dumbfounded at the little man.

“There has been a mistake.” He smiled with his hands on his head. “It was a mistake. A mistake.”

The little man armed himself with a stapler to fend off the madness of the freak in front of him.

“It was a mistake, wasn't it?”

William looked to the distraught little man for understanding.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“It was a mistake!”

He grabbed the little man by the arms with more force than he was able to recognize. The little man then stapled one of his hands to defend himself from the deadly embrace. The pang of pain worked, and William retreated to the back of the room, with the little man ready to rip his head off if necessary.

William, dizzy, sat down on one of the chairs. For a second, he recognized that he was behaving like a madman, but the burning he felt inside him impelled him to seek answers by any means, at any cost, destroying if necessary.

“I have been demoted.”

William slumped his shoulders and clenched his fists.

“I've been demoted to lab chief.”

The little man escaped to the security alarm under the main desk. He pressed the button.

William's tears were running down his cheeks.

“My life... My life's work... My work. The effort...” William whispered to himself.

The little man noticed that the doctor had narrowed his eyes and was lamenting to himself. Security was running late.

“Why...”

He didn't believe it was real, but the sulfuric acid burning inside him was. As real as his flesh. As real as the chair. As real as the table. As real as the little man in front of him.

“Nooo!”

William began banging his head against the metal tabletop.

“Nooo!” He smacked his forehead. “Nooo!” He smacked his forehead again.

He stood up and pumped his fists. The punch reverberated through the office like an earthquake. The little man, pale with fear, slipped into the lobby. As the little man fled for his life, a pair of security guards entered the office.

“Calm down!” One of them exclaimed with a pacifying gesture. The other guard was approaching from the opposite side of the table, ready to surround him from behind.

William stood up.

“I want to talk to the bosses!” He threw a security cup in front of him.

The cup landed on the legs of the first. Meanwhile, the second caught him from behind and immobilized his arms. The assaulted security guard drew his truncheon.

He stabbed him in the abdomen. Once. Twice. William shrieked in pain. At the fourth blow, both security guards lifted him up. They crossed the office. The lobby. The automatic door slid open.

He was thrown face down on the alley floor. His nostrils became intoxicated with the stench of filth, vomit and urine that varnished the asphalt.

“Ughmm...”

His abdomen ached as if he had hit a bumper. Palpitations in the eardrums. Blurred vision.

He could not get up.

He cried.

7

Dear Mr. Ashford:

A subject broke into the Umbrella Pharmaceuticals sales office in Raccoon City around 02:00 a.m. The subject threatened an employee and had to be restrained by building security. There was no property damage or human injury.

The subject in question is William Birkin.

Mr. Spencer advised us that from now on communications concerning this employee fall under his personal jurisdiction. We are aware that the subject has been transferred with his wife, Annette Birkin, to the underground laboratory. If you have any concerns regarding this case, please reply to this message.

Sincerely yours,

Paul Jenkins

Security Director, Umbrella Pharmaceuticals

8

A pungent tobacco smell collapsed the air pocket that had been generated in the laboratory. Alex watched her sexagenarian father smoke his second cigar of the day. Such reckless arrogance was getting on her nerves. In any case, she concentrated on putting up with and pleasing her father in everything he asked, such as being appointed chief of a laboratory she had never set foot in in her life. She could only rely on her long experience working with Marcus in hiding.

And speaking of Marcus...

His virus was relegated to a smaller team in the same laboratory. Oswell had changed his mind: Alex was to work with the Progenitor virus, again, and not with its variants. His father wanted something. In their few years of living together, he had learned to read Oswell's emotional states. Beneath his apparent haughtiness, he noticed the simmer of anxiety. He hadn't yet figured out what was stirring his fear, but it had to do with Umbrella and himself.

“Are you finished?” asked Oswell.

Alex turned off the computer.

“Yes. Dr. Birkin ordered the investigation before he left.”

“Good. Tomorrow, you get an unadulterated sample of the Progenitor. I also want you to continue experimenting with the stuff in the basement.”

“With the woman?”

“Yes, with the woman.”

Alex nodded. Aside from anxious, her father was especially irascible because of his obsession with increasing the company's profitability to pay investors' dividends. In 1989, Umbrella Pharmaceuticals went public, and since then, the only discernible emotions in Oswell Ernest Spencer had been disgust and anger. But she remained composed. Her fateful experience with Marcus had prepared her to handle the paranoia of an old man addicted to his ambition.

She would survive.

9

The lab smelled new.

The material had been placed with care and in strict accordance with the guidelines of the chief researcher.

It was one hour before the lab chief and two hours before the presentation of the research team.

“I don't want you to be alone with that man.”

Alexander again communicated his intention to remain in place during the lab chief's presentation. Alexia sighed listlessly. Alexander picked up on his daughter's annoyance but could not help but insist because of the threat posed by the man.

“No...”

“You're not going to let him hurt me.” Alexia continue for Alexander.

“I'm sorry.”

Alexander made the pretense of retreating to the side of the room to distance himself from his daughter and respect her personal space.

“Dad...”

“Uhm?”

Alexia had leaned against the ledge of one of the countertops. Alexander knew she had come up with an idea because she kept pawing at her reddish pendant.

“When the lab chief is in, come in five minutes.”

“Three hundred seconds.” Alexander smiled.

Alexia checked the time on her wristwatch.

Three hundred seconds.

10

His stomach still hurt. Each impact felt like a howitzer launched against the epicenter of his digestive tract. Surprisingly, he had not been fired or suspended from his job. But what hurt the most was the job title on his new ID card: lab chief.

And who the hell had they chosen as chief researcher? A professor with a hundred years of experience? His blood was boiling.

He argued with Annette. She scolded him for his stupid reaction and lack of self-control. He had jeopardized his job in an absurd and childish way. He had gambled with his life and his daughter's food. He had to think about Sherry, more often. It was his decision to try it without a condom. Damn. Fuck.

William leaned against the wall leading to the main lab. He needed a breather. A long, deep breath.

Expired. Chest deflated. He sat up. They had made a mistake, and he would prove it to the incompetent they had placed as chief researcher.

The automatic doors opened.

Passed.

He turned his head to his left and then to his right.

“Dr. Birkin.” A female voice in front of him, hidden behind the machines and shelves placed in the center of the room.

He pursued the voice.

A young, slender woman, tall, blonde and blue-eyed, and pale as hospital tiles. A personification of the WASPs[2] who spoke with an accent that seemed to him British and exaggeratedly bombastic. He noticed that she was wearing a black ribbon with a small red pendant around her neck. Not very professional.

“I'm looking for the chief researcher.”

The young woman responded with a subtle smile. Without another word, she approached one of the containers. Before pressing the button to open the wire mesh, she looked at her watch. The wire mesh ascended, and William Birkin saw what was inside.

Virus G. A purplish test tube with the only existing sample of the pathogen.

William clenched his fists and made an immeasurable effort at restraint. The woman stood motionless, staring at the test tube and ignoring William Birkin with a blatancy that reddened him with fury. Her damned half-smile.

And one thing happened.

The woman touched the machine, and it started a resonant motor. And suddenly, the contents of the single test tube inserted in the machine evaporated.

The violet color faded. It was not in the glass. It had disappeared.

The sample has been removed, announced a synthetic voice.

William froze in place.

He looked at the woman.

Her eyes conveyed aggression and defiance. She was not smiling.

“I'm Dr. Alexia Ashford. I'm going to be your chief researcher. The G-Project is off the table.”

Alexia Ashford. The name rang a bell. That name... William's brain sparked. That devilish name. He remembered those three hellish years. But what he remembered most were the feelings. The helplessness, the belittling, the sadness, the anger, the misunderstanding. All of it. He remembered it all.

He clenched his fists.

The woman took a quick glance at the clock.

William pounced on Alexia.

Alexia bumped into the table. The surrounding documents flew. William pressed the woman's abdomen against the table. Alexia tried to reach up and pull herself free, but her lousy positioning prevented her from getting a good foothold. Still, she did not scream, nor did she utter the slightest sound except a rhythmic gasp. William pressed his legs against her to catch her bent as she was. And then he began to move his hands upward. Alexia, however, had stopped straining. On the contrary, she was looking at him with a flaming anger, but she didn't understand why she had stopped struggling. William imprisoned her neck with both hands. Alexia's arms came free, and she used them to grip his wrists without pulling. She didn't pull. William's hands trembled, and he squeezed.

Alexia increased the strength of her grip.

He didn't know what he was doing.

A door opened.

What the hell was he doing.

Alexia, red from incipient suffocation, smiled. A compassionate smile. She pitied him.

Why.

Alexia looked to her right.

William turned around.

There was a bearded man standing to his left. The bearded man had removed the top of his suit, exposing his hypertrophied torso and arms. The bearded man was looking at him with the same mixture of aggression, defiance and fury as Alexia.

William loosened his hands.

It was the same bearded man he had seen with Spencer at the mansion. The man who had introduced them to the Tyrant project.

Alexander Ashford.

The bearded man adopted a stance identical to the one he had seen in the boxing matches his father watched on television.

William withdrew his hands.

He was sweating the equivalent of the Pacific Ocean.

What he had done.

The bearded man lunged at William. His right fist impacted his face like a high-speed train crashing into a mountain. He grabbed William by the shoulders and impacted his head against the metal table.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

William was dripping blood from his mouth and nose.

Four times.

He fell to the ground completely unconscious.

[1] Dutch: “Don't die like Edward.”

[2] White Anglo-Saxon Protestant.

[littlefoxgw2]

Tyria Pride 2023 - two maps down and I joined a LGBT guild!! Now I just gotta get up the courage to say hi in discord lol.

Currently at the the start of Plains of Ashford on Kadra Dawnweaver repping bi colours with a pink tag! Saw a few of you already but too shy to say hi.