#I’m gonna call him Horatio King

[shadow-cooper]

I’ve been thinking about Horatio a lot more now that I’m rereading the series (yes, again lol).

SPOILERS BELOW! If you haven’t finished TDODA, don’t read further!

______

Can we all take a moment to appreciate him? Cuz I feel like he’s a character deserving of it and I haven’t seen much regarding him in the fandom.

He’s badass in every sense of the word. Like, he took a Wights FACE, made it his own, and infiltrated his old comrades with it. Like…that’s pretty metal right there. He’s nice, generally polite, funny (he told Enoch that he’d slap him with all his tongues if he still had them LOL), and is determined to protect Noor and Jacob, while making sure the prophecy was fulfilled.

This makes me wonder why he even joined the Claywings in the first place. We find out from V in chapter 13 (pg. 248), that he was once Caul’s right hand man. He probably lost that position when he became H’s companion. It’s likely that Murnau took his place in his absence.

The man has definitely been redeemed, mostly because H gave him the chance. H taught him how to use his mind, and taught him how to read and understand English. That allowed Horatio to think of other things besides the constant emptiness, hunger, and the general torture he went through while still a Hollow.

“We may be damned but we are not unredeemable” (pg. 331). And oh boy, what a redemption it was.

I just…I just love the pretty boy ok?! 😭

[lizardrosen]

okay okay, since i’ve been transing everyone’s gender lately i’m gonna talk about another concept i’ve had a while ago but never really did anything with:

trans man claudius and (closeted) trans woman hamlet

@all-mimsy helped a lot with this one! I’m tagging @butchhamlet and @suits-of-woe too, because this feels like the kind of headcanon you’d both like

claudius transitioned when he was fifteen or sixteen and his brother was eighteen. because he was never expected to be in line for the throne he hadn’t been trained in any of the duties or responsibilities of a king, and their parents were like “okay, i guess we have this son now” and just continued to ignore him

king hamlet is a massive transphobe and badmouths claudius to hamlet all the time. “With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts—. O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce” is because he must have used witchcraft since no woman would willingly choose him over a ~real~ man. hey king hamlet, fuck off maybe.

the courtiers are pretty evenly split between whispering malicious rumors about claudius, and Politely Ignoring the fact that they’ve been calling him a princess up to now. some of the new guards and courtiers have no idea he’s not cis. and it should feel like acceptance, but somehow it doesn’t.

I actually really love interpretations where hamlet has a lot more in common with claudius than with king hamlet, because they’re both more solitary and thoughtful compared to his hawkishness. so yep, he’s the fun uncle and it comes as a real shock to realize that this person hamlet trusted and loved could be capable of killing someone.

so because they’re friends, hamlet talks to claudius about gender stuff, and eventually realizes that she’s not the perfect son her father wants. (she already wasn’t going to be, but it’s a relief to know that there’s a reason for it) claudius is a really good ally and mentor and he loves his niece!

between fear of how her father will react if she comes out, and her desperate need for his approval, hamlet stays deep in the closet. her name is still hamlet and she doesn’t plan to change it because it’s a part of her.

horatio definitely knows she’s a woman. laertes sort of halfway guesses it, but thinks she’s just gay. ophelia is patient and figures hamlet will tell her whatever’s going on in her own time.

“not so, my lord, I am too much in the sun/son” becomes a fun line in this au! so does “frailty, thy name is woman” and “oh, that this too too sullied flesh would melt” and "god hath given you one face, and you make yourself another."

but the MAIN bit of dialogue that really sparked my interest in this concept is this:

HAMLET I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for England! Farewell, dear mother. KING CLAUDIUS Thy loving father, Hamlet. HAMLET My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England!

she just says that first bit without thinking, delighted by the wordplay of it, because she’s following her own train of thought that’s full of worms and beggars, and then claudius just stiffens and sounds really sad and disappointed. it takes a moment to realize why, so she says “my mother” and then it hits her, and the whole rest of her lines are a babbling justification -- she can hate him for killing her father, but she can’t hate him for his gender or for helping her figure out her own. after “and so” she trails off and looks at him with her wide pleading eyes, and winces at the look on his face and just weakly finishes “... my mother”

[oneunexpected]

I love Free Day because it means I can do Whatever I Want and I get to rb it to tucweek along with the incredible art pieces and insightful analysis other people have made and mine’s just, like, TUC as vines.

Anyway. Here’s the definitive power ranking of all minor characters* in the Underland Chronicles. It's quite long, because I tried to use every character.

Icarus -this DUUUUDE. This GUYYYYY. SUCKS! -“uh-oh looks like I’m infected with the plague better fly directly into a social gathering” -would be an anti-masker probably  0/10

Reekwell and Gushgore -Fangor and Shed part two, but unfunny this time. 1/10 y’all suck give me Fangor and Shed back

Purvox -Purvox is apparently a beautiful red spider who teaches Hazard how to “speak” Spinner. That’s cool. -that’s it. Why did Suzanne even feel the need to name her? I’m grateful for the extra details but 2/10

Ajax -mean. -nobody likes him -this is probably why he gets on so well with Solovet -some sort of flier general, it seems, which is pretty cool 2/10

Hero & Kent -twins, I guess that’s fun -they’re only like eight but they still Smirk Evilly. Good for them 2/10 just because there’s 2 of them

Anchel & Daphne -some randos Keeda mentions as dead. They probably had some sort of significance to be mentioned by name but We’ll Never Know. 2/10 RIP though. I’m sure you’re worth higher than this but I don’t even know who you are

Horatio -crony #1 -has a crush on Dulcet. Didn’t we all 3.5/10. Boosted solely by association with Dulcet

Marcus -crony #2 3/10

Wevox -thought her name was Weavox until I began writing this post -sort of “Was Margaret Thatcher a Girlboss?” vibes -“As it is, Vikus, we will not drink. Web them” is a RAW line and it bounces around my head sometimes -the spiders are clearly very crafty about their political relations but she was not going to hesitate for a MOMENT to consider the ramifications of killing the monarch of Regalia and we gotta respect that -docking points for the girlboss thing, though. 4/10

Stellovet -queen of insults you gotta be honest -had an INCREDIBLE amount of impact for only having like three lines. I remember being like 11 and reading so many fics on Fan Fiction Dot Net where she was a scheming villain -funny how Luxa thinks her endgame is just becoming a princess. She doesn’t care beyond that she just wants to be royalty 4/10

Chim -baby -ok she’s 5 -doesn’t do anything but look confused and help provide a gateway for Howard to look like a good person 5/10, for years of life. What’s even your name? Chimney?

Andromeda -she’s good. She is an Absolute Beast when she crosses the Waterway with Howard and Mareth, definitely saved Mareth’s life -loves Mareth very much :) -shuns Ares at first but comes around, we still gotta knock her for this though 5/10

Clawsin & Bloodlet & Ratriff -Some folks who go to Ripred’s side, Clawsin gets blinded from the Bane, Ratriff gets his arm ripped off by the Bane, it is what it is 5/10 collectively

Reflex -man’s got jokes -very helpful with the code -shoots streamers of silk around the room when they break it -came to Regalia secretly... secretly to whom? The spinners? The gnawers? Whatever, he’s a rebel either way -I had to look up his name though, so apparently not a lot of impact. Sorry Reflex 5/10

Treflex -announced he was joining the quest, then IMMEDIATELY died. Yes king give us nothing -made a good snack? Gross. 5/10

Cevian -the scene where they find her body is beautifully written and so heartbreaking. She’s the catalyst for the entire fourth book -gives Aurora the opportunity to make her first ever big impassioned speech. It’s what Aurora deserved -still, she doesn’t get any dialogue so I can’t vote her super high 5/10

Euripides -seems nice -always described as “Vikus’ big grey bat,” never just big bat, never just grey bat -tells Luxa to teach Gregor how to ride a bat because his neck is getting bruised lol -nice of him not to embarrass Gregor though 6/10 speak up for yourself, king

Pend -takes Boots back to Regalia after the moth brings her to the crawlers’ land -Vikus recognizes him by name which is really impressive since crawlers look pretty homogenous, although we are told Vikus is better than most at picking them out. Still, Pend is probably a high rolling crawler. 6/10

The scorpions -I know I’m supposed to be doing named characters but they’re pretty cool. The passage they’re in is a really fun read. Mad respect 6/10 I’ll see y’all in Scorpio szn, baby

Razor -showed SHAME and GUILT in the first book when he got called out by Ripred -raised Pearlpelt as if he was his own. In payment, Pearlpelt knocked him off a cliff and then tried to eat him to hide the evidence 6/10

Fangor and Shed -funny dudes. -apparently constantly drunk 6/10

Gox -Gox got shit DONE, okay? Gox got shit DONE. -would eat your carcass without a moment of hesitation. It’s fine. 6/10

Hermes -this guy is great! -brings Luxa her crown -gets seriously injured while protecting Lizzie on their way to Regalia -might be dead tbh no one ever says 7/10

Keeda -okay listen. Keeda’s great. Keeda is that warrior at the Battle of Marathon who ran all the way back to Athens to report their victory and immediately die, except Keeda was reporting that the gnawers were about to invade -listen I know she was dealing with some other stuff, but Vikus asks, “how many rats?” And she says “many. Many rats” ??? No estimate? “An army?” Whatever. We give her a pass. 7/10 RIP

Pandora -FUCK -her death was possibly the MOST disturbing passage I’ve ever read. I could see it so, so vividly in my head. Man I remember the horror -she just wanted to explore 7/10 but also 2/10 for emotional trauma

Queen Athena -ICONIC one-liner in Curse of the Warmbloods, absolutely demolishes the gnawers over their treatment of the nibblers -I’m really biased towards her because Athena is my favorite goddess -probably could’ve done more for Ares, especially as seeing she’s supposed to be perceptive and a really good judge of character and whatnot 7/10

Daedalus -flinches in fear when Boots says she’s gonna sing a for him, specifically -basically pledges his life to Lizzie in the event the Code Room is attacked so that’s very nice 7/10

Heronian -she’s in a full body cast, but that will not stop her. 8/10

Susannah -can we talk about how she lost both of her siblings and she just keeps trucking along? -REALLY wish we knew more about her -clearly Very Kind. Can you please ask your daughter to be nicer -takes really good care of everyone she comes across :) 8/10

Min -creaky old cockroach dance 9/10

Frill -was cool -taught everyone the marks of secret -taught Hamnet about pacifism and stuff too -I get the feeling she was wayyyyy more important to Hazard and Hamnet and their survival than Gregor’s narrative really dives into 9/10

Mr. Cormaci -nice man. Gave Gregor quarters. 10/10

Gregor’s grandma -cool lady, you can’t deny! -tells Gregor he can’t outrun his issues -has a super cool quilt -who IS Simon??? 10/10

Scalene, Euclidian, Root, Cube, and Newton -felt obligated to include all these kiddos because they are, in fact, named, even though none of them get any dialogue or anything else for that matter, really -Scalene was a little nibbler pup that found her mom in the Arena, Euclidian and Root are two more that the mom was looking for, Newton was one that no one claimed but some other guy was like “any of us will take him” which is :’) but also, so, so sad. -Cube was the pup Luxa named that ended up in the pit in the Firelands -Scalene and Newton survived a genocide and Euclidian which is baller any way you swing it 10/10

Tick -:( :( :( -the selflessness. -I shipped her with Temp when I was 8? I can’t answer for that 10/10

York -LMAOOOO this guy’s a LEGEND -7 ft tall. -fights with a zweihander. -says fuck, canonically. -hosts hundreds of nibbler refugees -very loving uncle to Luxa, helps her learn how to rule - his exasperated affection towards Howard when he finds out Howard stayed in the Firelands even after he got sick was very cute 10/10

Honorable mentions: Perdita and Dulcet Their roles are too big in the last book to be included in this list, but these ladies both get a 10/10.

[hamletandthegang]

Funeral

Hamlet sped down the sidewalk on a rented bicycle. He could see the castle, far ahead of him. His phone had been remarkably quiet, no frantic texts from Horatio or Annalise, or even his mother. Guildenstern and Rosencrantz were probably still in the middle of the English Channel, and Hamlet wondered how long they’d float. That probably sounds sadistic, he thought, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, as he was already nearing the castle. He hoped nothing else had happened since he’d been sent off, it had only been a day, so most likely everything was fine.

He ditched the bike by the row of trees on the lawn and rushed into the castle. It was quiet, and empty of everyone save a few guards stationed here and there. He checked many of the rooms, but after a while gave up and sat down in a chair to catch his breath. Where were they? The castle was rarely quiet, it gave him an eerie feeling that something was very wrong.

He turned his head, and looked out the window. He stood up sharply, spotting the small group of people standing in a field by a bunch of candles set up around… something, he couldn’t tell what.

He rushed out of the room, and down the steps to a door that led him to the hill outside of the castle, and he skirted around the edge towards the group of people, careful not to be seen.

He made his way around to the ridge right next to the large group, and watched them from over the top of it.

It was a small group, composed of the King and Queen, Laertes, Annalise, Horatio, and a few others, completed by a preacher who was speaking from a small book in his hands. He seemed to finish his speech, Hamlet wasn’t close enough to hear what he said, and slowly, people filed by the circle of candles and pictures in a line, each placing a small pink flower into the circle.

Hamlet realized that Ophelia wasn’t there. Laertes, Horatio, and Annalise brought up the rear of the line, but not Ophelia. If it was Polonius’ funeral, she certainly would’ve been there. So it couldn’t be his…

Laertes stopped in front of the candles, and placed his flower on top of the others. “Goodbye, sister,” Hamlet saw him say, and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

At this point, most of the people had left to their various cars and were driving back to the main road, but the close family and friends were staying behind, a group consisting of only the King and Queen, the preacher, Laertes, Horatio, and Annalise.

“I’m sorry!” Laertes’ voice broke sharply as tears began to stream down his face. Horatio’s usually pale face was completely red and blotchy from crying, and Annalise was keeping a calm expression, although her eyes were red from crying the night before. “I loved you, I promise I did,” Laertes whispered and sobbed, and Hamlet felt the rage bubbling up inside of him again.

Before he thought about what he was doing, he had leapt over the ridge and strode over to where Laertes and his friends stood.

Everyone turned and looked at him, shocked to see him back already. “Is she…?” He started, and bent down to see the pictures of Ophelia placed around the candles. He looked up at Horatio, praying he would shake his head, but he only stared back at him sadly. “She can’t be, I was only gone a day. Did she do it?” He added, voice barely audible. Annalise nodded, not daring to open her mouth for fear of breaking down again. Hamlet sat down, realizing what must’ve happened.

Laertes began to sob softly into his hand, and Hamlet looked up at him, disgust written all over his face. Hamlet and Laertes both were hot-headed and impulsive, and Horatio and Annalise looked at each other with concern, wondering whether to separate them or let them go. “How can you even pretend to care?” He asked. “You were terrible to her, you and your father were completely despicable-”

“At least I loved her enough not to kill her father!” Laertes barked, unable to keep his anger at bay. He dove at Hamlet and tackled him to the ground, and punched him near his eye. Annalise shrieked and Horatio ran to get Laertes off of him, but before he could even get near them Hamlet had thrown Laertes off, rolled over, and stood up.

“At least I didn’t manipulate her for her whole life!” Hamlet shouted back as Laertes struggled to his feet, dirty blond hair falling in his face.

“At least you didn’t tell her it was her fault,” Annalise muttered under her breath spitefully, and Hamlet spun around.

“He did what?”

Annalise nodded, expression completely dead as she looked over at Laertes. He dusted himself off and rushed at Hamlet again, full of passion. Hamlet easily dodged him and kicked the side of his knee, sending him to the floor again. Laertes was a fantastic fighter in all things fencing, guns, and even street fighting tactics, but he was completely overwhelmed and driven into a frenzy, and Hamlet had no trouble overpowering him.

The priest and the King grabbed him and hoisted him off the ground, kicking and shouting as Hamlet taunted him. “You were her brother, and a shitty one at that- I loved her more than life itself, I would’ve done anything for her. What did you do? In her hour of need, you didn’t comfort her or even help her!!”

“Shut up!” Laertes shouted, still being held back.

“You did the same to Horatio when you burned down Notre Dame!” Hamlet reminded him, and Horatio looked at him, not wanting to bring that up, but Hamlet kept talking. “You gaslight and manipulate everyone you come into contact with, even your own sister!”

Laertes wrenched himself out of their arms and ran at Hamlet, “You killed my dad! You sick bastard! You’re a murderer!” And threw another punch. Hamlet expected it and dodged, but stumbled backwards when Laertes hit him with a second blow. Then they were on the ground again, and were finally drug away from each other.

Horatio shoved Hamlet back so he wouldn’t try to rush at Laertes again, and Hamlet finally stopped. “Watch your goddamn back, Laertes,” he said as he walked away towards the castle, Horatio and Annalise following him.

Gertrude hurried after him, and Claudius stopped Laertes from following, “You must be patient, I told you that you will get your revenge, if you keep your head and anger down!” he said angrily, and Laertes looked at the ground.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he muttered.

“Oh I’m counting on it,” Claudius smiled. “But there is a time and place for everything, young man, and for now, I want you to go and cool down.” Claudius fished a stack of bills out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Go to the city and stay there, I will call you back when the time is right.”

Laertes looked at him, then sighed and began to walk off towards the parking lot where his car was.

Claudius sighed and went back to the castle.

***

Hamlet sat on the counter by the bathroom sink, as Horatio dabbed at his face with a cloth and Annalise stood behind him watching. His eye was beginning to bruise over from where Laertes had hit him, and both his left eye and the side of his nose and upper cheek were starting to turn purple.

“So, you’re back.” Horatio spoke as he re-wetted the towel he was holding.

“Yeah,” Hamlet said hoarsely.

“Where’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern?” Annalise asked. “I haven’t had a text back from them in a while.” When Hamlet didn’t answer, she asked again. “Hamlet? Where are they?”

“They were going to kill me,” he started, and Horatio put down the towel. “I found the letter. My uncle was sending them with me so they’d kill me when we got to England.”

“What letter?” Horatio asked, getting nervous.

“There was a letter, in the King’s seal, that said I was to be executed the moment the ship got there. Rosencrantz had it in his pocket, he had to have been bribed or something.”

“Did they know about it?”

“How could they not?” Hamlet’s voice began to rise.

“Well, did they read the letter?!” Anna asked exasperatedly.

Hamlet realized that the letter had not previously been opened, it was possible that they hadn’t known…

“I- I don’t know...”

Horatio interrupted him, “Hamlet, where are they right now?”

Hamlet took a breath, and began to explain everything- the boat ride, the pirate attack, his journey back to the southern tip of Denmark, taking a trolley back up to their city, and biking all the way back to the castle, and he finished with a sigh with Horatio and Annalise staring at him.

Anna took a breath, then started, “Hamlet, why can’t you go more than 24 hours without killing someone?” but stopped as her phone buzzed. She opened it to find a message from Marc. It was a picture of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern sitting on a bench in Rosencrantz’ cafe, completely wrapped up in blankets by a fireplace. The message read: “Fished these hyperthermic boys out of the ocean, did y’all lose them?”

“Thank Christ,” Annalise breathed as she bolted out of the bathroom and began to call Marc. Horatio gave Hamlet a look of What the fuck dude? and followed her out.

[bronanlynch]

hamlet, much ado, CORIOLANUS, henry the fifth (guess which one I had to c&p)

tbh I assumed u were just really really excited abt coriolanus which like. valid and mood

HAMLET: Do you have any specific/creative ideas on staging a production of Hamlet?

oh boy do I........ ok first of all I would def borrow some of the set/lighting stuff from the production that I saw a few months ago (the one with ruth negga as hamlet) bc there was a lot of really really cool stuff w doors and silhouettes that I thought was super effective. also extremely a fan of having hamlet played by a woman or a transmasc actor bc like. ok. I don’t think trans!hamlet was necessarily what that production was going for but that’s how it came across to me, a transmasc person like. I’ve seen hamlet played by women in a way that felt like hamlet’s a woman in that version, regardless of how much or little they change the script/pronouns. the ruth negga version was like. oh. hamlet is trans and also even if that wasn’t what they were going for it’s still the only portrayal of a transmasc character that’s ever resonated with me personally. not to get into gender stuff but I very rarely feel like I recognize myself in fictional depictions of trans people but something abt this specific hamlet just. really vibed w me y’know? something about the mannerisms and the costuming and the way his depression isn’t specifically abt his gender stuff but that sure doesn’t help (all the layers of being referred to/referring to himself as unmanly, talking abt hating femininity contrasted w how much this version of hamlet clearly cared abt ophelia+gertrude, another reason for everyone to disapprove of his relationship, etc)

anyway tl;dr my ideal production would make hamlet trans, also I’ve been kinda vaguely considering what the costuming might look like if u set it further back in history like. more like the time that the sources shakespeare was working on were from bc then I could use the stuff I learned for my dissertation abt early medieval clothing for something

also I hate how every single production I’ve ever seen has done ophelia’s ~madness so I wanna do a version where she’s playing the same game hamlet is of like. pretending to ~go mad~ so that ppl won’t see her as a threat except it doesn’t work bc there’s a moment when she’s like. giving out the flowers and too much of her anger comes through at claudius. when she leaves the stage for the last time claudius gestures for one of his guards to follow her out with the implication that he’s having her killed (later, when gertrude comes back to say that she’s dead, so does that guard and claudius nods like. yeah good job u did the thing). also laertes tries to follow ophelia when she leaves but claudius stops him, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t play it like that he can’t just let her go like that

also also if hamlet doesn’t die in horatio’s arms what’s even the point, from a narrative perspective as well as a homoeroticism perspective. also in general horatio needs to be present throughout and like. important? bc too many production neglect horatio but like. he’s the one who makes ppl care abt hamlet anyway I’m gonna stop now before I go into an entire essay

wait no that reminds me of the actual academic essay I did write abt generational conflict in hamlet and why u gotta cast the parent generation as like. obviously older than hamlet’s generation in order to get that across. also bc lots of productions cast hamlet & gertrude closer in age than hamlet & ophelia which. hmmmm. don’t love that

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING: Go off about the best female character.

beatrice muchado is a strong contender but also everyone already loves her so I have less to say that hasn’t already been said, I would be tempted to say viola twelfthnight if I weren’t so firmly on team viola/cesario is trans, I love ophelia a lot but I hate the ~madness scenes, most of my favorite women in shakespeare productions I’ve seen have been women playing male roles like please I would love to talk abt the all-female julius caesar where brutus was a butch lesbian, or like. gwendoline christie as titania in midsummer except titania and oberon’s roles were swapped (which I have mixed feelings about bc the oberon/nick bottom stuff is played as a joke which like. to be fair that’s how titania/bottom is usually done and I know the joke isn’t actually just ‘haha they’re gay’ it’s abt the weird magic shit and the fact that puck and titania are messing with them but. y’know. the experience of being in an audience laughing at two dudes kissing did not make me personally feel great. however I fucking loved pretty much everything else about the production so it balances out to still being the best midsummer I’ve ever seen and also one of the best plays I’ve ever seen full stop)

also best is such a vague and subjective thing like. Idk I love a lot of them for different reasons, y’know? I do think beatrice and maybe juliet are the ones I would say are the best written, gertrude is a close third bc it really depends on how she’s played in any given production but one of my favorite parts of hamlet is in the last scene when she drinks the poison if it’s framed as her knowing exactly what’s going on and daring claudius to stop her and admit his own guilt

CORIOLANUS: Which gay pairing has the most evidence? (Conversely, which pairing do you wish had evidence?)

cesario/viola+orsino is canon send tweet. but really like. usually the cross-dressing heroine changes back into women’s clothing at the end to restore heteronormativity or whatever and I know that viola does say “hey I’m gonna go change” but never actually does and orsino still calls them cesario after that in one of his very last lines so like. I’m just sayin

 brutus and cassius’s deaths are basically the same as romeo and juliet’s, and are therefore also a pyramus and thisbe retelling, in this essay I will

HENRY V: What is the best monologue/soliloquy? in general I’m not that into king lear but edmund’s “now gods, stand up for bastards” monologue is extremely good and sexy, somewhere there’s a recording of riz ahmed doing it that’s just. chef’s kiss

as a hamlet stan my favorite hamlet soliloquy is his first one, the one that starts with “oh that this too too sullied flesh would melt,” and ends with “but break my heart for I must hold my tongue” which not to be a basic bitch but that’s one of my favorite lines in anything ever

also antony’s funeral speech for caesar gets me (almost) every goddamn time. the one singular exception to this was the shakespeare in the park production a few years ago where they were trying to do shallow modern political commentary that really didn’t work and actively undermined the themes of the play

[depootpattyrook-a]

Free.

Description: With just one shot, she was free and she has much to atone for. Starting with her family. The Deputy was back....and another chapter is opening. 

Be sure to reblog!

@red-king-4 @oh-the-bliss @lovely-murderous-innerbeast @max-amber @masterhuntressjessblack

There is only the justice of Gods hand. End this vicious cycle....Give me God’s justice.....Release me.....

And with that one fatal shot to the chest, it was finished before the former Deputy’s eyes and it was a relief. Joseph Seed was gone and slain by the hands of her niece who is wearing her old outfit from before, karma at its finest. The body of the cult leader falls on the ground as Patty knows the spirits of Whitehorse, Hudson, and Pratt alongside every other victim of Project At Eden’s Gate can rest easy now....it was all over. The former Judge looks at the burning tree with her niece then kneels in front of Joseph with tears in her eyes knowing it was all over....she was free.

Max sadly looks at the supposed shell of her former shell of her aunt seeing that she’s far too gone now but those tears weren’t for Joseph, they were tears of victory and she was victorious indeed. It was only for a few seconds before the deputy gets up and leave the burning tree of Eden while heading down never looking back as Max looks back then looks ahead and walks with her aunt. It was a silent trek down with Max not knowing what’s going through her head assuming it’s sadness but it was more like resisting the urge to dance....

The bar at Roughneck Craig is packed of the Guns For Hire as Max Caulfield sits on a stool drinking some scotch. Her head still hurts from all of the outpost liberating, expeditions, and so much more because of her powers. But it was a victory after all, a Pyrrhic victory at that. New Eden is in ashes with many homeless but are finding homes in Prosperity, the Highwaymen still at large but no longer a threat, yet her aunt is still stuck in the prison that is her mind plus Max has gotta get back to California or send a message telling them what happened to Rush. She wishes pastor Jerome was here so she can talk to him but he’s gone doing a prayer service with the New Edeners. Carmina sits beside Max causing her to turn around.

“Something the matter? You haven’t talked since you got here. Don’t try to hide it, there’s lots of smiles in this place and you stand out among them.” Carmina spoke grabbing Max’s attention. She could always just rewind again but she had to be honest with herself and Max is always open to her emotions. The Irish-American sighs to Carmina....

“I know we should be happy and all. We’ve been through so much....yet this doesn’t feel like a victory. Everything is over and done with....yet it feels hallow.” Max replied to Carmina while taking a sip.

“I know what you’re thinking of: The Judge. Listen, I know she’s been through a lot and you thought slaying Joseph Seed would work. It takes time to recover, to heal. I’m sure she’ll get around.” Carmina advised while Max lowers her eyes looking at the reflection at herself in the glass.

“The last time I spoke to her was when I was thirteen years old and she yelled at me.” To that comment, Carmina Rye loaded her assault rifle.

“Excuse me, I’m gonna find her.” Carmina bluntly announced but Max gently grabs her shoulder and pushes her back to her seat.

“It was justified. Very justified....A friend who would turn out to be my wife’s father died, she was broken and I left her in the middle of it. Patty was waiting in Seattle to help us unpack with her friends Pratt and Hudson, she talked to me in private....and I told her everything. An argument broke out between my mom, dad, and I got wrapped in it....she called us cowards saying that we abandoned her and her mom with my mom slapping her in the process while her friends held her back then telling her to leave. I started crying not because she was being mean....but she was right....” Max begins to tear up with her face turning red.

“I abandoned my friend and when I returned, it was the greatest weeks of my life to the point I married her. But she wasn’t there....maybe she hated me and cut off all ties with the family. She did shoot me a letter with a congratulations text on a card before going to do a raid on Seed. I just didn’t know....she would here....I thought she died in the Collapse.....but it turns out I was wrong....and I don’t know if I have the courage to talk to her.....” She begins to sob while Carmina’s eyes widen in confusion then lower in understanding then hugs the crying captain. Nana peers through the entrance upon hearing what happened while adjusting her glasses alongside Gina, Timber, Horatio and Hurk.

“Hey Max, I just wanna know: We’re with you.” Gina assured while Timber cuddles against her leg alongside Horatio.

Pastor Jerome places a cross on what used to be the settlement known as New Eden while the remaining residents stand beside him singing Amazing Grace as he walks to find some bodies to bury. This was his new flock after all and they needed him the most right now....he stops at the Judge’s house hoping she’d be there. The house is full of essentials like a fireplace she made for herself and table....yet something catches his eyes: A broken bow on the ground. He tilts his head at the sight but even more is a broken mask. Jerome kneels and touches the remains for a moment before realizing what this means....he shakes his head while smiling.

“......Welcome back Deputy.” He whispered.

Max fires her silenced SA-50 sniper rifle at the target with Nana who smiles at the pseudo-deputy who has taken her aunt’s place. Gina on the other hand is busy smoking but spots someone walking up to them, it’s a woman with grey-ish black hair with a pony tail wearing an alley rat jacket and pants from that stolen suit Max got from that crashed paladin. On her back is a sniper rifle just like Max except it’s an MB-50. Gina has never seen this woman before and she looks like trouble.

“What do you want?” Gina asks the woman who looks around while she smiles. That goofy smirk of hers reminds her of Hurk for a moment alongside an aura of familiarity....The woman leans over behind Gina then places her hands on her hips.

“I see Hurk chose wisely just like I did. Maybe it’s because we’re into the bad girls ya’know?” She said causing Gina to grip her machine but realizes she knows Hurk from out of nowhere. Gina remembers how Hurk and the Deputy aka Patty would hangout with a hooded chick named Jess Black all the time and implied to have had sex.

“Wait a minute....you’re.....” Hurk walks from behind carrying a glass of scotch but pauses for a moment before having a mischievous smile on his face before turning to Max who is reloading for a moment.

“Hey Max, you gotta visitor. Said she knows you! A lot!” The redneck called causing Max to turn around. The brunette walks over while the black haired woman crosses her arms and smiles at her causing Max to pause for a moment. She walks in front of her and stops....

“Annnnd.....hug. Like seriously, hug it out now.” Hurk implored while Nana looks at Hurk confused but realizes who it is.

“If you two don’t hug then I swear I’ll glue you both together!” Nana chimed before Max grabs her and holds her close with tears in her eyes. The black haired woman is caught off guard for a moment then returns the hug and smiles....

“Welcome back, aunt Patty....” Max croaked before Patty shushes her and caresses the back of her hair.

“Hey it’s okay, it’s okay. I was always here, I waited for the right time otherwise the Highwaymen would find out....but I’m here. Always was and always will be.” Patty assured while holding her tight and sniffs. Walking behind her is a blonde woman with grey streaks and a worn out jacket and bow on her back.

“Oh damn Jess Black! Out of nowhere!” Hurk saw causing Jess to roll her eyes for a moment.

“It’s Jess Caulfield now. I’ll explain it later but for now, let’s enjoy the moment.” Jess sighed looking at her fiance and her niece-in-law. Jerome arrives on his sidecar and walks up the hill to the bar and opens his mouth with the intent to find out where the Judge is but standing before him wasn’t the Judge. He closes his mouth knowing the Judge was gone and standing before him is the Deputy who saved their town years ago with the only family she has left.....

And she was free.

[8147]

reading hamlet for the first time (act 5: the finale)

masterlist

none of you told me it was going to be this painful . none of you.

a5s1

“Ophelia’s dead.” “Enter CLOWNS!”

Like im sure this has a different meaning in EMA but im gonna make fun of it because it’s fucking hilarious. (future (present? (now past once more (?))) antares coming back to say i did look at nfs and yeah theyre gravediggers)

“First Clown: What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown: The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.” damn not even just this one quote but these are some depressing clowns

hamlet and horatio!

okay there’s something about all of hamlet’s skull talk that makes me uneasy. like, not even the topic, just something in the words and how earnestly and (pardon my pun) gravely hamlet’s speaking about this. and it’s almost a mournful tune, too. it’s a huge difference from his “we’ll all be eaten by the same worms” speech to the point that it’s almost haunting.

“HAMLET: I will speak to this fellow.” C O N F R O N T

“HAMLET: I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.” (incomprehensible scribbling)

HAMLET, NOT IN ENGLAND: oh yeah lol he was sent to england huh u know why lmao

wait. did the. did the pirate situation get resolved. before act V.

I mean i think hamlet mentioned something about three years but the pirates are so fucking glossed over like what the fuck

“First Clown: 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.” HOLY SHIT ROAST THEM JFC

“HAMLET: Let me see. (Takes the skull)” THIS IS THE SKULL SCENE! I fucking KNEW it was bullshit that holding the skull was in the to be/not to be speech. I saw it being presented as such like once or twice while reading and I KNEW IT

hm okay so hamlet picks up this guys skull, of someone he used to know, and sure maybe i could ignore the “those lips i have kissed” but then he goes on to mention alexander the great and i mean come on

but jesus like i feel like im not doing justice to the stuff hamlet’s saying. just, the gravity of it all. Its kinda hitting home a bit hard bc like ive had a crippling fear of what happens after death and being forgotten etc since i was like in fourth grade and this is @ing that phobia

like, with that julius ceasar thing. “O that that earth which kept the world in awe / should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw,” it’s so strange. like, every fucking human who has lived, whether they be emperors, murderers, inventors, peasants, or philanthropists- as long as they weren’t blind, they’ve all looked at the same sky. like. It doesnt matter what the fuck you did or didn’t. It’s wild.

“First Priest: No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.” hey i get that there are cultural taboos around suicide but like this guy’s a dick it isnt even clear if it was suicide, like, she was so fucking crazy she might not have even known she was, y’know, in a lake or w/e

laertes, dude, my guy. maybe jumping into a grave is cosmic foreshadowing for something you don’t want to happen to you. js.

“HAMLET: [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave)” hamlet is NOT one to be out-extra’d (posting-antares here to say, wait, ‘whose phrase of sorrow conjures the stars? is this my aesthetic-speeches-summon-ghosts theory? probably not, but i havent mentioned it for a while)

“LAERTES: The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him)” IN A FUCKING GRAVE. THEY ARE FIGHTING. IN A GRAVE.

all because hamlet doesn’t want to be out-extra’d. my god.

“QUEEN GERTRUDE: This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.” Ah yes gertie just talk about the distraught and angry madman as if he isn’t there. that’ll diffuse the situation.

You know what? We still haven’t discussed the pirates.

a5s2

“HAMLET: So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?” If this isn’t gonna be about the pirates im gonna. scream.

“HAMLET: My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.” god, though. imagine that. being exiled to another country by the person who killed your father, only to find out that they were going to have you killed, anyways. that’s fucking terrifying. jesus christ.

Damn this idea that pretty handwriting is ~beneath~ nobles confuses me so fucking much. I got called haughty once just because my main handwriting is cursive. I mean, they were right, but their evidence was circumstantial at best.

“HAMLET: That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd.” Hamlet’s Revenge. 

but also, what the fuck, dude. two wrongs dont make a right.

damn i kinda lost myself while reading but it really doesn’t sound like hamlet’s insane anymore. Like he’s… tempered himself. he doesn’t feel insane, just solemn.

“OSRIC: Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?” goddamn ROAST HIM HAMLET (also what a fucking mood)

Osric put on your fucking ha--

The wind is

The wind is northerly

“HAMLET: No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.” I remember someone saying that this is important

Okay here: “HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

oh no

Osric just wear ur fucking hat u doof

“OSRIC: Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET: I beseech you, remember-- (HAMLET moves him to put on his hat)” excuse me a WAGER

but alas all hamlet cares about is osric’s fucking hat

“HAMLET: What's his weapon? OSRIC: Rapier and dagger. HAMLET: That's two of his weapons: but, well.” hamlet u sarcastic little shit i love you

I mean so is horatio. I love him too.

This stuff with the competition is. not gonna end well. not at well.

“HAMLET: I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.”

hamlet no. listen to your heart or whatever. jesus christ don’t do it.

“HORATIO: Nay, good my lord,--” HAMLET LISTEN TO HORATIO

Ohhh hamlet

okay reading what laertes said, you know what? i’m giving laertes one last chance. please do not prove me a fool, laertes. 

everything is giving me mad anxiety. e v e r y t h i n g.

claud’s speech is insanely sketchy

“KING CLAUDIUS: [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.” One, so that’s why it was sketchy. Two, the POISONED CUP?

IT’S TOO LATE?

Gertie’s. Dead.

Shit, shit, shit

“LAERTES: [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.” YES! SO PLEASE! STOP FIGHTING!

“LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES.” Oh no oh no oh jeez eheu they’re hurting each other, shit, fuck,

“LAERTES: ...woodcock…”

“KING CLAUDIUS: She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE: No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. (Dies)” one, i love how claud is desperatley trying to stick to the plan, its almost adorable in a childish sort of way. two, oh god. ohhh god. gertie. 

Oh no. 

this is the bloodbath. THIS IS THE BLOODBATH.

BODY COUNT: 1

“HAMLET: The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs KING CLAUDIUS)” ...

BODY COUNT: 2

wait and hamlet’s on death row, as with laertes. Oh no.

“LAERTES: He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies)’ oh my god already??? I haven’t even really accepted king claud’s death?? jesus christ??

My friend just sorta nudged me and asked if i was alright and i. I’m not. i’m in shock. goddamn. what?

BODY COUNT: 3

goodness thats three in like less than thirty seconds JESUS CHRIST

“HAMLET: Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.I am dead, Horatio.” that’s chilling. just, the poignancy. that’s so fucking spectral. i’m not okay.

“HORATIO: Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.” No no no on no nononon NO NO oh my god are you going to-

“HAMLET: As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. … If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.” hey i’m crying in study hall. i’m actually crying. what the fuck. I don’t cry unless i’m thinking about that one pair of 18th century shoes with the really good photo quality (transcribing-antares here. I fucking love those shoes. I’m looking at them right now and they’re so fucking beautiful. they look how velvet feels, which is odd, bc they're apparently silk. I don’t care they’re just so fucking lovely)

F O R T I N B R A S?

“HAMLET: O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit.” I’ve identified my emotion. Dread. pure, unadulterated Dread.

for all of you that’ve listened to the penumbra podcast: do you remember the concierge, right before final resting place, saying “you do realize you can just like, leave, and everything will be hunky dory and you won’t have to deal with the emotional consequences this episode will bring you” because i’m seriously considering doing that right now.

“HAMLET: The rest is silence. (Dies)” shit. (posting-antares here to say that i forgot to do the body count but honestly im crying while formating because of this goddamn fucking 400 year old play)

“HORATIO: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince…” oh god. horatio.

“Good night sweet prince…”

(yet again tis transcribing-antares here to say that im fucking sobbing right now, the shoes are no match for this, and ‘goodnight sweet prince’ is actually never going to leave my head.) (editing-antares here to say im fucking crying again god fucking damn it) (posting-antares back again saying that this fucking line. this line. my god.)

“HORATIO: What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.” oh, horatio. god. that isn’t something said without tears staining your skin and a bitter tone hard-won, not that its possession is a victory.

oh my god. this can’t. no. this can’t end like this. What. no. people must have rioted. No. no!!

i typically hate it but i would GLADLY accept a deus ex machina right about now!!

okay my friend just took my phone away from me and shut it off because i kept on trying to scroll past the end

jesus christ

okay so i’m not going to be okay for like, several eternities, so im going to play the sims until i. until i die, probably. my god.

masterlist

[dancingarchitect]

There have been times when I’ve wondered if Black Thought should be in the running for #goat emcee. This video is one of those times. My friend and colleague, drummer Morgan Childs, actually transcribed these amazing rhymes: Uh I’m sorry for your loss it’s somebody dead in a car and it’s probably one of yours The writin’ all across the window and the walls Whether it was true or false We shouldn’t have got involved Remember We walked past the teacher take the chalk and laugh We wrote punishments “I will not talk in class” Now it’s pistols punishing people for talking fast And all these innocent bystanders is haulin’ ass I hate to say “I told y’all” but I told y’all Things fall apart when the center to weak to hold y’all I’m just collecting what you owe to my owe jar You ‘bout to get swooped down on and stoled on Fools swear they wise, wise men know they foolish but we was headed for the web even before computers I never thought you’d give me a reason to do this Cain and Abel Jesus and Judas Caesar and Brutus I see intruders avert yer eyes I told you keep out of the hood Circumcise How could you sleep, I thought you always was the first to rise Eyo you heard the line Errybody plays the fool Well I be that exception to the rule The principal that hand deliver lessons to the school I was makin’ major moves My dollar déjà vu My mission when my ambition was brandishin’ the tool to be an icon wearin’ slippers made of python Get mine quicker ‘cause I’m slick as a pipeline Transportin’ the oil tribulation and toil hit the operation but I’m back in the soil Got my crown tilted, my gown quilted silk with cashmere burn the room down in a minute, built it last year Newsflash, I dodged the bullet that killed the cashier My homie told me to come with him to the masthead Them brothers said don’t go from written bars filled with rage to prime time television and your gilded cage Then forget there’s people in the world still enslaved I bar white at my wrist, and let it fill the page Gunfire and flare Sirens glare I’m in an iron chair with people who care don’t get the lion’s share When I don’t give a fuck then I ain’t fair I’m on a higher table people getting’ money like the finest hair Catch the herald I’m fresh chopped and beveled rap on a doctorate level so F Scott Fitzgerald Maybe I’m the new Rakim Maybe I’m Fab Pharoah Undergarments are armor be my intimate apparel Pre-Kardashian Kanye My rhyme play immaculate Same cadence as D.O.C. pre-accident Maybe my acumen is on par with Gucci rappin’ and gimme the proper respect motherfucker we back again For a couple things we lost in a fire the drive and desire to perform on a higher plateau I make that show lost in a mire Wondering how we got so far from inspired Look, when photos were sepia toned and record players were something you would keep in your home Yo the traveller the meanin’ Tariq he was known For the exemplary performance, uniquely his own I made the 21 pound for some a newfound religion When money’s put down there’s only one sound to make OGs and young lions equally proud to listen To seek what amalgam-ism an algorithm comin’ from where only kings and crowns permitted to darkness Where archaeologists found my image in parchment rolled into a scroll holdin’ a message for you It said the only thing fo sho is taxes death and trouble The anomaly, sworn solemnly high snobbery Freakinomics and war policy dichotomy That’s Heaven and Hades Tigris and Euphrates His highness, the apple of the iris to you ladies As babies we went from simolac to infomill to the internet and fentanyl when our consent was still against the will I got that detox for y’all The microphone doctor black Deepak Chopra I’m a griot that make you want to peacock your arm every heavy dignitary payin’ me top regards boy I’m three octaves far from the bi noc ulars so the smart money feelin’ get the heat out the car yo I’m K dot Lamar meets Tupac Shakur Got profiled by a few cops too hot to charge, listen somebody said a price tag was on a rapper’s head so we gonna see a nice bag when a rapper dead the mast black the flag green black and red they probably wave a white flag out the prasma shed (?) no doubt Yo the Game went they own route I can’t explain what these lame kids is talmbout Or how they fit they whole foot into their own mouth I put a couple bodies in a brown bag then I’m en route I’m sneaker shoppin’ with my stuntas size 8 prior to they release, cuz why wait? Look, in my state I got electrified gates for these blasé gods hatin’ at a high rate ‘cause I dodged fate then got great to fly straight if we ain’t family or friends then we don’t vibrate and I’m that Gun in yah face none of y’all safe If I catch you at the right time in the wrong place Slippin’ Sipping on somethin’ with a strong taste Like whiskey or bootleg bourbon with a corn base (Malavine?) take resemble a vehicular threat The mic I spray resemblin’ a sickle of death It ain’t strenuous to come from a continuous breath I set fire to the venue Imma spin you in step Rinse repeat You checkin’ for the sound of the beats I’m the hound I’m a creep I get down Imma eat Imma keep sumpin’ and lay a naysayer to sleep playin’ wit heat nobody and nothin’ fucking with ‘Riq yo these weaklings is claiming they cutting up in the streets Nigga peace You ain’t workin’ with nuttin’ but the police, listen you ain’t feelin’ to be nothin’ but the deceased, listen you in the tournament with a permanent crease I strike fear in the hearts of rap figures who mind bears the stigmas of time no black privilege From Boom Bap niggas To trap niggas you in the trap wit us When the lines is as vivid as the walls on that grab all the graph by the law to rap I reside between the seconds on the chronograph How much more CB4 can we afford? It’s like a sharia law On My Cherie Amour How much hypocrisy can people possibly adore? But ain’t nobody workin’ on a cure? My young boy Y’all just regular I’m an apex predator Brim stay fresh feathered up etcetera nevertheless I got a message of love One day a messenger yo my pen is Henry Kissinger Buzz Bissinger, look My caporegime Mr Noradeen and my oldest son Amin Saleem outta New Orleans Took a golf cart to the baccarat From the Waldorf What was on the walls? That depend on what you call art Imma say 300 k ain’t even in the ballpark I charge more just for awkward small talk So yes Who’s fuckin’ with it if it’s not the best? I get the lobby painted fresh upon my request It’s Kafkaesque His holiness stop the press that cobalt blue Reminiscing on my caress Lord, we got Padma Lakshmi for you Let her massage the back with black seed oil The foundation is firm, the flags need soil Me, I need royalty because I bleed royal Go through the veins to the brain fabulous and strange My journalistic range is a catalyst for change They got anybody to listen pissin’ flames and ‘cause the Hall of Fame got so many missin’ names I’ll acknowledge the original peoples not Oliver Y’all will the get the next challenger for Excalibur Um… more police for my core beliefs They tried to capture me and brand me on the cheek with a fleur de lis that side of my heart’ll be more discrete I’m international, my passport pages like War and Peace I’ve always played my part From the start Back in Philly where the triggers is mandatory to spark With the slightest inflammatory remark I have you in a livin’ a category apart, listen A grain of salt’ll tip the scales It never fails Walk on eggshells sleep on a bed of nails Criminal records like record sales Makin’ heads or tails we like Henrietta (L)acks Up in the cells My mother was a working class very loving woman who struggled, every dinner could have been her last supper (summer?) I come home chasin’ good for nothin’ half cousins and then walk in the crib to the smell of crack cookin’ she was introduced to that substance abuse or some of the strongest drugs that the gov’ment produced look, I even got excused by the principal My story is out of the dub dub interview I seen some ice cold summers, hot winters too I never thought I’d win Grammy awards with the Roots I never thought I would be getting’ long in the tooth My OGs told me “boy, you better go and live your truth” I am a walking affirmation That imagination and focus and patience gets you closer to your aspiration and just cuz they give you shit don’t mean you have to take it My words capture greatness sworn affidavits Yours truly the celestial being You stay seein’ pulling up in a fresh European High steppin out of it dressed to a T And not another got more soul, unless you Korean (!!!!) I’ve been Havin’ visions of Nat Turner holdin’ his master’s head like Yoric and Horatio in Hamlet Smackin’ it like a tennis racquet underhanded Send a message to the gram the eagle has landed Dressed in a military jacket made of canvass I am no guerilla/gorilla I just make ‘em go bananas I stand and wear black and green bandanas cocked hammers hairs on my chin is outstandings Can’t manage the weight of the world is just how I ball it Look, I’ve fallen from the sky to see my calling I’m not crawling I’m a free man like Morgan Seein’ manhood in the hood’s a damn good bargain If every black man don’t tap dance and every girl that got a fat booty don’t lap dance well I guess it’s something wrong, huh Niggas completely uninformed I don’t burn bridges, yo, I keep the haters round to fall I ain’t one of y’all peers I’m the sum of all fears Somebody stronger than me, who that? I mar ears like Obama I wish he had another four years Y’all some jolly good Hollywood squares I’m like “ahem” approach the author witcha offering I smoke rappers writin’ like my only offspring Being his excellency is to be exhausting You in the residency, you’re the one they call King Dolla Ali Baba the talented Mr Trotter Inside of my right palm the marker to stick My the big papa wig chopper Enter the Jaffe Jocker mawfucker I’m stronger than the coffee out in Kaffa All y’all make his vagina hot remind me of my kinda pop I step into the booth I’m a bull inside a china shop Mollywhopper washin’ of a cotton pickin body drop Every time we rock, yo they actin’ like it’s Mardi Gras Til the party stop ‘sgirl was like she there for rory gel (the fuck?) So we saw you pumpin’ that Earth Wind and Fire body ya Cool the Prada Dakar la Merino hard body up You seen another rapper cleaner, mami prolly not How it feel to be the best that did it I’ll admit it I’m visiting from planet bring these niggas down for minutes And y’all know I’m exquisite Wicked as Wilson Pickett The sickness I exhibit I’m too legit to quit it I don’t fake it til I make it, I take it to the limit and break it Never tentative when I’m bad I represent it A feeling just like chases Been a million places Conversation is how beautiful my face is People hated on how sophisticated my taste is Then I pulled up on these motherfuckers in a spaceship Panther mind I’m made of elements you can’t combine I’m at a level of intelligence you can’t define Einstein, Shakespeare, Voltaire, Tesla Recording artist slash psychology professor I preach for the east Never fold under pressure The beast from the east and I glide like Clyde Drexler Eyo my new name is Eighty Five Exes cause I’m the rap game certified specialist When I was reckless I was worried ‘bout the guest list I’m helpin’ rappers everywhere fulfill a death wish Yo Flex, I’m glad we made contact My nigga also know, this shit for combat Brain matta contain too much data I tell a story like fingerprints and blood splatter

[tragicdanishlesbians]

TDL Prompts Hamlet

I started working on my promptbook for my dream production of Hamlet and it’s going really great so far. Here’s what’s happened so far:

Act 1

Changing all of the pronouns and addresses for Hamlet & Horatio to fit my “Hamlet and Horatio are girlfriends” agenda

Nat King Cole is here. Why is he here. I dunno. (He’s not actually here but L-O-V-E is)

“But now, my cousin Hamlet” to a bit of the “Seems, madam?” speech is attempted to be private but Hamlet gets upset and makes a scene. Claudius is not happy about it.

“We pray you...as of a father” is also made private and pretty much a threat (but very subtle)

I went with “sullied” flesh because of reasons

Horatio hugging Hamlet and spinning her around

Hamlet not even noticing Marcellus nor Bernardo were there

Oh yeah, I gave Bernardo more stage time because I love him for literally no reason

Hamlet wanting to tell Horatio she likes her but settling for “farewell”

Laertes and Ophelia teasing each other and being Cute Siblings(tm)

Horatio giving Hamlet her coat 

HAMLET CALLING HAMLET SR. “PAPA” AND ME CRYING

Hamlet Sr. touching Hamlet shoulder, her realizing contact is possible, them hugging, her crying, me crying

Just a very emotional and raw delivery of “O villain, villain, smiling damned villain!” (and probably me still crying)

Just...what she uses as her “tables”...its a lot

Obviously I went with “our philosophy” who do you think I am

Horatio seeing what Hamlet did. Hamlet being annoyed Horatio’s gonna fuss over her, but more like a “i love you so much stop caring about me”

Act II

Reynaldo just wanting to leave

“Polonius (acting as if this is literally the best plan ever)”

“Reynaldo (knowing that this is not literally the best plan ever)”

The very intense half dumb show that occurs while Ophelia describes the incident with Hamlet

Guildenstern is a twink

Rosencrantz is that girl that only wears vineyard vines

I gave up on making my stage directions sound professional

A weird development that it was actually Polonius who wrote the letter than Hamlet “wrote” --the characters don’t know this for sure but hey I’m sticking with that on a personal note

The exchange between Hamlet and Polonius is one of my favorites even before I wrote this

Hamlet fucking with him on the “words, words, words” line

“My excellent good friends!” is a sarcastic aside

The “oh shit” moment Roz and Guil have when Hamlet asks why they’re there

Hamlet quickly adding “nor no woman either” because she doesn’t want to let on that she’s Gay(tm) to these two

Roz picking up on it anyway and laughing. Hamlet being PISSED. Roz covering it up with “THE ACTORS”

Hamlet shushing Polonius

Her last speech just being so good. Fuck Claudius.

I’ll start Act III tomorrow

[nemoofoz-blog]

"Hamlet As Told On The Streets" by Shel Silverstein

Now Francisco and Bernardo, they was guardin’ the castle, Leanin’ on their spears, not lookin’ for no hassle, Havin’ themselves a brew or two, When out in the night they hear woo-wooo-wooo. And here comes this ghost, lookin’ ragged and rank, In a rusty suit of armor, goin’ clank, clank, clank. They say, "Hey, Mr. Ghost, are you our dear departed king?" But the ghost don’t say one motherfuckin’ thing. He goes, "Wooo-wooo-wooo." They say, "Hey, we better split, And go tell Hamlet about this shit." So they run find Hamlet, they say, "Hey, sweet Prince, Your daddy’s ghost been seen runnin’ hither and hince. He’s all full of maggots and he’s grizzly and grim, Somethin’s rotten in Denmark and -- whew -- we think it’s him." Hamlet say, "Oh, are you sure it’s my pop? Did he have matty gray hair with a bald spot on top? Did he have bright blue eyes that never know fear And a tattoo says GERTRUDE FOREVER right here?" They say, "Hey, the thing just flittered by our station, We didn’t give him no physical examination. And we don’t know for sure if your daddy was the one, But we do know a motherfuckin’ ghost when we see one." Hamlet say, "Show me where you spied this spectral klunk So I see if it’s my pop, or if you was both drunk." So they bring ol’ Hamlet to the spot, and then They wait five minutes and wooooo --- Here he comes again. He got gray skin, black teeth and hollow eyes, Beckonin’ like this -- young Hamlet cries, "Hold, spirit of darness, are you a ghostly apparition?" "No," says the ghost, "I look like this from malnutrition. Of course I’m a ghost, but sone, don’t be scared, And I’ll tell you some shit that’ll fry your hair." He says, "You got two relatives, I won’t say which, But one’s a bloody murderer and one’s a faithless bitch. Why, I was takin’ a nap in the garden right here, When my ambitious brother pours some poison in my ear. And before my body’s even cold he’s wearin’ my pajamas, Layin’ up in my bed with my crown on his head, Doin’ somethin’ sinful to your momma. And the terrible thoughts of what they’re doin’ up there Is more than a poor old ghost can bear. So you gotta revenge me on this harlot and this knave Or else I’ll never rest in my motherfuckin’ grave." Well, this information just flips Hamlet out. He starts walkin’ like this, with spit hangin’ out his mouth. His eyes are all bleary and his tongue looks worse, And he’s talkin’ in couplets and blank fuckin’ verse. I mean the dude is indecisive, He don’t know how he’d like his eggs, And he’s got no opinion on tits, ass or legs. He can’t decide which horse to play at the track, And when they ask him what suit you wanna wear today? He say, "Ah…um…gimme the black." He calls his uncle a murderer, Calls his momma a whore, And he can’t get it up for Ophelia no more. Oh, and Ophelia? She’s tryin’ her best To make him feel better, Wants to polish his crown jewels, But he won’t let her. "Stead of sayin’ yea, the fool says nay, And the whole court’s figurin’ he must be gay. Well, then in come Hamlet’s oldest friends, Rosenstern and Guildencrantz, They say, "Hey there, Ham, you gloomy Gus, Get up – get down – and party with us. We brought you some actors, Some tunes and some lyrics To put on a play to boost up your spirits." Hamlet says, "Hey – songs and skits, That gives me an idea that could stir up some shit. We’ll put on a play – "N" that could be just the thing To catch the conscience of the king, If there is a conscience in the motherfuckin’ king." So Hamlet calls all the actors, he say, "’Fore this drama starts, I’m gonna tell you suckers how to play your parts. You gotta speak the speech like I pronounced it – Don’t rush it, don’t milk it, don’t drag it, don’t bounce it. I mean, do it trippingly on the tongue, Or else I’ll see your thespian asses strung up and hung. And don’t saw the air with your hands flappin’ wild, "N’ don’t go mouthin’ my words in some method style." Then the lead actor says, "Hey – are we alive? Or just some talking meat that’s gotta listen to this jive? I have read this thing you call a script And it ain’t too bad, it’s got a few little dips. But with some new dialogue and a few minor edits – Hey, do you mind sharing writer credits? But this part about the king? -- poisoning his brother? I play this wile the real king’s watchin’? Sittin’ with your mother? You must be out of your cotton-pickin’ mind. He’ll cut out my tongue, he’ll gouge out my eyes, He’ll boil me in oil and send me to hell." Hamlet says, "How about double scale?" – The actor says, "Well… "I want my name above the title, three percent of the gross, I want that tall brunette as my dialogue coach. I want approval of director and a juicy per diem, And if there’s changes in the script, I got to see ‘em. I want a dresser, and undresser and a hairdresser, too, And I gotta-gotta-gotta have the biggest dressing room. I want an escape clause that lets me out in a month, And the first thing I insist is that you fire that cunt. I want transportation to and from every show, I want complimentary tickets for everybody I know. I want my brother and my cousin hired to play in the band, And don’t go tryin’ to sneak in any extra matinees. And next time you wanna speak to me, Check with the director first. Now will you please go away and let us rehearse?" So Hamlet slinks off, lookin’ for a backer, Mutterin’ how he’ll never ever talk to another fuckin’ actor. And him and Horatio, they walk down a ways, Till they see some clown diggin’ a mouldy grave. Hamlet picks up a skull, he says, "Who was this sucker?" They say, "Yorick." He says, "Yorick? I knew the motherfucker. He used to be court jester. Hey, Yorick, show us how You used to make them funny faces – Why ain’t you laughin’ now? I’ve kissed these lips, I know not how oft." And Horatio quips, "Hey, let’s not announce how oft you kissed them lips. I mean people already talkin’ ‘bout the way you walk, And the fact that you ain’t givin’ Ophelia no nook." Oh, and speakin’ of Ophelia – Polonius, her daddy, Says, "Hey, that prince is drivin’ my little girl batty. Got her runnin’ all night and sleepin’ till noon, God knows what else he got her doin’. But he’s our royal prince, lord of earth, sky and water, But he’s also a horny little pimply-faced shithead Trying to hump my daughter." So Polonius calls Ophelia and says, "Listen, darlin’ daughter, I hope you and Ham ain’t doin’ things you shouldn’t oughter, ‘Cause you let ‘em touch an ankle and they wanna grab a knee, And they never buy nothin’ that you let ‘em have for free." Ophelia says, "Hey, Pop, I know the score, You think I wanna wind up another palace whore? I got the dud sendin’ me letters and babblin’ ‘bout the moon, I really do think his bells are out of tune." "Well, don’t you go dingin’ his bells," says Polonius, "’Cause if he throws you in the grass, I’ll get your big brother Laertes to kick his royal ass." Now Laertes overhears his name bein’ bandied about, He says, "Hey, Pop, you signin’ my ass up for somethin’ My head don’t know about?" Plonius says, "Son, it’s Hamlet, that loony tune, Been fed all his life with a silver spoon. He’s in my face and on my neck, I mean the dude ain’t playin’ with a full damn deck. He’s bumblin’ around twirlin’ his crown, And callin’ me a fishmonger all over town. And he’s charmed your baby sister with his rhymes and his riddles. Hey, you think she’s puttin’ on a little weight around the middle?" Laertes says, "Hey, Pop, she ain’t no baby, She got a set of jugs tha’d drive any prince crazy. Now that’s just a natural fact and not lust or incest, And if she shakes ‘em right, she could be a princess." "That’s right," says Ophelia. "That’s my scheme, And the way kings been dyin’ ‘round here, I could wind up queen." "Enough," says Polonius. "That Pince has ruined my day. Now we gotta see his fuckin’ play within a play. Hell, the place’ll be drafty, the seats won’t be com’fa’ble, I wouldn’t go at all but these tickets ain’t refundable. Prob’ly full of symbolism, I won’t understand it, Shit, I hope it rains and all the critics pan it." So they go to the play and everybody’s there. They got diamonds on their doublets, They got ribbons in their hair. Lords, ladies, dogs, babies, all in attendance, The marquee says MURDER, DECEIT AND VENGEANCE. ONE OF YEAR’S TEN BEST. DO NOT MISS IT. So everybody figures it’s another piece of shit. And they’re bitchin’ ‘bout their seats, buckin’ the line, Scalpin’ tickets and sippin’ wine, Rattlin’ their programs, twistin’ in their chairs, Tryin’ to catch if any celebrities are there. Then the play begins – and ooh, looky here – It shows the king puttin’ poison in his brother’s ear. And King Claudius is watchin’, and -- ooh -- is he pissed. He says, "I know who’s responsible for this." He calls, "Hey Gertie, come here, hon. What the hell’s the matter with your jive-ass son? I give the kid room, board ‘n’ remedial education, And he calls me a murderer, and other wild accusations. Hell, I’d sue him for libel for implyin’ that shit. But the libel laws ain’t been invented yet. Just ‘cause I’m bangin’ you, he’s givin’ me hell, I think he wants to hump you his own damn self." Queen Gertrude says, "I think he’s goin’ through An Oedipal rejection, seein’ his uncle Replace his father in his momma’s affection." "Oedipal?" says the king. "The punk is givin’ me some shit. I’ll send him where I sent his pop if he don’t quit. So you tell him it’s better to leave some things unsaid, Or he’ll be puttin’ on his crown without his motherfuckin’ head." So the queen runs to Hamlet, she says, "Oh listen, son, Y’better suck up to the king before some foul deed gets done. It’s true he wears black socks and Hawaiian shirts, But that ain’t no reason to treat him like dirt, Because he is your uncle, and I do wear his ring, And most of all, he is the motherfuckin’ king." "Don’t say mother-fuckin’ king," says Hamlet. "Please, Somehow that phrase makes my blood freeze. My daddy was a handsome dude with dignity and class, And this fat fool got hair on his back and boils on his ass. Can anybody get you in their goddamn bed Just ‘cause they got a crown on their goddamned head?" His momma says, "Hey, before you go off the deep end, There’s some things about women you gotta comprehend. "Now milkmaids and queens, we all have filet mignon dreams, But when the steak is gone, you will eat the beans. And when you’re out of beans, you’ll chew the shoes off their feet, But you eat. Just picture me – a sweet young thing, Then boom – my husband’s dead – and this sucker’s king. So it’s ‘heat the meat and act real sweet’ Or wind up with my ass out in the goddamned street. I got cellulite, I got varicose veins, I got a hip gets stiff every time it rains. And -- this -- is what nursing a baby can do, "Course, honey, I’m not blamin’ you, Though you were such a hungry child, But life goes on and a queen must smile." Then hark – just then Hamlet hears a sound From behind the curtain – like a mouse skitt’rin’ ‘round. But it’s really Ophelia’s daddy, spyin’ for the king, Listenin’ and takin’ down everything. Hamlet yells, "A rat!" and he stabs at the place, And kerplunk, out falls Polonius on his eavedroppin’ face. Hamlet sees it ain’t the king, he says, "Oh shit, Y’finally do take action and this is what you get. Now I killed my girlfriend’s poppa and I’m covered with his blood, How do you explain this to someone you love?" Then here comes Ophelia, callin’, "Daddy, Daddy dear, Hamlet, is my daddy in here?" Well…he is… and he ain’t – but someone should have told the cat Y’don’t wanna get stabbed, don’t make noise like a rat. She cries, "Oh, my daddy’s dead and I can see You stuck it in him like you stuck it in me. I can’t believe the shit you done to me. You used to want all – now you want none of me. Is this your perverted way of makin’ fun o’ me?" Hamlet says, "Hey then, get thee someplace… Maybe a … a nunnery." "Get me to a nunnery?" Ophelia moans, "Now that you ate the chicken, you wanna try and hide the bones? With your poetry and promises you messed up my brain, You are a dirty dog – and not a great Dane." "Please," says Hamlet, "I’m in a crazed condition. Can’t you see I’m torn by indecision? To be or not to be? That’s the fuckin’ question That’s givin’ me migraines and indigestion. Should I take arms against a sea of trouble, Or just walk around goin’ gubble-gubble-gubble?" Ophelia says, "Hey, you don’t fool me a bit, You’re fakin’ all this psycho shit, ‘Cause if you’re insane you don’t have to kill the king, Or marry me or do any damn thing." Ham says, "Hey, go bake a cake, or give your booty a shake, Or take a jump in the motherfuckin’ lake –" Well, that’s where he made another fatal mistake. Y’see he didn’t really mean for the bitch to do it, But she’s gone like a flash, and run, jump, splash, She’s floatin’ and bloatin’ ‘fore anybody knew it. "Oh, when it rains it pours," says Hamlet, "Ain’t no doubt, Here’s another thing I gotta feel guilty about." Well, they have Ophelia’s funeral and everybody’s there. They got diamonds on their doublet, they got ribbons in their hair. They’re rattlin’ their beads and twistin’ in their chairs, Tryin’ to catch if any celebrities are there. And it’s a pleasant event, until into her grave Leaps her brother Laertes and he rants and raves. He’s shakin’ his fist and pullin’ his hair, Gettin’ his ass tangled up in his underwear, Jumpin’ up and down in a frenzied fit, Meanwhile stompin’ her body to shit. He cries, "FEE-FO-FI, if I find the guy who caused her to die, I’ll slice him like a pie. I’ll cut out his heart and send it to Peru, ‘N’ I’ll c.o.d. his balls off to Timbuktu, Ship his dick to England in a registered letter, And then let him try to get his shit back together." Then the king pulls his coat, he says, "Harken to this, Hamlet’s the dude who fucked up your sis. And he also stabbed your daddy, too, And all you do is boo-hoo-hoo? What kind of brother and son are you? If it was my family I know what I’d do, I’d be on him like a damned tattoo. Now… there is a sword with a poisoned tip. It’ll send any sucker on a one-way trip, ‘Cause all it takes is one itty bitty scratch… Hey, Hamlet, how about a little fencin’ match?" Well, then the whole fuckin’ place caves in, Hamlet stabs Laertes, and Laertes stabs him. Then Hamlet turns around and stabs his uncle, too, While the queen drinks some poison the king had brewed. So she dies, he dies, Hamlet dies, Laertes dies On top of where Ophelia lies, Right next to where Polonius died. And before you can wink, blink or turn your head, Chop-stab-slice -- every motherfucker’s dead. Then in walks this cat Fortinbras, he says, "What – is -- this? I have never seen such a fuckin’ mess. You got skulls and swords, you got guts and gore, You got bodies piled up from ceiling to floor. You got broken glass, y’got tangled hairs, You got blood and wine runnin’ down the stairs. You got dented armor and ripped up gowns, You got bent-up crowns just rollin’ ‘round. Y’got a punctured king, y’got a poisoned queen, Y’got a sweet prince dyin’ on the mezzanine. And behind that curtain there’s another dead duff, And a body from the fishpond just floated up. Y’got a stiff in the garden with some gunk in his ear, And a tattoo says GERTRUDE FOREVER right here, And two guards on the gate tower drunk on beer. What the hell’s been goin’ on here?" Well, that was the end of our sweet prince, He died in confusion and nobody’s seen him since. And the moral of the story is bells do get out of tune… And you can find shit in a silver spoon… And an old man’s revenge can be a young man’s ruin… Oh – and never look too close… at what your mamma is doin’.

[thatgothlibrarian]

but Jay, should Hamlet's death by poison be an elaborate metaphor for orgasm aka la petit mort? Horatio helping him make peace with his death etc. ANALYZE IT

This is borderline an essay, so please read my flailing after the cut.

Actually, Horatio isn’t helping him make peace. Hamlet is weirdly calm about his death as it is happening. It is Horatio who is in fact distraught.

Through the play, Horatio has been our voice of reason. He is steady, stable, calm. He is the perfect balance to Hamlet’s keyed-up emotions. We don’t know what Hamlet was like at Wittenberg, but right now he is emotional. His father is dead. His mom has married his uncle a little too soon. He finds out his uncle killed his father and he is tasked with seeking revenge. And he knows how that will end.

I like to think that Hamlet has always been very intense. Horatio doesn’t seem to be disturbed by how like, Extra Hamlet is. And Hamlet does the whole “Give me that man that is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him in my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart, as I do thee” while speaking to Horatio. Horatio being a touchstone, a stabilizing factor, for Hamlet seems pre-established. Another reference to this is the “O Damon dear” line, alluding to the story of Damon and Pythias; Damon being a man who was willing to die for his friend, not even thinking twice about it; and it is obvious this is not the first time the two of them have called each other such.

Before the duel, Horatio is like “idk man maybe you shouldn’t do this,” which prompts Hamlet to give the “we defy augury” speech. Hamlet has accepted his death, and has known it will happen, since that ghost spurred him to his revenge. “There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.” Hamlet knows there is really nothing he can do to stop his own death; it’s gonna happen eventually, right? And he’s so tired. And his revenge is so consuming.

So we get to Act V scene ii. The queen is dead. Claudius is dead. Laertes is dead. And Hamlet, after Laertes admits he poisoned the blades, simply says:

Heaven make thee free of it. I follow thee.— / I am dead, Horatio.—Wretched queen, adieu!— / You that look pale and tremble at this chance, / That are but mutes or audience to this act, / Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death, / Is strict in his arrest), O, I could tell you— / But let it be.— Horatio, I am dead. / Thou livest. Report me and my cause aright / To the unsatisfied.

To which Horatio immediately is like OH FUCK THAT and, since he is “more antique Roman than a Dane” (the name Horatio can be the adjective referring to things that are like the poet Horace, after all, and also this is often read as a “I’m too gay to live without you and I love you”), he picks up the poisoned cup to drink, to kill himself, to follow Hamlet into death. Indeed it is Hamlet who takes the cup from Horatio, who keeps Horatio from killing himself. It is Hamlet who helps Horatio make peace with his death, not Horatio who helps Hamlet. “If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,” Hamlet says to Horatio when asking him to stay alive, to tell the story of what happened.

As Hamlet takes his final breaths, he uses them in fact for mundane things: let people know that Fortinbras has my vote for taking over, because I will be dead before I hear news from England, and I hear Fortinbras coming now. The rest is silence. Death is silence. Death is peace. Death is freedom. The rest, indeed, is rest. And this breaks Horatio’s heart:

Now cracks a noble heart.–Good night, sweet prince, / And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

SO. If we want to try to make this an orgasm metaphor, how would we go about this? We must first link death and love within this play, and Shakespeare has quite the track record for just that.

1. This almost suicide recalls the end of Romeo and Juliet: Romeo sees his lover dead and drinks poison to kill himself, and then Juliet sees her dead lover and kills herself with his dagger (indeed, what could the dagger be in our extended metaphor). So the death of Hamlet mirrors both deaths: poison, and the second lover killing themselves with something of the first’s.

2. Shakespeare was such a big fan of Christopher Marlowe that the only thing in all of Shakespeare’s plays that he directly quotes is the Hero and Leander poem of Marlowe’s, another tale of tragic love. This poem is also uh gay, and the Chapman addition directly following Marlowe’s death even more so. For an excellent analysis of this poem and particularly the addition, see Queer Philologies: Sex, Language, and Affect in Shakespeare’s Time by Jeffrey Masten, which I am reading right now.

3. Hamlet is full of references to classical lovers and friends separated or almost separated by death. And I use “friends” here in the context of the time: same-sex friendship held different connotations than it does now, and the lines between romantic, sexual, and platonic relationships were not as clean-cut as they are today. Hamlet calls Horatio Damon, thus making himself Pythias. In the Yorick speech, Hamlet calls up Alexander the Great, and particularly his death. The speech Hamlet asks the Player King to perform is the slaughter of Priam, and the thing that strikes him after is the ability for the Player King to show such emotion “for Hecuba! What’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, that he should weep for her?” Again, two lovers separated not just by death but by tragic death.

4. There’s this essay called “Hamlet: Letters and Spirits” in the book Shakespeare and the Question of Theory that discusses a small throwaway line given by Laertes, where he says the name of the Norman man is “Lamord.” This essay points out how that sounds like “la mort” and indeed also like “l’amour.” Love and death, and the audience would hear both since they sound so alike.

We have our death/love precedent set, then, in a play defined by death, and especially the death of those people love, and then the death they deal out because of it. We have Horatio almost killing himself as Hamlet dies. Indeed, joining him in death. In our orgasm metaphor, I feel I don’t even need to explain that symbolism.

So let’s lay out our metaphor further, so that it culminates in Hamlet dying, and thus some form of cathartic release from life, and what else is orgasm but a release?

Our play opens with a ghost, yes, but Hamlet is introduced to us in a wedding/funeral. He’s upset. He’s grumpy. He’s pissy and sassy. “A little more than kin, and less than kind,” indeed. He’s defensive. And as soon as he is alone, he releases. “Oh that this too too sullied/solid flesh would melt.” Tension, release. We see a similar tension/release with the “rogue and peasant slave” soliloquy. He’s been fucking around with Polonius. He’s been fucking around with Ros and Guil (having some “foreplay” of our release with “what a piece of work is man”). He’s been Extra and requested a highly emotionally charged speech of death and love from the players. When Hamlet is then left alone on stage: “Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I.” Tension, release. And each of these releases, they are not pleasurable. They might be cathartic, but they are not releases of ecstasy but rather releases such as lancing a wound, a morbid release. They show how much performing Hamlet is having to do, and then he finally can stop that performance and rest. But those rests are never restful.

Until the final rest. Two men duel with their swords (indeed, Hamlet says the rapier and dagger or whatever the hell he names are only two of Laertes’ weapons wink wink nudge nudge), and through this act of homoerotic violence, everyone on stage dies except Horatio. And only because Hamlet begs him not to die. The psychosexual fiasco that is Hamlet culminates in the final release of death, of la mort and l’amour. Hamlet is dead long before that release and he knows it. And in his death, his la mort, he begs of Horatio out of love, out of l’amour, to “absent thee from felicity awhile” so that this story can be told. The rest, and the rest, is silence. The rest is rest. Death is the ultimate release. Death is the ultimate reprieve, the ultimate sweetness, the ultimate pleasure. Man delights not Hamlet, no nor woman either, but Death comes as a welcome friend, the skull of a jester spoken to with fond remembrance.

For Horatio, we see heightened emotion and almost complete loss of control in this moment. He attempts to join Hamlet in death, in release. Without l’amour of Hamlet, the rest is la mort. Horatio does not get his release, at least not in the same way that Hamlet does. Although Hamlet’s death is a tragedy, it finally allows Hamlet to rest. Note how he says the rest is silence. Horatio is denied sharing the release with Hamlet, and now cracks a noble heart. Horatio has been calm this whole play, and so Hamlet in fact has to help him make peace with what is happening. When Horatio calls Hamlet “sweet Prince,” it echoes back to “Here, sweet lord, at your service,” the only other time Horatio uses that epithet for Hamlet. And yes, sweet had homoerotic connotations when used between two men. Horatio is a service top confirmed. But in this moment, Hamlet is at Horatio’s service. Hamlet has the release of death, the post-orgasmic state of release where the mind is empty. How else is Horatio supposed to address him then if not as a lover? Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. Again, we see this theme of rest. The languid, empty-minded rest that comes from orgasm, and indeed this is the final form of that, and it is heavenly. There is this perfect, clear moment of Hamlet’s death. The rest is silence. A beat. Nothingness (and remember what nothing was a euphemism for, kiddos). The entire play has prepared us for this moment. This entire play is foreplay for this moment of release. The rest is silence. Sure, in a Shakespearean tragedy, the climax is in Act III, which is in our case the confirmation of Claudius’ guilt, the ultimate moment of Hamlet’s indecision, and the murder of Polonius (which triggers Ophelia’s madness, which triggers Laertes’ own need for revenge, the duel, and death). But the climax of our metaphor is here at the end, in Act V scene ii. The rest is silence.

But we don’t get an afterglow. With Horatio, we too are left unsatisfied. Now cracks a noble heart. But we see that Hamlet ascends through his release, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

I like to argue that this play is in fact not Hamlet’s but Horatio’s. After all, he is the one telling the story. And I like to think that he, not Hamlet, is our audience analog. We end the play the only people left on stage alive, holding Hamlet in our arms, coming down from the release. And then Fortinbras shows up and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead and it’s a whole bunch of shit nobody can quote and sometimes gets cut out completely. What people remember is an almost pieta like image of Hamlet dead in Horatio’s arms. The rest is silence. Good night, sweet prince. La mort and l’amour.

[rickmumford]

YOU’RE NEVER GONNA LET ME DOWN

I grew up in a church where we sang hymns and one of my favorite was written by Horatio Spafford after he lost much of his fortune in the Great Fire of Chicago, his young son died of scarlet fever and his four little girls Annie, Maggie, Bessie and Tanetta drowned at sea in a shipwreck. Horatio wrote:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well with my soul.

The very real truth behind those lyrics is that, no matter how hard life may be, I can trust God because He is good, all the time. Nowadays we sing a different type of worship song at church. We sang this little ditty today:

You are good, good, oh-ohh. You are good, good, oh-ohh. You are good, good, oh-ohh. You are good, good, oh-ohh. You're never gonna let, never gonna let me down. You're never gonna let, never gonna let me down. You're never gonna let, never gonna let me down. You're never gonna let, never gonna let me down. You're never gonna let, never gonna let me down. You're never gonna let, never gonna let me down. You're never gonna let, never gonna let me down. You're never gonna let, never gonna let me down. (Repeat)

Perhaps I could argue that the richness and theology of our worship music has lost its depth in our Twitterized culture. But I actually like this song. Especially the first part, about God being good. God tells us in His Word that, no matter how difficult life’s circumstances become, He is a good God. “For the LORD is good; His lovingkindness is everlasting And His faithfulness to all generations.” (Psalm 100:5). Nahum 1:7 reminds us that “the LORD is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble, and He knows those who take refuge in Him.” When life is hard and the nights are long, I can find my way if I remember what I know to be true: God is good and He loves me.

We can absolutely trust in the goodness of God. It is a promise I have held tight to over these difficult years. We can put our faith in Him, that even when heart-crushing sorrows come rolling in wave after wave after wave, He is still good. I like singing about the goodness of God because it reminds me of critical truth.

But then this song goes on to say that God is “never gonna never let me down.” As if somehow God’s goodness is tied to whether or not I feel let down. I don’t know about you, but I have felt let down by God over and over and over again. I can’t begin to count how many times I’ve felt let down by God! I prayed for Amy’s healing 10,000 times with no response. How could I not feel let down?

 I don’t think I’m alone in this.

I’m pretty sure that Job felt let down by God when a gang of Sabeans stole his oxen and donkeys, lightning killed his sheep, three gangs of Chaldeans stole his camels, most of his servants were murdered, and a microburst killed all of his children. Doesn’t cursing the day of his birth (Job 3:1) at least insinuate that he feels let down by God?

Joseph most likely felt let down by God when his brothers sold him into slavery for eight ounces of silver.  I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that he felt let down again when he got thrown into prison for resisting sexual advances from a perverse woman.

Jesus’ disciples must have felt let down as they were murdered one-by-one. Andrew was scourged, and then tied rather than nailed to a cross, so that he would suffer for a longer time before dying. Philip, Simon and Thaddaeus were crucified the old-fashioned way. Peter was crucified upside down. James was beheaded. Thomas was run through with a spear.  Matthew was stabbed in the back. James was beaten and stoned then killed after being hit in the head with a club. Historians aren’t quite sure if Bartholomew was beaten then crucified or skinned alive and then beheaded, but either way, I would imagine he would have felt at least a twinge of being let down by God.

When King David learned that his rebellious young son Absalom was dead, he went up to the room over the gateway and burst into tears. And as he went, he cried, “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you! O Absalom, my son, my son.”

At one point in Moses’ life he prayed that if God really loved him then God would kill him as a show of compassion (Numbers 11:15). Naomi followed her husband to a foreign land and lost everything she held dear. Though her name meant pleasant, she asked her friends to call her Mara which meant bitter. Jeremiah was known as the Weeping Prophet because he cried and grieved for his people who ignored His message.

It seems apparent that even Jesus Himself, while suffocating to death as He was nailed to a cross, felt let down by God as He cried out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?”

Because of the Fall, pain and disappointment and heartbreak are a very real part of life. Jesus never promised we wouldn’t feel let down by God, He promised that in this world we would have trouble (John 16:33). Trouble hurts and the pain is real. To quote the Man in Black from The Princess Bride, “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

So how did we end up with the lyrics, “You’re never gonna let, never gonna let me down” in a worship song?

Because it’s true. God won’t let me down.

If God is perfect in all of His ways (Psalm 18:30), if He is faithful to keep His covenant and steadfast love with those who love Him (Deuteronomy 7:9), if He is good and His love endures forever (Psalm 107:1) then I can trust that He’s never gonna actually let me down, even though it may feel like it.

There is a difference between feeling let down by God and actually being let down by God. God had a purpose through the very real pain that Job, Joseph, Andrew, Philip, Simon, Thaddaeus, Peter, James, Thomas, Matthew, James, Bartholomew, David, Moses, Naomi, Jeremiah and Jesus endured. And He didn’t drop the ball with you, either.

In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul talks explains how he was frequently thrown into prison, severely flogged, exposed to death again and again, received the forty lashes minus one five times, beaten with rods three times, pelted with stones, shipwrecked three times, spent a night and a day in the open sea, was constantly on the move, in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits and others in the city, country and at sea, experienced hunger and thirst and sleeplessness, and experienced tremendous stress. Being a human, Paul did not enjoy or hope for any of these painful and sucky experiences. Yet he goes on to say that, for “Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:10). Paul sees a greater, higher purpose in life than experiencing pleasant circumstances and avoiding pain. He may feel let down as he is being flogged within an inch of his life. But because His eyes are fixed on Jesus, Paul is able to rise above, trusting that God is still perfect, on His throne, in charge, and still good. So when Paul felt let down, He prayerfully adjusted his perspective to fit with God’s.

When one of my children disobeys and I must punish them, they feel let down. They don’t like the punishment—it hurts and it is unpleasant. Actually, no discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. (Hebrews 12:11) In reality, I didn’t actually let my children down by punishing them. But in fact, I did what’s very best for them, because I love them. In time, I hope, they will understand that my ways and thoughts are higher than theirs.

My concern is that God’s people will sing, “You’re never gonna let me down” and then when they are diagnosed with cancer, lose their job, or experience death they will get mad at God, thinking He has somehow broken His promise and let them down. But when we learn that God is truly good and always worthy of our trust, we learn the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” (Philippians 4:12).

So the next time sorrows like sea billows roll and you feel like God has let you down, remember He really is good, good, oh-ohh.

[erinrosses]

Because I never finished the other AU that I'm gonna post later, here's another AU:

- Everybody is defined by a Shakespeare story

- Relating to their story, they have some sort of magic.

- Preston is an exception. He's the master. Also, so are any of the adult characters and Jasper. They are explained in this as lines from the play.

David: "“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy.” - Hamlet. David believes that there is more than just sadness and depression. That there's more to this life than just sadness.

Gwen: “By all the vows that ever men have broke, in number more than ever women spoke” - Midsummers Night Dream. After all, men are so bad at keeping girls. She had been cheated on for so many years, yet these words have never left her tongue.

Campbell: "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.". After all, did he truly love Davey? David, Cupid, painted blind but not trying to love with his mind. Pity. He wanted to have fun.

Jasper: "By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks!" After all, there's something in the air. He is the only one with a sense of humor around here, but he knows something is happening.

Max: Hamlet. The boy wants a happy family life, but with his crazy girl he's not sure it's gonna happen.

Neil: Macbeth. After all, he's got almost everything. He just needs to get rid of David, and then he will have his chance. They're just calling, and he can't help but want the throne. But science catches up too quickly to his head.

Nikki: Much Ado About Nothing. She doesn't need this, but she does. Guess she will have to love him- and hate him.

Ered: Coriolanus. She wants a riot, and she's gonna get it, no matter what.

Nerris: Midsummers Night Dream. She's been waiting, the fairies say she should fall in love with this donkey, but she isn't sure. And maybe, he's unfaithful. But she would never know.

Harrison: As You Like It. And he must FLEE !! FLEE !! he cannot stay?

Nurf: King Lear. Oh tragedy, oh comedy; if they found out, he would die.

Dolph: Othello. Maybe he's just different..

Space Kid: Romeo and Juliet. He's loved. Loved too much, and his heart only shatters once they're gone. He just bites his thumb and looks on, as everybody falls before him.

Daniel: "Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air." After al, Daniel is so twisted up. It's no wonder he wants to start here, where he can clear up the fog and air.

Jen: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts." Humans are so boring.. yet, one has caught her eye. And maybe, just maybe, this one will rule the world with her.

Preston: "Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." After all, this stage is so boring, and nobody will play along!! He has to pull them along.. guess he will have to start again.

[hamletandthegang]

TW: blood, mentioning of throwing up, panic attacks, mentions of death

The Aftermath

Horatio and Anna sat in Horatio’s silver car, driving down the highway. Horatio was listening to a podcast through his headphones, and Anna was busy working on an art piece on her tablet. They drove in silence, both very tired from the long plane ride. Horatio couldn’t help but feel uneasy, like something was very very wrong.

They had been driving for nearly an hour, when Anna checked her phone. It was sitting in the cup holder by her chair, Do Not Disturb switched on. She opened it and frowned to see that there were 51 missed messages, as well as ten missed calls. Horatio glanced over to her, and saw her scroll through the notifications, before reading the one sent by Guidenstern.

It was a video. She tapped on it, and it opened and began to play. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were running down the hallway, the audio was very distorted from all the background noise. They came to a stop by what looked like the Queen’s bedroom, and gasped when they looked inside. “That’s a lot of blood,” Rosencrantz remarked breathlessly. That got Horatio’s attention, and he took out his headphones, trying to keep his attention on the road as much as possible.

Guildenstern shifted the phone and placed it so that the mess inside could be seen. Gertrude sat on the bed, limp, and surrounded by guards and medics who were trying to wake her from her apparent faint. The floor near the foot of the bed was covered in puddled blood, soaking through the red curtain that had fallen. Shards of glass were scattered all over the floor. The King stood in the doorway of the bathroom, shouting orders left and right. He couldn’t be heard through the recording, but the words, “HAMLET… CAPTURE… MUST BE… DO NOT LET HIM-” rang out loud and clear, and Annalise gasped quietly when she realized who must’ve caused this.

“He killed Polonius?!” Guildenstern whispered to Rosencrantz, but the recording picked it up. The video moved and was pointed towards the floor as they seemed to rush down the hallway.

“Where do you think he went-?” Was the last thing the video picked up before it stopped.

Annalise stared at her phone in shock. Then she looked up, “Horatio, pull over, now.”

Horatio did so, and the moment the car stopped, Anna opened the door and stumbled out of it. She coughed, and tried to keep from throwing up into the grass. Horatio rushed to her side, and gave her the tumbler filled with cold water. She took a drink, and then a deep breath. “Sorry,” she said quietly after a moment, “That was a lot of blood,”

“It’s fine,” Horatio said, and he opened his own phone. There were tons of missed calls and messages, but the only one he paid attention to was the one from Hamlet. It read, “I fucked up” And nothing else. He showed Anna, and she let out a sharp laugh.

“I’m gonna kill him!” She said with another shrill laugh, and opened the door to the car.

“Are you good now?” Horatio asked, not wanting her to throw up in his car.

She nodded. “We have to get back there ASAP.”

“Okay,” Horatio rounded the car and got in. He texted his parents that an emergency had come up and he would have to visit some other time.

“Oh god,” Anna said with a sudden realization as Horatio started the car. Horatio looked at her. “What about Ophelia?”

***

Ophelia had been the first to see it. She had heard the Queen scream, and had opened the door softly, just in time to see Hamlet curled in on himself, covered in the blood of- no, it couldn’t be. Ophelia shut the door back, and stumbled down the hallway. The image of her father, laying on the ground, obviously murdered, was burned into her vision. She couldn’t see anything else. It couldn’t be. She must have seen wrong.

Ophelia crumpled to the ground, back up against the wall in the middle of the hallway. Her head was spinning. There was so much blood. She wiped her hands on her shorts, but realized there was no blood on them. Her skin crawled.

She felt her breath start to quicken, and she scrambled to her feet. She stumbled down the hallway, and went to the nearest bathroom. She clicked the door lock, and collapsed on the floor.

***

Guildenstern turned off the video and immediately sent it to Annalise and Horatio. They had to know what was going on. Then he and Rosencrantz rushed down the stairs to the hallway below.

“Wait,” Rosencrantz put out his hand and stopped him. “Where’s Ophelia?”

“Oh shit,” Guildenstern realized, and began to look around.

Rosencrantz listened, he had heard something, but didn’t know where it was.

Guildenstern was a few steps ahead of him, looking around and softly calling her name.

Rosencrantz heard it again, a quiet sniffing. He turned and saw the door to the woman’s bathroom. He stepped closer to it, and put his face near the door handle.

“Phelia? Is that you?” He said gently. The sound stopped immediately, and he had his answer. “It’s me, Rosencrantz. Can you open the door please?”

He waited a moment, and motioned Guildenstern over. The doorknob turned, and slowly the door opened. They peaked in, and saw Ophelia sitting on the floor just behind the door.

Guildenstern walked in and sat down next to her. Rosencrantz sat down on the toilet lid and put a hand on her shoulder for support.

She seemed to be in the middle of a full blown panic attack. “Did you see it?” Guildenstern asked, and she nodded. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out and she kept breathing faster and faster. Guildenstern took her by the arm, making sure she kept looking at him.

“Phelia, listen to me. You have to take a deep breath. Take a deep breath. Come on,” Guildenstern said commandingly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth, you’re not going to die, I promise…” Ophelia started to copy his breathing pattern, “Good, good job, I promise you’re not running out of air, you’re not dying,” He continued to talk her through it, he knew exactly what to say. Rosencrantz stayed quiet, simply keeping his hand on her shoulder, the way he had done with Guildenstern so many times before.

“Can you talk to me?” Guildenstern asked gently. Ophelia shook her head, she still couldn’t get any sound to come out. It felt like her voice was frozen. “Okay, that’s alright. This happens sometimes, it’s not unusual. Phelia, I promise you’re not dying. Do you need me to do something? Or just be here?”

Ophelia motioned for him to just stay still, and put her knees up to her forehead, trying to steady her breath. After a few moments, she let out a gravelly, “He killed him,” And her breath pattern began to speed up again. Her phone buzzed, and Guildenstern picked it up as Ophelia looked away. She had sent one message to Hamlet, saying simply “Why?”, and now Hamlet had answered with “idk just felt like it”. Guildenstern felt his anger rise, but stopped himself and simply blocked him from texting her and shut off the phone.

“Let’s not think about that right now, okay? You just need to breathe right now, nothing else matters.” Ophelia nodded and tried to take another breath. Her fluffy blond hair had almost completely fallen out of the messy bun she’d put it in that morning for the plane ride, and her mascara was running down her face like a waterfall. Guildenstern glanced up at Rosencrantz, and he nodded, saying You’re doing good. He sat down on the floor on the other side of Ophelia, and let her place her head into his shoulder. She took a shaky breath, and Guildenstern filled a small cup up with water from the sink and gave it to her.

She took a drink, and set it down on the floor. After a moment, Guildenstern noticed that her gaze was stuck on the wall, unwavering. “Where is Hamlet?” She spoke, almost whispering.

Guildenstern and Rosencrantz looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

[hamletandthegang]

Hey! This fic gets a little intense, and has a lot of su*cidal thoughts & actions, pills, and a lot of angry swearing. There is also a scene that may be triggering to those who have suffered ab*se of relatives or traumatic loss of a relative. Be safe friends!

Flowers

Laertes rounded the corner, followed closely by Horatio, Annalise, and several guards.

“Laertes, listen,” Horatio tried to catch up with his determined pace. “She’s very fragile right now, please don’t do anything-”

“I know my sister more than anyone,” Laertes growled. “I have to talk to her.”

Horatio looked at Annalise, and she seemed just as concerned as he was. Laertes was not a gentle person, he was a trained military general, and Ophelia’s relationship with him had always been… less than optimal to say the least. Ophelia didn’t like to talk about the things that had happened between her and her father and brother when she was younger, but the others could read between the lines enough to see that it hadn’t been good. Her father especially, had tried his very best to “shelter” her from the world, which meant that he had cut her off completely from the world for most of her life, and had trained her older brother to do the same. Laertes had been conditioned specifically to truly believe that the world was filled with pain and suffering, and that he had to be coarse and tough to protect his sister from it.

And Laertes had certainly failed. But that couldn’t be possible, he never failed. Therefore, it must be Ophelia who had failed to take his counsel.

Laertes spotted her across the courtyard, sitting quietly in a swinging bench in a small flower garden enclosed by a fence, and sped up to meet her. He called her name, and she looked at him, still with that glassy eyed innocent expression, like a lost child. She stared at him blankly for a moment, as he hopped over the gate and strode over to her, and all at once, a smile spread across her face and she rose to hug him. Her arms draped across his shoulders, but he did not reciprocate the gesture.

“Laertes!” She cried, “You’re home! Thank goodness, I’ve missed you so much! You won’t believe all the things that have happened since-”

Laertes threw her arms off, and she stopped mid sentence. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He started in immediately, and Ophelia stepped back away from him instinctively. Horatio and Annalise tried to open the gate, but the body guards kept them back. No one interferes, Laertes had commanded them. I will talk to her alone. “I told you not to date that bastard, I told you he was not good for you, and look what happened! Our father is dead!” His voice frayed and threatened to break. Ophelia stared at him with wide eyes as he shouted in her face.

“Why did you have to go and involve yourself with Hamlet- father told you not too. He told you to stay away, for your own good. Well, goddamnit Ophelia, look what happens when you don’t obey! He’s dead! He’s dead! He’ll never come back, and guess who’s fault it is!” Ophelia flinched and stumbled backwards, as if anticipating being struck across the face. “I’m not gonna hit you,” Laertes shouted, somehow angrier at her reaction. “Do you want me to hit you? Is that what you want?” And he held up his hand threateningly.

“Laertes, stop!” Annalise yelled, held back by the guard behind her. It was a good thing too, because she might’ve killed him, she was so angry.

“Shut the hell up!” He snarled at her, and turned back to Ophelia. He opened his mouth to shout again, but froze when he saw her. She was sitting on the ground, where she had tripped backwards when he raised his hand. Her expression was completely blank, but tears streamed silently down her face.

“It is my fault, isn’t it?” She whispered. Laertes didn’t say anything, and that seemed to convince her. The cracks had already been formed a while ago, but all at once, something inside of her shattered. Laertes watched her brush tears off of her cheeks, and begin to giggle. “Goddamnit Ophelia, goddamnit Ophelia,” Like a mantra, she spoke his words as she stood up shakily. She straightened, and looked him right in the eyes as she said, “He’s dead, he’s dead and he’s not coming back,”

Laertes looked back at her, confusion etched in his angry expression. She continued repeating bits and pieces of his own words, and that seemed to anger him even more. “Are you some kind of parrot now? Is that what this is? Ophelia, what the hell are you doing?” He asked as she turned away from him and placed a foot over the short fence that surrounded the garden. She looked back at him once, a lost smile plastered on her face, and then turned, slipped over the fence quietly, and walked away through the courtyard grass. “Fine, go ahead and leave,” Laertes retorted, not trying to follow her. She didn’t stop walking, and turned into the stone arched hallway that led back into the castle. And she was gone.

Laertes slumped against the swinging seat, and sighed tiredly. Annalise shook off the guard’s grasp, and had bounded over the gate before she could be grabbed again. In one swift motion, she strided over to him, and swung a powerful punch right into his upper back and shoulder. He stumbled forward, the wind knocked out of him. She then jumped over the fence and began to follow where Ophelia had gone.

Laertes stood up and began to shout at her, but she just flipped him off and kept walking. Horatio followed after her, and left Laertes to himself in the flower garden.

***

Ophelia was lost. The floor moved beneath her feet, bringing her to a magnificent tapestry hanging on the wall in the lamp-lit hallway. She pushed it aside and crept into the slim corridor beyond, letting the cloth close behind her. Again, the floor seemed to move underneath her, and the next thing she knew, she had made it to the other side of the tunnel, that opened into the small area just underneath the bell tower, in the far eastern side of the castle. She sat down on the ledge, and unfurled her hair, letting it blow in the wind. The small square area had arced gaps cut out of the sides, and she dangled her feet out, watching the castle far below.

***

“Are you okay?” Horatio asked Annalise quietly, trying to keep up with her as she walked through the hall. She didn’t answer. Her expression was calm and collected, but Horatio could almost feel the rage radiating off of her. He had never seen her hit anyone. She hated violence, but he could tell that Laertes had pushed too far. Horatio had never seen her truly angry before, and he was beginning to be glad of it.

***

“Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s Day,

All in the morning bedtime,

And I a maid at your window,

To be your Valentine.”

Ophelia’s soft voice reverberated in the bell tower, sounds bouncing off the walls. She had heard the song before, she didn’t remember where, but it was very beautiful and she loved to sing it. She continued singing, until she, glancing over the courtyard far below her, saw her brother, shouting orders at the guards. They rushed away, and he stayed in the enclosed garden, raging and stomping about. It all came back at once, and she stopped singing.

Her father was rarely a kind man, and most of the time was completely engrossed by his work with the king and his son. Ophelia had always been the afterthought- expected to step in as the woman of the house when her mother left, and only really talked to in a very manipulative way. She had realized it years ago, and it probably would’ve killed her if her friends had not been there to help her come to terms with everything. At one time, she might’ve been glad to have him dead. Maybe that was a cruel thought, but she didn’t care.

But then there was the other matter: Hamlet. Her Hamlet. The fluffy-headed boy she had watched grow into the Prince of Denmark. Everything had been wonderful before his father died, and now he was a murderer. Why did he do it? Ophelia’s eyes began to fill again. He must be out of his mind. “I’m not much worse,” She spoke aloud, she knew what she had become. The Hamlet she thought she knew would never do that to her. The Hamlet she knew loved her. Where was her Hamlet?

It didn���t matter now. “I’m so tired,” She whispered as she stood up from the ledge of the bell tower and turned back to the tunnel.

She froze as the thought dropped into her mind. The piece of her that would’ve stopped her was lost in a fog of confusion and guilt, and she moved as if in a dream back down the small steps into the corridor. Hamlet had mentioned his uncle’s ‘medicine’ cabinet before…

Her feet led her there, she certainly didn’t know where to go, but soon enough she had arrived and pushed aside the second tapestry. She stepped into the soft light of the King’s private quarters. It was quiet, the king himself was rarely there. She walked across the room, careful not to make any noise, and into his enormous bathroom.

She opened the mirrored cabinet, and looked at the many bottles of pills and drinks. Just like Hamlet had described.

Laertes walked into the room, and Ophelia froze as he ducked into the bathroom. He stopped when he saw her, and after taking in what she was doing, said breathlessly, “No- you can’t.”

“Please,” Ophelia said, tears welling up in her eyes again. Part of her fought back, screamed for him to stop her, but it was overwhelmed by the hundreds of other voices in her mind telling her to do it. “I can’t live like this anymore,” she choked out.

Laertes advanced and tried to take her away from the cabinet forcefully, but she instinctively pushed him away and rolled away from him. “You’re not in your right mind, Ophelia, please just-”

“NO!” Ophelia screamed, trying to get around him to the cabinet. “You said it yourself, it’s my fault!! It’s my fault! I can’t- I didn’t- it’s my fault Laertes!! It’s my fault!” Ophelia sank to the floor, sobbing and screaming at him. Laertes looked at her, conflicted.

After a moment of silence, the only noise being Ophelia’s choked sobs, Laertes turned to the cabinet, and swiftly snatched a bottle filled with small green pills. The bottle had long lost it’s label. “Fine.” He said, and rolled the bottle to her. She looked up, half of her relieved and the other half devastated that even her own brother wouldn’t try to stop her.

Laertes glanced over his shoulder one last time before ducking out of the room and walking away. Ophelia watched him go, before stumbling out of the room, bottle in hand, and running down the hallway.

She rushed out of the castle, fast as her legs would carry her, and ran all the way down the steps and the steep hill to the small boating lake that lay next to the castle, surrounded by a grove of beautiful willow trees and flowers. Her white sundress that she had put on the day before frilled out behind her as she ran.

[hamletandthegang]

The Final meeting.

“Thank you all for coming, I’m so glad to have you all here, yadda yadda yadda you know the drill. Now I’m gonna cut the bullshit and get down to the what’s what.” Maggie placed her hands up on the table and leaned against it, taking a sip of the vodka nearby. She gazed around the room, surveying the faces around her and hoping she’d see them all here again by the end of this week.

Hamlet, Ophelia, Horatio, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Annalise, Monica, Marc, all seven of the rebel group, all sitting around in the cramped room they had chosen to be a meeting room, staring at her in bated silence. This was what so many of them had been preparing for for so long, and here it was.

“I have 4,000 men from Norway that will be here bright and early Thursday morning, and I will go and meet them just outside of the city. Monica, you’ll come with me and keep tabs on everyone’s status throughout the takeover. Marilyn- Ophelia’s mother if you haven’t heard- has agreed to bring a squad of some of the best of the police force in the city, and she will come meet me with the Norwegian troops. When the time is right the police force will circle the castle and begin a takeover of the building, and when the national guard comes in I will lead my troops in as reinforcements and storm the castle. That’s where you all come in. Hamlet, I want you to talk to Laertes somehow and schedule the duel for this Thursday evening. Make sure he doesn’t back out of it.” Hamlet nodded and saluted. “Now, Ophelia, Horatio, and Annalise will stay in the throne room with him, making sure everything goes according to plan. Basically your goal will be to make the duel and all it’s pomp so entertaining and loud that all the nobles and especially the King and Queen are preoccupied and not thinking about what’s going on outside the doors. Igor, Sebastian, Camila, and Eloise will take the lead in pretending to be guards and locking the doors to the throne room and keeping everyone inside. Marc, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Ryzza, Jackie, and Louise will take the van and station themselves on the drawbridge by the front gates. I spoke to each of you individually before this meeting and gave you the general rundown, if you have questions talk to me afterward. Basically your job is another line of distraction and keep the national guard focused on you while the troops besiege around you.” Maggie knew how dangerous that area would be, and had only allowed those who volunteered to be positioned there. Next, Maggie turned back to Hamlet. “Be careful- since you will be technically trapped inside with not a lot of easy access to communication with the others, you won’t be able to call for help if the duel should go wrong. You’re confident in your skills?”

Without hesitation, Hamlet answered darkly, “Yes.”

Maggie glanced almost instinctively and met Ophelia’s eye for just a second before saying, “Good. Once the duel is over and you have won, keep everyone in there as long as possible until we can break our way in and get to the throne room to confront Claudius. After that, it’s all a political game.” Maggie scanned the faces in the room. “I’m hoping there won’t be much bloodshed, but I cannot predict there will be none. Do I have your loyalty in taking down this King? If there is any hesitation, please speak up now.”

The room was quiet for a moment, and Maggie felt her chest tighten up.

“You have my complete loyalty.” Hamlet spoke first. She let a relieved smile slip from her face, and met his gaze. They had been sworn enemies only a few months ago, now she felt as if she’d known him a lifetime. They were shockingly similar in moral beliefs and ideals, and she had greatly enjoyed spending the last few days with him and his friends. She never would’ve guessed that the prince she had sworn to kill would one day be such a great friend to her, but she supposed that was the way life went. She never expected her brothers to murder her mother and blame it on her either, but people were fickle like that and she had learned to stop her assumptions from getting in the way.

“Mine as well,” Ophelia smiled.

“Me too,” Horatio spoke quietly, and this surprised Maggie. She thought he out of all of them would be the one to refuse.

One by one, each person in the room spoke, until they were all in agreement, they would follow Maggie to the end of the earth for this campaign. It was a great burden to hold on her shoulders, but Maggie took the responsibility graciously. Leading had not come naturally to her, but she’d done it so long it now felt like an ill-fitting overcoat slipping over her shoulders, perfectly comfortable in the knowledge that she’d done it a hundred times before.

“Alright, then we have much to prepare.” Maggie clapped her hands and the meeting dissolved into individual excited conversations and rushing words.