#shakesQUEER

[unicornofthemidwest]

I love it when Viola is transmasc and I love it when Viola is bisexual and I love it when Viola is a butch repressed-sapphic cisgirl and I love it when Viola is a trans woman and I love it when it's not really clear what Viola's gender is and I love it when Twelfth Night is about genderqueerness and I love it I love it I love it when Viola is queer

[moldyfairyguts]

toxic doomed old man yaoi

shakespeare if he was woke

Iago: God forsake that doltish, doltish man! That he believeth each word to drop from mine own lips as though ‘twere holy writ, blindeth himself in his conceit... God save us all if that moor hadst remain’d powerful as he once was. Was! ‘Tis ever so sweet to speak of him in the past. My hatred for the man doth outlast his brief, fool’s life. Ay, good riddance I say, good riddance. It gives me somewhat to dwell upon, rather than mine own blood seepeth o’er my clothes – and yet, whilst I am so bruised and beaten, the thought dost creep o’er my mind, that I am glad Othello saw me not in such estate... good riddance, I say! And good riddance to his whore of a wife, loyal or nay! I stand triumphant, as I ever was, whilst they both do rot in the ground, many a pace betwixt them. Never have I known a fate more satisfying. If he were to cast me aside, then let him have naught by his side. Yet the question I can but ask myself still, is why doth mine heart ache so? The moor is dead by none but his own doing. Blind was he to mine own worth, casting me off like so. Say not mine hand was unforced. So why doth I ache so?

Were he alive, would he rue it? The fool, to end his own life... could he not be a man? Othello, thou art a fool if thou hear’st me now! By what reason or wit didst thou wed that woman? Did she know thee better than I? Did she know thee more deeply? Doth her devotion put mine years of loyalty to shame? I-

Ay, see me now! Pacing and railing against the walls of this accurs’d cell like a craz’d wretch. Nay, Othello, thou art not here. Good riddance to thee. Thou art dead, I am alive; thus I am the victor.

Yet it doth feel less noble than I had dreamt. There is no crowd to applaud me within these walls. In mine heart there smoulders a fire, yet beneath it lies an emptiness naught can fill. My hunger should have been sated the moment that blade pierc’d his belly, yet instead tis growing more keen as each day doth pass. And without him. Yet pass they do.

Nay, good riddance, The days pass as e’er they did, yet the man who wronged me doth not see their passage – that alone is reason for celebration. Were I free this moment, mayhap I’d travel to the nearest tavern and there proclaim my triumph to all ‘til my voice grew hoarse.

Yet, even as I say it, I dread that the instant I entered, the name “Othello” would lie presuppos’d on my tongue. Oh, heavens, whom do I seek to deceive? There is none but myself here. His name, which stirr’d naught but anger in my heart, used to do the opposite. Speak on, I shall not, for if there aught left to grip save mine hand upon mine wind, it is my dignity. These walls, they crack and whisper – I should know, for I have stood long upon the other side of them. For Othello’s sake, no less.

The fate he met, ‘twas by his own hand wrought. Cassio, his choice? That lecherous, fawning knave? Were I in Othello’s stead, I’d have cast off this mortal coil the moment such a decision was made. And yet, as he hearken’d to mine own supposed crimes, ere he did end his life in such selfish haste, I find myself longing that his reddened face and rueful eye had been set alight for another cause. Mayhaps a more selfish one. That red, perchance warm’d by mine lips upon his.

God, save me! Let some gaoler enter this cell and thrash me senseless for thinking thus, and let mine head be dash’d upon the cold stone floor for that I would not repent.

--

translated version for stupid harlots

Iago:

God forsake that stupid, stupid man! Believing every word to come out my mouth like it is the scripture itself, blinding himself with his own ego... god save us all if he was to remain as powerful as he was. Was – it’s ever so satisfying to speak of him in past tense now. My hate  for the man lives longer than he ever did. Good riddance, I say, good riddance. It gives me something to occupy myself with, rather than the way my own blood drips onto my clothes – while I’m beaten, the thought can’t help but enter my mind that I’m glad Othello never saw me like this... good riddance! And good riddance to his whore of a wife, faithful or not! I remain triumphant as always while they both rot in the ground, metres apart forever. I’ve never heard of a more satisfying fate. If he was to choose to not have me by his side, then he will have no one. The question, however, that I can’t help but ask myself, is why do I still ache? That idiot is dead because of no one’s fault but his own. He failed to recognise my worthiness, pushed me to the side like some sort of wingman, you cannot say my hand was not forced. So why do I ache like so?

If he was alive still, would he regret it? The fool, ending his own life like that... be a man! Othello, you moron, if you by any chance of the heavens can hear me now, you are a fool! Why in any sense of sanity you still held onto would you marry that woman? Did she know you better than I? Did she understand you more deeply than I? Did she stay by your side for god knows how long that put my years of loyalty to shame? I-

Look at me now. Pacing and yelling to the walls of this damned grey cell like some sort of deluded psychotic. No, Othello, you are not here. Good riddance. You are dead and I am alive, and  therefore I am the victor.

It feels less admirable than I had imagined it to feel.

There is no applause in this cell for me. There is a fire burning in my heart but just below it, my stomach is empty as it’ll ever be. My appetite should’ve been quenched the second that knife entered his belly but for some reason it’s getting worse as the days pass. Without him, they pass.

No, good riddance. The days pass as they always did and this time a man who has wronged me is not here to see it – that, in my books, is a cause for celebration. Why, if I was freed right now maybe I’d even go for a trip to the nearest tavern, and brag about my winnings to everyone I can see until my throat is raw.

However, and I truly may hate myself for this, I fear the second I storm in there and open my mouth to speak, the name “Othello” would already be presumed to be on my tongue. Oh, who am I to fool. There is no one here but me. Where his name, when spoken to me, now provokes ire and anger, it did so used to do the opposite. Speak on, I will not, for if there is one thing that I wish to hold on to other than my hand to my bleeding wound it is my dignity. These cracking cell walls, they speak. I should know; I’ve been on the other side of them for the majority of my time here. For Othello’s sake, nonetheless.

The fate he had he brought it on himself. Cassio was his choice? That good for nothing womanizer? If I were Othello I’d have killed myself the second that god-awful decision was made.

And yet, as he was told of my crimes, before he did end his own life so selfishly, I can’t help but wish the red in his face and the regret in his eyes could’ve been for a different reason. The flush of his face, maybe accompanied with my lips on his.

God, spare me! Let someone back into my cell to beat my wounds raw for thinking such a thing, and let my skull be cracked open on the cold, concrete floor for not wanting to take it back.

[rorygilmoreh4ter]

hello everyone

[i-daresay-i-have-too-many]

(pt 1)(pt 2)(pt 3)(RESULTS+superlatives)

[theabigailthorn]

THE PRINCE IS ON NEBULA

If you want to see The Prince it's out NOW on Nebula!

go.nebula.tv/theprince - you'll get a discount if you sign up using that link!

[jawnscoffee]

Summer’s day

okay so *claps* this is a superduper random poem i wrote AGES ago and i just thought imma share it lol (i imagine it from sherlocks pov as a teenager (so teenlock au) after he met john aaaand yeah)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They say I shall compare thee to a summer’s day

-

I think I’d rather not.

“Why?” they ask,

I can’t reply,

Too many words in my throat are stuck.

Thou art more lovely and temperate,

But not in the way a summer’s day is.

I spent so many of those alone,

Yet never felt such bliss.

I never thought I could see the sun from close quarters,

Until you looked at me,

And when I saw you smile and your dimples showed,

My heart caused greater ripples than the sea.

Rough winds may shake the darling buds of may,

But your eyes make me shake more than any storm I’ve ever sensed.

Yet most of all -

I gulp and whisper -

“Day’s are finite,

And I do not ever want you to end.“

tag list (tell me if you want to be removed/added!! especially bc i haven’t posted something in AGES): @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @jobooksncoffee @paulineholmes02 @totallysilvergirl @sunshineinyourmind @calaisreno @sher-lock221b-st @ilovejohnlocksblog @iamjustreading @whodwantmeasaflatmate @snonkerdoodlefizzy221b @nottheweasley @jawnn-watson @keirgreeneyes @sherlockisbored221 @13monkton @catlock-holmes @221beloved @jameshavinganxiety @consultingtribble @meohmycroft @mary-johnlocked @kat987 @macgyvershe @johnlockifconvenient @blogstandbygo @7-percent @writingloud @dw91165 @just-a-fixed-point-in-time @peanitbear @unusuallysubtext @bs2sjh @missdeliadilisblog @grace-in-the-wilderness

[causeofchernobyl]

that one scene in hamlet

Hamlet: yeah we bros, but I’d let you bang me

Horatio: SIR!?

[sapphic-soup-enjoyer]

I wanna wear eyeliner but in the way that Christian borle wears it in something rotten

[cupids-fiction]

happy 408th death day william shakespeare

i liked the little gay ones you wrote

[pridepages]

Romeo: I woke to a toad resting on my cheek. Its little suction cup-fingers precariously close to my eye. Benvolio: Fucking hell... Romeo: No, dear cousin. Hell has nothing to do with this! I am a man in love! Benvolio: Not with the frog, I hope? Mercutio: You're still high. Frog boy, you're high.

[longroadhomesblog]

Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day.

—William Shakespeare, Richard II

[thespianwordnerd]

Just watched the play episode of Rise of the Pink Ladies and I am feeling so so normal about the pilgrim's hands scene again. So so normal.

[pirhanya]

Snippet from the first episode of my Webtoon: Cesario

Eavesdropping gets you… everywhere!

[i-daresay-i-have-too-many]

(pt 1)(pt 3)(pt 4)(RESULTS)

[grayjoy15]

For your macbanquo needs!! The battle husbands are up on Redbubble 🤭

[cannon-writes]

📜 We finalized the cast list for my Shakespeare company’s production of ~Julius Caesar~ today and it always astonishes me how many university students genuinely want to perform Shakespeare. and how many of those people are just absolutely genius actors directing their full power at Shakespeare, of all things. we’re all just a bunch of nerds performing 400 year old plays, but it makes me so happy 📜