#like.... they will always be hamlet and you will always be ophelia. no matter how much you perceive yourself as the hamlet one.

[flowerandblood]

The Downfall (Oneshot)

[ Hamlet • dark Aemond x Ophelia • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, fingering, virgnity loss, violence, suicide, angst, smut, obsession, remorse ]

[ description: When she attracts the attention of Prince Aemond during the wedding feast of his brother and his sister, she knows that something terrible is going to happen. His figure lunges towards her like black storm clouds and she feels that, along with his desire, he will bring on her downfall. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Tis I who should receive this honour. I, second son, rider of the greatest dragon in the world, experienced in wielding the sword, educated in history and philosophy, 'tis I who should…" He didn't finish, pressing his lips into a thin line. He stopped in the middle of his chamber, not looking at her but at the floor, his eye wide open in rage, his nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

She swallowed hard, clenching her fingers on the material of her gown as she sat in one of the chairs at the table, fearful of him as usual when he behaved in this way, making her unsure once again how to act.

To endorse his words would have meant betrayal, so she had to remain silent, though her heart was pounding like mad in her chest, a drop of cold sweat running down the back of her neck.

Their betrothal had come as a surprise to her; the prince had caught sight of her at a grand wedding feast held in honour of his brother and his sister, dancing among dozens of other couples.

She dared not look at him, knowing of the arrangements between the Red Keep and Storm's End, not wanting to ridicule herself by begging like some of the women from respectable houses for his attention.

Apparently that was what made his bright, cold, dangerous eye notice her figure and his sight did not leave her until the end of the evening. At first she thought she was just imagining it, then, however, glancing towards the table standing in front of the Iron Throne she met his gaze, his lips curving into a grin that was disturbing to say the least.

She was terrified.

The next day, her father was asked to extend their stay in the Red Keep and enjoy the King's hospitality, though it was not explained to them for what reason.

She was frightened because she understood what it meant and she never went anywhere alone, always taking a servant with her, having heard numerous stories of what Prince Aegon did to women who caught his eye.

She didn't want to see for herself if his younger brother was the same.

It seemed to her that black clouds had gathered over her, that it was a matter of time when something would happen, and indeed, when she came across him passing through the courtyard during one of his sparring sessions, though she turned her head away, his deep, mocking voice stopped her.

"My Lady."

She swallowed hard, knowing that if she didn't answer anything, if she didn't look at him, she would commit a great discourtesy and offend him.

She couldn't afford it.

Therefore, she turned towards him, looking at the ground, seeing only his legs and waist clad in black leather garments, bowing in front of him.

"Your Highness."

She felt for a moment that her heart stood in her throat, the only thing she could hear around her was the clinking of steel and the voices of servants discussing something with each other behind her back. She saw the legs she was looking at move towards her and she closed her eyes.

"What a scared little bird you are. Hm?" He hummed, his voice soft and teasing at the same time, amused, as if he were speaking to a small child.

She swallowed hard and looked up at him – he towered over her with a smirk that was mysterious and unsettling, his healthy eye bright and wide open, his gaze piercing to the core, his lips swollen and full.

She felt herself grow hot with shame.

What was she supposed to answer to such a question?

The prince cocked his head, apparently ignoring her silence, taking advantage of the fact that they were standing so close to each other, watching her as if she were some curious being he had never seen before.

"I watched you dance last night. Did you feel my gaze lingering on your figure?" He asked, and she swallowed heavily, lowering her gaze, involuntarily betraying herself. The Prince grinned under his breath, seeing her reaction.

"You did." He said and looked to the side, as if he wanted to make sure no one would hear what he was about to say, leaning over her ear. "I will marry you."

She drew in the air loudly, shocked and surprised, freezing for a moment, tense, looking at him with big eyes and shook her head, not understanding how he could say such a thing. He, however, only grinned broadly in a way that made her shudder and stepped away from her, turning to Ser Criston Cole, letting him know that they could continue.

Ser Criston gave her one terrified look that told her everything.

She was doomed.

She didn't tell her father about the prince's words because she was convinced that he was mocking her, wishing for certain that she would succumb to him and spend the night with him only to disappear from his life forever. She knew she couldn't let that happen if she wanted to marry any self-respecting lord and decided she would just stay inside her quarters.

And then their betrothal was announced.

There was a feeling of emptiness in her mind as she looked at him, at the wide, mischievous grin stretched across his face as he sat at the table, while his mother, the Queen, spoke to her of the King's decision, apparently persuaded by his son, wondering how she was supposed to tame such a man, tame such a fiery, unpredictable nature.

She was scared.

To her despair, her father had been invited to take on the role of one of the treasurers under the direct authority of the Small Council, which he welcomed with joy. It meant that their family was to stay in the Red Keep, and her betrothed could slowly clamp his claws around her neck.

He followed her like a wraith, sinking her further and further into his darkness, making her slowly melt into one with him, not knowing where his soul ended and hers began.

On the day he was to see his nephews again years later, she locked herself in her chamber, unwilling to watch this theatre of malice and humiliation, knowing what her betrothed thought of them, how often he mused about slitting their throats or gouging out their eyes to later gift them to his mother.

She knew he was furious, wanting to show her off like a pretty object he had in his possession, but she offered him a passive resistance that drove him to the brink of madness.

She drew in a loud breath as he surprised her by silently sneaking up to her chamber at night – she heard the loud creak of the wood beneath his body as he lay down behind her. His one hand took place on her womb, as if he was already imagining in the back of his mind as it swelled from his seed, the other went under her jaw, stroking her skin warningly, his lips against her ear.

"You're hiding from me. You're avoiding me. You move through the keep like a shadow." He whispered, however there was no threat or frustration in his words, which she felt instead in his hand that slowly clenched around her long neck. She swallowed quietly, looking ahead at the night, starry sky outside the window.

She did not answer him.

She rarely used words in his presence.

Unfortunately, this only deepened the state she aroused in him.

A curiosity bordering on obsession.

She tilted her head back and sighed involuntarily, feeling the tickling heat spilling over her lower abdomen as his moist, full lips ran over her cheek, the tip of his tongue leaving a wet, cool trail on her hot skin.

"– I needed you –" He hissed in a trembling voice, pressing his body against hers from behind, his hard, swollen manhood hidden under the material of his breeches pushed against her buttocks, pulsing steadily. Her nipples hardened at his words, a shiver of fear and excitement ran down her spine.

His hand from her womb slid lower, between her thighs, his fingers closed on her womanhood – she knew how he learned these tricks, knew that he had played with whores before he met her, but she couldn't convince herself that she particularly cared.

The delicacy and uncertainty of the movements of his fingers did not match how she perceived him: apparently it seemed to him that one too aggressive gesture on his part and she would fall apart in his hands.

Thus, he merely teased her through the material of her nightgown, waiting as usual for her breath to grow heavy and ragged, for her buttocks to begin to rock to the flicks of his wrist and rub against his throbbing erection.

They both moaned quietly as his hand impatiently lifted the material of her long robe, seeking the warmth between her thighs and finally found it, her pulsing, swollen slit leaking from her sticky wetness.

The fingers of his hand from her neck rose higher, to her cheeks, closing on it in a rough gesture, forcing her to turn her face in his direction – she didn't resist him as his slick tongue burst deep between her lips, as his mouth pressed against hers with a loud, lewd click in a greedy, ravenous kiss that took her breath away.

She let him do whatever he wanted with her lips – he was sucking, licking and biting them, as if he were some kind of animal that had grabbed its prey and wasn't going to let her go until he devoured her.

She didn't care, because her mind seemed to be muffled, as if she was underwater, focused only on the touch of his fingers as they dug into her puffy, delicate folds, teasing again and again her warm, pulsing slit.

Her body tensed like a string, knowing what he was about to do, and then at last the tips of his fingertips broke into her hot, throbbing interior with a quiet click of her moisture.

She moaned a tad too loudly into his mouth, making him sigh deeply into her throat, freezing for a moment, his hard erection slapping impatiently against her buttocks.

"– fuck –" He gasped, startling her completely, letting her go and turning her onto her back, laying on top of her, looking at her with his mouth parted wide, breathing heavily.

She had thought that, as was his custom, he would just simply take out his manhood and make her squeeze it with her hand, touching her at the same time to give her fulfillment.

He, however, after he untied the material of his breeches, grabbed her nightgown with his hands and lifted it above her thighs, making her voice froze in her throat, her hands clasped helplessly on his shoulders.

"– n-no – no, please –" She muttered, knowing that if he took her maidenhood, took what he desired, he would never marry her, would send her and her father back to where they came from humiliated and ridiculed.

"– I need this – I need to feel you –" He breathed out, as if he was in some kind of frenzy, heedless of her helpless attempts to stop him, forcing her to spread her thighs open. She cried out, tilting her head back and closed her eyes as she felt the fat head of his cock begin to push against her swollen slit.

"– no – please, Aemond, please –" She whimpered, raising her trembling hands to his cheeks, stroking his jaw, trying to give him what he wanted, what he was apparently dreaming of in his black, grim mind.

"– you don't understand –" He growled, in a sharp, impatient motion trying to slide deeper into her, opening her little cunt on his throbbing, long erection. "– I fucking needed you today –"

She whined as he forced his way deeper into her body, filling her so much that she felt like he was going to tear her apart from the inside, clenching her fingers against the material of his leather tunic, shocked at how foreign, frightening, painful and exciting this sensation was.

"– I know – I know, just a little bit more – it's almost in – shhhh –" He hushed her, stroking her head with his broad hand as he thrusted his thick root all the way in into her, one last cry of effort left her lips.

She seemed to feel him with her whole being, breathing loudly through her mouth, feeling like she was suffocating, her heart pounding like mad, her whole body quivering in his arms, his lips placing warm, moist, reassuring kisses on her cheek.

"– thaaat's it – there we go – I'm going to start moving now –" He hummed, in a slow, lazy manner beginning to rock with his hips, sliding out of her a little and sliding back in with a quiet click, trying to force her body to adapt to his shape and receive him with greater ease.

He hugged her face to the hollow of his neck, without accelerating or making sudden movements, letting her fingers tighten vulnerably on his back.

"– good girl – calm down and let me fill you with my seed –" He whispered, as if he wanted to soothe her, to reassure her that he took no pleasure in her discomfort and suffering, even though he himself was the cause of it.

She nodded, not having the strength to stand up to him, breathing loudly to relax, to endure what he wanted to do to her. A low, loud groan of pleasure erupted from his lips when he felt it, and his thrusts became a little more sure, deep, loud.

"– g-gods –" She breathed out, feeling with horror that he was teasing a spot inside her from which shivers ran through her, waves of cold terror and hot pleasure surging through her body, causing a complete void in her mind, all she could focus on was the wooden canopy of the bed above her head.

"– yes – ah – so fucking wet for me – all warm and soft –" He breathed out into her ear, licking her hot cheek with his tongue, pounding into her with sharp, deep thrusts of his hips, making her feel the tickle in her lower abdomen, in her puffy lips and in her hard nipples, the bed beneath them beginning to creak loudly.

She felt the familiar hot tension building within her, the tension that he aroused in her when he touched her with his fingers, that, to her despair, she began to take pleasure from this animalistic, simple act of slapping their naked, sweaty bodies against each other.

She tilted her head back and sighed as she let her hips tentatively begin to rock to his thrusts, her hands slid from his back to his bare buttocks, stroking them. He shuddered all over and groaned, blindly seeking her mouth with his own, joining her in a sticky, messy, loud kisses, licking and sucking her lips.

"– yes – yes, just like that, fuck, little one, fuck, fuck, fuckkk –" He gasped, pressing his forehead to hers, slamming into her so quickly and aggressively that he was barely sliding out of her, his thighs slapping against her buttocks again and again, opening her wide on his fat cock.

They both were moaning shamelessly, looking at each other wide-eyed with their mouths open, listening to the shameless, sticky sounds her slick cunt made with each of his thrusts.

"– just a little more – ah – f-fuck, yes –" He groaned in elation, his final, deep, sloppy thrusts prolonging the inevitable, she heard and understood little as a wave of pleasure shook her and something hot spilled deep inside her, their mingled wetness ran down her buttocks.

"– such a good girl –" He gasped, throbbing inside her for a moment longer, filling her with the remains of his spend.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled, feeling her little cunt clamp down on his half-hard manhood, sucking it inside her again and again.

He fell on top of her without strength, panting heavily, and they both remained silent for long time. She finally heard him swallow hard, not even daring to look at her, his face sunk into the hollow of her neck.

"– will you forigve me, little bird? –" He muttered in a weak, deep, trembling voice.

At his question a single tear of sadness, regret and emptiness ran from the corner of her eye down to the side of her face, falling onto his forehead.

He felt it and lifted himself on his arm, wanting to look at her, but what he saw apparently made something inside him break.

He clamped his eyelid shut, swallowed hard and pressed his body against hers, burying his face in the pillow.

She didn't know why her hand lifted and laid on his head, stroking his hair with gentle, calm movements, why she felt a squeeze in her heart, why she wanted to comfort him.

Why she let him stay with her that night, cuddled into to her as if he were a small child.

And then the King died.

Her betrothed walked into her chamber the next day, pale, not looking into her eyes, twitching all over, as if in shock.

"My father is dead…" He began, and her mouth opened wide, looking at him in horror.

"… and my grandfather demands that I marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters."

She stared at him dully, feeling her heart stop in her chest, her stomach twisting in pain as if she was about to vomit.

"I admitted to my grandfather what I did to you. I refused to let him send you away. You will become a Septa. You will be safe and retain your dignity I wrongfully took from you." He said and flinched hard as she grinned at his words, looking at her in disbelief.

"Do you think I'm surprised? I knew you wouldn't keep your word the day I saw you."

It seemed to her that something in her words broke him, for his lower lip began to tremble without the participation of his free will, his eye turned red, his nostrils twitched in heavy, accelerated breathing.

He was unable to get anything out of himself.

On the evening of the day before she was to leave the Red Keep, she demanded that a bath be prepared for her.

She knew he would come to her, she knew his conscience would not let her go without a farewell, she knew he would want to take her one more time before he abandoned her once and for all.

When she was left alone she slipped under the water, sinking her head into it as well, and closed her eyes, feeling strangely calm as the air stopped flowing into her lungs, a shudder shook her body indicating that some part of her still wanted to live.

It was said afterwards that the prince had found her and pulled her out of the water, that he had sobbed and wailed over her bare body, that he had locked her in his embrace, not allowing anyone to come near her, kneeling with her cuddled into his chest on the cold stone floor.

It was said that after that evening he stopped to speak and leave his chamber, staring dully into the fire for hours, playing between his fingers with a lock of her hair, the only memento he had left of her.

It was said that the prince's heart had died with her.

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #dark aemond #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #dark aemond targaryen #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond x female #aemond x female character #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic #hotd smut #hotd angst #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell angst

[isan0rt]

I feel like I haven't really seen the fe3h fandom talk too much about how clearly Azure Moon is an adaptation of Hamlet. Like not even subtly Hamlet (like, see, he's the lion king, get it, haha, because... It's Hamlet).

Dimitri is obvious; he's the prince whose uncle has become king, due to a conspiracy he's trying to uncover, spurred on by his murdered father's restless ghost. Pursuing this vengeance drives him mad, and he becomes increasingly erratic as vengeance continues to escape him.

Dedue is Horatio; Hamlet's best friend (but one he met more recently than his other friends), always at his side and loyal no matter how far Hamlet falls, but formal with him right up until Hamlet dies for his revenge. Crimson Flower Dedue practically delivers the "Goodnight, sweet prince" line in the game if you defeat him before he can transform himself.

The rest spends a lot of effort making subversions; Rufus is Claudius, and this is played straight in Three Hopes, where Dimitri gets justice before he loses his mind and so he never reaches the depths of despair he does in Azure Moon. But in Three Houses this gets subverted; Rufus is still actually the Claudius, but Dimitri has miscast Edelgard in the role. This also allows Patricia to serve as Gertrude, forcing Dimitri to grapple with whether his (step)mother was complicit in his father's murder and whether she has more loyalty to the murderer than to him. Rufus then shifts into the Polonius role, as it's after his death (allegedly at the hand of Dimitri himself) that everything starts going to shit.

Felix, meanwhile, I think is Laertes (with Glenn and Rodrigue serving as Ophelia and Polonius for him (side side note I personally think Glenn was one of Dimitri's first crushes but that's neither here nor there)). The death of one curdles Laertes's positive childhood friendship feelings towards Hamlet (and Felix towards Dimitri) and then the death of the second fully solidifies Laertes's feeling that Hamlet must be stopped.

In Azure Moon, this gets subverted, in that Dimitri reverses course here, where Hamlet doubles down. As a result, Laertes turns his sword against Hamlet, while Felix returns to a shaky companionship with Dimitri. But crucially, if Felix does get recruited to other routes and turns his sword against Dimitri, he basically cannot have a happy ending - the same way Laertes dies for turning against Hamlet.

I don't have a snappy conclusion or anything (are Ingrid and Sylvain Rosencrantz and Guildenstern? Unclear) but I think it's fascinating.

#fe3h #fire Emblem Three Houses #azure moon #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #blue Lions #spoilers for Hamlet ig

[yowlthinks]

12 Months of Shakespeare: Hamlet (2009)

Finally watched Hamlet with DT and Patrick Stewart!

- DT is so young there, at the beginning there seems to be a lot of similarity with his delivery of Benedick there, in his more vulnerable moments, then once spoke to the ghost you cab suddenly see the decisiveness and mad understanding and formulation of a plan come through, which is quite reminiscent of the Doctor and frankly a little scary.

- The scene where he scorns Ophelia is so sad... Apart from the obvious compassion for Ophelia and sadness for Hamlet, it made me think how an old man's meddling into the affairs of his daughter and the Prince has actually robbed him of the solutions to a lot of problems. Had Hamlet been allowed to develop a deeper bond with Ophelia, he would have probably come to her not just to say goodbye as he embarked on his quest, but to actually talk to her. He would have been able to share his worries with her and the story would have been a very different one, likely that of conspiracy. Or maybe she would have managed to get him to reconsider (although, I do think it unlikely). Her marriage prospects were quite good, but now the Prince has repeatedly told her to go to a nunnery, so again, not amazing news for the father who probably would have quite liked her to be Queen. Point is: don't meddle into other people's love affairs!

- The way in which Hamlet talks to his school 'friends' vs his actual friend is stunning... the difference is so obvious, it seems like you can see his heart breaking from betrayal in real time.

-DT in a crown. Damn, he is stunning! He wears one in Richard II, he puts one on in Hamlet and while he looks exceptionally royal / princely these are two very different qualities to it, the mood is different, the characters are very different and so the impression of DT in the crown while always amazing is so different. The only thing in common is the undertone of fragility in both roles, I think this is really makes the delivery. In fact, it is perhaps what makes DT such a good actor: you can feel that internal softer core, that fragility in his roles. It may be closer to or further from the surface, but it is always there, and god, it makes me want to cry.

- Patrick Stewart is acing it too as the Ghost and the King's brother. His acting style is quite different, but what he does with his eyes... wow.

- When Ophelia goes mad after the death of her father... it is silly, really, but I have never thought of it as a parallel / mirror. They are both striken by grief at the death of their murdered fathers, but their approaches to dealing with it are different: Hamlet seeks to right the wrongs, his anger and despair is not so much for his father, but for the way his memory is treated by those he thought loyal. For Ophelia it is just grief, she has noone to lean on, no action she wants to persue, she goes mad with it... again, back to the point of having someone close on whom she could lean would have made her story so different.

- Hamlet and Horatio - I really liked the dynamic there

- It is silly that having seen multiple Hamlets over the years I always forget how exactly it ends. Somehow this again was a surprise (as in, I knew that Hamlet dies, I was just surprised that so does everyone else!)

Overall, I really liked it, certainly one of the best productions I have ever seen. It was touching and again, surprising how much it made me feel, given that I know the play and have seen it before. The acting was phenomenal, the staging... I am still unclear how they filmed it and what it looked like in the theatre, but it doesn't matter, I enjoyed it a lot. A definite 9/10, maybe even 9,5.

#hamlet #david tennant #12 months of Shakespeare #notes as I go

[lizardrosen]

You Speak Like A Green Girl, Unsifted In Such Perilous Matters

Bridgertons performing Hamlet, part two, for @avocado-moon and @glintglimmergleam - this one's all about Ophelia (part one)

One difference Benedict notices right away between the warnings Laertes and Polonius give to Ophelia is that Laertes is looking after Ophelia’s heart and doesn’t think that Hamlet is just using her for fun only to abandon her later; while Polonius talks about “my daughter and your honor,” the implication being that she’s to naive to understand what she’s doing and anything she does will reflect badly on him. Laertes does warn her about gossip and how it’ll turn anything into a scandal no matter how innocent, but it’s not necessarily a moral judgment. He also has sympathy for Hamlet’s position, or at least understands that as a prince he can’t always carve for himself.

Out of this, Benedict creates a Laertes who wants his sister to make the most of life as long as she’s cautious and accepts that there are rules even when she chooses to skirt them. Maybe he waves an issue of Whistledown on “the chariest maid is prodigal enough” and Eloise stifles a snort. He also privately believes that Laertes speaks from personal experience about Hamlet, but he’s not about to try to get Anthony in on that backstory, not when he can’t even be sure Anthony believes Hamlet and Horatio are together. (Hyacinth does believe it, but she lets the language of firm handshakes and hearty slaps on the back and knowing nods speak for her, she doesn’t need it much more explicit than that)

Eloise asks Anthony what exactly is going on when Hamlet comes to Ophelia in her closet. “I see what the words are, of course, stockings fouled, downgyved to his ankles, he sighs and nods and leaves without a word, but that doesn’t really tell me what Ophelia’s describing, does it? How does he do all this and more importantly, why?” She interrupts herself almost as soon as she’s stopped talking. “Ah, no, the most important question, how much of this little charade did he plan from the start? What on earth is going through his mind, Anthony?”

He’s never really thought too hard about it, truth be told. He’s treated it as background information, just the first performance to set the scene for everyone to believe Hamlet has no idea what he’s doing so it can’t be anything worth paying attention to. Somehow, hearing the question phrased as what he had planned, a different answer comes to him and he knows it’s true — at least for this Hamlet and this Ophelia, at this time and place. A year from now he may answer differently; that’s how Hamlet is.

“He was going to tell her about his father’s ghost,” says Anthony. “He hasn’t even told Horatio yet, he’s just been driving himself half-mad trying to figure out what to do, and probably hasn’t changed his stockings for a few days, certainly hasn’t bothered to brush his hair — you’d know all about that, El, wouldn’t you?”

“Ha ha.” she says without humor.

“And then he thinks ‘Ophelia will think of something’ and goes looking for her right away. It’s too sensitive to trust with writing, with her father’s servants how they are — not that she’s been reading what he has to say — so it has to be in person and it has to be now, before he loses his nerve.”

“So did he tell her? It’ll change almost everything if she’s in on it with him and telling Polonius what he needs to believe. Or did he lose his nerve?”

“I wouldn’t say he lost his nerve, exactly, but he opened the door without knocking — sorry — and saw her sitting there just looking so normal. What do you suppose Ophelia was sewing anyway?”

“Not embroidering violets,” says Eloise emphatically. “That’s so obvious it’s practically trite. I think… adding pockets to all her dresses, big enough for a notebook or two.”

“Oh, naturally!” he laughs, because that’s such a perfectly Eloise answer. “He looks at Ophelia with her pockets, tongue sticking out like she always does when she’s concentrating, and it feels like they’re living in completely different worlds. He can’t drag her into the conspiracy he’s gotten caught up in, but he can’t go back to pretending he’s a part of her world either, so…”

“So what Ophelia describes to her father is a goodbye,” she says, thinking of that awful fight with Penelope, “And she might not even know it.”

“Right. It’s not what Hamlet expected either, or he would have been better prepared.” Anthony shakes away an image of himself knocking on the door of Siena’s latest gentleman with an armful of flowers. “But he’s there in front of her and he doesn’t get a do-over. He can’t even speak to give her an explanation, he just holds her hand and tries to memorize everything about that moment before he leaves it behind.”

“No wonder she’s so affrighted; a sigh with so much behind it must have felt like the world was ending. There’s good news, though,” Eloise adds with a wicked grin. “They get a do-over after all, it’s just forced on them by their awful parents and makes everything worse for both of them.”

“Hooray! No communication, only disaster!”

“By the by, I do intend to scream back at you in that scene, at least as much as you yell at me.”

“Yes, well, Hamlet deserves it,” he says with a small grin.

Almost anyone could play Reynaldo, the spy Polonius sends after Laertes in France, so the question becomes: who’s most likely to tattle on Benedict for something he might not even have done. Eloise would notice what he’s up to, but usually keeps it to herself unless it’s funnier to call him out at the worst time, and he keeps too many of her secrets for her to make something up to get him in trouble. Besides, Ophelia enters right after Rey exits, so Hyacinth gets to play Reynaldo instead.

Reynaldo is left out a lot of the time because he’s really the B-plot at most, or he’s combined with Osric because they both carry gossip in plot-relevant ways, which is a sensible enough double-casting. However, Rey also keeps an eye out for Laertes the way Horatio looks out for Ophelia after Polonius dies, so it’s a nice connection. She plays Voltemand, the ambassador to Norway, for similar reasons — an outsider wherever she goes, carrying news across borders.

Hyacinth’s Reynaldo is quiet and polite and refers to a little notebook with Polonius’s previous instructions, but after she’s firmly told her employer goodbye for the second time, she just walks away and stops paying attention as only a youngest sister can do, and then Polonius doesn’t notice Ophelia and her distress at first, but he does genuinely comfort her and keeps the lines about the different temperaments of youth and age.

#the viscount's men #hamlet #bridgerton #shakespeare #laertes #ophelia #reynaldo #polonius #my writing

[writers-hq]

Good morrow and well met, for we have scraped together 8 of the dirtiest bawdy (bardy) moments from ol' Shakey-pants' work.

Don't act so surprised. It's always been about the dick jokes, y'all. Do you know us but at all?

So, adjust your ruff, pull up your cross-gartered stockings, and let's get the fuck into it.

1. Much Ado About Nothing

Right from the title we’re dealing in double entendres. ‘Nothing’ is Elizabethan slang for vagina so it basically means: “a lot of fuss about pussy”. Cool. 

Then almost immediately, our first introduction to one of the protagonists alludes to him being a walking venereal disease: “If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere a' be cured.” 

In return, Benedick swears he will never “hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick” and on it goes for 5 acts. Even BeneDICK’s eventual declaration of love includes a sex pun. “I will live in thy heart, die (orgasm) in thy lap, and be buried in your eyes.” Stay classy, guys. 

2. Romeo & Juliet

Just your regular tween romance in which thirteen-year-old Juliet monologues repeatedly about how much she wants to get Ro-Ro into her bed. Even the classic ‘a rose by any other name’ speech includes the line: “nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor any other part belonging to a man” fnar fnar. 

Oh, and she also dies (slang for orgasm) asking for his ‘happy dagger’ to rust inside her ‘sheath’. Yeah yeah, it’s a tragedy, but it’s also sex ‘n’ death right to the end.

3. Twelfth Night

Malvolio is the king of (accidental?) debauchery. While reading a (forged) letter from the lady he fancies, he declares: “By my life, this is my lady’s hand. These be her very C’s, her U’s and (N) her T’s, and thus makes she her great P’s.” Yes, that is how you spell **** and we’ll let you figure out the P bit. 

He’s also responsible for the most misquoted line by wannabe motivational speakers everywhere: “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness THRUST upon ‘em.” 

Yes, he’s talking about his dick.

4. Hamlet

To be or not to be whatever, but just imagine trying to sneak ‘c*ntry matters’ past the censors today:

HAMLET: Lady, shall I lie in your lap? OPHELIA: No, my lord. HAMLET: I mean, my head upon your lap. OPHELIA: Ay, my lord. HAMLET: Do you think I mean country matters? OPHELIA: I think nothing, my lord. HAMLET: That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs

Reminder that ‘nothing’ also means vagina. That’s a double whammy in the space of 7 lines. Kudos, sir. 

5. Sonnet 20

Elizabethans loved a nice bit of androgyny, and never more so in this poem whereby Shakey talks in detail about how his (male) patron is soooo pretty and delicate and feminine AF and he’s super totally into that even though nature added ‘one thing to my purpose nothing’ (psst he’s talking about the guy’s cock) and ‘prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure’ (still talking about cock) but that’s ok cos all the laydeez will ‘use’ his ‘treasure’ (cock). 

Mm hmm. 

Cue all the old man scholars arguing for several hundred years that there was absolutely nothing gay about any of this lol bless.

6. The Taming of the Shrew

An otherwise irredeemable play contains this arse-licking zinger: 

PETRUCHIO: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. KATHARINA: In his tongue. PETRUCHIO: Whose tongue? KATHARINA: Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. PETRUCHIO: What, with my tongue in your tail?

No further comments, your honour.

7. Henry V

Ok, buckle in for some Franglaise as the French Princess Catherine practices her English in preparation for marrying Henry, mispronouncing various body parts in a hilarious display of casual xenophobia. But the tables turn beautifully and profanely when she asks her maid the English word for ‘robe’ and is told ‘coun’ (gown) which sounds a lot like… uh… See you next Tuesday. 

Yep. Shakespeare really got the future queen of England to say c*nt live on stage. Bravo.

8. Titus Andronicus

Aaaaand possibly the first recorded ye olde yo mama joke: 

CHIRON: Thou hast undone our mother. AARON: Villain! I hath done thy mother!

Boom boom. Because he had sex wtih her. It’s about sex. It’s a sex joke. Okay cool. Bye. 

#shakespeare #dick jokes #much ado about nothing #romeo & juliet #twelfth night #hamlet #sonnet 20 #the taming of the shrew #henry V #titus andronicus

[sleepdepravity]

visual/sound novel games list from that obscure games list i made earlier

i was contemplating whether i should just reblog the "mystery games" list post instead of making these their individual posts, but then i realized, i think reblogs with read mores will just uncollapse all the read mores in the entirep ost, so that would make the posts super long. here are the visual/sound novel games.

uhhhhh this one may not actually be a visual novel. I think i put it there initially because there's a lot of chatting with people and relationships, but actually, there's also a lot of walking and looking at stuff (my favorite) anyways, the ending made me super cry a lot. I lvoe AIs. there's a very good AI in this game and it makes me super sad, i cried a lot at the ending choice. i love the AI.

i am so surprised about how few reviews there are of this game??? like less than 2k. I'm very surprised because, like, this is a major player in the history of sound novels, isn't it????? like! a big name guy!!! it's very fun. There are mulitple characters, you can hop around to all of them as they do their concurrent things, and it's very fun and funny to see how each of their lives intertwine. And also it's fun to see how some of these people end up being a lot more connected than you think. also, choices you make as other people will affect what happens to other people. also, there are many bad ends. actually....i think the creators of this game is somehow tied to kamaitachi no yoru??? which was also fun and good.

i count this as a visual novel because the only gameplay is sorting food. It's a papers please-esque game. Anywyas, i am "bad" at dystopia games because no matter what, i always play my character as "guy who keeps their head down and doesn't rebel." like, i don't even replay to try other endings. i just tend to play a game once, and the ending i get is the ending i get. i feel like when you play dystopia games you're "supposed" to try to fight the system or something, but, like. i don't want to stick out, guys. i truly don't. I won't report people, i won't snitch, but i also won't. like. disobey the system outright. Sorting food was interesting, though.

this one i remember being a visual novel about AIs or robots or something. also another dystopian thing. uhhhhhh. i sort of forget what happens, but you do fortune-telling shit with these people, and you can affect what these people do based on what order you place the divination sigils, and i think that's neat. fun visuals too. I really like how people are shaded and colored.

TIME LOOP HAMLET TIME LOOP HAMLET YOU PLAY AS OPHELIA AND YOU'RE IN A TIME LOOP IT'S HAMLET TIME LOOP TIME I AM IN SUCH FUCKIN AWE THAT, LIKE, THIS GAME DOESN'T AHVE MORE REVIEWS OR ATTENTION? YOU!!! PLAY AS OHPELIA!!! IN A TIME LOOP!!!!!! therea re multipel endings. it's fun. i think it's fun. i'm not sure that this should be in this category now that i think about it, but oh well.

i, honestly kinda don't really know how to describe this game. it's definitely visual novel. it has good vibes and music, dynamic camera work. it's interesting. there are multiple side stories as well. it's a story about death and the afterlife and passing on and clinging to life.

I think some of the most interesting games are when you're just some guy encountering multiple people just going about their lives, but also sometimes the people are very much connected to each other in neat ways. This is another one of those cyberpunk type stories that explore tech and privacy and all that jazz. y'know?

I played this on mobile previously. I'm a little surprised that it doesn't have more attention on steam, but maybe it got most of its audience on mobile? i dunno. I think this one is fun in terms of the different ways you have to try to get away with murder, managing time and different people and trying to hide evidence or trying to find out dirt on other people and planting evidence on them and such.

I really like the art style on this, and i think the "conversation through cards" mechanic is interesting. this is the sort of game where you drive around to places and talk to people. vroom vroom. i like journeying around sometimes. i like collecting junk to put in a shop. the art style is very much neat, though. i really enjoyed the art style.

There's five parts to this, i believe. I think this actually is based off an actual choose your own adventure book? I'm not sure how closely it follows the book, but i think i found it quite fun, actually. just in terms of the different paths you can take, and what things you can find and pick up and the different ways you can use them. also, the art is nice! The sound design was nice. Ambient sounds got used a lot for this one to good effect. the sound that happens when you start a spell is very nice.

i believe i played this one on mobile too? i think it's possible this one might be better played on mobile, potentially. unsure. but 1. i remember thinking that this one did some very fun things with text and playing around with the way you read, metatext, puzzles, etc. Also, at the end of it, there's a thing you can do where you. email, the developers? i guess? and you get to do a shrot little roleplay with them about the ending of the game. i remember sending them the email and wondering if, like, too much time had passed for them to even respond, because i think it had been at least a year since the release? and i was like "nahhh...they wouldn't just keep monitoring that email forever, right?" but then they responded. i don't know if they will still respond. i don't think it's automated. the person who responded to me seemed very nice.

#malky plays games #i'm kinda getting sleepy and loopy tbh. #hopefully this still is coherent #obscure game recs

[cithaerons]

a lot of men aren’t going to see women as three dimensional or equally intelligent, no matter what.... It sucks, it really does, but that’s how it is.

#like.... they will always be hamlet and you will always be ophelia. no matter how much you perceive yourself as the hamlet one. #you will never be a person with depth to them... it doesn't matter what you do or how much you try to prove that you are. #tbt the same undergrad crush - who i had lost almost all of my respect for over the next two years - told my roommate our other friend who #is brilliant but very bubbly and friendly and unpretentious but VERY smart has 'nothing going on in her head' my god i could have gone over #there and killed him. #the last nail in his fucking coffin #he also dated said roommate for several months ended up being horribly abusive just a general piece of shit

[but-a-dust]

It's nonsensical, but hear me out:

a film entitled probably Horatio following the story of Horatio slowly falling into insanity after Hamlet's death. the story is hard to be placed in time, but probably happens around XIX century, with Hamlet having been some kind of aristocrat and Fortinbras - an heir to his fortune, thanks to some close yet unexplained ties to Claudius. no specific explanation as to why does it happen, it just happens.

the story opens with Horatio's voice from off reciting the beginning of Sheakespeare's Sonnet 18 (shall I compare thee to a summer day?) as we see Elsinore, a beautiful manor surrounded by clearings and trees, in the daylight. the main plot of the story is how Horatio tries to write his memories of Hamlet and their story together into a book. there is dozens of strange and seemingly unimportant scenes, which can turn extremely symbolical. for instance, there is a repeating motive of Horatio wearing a violet flower crown, Fortinbras keeps on building houses of cards etc.

least to say, Horatio is traumatized. he can't forget about what happened to his lover. it's mentioned and shown multiple times. there's a scene in which Fortinbras invites Horatio to have a fencing match and Horatio falls into panic as he takes the dagger. he drops it on the ground and cries out something like "i cannot fight with that", remembering Hamlet's ill-fated fight with Laetres. many times, Horatio repeats things Hamlet said to him, both these which we know from the play and these unknown. there is, for instance, much emphasis put on the story about how they confessed their love for each other, and how Horatio told Hamlet "i wish we could become one and never separate", or something similar.

almost as often as that, we see his flashback of many different moments he spent with Hamlet. these are both sweet, beautiful whiles and dark, foreboding moments. there's a long sequence with flashback about a situation back in Wittenberg: Hamlet plays some melody on violin and Horatio embraces him gently, and they both look at the sky. this melody later on appears in many important scenes, either as background music or a song sung by a character.

also, the story is being constantly interrupted by Horatio's dreams and hallucinations, in which he is placed in situations Hamlet was in: murder of Polonius, snapping at Ophelia, pretending to be insane. what's strange, in these sequences Fortinbras almost always takes place of Claudius. we see him as Claudius praying and Horatio - as Hamlet - leaning over him with a dagger, we see him as he pours the poison into the cup, we see him as he writes letter to king of England. Horatio, after almost all of these situations, just sits in place for some time, talking to the empty room, implying he sees a ghost (and, of course, adresses him as sweet lord), and then starting to hum the melody Hamlet played on violin.

at the end of the story, Horatio brings the finished book to Fortinbras and wants him to read it. Fortinbras reads a few pages, starts laughing and tells Horatio something like "i'm sorry, Horatio, but this book shouldn't ever see the daylight, for it is just wrong. no matter if Hamlet was insane or not, now he's dead and can't answer this question, so i'll speak in his favor: he was mad as a hatter and as such murdered his entire family, including Claudius, who was so desperate to help him. now, i'll do you a favour and burn this book myself" - as he rips out a few pages and throws them at Horatio's feet before turning around and leaving the room. Horatio picks up the pages, completly devastated with how his entire mission was failed. the ripped pages describe how Hamlet died in Horatio's arms. the moment when Hamlet told him to be there when he'll be gone. to be, because he cannot be anymore.

Horatio reads them and gets up at his feet. he takes a dagger into his hand, looks in the mirror and cuts off his ponytail, which resembles breaking who he used to be. we VERY briefly see the reflection of Hamlet and Horatio's face is not shown as he runs after Fortinbras. the scene glithes with the sequence of Hamlet approaching Claudius after learing about the poison. dramatic, yet beautiful version of the violin melody plays in the background whilst Horatio finally run to Fortinbras and tackles him from the behind.

Fortinbras realizes what is happening just in the last second, turns his head and calls out, shocked "lord H-?!" before his scream is cut shortly. we have a glimpse at Horatio's face and then we realize it's not Horatio anymore. his insanity has taken over. we can't even say if it's Horatio or Hamlet anymore: they're truly one, never separated. music completly silences Fortinbras screaming, camera moves away and we just watch a book which has fallen out of Fortinbras' hand and now is laying on the floor.

music stops eventually. there's a long silence. then, Horatio/Hamlet walks over, picks up the book from the ground, kisses its cover and hugs it to his breast. then, he puts the dagger into Fortinbras' hand, supposedly to make his death look like a suicide, and then walks out.

the story finishes with Horatio/Hamlet laying on a clearing full of violets, still holding that book in hand, and silently reciting the rest of the sonnet, as music silently starts to once again.

#hamratio #hamlet x horatio #hamlet #shakespeare #fortinbras #film #hamlet ideas #book #au #but hear me out #tragic danish boyfriends

[voiceless-terror]

Perchance to Dream

@aspecarchivesweek Day Three: Drinks

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker, Sasha James

Jon comes out to Martin. Twice.

(Ft. Kiss-Averse Jonathan Sims and Hamlet References)

__________

“Ugh, no thank you.”

Martin pauses. Sasha and Tim titter behind their hands.

And Jon, well. He’s got a look of vehement disgust written across his features, not unlike when he’s laying into what he claims is a fabricated statement. Martin can feel his face turning red at the words.

Getting Jon to come out for drinks had been the hard part. It’s one month into his tenure as Head Archivist, and everyone’s starting to feel the scope of the task ahead of them. Tim thought a ‘monthiversary’ drink was in order, and the only way to get Jon to come out was to threaten him with some sort of ill begotten information, the likes of which Martin couldn’t hear behind the closed door. Ten minutes later, Jon emerged, looking grumpier than usual (and very dashing) with a scarf around his neck. And now he sat next to him in the cozy pub booth, Martin trying very hard to remain stock-still because Jon’s leaning into his side. Perhaps he’s cold? Either way, Martin isn’t going to discourage it. 

But then he’d had a few drinks and they all loosened up; even Jon’s laugh came easier. And Martin- well, Martin’s opening up a bit more than usual, chattering about his time in the library and bolstered by the smiles he receives in turn. Tim changed track to the personal, regaling them with his latest outdoor adventure while Sasha and Jon gave witty, sarcastic commentary. But then Tim directed the conversation towards him, and they seemed relatively interested in his poetry. He even felt comfortable enough to rattle out a few lines from his phone in a desperate hope to impress, and he stupidly chose one that referenced ‘lips like a rosebud’ and Jon reacts like he’s read a particularly saucy bit of a smut novel aloud. How embarrassing. 

“Whew,” Tim whistles lowly, folding his arms behind his neck with an exaggerated wince. “Harsh, boss.”

“No, that’s not it,” Jon says, shaking his head and putting a hand on Martin’s arm. Putting a hand on Martin’s arm. Putting a hand- “Martin, your poetry is fine, if a bit derivative.” Jon thinks his poetry is fine and he’s got his small, fine-boned hand on Martin’s arm and god, he’s got a poem about that too, somewhere in his phone-

Tim guffaws, slamming a hand on the table and startling Sasha. “What a compliment!”

“It’s just…kissing. Lips. Ugh.” Jon smashes his fork rather violently into a dumpling, sending bits of food flying across the table, one of which hit Tim directly above his eye. “I eat with my mouth.”

“Wise observation.”

“Very astute of you.”

Martin would join in on the banter but Jon’s hand is still on his arm and his warm weight is pressing into his side. Honestly, what’s Jon playing at? He could rip the poetry to shreds in front of him but as long as that hand remains on his arm he’d just sit there, not saying a word. Hell, he’d probably even agree.

“So the bossman doesn’t like kisses,” Tim says, taking an obnoxiously loud sip of whatever fruity beverage he’d decided on. “Is that why you ripped down all of my mistletoe back in research?”

Jon. Mistletoe. Hand still on arm.

“I don’t like any of it,” Jon says, removing his hand from Martin’s arm to make a decisive gesture across the table which nearly sent his drink flying. He instantly misses the pressure but the warmth is still there, burning through his sleeve. Jon looks incredibly drunk, now that Martin’s got a better angle to view his flushed cheeks and bright eyes and lips- “All that touching. I don’t understand why everyone’s so hung up on it. No thank you, not for me.”

A brief flash of understanding lights Sasha’s eyes but Martin’s not in a place to decipher it. He’s not sure if it’s the drink or the Jon-of-it-all that’s impeding him. He’s never seen him so relaxed, so animated about something that’s not work. He can’t even focus on the words coming out of Jon’s mouth at the moment.

But Sasha leans forward- once she’s got an idea in her head, she won’t let go until she’s seen it through. Martin recognizes that look. “You’re asexual, then?”

“Mm,” Jon mumbles, his head tilting back dangerously as he puts on an affected, exaggerated voice. “Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither.”

And then Martin’s gone, suddenly struck by a vision of teenage Jon, silhouetted on a stage by a dramatic spotlight, reciting Shakespeare like a born thespian- look, Martin despises theater, but even he’s not immune to Hamlet. In a dream world he’d be Ophelia, no, not Ophelia, idiot- maybe he’s a stage hand, or no, he helps Jon with his quick changes, that’s a job, right? So caught up is he in this pseudo-high school fantasy that the words being said don’t actually dawn on him until a full minute later, when Tim’s laughter reaches a crescendo.

“Boss, did you seriously just come out via Shakespeare?”

Jon’s not even denying it, giving a lazy, good-natured smile in response. Fuck. Here he is, having some stupid fantasy over his boss who is very much right next to him and very much not interested. God, is he taking advantage? He jumps to the side, trying desperately to put a few more inches of space between them for Jon’s comfort when that small hand comes back to his arm, the sudden and strong grip stopping him in his tracks. 

“No!” Jon’s voice is low, those dark eyes so intense. Martin can feel his face go scarlet from his gaze alone. “This is nice. I like it.”

Tim and Sasha share an evil little smile and Martin’s out of commission, the night’s revelations and Jon’s insistent snuggling having taken their toll. He couldn’t tell you what happened after that, how many drinks were shared or how he got home. All he remembers is the feel of Jon’s hand on his arm, his insistent closeness, and the sound of his laugh whenever Tim teased him.

The next day Jon comes in late, looking about as bad as the rest of them felt. From the way he interacts with them, it’s likely that he doesn’t even remember last night, what he did or what he said. Martin tries not to let it sting, and goes back to work, knowing there’s a side of Jon that he’ll likely never see again.

__________

“Martin, we have to...talk, if that’s alright.” 

Martin pauses, a lump building in his throat. “Okay.”

He settles in on Daisy’s lumpy couch, trying not to let his apprehension show. It’s been a week since Jon got him out of the Lonely and they’re still adjusting, but Martin likes to think they’re settling into a nice routine. There’s such a natural ease to their domesticity; they had their differences, sure, but he’s never seen the man so soft and unguarded, puttering around the cottage, making sure everything’s nice and comfortable for the two of them. And of course, there’s the bed situation. Only one, like in all the cliché fanfiction Martin had taken to reading back when he lived in the Archives and his biggest problem was worms. Maybe Jon doesn’t want to share anymore? He’s been strangely distant the past day, keeping space between them and hovering about in a nervous manner. He goes back through their interactions, trying to think of what he could’ve done wrong.

Jon sits down next to him, his face showing his own apprehension. “I know we’ve been getting...close, this past week. But if we’re going to ah, have an, er- well, you know, relationship- there’s some things you need to know.” Relationship. Jon thinks they're in a relationship. Martin didn’t want to put a label to it, too afraid it would shatter the fragile trust they built. But to be in a relationship with Jon, well, that’s something he’s always dreamed of, right?

So he relaxes minutely, tries not to show the utter joy he feels at the words. “Alright. What’s up?”

Jon takes a steadying breath, looking so oddly grave that Martin immediately wants to take him into his arms. “I don’t...well, I’m asexual. So I’m not really interested…” he makes a vague gesture down towards Martin’s crotch and then freezes, clearly embarrassed by the crudeness of the action. “I’m not interested in all of...that. Or kissing, for that matter. It’s just a personal boundary for me, if that’s alright.”

Oh. Martin blinks, taking in Jon’s serious countenance and hopeful eyes and while he wants to match it, he can’t control the laughter that bubbles out of his throat. “Oh-oh Jon-”

Jon immediately blanches, his brow furrowing in confusion and probably hurt. “W-What? What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck-it’s, it’s not that, that’s fine, it’s just-” Martin tries desperately to keep his laughter under control and fails. Christ, he can’t breathe. “Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither!” 

“Why are you quoting Shakespeare?” Jon’s looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Perhaps he has.

“Because you did, you daft thing!” Martin’s shoulders shake with the effort of containing himself, and he wipes a tear from his eye. He immediately puts a hand on Jon’s arm, a mirror’s reflection of that night at the bar and yet it’s still his hand that burns. “Jon, it’s fine. I already know. You told us over drinks my first month in the Archives.”

Jon’s face takes on that peculiar look of confusion and concentration that Martin loves, as if he’s searching his mind or maybe even the Eye for information. “I-oh. Oh!” He puts his head in his hands with a groan, ignoring Martin’s comforting pats to the back. “How embarrassing.”

“It was adorable.”

“No it wasn’t,” Jon whines into his hands even as he leans into Martin’s touch.

“It was,” Martin assures him, drawing him close to his side and letting him lean his head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I laughed- you were just so serious, I couldn’t help it-”

“Yes, well,” Jon sighed, settling into his arms, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “It’s fine. As long you’re alright with…”

“More than alright.” It’s Jon, of course it’s alright. Being here with him, in their little shabby oasis- well, it’s more than enough. They sit there in silence for some time, Martin enjoying the closeness of the man he’d fought so hard to protect finally in his arms. He’s starting to think they just might be alright. He smiles to himself, perching his chin on top of Jon’s head.

“To be or not to be-”

“Shut up, Martin.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741983

#my writing #aspecarchives #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #asexual jonathan sims #cw drinking #gratuitous use of hamlet #the gay agenda

[solarwonux]

36. “I’m not naming our child after a book character, let alone from my least favorite book.” “Why not?”

37. “I think you’ve had enough to drink today.”

husband!joshua x f!reader

genre: fluff and a little bit of angst 

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: alcohol, drinking, hints at infertility, mentions of a surrogate, self doubt, hints at depression, mentions of therapy, brief mention of poly!gyuchan,  IVF treatment, suggestive, a cat named dog and a dog named cat, reader isn’t a fan of Shakespeare.

notes: this one’s a heavy one, but I wanted to challenge myself with this one. I did do some brief research as I was writing this one but I still could’ve gotten something wrong, so if I did let me. Either way, I’m grateful for those who read and please please please let me know your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

Joshua threw his head back downing the shot of soju. His face twisted in displeasure, hissing at the bitter taste. He sets the glass down wiping his plump lips with the back of his hand before pointing a finger at you. 

“What about Elizabeth, like Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice?” Joshua asks, grabbing the green bottle of soju and pouring himself another shot. 

You cross your arms in front of your body and lean back against the dark navy booth. “Nope, try again.” 

Joshua let’s out a sound of annoyance before downing another shot. He doesn’t let the acrimonious taste settle in on his taste buds before he’s pouring himself another one and downing it. The two of you knew it was going to be a long night. Time was ticking, your surrogates due date was approaching and neither of you had picked out a name for your daughter. 

Truthfully, her name should’ve been chosen months ago. At least that’s what you and Joshua had planned during the first trimester of the pregnancy. But every time the topic came up, the two of you would end up frustrated and running back to the drawing board. You had names picked out, so did he. Neither one felt right. It also didn’t help that throughout the eight and a half months of the pregnancy a sense of guilt would wedge its way into your veins.

According to the many doctor’s you and Joshua consulted throughout the first year of your marriage. Your body wouldn’t be able to carry a child until full term. It had impacted you negatively. Your mental health was never up to par twenty four seven, but during that year - the year that was supposed to be filled with happy memories with your newly wedded husband; your mental health was at its worse. Memories that were supposed to be happy and colorful were black and white. You spent every waking moment dreaming about your child and feeling like a failure all at the same time. 

Joshua would hold you every time you cried out in agony. Each sob that came out of your lips would find its way and break his heart even further. He felt worthless not knowing what to do as he sat and watched the light get sucked out of you. He was hurting too, there wasn’t a doubt left in his head that he somehow shared your pain. But he couldn’t begin to imagine what it felt like to be told over and over again that your body will never be able to carry a child. So he held you and prayed for a miracle every night. He loved you more than anything in the world and although he found himself frustrated whenever you treated yourself like you were worthless or nothing. He made a promise to you in front of your family and his that through sickness and in health he will be by your side no matter what. 

The miracle came after four years. On New Year’s Eve of that first miserable year of marriage you told him you wanted to go to therapy, but only if he went too. He gladly agreed, eyes blown up in uncertainty but he didn’t fight you on your decision. Immediately he started researching for the best therapists in town, forgetting about the holiday party at Jun’s house. 

Slowly he saw you come back to yourself. The first time you smiled at him and laughed he cried tears of joy along with you. After almost two years of individual therapy with the newly added weekly couple therapy session, the two of you decided to research alternatives. Joshua was apprehensive, he feared he would lose you again, reassuring you that the two of you didn’t have to have kids in order to be a complete family. 

That just the two of you, your cat Inu and your dog Neko was enough. In which you agreed but one of your dreams was to bring a child into the world, to be a mother and you refused to have that taken away from you. So, he agreed after many weeks of convincing and a glittery powerpoint presentation. 

Mingyu, Chan and their wife didn’t want kids, frankly it wasn’t for them. But she didn’t hesitate to offer herself as a surrogate when she learned that you and Joshua were looking for one. It took another glittery powerpoint presentation from all three of them, this time to convince you to let them help you. So you did. Eight and a half months ago through an IVF treatment, one of your eggs and Joshua’s sperm were inside of her, healthily growing your child. Each doctor’s appointment you went to, the excitement inside of you grew. 

You stayed up with Joshua talking about how grateful you were that your baby girl was so loved and she hadn’t even taken her first breath yet. Mingyu and Chan showered her with gifts endlessly. A competition between the two of them to determine who would end up being her godfather. Not to mention her other ten uncle’s competing to see who would win the title of best uncle in the whole wide world. A contest that was to be held annually. Or so they claimed.

You were happy and so was Joshua but the only problem the two of you faced was that you didn’t have a name yet. And it stressed out Joshua to the point of no return, especially after you told him that it would be better to just wait until she was physically in the world. That her name would come to you, appearing out of thin air the moment you saw her for the first time. 

Joshua on the other hand disagreed. He lived paranoid ninety nine percent of the time and liked to be ready just in case something went wrong. He also didn’t want his daughter to be nameless and bean sprout wasn’t cutting it anymore. “Okay how about Ophelia, like from Hamlet.” He says with a hopeful dewey look in his eyes. 

You grab the bottle of soju and pour yourself a shot, downing it before slamming it down on top of the dark wooden table. “Absolutely not, I refuse. I’m not naming our child after a book character, let alone my least favorite book.”

Joshua ran a stressed hand across his face. He wanted this nightmare to end. No both of you wanted this nightmare to end. “It’s not a book, it's a play baby, you out of all people should know that.” He accused, grabbing an unopened bottle of soju and cracking the seal. “Mrs. Literature major.”

“Does it come with a front cover and a back cover and a bunch of pages in between?” You challenge cocking your head to the side, pushing your shot glass towards him. 

Joshua poured you a glass before setting the bottle down and placing his chin in the palm of his hands. A cocky drunk grin evident on his face. “Yes, but it started out as a performance not a book.” He mocks.

“I disagree. Shakespeare had to have written it down first in order to then show the actors. Therefore it’s still considered a book and my statement still stands. I’m not naming our child Ophelia.” You roll your eyes bringing the glass up to your lips, taking a small sip from it. You were finally starting to feel the weight of the alcohol. It was a given the two of you were five soju bottles (almost six) in and still hadn’t made any progress. 

“Why not?” He whines kicking his feet in the process, resembling a little kid who just got told that he couldn’t have cookies ‘n’ creme ice cream for dinner. “I like Ophelia, I think it’s cute.” 

“Because Ophelia drowns in the play, what if by naming our daughter that, we are instilling her an unfortunate faith?” You explain, drawing it out dramatically with your hands. 

“That’s ridiculous. Our daughter is protected not only by her guardian angels but also she has a whole football team on standby ready to beat the shit out of anyone that makes her cry.” Joshua states in a matter of fact tone while closing the half finished bottle of soju. He was finally starting to feel the effects and the two of you still needed to pay the bill and somehow make it home. 

You huff dipping your index finger into the half full shot glass and wetting the rim. “I read about it once.” You whisper. 

“Where?” He stands up holding onto the table and makes his way to your side, sitting down. “On those mommy blogs? The one’s I told you to stop reading because they don’t make you feel good about anything?”  His arm makes it away across your shoulders and pulls you close. 

You nod, leaning your head against his chest. “I’m just scared and I want everything to be perfect. I know that there’s nothing wrong with the decision we made but sometimes I still feel guilty that I wasn’t the one to carry her.” You sigh, lacing your fingers with his. “What if she doesn’t love me?” You cringe at how small your voice sounds. This is something your therapist and you had been working on for the past three weeks. Ever since you realized that the due date was approaching quickly. You’d gotten far but the doubt still lingered no matter how much you tried to push it away. 

Joshua leaves a gentle kiss against the crown of your head. “You’re her mom through and through and she’ll love you no matter what. Your body couldn’t grow her, the risk was too high and I didn’t want anything to happen to you or to her. But that doesn’t mean you were not enough. You have always been enough and you will be the best mom she could ever ask for.” 

Years ago when you had first met Joshua you knew you didn’t deserve him. He was everything you could ever ask for and more. Every time you found yourself drowning he was there with his hand plunged into the water ready to raise you up. He was your pillar whenever you needed someone or something to lean on. He was your voice of reason and your biggest supporter. And it wasn’t fair, because you would never be able to be that person to him. 

“I love you Joshua, thank you for never giving up on me.” You sit up, closing the small gap between the two of you and leaving a soft, delicate, alcohol filled kiss against his perfect lips. 

“I would never in a million think of doing that. Baby I swear I would cut off each of my limbs and feed them to birds if that thought were to ever cross my mind.” He smiles, pecking your lips repeatedly making you giggle. The sound made his heart soar. “I know you won’t believe me but you taught me what it’s like to love someone endlessly and unconditionally and that’s something I will spend my life thanking you for.” He says, thumbs caressing your cheeks before he hugs you close. 

“Stop making it impossible not to love you.” You laugh, circling your arms around his waist, burying your head into his chest. “I like Ophelia too, I’ll put it on the ‘maybe’ list.” His arms get tighter around, making it almost impossible for you to breathe. He wasn’t voicing his happiness, but you could only imagine the dumb smile he had on his face. 

After all, it was rare for you to admit defeat.

The two of you stayed there for a few more seconds before he brought his face down, stopping just above your ear. “Want to go to the bathroom and fuck,  live out our young adults fantasies once more before we become parents?” 

You pull away an incredulous look decorating your face. “Yup, I think you’ve had enough to drink. Let’s go home.” You stand up, grabbing your purse, pulling on his arm earning a wine from your husband. 

“Come on just once, please baby please.” He pleads and stands up, following you as you make your way to the front of the bar where the cash register usually was. 

“Absolutely not, I don’t want to be arrested for Adultery. We are about to become parents Joshua Hong!” 

He shrugs, circling his arm around your waist watching silently as you wait to pay. “It was worth a shot, what about when we get home?” He whispers into your ear leaving a teasing kiss against your chin. 

“We’ll see. Now behave.” 

“As you wish my lovely wife.”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen joshua #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #joshua fanfic #joshua angst #joshua x reader #joshua imagines #joshua fanfiction #joshua scenarios

[venteamocha]

Hello! Sometimes I see you post stuff from IF blogs and I've recently started playing some IF games, which I've enjoyed so far. Do you have any IF stories you'd recommend in particular? I'm not attached to any particular genre and I don't need romance or a self-insert main character, (though I'm not opposed to either). Though, it's a definite plus if it's LGBTQ+ inclusive! I'm not really sure what the "cornerstones" are of IF so I'll take any and all recommendations haha

Oh god, I play so many IFs. So many. And it’s not even close to all of them, but I’m trying!!

Tbh IFs without romance seems to be very rare, I think because when I think IF I think Choice of Games, and those pretty much always have romance in them. At least, the most well known ones do. But a well done one without romance would be nice too!

Okay, this is a list of my favourites! They’re all LGBT+ inclusive, and most have gender selectable love interests, or at least ones that change gender depending on the gender and sexuality combination you pick. In no particular order, of course.  Behind a cut because I’m gonna give them each a mini review. Because I haven’t done that yet.

(There are so many.)

Mind Blind: I absolutely love our big brother Nick, I love how witty and sharp so much of the dialogue is, I love how the MC clearly has a rather large handicap, but is still such an important person to so many people and not looked down on in the slightest. And when they are, we all know it’s because that person is a jerk! They’re not defined by what they aren’t, but what they are, and that’s a great message.

Shepherds of Haven: Part of why I love this one so much is I just love fantasy settings and this one just pulls it off so well. The cast is full of amazing characters, and I gotta say I die inside pretty regularly for not being able to afford the patreon content, lol. The author puts so much amazing stuff on there, and gives us so much great content in the game and through answers on tumblr, and you can tell this whole thing is just the best thing ever to them, and that makes it the best ever for us readers too!

The Wayhaven Chronicles: I’d be shot if I didn’t mention this one, the series that literally killed dashingdon when the book 3 demo dropped!! Again, another author that cares a lot and does their best to do right by their fans. We’ve been given drip after drip of these amazing characters backstories, and I just cannot wait for more! It’s definitely very romance centered, but the overall plotlines are also very good, and I have to say that no matter who I romance, I just feel like the group as a whole is a family. And that’s wonderful.

Speaker: I really like the lore. I really like the lore. I can’t wait until we get more of the overall plotline. Mostly I want my Speaker to get in deep trouble so Seb, Li and Seer (best sister ever) go off and beat the shit out of whatever is causing it. This probably says something about me, but what can I say, I thrive on angst and inflicting near death injuries on my OCs. Sometimes I even kill them, although all of this is offtopic. Or is it? I guess we’ll find out, although I doubt we’ll actually be able to kill off Speaker. And yes, I am definitely playing the Seb & Li poly route. I love them both so much. 

Wilhelmina: I love vampires, ok? Ok? And this one is based off Dracula!! The OG!! And you can choose Drac’s gender!! Shit, sign me up forever!! Yeah, she might be literally killing my bff, torturing my fiancé and low key fucking with my mind, but vampires are hot!! Let me live! Or not. But yeah, this is a really well done retelling of the Dracula novel and I like how well it works as an IF. Did I mention I like vampires?? Especially when they get all monstery?? (This one has an MC with a set gender, as it’s based on an already existing literary figure. Mina can have a same sex relationship with dracula, if you make drac a female, or with Lucy, a female love interest.)

More Things in Heaven and Earth: Hi Nell!! First off, I gotta uncover a deep shame of mine. My family literally has a Shakespeare heirloom collection. As in, my greatgrandfather passed down through the family a collection of Shakespeare that was published in 1911. In ye olde englishe. I tried to read it when I was like 10 and was like what language is this?? What the fuck? What the fuck??? And ended up reading As You Like It, a bit of Romeo and Juliet, and a little of Hamlet. Didn’t touch the rest of it. I only got into the other stories through trashy ya reimaginings. That said, this retelling of Hamlet inspired me to go read the whole of the original and now I have a lot of fears for these characters that I’m so much more attached to, oh god I hope my Ophelia has a happy ending. I hope Hamlet himself has a happy ending. The dialogue is so well done, everyone is engaging, and yeah it made me finish an old af book when nothing else did. (This one also has an MC with a set gender, female, for the same reason. However, there are two gender variable love interests, so you can very much play a bi or gay Ophelia if you so choose.)

Guenevere: I love King Arthur. All the myths. I have so many books based on the King Arthur mythos, oh dear god. I love pretty much every version of it. All the movie and tv shows too! I just can’t get enough of those knights. I could go on for paragraphs about how courtly love worked and how all the different social castes were, but I’ll try not to. This series lets you customize Guen as a character to an amazing degree, considering that she’s also based on an actual literary figure like the other two I mentioned above. It really feels like she becomes your own character, and yet she still exists within this world very very well. I worry quite a bit that the author might have bit off more than they can chew with the current book they’re working on, what I’ve seen of it looks absolutely massive in scale. What is out so far is a wonderful read though, full of drama and laughter and lots of chances to make the story your own.

Bastard of Camelot: Yep! Another King Arthur series! Sue me! This one lets you set Mordred’s gender though, so it’s more inclusive in that way. It is very interesting to play as one of the “bad guys” of the King Arthur mythos. You can play them as straight up evil, as good, or you know, a bit of column a and a bit of column b. Or they can just be a rude little shit. It’s got dragons too! You get a dragon pet! Dragons are cool. It can be a bit tough to play sometimes, since a lot of people dislike Mordred quite a lot because of prejudices. Hopefully this will change a bit later in the series if you’ve been a fairly good person up to that point. Gotta say though, as a warning, that Mordred is a product of incest. It’s not glossed over, and it does cause a lot of problems for them in the story.

God of the Red Mountain: I just love that this inspired me to read more chinese mythology tbh. There is just so much here! And it’s just such a good read. I wish I was better at describing things. The MC being a spirit that you can define, the whole setting, most of the love interests also being spirits, the massive amount of history and culture and lore, how it all fits together. It is such a well done story. I really wish it got more attention than it does. I still miss Big Sister. I still can’t wait to find out more about the foxes, and how we can heal our MC.

The Nameless: Another one that lets you play as something otherworldly. I love the lore behind this one, and I love all of the cast I’ve met. I kind of like that our MC isn’t loved right off the bat, that we’ll have to win over all of our love interests and even the other npcs. I’m up for the challenge! Everything I’ve read on the tumblr for these characters just makes me love them all more tbh. I love how much they’ve written for all of them! Most of all though, I love Oisein. All the art of them is just *chef kiss* and their personality is magical.

A Mage Reborn: This is a really recent one but!! Wow, it’s really well done! That cliffhanger!! Oof!! Not many books literally start with killing your MC off! That takes guts! I told the author this already, but I love the way they formatted this, the way it starts with the end, so to speak, and then fills it all out. It just made everything feel so poignant, how MC is literally looking back at all these moments in time in the last minutes they have before they die. Shit. That’s powerful. And there’s gonna be more??? Can’t wait for that angst. Give me that drama. Of course I picked the one who had me killed, that’s just how I am!

These are all just the COG type games, there are a few twine games with graphics I’d throw on here, but the list is long enough as it is and they feel like they’re in a different category to me. Maybe it’s just me?

#if #if recs #rivi's recs #interactive fiction #there are more than these that i like too! #these are just the ones i feel the strongest about #and as i said these don't include the itchio twine ones #there are amazing ones there too but that feels like it should be a separate post? #i'd put links but i think it won't show up anywhere if i do #because tumblr is A Site #i can pass them on though if needed

[popsunner]

There was a moment. A moment when everything was still and silent. The dead speak no words and the survivors rarely speak twice that. There is blood on the ground and spilled wine, thrown from nobility's hands, unsure if it too was tainted. Red stains his hands and he can’t help but think he failed her, as he stares at her brother’s unseeing eyes. Ophelia was entrusted to his care and now she is drowned, and her brother follows. He opens his mouth as if to apologize but the words get stuck in his throat. Ophelia had pressed a pink rose into his hand as they parted, her eyes bright and her face streaked with tears.

“For gratitude,” she had said.

There was a moment of silence while the ghost of the pink roses thorns bit into his stained hands and then he saw Hamlet stumble, and the world was loud again.

He’s at his side in a moment, stepping over the queen with barely a glance as his hands find Hamlet’s shirt, gripping it to keep which of them upright, he doesn’t know. Hamlet looks at him, blinking like he can’t see clearly. He smiles as he settles his hands over Horatio’s, like this is ordinary, like nothing is the matter..

“Horatio,” he says, and then his smile falls. “I am dead.”

Panic sets into his chest and without thinking Horatio pulls his hands away, trailing down his side until they find the wound and then his hands are stained all over again-- or maybe it was only in his head before. He shakes his head, looking up to meet Hamlet’s eyes, to tell him no, he is not dying, he is far from dead. But Hamlet isn’t looking at him anymore.

His eyes are glazed over as he looks at the queen, his voice soft, breaking on the vowels, “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--”

Hamlet meets Horatio’s gaze then, and his hand lifts shakily to tug at Horatio’s neckerchief. There is humor in his eyes, in the way they used to light when writing poetry, before his life was surrounded by death. He leans in, like he’s sharing a secret, “As this fell sergeant, Death,

Is strict in his arrest.”

Sticking to the script, Horatio chokes out a huffed laugh, and Hamlet’s grip on his neckerchief tightens. “Had I but time…”

“My lord--”

“Oh, I could tell you--” Hamlet starts in a voice that Horatio would have moved mountains to hear under different circumstances, he stops and shakes his head, “but let it be. Horatio, I am dead.”

“No--”

“Thou livest,” Hamlet tells him desperately, yanking him forward as if they are not already toe to toe. Hamlet swallows, “Report me and my cause aright to the unsatisfied.”

It’s an order. The last order. Horatio’s already quivering hands shake from Hamlet’s clothes and he stumbles back, eyes widening as he stares at his friend, his best friend, his--

“Never believe it.” Horatio matches Hamlet’s smile from earlier, shrugging as he trips to Claudius’s still body. “I am a more antique Roman than a Dane.”

He can see it, the moment Hamlet realizes what he’s doing. He knows Hamlet’s face and expression better than he knows science and the inner workings of a mind. He sees Hamlet move forward just as he picks up the not yet emptied poison gauntlet. Just enough for one more death, only one left alive in the room. 

“Here’s yet some liquor left,” He says, as he thinks that it’s fitting, and brings the cup to his lips. 

He isn’t fast enough, Hamlet gets to him first, but trips over Claudius’s leg, grabbing at Horatio’s arm as he falls. “As thou'rt a man, give me the cup. Let go!”

They wrestle with it, over the king's dead body and for a moment Horatio almost laughs at the sight but then Hamlet is tackling him to the floor, pulling the cup from his grasp, throwing it across the room as he growls, “By heaven, I’ll have ’t.”

They sit on the floor, and Hamlet pulls them away from Claudius’s body before he collapses with gasping breaths against Horatio. He reaches up to hold his cheek, turmoil in his eyes.

“No,” Is all Horatio manages to grit out.

“O God, Horatio, what a wounded name,” Hamlet whispers, and he’s talking about both of them. Then he huffs in his stubborn and familiar way and the blood on Horatio’s hands burns. “Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!”

Horatio would usually roll his eyes. Instead he pulls Hamlet further against him, eyes frantically searching for the poisoned cup, searching for a chance, that just maybe--

“If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,” Hamlet tells him, and Horatio yanks his eyes away so fast it makes him dizzy. His jaw unhinged as he stares down at Hamlet, who only smiles as his lips quiver, “absent thee from felicity a while? And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain to tell my story.”

Reading in a field while the sun is high in the sky, scribbled poems on his science notations and sketched flowers in journals. Hamlet’s laugh that used to come so easily and his hand warm on Horatio’s shoulder. He’d told him once that in the end they are all stories, he’d told him once that theirs were intertwined. Horatio wants to say no. With every bit of his being he wants to scream to god that he cannot do this, but he recognizes the tremor in Hamlet’s tone.

He almost asks if the request is only a way to make him stay, to keep alive. He doesn’t, he knows the answer. Slowly, he nods. Hamlet shifts his hand to swipe a tear off his cheek before settling it back on his face.

“Oh, I die, Horatio,” He says like an apology. “The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit. I cannot live to hear the news from England. But I do prophesy the election lights on Fortinbras. He has my dying voice. So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less, which have solicited.”

He waits until Horatio nods again, then his hand all but drops, his pointer finger brushes across Horatio’s lips as he says, “The rest is silence.”

Horatio feels the last breath leave the prince of Denmark, and with it, his love.

The walls around him shake or perhaps it’s only his body, wrapped around Hamlet like a shield come too late. He feels the prince’s curls against his nose as he presses his lips to his forehead. 

There was a moment of quiet, but Hamlet took it with him with his last words.

The sound of marching soldiers drowns out Horatio’s wail, a scream to the heavens and that damned ghost and the inescapable fate that comes from revenge and the dare it had to take Ophelia and Rozencratz and Guildenstern and Laertes and Hamlet from him. His throat aches as waves of tears fall across his face and he wonders if he could drown in them, and how much of the water in lovely Ophelia’s lungs were the salt from her wide eyes. After what feels to be hours but can’t have been, his breath shudders to a quieter racket, and he sends a prayer to his friends who are, all of them, dead.

He’s left alone in an empty room with the man he loves in his arms and there are too many words for him to say, but Hamlet was always the writer. 

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince,” Horatio says finally, and closes Hamlet’s eyes against the tragedy surrounding them as he says his final goodbye, “and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

#brain: you wanna make yourself cry #me: no??? #brain: too bad #shakespeare #ace directs Shakespeare #hamlet #lmao suffer with me

[emblemxeno]

Fates’ 2nd Gen Characters: Parallels and Contrasts

A request from an anon. Again, I won’t do the neutral children since it would be kind of difficult to do so. But it was easier than I thought to do the rest of the kids.

Shiro and Siegbert: Both are heirs to their respective kingdoms through their very renowned fathers and are actually pretty insecure about inheriting the title of king. Siegbert is principled and docile, and always knew he was royalty. Shiro is rebellious and direct, and was kept in the dark about his identity. Siegbert idolizes Xander and wants to be just like him, whereas Shiro wants to be better than Ryoma and went so far as to fight with naginata so he’d have an advantage over his dad in a fight.

Kiragi and Forrest: Both have mixed feelings about their royal blood and their inheritance; Forrest is afraid of the responsibilities and terrifying power that comes with being royalty and Brynhildr’s successor, whereas Kiragi hates being coddled due to his status. Forrest is a healer with a keen aesthetic eye, loves fashion and prefers to keep things neat and tidy. Kiragi is an amazing hunter who is one with wilderness, and is pretty unkempt. Forrest is shy with confidence issues (said issues being more apparent in the JP version, again he was kind of changed in Western releases) and has an uneasy relationship with Leo. Kiragi is optimistic and outgoing, and loves Takumi unconditionally.

Asugi and Nina: Both of them have very strained relationships with their fathers, are skilled in espionage, fight for what they believe is righteous and just, have unconventional obsessions and both of their paralogues require you not to let them escape. The key difference is that Nina chose the same path that Niles did despite him not wanting that for her, whereas Asugi resents being the sixth Saizo, and wants to find his own path in life no matter what his father wants.

Mitama and Soleil: Both are noted to have inherited a slew of traits from their respective fathers (Soleil inherits Laslow’s smiling credo and flirtatiousness with women, Mitama inherits Azama’s star eyes, wisdom, and sharp tongue). However, Soleil is sociable and enthusiastic, while Mitama is lazy and keeps to herself. Also, Mitama is very artistic; she enjoys poetry, scroll crafting, and chigiri-e (a Japanese form of artwork where you tear and paste together colored paper to create an image). Soleil on the other hand has as much artistic style as stale bread, and is outright noted to be a terrible dancer and singer, among other things.

Caeldori and Ignatius: Both characters look up to their fathers and want to be just like them, but have massive insecurities. The difference lies in that Caeldori is outwardly confident in both social interaction and battle, but is incredibly anxious and afraid of not measuring up to her father. Ignatius is afraid of looking like a coward to basically everyone, especially because his role as an armor knight means he must protect people; however, he gets a boost of bravery and courage whenever he’s on the battlefield. Another difference is that Caeldori hates being treated like a natural talent because it makes her feel isolated and her hard work being ignored, whereas Ignatius diminishes his own talents and hard work a lot, and hates looking like a failure in front of people.

Rhajat and Ophelia: Both are eccentric spellcasters who are talented in the dark arts. Ophelia is open and dramatic, whereas Rhajat is gloomy and introverted. Ophelia makes her love and admiration for her father well known, hence her being inspired by him. Rhajat on the other hand is initially rebellious and standoffish with her father, but does reveal that she loves him deeply. While Ophelia is always flashy and chipper, she’s secretly insecure that people won’t take her seriously and that she’ll never measure up to the Chosen One status that she seeks to accomplish. Rhajat may appear standoffish, but desperately wants to make friends and have people like her despite her gloomy aura and odd habits. In short, both care deeply about what others think of them despite it seeming like the contrary.

Hisame and Percy: Both characters initially rebelled against their fathers. Both also have contradictory traits compared to their fathers (Hisame’s seriousness vs Hinata’s carefree attitude, Percy’s good luck vs Arthur’s horrendous luck). However, Percy’s rebellion against his father is played for laughs and a reference to both of their respective luck (good luck that Percy had mercenaries to back him up, bad luck that Arthur has to deal with the mercs), and he ultimately loves his father a lot. Hisame’s relationship with Hinata though is more complex and deep-seated, but he ultimately does care for his father and is actually secretly jealous of his carefree nature. Lastly, Percy is childish and innocent, whereas Hisame is calm and wise beyond his years.

Selkie and Velouria: Both characters are scions of their respective beast tribes and love their fathers dearly. Selkie is a free spirit who loves playing with others and getting praise, whereas Velouria likes to remain by herself most of the time and has more unconventional interests. Selkie is naive to the ways of the world, and often has to be taught about things such as morality during conflict or how her race puts her in danger. Velouria on the other hand is quite knowledgeable about things, if a bit blunt. Also, Selkie is clingy to her father because she never had a chance to visit the rest of the kitsune hamlet, but Velouria is clingy to her father because she knows she’ll eventually have to live for herself one day and is trying to make the most of the time with her dad that she can.

-

And there you go. I hope I made a good sequel post.

#fire emblem #fire emblem fates #shiro fire emblem #siegbert fire emblem #kiragi fire emblem #forrest fire emblem #asugi fire emblem #nina fire emblem #mitama fire emblem #soleil fire emblem #caeldori fire emblem #ignatius fire emblem #ophelia fire emblem #rhajat fire emblem #hisame fire emblem #percy fire emblem #selkie fire emblem #velouria fire emblem

[writings-n-stuff]

Practice (Beck x Reader)

Pairing: Beck Oliver (Victorious) x (Gender Neutral) Reader 

Words: 1,527

Summary: Beck and the reader are practicing a scene together, when the two of them get distracted by each others’ gaze. A comfortable silence follows, and kisses are exchanged.

Content Warning: lots of fluff

"Okay, I think that's enough for today!" you stated, moving your script aside, your notes off your lap and onto the coffee table.

Beck mirrored your actions, a patient nod and knowing smile on his face. "Yeah, we've definitely got the scene down," he laughed.

The two of you had spent the last hour practicing a scene for your English class--you were Hamlet and Beck was Ophelia. After a good thirty to forty-five minutes of reading, rereading, and giving mutual feedback, the both of you had finally settled into your roles. That was also when you both adopted ridiculous accents as you practiced, waving your hands around and sticking your noses into the air. After almost hitting Beck in the chin, you decided that enough was enough.

A slightly awkward silence settled between the two of you. Beck had also spent the hour convincing you that your acting was truly sincere, that you were acting beautifully. On the Visual Arts track at Hollywood Arts, you never seemed to see the Acting students outside of your "normal" classes. Beck had always been polite enough, kind enough, and a pleasant presence next to you in class. He pretended not to notice when you casually glanced his way, and you did the same whenever you noticed him staring back.

When the teacher had paired you two up to practice and analyze a scene from Hamlet, Beck had given you one of many killer smiles, excitement showing plain in his eyes.

The same expression met his face in this moment, sitting together at his place. You had sat a bit far apart on his sofa, but all the joking around had brought you closer. Your arms almost touched; you could smell the faintest bit of cologne when he turned to face you. "I hope we analyzed the scene right," Beck said, eyes roaming over your face, his hands settling to rest on his stomach. "It'd be embarrassing to read it all wrong."

You shrugged, turning a bit towards him as well. You brought your leg onto the sofa, foot hanging over the edge. You had taken off your shoes when you entered his trailer, noticing his shoes piled in a corner by the door. Now, you pulled at the edge of your pizza-print socks. "I think anything can be interpreted many different ways," you said quietly, eyes trained on the graphic of melting cheese on the fabric. "Art is subjective, and just showing how comfortable we are with the script also matters. I mean,” you sent a shy glance up at him and his listening eyes, “you're definitely going to outshine any acting I could ever do."

Beck nudged your shoulder, shaking his head. "Come on, you're so talented! We work well together; I'm not going to outshine you at all." He tilted his head, catching your gaze with the way his hair gracefully fell over his face. "You're a natural. Really."

You just nodded, drinking in his reassurance. Beck had this calm about him that somewhat settled your nerves. You weren't anxious about the scene, you were anxious about him. He was leaning ever so slightly towards you, cologne-and-boy smell making you feel all warm in your belly. As he moved his hair away from his face, breaking eye contact just for a second, he asked, "What have you been doing in your visual classes?"

As always, you felt your face warm a bit; you rubbed the back of your neck, thinking of something to say. Talking about your own accomplishments was something you still weren't used to doing, even at Hollywood Arts, where talent was the singular thing anyone ever discussed. "I'm working on a series of portraits. I have this huge wooden board," you stretched your hands out to show how wide the surface was, "and I'm painting one face on top, then layering different flyers and posters over parts of the face, and then using different features to paint a new face on top over and over. Just kind of seeing how many people I can create, and how similar people's faces really are." You glanced up at Beck to see him looking at you so intently. It made you blush a little. "What?"

The corner of Beck's lips tilted up, and he leaned his head on his hand while you explained. "Are you using specific people as references?"

You smirked, feeling like he wanted to know whether or not you had painted him. "Sometimes, sometimes not." You shrugged, "I really just paint whatever, whoever, I'm thinking of in the moment."

You leveled your eyes with his then, mirroring his intense gaze. Taking in your words, Beck let the silence fall again. It settled over your shoulders like a blanket, both of you wrapped together as you simply stared.

You had caught Beck’s eyes lingering at your lips before, in English class, completely checked out of the lecture on the warmest days. He would lean back in his chair (as if that made it more inconspicuous), and he would pretend he was simply daydreaming. It wasn’t completely acting, since he was daydreaming about how it would feel to kiss you, but he still liked to think that he was acting almost interested in class.

Much closer now, Beck’s eyes had slid from yours, skimming over the curve of your cheeks, the slope of your nose, and settling over your lips once again. Not even hiding it, he was aware of how forward this was. He had been lightly flirting with you the whole time: purposefully making you laugh with funny accents, nudging your shoulder or arm or leg as he encouraged your silliness, simply looking at you like that while you talked with him. You wanted him to admit it, verbally. “What are you thinking about?” you asked, your voice coming out low and husky just like you wanted.

Beck leaned a little more towards you; you could swear that his face reddened a bit. “I’m thinking about how it might feel to kiss you right now,” he answered with a similar tone. The corner of his mouth turned up just a little, and your heart melted instantly. 

Wordlessly, you moved your hands forward, into his. You leaned towards him, faces inches apart but still not touching. Your fingertips trailed over his forearm, and he held his hand open for you to hold. Beck’s other hand settled on your shoulder, moving to rest at your neck. You felt a warm shudder down your spine, holding onto each little movement he made, each breath he took, every glance over your face.

Your own hand rested at his chest, fingertips slipping just under the neckline of his t-shirt. The cologne smell was a bit stronger now, floating over the simple scent of boy as you scooted closer to him. Beck moved his thumb over your lips gently, making sure that you didn’t want to move away. His brown eyes were warm, reminiscent of melting chocolate. Soft. “Is it okay if I kiss you,” he exhaled, almost whispering against your lips. His eyes were already dipping closed, biting at his bottom lip slightly.

You nodded, leaning into him first, settling into his warm hold. Beck welcomed your proximity, kissing back so sweetly, squeezing your hand just a little. Lips soft, slow against your own. His hand moved to your hair, weaving his fingers into your locks. He had wanted to kiss you for a while, and the way that he kissed you slow and carefully truly showed it.

Beck’s hair brushed against your cheeks as he leaned into you, tongue lightly grazing over your bottom lip. You melted into his hand on your neck, his fingertips warm on your skin. He kissed you so carefully, lightly biting your lip with a content sigh. You could tell that he was excited by the way his hand squeezed yours reassuringly. His hair tickled your cheeks while you moved together, your hand coming up to touch his jaw. You felt him smile against your lips.

Out of breath, the both of you pulled away in the same moment. Beck tenderly cupped your cheek, and you let out a sigh you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. All you wanted was to settle in his arms with this warm, bubbly feeling in your stomach. All you wanted was for Beck to look at you as he was, happy and shy and still a little nervous.

He was feeling the same. 

Beck moved his hair out of his eyes, feeling a little embarrassed at how much he was smiling. He wanted to play it cool, or at least look like he was playing it cool. He really wanted to kiss you more, to lean into your soft hands. Beck really wanted to practice your scene again and again if it meant that you’d get to kiss afterwards again and again.

“I’m glad we got to work together,” you murmured warmly. Beck’s soft, pensive gaze helped you realize that you really were there with him. He was really holding your hand, gazing at you and wishing you could kiss again.

He nodded, a smile still playing at his lips. “Me, too.”

#beck fanfiction #victorious fanfiction #beck x reader #victorious x reader #beck imagine #beck victorious #avan jogia #avan jogia fanfiction #avan jogia x reader #victorious imagine

[lizardrosen]

Hamlet Liveblog 2011, Act 3, Scene 2

In which I share the best parts of my notebook where I went through the whole text of Hamlet, line by line

3.2.1-2 "as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue" - dance with the words and make them your own

3.2.4-6 for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Hamlet wants to be subtle so he tells the Players to do the same (but his plan fails at the subtlety thing, whoops!)

3.2.9-10 "to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise" - here, Shakespeare makes fun of bad actors current Will: I mean in this exact line he's making fun of the audience members, but yes, hamlet spends most of the beginning of this scene making fun of bad actors, that's the literal point. silly past me

3.2.43-64 AKA HAMLET/HORATIO!!! lol, gotta love my enthusiasm here 💚

3.2.43 "Here, sweet lord, at your service" - affection and respect and submission

3.2.49 "Why should the poor be flattered?" - sounds like an insult, but he means it to show that he's sincere - Horatio and his family honor! current Will: honestly, rereading this whole little speech with "that no revenue hast but thy good spirits," and "let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp" Hamlet just seems really rude to everyone and it's so funny that i took this as totally sincere and nice. also i have no clue why i wrote about Horatio's family honor - did i have him briefly confused with Laertes??

3.2.53 "Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice" - SO MUCH SUBTEXT; he couldn't choose to keep his father alive but he could choose in this, and it is Horatio he chose

3.2.62-64 "and I will wear him in my heart's core, ay in my heart of heart, as I do thee" - COULD IT BE ANY MORE CANON?!

3.2.78-9 "If a steal aught the whilst this play is playing, and scape detecting, I will pay the theft" nooo! Horatio, you don't have to take on everyone's burden for yourself! Though that's what he's always done; by the end of it all he's the only one who doesn't pay - with his life, at least, but what he ended up with may be the worst deal, because he can't not-be current Will: it's good to see that i've always had that thought about this line and how he ends up paying for it

3.2.82-120 Hamlet's a punny guy, but cruel

3.2.93 "It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there" - play on Brutus and Capitol; but also a calf is an innocent creature that gets sacrificed, like Polonius treats Ophelia, or Polonius himself ending up dead because of Hamlet

3.2.103-105 country matters=cunt, nothing=vagina, Hamlet=DICK current Will: i'm the funniest person in the world, omg

3.2.125-7 OPHELIA: Will he tell us what this show meant? HAMLET: Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. so Stoppard wasn't just making it up! [the Players exhibitionism]

3.2.134-5 "Tis brief my lord" "As woman's love" - She's still trying to hang onto him and correct his behavior, but he just keeps mocking her. Methinks his love is far briefer than hers. Or he's really hurt by her returning the favors. Or he's really talking about Gertrude. Or he's only pretending to be cruel to fit in with perception of him as mad. current Will: these were some really interesting thoughts, but I think now that there's no such thing as "pretending" to be cruel. If you're hurting someone it doesn't matter if you actually mean the things you're saying because they're not in on the joke, so you just are cruel.

3.2.165-6 "A second time I kill my husband dead / When second husband kisses me in bed" - Hamlet says pretty much the same thing in the closet scene

3.2.261-4 Hamlet asks twice if Horatio saw Claudius's guilt and he responds very calmly and patiently

3.2.269-70 "vouchsafe me a word with you" - Guil wants assurance of something, even if it's not his purpose or identity "Sir, a whole history." - Hamlet is so happy his plan worked that he's not even angry at Guil anymore and now they can be friends 3.2.279 "put your discourse into some frame and start not so wildly from my affair" - Guildenstern just wants a frame of reference :( current Will: clearly I was pulling from the tom stoppard characterization of Guil groping for meaning in the dark (and a lot of the notes coming up are just line notes for my ideal staging) but I think it's very interesting that I thought Hamlet was being friendly, because I usually see him play it absolutely disrespectfully

3.2.293-95 "Therefore no more, but to the matter, my mother you say" When he was talking to Guil he had friendly banter, but now he's all business - he knows the best way to hurt each of them "Then thus she says" - Rosencrantz hesitates a bit before he answers because he doesn't understand Hamlet's brusqueness

3.2.303 "My lord, you once did love me" - R is so sad in this scene! He pauses after the first few words in case Hamlet wants to fill the silence, then stumbles forward. Emphasis on "once" like he's waiting for a present tense, and then the end is almost a question

3.2.304 "So I do still, by these pickers and stealers" - maybe grabs his hands and clasps them in a cruel parody of friendship, or kisses him hard and cruel and carnal current Will: wow, I was just determined to give Rosencrantz the worst time, wasn't I? this is tragic and I was correct

3.2.306-7 "You do surely bar the door upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to your friends" Ros remembers what he said about Denmark being a prison and thinks he's helping. Also, he's coming around to Hamlet's point of view because this trip has been awful

3.2.327-8 "But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony. I have not the skill" - Hamlet should have asked Rosencrantz because he would either know already, or figure it out intuitively

3.2.330 "you would pluck out the heart of my mystery" - he is a mystery to them and has a heart of parts current Will: i really wish I knew what i meant by that last phrase but it sounds cool and poetic!

3.2.339-344 camel - carries burdens for other people; weasel - duplicity and spying and lying; backed - supported or just partially weasel-like (somewhat sincere in whatever they're pretending to be); whale - big and blundering and in the ocean, but not on a boat, so it's free to go where it pleases :)

3.2.351 "Now could I drink hot blood" - Okay, Hamlet, slow down! Bloody revenge is one thing and reveling in it is quite another

3.2.354-5 "Let not ever the soul of Nero enter this firm bosom" he doesn't actually want to kill his mother, but doesn't want her to know this yet

#hamlet liveblog 2011 #hamlet #horatio #ophelia #polonius #gertrude #rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead #damn this scene was long! i'm glad i decided to have this and the nunnery scene separate!

[citizen-zero]

Ophelia didn’t JUST go crazy because her ex boyfriend killed her father, okay

Ophelia went mad because her entire narrative arc in Hamlet is defined by patriarchal control and being treated like a child despite being an adult. Her first scene is one in which both her brother and father warn her not to be involved with a man she loves, but the way they do it is so telling.

Laertes offers a compelling reason for her to be careful: no matter how true his love or how good his intentions, Hamlet is a prince and his actions can’t always be his own. If he marries he has to marry for political gains, and Ophelia is the daughter of a court advisor with no title. So Ophelia could never be more than a mistress to him, dearly and truly loved but living in social and moral/religious disgrace, reflecting poorly on herself and on her father and brother. And sure, if Hamlet were king, she’d be well taken care of even if she weren’t married, but there’s still the aforementioned problem of honor. And besides, there’s the bigger problem of Hamlet not being king. If he so chose, Claudius could have Ophelia sent away, or imprisoned, or anything else that Hamlet would have no legal power to stop. So it’s better not to get entangled with Hamlet.

Laertes’ position is one that denies Ophelia happiness, but it’s also one that recognizes she’s an adult woman AND one that is based in practical truths. It’s a position that grants Ophelia time and agency to end things with Hamlet gradually and in a way that lets both of them process the situation. I mean, okay, there’s a certain degree of talking down he does to her, but it strikes me more like the way an older sibling will speak from experience when telling their younger sibling not to do something stupid. Moreover, their conversation is also one where Ophelia has a chance to respond to him in kind and remind him not to be a hypocrite, because Laertes isn’t exactly old either.

But then along comes Polonius to trample all over that. He speaks all over her, gives her no chance to respond, and treats her like a stupid child, comparing her to a bird caught in a trap. Unlike Laertes, he insists that Hamlet must have wicked intent and be seducing her—thereby assuming that Ophelia isn’t adult enough to have romantic or sexual agency. He’s essentially the kind of dad who threatens to do violence to his adult daughter’s boyfriends (well, not exactly, but definitely the same mindset). He refuses to believe Ophelia when she says that Hamlet has been genuine and gentlemanly to her, not trusting that she’s wise enough to recognize when someone is “only after one thing” versus when it’s actual love.

He then goes on to order her to return his letters, to order her to cut off from him completely and immediately (with no chance to process), and to then read some of Hamlet’s words to her to the king and queen, violating their privacy and turning something lovely into a reason for shame. Polonius says Ophelia gives him the “doubt that...” letter out of filial duty, but given his busybody character and how he forced an answer out of her earlier, it’s not too much of a stretch to guess that he forced her to give it to him. Polonius then proceeds to conspire with Claudius to use Ophelia as a tool against Hamlet, putting her in a position to be deeply wounded.

I know a lot of interpretations of the “get thee to a nunnery” scene have Ophelia and Hamlet being both in on the joke, and that’s a valid interpretation that gives Ophelia more agency, but there’s no textual support IMO to suggest that that’s the actual case. You could interpret the scene as Ophelia completely believing that Hamlet is actually scorning and being cruel to her, and frankly, I’m not sure that that scene can’t be played straight on his end either. Maybe Hamlet sees that this is Polonius’ meddling, but maybe he thinks Ophelia is going along with it. In short though, her father’s actions have put Ophelia in a position to be verbally abused by someone who she believes loved her.

(This is somewhat problematized by the later scene where they’re talking during the play. It comes off flirtatious, but that’s all in the tone—you could make it flirty, but you could also make it Ophelia being distant out of obligation to obey her father, while Hamlet’s goading her with sexual jokes. So it’s him once again being kind of a dick at best, cruel at worst).

And the final straw comes when he kills Polonius. Polonius’ death wasn’t the sole cause of Ophelia going mad, but it was the final straw. Sure, her father was a controlling meddlesome asshole, but like...whether we read him as actually abusive or not, Ophelia probably still loved him as her father, complicated love or not. And now she’s an orphan, and it’s all because of the actions of the man she loved.

Like, Hamlet’s actions are understandable from his own perspective. But Ophelia doesn’t know about the ghost, doesn’t know about the murder, knows NOTHING. All she sees is the severe mental deterioration of her boyfriend coupled with the heartbreaking knowledge that her brother and father are right about the relationship not being viable. So she can’t be with him and can’t even stand by him to support him. And then she becomes a pawn in a political game she doesn’t even really understand, her every action directed by powerful men, which results in said boyfriend lashing out at her. And then her boyfriend kills her father for no reason she can understand other than him MAYBE being insane.

So you can see why Ophelia would be a little out of her mind by the time she dies

#hamlet #ophelia #william shakespeare #shakespeare #personal #erika's blog and bar