#words words words { othello }

[thathyperfixatedsonofagun]

What do we think, chat

[maniacalmole]

It's always been 'Haha they both like cars and trying to be cool' with Crowley and Dean but now there's this delightful alteration of events wherein the ones who have the most specific thing in common is...well...the ones who got Confessed(TM) to.

Aziraphale: I couldn't stop talking.

Dean: Doesn't sound so bad? I just kind of stood there.

Aziraphale: I mean, I actually interrupted him.

Dean: I wish I'd interrupted him.

Aziraphale: Do you think we both did the wrong thing?

Dean: Yeah we fucked up.

[philhoffman]

"Do I take the path of least resistance? You know in therapy, you always get to the point of like, when am I finished? And it's not finished with therapy, it's like—alllllll this crap, when is it over? This thing of like, when do you get it? ... And it's like no! That never happens! You just die! You just fuckin' die.

"And so that road to death—the road to death we call life—can be just burgers and booze and women and smokes and TV and magazines and really bad art—and you can just go and slide right into the hole.

"Or, you can go, well, I think I better keep confronting and keep challenging and keep trying to make good stuff and working hard, and the whole time you're like, why am I doing this? Why am I in Othello right now? What the hell was I thinking? No one likes it! ... But that's what you do. That's what you do because if you don't do that, it's so easy to go that other place... So you gotta do Othello." -Philip Seymour Hoffman speaking at TIFF 2010

[gennsoup]

"Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!"

William Shakespeare, Othello

[frankensteincest]

I think there’s something in Iago (almost certainly) lying about Cassio coming onto him in his sleep as he dreams of Desdemona -> Iago and Cassio being the only ones left alive at the end of the play, especially with Desdemona’s body being cast in the typical necrophilic light, but idk what.

[eemoo1o-animoo]

This is just… y’know?

[targkso]

I'm almost always on the verge of insanity over Elizabethan playwrights but today more than usual I feel even insaner over them

[arthur-r]

not to use tumblr for peer review but how does this thesis feel to you??

There is no ontologically binding truth of the human condition, and each culture, society, and individual develops singular morals and ideologies in response to its own external stimuli. Humans are often considered a special, separate realm of creature, but at our core we hold no essence to separate ourselves from the rest of nature, and our identity is as mutable as the society we live in. Human identity is preserved through the passing of stories down through generations, but the capitalistic culture in our world today encourages the suppression of sympathetic ideas and behavior which make up a large part of human tradition. The idea of humanity as a definitive and singular distinction from the rest of the natural world is detrimental to our understandings of ourselves and one another as citizens of the world; it is up to each individual to define themself, creating a human identity they are comfortable inhabiting and diminishing the impact of the dominant paradigm’s overblown ascendancy over nature.

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

ring for jeeves essay status update: i have to read othello now

[britneyshakespeare]

i finished troilus and cressida today and no wonder they call it a problem play. honestly what was that

[highretrogamelord]

Cassette Two for the ZX81

[nefarious-hopes]

[laiostoudenn]

“But I just got you…”

I like to imagine in Othello’s story, once he learns that Gale must sacrifice himself and Gale is admit on doing so, Othello is shattered. He hasn’t had true love for over 100 years and now that he finally got it, it’s being threatened to be taken away from him. So he completely falls apart in Gales arms sobbing and the only words he can say are: “But I just got you.”

Thank you @heraxic for the lovely lovely lovely art ❤️

[theaceofarrows]

All of the batboys have gotten in trouble at school before for correcting teachers. Examples

-

Dick - correcting the math and French teachers on multiple occasions and taking over a gym glass because the substitute wasn't doing the right warm-ups and stole the class guinea pig

Jason - correcting the Spanish teacher pronunciations and the English teacher's grammar on multiple occasions and having a 20-minute debate on why Othello is more tragic than Romeo and Juliet, and stole the class hamster

Tim - corrected the science and chimestry teachers on multiple occasions and shouted out the mistakes math teachers pop quiz for the whole class to hear, and taught the class parakeet to swear

Damian - correcting the math, science, art, and all the foreign language teachers and the entirety of the word history curriculum on several occasions and also stole the class hamster

Duke - correcting the principal on multiple occasions for varying reasons, and the principal has yet to find fault with his reasonings, much to his embarrassment. He did not steal the class pet but was triple-dog-dared

-

Whenever Bruce complains about it, Alfred reminds Bruce that he himself has done all of these and more and threatens to tell the boys about it

[bagofshinyrocks]

Green-Eyed Monster

Prompt: Established relationship; Reader is jealous of someone flirting with their spouse Thranduil, who is oblivious [inspo from @nightfall-writer]

Featuring: Thranduil Oropherion x GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: nothing besides my "Tauriel and Legolas are BFFs" propaganda

You had no reason for envy. 

You were happily wed to the love of your life. Joined the royalty of Eryn Galen through your marriage to the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion. Doted upon by your husband, and cared for by your subjects. You wanted for nothing.

And yet… in had crept “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on” (Othello III:3).

There was never any doubt in your mind that Thranduil was faithful to you. His love for you was as unwavering as water downhill. As was yours for him.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you, and all but melted into your embrace in the privacy of your bedchambers. The touch of your hand more calming than chamomile. The taste of your lips more intoxicating than wine. Your bare skin more alluring than a soft bed after a long day.

But as wise and regal as your husband was, he could be a bit thick in the head at times.

It had been a whole ordeal for the two of you to come together in the first place. A host of conspirators, led by Legolas and Tauriel. An idiotic dance as the two of you convinced yourselves that your feelings were unrequited. You were surprised that your now step-son had not smacked either of you upside the head at least once. His patience was unparalleled. In this instance at least.

So you couldn’t quite blame your husband for not recognizing others’ romantic interest in him.

There were nobles from other lands, elf, dwarrow, and man alike, who were visiting. After the Battle of the Five Armies and the retaking of Erebor by the line of Durin, he decided (i.e. he was persuaded) to expand trade relations, renew treaties, and welcome ambassadors. It seemed that almost every month brought someone new to his halls.

And you weren’t surprised that someone else would find your husband attractive. Not at all.

When you first met him, you could barely breathe. Ageless beauty. Sleek, shining blond hair. Piercing blue eyes. Luxurious clothing and jewelry with more detail than one could find in a day. Voice and speech that crept into your ears and made a home in your mind. You found the Sindar attractive the moment you saw him.

For an ambassador or noble to find Thranduil handsome meant their eyes functioned in some capacity. To find his voice and speech charming, their ears. That did not bother you. It was when their feelings changed like yours did, from aesthetic appreciation to romantic desire.

And he was oblivious to it all. Your speechlessness the day you met, your intimidation at meeting a king. The eagerness for those to meet with him, an eagerness to engage with Eren Galen and its wealth of materials, labor, and beauty.

Jealousy seemed so irrational an emotion. Thranduil was wholly yours; inattentive towards other romantic pursuits. Doted upon you. Craved your company and affection at all times

But it ate at you. Others and their lingering glances. Flirtatious words. Gentle brushes against him. And the ugliness of what you felt.

Your marriage was still recent, especially by elven standards. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. To act like a child who refuses to let others play with their toy. You would turn away and pretend you did not see it, or skip meetings you were not invited to.

Thranduil was concerned. Held you close at night. Reminded you how much he loved you and how brilliant you were. How lucky he was to have you in his life and as his spouse. He must have thought that all the social engagements were draining you. 

“I thank you for meeting with us, sir.” You stood from your seat at the head of the table, and everyone else leaped to their feet. It was still a little strange for so many people to hang on your every word. “I will bring your proposal to King Thranduil shortly.”

The man from Dale beamed and bowed low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Most of the councilors filed out, but the nobleman scampered over to your side. Another low bow which you met with a nod.

“Long have I heard of the beauty of elves, Your Majesty…” A quirk in your eyebrow reminded him of his place, and he quickly caught himself. “The beauty of your halls, your craftsmanship and arts. It is an honor to see it all.” 

You gave him a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

He opened his mouth again for more flattery, but another voice interrupted. One from the doorway.

“Meleth nín?”

There stood your husband, dressed in robes blue as water in moonlight. A tall crown of silver branches. White stones imitated snow and ice amongst the delicate wire.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said, not even sparing the nobleman a glance, “but I must speak with my love now.”

The nobleman quickly excused himself, but hadn’t the chance to leave the room before Thranduil had your hands in his, and his lips on yours.

When he leaned in, you expected a chaste kiss against your cheek. Instead, one hand settled on the back of your neck, and the other placed your hand against his chest. Its opposite quickly mirrored and both of your hands held the fabric of his robe.

Your lips were shiny and your face warm by the time your husband pulled away from you. All the tension had melted from him, and he wasted no time in pressing his forehead against yours and letting his eyes flutter closed again. Once his breath came easy again, he gave you a chaste kiss on the nose.

“Forgive my forwardness, meleth nín,” he cooed in Sindarin, a gentle brush of his hand over your cheek.

“Nothing to forgive, husband.” A kiss to his nose. “How could I be upset at the notion that my husband, the most handsome of all who have lived, live now, and will ever life, desires me?”

A smile at your words, and another kiss on your forehead.

That evening, the two of you were entwined on the couch in your apartments. His head rested against your chest, against your heartbeat, and your fingers combed through his hair and rubbed his back.

A fire crackled in the hearth, and two half-drunk goblets of wine sat on the table at your elbow. A comfortable silence, broken after a good while by a single word.

“Beloved,” he asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“I have a confession. And need your advice.”

The hand formerly in his hair transferred to gently scratch the back of his neck and you briefly squeezed him close with the other arm. He adjusted so he could look up at your face a bit better.

“Of course, meleth nín. What is it?”

“When you were speaking to that man from Dale… I had a foolish thought. Jealousy. I’ve felt it a great deal over the past few weeks, thought I never acted upon it. Until today. I feel childish now, interrupting and publicly expressing physical affection in neither the right time nor the right place. I-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. A startled noise from him, then he pulled himself further up the couch so you could kiss more passionately. He wasn’t entirely sure why you were so taken with the idea of him being so immature, but he was glad you weren’t disappointed.

A quick huff of breath as you pulled apart.

“I love you so much,” you panted, then breaking into giggles. His brows furrowed.

“What is so funny?”

You kissed his nose. “Because I have been feeling jealous the past few weeks. And I hadn’t a clue you were feeling similarly.”

“Why are you feeling jealous?”

“Because,” you flicked his chest, “you have an entourage of nobles, merchants, and ambassadors doting after you. And I was disappointed in myself for being so immature.”

“I do?”

A very unregal snort from you. “Meleth nín, for one so wise, you are so…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

More giggles from you. “Very well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and his nose was tucked comfortably against your throat. The soothing warmth of his breath and the movement of his chest almost lulled you to sleep.

“I don’t think feeling jealousy is a bad thing,” you mused, fingers tracing the embroidery of his leisure dress. “It is a natural part of our behavior, to feel protective of things we love. And you weren’t rude or aggressive, for which I would have been unhappy. I’m glad you love me so much that somewhere in you,” a tap to the side of his head, as if to point the spot out, “a primal sliver encourages you to keep me all to yourself.”

A deep kiss from your husband. One hand behind your neck, cradling your head. The other crept between your back and the couch, fingers pressing into your flesh, pulling you into him as if any distance between you two still existed. You were smiling wide against his lips.

“How silly we both are,” he chuckled after leaning back for air.

Your fingers combed through his hair, finally settling to gently scratch the scalp around his ears.

“Indeed we are, my love.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2024 March 7

[butchhamlet]

i said i was going to arrange a list of my favorite articles/criticism about shakespeare, so here’s my first little roundup! obligatory disclaimer that i don’t necessarily agree with or endorse every single point of view in each word of these articles, but they scratch my brain. will add to this list as i continue reading, and feel free to add your own favorites in the reblogs! :]

essays

Is Shakespeare For Everyone? by Austin Tichenor (a basic examination of that question)

Interrogating the Shakespeare System by Madeline Sayet (counterpoint/parallel to the above; on Shakespeare’s place in, and status as, imperialism)

Shakespeare in the Bush by Laura Bohannan (also a good parallel to the above; on whether Shakespeare is really culturally “universal”)

The Unified Theory of Ophelia: On Women, Writing, and Mental Illness ("I was trying to make sense of the different ways men and women related to Ophelia. Women seemed to invoke her like a patron saint; men seemed mostly interested in fetishizing her flowery, waterlogged corpse.”)

Hamlet Is a Suicide Text—It’s Time to Teach It Like One (on teaching shakespeare plays about suicide to high schoolers)

Commuting With Shylock by Dara Horn (on listening to MoV with a ten-year-old son, as modern jewish people, to look at that eternal question of Is This Play Antisemitic?)

All That Glisters is Not Gold (NPR episode, on whether it’s possible to perform othello, taming of the shrew, & merchant to do good instead of harm)

academic articles

the Norton Shakespeare’s intro to the Merchant of Venice (apologies about the highlights here; they are not mine; i scanned this from my rented copy)

the Norton Shakespeare’s intro to Henry the Fourth part 1 (and apologies for the angled page scans on this one; see above)

Richard II: A Modern Perspective by Harry Berger Jr (this is the article that made me understand richard ii)

Hamlet’s Older Brother (“Hamlet and Prince Hal are in the same situation, the distinction resting roughly on the difference between the problem of killing a king and the problem of becoming one. ... Hamlet is literature’s Mona Lisa, and Hal is the preliminary study for it.”)

Egyptian Queens and Male Reviewers: Sexist Attitudes in Antony & Cleopatra Criticism (about more than just reviewers; my favorite deconstruction of shakespeare’s cleopatra in general)

Strange Flesh: Antony and Cleopatra and the Story of the Dissolving Warrior (“If Troilus and Cressida is [Shakespeare’s] vision of a world in which masculinity must be enacted in order to exist, Antony and Cleopatra is his vision of a world in which masculinity not only must be enacted, but simply cannot be enacted, his vision of a world in which this particular performance has broken down.”)

misc

Elegy of Fortinbras by Zbigniew Herbert (poem that makes me fucking insane)

Dirtbag Henry IV (what it sounds like.)

Cleopatra and Antony by Linda Bamber (what if a&c... was good.)