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#I am eternally sad that a lot of my favorite characters would never ever in a million years be friends if they met

#like: Loki will never be friends with anybody

#Vimes will never be friends with kings

#Marcone will not be friends with anybody not loyal to either him or Chicago

#(or willing to help him help realize his plans for Chicago)

#(with a very clear well-laid-out bargain of exactly what they will want in return)

#(and that being something he is willing to pay)

#Thorin will not be friends with anyone not a dwarf of Erebor

#unless they prove beyond doubt that they have decided to throw in their lot with the dwarves of Erebor and share their danger

#and also not go against his decisions when he decides things in his capacity as King

#Temeraire might be friends with a great many people but Lawrence won't if they're against England in the war

#and Temeraire won't for Lawrence's sake

#Roy Mustang is perfectly willing to be friendly but he is also very done with fighting for someone else's goals

#and a lot of the others won't be friends with him if he won't fight for their goals

#Scar will not be friends with anyone but other Ishbalans and May Chang

#because he fights for his people

#and if you're not fighting for his people you may occasionally work together to achieve a mutual goal but that's it

#(May Chang wasn't on purpose but oh well they're friends now)

#Zuko is bad at people

#but he'd be willing to be friends!

#unless he's working on achieving a goal

#then sorry but hunting the avatar takes priority

#King Henry had friends once

#I think we all know what happened there

#Rumplestiltskin don't make me laugh

#Pellaeon is too busy running an Empire to have friends who aren't ~trusted subordinates~ first and foremost

#yeah Boromir is not going to be your friend if you're not actively helping Gondor

#(unless you are a hobbit and therefore fall into the category of 'noncombatant; to be protected')

#Javert has no friends Javert is the Law

#The Law doesn't have friends

#Garak will be your friend on his own terms

#they are not very reasonable terms though and if Julian is willing to meet them that's nice but no one else here is going to because gosh look at this enormous list of people with massive trust issues oh dear

#let's not even get into people like Edmund and Richard III and the Macbeths and Aaron and Tybalt and Claudius


#*everyone else on this list takes ten steps backwards and turns very pale*
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  • TITLE: Agincourt Carol
  • ARTIST: Michael Roth
  • ALBUM: Henry V (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
  • PLAYED: 99 Plays

I said I’d put this up one more time, didn’t I?  Well, it’s going up today, and then after I’ve eaten I’ma go through and reblog everything everyone’s been posting.  Man I love this version though.  I’m sorry I don’t have a recording of how it was onstage, with Fluellen singing the first two verses and the men rising from the ground where they had been resting with their cloaks wrapped tight around them for warmth to join in on the chorus, voices strengthening with every line, and that I cannot convey Henry’s stunned face as he witnesses it, but oh, it was amazing.

Wandering through the camp, shrouded in night and a borrowed cloak, hearing Fluellen sing, and lead Henry’s men in song… he stands there, staring after his middlish-ranked foreign captain who has just brought together all his English peasant soldiers and given heart to all the camp, and just stands rooted there and goes “…huh.”

Well, actually what he says is Though it appear a little out of fashion, there is much care and valour in this Welshman, but what he means is “…huh.”

(And we know, because the Chorus brought us there, that the French can hear the English chorus. Faintly, distantly, but low and haunting in the way men’s voices can be. Is not their climate foggy, raw and dull, are they not with sickness much enfeebled, their numbers lessened— but they sing.)

Harry walked openly through the camp in the evening, from watch to watch, from tent to tent, and now though Henry is cloaked and striving privately for his own comfort Fluellen does the same with song and plucked string, and Henry stops, stands and watches, startled, amazed, and profoundly moved.

Owre Kynge went forth to Normandy
With grace and myght of chyvalry
Ther God for hym wrought mervelusly
Wherefore Englonde may call and cry

Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria!
Deo gratias Anglia redde victoria.

A sege he sette, forsothe to say,
To Harflu towne with ryal aray.
That toune he wan and made afray
That Fraunce shal rewe tyl domesday—

Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria!
Deo gratias Anglia redde victoria.



  1. notbecauseofvictories reblogged this from wearethemakersofmanners
  2. #I really really love this#it's heroic and noble and sad and great#music#henry V
  3. wearethemakersofmanners reblogged this from thatnightinminneapolis
  4. #henry v#shakespeare#music
  5. absenttheefromfelicity reblogged this from thatnightinminneapolis
  6. #hv#oh my god can we please stop with all the henry at agincourt feels now?#a little touch of harry in the night#is good maybe once a week#but every night to be balling about this perfect bastard is a little much#i think i know how harry feels now tbh#a day without craying about henry v is a day wasted#word
  7. thatnightinminneapolis reblogged this from silentstep
  8. #from this day to the ending of the world#brb crying about it#this is gorgeous
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There is so much on the internet that I missed over the weekend and I want to catch up

Listen to the second half of Othello and watch Chimes at Midnight/Silent Lady Hamlet/Olivier's Henry V/etc.

And write all the thoughts I am having about reading Othello for the first time

And respond to things people are saying on Tumblr

And reply to e-mails because OMG OMG

But ohgod work is done and I am out of can

Going to sleep now before I get any sicker


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I’m putting this up again, because it’s beautiful and never fails to make me super-emotional.  So many Henryfeels, and Fluellen feels, and feels for all of Henry’s soldiers.  And England.  And OMG FLUELLEN.  I’m probably going to put this up a third time after I see it again on Saturday, because OMG HENRY.

If you can possibly make it to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival’s Henry V— it has two more performances left, one tomorrow and one on Saturday, September 29— then I highly recommend you do so.

Michael Roth is the composer, though the words to the Agincourt Carol are traditional.

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So I have a few hours to kill before Tashlich (that's where you're supposed to symbolically empty your pockets of lint and debris to symbolise the renewal and fresh start that is the new year-- clearing away the detritus of the previous one-- which in my family has always translated as, uh, taking bread down to the river and feeding the ducks, because we are the best Jews) and I thought to myself "I will watch THC's Henry V! Because I have been wanting to watch it again for ages, and if I'm going to show it to Eema then I should have seen it recently myself so that I can translate properly and also won't be too distracted by watching myself to make sure Eema's getting everything and we don't have any more misunderstandings like the one about Fluellen and his, uh, position in Harry's army. Also I need to get some of my thoughts straight on York.

And oh, I understand why they cut the Southampton plot, but duuuuuuude I am so sad that we do not get the chance to see what Hiddleston would do with that scene. You guys. You guys. "Oh, let us yet be merciful!" Scroop! Exeter! Bedford! Hal being betrayed and being hurt and being harsh! Our Hal being kiiiiiiiing omg omg omg I want to give him all the hugs.

But anyway, so I opened the file and started to watch, being like "Yay! Henry V!" And then I remembered that it started with his funeral and I closed the window and was like "...nevermind I am not sure if I can handle that right now."


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I just realized

(augh augh augh)

The Duke of York in Henry V, you guys

The Duke of York

You know who he is?



That is so not okay I can't even. So not okay.

Excuse me I have to go away now and find somewhere to curl up and die of Shakespeare!feels. And Hollow Crown!feels, because Aumerle. AUMERLE IS THE DUKE OF YORK.

I mean, I knew that he was there, historically, I just never made the connection and-- and--- nonononono why do I have all the Aumerle feels why this was not supposed to happen this is not okay.

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The Agincourt speech made me cry. Actual literal tears. Dammit, Harry.

spoilers for The Hollow Crown's production of Henry V, in case that wasn't obvious )

Or sleep. Maybe sleep first.

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Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!
Or close the wall up with our English dead!

"Dear friends."

"Dear friends."

Can I just give Hal all the hugs?

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Narratives that revolve around fathers and sons. Eru Illuvatar above, am I ever sick of them. Because a.) Of course the child is male, why would we even question that ever, and b.) Half the time the mother of a child never even gets a name, let alone is allowed to, oh, have any kind of influence or pull over the child she goshdarn did *at least* half the work of raising. Lineage Comes From The Father as a trope is probably older than dirt, and I am bloody well sick of it. Howard Stark may have been a terrible father, but gee, what kind of mother was Maria? I don't know, because the narrative doesn't think it's important enough to tell me! Did Frigga ever show preference for one son over the other? Who knows? Thor and Loki only care about Odin's approval, because he's the one with actual power in this household, clearly! (God, Asgard, why you gotta be so awful.) Henry Plantagenet! Is his mother around? She's dead, right? We think so, because she sure as heck never even gets mentioned! Nate Ford had a mother, right? I think there was a line about her somewhere. But she obviously didn't have the chance to affect the formation of his character-- nope, that was 100% down to his dad. Luke's aunt and uncle must have known his mother, surely? Did anyone ever worry about or take reassurance in the presence of her genetics in Luke's blood? Did Luke ever ask to know what had happened to her? Eh, whatever, who cares!

Also, you ever notice how when a child in fiction is raised by a single mother, they spend their whole lives searching for a Strong Man to act as their father figure, but when they're raised by a single father, the only time you see them looking for a maternal figure is when they're young children trying to set their dad up with a nice lady because they want him to be happy, and the fact that she'd become a mother to them is weirdly secondary to that? Because moms are just that unimportant?

I don't even know why this bothers me so much, of all the things that could bother me, and I adored the latest Leverage episode (so many Eliot/Parker/Hardison feeeeeeels), but all that stuff about fathers and sons and just-- ugh. I'm so done with that. SO DONE. No more patience for the males in a family being the only ones who matter.

Now excuse me, I have to go give all of my money to Brave.

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Eru Illuvatar above, it's me. I mean, not literally me, but basically this was me at five years old. We have videos. This is exactly what I was like. THIS. This is what I was like.

Except at the end, when he draws his sword, instead of re-sheathing it I would have charged the camera with a mighty war-cry.

I tended to do that.

The videos we have also document this.


Oh wait.

I am still like this.

My sister and I were both home for a visit recently, and there is this thing where she doesn't like how I talk too loud when I get excited and I don't like how she tells me to quiet down when I'm excited, so to compromise she sat in the opposite corner of the room and told me I was free to raise my voice.

At which point I immediately took the opportunity to roar ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH, DEAR FRIENDS, ONCE MORE! OR CLOSE THE WALL UP WITH OUR ENGLISH DEAD! and she was like DUDE I CANNOT BACK AWAY ANY FURTHER but I delivered the entire speech anyway because yeah.

I have little sympathy, since it is entirely my sisters' fault for teaching me to declaim Shakespeare at the age of five.

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Richard II is a play about a clique of sociopathic teenagers (who honestly love and care about each other) being really upset that people won't let them be evil sociopathic dicks to everyone else.

That's it. Also there's some BS about divine right and a fuckton of the prettiest language you ever did see. Mostly from Richard, who fucking adores the sound of his own voice saying pretty words.

It's super-hard to be Henry Bolingbroke, in conclusion.


Oh come on

May. 10th, 2012 09:31 pm
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Look, the thing is, I don't even consider myself all that good at Early Modern English. Really. I like Shakespeare, but when it comes down to it, I haven't read all that many of his plays, I haven't seen more than two-thirds of them, and I've never made a study of his language. I failed out of Malory's Morte d'Arthur pretty early. I would have failed out of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales even earlier were the entire prologue-y thing not required reading. Yes I can usually conjugate verbs to agree with thou pretty smoothly, but I'm not always that confident about it.

But I really-- sometimes I just do not understand how people don't know words like these. I mean, these are not ancient obscure words that have faded from the modern lexicon, these are just words. I learned them from reading books and fanfics. I would not think it terribly strange if someone in my peer group said them in conversation. I mean, yes, my friends tend to be pretty well-read people, but. Come on. If you are surprised that I know these words, I am going to feel like you're insulting my intelligence.

Hey mainstream media: please stop insulting my intelligence.

Man, I am so bitchy in this journal lately, I'm sorry. In other news I feel less like I am getting sick now that I slept, and ate very nearly an entire medium pizza all by myself. I'm going up to Michigan tonight or tomorrow, depending on how things go (tomorrow is more likely), and am going to be there for at least a fortnight. May or may not be going to the Ancestral Home of Ely for Memorial Day Weekend, whenever that is, for Paul's Safta's birthday. Planning to see the Avengers movie with Eyal in MI, and then I will be able to surf the internet with impunity again.

I am trying not to get my expectations up too high. Movies are sometimes tough to watch when you're unabashedly on the villain's side. This is supposed to be avoidable in superhero flicks because those don't usually go for, you know, character depth, but then Kenneth Branagh came along and well. He does go for that sort of thing, actually. (Though not as much as-- well, he and I often disagree on interpretations of character, and, uh, interpretations in general, and-- well-- oh Kenneth Branagh. I heart him so.)

I need to get my hands on a copy of his Henry V and show it to Paul; Paul will adore his performance in that. Oooo speaking of Henry V, God for Harry, England, and Saint George.

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Try this fic:

It's Good Omens. It packs a punch. But it's very good. It's called Living Arrangements, and the description goes "Everyone is more or less human, even when they aren't."

today my orchestra took a field trip, buses and all, to grand rapids. We played a concert for donors, or something, and it ate my entire day on top of being sick, but because I'm sick it's gone fairly hazy now because I spent every free minute catnapping on whatever flat surface I could find. A wind player had to wake me up when the bus got back to East Lansing.

I was proud of myself for being able to remember a multi-note chord that I'd heard in a song and reproduce it.

I am trying to write Emily Roland!fic, and realizing that I don't remember the details of the Temeraire series as well as I should. Guess what that means? I get to reread them all!

I've also started reading Henry V. God for Harry! England and Saint George! And I can't shake the feeling that Shakespeare was a little bit high when he wrote this one, because srsly it does not make an awful lot of sense. True I haven't gotten very far but I mean- come on-

I dunno, I guess an American can never truly understand the beautiful endlessly conquery love that is France/England. (Because I don't get it at all. Someone, somewhere, wiped a probably pretty important spot in the French/English consciousness clean and wrote in- I don't even know, some sort of utter, utter insanity where the other is concerned. "YOU NEED TO CONQUER THEM," it says, perhaps. "AND IT'S PERSONAL.")

Cunegonde from Candide is a wonderful person. "If I'm not pure, at least my JEWELS are!" (Rock on.)

On Friday I gave blood. Felt very faint afterwards, which has never happened before.

Tamar has left for an Ulpan in the desert.

I need to stop reading fic about Norrington, because they are always always always so full of terrible terrible heartbreak. Brits are the silliest people in the world, srsly again.

(My wardrobe is expensive as the devil- ha ha!)

June Anderson has hair rather like mine. Also another girl on the bus thought that my hair came from African American ancestry.

And the other night I dreamt that I was dating Tuvok, which was AWESOME.

I'm going to bed. Night all. (felicitations to all present at the closing of day.)



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