Yup I’ll give you a random ask: Tell me all about Hamlet. The character, not the play. I mean you can also tell me about the play if you want. Also you can tell me all about how Horatio and Laertes are excellent foils to him. Also how they’re both excellent characters too (unless you disagree, but given your username I doubt you dislike Horatio).

colalexander-deactivated2021010:

Oh boy, do I have a lot to say about Hamlet.

Hamlet, who was destined from birth to be king, born into wealth and into the arms of loving parents.

Hamlet, who grew to be soft, physically and mentally, and kind. A boy who loved philosophy, who had a passion for theatre and his studies, not muscular or built for war like his father. Too fat by his mother’s standards, not manly enough by his uncle’s standards, not hard or determined enough by his father’s. Witty enough to fit in with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, clever enough to earn Horatio’s admiration, charming enough to win Ophelia’s affections.

Hamlet, who privately hoped the day when he would become king would never come. The young prince much preferred his studies, the gentle banter between him and Horatio in the halls of Wittenberg, flirtations with Ophelia that would remain lighthearted and unburdened with the obligation to court her, the comfort of two parents who loved each other. He wasn’t made for war, he wasn’t made for triumphs and gorey battlefields. 

Hamlet, who lost his composure when the news broke that his father was dead, Horatio in shock at his side. The guilty moment of sick hope when he learned that Claudius was to be king, that he may continue with his studies, only for that small comfort to be shattered by his mother’s pleas to return to Denmark. 

Hamlet, broken as he set off alone, leaving what was now the closest thing he had to home to return to the empty one, without his dear Horatio. Shaken with grief that flashed between the throes of suicidal dreams and white hot anger of the injustice of it all, watching his mother take her brother in law in marriage not even a year after his beloved father’s death. More than a decade of marriage dissolving in one meaningless kiss. 

Hamlet, who was surrounded by ghosts. Ophelia, whose love was bitter and meaningless now, now that he knew he would have to marry her, now that he had no choice. He would have to find a queen, and would she just as easily leave him? Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, their jokes turned sour, lurking in the shadows, the friendliness gone from their eyes. Claudius, the late king’s own brother, trying to take the place of his father. His mother, worst of all, his mother who should be grieving beside him, who abandoned him to his misery. 

Horatio was the one thing that kept him from leaving it all. Horatio who walked beside him when no one else would.

Hamlet, who now had to kill his own blood. And by the end of it all, more blood than he could ever imagine would stain his hands. Horatio was the one person who assured him it was real. Even when his mask of madness was beginning to feel eerily like his true skin, Horatio kept him grounded. Without him, without him where would he be? Would he be?

Hamlet, who was never enough. Not compared to Laertes, the young man Claudius wishes were his real nephew and step son, Fortinbras, who rose to power in the wake of his own father’s death, even his dearest Horatio, strong and levelheaded through it all. Despite it all.

Hamlet, whose grief clouded every thought, until the very end. The prince who was meant to be scholar turned murderer instead. A philosophy who choked on his own dreams and indecision, unable to save the one other person who suffered the same fate, and she suffered it at his hands. 

Hamlet, who died in his best friend’s arms, with Denmark rotting all around him. 

Hamlet, who gave up his life to finish his father’s.

Hamlet, whose one wish came true;

Hamlet, who died before he could become king.

Me: sends an ask

You: somehow jumps inside Hamlet’s brain, sees his whole life flash before your eyes, lays it all down in words that sum it up and describe it in the most beautiful, tragic, and somehow poetic way possible. Everyone reading it will cry.

 This is beautiful. This is the definition of beauty. This is perfection. This exceeds any and all expectations. I thought the response would be like “lol he’s neat- a very complex character”. This. This is amazing. I can’t even describe how much I love it.