• Why Am I Always Juliet? podcast promo
    Jul 9 2026
    Lucius Silver hates being Juliet. Blake Mortimer hates being Romeo. Shakespeare thinks they’re brilliant. The Queen thinks she’s doing them a favour. Everyone else thinks they’re witches. Welcome to the most disastrous Shakespeare production in history — where the storms are real, the daggers are sharp, and Juliet keeps trying to kill the playwright. This is Why Am I Always Juliet? — a supernatural comedy of errors where death, fate, and Elizabethan theatre collide.

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    2 mins
  • Don't Call Me Juliet! A Time Traveller's Lament v2
    Jul 9 2026
    Outro

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    1 min
  • Chapter 30 — And The Cycle Continues
    Jul 9 2026

    Days later, Blake and Lucius return to the Globe, cloaks pulled tight against the cold, trudging through moonlit silence like two men walking back into a crime scene.

    They breathe in the familiar wooden beams, the chill, the ghosts of every disaster they’ve ever performed.

    Lucius calls the new play one of the Bard’s better ones. Blake doubts all of them. They reminisce about killing Romeo and Juliet. They admit they were a brilliant disaster.

    Then comes the casting.

    Blake groans — the King of Death forced to play the King of the Fairies.

    Lucius huffs — forever doomed to be a woman.

    They reach the rehearsal room door. Blake sighs. Lucius rolls his eyes.

    Inside, Shakespeare beams far too brightly for the hour, the cold, or their mood.

    “Oberon and Titania, ready for rehearsal?”

    Blake and Lucius exchange the look of two men who have survived catastrophe together and are about to walk willingly into another.

    Lucius mutters he hates everything.

    Blake mutters he’s not wearing wings.

    The candles flicker. The cold settles. The stage waits.

    And the chaos begins again.

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    2 mins
  • Chapter 29 — A New Play, A New Day
    Jul 9 2026
    Weeks later, Blake and Lucius sit in the green room looking thoroughly depressed — condemned by royal decree to remain in the Chamberlain’s Men. The Queen thinks she’s doing them a favour. They think it’s a sentence. Shakespeare arrives far too cheerful, announcing their new roles with the smile of a man who enjoys their suffering. Blake groans. Lucius mutters. Shakespeare pats Lucius’s shoulder and calls him “a perfect woman.” The cast buzzes happily with their new parts. Blake and Lucius feel like the only two men awaiting execution. Then Bottom arrives — cheerful, oblivious, delighted — and asks their roles. Blake admits he’s Oberon. Lucius confesses he’s Titania. Bottom laughs, saying the roles were made for them. Lucius smiles sweetly and calls him an ass. Bottom beams, missing the insult entirely. Blake leans in, whispering, “He is an ass.” Lucius nods. “And we’re the fairies.” They groan together — two immortals trapped in yet another Shakespearean disaster.

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    3 mins
  • Chapter 28 — Juliet Does Not Bow
    Jul 9 2026
    Blake’s afterlife office is small, dark, and coffin‑quiet — the perfect place for a post‑mortem debrief. Lucius sits shivering in a rickety chair while Blake, in full Reaper form, looms behind a desk of glowing paperwork. The verdict arrives in Blake’s hollow echo: “You bowed.” Lucius panics. Blake repeats it. In a wedding dress. While dead. A parchment writes an incident report on its own. The cupboard creaks ominously. Lucius apologises. Blake softens — slightly — before reminding him he ruined “most things.” But then comes the twist: the Queen loved it. She called them her best comedians. Romeo and Juliet is now officially a comedy. Lucius groans. Blake gestures at his skeletal form, noting Shakespeare already tried to kill him. They laugh — a little. And when Blake reveals they’ve been promoted as the Queen’s favourite performers, both immortals groan in perfect unison… as the cupboard creaks its agreement.

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    4 mins
  • Act 4 The cycle continues.: Chapter 27 — Fallout
    Jul 9 2026
    Backstage after the most chaotic performance in Globe Theatre history, Blake and Lucius stand sheepishly, bracing for execution — or worse, Shakespeare’s disappointment. The cast is furious. Shakespeare looks ready to explode. He demands answers, scolds them, and waits for an explanation that never comes. Then the door opens. A woman enters. A woman no one recognises. A woman who absolutely shouldn’t be there. Shakespeare freezes. Blake and Lucius brace for doom. But instead of condemnation, she delivers praise — warm, delighted, heartfelt. She calls their disaster the best show she’s ever seen. Lucius brightens. Blake blinks. Shakespeare nearly faints. Because the woman is Queen Elizabeth I. She declares them the troupe’s best comedians and sweeps out, leaving Shakespeare staring at his two chaotic immortals. They gulp. “You were lucky,” he says darkly. And they know he’s right.

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    3 mins
  • Chapter 26 — Juliet Takes a Bow
    Jul 9 2026
    The laughter from the corpse‑kiss still echoes through the Globe when Blake rises, trying desperately to salvage the tragedy. Lucius lies frozen on the bier, mortified beyond words. Shakespeare prays backstage. The Queen wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. Blake reaches out to help Juliet’s “body” rise… and Lucius panics. He sits up too fast. The audience erupts again. Trying to regain dignity, Lucius remembers — vaguely — that Juliet should curtsy. But panic wins. He gathers his skirt like a duelist and delivers a full, stiff, masculine bow — knight‑to‑monarch — in Juliet’s wedding gown. The Queen howls with laughter. The audience explodes. Shakespeare ages ten years. Lucius whispers, “I panicked.” Blake whispers back, “You think?” And the most chaotic ending in theatre history barrels forward, unstoppable and adored.

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    2 mins
  • Chapter 25 — Kissing Death
    Jul 9 2026
    The final kiss looms — unavoidable, inevitable, and utterly terrifying. Lucius lies on the bier looking less like a tragic heroine and more like a man experiencing existential panic. Blake approaches him like someone about to kiss a corpse that might suddenly sit up and scream. The audience leans in. The Queen leans in. Shakespeare prays for one normal moment. Lucius twitches. Blake jumps. Laughter erupts. And when Blake finally kisses him, it’s stiff, hesitant, eyes half‑open — the least romantic death‑scene kiss ever performed. Queen Elizabeth claps with delight. Shakespeare staggers backstage, mourning his tragedy. Lucius opens his eyes, mortified. Blake pulls back, equally mortified. Two immortals stare at each other, knowing they have just created theatre history… for all the wrong reasons.

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    3 mins