Last monologue for Englishhhh, duigsduihgisdghsdl.
It’s set during Ophelia’s funeral, probably actually just a little bit after, and it’s from Gertrude’s point of view.
How much tragedy and loss can one woman take? It seems the world is testing me. My family and everybody around me are either dead, liars or sent away; how am I meant to cope with that? Ophelia’s drowning is just one tragedy too many. Her death is truly the loss of innocence and virtue in this household; she was the only pure one of us all, and now she is gone, and I am left to wonder, what if my Hamlet had done the same? He and Ophelia were in the same situation, so what if he had ended his life? I don’t think I could have bared it. I had once hoped that the two of them would be married, and that some normality would be brought to my home, and maybe Hamlet would be healed, but that can never be now. Nothing can ever be normal when everything you know is built upon lies and deceit. Not even the return of my Hamlet can fix things, for I know that his return can cause nothing but more harm. He has already damaged his situation further by mocking Laertes and jumping into Ophelia’s grave, although my heart breaks for him and his oh so apparent grief. I wish I could help him, but things are beyond my control now, if they were ever in my grasps to begin with.
Here’s another fic for you! Redemption.
This is all about Castiel at the beginning of season 7. No ships, can’t write ships, although I always manage to imply Destiel :’) I don’t think I did that in this one, though.
Looking around at the bodies surrounding him, Castiel realised that he was out of control. He needed to stop; he needed help; he needed the Winchesters, although he knew that was out of the question. He had never meant for things to get this bad, for anyone to get hurt; he had wanted to help, to make Earth a better place. No hate, no discrimination, just peace: those were the things he wanted for the people of Earth. He had just wanted to do as the Winchesters did: save lives and rid the world of evil, but he had screwed up. As he observed the bloodshed he had caused, he finally understood the human saying ‘the road to Hell is paved with good intentions’. This was Castiel’s personal hell: murdering innocent people, murdering angels, his brothers, and, mostly, losing the only friends he ever really had. Another human saying struck Castiel at the thought of his Sam, Dean and Bobby: absolute power corrupts absolutely. He had always thought human expressions to be silly and pointless, but now he fully understood how right they were.
Could someone read this and tell me if it’s alright?
It’s meant to be a short monologue from Gertrude’s point of view, just after act 3, scene 4 (the bit where Hamlet and his mum are in the closet)
The whole world is nothing but a façade. Everybody dons their masks and puts on their game faces, but none of it is real. You can never really know the people you care for the most, even though most of us would like to pretend we do. Even our own sons, our own husbands, can lie and pretend and keep secrets. My poor Hamlet, feigning madness because he can’t see any other solution. But is he really feigning, or is that just another lie? And Claudius, my beloved Claudius, could he really have killed my first husband, or is this just another rouse from Hamlet to make me feel guilt at my hasty remarriage? As if I don’t feel enough guilt for that already. As if I don’t feel guilt for everything: remarriage, distancing myself from Hamlet, sending him away? Claudius says it’s for the best, but after tonight, I don’t think I can believe him. I don’t know what to believe or what to do any more. Everything’s crumbling down around me, but what can I do? I may be the queen, but I’m still just a woman; I have no power without Claudius. If I confront him, or challenge him about what Hamlet told me, then I’ll lose my position in court and Hamlet will be completely at the mercy of Claudius, and I can’t let that happen. Hamlet is too fragile, he wouldn’t last a minute under Claudius’s cruelty.
I like to write angsty poetry.
You’re still just a boy,
With the soul of an old man.
Tired at mind, sick at heart,
You do the best you can.
Every day, you put on your game face,
And try to be so brave.
Just trying to make your old man proud,
With every person you save.
And then, of course, there’s Sammy,
Your world, your life, your all.
You do everything to protect him,
Always there to catch him if he should fall.
The weight of the world is on your shoulders,
So heavy, you fear you’ll break.
All you want to do it give up,
Every second that you’re awake.
But you carry on, like a soldier would.
You know the world depends on your strength.
You don’t ever want to let anyone down,
You’ll go to any length.
Have the sacrifices you’ve made been worth it?
What about your happiness, too?
So strong and independent on the outside,
Nobody even has a clue.
Rest your head, young soldier,
If only for a minute.
The world can wait one second longer,
But it really needs you in it.
Don’t give up the fight because you’re needed,
You’re more important that you know,
Just take a moment to catch your breath,
Now grab your gun, and let’s go.
Sympathy For The Devil
So I decided to write a fanfiction a while ago and I only just decided to put it on here because I personally think it’s shit and I just need somebody to confirm that so that I can stop pretending to myself that I’m good at writing thanks
It’s basically the story of Lucifer, because his character is actually really tragic and everyone’s like FUCK LUCIFER, when actually it should be like aww baby, come here and let me hug you. There’s no ships, it’s just Lucifer. The other archangels and God do appear, though. Yeah bro. Here goes nothing. It’s quite long so read it in the read more.
