ghost-of-laertes

[ghost-of-laertes]

idk what the character ask thing is but could I get my boy laertes if you haven't already done one for him?

omg of course!! thank you so much for the ask! i love him!!!

favorite thing about them: good ol' larry! i love his hypocrisy! he warns ophelia against hamlet while presumably dallying with others. what a guy! i like how much he cares for his family and would do anything for them, even if he could take like half a page from hamlet's book and stop and think for just a second.

least favorite thing about them: he's in france for most of the play :c

favorite line: this is so hard because i have several! i think i will go with: I tell thee, churlish priest, a ministering angel shall my sister be, when thou liest howling!

brOTP: hamlet and laertes! i love them as friends! i know a lot of people see them as rivals and i think there's validity in that but i think it's more of a friendly rivalry, personally! i think it makes their deaths at each other's hands cut deeper.

OTP: osric and laertes have known one another intimately i'm sure of it. i don't think osric was acting whenever he was talking about how great laertes is. i am out of my mind for this, perhaps

nOTP: laertes and horatio. i personally do not see it. maybe i'm crazy.

random headcanon: while laertes is loyal to his family to a fault, he is glad for his freedom in france. he doesn't envy people like hamlet who have their lives determined for them. his time at university is spent at his studies and fencing but he does have a love of partying and this has led him to attend lectures with a pounding headache.

unpopular opinion: i don't really agree that laertes and hamlet had a romantic/sexual relationship. i can see why people do think that but it doesn't fit in with the narrative in my head which we all know is gospel /j

song i associate with them: dirty imbecile by the happy fits! i also have this on my hamlet playlist

favorite picture of them: i don't have many pics of him but i love luke treadaway as laertes ;_; he's pictured here with kirsty rider as ophelia!

[ghost-of-laertes]

Holocene art!

[ghost-of-laertes]

Holocene

My newest long fic on AO3! As of posting this I have six chapters out!

[ghost-of-laertes]

Read on AO3...

Read Here...

Firewood and Autumn Leaves

Mike woke early, like he did every morning. It was still dark, and he lay in bed, listening to the trees outside, to Will’s even breaths, and the the low creak of the cold floorboards. It was warm beside Will, but he finally pulled himself from the comfort of the sheets. 

The floorboards were cold against his bare feet. Mike stole to the front door, slipping his well worn slippers on. Through the window he could see the forest, looming and comfortable. A promise of safety. A chilly breeze was chasing through the treetops.

Cold seemed to seep into each floorboard, and Mike shivered. A glance to the fireplace told him last night's fire had long since burned out. After pulling on a warm wool jacket, Mike set about quietly building a fire. He sat before it for a long time, watching the flames flicker across the dried herbs and Will’s artwork that hung on the wall. It reminded him of autumn leaves caught in a flurry of wind.

The warmth hadn't yet reached the kitchen as Mike began making coffee. He hummed softly, knowing it wouldn’t wake the soundly sleeping Will, no matter how hard he tried. Dawn was just creeping over the horizon as Mike waited for the coffee to brew. The sun cast hazy light through the foggy woods, illuminating the dark pines and dry blades of grass. 

An indent from yesterday was still pressed onto the couch cushions as Mike dragged a blanket and book to his favorite spot. He still had a few hours until Will woke up, so he settled in to read, coffee mug in hand. 

Light hung across the living room, the sun greeting the day with vigor. Sounds came from the bedroom, of sleepy shuffling and tired yawns. Will emerged, roused by the smell of coffee and woodsmoke. 

“G’moring,” he smiled at Mike, bed head falling into his bleary eyes.

“Morning,” Mike replied, offering his half empty mug to Will. Will took it gratefully. “There’s more for you in the kitchen, if you want it.”

“Hm,” Will mumbled, handing the mug back and landing a clumsy kiss on Mike’s lips. “Thank you.”

Mike smiled after him as Will trotted to the kitchen, pouring himself a generous amount of coffee. The light from the kitchen window tumbled across the room, silhouetting Will in a golden glow. Mike found that rather fitting.

They sat together on the couch, sharing a blanket and each other’s warmth. Mike often thought he might as well have been born here, with Will’s head on his shoulder, their legs tangled together. Both of them read books, and neither felt neglected. 

Mike regretted having to move. The house was comfortably warm now, and even the kitchen, filled with sunlight and the smell of coffee, felt inviting. It wasn’t long before two eggs sizzled cheerfully on the stove, and two slices of toast lay atop the fireplace to warm. 

“Breakfast,” Mike called, expertly flipping the egg onto two separate plates. Will looked no less impressed than he had the first time. 

The toast was warm, and the butter spread over it easily. It all tasted wonderful with Will’s homemade jam and a sprinkle of dried pepper.

Will cleared the dishes as Mike set about the house aimlessly, walking between the few rooms of their cabin, and poking his head into the morning air. With a sigh, he stepped outside, his slippered feet crunching on the dead leaves scattered about. He had chores to do.

The chickens clucked happily as Mike approached with a bucket of kitchen scraps for them to eat. When they were distracted with food, he slipped his hand into the nest boxes and pulled out three still warm eggs. As he walked back to the front door, he looked again across the forest, an idle song hummed on his lips. 

Mike tidied up the house for the rest of the morning, before Will even asked him to. By the time he finished Will was making a lazy lunch of fried vegetables, and it filled the room with delicious smelling smoke. 

They ate and laughed and reveled in the noon sunlight, warm and inviting despite the cool autumn day. Cleaning the few dishes was easy, and they made a small game of it. 

Mike flopped onto the newly tidied couch, his guitar on his lap as he idly practiced some song or another, the words half buried in his mind. Will sat at the kitchen table, painting a landscape, or seascape, or forestscape in the sunlight from the window. Mike knew it would look fantastic, even if Will wouldn’t like it at first.

As Will finished painting, perfectly framed by the slowly fading light, Mike slipped outside to gather firewood. He pulled his jacket on, shivering in the bright, crisp evening air. When he went to chop wood, it was no longer a release for his anger or fear, but rather something to keep him focused on now. The now where he didn’t have to be angry and afraid anymore. Where he lived safely, with Will beside him always.

Every stroke of the axe sent vibrations through his arms and echoed off the cabin and the many trees. Every split in the world brought him back to the cold air, burning his lungs and reminding him what it felt like to be alive.

It may have been hours, or only a few minutes, but finally Mike had a pile of wood ready to burn. He stacked most of it under a tarp to keep dry, taking an armfull inside. He was greeted by the smell of freshly baked apple pie filling the room, mingling with the smell of the mint and onions which hung to dry. The smell warmed his wind bitten skin, sinking all the way to his core.

Mike and Will sat at the table, indulging in dessert before they’d even cooked dinner, as giddy as children breaking a rule for the first time. The rest of the evening was spent curled together on the couch, talking, reading, singing, it didn’t matter what. And as the last rays of light hugged the trees and distant hillsides, Mike pulled himself from Will’s warmth and made ready for bed. 

That night, long after the last drops of sunlight faded from the cold fog, Mike half woke to Will crawling into bed beside him, pulling Mike close to share his warmth as the wood burning stove crackled in the other room. 

And Mike drifted off to sleep knowing that, despite tomorrow being the same as every day, he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life, just like this, beside Will. 

[ghost-of-laertes]

Read on AO3...

Read here...

It's Golden Hour in Hawkins

Cool afternoon sunlight dappled Will’s canvas as he added another brushstroke. The birdsong and rustling of trees were interrupted by quiet static. 

“Will, where are you?” Dustin’s voice crackled through Will’s walkie-talkie. Will leaned farther back against the tree behind him, ignoring the question yet again. 

“Will, c’mon. You know Lucas didn’t mean it. Lucas!” Dustin needlessly raised his voice. “Tell Will you didn’t mean it.”

Dustin’s line shut off with a beep. Another beep sounded. “I did mean it, though,” Lucas crackled. 

Dustin shouted “Lucas–!” before the line went dead.

Will sighed, trying to ignore the tears that welled up in his eyes. He reminded himself that it was just a stupid argument. Lucas would come around to apologize. Will would apologize too when Lucas was ready to hear it. It was hard to focus on that, though, with Lucas’ harsh words ringing in his ears.

Painting helped distract him, along with the gentle sound of the trees and the faint birdsong. It was easy to forget the world and just get lost in the art. It was easy to turn off the walkie-talkie and let his paintbrush lead his hand.

It was later than Will liked when he finally looked up from his finished canvas. The sun slid below the treeline as Will packed up his paints and started home. He just listened to his bike tires spin against the road and his own steady breathing, leaving the peace of the forest behind. He hoped his mom would be home late from work so she wouldn’t worry about him.

It was still light out as Will pushed his bike into the shed. He always forgot how long summer days lasted in Hawkins. Jonathan wasn’t home yet, and neither was his mom, so Will set about making himself dinner. As his food cooked, Will changed out of his street clothes and prepared for a quiet evening of watching television. 

Will sat on his sofa cross-legged, absently shoving food into his mouth as his glazed eyes looked past the advertisements on the screen. He was about to change the channel when he heard something hit his window. Will turned off the TV and listened. 

Thwap. It sounded like a rock hitting the glass. Will stood up and carefully glanced out the window before letting himself out the back.

Mike stood at the bottom of the short stairs, looking prepared to throw another rock. He glanced away from the window and grinned when Will stepped outside. He reached up, clasping both of Will’s hands in his own.

“Let’s get away, yeah?”

Will returned the smile, unable to ignore the flutter in his chest. “Yeah, ‘course.”

Will stepped down the stairs with bare feet, ignoring the crisp wind that blew through the trees and against his bare arms. He let Mike lead the way to a bicycle leaning against the house. Mike motioned for Will to get on behind him, and cast one last smile over his shoulder before kicking off the ground and starting out of the driveway. Will slid his arms around Mike's waist, leaning his cheek against Mike’s gray flannel. It smelled just like him, and Will wanted to breathe it in forever.

Will closed his eyes and listened to Mike's rapid heartbeat, not knowing or caring where they were going. He only opened his eyes again when the bike slowed down and he had to prepare to dismount. Will was greeted with a view of the forest from above, the sun setting behind it and reflecting across the quarry lake. Will had been here a thousand times before, but never at this time of day, with the sun painting the sky pink and the world golden. 

Will and Mike sat down on the hill overlooking the quarry. The green grass below them was the only remnant of spring in the otherwise dry landscape. 

“Are you cold?” Mike asked with concern in his eyes.

Will realized he was shivering and nodded. Mike pulled off his flannel and draped it over Will’s shoulders. His hands stayed there a moment, slowly rubbing up and down Will’s arms in an attempt to warm them.

“You know they didn’t mean it, right?” Mike was talking about the argument from earlier that day.

“Yeah,” Will replied, his eyes tugging up to meet Mike’s. “It sure doesn't feel that way, though.”

“Just give it time.”

Will nodded, his gaze still locked with Mike’s. His eyes were rich brown, but in the fading sunlight, they were also the color of honey with little flecks of gold. They were beautiful.

Before Will noticed, Mike was closing the distance between them, and their lips met more forcefully than Will had anticipated. He caught himself with his hand as he fell back with Mike leaning into him, and a surprised laugh escaped his lips. He felt Mike smile, his lips warm against Will’s. A moment later, they were both laughing, Mike rolling off of the collapsed Will.

Will and Mike lay facing each other on the grass. Will’s back was warmed by the slowly setting sun which drenched Mike’s pale face in gold. Will’s eyes traced over the faint freckles that painted Mike’s skin, and the way his dark hair lay over his shoulders. The two boys murmured sweet nothings to each other as the last rays of light lost their grip on the sky.

Mike’s warm hand was wrapped around Will’s as they lay on their backs, their sides pressed together. Their quiet conversation faded to even breathing as Will’s heavy eyelids fell shut. Will knew his mother would worry. He knew tomorrow he would have to explain himself to her. He knew tomorrow he would have to apologize to Lucas. Tomorrow was where his problems were. But right then, Will was curled against Mike's rising and falling side, their heartbeats in sync under the pale starlight. Right then, his problems were worlds away, under a different night sky, and he was free to focus on nothing but Mike’s warm hand and the smell of Mike’s flannel. Right then…everything was perfect.