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crypticpuffin · 10 months

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The University of Wittenberg was not for the faint of heart. It was, however, for the deep of pocket. Horatio was no such student– though many had gotten in through their family’s connections, he had gotten in solely through academic merit and promise (after all, God knows his family could never have paid for his education without the full scholarship he had received). As a result, Horatio, the son of parents that had never approached affluence, found himself in a university in a town in Germany full of rich people who had never experienced hardship– or so he assumed.

Horatio was a good soul, however, and tried to never resent his colleagues for how they had found their ways to this place– in fact, his very best friend, Ophelia, had connections with none less than the royal family, though she didn’t like to talk about it. He simply tried to go on with his university experience and make the most of it (mostly by studying and taking too many classes), and treat his fellow students with benevolence but, mostly, ambivalence.

So how did he find himself in this situation?

He shared exactly one class with this person– romantic poets 101 –which just happened to be Horatio’s best class, both in terms of grades and his enjoyment of it.

So how was this… emo guy doing better than him?

You may, as of now, have noticed that Horatio had a bit of a competitive streak. It took a lot to get him to show it, so it usually wasn’t evident, but by god, this all-black-wearing, perpetually-never-listening-to-you, broody-as-shit guy was more than enough to awaken that in him. The guy didn’t look like he’d ever seen the light of the sun, either, thought Horatio once while observing him once in class (as academic rivals do), which he thought was actually… really sad. But he wasn’t about to start feeling sorry for him! Even if this guy had the most messed-up life in the history of the universe, he wasn’t just going to start pitying him for it. No. He was clearly his equal in academic terms and pity was something Horatio chose not to burden people with as a rule.

“So, is he cute?”

Horatio groaned. The librarian glared at him overtly through her narrow glasses, clearly disapproving of anyone who made their frustration known in the library. Of course, he knew that wasn’t Ophelia’s main concern (at least most of the time), but rather that she was trying to playfully annoy him with such an asinine remark.

“That is so far from the point I fear we’ll need a search team to find it again,” he replied, successfully irritated.

“You still haven’t answered the question, though. It’s kind of crucial information for me to make a judgment on this,” she said, crinkling her nose as she did.

Horatio groaned again, and again the librarian glared at him, even less subtly.

“Can we… can we drop this? His appearance is irrelevant. He could be a worm for all I care, as long as he was a sufficiently high-achieving worm to merit my attention.”

“Does that mean he looks like a worm?”

“Ophelia!” Horatio cried softly, still to the chagrin of the librarian.

“What?? I think worms are cute!” she said, holding back her laughter.

“This is actually important to me! This guy is actively distracting me from my studies. And I don’t mean–”

“No, no, I know what you mean. You guys are rivals, right? Competing for the high score or whatever,” she responded, cutting him off to his relief. She did not, however, sound very enthused.

“When you put it that way, you make it sound kind of pointless.”

“That’s because it is. Honestly, at least talk to him or something. Do you have to, like, rival him? Challenge him, whatever?” she asked searchingly.

“Look, it’s not like we’re proper rivals or anything. It just… really eats away at me, you know? It gets me. It’s like he’s not even trying, but he still manages to do better?” he explained, painfully.

Ophelia could see that Horatio was really worked up about this, that this meant something to him. She debated the matter in her head– first, she would have to find out who this person was. Secondly, she would need to strategize. Perhaps lure him in? Trap him? Threaten him to do worse at school?

“Ophelia?”

She snapped back to her senses. “Oops. Lost in thought again.” She cackled distressingly, as she was prone to do (the librarian, again, did not enjoy this new development). “Anyway, why don’t we talk about something else to get your mind off of it?”

“Like what?” he asked, tired. The day of studying had worn him out, and this conversation hadn’t helped so far.

“Like the fact that Hamlet, prince of Denmark is studying here! Who'da thunk it, me and Hamlet in the same place, back together again. The world throws some crazy shit at you,” she said, trying to seem like she didn’t really care. But the fact was, she did care. More than she cared to admit, and Horatio could tell.

“Weren’t you guys childhood friends or something? Back when you lived in Elsinore?” Horatio asked cautiously.

Ophelia’s expression darkened. From what little he knew of her time there, Horatio knew her time there had been a less than happy one. But in a moment, she “corrected” herself and the shadow over her face disappeared. “Yeah, way back when. We actually dated, if you can believe it,” she said, smiling a little too much. “Y’know, before my raging lesbian era.”

“Oph, you know you can tell me anything, right? I mean you don’t have to, but…” he trailed off, concern showing in his face. “I mean, did he treat you ok? Is that why it hurts to talk about him?”

“Why do you think it hurts to talk about him?” she said, falteringly.

“Because I can see it in your eyes, Oph. We’re friends. I can tell,” he replied without hesitation. “I can always tell. Or, at least, I should.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” replied Ophelia— now she was getting a bit worried about him. He always took too much weight on his shoulders. “You’re my friend, not my caretaker. And I say that with affection, because you would be a terrible caretaker,” she joked, knowing it wasn’t true. Horatio chuckled despite himself. It was too easy to make him laugh, especially when Ophelia was involved. “All right,” he responded. “I’ll be kinder to myself. And I’ll try to not pry so much either.” He reached out for her hand and, for a moment, he felt absolute irrational terror that it wouldn’t be there when he tried to touch it. But his fears melted away as soon as he felt the warm touch of her skin, and he felt somewhat reassured— although he knew a simple touch couldn’t kill either of their demons, it was worth a shot.

At least it was worth it to see her smile.

****

The next day was much of the same.

Horatio worked hard, Ophelia less so (but still resulting in excellent grades) and the mysterious person in Horatio’s poetry class… continued to (at least this was the way it appeared in Horatio’s eyes) slack off and still got better grades or, at least, more commendation from the teacher, Prof. Fortinbras. Over the days that came, Horatio took to sitting next to the “overachiever” to try and see his grades. Unfortunately, this would result in a tragic misunderstanding.

Hamlet had noticed the guy who had started sitting next to him. He often didn’t notice people– many of them blended together for him– but it was hard to miss this particular one. Who could fail to notice a blond mullet like that? Not that he cared, but this guy certainly seemed to. More than once, Hamlet had noticed him peering over to his desk, trying to catch a glimpse of something. But why? What could be his motivation?

In that moment, Hamlet nearly gasped aloud in the middle of class. Could it be…? Yes… it made sense, he thought. He knew little of romance but a little of infatuation, so perhaps this was that guy’s deal.

“Yes, I believe he digs me,” Hamlet murmured quietly to himself, a broody expression on his face. This was troubling news.

Horatio was beginning to regret sitting next to this guy. Hearing the words that just came out of his mouth, despite not knowing who he was referring to, made him rethink his position. Firstly, who says the word dig in that context anymore? Secondly, is this really what he’s thinking about during class? Some guy? He sighed. Perhaps he wasn’t even worthy of being his rival if he was wasting time thinking about some crush of his, and yet… perhaps he was. He may use outdated slang from the 70’s, but watching him recently, Horatio knew he was accomplished and capable as a student. But as a person… he had no way of knowing that, then.

Horatio finally realized he had been staring for far too long and had lost track of the lecture, so frantically, he returned his attention to his own station and glued his eyes to the large blackboard, scribbling notes furiously until his nail caught on his pencil and splintered. Shit, he thought as a drop of blood dripped down his finger. But it didn’t matter. He simply wiped off the blood and kept writing.

Professor Fortinbras didn’t usually take an interest in his students, but he had to admit whatever that blond and brunette had going in the second row had been entertaining him quite a bit. It was still very early in the semester, so he hadn’t learnt everyone’s names yet, but still, their peculiar interactions made him chuckle. He could recognize infatuation when he saw it— he’d has his own “rivalry” at that age. Now, where had all the years gone? He’d lost his land, his title… at least he still had his son, but even he was slipping away from him. It took all his concentration to tear himself from his thoughts and return his attention to the lecture and he noticed the young blond man in the second row had turned away from the brunette. He didn’t look happy. But it was none of his concern. He frowned and went on with his life.

*****

A week later

Horatio tried peering discreetly at the test placement boards. I mean, he tried. But there were a bunch of people in front of it, so he was forced to instead push his way through the crowd as gently as he could (which wasn’t very gently at all). In a few moments of struggle that seemed to him an eternity, he found himself at the very front of the sign, which seemed to loom gargantuanly before him, growing bigger by the moment. All the names were scribbled, illegible, except for just one, at the very bottom– in little, pathetic letters which sighed with defeat at its very existence, was written HORATIO. He felt dizzy, his head spinning, and tried to push his way back through the crowd, but instead the crowd pushed him, straight at the sign, at such a horrific speed that he was certain that he was gonna break every bone in his body. He tried to scream, but no sound left his throat. It was getting closer, closer, the wind around him picking up speed, faster, until—

He went straight through the sign, and was launched into a black, empty void. All around him, only blackness, silence. He was floating weightlessly in the void, surrounded by nothing, crushed by everything. This couldn’t be. How could this be? He tried to touch ground, or sky, but found nothing but space, emptiness. He looked at his arm– there was nothing there. He looked down, and saw absolutely nothing. He did not exist. He wanted to cry, but had no tear ducts, no face, no heart. He was just… nothing. He thought without a brain, he thought he wanted to just exist. To just be.

So he closed his eyes, and there he was.

All corporeal and back together again. He grasped his arms, his shoulders, his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was real again.

But where was he?

The location was certainly eerie: a desolate-looking pond, with a low fog hanging around it, and he could just make out a sinister-looking castle in the distance. The water in the pond looked… wrong somehow, as if it was heavier and more toxic than actual water. But more than that, there looked like there was something… no, someone in the water. He caught a glimmer of dull ginger, but then it vanished and something else caught his attention– a man sitting on a stone bench at the edge of the water. He was partly concealed by the mist, but Horatio could tell he had dark hair and black clothes and very pale skin. In fact, he looked like… he was certain he looked like someone, but couldn’t remember who. Entranced, he approached him and stood next to him. At this distance, he could now see that the man, who must have been his age, had buried his face in his hands.

“Hello?” said Horatio. No response. Was he in distress? Was he waiting for someone? He couldn’t tell. So, he sat by him on the cold stone and looked at him. Oddly, his clothes didn’t seem modern at all– instead they looked like something that might have been worn in the middle ages or something. Weird.

“I’m Horatio. What’s your name?”

Slowly, the man began to react. He turned his face towards Horatio, but with his hands still there in that weeping position, as if they were glued to his face. He began to tremble, and slowly, removed his hands to reveal the face of a rotting corpse, the eye sockets sinking into the rancid skin of the face, the eyes unseeing. The teeth trembled, angled haphazardly in the misshapen mouth.

“H-Horatio?”

When Horatio awoke, he found himself safe in his dorm, but a horrific scream filled the room.

He realized it was coming from his throat.

He stopped himself, and noticed he was covered in sweat. The bed was all in disarray, and he was left sitting there with a blank expression on horror on his face.

He couldn’t remember what had just happened.

Notes:

This is only part one! Hopefully, I'll write more, but I can't guarantee I'll finish it. @withasideofshakespeare, this is based on your request! Sorry if it's more angsty than you wanted, but y'know, writing takes turns (dark ones sometimes). This is my first time publicly sharing a fic, so please... be nice...

Read the next part here: https://www.tumblr.com/crypticpuffin/723690710024454144/another-day-entirely-hamlet-moodily-walked-to-his?source=share

#hamlet #shakespeare #tragic danish boyfriends #hamratio #fanfic #hamlet fic #hamlet fanfiction #shakespeare fanfic #tw death #tw gore #tw horror #tw mental illness

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withasideofshakespeare · 1 year

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I’ve been meaning to share this little ficlet I wrote for Hamlet. Feel free to read if you’re interested!

Claudius and Gertrude survive the end of Hamlet. Gertrude gets revenge for her son (and the rest of Denmark).

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hamlet - Shakespeare Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: (implied) Hamlet/Horatio, (unhappily) Claudius/Gertrude, (minimally implied) Rosencrantz/Guildenstern Characters: Gertrude (Hamlet), Claudius (Hamlet), Horatio (Hamlet), Hamlet (Hamlet)

#hamlet #shakespeare #hamlet fanfiction #that can't be a particularily popular tag lol #gertrude gets her revenge #as she should #fun fact: this is the shortest fic i have ever published by a margin of thousands of words #it is also my shortest fic in general #as most of my wips are already well into the thousands of words

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hemmingsleclerc · 4 months

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''Is it obvious?'' Timothée Chalamet

timothée chalamet x fem!reader

ynln

Liked by tchalamet, tomholland13 and 1,482,794 others

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zendaya my girlllll ❤️

tomholland13 🙌

tchalamet

Liked by zendaya, ynln and 1,583,753 others

tchalamet DUNE BTS

username since when yn follows timmy omg

username for a while now!!!

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username does anyone know if zendaya and timmy are dating?

username Idk but some fans say she has something with tom

enews

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enews timothee chalamet was seen with a girl in the airport this morning looking very close sources confirm

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username he looks so happy😭💕

ynln posted a story!

caption:💗💗

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tchalamet has posted a story

caption: rainy days with the best company🙌❤️

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yndaily

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yndaily NO WAY YN AND TIMOTHÉE KISSING TODAY IN NY

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username I KNEW IT ''JUST FRIENDS'' MY ASS

ynln

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ynln I picked the right one ❤️

tagged: tchalamet

tchalamet MY GIRL!!!! ❤️💃💃💋

zendaya 🥺💕

tomholland congrats mates!

blakelively so so happy for you two!!

vancityreynolds blake's crying for you but anyway, congratulations kids! but keep those photos for yourselves xx

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hamlets-ak · 1 year

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pygmalion and galatea ༊*·˚

༘♡ do you have sinful thoughts sometimes?

in which regulus is a painter and you are his muse

*18+, minors DNI, sexual themes & references, romantic dynamic, first time, consent

Your eyes were fixed on him and couldn't look away.

Regulus had the face of Apollo. Sharp yet smooth features with soft curves, plump reddish lips, and a slim straight nose with a little bump on it. His seemingly tired eyes were like the sky on a winter's day, rounder on the outside, corners pointing downwards.

Everything on him was so balanced and symmetric, even the curls that were spread messily around him. Watching the hair fall on top of his forehead, covering his eyes, made you want to just extend your hand to brush it off, and lovingly pull it behind his ear.

He glanced up at you for a few moments at the feeling of your persistent stare, causing your eyes to move to the window behind him immediately. You gulped embarrassed that for only a second or two, he caught you darting him. You heard a smile forming on his face as he turned back to his canvas.

You had been working with Regulus for quite a while. He was laconic, only saying what was necessary to be said, nothing more, nothing less. However, your curiosity had forced you to spend hours and hours just examining him. You had learned every move of his by heart.

When he didn't like something he curled up his nose in discomfort. When he didn't like your pose or wanted you to fix your posture, he was biting his lips while quickly exchanging glances between you and the canvas. When he was running his hands through his hair, you knew you were done for the day. He didn't need to say a word and you understood immediately what he meant.

His gaze moved back to you and his eyes stayed there for longer than you expected. Without knowing he was still looking at you, you dared to glance at him. He smiled watching you hold your breath and lightly shook his head at the irony of your timidness.

The dark candlelit room was exhaling an erotic air. The trembling orange glow was softly hugging the curves of your body, as you were laid naked on a couch only a few meters away from him; your head balanced on your left hand that was on top of your right one, both placed on the arm of the couch, as your body was spread sideways; your right thigh on top of your left that was lightly extended to the front, creating shadows that were hiding your secret spots.

You had posed for many artists in the past but Regulus was the only one able to bring you self-consciousness. He made you feel vulnerable in front of him and incredibly nervous. Little did you know to Regulus you were the most beautiful muse that existed. He was in love with you just like Pygmalion was in love with Galatea.

Because of you, he was living in a constant contradiction. He wanted to look at you all day every day, but at the same time, he couldn't wait for you to leave so he could relax himself at the thought of your free body laying on his couch.

The secret to not revealing his feelings for you was to not speak and not look at you. But that day maybe it was the lust in the atmosphere, maybe it was your pose, maybe it was your siren stare, but he felt extremely bold and decided to play along.

You watched his Adam's apple rising and falling as he maneuvered his hips to the seat. You gulped and your lips separated at the view of his pants getting tighter. Regulus' grip on his pencil got harder, so tight almost able to break it in half. His eyes were sealed shut. Looking at him like that you couldn't help but press your legs together. You needed him right at that moment. As if Regulus heard your prayers, he looked at you, eyes dark by shadows, and let the pencil fall to the ground. You repositioned yourself, as you turned your head to the large windows on the side. He was the one with the huge bulge between his legs but somehow you ended up feeling completely ashamed because you just happened to look at him.

You heard the sound of the chair against the wooden floor and then slow steps towards you. You gulped, as you turned around only to see Regulus standing right in front of you, crouched to meet your height.

Your lips separated releasing hot breaths. Heartbeat became unsteady when his dirty palm touched your cheek, leaving red stains of paint behind it. He held you, his thumb trailing all the way up until it reached your ear, as his other fingers hugged the side of your neck.

His head leaned close and eyes moved from your sparkling stare to your soft lips. With forehead almost touching forehead and tasting the other's breath, you tented your neck closing the gap between you. Your hand moved to his wrist, fingers wrapped kindly around his pulse.

Regulus tied both hands on the back of your neck lightly standing up and sitting on the couch beside you, then leaning his body against yours.

His lips were silky and felt like you were touching clouds. You let his hand free run down the line between your chest and find his way to the curve of your waist, coloring you as he swam down your body.

You gasped hard at his arm that traveled back on your breast, your nipple captive of his pale fingers. Regulus' breath was coming out in flustered pants. His lips moved to your jaw, kissing tenderly your neck and then down your collarbones, ending on your chest. You could feel his sweaty hair caressing your skin. You moaned pulling his curls behind, holding them out of his face, while he was licking, lightly sucking your nipples.

He smiled as he kissed your belly and you breathed out shakily watching the way his grey eyes were fixed on you. He moved lower and lower until he ran his tongue on your pubic hair, his hands rubbing both sides of your outer thighs and then your buttocks.

You chuckled at him, your little laugh breaking the deadly silence that dominated the room. He couldn't help but smile again, his eyes meeting yours, as his fingers moved into your inside thighs and then slowly on your knees.

He moved one of your legs and without much thinking, he dived in between them. He looked up at you as he sucked your folds and buried his tongue inside. Your hands pulled his hair and pressed him down on you, not being able to keep up with his teasing.

You were already so wet, Regulus must have realized himself, that's why he was looking at you. Your head fell back on the arm of the couch as you moaned. Every time he got deeper and deeper, faster and faster, sucking your folds hard as if trying to drain them. He made you completely soaked and you were ready to release with trembling legs that he held both sides steady while his head was deep finding its way inside you.

Feeling that you were ready to cum, Regulus pulled back and sucked your folds. His head came out of your thighs to take a breath and a cry escaped your lips, holding tightly his wrist to the couch. You gave in to your orgasm.

He leaned down and with a mischievous smile, his tongue lashed at everything it could get while sucking on you at the same time. He had you in his mouth, dripping from his lips.

Regulus stood up and pecked your lips once. Your eyes followed him, your whole body panting, looking at him carelessly unbuttoning his white shirt and tossing it to the floor next to you. You leaned down on the couch to both your elbows gazing at him grinning and taking down his black pants, followed by his stained trunks.

Your head slightly tilted to the side, in your face marked a dreamy look. His body was lean with taut muscles and an erection that made you wonder how could he fit inside you without tearing you apart.

He carefully fell on top of you, on that old worn-out couch. His chest was pressed on top of yours and you could feel his bulge between your legs. He groaned, locking you between his arms, his cock trying to find its way inside you. Your hands took his wet length squeezing it gently before placing it on your opening.

Only the tip of his cock made your whole body shake. You let your head fall back as Regulus pressed down on you, his lips releasing hot breaths on your ear. He kissed you sweetly.

Regulus hovered over you again your faces only centimeters apart, lips almost touching. Both of your hands cupped his face for just a few seconds so you could see him clearly. He was like a wild animal. That blissed-out expression, that tilt of the head, the movement of the Adam's apple struggling to swallow.

Your skins brushed savagely, yet with a strange tenderness against each other. Every move was so barbaric but kind at the same time. You could breathe the other in, stained moans eliciting from both of you.

The couch rattled beneath you as Regulus' pelvis smushed inside you, animalistic screams of delight leaving both your mouths.

« Oh, fuck! », Regulus gasped. « I feel like fucking Pygmalion. » His words made you smile. « Does that make me Galatea? », you asked cheekily. Regulus grinned while his whole body was panting.

Shadows casted by the flinching light of the candles towered over you at the walls making you look five times bigger than you actually were, imitating your every move like mirrors.

« Regulus! », you breathed out as he jerked against you again causing both of you to release at the same time. Regulus tiredly fell on top of you, hugging you tight. His eyes moved up to you and smiled watching your beautiful almost painful grimace.

Hands cupped your flushed panting face, holding it tightly with his shaky grip, and his thumbs wiped away your tears. He pressed his forehead against yours, your sweat mixing up, as he looked into your eyes and then smashed a kiss on your lips.

The summer breeze flew inside dragging the curtains with it and burning off the candles. You looked at him laying on top of you, the moonglow caressing his pale skin, and you thought feeling his heart pounding against your belly, that this was your person and you wanted to stay there, glued to him forever.

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eldritch-elrics · 3 months

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thinking about rosencrantz & guildenstern are dead again. i think one thing about it is that it's such an excellent example of the sort of thing you can do in a fanfiction/transformative work that you can't really do in an original work? there is no R&G without the greater context of hamlet: hamlet both as a play and a wider cultural phenomenon. we know how these characters' stories will end, not just because we've read the title of the play, but because their ending has been etched into the literary consciousness. the tragedy extends beyond the bounds of either play and seems simultaneously more massive and more absurd because of it

#my post #hamlet #fanfiction #rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead #media studies #trying to think of fanfics that are transformative and meta in the same way #i feel like detective pony is pretty close. that's a fucking fantastic work of literature #which cannot exist independently of the two works that it came from

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oxenfreeao3 · 6 months

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This is your semi-regular reminder that fanfic is mainstream.

And I don’t mean, “oh, we talk about Ao3 more openly now.” I mean fanfic is paid for and distributed by major publishing houses.

Like, what do people think books like “The Song of Achilles” even are?

I will holler about this until I’m dead:

The delineation between “cringe” and “not cringe” hinges entirely upon copyright law.

You can publish New York Times Bestselling Fanfic so long as your source material is old enough.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #the song of achilles #society legitimizes fanfic so long as it can be sold for profit #something something capitalism #the lion king is a hamlet au and aslan is a Jesus fursona #anyway new source materials enter the public domain every year #pretty soon you’ll be able to sell fic of stuff written in the 1930s #make Sherlock Holmes your blorbo it’s legal now

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what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew · 10 months

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"Why are you reading Shakespeare fanfic"

Maybe i'm just sad ok. Maybe i like the idea of Othello not having to deal with Iago's shit. Maybe i like watching Hamlet be a college student. Maybe i like Romeo dying painfully while Juliet lives happily. Maybe i like the idea of Lady Macbeth fucking me. Let me live.

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stellacartography · 2 months

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Toe the Line (Rated E)

Words: 18,505 Chapters: 8/8

As Crowley and Aziraphale dine at the Ritz they are treated to a particularly reminiscent parade of chef's specials that spark memories of the past 2000 years. Crowley quietly panics his way through each course, drowning his anxiety in rather large amounts of alcohol. Aziraphale is helplessly drawn back into his own memories of their time together in the world they both love and every time they walked right up to the limits of their association.

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Snake behaviours, Crowley is deep down still a snake, Food and drink, Drunken ineffable spouses, Rome 41 AD, Council at Nicaea, Wessex 537 AD, The Invention of Fireworks, How did Crowley make Hamlet popular?, Teaching an angel to tempt, Dancing Lessons, Portland Place Gentleman's Club, Ambush predation, diversion, camouflage, Thanatosis, Constriction, Mimicry, Sexy Snake Pile, Ritual foot-washing as temptation, Snake musk is not lube, Don't try this at home kids, Season one fix-it of a sort

Written for the @go-minisode-minibang with art by @willow-tea

Acknowledgements and tags below the cut

A thousand thank yous to my friends who attended the @ficwritersretreat2023 and listened to my reading of chapter 5. Your laughter made this happen. Thanks to @fearlessdiva930 for your help with the menu. I had lost all my original research outside of the story itself and your assistance was invaluable. Thank you @kinkykinker for the first beta and @cumberbatchedandgatissmitten for the second round and coaching. Thank you @basketcasebetty for coordinating the bang.

Tagging @copperplatebeech @keirgreeneyes, @seriouslymarythough, @cirquedereve, @laurashapiro-noreally, @totallysilvergirl, @hubblegleeflower, @sevdrag

Reblogs are love and are much appreciated. <3

(Psst! Hey, @mevima! I finally finished it. Only took 4.5 years.)

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfiction #stella writes #crowley is a snake #aziraphale is smitten #hamlet with audience participation #rome 41 ad #nicea #wessex 537 ad #portland place gentlemen's club

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dtfanzine · 11 months

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Have you just found out about this project? Or are you still on the fence about applying?

Are you an artist or a writer (or both) who wants to participate in a fan anthology of David Tennant’s works?

Wait no longer, applications close in one week!

Art by @anaquariusfox and @fritzmetzger.

#david tennant #doctor who #broadchurch #good omens #fanzine #jessica jones #zine #writer #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #artist #crowley #hamlet #casanova #peter vincent #fright night

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koolkat9 · 7 months

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Yo AO3 is on my reading list for one of my classes. Guess who's reading Hamlet fanfiction baby 😎

#hamlet #fanfiction #even the header for that week is what i assume to be hamlet x horatio h #fanart #best class ever #ao3

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withasideofshakespeare · 6 months

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You don’t understand how sad I am about the lack of Shakespeare play content on AO3. I can only write so much, you guys!

#shakespeare #ao3 #fanfiction #at least some of them have a reasonable amount of content #hamlet’s got plenty of fics #but ONLY TWENTY-TWO FICS for Antony & Cleo???#I know it’s a little bit of a disaster play #but it deserves better than that

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hemmingsleclerc · 4 months

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New Year's Day ┃Timothée Chalamet

summary: where timothee spends new year's day with his girlfriend's family and he may not understand their traditions but he still enjoys the night

''5..4..3..2..1 and!''

''Happy New Year!''

As soon as I heard the first fireworks in the sky I started eating the 12 grapes I had in my glass.All my other relatives at the table began to do the same, from the oldest to my little cousins. At some point I felt like I was about to choke and lose consciousness, but I wasn't willing to let any of my wishes come true.

I looked to my side and saw Timmy eating his third grape. He chewed calmly, enjoying the sweet taste of the fruit and at times I saw how he stifled a laugh when he saw me so desperate. I nudged him lightly with my elbow and motioned for him to hurry up.

''What?'', he asked, showing confusion on his face.

I had to swallow what was in my mouth to be able to answer him.

''You have to eat them quickly Timmy, if you continue like this it won't work and your wishes won't come true!'', I said

''I don't think I have any idea what I was supposed to be wishing for, anyways, why do it so quickly?''

''For more excitement''

When I finished the last grape, I thought about it a little, I didn't really remember what I had wished for but I was sure that among my 12 wishes was happiness, health and love. Everything happened so fast that I barely had time to think about other things to ask for. My brother and cousins had also finished their grapes and ran to the door where there were some suitcases and ran out. Timothée, still in his place at the table, watched everything with a mixture of curiosity and confusion as he continued eating.

''I thought they would spend the night here! Where did they go?''

''They will be back soon, don't worry, the block is not that big, they just went out for a little run'' I said

''¿What?¿For what?''

''To travel, silly!'' I exclaimed excitedly ''You have to run around the block with a suitcase, it is said that it is to attract luck to be able to travel a lot during the year''

Timothée stood there in silence as he slowly began to make a surprised face processing everything his girlfriend had said. He watched everything attentively and with a sparkle in his eyes, excited to be able to participate in the ''curious'' traditions.

This year, I thought it would be a great idea for Timothée to spend the New Year with my family since we had spent the previous year with his family, and I also thought it would be fun for him to know the rituals we did every year on New Year's Eve.

''That doesn't make sense at all''

''I know! It doesn't have to!''

When my cousins arrived I went to chat with them a little about how the race had been. Meanwhile Timmy started talking to my father when I saw my uncles carrying ''the old''.

''Oh my god Timmy you're going to love this'' I took him by the hand and ran to where my whole family was gathered.

Before it started I went to get a pencil and paper for both of us while Timothée returned to get his drink.

''Ready? you have to write down everything bad about the year'' I told him while I took a drink from his glass

''For what? What will you do with that?'' he asked while looking for a place to lean on and write, but since there wasn't one nearby, he stood behind me and leaned on my back while holding his glass in his mouth.

''Do you see that doll that is there?'' I pointed ''It is supposed to represent the old year, it is made of different things like cardboard, and it is set on fire but first we put all the papers with everything bad that happend through the year so that it doesn't repeat''

''They set it on fire? Is that safe?''

It's probably not the safest thing but I may not tell him that.

''Relax Timmy, we do this every year, did you finish writing?''

He nodded and handed me the paper, I folded it along with mine and put it between the doll before my uncle set it on fire. I returned to Timmy and stood in front of him while he hugged me and rested his head on mine.

''Did you had fun babe?''

''I have to admit it was a little strange but it was a lot of fun, we should do some of these things next year together with my family, I bet it would be fun to run down the street with suitcases with Pauline.''

I nodded as I turned to kiss him, I was sure that next year would be just as fun as this one.

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hamlets-ak · 4 months

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back to you ༊*·˚

༘♡ amorous passion is a delirium

it’s been 3 months since timothée left to film DUNE 2 and you are rotting alone at your apartment. he was supposed to be gone for one more week but he decided to surprise you

*18+, minors DNI, sexual themes & references, romantic dynamic, established relationship, consent

« What are you doing now? », Tim’s voice echoed from the phone to the empty, cold walls of your apartment. You smiled sweetly watching his face light up the screen.

He was out, walking - the sky above his head and buildings circling him. Sunbathed curls entangled with the wind as his eyes scanned the road.

About three months had passed since Timothée left to film Dune 2 and you could feel the slow decay of flesh and bones. The colours of the walls were fading, turning dull without him around and the temperature had fallen so abruptly, no one had warned you about it.

You missed Timothée unfathomably - everything about him; his goofy laugh that always brought a smile to your face, his hair that glistered golden under the sun and the way he pulled the curls out of his face, his eyes changing colours with the weather and you pointing that out, his nose running aimlessly to your shoulder when you were laying on bed together or his fingers tracing softly your skin. You missed the conversations you had, your long walks around the city with his hand holding tightly your shoulder or wrapping around you, to have you close. Your late-night car rides when you’d blast your favourite songs on the radio or you’d go to a McDonald’s just because. You missed having him in your apartment, walking around as if it was his own, staying there for days and suddenly remembering that he had a home too. You missed watching TV with him, reading with him, sharing earphones with him, cooking with him, eating with him, waking up with him, sleeping with him... Everything.

« Nothing... », you mumbled, nuzzling better on the couch. Your face leaned on the pillow and you took a deep breath, inhaling Timothée's scent from that old t-shirt you wore and belonged to him. You weren't sure where or how you found it. It was old, so old, and it had a huge hole under one armpit that could easily be filled by another hand, but you didn't care because it smelt like him and it brought back memories from when you first met. « Watching trashy TV... and missing you. »

« You miss me? », he asked again, the grin on his face reaching his ears. You closed your eyes and nodded. Timothée looked at you before his stare moved back on the road. You breathed out again, more dramatically this time, trying to catch his attention.

« You have no idea how awful it is without you. Everything is too quiet. »

« Are you implying that I’m loud? », he frowned.

« Well, you are loud... It’s the American in you. » Tim laughed, lightly shaking his head not to smile any harder.

« One week... », his eyes fell on you noticing the way your cheeks perked up and leaned down to press a kiss on the screen. He missed you too, terribly - more than you could possibly imagine. His life was as dull as yours - maybe even more so because the only thing he had that reminded him of you was some pixels trapped on a phone screen and a necklace he took from you, ages ago, for good luck and ended up becoming more his than yours.

« One week, » you repeated his words with a hint of melancholy. It had been almost three months but time didn’t pass any less torturous, no matter if it was hours, days or weeks. You raised the phone high in the air so your neck wouldn’t hurt. « The bed misses you... And the couch... » He shut his lips, trying to hold onto his smirk. « The bathtub too. »

« Aw, tell them I miss them. The floor too. »

« You don’t miss anything else, you materialist? »

« Nah, » Tim gave you a look making your lips fall into a downwards curve. « Oh wait, you thought that I missed you? », he furrowed his brows playfully. You pouted and pulled your t-shirt up to cover your mouth.

« Definitely not hurt, Chalamet. Definitely not hurt, » you made him smile. Timothée shook his head before his eyes caught a glimpse of what you were wearing and suddenly frowned curiously and leaned closer to the screen. His forehead and eyes covered the screen for a moment, and you wanted nothing more than to pull away those few curls that concealed his eyes.

« Is that mine? », he asked amused and surprised all at once. « It's mine. » Your lips stretched into a big curve, letting the t-shirt hang back down. You shrugged in response before hugging yourself.

« Ours, » you mumbled.

« Ours... », he repeated your words. « For real though, that shirt is disgusting. I’ve had it since I was like twenty. »

« Don’t care. Where are you now? », you frowned bringing the phone impossibly close to your face to take a good look at his surroundings but all you could see was a sky and a mass of buildings that all looked the same.

« Em... on the road, going back to the hotel… I was out for coffee, » Timothée replied, eyes focused on the road waiting for the traffic light. When he noticed the screen getting brighter from your cheeks that were swelling with happiness, he had to glance back down at the phone. « What? »

« Oh nothing, » you smiled. « Are you at the hotel now? », you asked. He just grinned making the curve on your face grow bigger.

« No, not now. »

« What about now? »

« Not yet, » he chuckled.

« Now? »

« Nope, » he shook his head. You took a deep breath eyes still focused on him.

« Okay... », you mumbled. « What about now? »

« Not yet! », Tim raised his voice letting out a silly sound. You squinted your eyes watching the sky being replaced by a beige-colored ceiling.

« Now? »

« Okay, yes, I’m in now. You can stop being annoying, » he brought his face close to the screen so that he was the only thing visible to you. Your smile made him beam back at you. « Hey, baby, I’ll have to turn off the video for a minute. » You frowned in confusion.

« Okay... », you said reluctantly as you stared at the black screen. « Is there something you don’t want me to see, Timo? » All you heard was him panting and the echo of his shoes clapping against the stairs.

« Maybe, » he chuckled but you narrowed your eyes curiously.

« What are you hiding from me? », you murmured, hearing him laugh through heavy breaths.

« You’ll see... »

You just stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to turn the video back on, but the sound of the doorbell caused you to frown in confusion. Your eyes turned to the door questionably.

« Someone’s on the door, » you mumbled sceptically.

« Are you waiting for anyone? », Timothée asked.

« No... », you shook your head trying to think whether you had invited anyone just to trick your loneliness and ended up forgetting it. « Okay, wait, I’ll call you in a sec- or maybe call me when you get back to your room. »

« ‘Kay, love you! »

« Love you, » you left the phone on the kitchen counter and slowly moved to the door while fixing your hair to look somewhat presentable.

Curious, you quickly grabbed the handle and peeked your head, before letting the door swing open. Your eyes snapped wide in surprise and you could feel your heart skipping beats and your mind going blank.

« You should really check on the eyehole first. » You stayed on the door frozen, a frown of shock drawn on your lips until your mouth hung open. You raised your eyes only to meet Timothée’s silly grin that brought back the smile on your face. « Surprise? », he opened his arms.

Without a second thought, you threw yourself in his arms, hugging him so tightly that he almost lost his balance and took a few steps backwards. The coldness that had taken over your body was replaced by such a lovely warmth. Timothée kissed the side of your head and laughed at your reaction.

« What are you doing here? », you asked, loosening your hands and letting them rest on his neck.

« Thought I’d surprise you, » Tim smiled back. You ran a hand through his hair, noticing that it had been cut quite a bit since he left, and then pressed a kiss on his mouth. « Finished early, » he tilted to catch your lips. « Missed your face. » His fingers held your cheeks as he leaned down so that his forehead could touch yours. You beamed, still in utter disbelief, before you intertwined your lips together. « I missed you, » Timothée murmured with a small laugh as he took you into one last hug.

« I can’t believe you’re here... », you just held him, until he released his arms and you took a step back. He chuckled watching your surprised expression and motioned his head to the door.

« Let’s get inside, » he beamed and you nodded, a huge grin forming on your face.

« Let me help you with that, » you bent down to catch his bag but he pulled it off your arms.

« No, no, it’s okay, baby. »

The apartment suddenly changed temperature and colours the moment he stepped inside. Everything missed him and everything was happy he was back.

You leaned on the door just watching him put his bags aside and take off his coat. His eyes wandered around to see if you had made any changes but you hadn’t. Timothée gave you a sneaky glance as he took off his shoes which only made you beam brighter.

You loved him and you missed him and you didn’t want him to leave you ever again. But you were still too shocked to react. Your brain was stuck still, couldn’t think of anything. It was like waking up from a dream, too stunned, too confused, too out of place and time.

He stood up to come over to you. You smiled warmly as he held your face and you rubbed your cheek on his palm to make sure this wasn’t just a fragment of your imagination. And when you did ensure yourself, you pressed a kiss on his skin.

« I was thinking about you every second of every day, » you murmured softly and then looked into his eyes as an afterthought, watching memories sneak out.

A sudden silence broke between you - not an uncomfortable one. It was just that silence spoke better words than you did.

His free hand brushed against yours and his fingers slyly tried to sneak into your palm, until the inside of your hands hugged one another and fingers tangled together. You hadn’t held hands in such a long time.

His smile slowly faded as his stare stayed on your lovesick honey look, hand tracing back the skin of your face. You raised your head until your noses brushed, his hot breath fanning over you, and you felt so soft, so calm and safe that you sank into happiness.

Timothée pressed his mouth to yours, closing the void that existed between and inside you. His tongue gently traced over your lips, awakening a sensation you hadn’t felt in a while.

Your arms looped around his neck and tugged him closer, his mouth moulding against yours. He felt your lips softer than he could remember and kissed you deeper, hungrier, nipping at your bottom lip and making your mouth part with a breathy sigh.

And as his scent travelled into your head, you started to lose control of yourself and you gave up truly and completely.

Timothée let his tongue slide inside your mouth, desperate to taste you, to feel your skin. His hands slithered down the curves of your body and held your hips so firmly that you could feel his thumbs clawing you.

A strained moan faded in the air. Your fingers fidgeted with the end of his hair, soft and silky, as your lips clashed, and grabbed a handful of those curls you had missed so much. And when he groaned and whined against your mouth, you found yourself losing control over your body, falling completely under his spell.

« Timmy, » you whispered as his head buried into your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses against the skin. « Are you tired? » Timothée chuckled and shook his head.

« No... », his voice came out breathlessly.

« No? Are you sure? »

« Fuck yeah, I’m sure. »

Cool fingers that were dug under your shared t-shirt moved to the curves of your bottom and held your hips, pulling them up until your legs clawed around him and you gasped before letting out a small laugh that made him smile.

He couldn’t part his mouth from yours as if you were magnets that were impossible to separate - not until your back touched the mattress of your bed, your hair tangled in a terrible disarray, with chest heaving.

Tim panted heavily as he hovered above you, completely covering your shrill form. You leaned back on your elbows watching him with a glint in your eyes, taking off his t-shirt eagerly, before his mouth fell on your neck. His fingers searched for the hem of your t-shirt and tried to pull it up.

« Off, » he breathed out against your mouth, causing a wide grin to stretch on your face.

You brushed a hand through his hair and pulled the curls out of his face as he crawled in between your legs and pressed greedy kisses on your collarbones. His fingers moved up to cup your bare breasts making you gasp when he looked up at you with a sneaky smile and his kisses slowed in the line of your chest.

« Did I surprise you? », he mumbled, tongue touching your skin, making you gasp for air. His hands lined the curve of your waist as wet lips fell on your soft spots. Timothée pressed his lips lower and lower till they reached your belly before raising his gaze at you again. You closed your eyes and nodded. « Yeah? », he smiled sheepishly.

« Yeah, » you murmured.

You fiddled with his curls as he crawled lower, sliding down your pyjama shorts and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

« Off, » Timothée murmured, biting his lips impatiently. Your eyes stayed on him until they fell on the silver necklace that was hanging around his neck and it used to belong to you. You just touched it.

Tim breathed a satisfied laugh as he let his mouth touch your skin, lips gradually falling down until his fingers traced your underwear and he chuckled against you.

« Shit, » he mumbled glancing at you with a smile that made you grin through shaky breaths. « I missed you, » Timothée said. « I couldn’t wait to get back home to you. » Your heart nearly skipped a beat when he called your place his home too. He looked up at you. « Yeah, I mean it. » Your stare glued on him, unable to move away, watched the way he slid your panties down, off your legs and spoke soft words to you. « It had never been this long, » he parted your legs and kissed the inside of your thigh.

His mouth travelled to the apex of your thighs and you tried to hold onto your moans, reaching for his hair and tugging him closer. Tim grinned again, fingers hugging your waist and then your bottom. His lips wrapped around you, setting your body on fire and cutting your breath, while sucking and rolling his tongue inside you before one hand trailed down your skin and slowly replaced his lips. Fingers sunk deep into you, pushing past your folds, brushing and curling, making your mouth part open and your head fall back.

When he thrusted his fingers back in, your mouth fell agape in a silent scream, head light and nerves ablaze. Your body tensed as you jumped up in his hold and then fell, completely slack onto the bed.

Timothée pulled his fingers out and leaned down until his tongue touched your folds; licked you, tasting you with a sharp inhale. He moaned against you at the sound of you breathlessly calling his name and he gripped your thigh sinking his fingertips into your skin.

If it wasn’t for his own ache that had almost brought tears to his eyes, he could’ve stayed between you for as long as you let him. But not being able to hold any longer, he pulled back to catch his breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm, and took off sweatpants and trunks altogether.

You watched him full of longing and pleading, with mouth gasping for air, before reaching over to replace his hand with yours around his throbbing erection that was already smeared with silver liquids.

A blissed out expression was drawn on his face as his head tilted and his Adam's apple moved, struggling immensely to swallow the overflow saliva.

Timothée’s arms shook as he hovered above you, burying his head into your neck, and groaned as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

« Fuck, » he panted. His eyes fell on your face, mind fogged with pleasure, as strangled moans and hushed gasps left his mouth agape. Your lips trembled watching him like this. You pressed your mouth on his, guiding him inside until he buried himself in you.

His jaw clenched, breath heavy, waiting for you with eyes closed. You kissed his jaw and his neck before cupping his face. That’s when his gaze fell on yours.

Your lips almost touched as he hovered over you, inches away, brushing the tender skin against each other, agape and wet. You breathed each other in, let the other inhale the air, the strained moans the one was eliciting from the other.

« My sweet boy, » you said with a smile and pulled back his dripping hair. « He’s back. » His lips twitched a curve upwards and eyes glanced away from you. Your thumbs tried to weep the drops of sweat off his chin and his nose, and you pulled his curls behind his ears to take a better look at him. Tim looked at you strained with a smile of effort and feverish red cheeks. « I missed those eyes, » you tented your head and pressed a kiss under his eye. « And that nose, » your mouth followed the curve, before your thumb brushed his lips. « And those lips… You’re so cute when you look away, » your hands caressed the skin behind his ears and then fell down on the nape of his neck.

« I missed being so close to you, » his eyes skimmed down your bodies. « You don’t know how much I wanted to be here. »

« You’re here now, » you kissed him and pulled him closer until your chests brushed against each other.

Timothée groaned in your ear as you glided your hands over his back caressing him slowly. You could feel his muscles pulling and flexing with every thrust, his body panting and his breath hot in you.

Your lips seared into every part of him they could find; lips, forehead, nose, hair, as his face dug into your neck, while whispering his name again and again like a prayer, like something holy.

He panted harder once you found rhythm and he slammed deeper into you, skin slapping against skin, harsher, and his hands tried to hold your face tenderly as he breathed against your cheeks and heard you moan the most soul capturing sound he’d ever heard when he hit that spot again and again.

« Fuck, Y/N, » you heard him rasp as the kisses became longer, lingering lower on your face till they reached your red-hot ear and you could hear him curse all sort of things.

Your shadows casted by the blinding lights of the sun loomed over you on the walls. The shadows danced, three times bigger, mirrored your every move forming a dark-figure painting over the walls of the apartment.

Moves that were full of reverence and strange carefulness turned sloppier and faster, until tremors shook your body, until you whined and pulled him impossibly close, until he as well reached the crest of his pleasure and in unison you climbed and lunged into the climax.

And you could feel yourself spasming around him as the desperately jolting of his hips gradually stopped. Eyes half-lidded, too heavy to lift them, too blissed out to control. Faces disfigured by throws of passion, contorted in an utterly beautiful, bordering on painful, grimace.

Timothée gulped and breathed heavily against your neck. His chest panting against yours as hot liquids ran between you.

« Fuck, » he gasped and you smiled while pulling his hair back.

Sweaty and a mess, you finally separated. He rolled off your chest, onto the bed, onto his back. Your stare seemed to be searching the ceiling, watching the sun breaking through the curtains. And he looked at you, twisted his soar neck and measured your naked form with utter acclaim and pride. Slowly, your breaths evened.

« Fuck that was good, » he pressed a sweet kiss on your neck.

« Welcome home. »

#hamlets-ak #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee fanfic #timothée chalamet smut #smut

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