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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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inmyendzz · 10 months

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In My Endz: Rinkoff Bakery, Shot by Alisha Ali

Alisha took me to Rinkoffs round the back of her Flat - she told me you can always smell the Bakery from the Garden. They’re a Ukrainian-Jewish Family Bakery, and in 1911 their first Shop opened up just down the road from here on Old Montague Street.

#InMyEndz #Whitechapel #east london #Tower Hamlets #London #bakery #baked goods #cakes #pastry #jewish #ukraine #Neve Ak #rinkoff #jewish bakery

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a-reverii · 4 months

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▸ REVERII'S DECEMBER FIC RECS

━━ ✰ THE WIZARDING WORLD.

sirius black

aren't promises meant to be broken? ⇢ @perpetuallydaydreaming

style. ⇢ @bealovesmarauders

his favorite neighbour. ⇢ @kquil

attention. ⇢ @/kquil

right where i want to be. ⇢ @appocalipse

the dark night. ⇢ @bruisedboys

oblivious. ⇢ @bitesizedgremlin

regulus black

hidden messages in foreign languages. ⇢ @applebutter-and-cinnamon

vivre d'amour et d'eau fraîche. ⇢ @/deactivated

his last letter. ⇢ @hamlets-ak

tricks and charms. ⇢ @curseofaphrodite

across the sea. ⇢ @/curseofaphrodite

the night we met. ⇢ @/curseofaphrodite

frosted practices. ⇢ @henqtic

remus lupin

by tired hands. ⇢ @luveline

skirts. @flwrbo

not so secret admirer. @/kquil

you're losing me. @astonishment

never his. @weasleykisses

wherever you stray i follow. @mediocre-daydreams

━━ ( navigation ) ( masterlist ) ( request )

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luvellx · 5 months

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fic recs , timothée chalamet !

by @lola-la-cava

⤷ if you'll have me

⤷ met'23

⤷ sky full of stars

crayons by @timottea

by @lixzey

⤷ the story of us (series)

⤷ mine, forever mine.

⤷ forever yours.

the photo booth by @hamlets-ak

by @bonesandchalamet

⤷ quite in new york

⤷ lessons in french

⤷ o' christmas

⤷ slumber party

⤷ i miss you i'm sorry

"sleeping mates" by @oneshots-heaven

by @growup-thatbeautiful

⤷ gravitation

⤷ our daughter

for my hand by @catharsisfalls

ella's note !

hello im back! with yet more fanfics for u guys! in honor of the release of wonka i'm going to be sharing a bunch of my favourite timmy fics i have read! so hope u guys enjoy them! thx for reading, muah<33

p.s the movie was soooo good ^^

#timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #fanfic reccomendation #fanfic #book reccomendation #blurb #fic rec #actor #willy wonka #wonka 2023 #timothee chalamet x reader #book reccs

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turangalila · 4 months

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Daigvianes. (Kartalino-Kakhetian Georgian traditional folk song) (ჰამლეტ გონაშვილი. Hamlet Gonashvili accompanied by members of the Rustavi choir)

დაიგვიანეს, ჯერ არსად სჩანან! / მაგრამ სალამურს თუ მოჰკრეს ყური, / ანდამატურის ძალით გამოსწევს / აქეთკენ მის გულს ხმა უცნაური. // ვინ ქვაბულიძე და ვინ მეცხვარე?! / იქ, ბარში, ყველა ჩემი ტოლები / მტრებში ვეფხვივით დანავარდობენ / და მე კი ცხვარში აქ ვიმალები!. // მერე როგორ დროს? მაშინ, როდესაც / სხვა უდიდესი წინ გვიძევს ვალი! / მაგრამ ეს მოხდა ჩემს უნებურად, / გულთამხილავო, და არ მაქვს ბრალი!. // კიდევ არ სჩანან... ეგებ წავიდენ, / გაიარეს და ვერ მოვკარ თვალი? / აჰ, ღმერთო ჩემო! ჯერ უმისოდაც / დაბნეული მაქვს მე გზა და კვალი! // [Akaki Tsereteli]

(Daigvianes, jer arsad schanan! / Magram salamurs tu mohkʼres qʼuri, / Andamatʼuris dzalit gamostsʼevs / Aketkʼen mis guls khma utsnauri. // Vin kvabulidze da vin metskhvare?! / Ik, barshi, qʼvela chemi tʼolebi / Mtʼrebshi vepkhvivit danavardoben / Da me kʼi tskhvarshi ak vimalebi!.. // Mere rogor dros? Mashin, rodesats / Skhva udidesi tsʼin gvidzevs vali! / Magram es mokhda chems uneburad, / Gultamkhilavo, da ar makvs brali!.. // Kʼidev ar schanan... Egeb tsʼaviden, / Gaiares da ver movkʼar tvali? / Ah, ghmerto chemo! jer umisodats / Dabneuli makvs me gza da kʼvali!)

_ Hamlet. Hamlet Gonashvili (1995, JARO – 4191-2)

#traditional #georgia #hamlet gonashvili #akaki tsereteli

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wormsin · 7 months

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whumptober 2023 - Bruce & Dick

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

<<first | <last | master | next>

Fuck this box.

Fuck this box fuck this box fuck this fucking box.

Enough. Don’t get frustrated. Where was he?

The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,

Black as his purpose, did the night resemble

When he lay couched in the ominous horse

Hath now this dread and black complexion smear’d

With heraldry more dismal…

Dick’s head is splitting. His throat is scratched dry from dehydration, and his every muscle feels cramped. The box isn’t even long enough for him to stretch his legs fully. No light. No sound besides his own breathing. No idea how long it’s been. Not more than four days, or he'd be dead.

But it’s been long enough for him to start hallucinating.

Which makes reciting Hamlet a decidedly less sane way to pass the time. Hamlet is now Jason, who has started to add his literary commentary on the play. Polonius is Tim for some reason, and Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Ophelia are played by the Joker. Who keeps veering off script. And then there are ghosts, bats and owls. Corpses in costumes.

Dick isn’t afraid of hallucinations. His fear response is just—not really there. Replaced by thrills. The wind around his body. But losing control of his mind is painful, thoughts ricocheting in his aching skull.

Enough Hamlet. He starts reciting the New Encyclopedia Britannica. That was the version in the Manor library. A-ak. Ancient East Asian music. A capella. Italian: “in the church style”…

He hates being confined. Absolutely hates it. But he can’t give in.

To the south of A-ch’eng are the remains of an ancient walled city known as Pai-ch’eng…

—

Getting out of the box is almost worse than being in it. Because Dick’s body is sore and barely responsive, and the lights and sounds are excruciating. He drags himself up over the opening of his coffin—not coffin—but it’s so much. Too much. Just get out, Chum. Hands shaking. Dick keeps his eyes firmly shut and forces himself up out of the box and onto the floor of his cell, where he lies and covers his eyes.

“Activity, in radioactive-decay process, the number of disintegrations per second, or the number of unstable atomic nuclei that decay per second in a given sample," he mumbles. Bruce must still be in his own confinement; Dick can't hear him, feel his presence.

The stranger pushes him onto his back with a booted foot. Steps on his chest. Dick can’t open his eyes yet. “The Starcore, Nightwing.”

“Activity is determined by counting, with the aid of radiation detectors and electronic circuits…”

“Sounds like you want more time in the box.”

Dick smirks. “I have a lot of encyclopedia left. We haven’t even reached the ADs. Pretty sure I can outlast you, here.”

The stranger tilts their helmeted head, considering. “Then let’s try something else.”

#whumptober2023 #no.3 #solitary confinement #batman #nightwing #bruce wayne #dick grayson #hallucination mention

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titleknown · 8 months

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KAIJUNE NEO: BABA O'REILY

[A] Oh, hello!

[J] Uh... hey. Yo.

[A] It's so nice to see a welcoming face in this... Potemkin hamlet. it seems the others are a bit... scared. Why, perhance, did they send you here?

[J] Trailer trash girl, religious family that really got into The Prophet after Mr Krinkle smashed our old house. I like girls, they found out, there you go. Ain't afraid to die cause there wasn't much to live for, prolly why I'm not running.

[A]...I must confess, that's why I'm here too. Liking girls I mean, though I was a preacher's daughter, middle-class. You know, I was going to run away before they sent me here, the way that man was following The Prophet was... terrifying.

[J] Yeah, like, didn't the bible have something in there about not sacrificing your kids for the Lord's favor? Jacob n Isaac or somesuch? There's gotta be some shit about not, say, sending the kids to die at the hands of a giant monster for...

...Cleansing? To stop it eating their fucking houses? The man's words are a fucking mess, never could make heads or tails of it when it was blaring through the trailer at four fucking AM. I mean, not like the people behind The Prophet give a shit what God wan-

[A] I mean, there was the time God sent bears to consume "youths" for mocking Elijah for his baldness. That was very much a scriptural occurence my father placed a direct emphasis on.

But, that was the divine's perogative, not that of humanity, and the record shows you are correct. On both counts...

{A long pause occurs}

[A]...So, they said Mr. O'Reily was coming?

[J] ...{Starts laughing out loud}

[A]- What's so funny?

[J] Just that Mr. O'Reily's a pretty fucking square thing to call it. But yeah, big Baba's coming, I felt the tremors.

[A] Funny thing, I'd always heard him more associated with rain from the various rumors. I don't think I've ever seen it rain around here this time of year.

[J] I mean, that's alla 'em. It's always the rain with 'em when they're coming. Don't bother running, those freaks The Prophet got with AK-47s are surrounding the place.

[A] I'm aware. I saw one of the bodies. White and gold tactical gear seems like a bit of a... gauche thing to spend your congregation's tithes on. But then, father was always impressed by those who kept up appearances...

{Another long pause. J takes her phone out of her pocket and frowns}

[J]...God dammit, phone's dead. If I was gonna die here, at least wanted to be able to hear my tunes while I did.

[A] Oh! I brought a spare rechargeable battery, you can use it.

{J takes it to charge her phone, smiles impishly}

[J] Yanno, seems a bit weird to have this on ya when you get dragged off to this slapdash sacrifice shithole... ...But thanks.

[A] No problem, and I'm... slightly embarassed to admit it, but I was about to attempt my egress before they took me. Was not expecting the surprise.

[A] At least they weren't particularly thorough in their checks, though that hardly matters now...

{Another pause}

[A] You know, there happens to be a rumor about 'Big Baba' I had heard, shortly before I attempted my egress.

[J] Que?

[A] He doesn't seem to really attack people. I've heard many reports of colateral damage, of broken buildings and roads, but none of harm to humans. What does your proposition on the subject appear to be?

[J] I... ain't a philosophizer, so I'm just guessing. I think he just wants to live life, his own way. Kinda like what they put us here for. We're all tryin' to get by in this teenage wasteland, monsters ain't no different...

[J] ...'Course, I almost got my leg bit off by Mr Krinkle, so what the fuck do I know about monsters.

{Tremors appear in the background. Raindrops begin falling}

[A]- I think he's moving forward. Would you... be willing to find out. Together?

[J]- Yeah, I think I would

{[A] and [J] hold hands as a great beast emerges from the earth and the rain begins to fall.}

----------------------

So, another day, another Kaijune-but-it's-in-September!

I feel I must note that you may be noticing a pattern with the Kaiju names and yes, I'm doing a Jojo thing where they're all named after bands/songs. In this case, it's the Who song of the same title, which inspired the lore ('it's only teenage wasteland' and all that).

In yesterday's case with Virgin Killer, it was after a Scorpions album notable for its extremely skeevy cover art (Like, legit, yeesh), which I only basically chose because it was the only album name of the Scorpions I could think of, and also it just sounded like a really fucking cool name for a giant scorpion, I think we can agree. And yes, "Rock You Like A Hurricaine" is why they have the weather powers.

Ability Notes: Mainly in the realm of burrowing and the ability to produce sonic vibrations, used mostly for burrowing or causing tremors, but also can be used as a wide-ranged projectile attack. Also can spit a deadly acid, though it's metabolically expensive (As much as such things can be for kaiju), and the strange enzymes can have... interesting reactions with other things.

Bonus Trivia: [J] is slightly pudgy with long shaggy red hair, and [A] is black and almost definitely on The Spectrum. They're both 17, about to be 18 in a few months. They both survive this, but I won't tell you how.

And, in that grand (exceedingly late) Kaijune tradition, this character and all related narrative elements are under a CC-BY 4.0 license, as long as I, Thomas F Johnson, am credited as their creator.

#my art #kaiju #kaijune #burrowing #microfiction #my writing #sculpture #diorama #creature design #kaijune 2023

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 1 year

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Which of the Hooks would do best in drama class in Auradon Prep (as opposed to the Isle because in Auradon they'd all be in the same class, at least until all the teachers threatened to resign unless one or two or all of them were switched out).

Oh, all three siblings are absolute menaces in drama class, and even with all that trouble? They are still better than most of the AKs, and they are not even trying that hard.

CJ can remember her lines, to great surprise of everyone around her – but come on, she had some of the famous passages memorised by the time she was four.

She, however, can and will change her lines if she feels the ones she came up with fit better.

As will Harry.

And occasionally, Harriet.

The sisters also refuse to play the roles of romantic heroines. (Look, yes, CJ would love to play, say, Juliet. She'd also love to rewrite the entire play so that Juliet kills at least half of the feuding families before melodramatically dying for her one and only love.) (CJ isn't allowed to play Juliet.)

Harriet will be a right bitch if she doesn't get the role she wanted, and it would be advisable for the other girl to watch her back. Harriet wouldn't be going for the kill, but she has very screwed perception of what "danger" is.

Luckily, the AK girls have very different idea of what a fun role is, and the Isle kids learned not to argue with any of the Hooks a long time ago.

Harry doesn't have trouble playing romantic heroes or the Villains of the story: he, however, becomes insufferable whenever Uma comes watch.

That would be because as far as the two of them are concerned, Harry delivering death threats to someone else might as well be giving a romantic monologue to her.

Needless to say, the teacher is concerned.

(Harry isn't allowed to play Villains or antiheroes with love arc.)

The siblings got kicked out of the class and separated when they decided to take over the lesson and:

Play Hamlet Without Hamlet (I will elaborate and that is a threat)

Deliver a very informative lecture on the best villain monologues, real live hostage included. (It's not their fault the king has only one bodyguard, okay? He is practically asking for it!)

#disney descendants #cj hook #harry hook #harriet hook

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thenixkat · 6 months

Video

youtube

clipping. - Shooter [OFFICIAL VIDEO]

[Verse 1] Don't move nothin', statue Shooter 'bout to go nuts, cashew Need cash off the books, past due Real cheese for the cooks, rat food He got drums for that ass, get fucked Get your face rearranged, Nip/Tuck Do heavy in the streets, big truck Get money, get money, that's a stick up Your wallet or your life, choose one Come up off the lettuce, crouton You been sleepin' on the shooters, futon No donation on computers, move on Clerk's shittin' in his drawers, skid row Thought shit was just a hood game, skip rope Shooter read the face real quick, CliffsNotes Kissed the shoe with the .45, mistletoe

[Hook] Shooter, shooter, shooter, shooter You don't want it with a shooter Shooter, shooter, shooter Cause he got guns and the shit gon' bang Yeah, the shooter brought guns and the shit go bang Hands up, got guns in this bitch, go bang Motherfucker better run when this shit go

[Verse 2] Hangin' off the rooftop, King Kong Bullets serenade the streets, theme song Ain't takin' no hits, clean bong Just need it in an outlet, three-prong Tired of puttin' in work, weekend Now we gettin' it shine, sequin Silence on the gun barrel cause he's sneakin' Found a spot the pigs can't get to him, vegan Look at all the folk runnin', marathon Like they ain't got baggage, carry-ons Killin' is the best medicine, diagnosis Got death on his breath, halitosis Choppin' people like they veggies, Top Chef Like a game at a carnival, Wyclef Think you're playing? Just watch, Timex Cameras roll cause he hot now, Pyrex

[Hook] Shooter, shooter, shooter, shooter You don't want it with a shooter Shooter, shooter, shooter Cause he got guns and that shit gon' bang Yeah, the shooter brought guns and the shit go bang Hands up, got guns in this bitch, go bang Motherfucker better run when this shit go

[Verse 3] Got a towel on his face, mophead Gettin' money in the desert, hot bread Wish he had a way home, bread crumbs Drink himself into a coma, red rum Solider's eyes playin' tricks, sandwich Need to get more info, bandwidth Bunch of signs there to read, pamphlets But that was not to be, Hamlet Enemy jumped on his back, monkey Wasn't leavin' no scraps, junkie He was wavin' his hands, krumping Whole body like soup, dumplings Wavin' AKs at him, step team Finna blow his ass away, jet stream Leave his brain in the sand, head trips Caught his ass on demand, Netflix

#youtube #clipping #black music #political music #noise music #lyrics

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manyeggs · 1 year

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Goncharovian Ephemerality

There’s a lot of discussion of the symbolic use of time in Goncharov, (especially on Tumblr), but I haven’t seen a lot of conversation about how time is used in the filmmaking itself. Near-grueling runtime aside, the rhythm of the editing feels nearly improvisational; ranging from capacious to downright ruthless, often in the space of a single scene. (The opening montage being perhaps the best example of this.)

And while the action may take place within the span of a handful of weeks as winter creeps in (the exact timeframe, of course, is never clarified, much like Shakespeare’s Hamlet), the story pulls in a much wider frame of implied time. The characters are obviously quite far from childhood; possibly as far as anyone can get, but there are shadows of the children they must have been. There is the air of playground drama to the carnage that unfolds. I digress.

The often-languorous editing and cinematographic obsession with architecture and environment incorporates the physical and cultural histories of Italy and Russia, (though ironically, its relationship to the historical present is somewhat ... unpredictable) calling upon hundreds of years of folk history, fallen empire, and the stunning violence of the world wars. The text hardly reflects this, as the characters are all more-or-less entirely fixated on the present and (unreachable) future. They are intent to cling to the surface of a deep and tumultuous past, even as it swallows them up.

Shots of seemingly incidental action (an apple selected from a stand, the shuffling of a forged passport) frequently stretch far longer than they might in contemporary films, if they were included at all. With each cut comes the sudden collapse of a microcosm within Goncharov’s wider cosmos. The relation of scale and time here played again to emphasize the ephemerality of action; the violence of the film’s latter half serving to highlight the fragility of human life.

The stretching-contracting pattern of the editing paints a disorienting picture of the time available to the film’s characters. They think they have time. We all do. Moments stretch; sunlit droplets on the sheets of a sailboat seeming eternal. (Shades of the big-screen Western here.) Shots explode; a box of AK-47s thrown open; the eyeblink of an ice-pick lobotomy; the detonation of a sabotaged car and a symphony of broken glass; a mirror shattering behind a final gunshot. The end is sudden.

#unreality #writing #analysis #goncharov #goncharov 1973

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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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