đ§ââïž âŠ lĂ©a ⊠20 ⊠she/her ⊠fr/gr à§à
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Hamlets-ak - Tumblr Blog
TimothĂ©e Chalamet on the set of âMarty Supremeâ in Manhattan on October 7, 2024 in NYC. đ„đ„đ„
đž by Jose Perez/Bauer-Griffin/GC Images
because people will do a million good things but when they do something you dont like you fall on them like crows & hold resentment against them forever
at this point youre just hating because you want to hate. telling me that timo did a bad job as dylan is insane. did we all watch the same trailer ??
guys pls i love u all and i am so so so sex positive but there are days when i come on here and the fact that every post being pushed is smut genuinely repulses me, and not in a way that is shaming the writers of these fics bc you are all wonderfully talented people, but you are horndogs !!!! and i get that itâs kinktober and whatnot, but where is flufftober??? keep our clothes ontober?? chai lattes and librariestober???
apricity àŒ*·Ë
m.list ⊠askbox
synopsis: itâs been two years since you and timothĂ©e broke up but with a kid in the middle nostalgia is all over the air
It had been two years and life kept going without him.
With time, you came to accept your new reality and the fact that you would never be the same person as you once were.
But there were days when nostalgia covered your heart like a dark cloud stretching in the bright blue sky. Days, you remembered tangled hands, flushed cheeks, silent stares and warm smiles. Days you prayed to last forever.
You missed everything.Â
Whenever you were together, you were glowing. Everyone seemed to notice how brighter you looked, your hair, your eyes, your smiles. There were only sunny days for you, summer and spring anywhere you looked, as if the other was giving you life.Â
You were in love. You could feel it and so did everyone around you. No one had ever seen you like that, so carefree, so light, so happy, so warm, so easy to love.
You used to be inseparable; four arms, four legs, no faces for the world to see because you were always too busy looking at the other, blind for your surroundings.
But the day everything ended, you had never felt him more far away.
Your heart broke and with it promises, dreams and hopes for a future that never came.
You remembered your voice barely coming out, with eyes all welled up and swollen, trying to explain to him that you loved him but you couldnât go on like this. TimothĂ©e had to be away for days, weeks, months, and then he returned for a while to golden the pill before he had to leave again. It wasnât good for Marc to live in the eye of this craziness. Your kid needed his father and you needed him as well.
Your love had slowly turned into a one-sided contract. You had to give in order to receive. And you did. You changed your city to be with him, changed your job, left your parents behind and a whole life you had been building for years, only to spend more time apart than together.Â
You remembered him standing there, right in front of you, with cheeks red, once swelling with happiness, suddenly swelling with tears, shaky hands and chattering teeth, trying to understand you and promising that you could make it, everything would change if you gave him one more chance.
But you were irrevocable and very very tired.
The years passed by and Marc turned two, three, four. He vaguely remembered the two of you together apart from birthdays youâd plan, photographs in old albums and stories his grandparents and other members of the family would tell him.
He never really had a problem with you living separately; he got used to it, and it was kind of fun until some kids pointed that out and curiosity grew his need to know why you werenât living in the same house, together like most parents, why he couldnât have both of you, why, when you used to be so happy, so in love. What changed ? And was it so tragic ?
You had talked with Timothée about this and decided not to tell him anything. He was too young to understand. Maybe one day when he got older, you could have this conversation.
But Marc was stubborn and wouldnât stop asking questions. You decided to do something about it, to soothe him and let him know that maybe you and his father lived separately but when it involved him you were together.
Tim came by your house every second Friday and he stayed to spend some time the three of you before taking Marc for the weekend - since Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays were his days. It was surreal at first, thankfully not as awkward as you expected, but you got used to it.
Truth was that you missed him and you felt painfully guilty every now and then, thinking of how things couldâve evolved between you. A tiny knife was twisting in your heart, slowly and bitterly, whispering with every twist words of nostalgia, telling you that you couldâve made it in the end and that you couldâve been like that every single day - only if you had been a little more patient and your ego hadnât ruined everything.
Every time you looked at him, he was feeding your fantasy and the deepest spark of hope of ending up together eventually. But you had accepted that it wasnât going to happen.
It was damn hope that was breaking him as well. If you missed him once, he missed you ten times more.
You left such an imprint on his heart, it was hard for him to ignore it and pretend it never existed. He looked for you everywhere, in all of his favourite places, in every person he met, trying to find your similarities and your differences. But no oneâs love was like yours. Everyone was too sour, too rotten, too bitter.
He wanted you.
Two years in and he had completely lost himself in the past. The desire to turn the past into the present was boiling more and more each time he saw you. He wanted everything with you; happiness, elation, impatient expectancy, worry, idyllic calm, wrath, anger, despair, hurt, all those emotions, pure or ugly, the good and all bad counterparts, he wanted them with you.
Life went on.
It was winter, January, the weather harsh with biting cold ready to freeze off any uncovered parts. It was snowing after many years.
Down at the street, you looked like dark blurs against the backdrop of white.
It was the first time Marc saw snow and he wanted to go out and play one last time before falling asleep. You wouldnât let him this late at night awake but you and TimothĂ©e also wanted to see it before everything melted the next morning.
« I donât want to put this on ! », Marc whined, running away, hopping over ice ridges and kicking up the powdery snow under the faint, golden rays of square streetlights.
« Ah, got you ! », Timothée managed to pick him up after so much running. The boy tried to jump off his grasp while laughing uncontrollably as his father rubbed his nose against his and smeared kisses all over his face. « Stubborn little monkey. »
« Marcy, » you breathed out exhausted from all the chasing, holding his scarf, beanie and gloves. « Please, put them on, baby. »
« Ah, why ? », he threw his head back on his father as you crouched in front of him.
« Why ? », you asked in fake surprise, patiently swirling the scarf around him, one, two, three loops until his neck was completely covered and a part of his mouth as well, muffling his protests and laughs. « Because I want you to be warm⊠and healthy⊠», you cupped his cheeks and gave him a kiss. « With ears⊠» He giggled when you put on his beanie and adjusted it.
Timothée smiled sweetly at you.
He remembered how scared you were when you first found out that you were pregnant and how many nights he stayed awake and tried to gather your tears, reassuring you that you were going to be a great mother. You had many doubts but he had none.
It turned out, he was right. In fact, « great » was an understatement.
Very few parents would be as patient and caring as you. TimothĂ©e watched you crouched in front of Marc, trying to reach his height, taking his hands on yours and putting his gloves on while explaining with clear words that you wanted him strong and healthy so that heâd be able to run, and play, and do all the things he loved so much. Even when he threw the beanie off his head and ran away, you didnât raise your tone to yell at him just let out a hushed chuckle.
« Never gonna catch me ! Never gonna win ! »
« Please, make him wear it, » you smiled with a painful grimace. Timothée looked at you as you shook away the snow from the cloth before passing it to him.
« Oh, donât worry. Heâll put this on. »
« I donât. » A boyish grin appeared on his lips.
« Dad ! », Marc stopped for a second, waiting for him to chase him.
« Oh, Iâm coming ! Iâm gonna get you ! », Tim said loud enough for Marc to leave a small scream and keep running. TimothĂ©e followed him quickly, jumping into frozen caps of snow. « Iâm gonna get you ! », he cried and Marc burst out in laughter, giving him small glances on top of his shoulder.
You laughed, watching them chase one another, tossing small snowballs and slipping in the snow every now and then, until Tim caught up to him, caged him in his embrace and wore the beanie on his head, sliding it down until it reached his nose. Marc giggled deliriously as Timothée nudged him and tickled him, their laughter echoing louder and louder through the night, bringing warmth to your heart. He eventually helped him adjust his hat better.
« It scratches ! », Marc whined again.
« Why are you so stubborn ? », Tim nudged his side again.
« Dad ! Stop ! », he laughed. His feet suddenly slipped, and Timothée tried to catch him but Marc was sneaky and dragged him to the plush hills of snow. He climbed then on top of him with no breath. « Surender ? », Timothée huffed before raising his hands up, and nodded eagerly.
« Boys, yâalright ? », you asked with furrowed brows a bit concerned.
« Dad surrendered ! », Marc smiled at you, as you slowly approached them.
Marc tented his hand for you but when you gave it to him, he pulled you down just like he did with his father.
« Youâre good ? », Tim turned to you.
« Iâm good, » you muttered behind your teeth, trying to get up. Marcâs laughter was loud and clear in the back. « But this little monkey wonât be if I catch him. » He let out a yelp and quickly made his way back to the house, tossing snow out of his path.
« Let me help you, » you gave Tim your hand once you stood up. He looked at it for a second. « Donât be so suspicious, » a smile appeared on your lips when you saw him chuckling. You rolled your eyes and looked away. « Offer just expired. » As you were about to take your hand back TimothĂ©e grabbed it and pulled you down right next to him.
« Ah ! Like father, like son ! » He laughed.
« Looks like he took something from me after all. »
« Something ? Tim, he looks exactly like you. » He grinned proudly at your words and you nodded eagerly. « Itâs cunning. »
« And he has my mischievousness. » You smiled. « Heâs a good kid, » he said as an afterthought. You looked at him for a moment before your stare fell down. The situation was tragicomic, it deserved a bitter smile.
« Yeah, he is, » you murmured.
Those little moments you spent together reminded you of how much you missed being next to him. You didnât even have to talk, just sit in silence. It was painful knowing youâd never feel like that again without a hint of pain.
Timothée furrowed his brows, his eyes following you as you got up, and, this time without offering your hand, headed to the house.
He ran behind you, the sound of his boots sinking into the smooth surface making you smile. You turned to wait for him and once he reached you, he playfully touched the back of your neck with his bare hand. A long gasp escaped your mouth and your back arched, the cold transferring goosebumps down your spine. You pushed him away, mumbling all sorts of curses as he joined you inside laughing.
« Hands ? », you pointed at Marc who was bringing a pile of toys to the living room. TimothĂ©e checked on his watch the time and it was too late.Â
« Washed âem ! »
« You sure ? », you raised a brow.
« I washed them, smell, » he raised one hand for you to see which caused some toys to fall to the ground. Marc groaned.
« I trust you. »
Tim grasped some of the toys from his hug to help him and you picked up the rest from the ground.
« Where are you going with all of these, baby ? Itâs time for bed. »
« But Iâm not sleepy, dad... » You left the toys on top of the living room table.
« You need to rest, you know what time it is ? », Timothée rubbed his shoulder gently. Marc looked at him pleadingly.
« I wanna stay and play with you... »
« But weâre gonna sleep too, » Tim said. « Weâll put you to bed, and then weâll sleep because weâre very tired. »
« No, I wanna stay with you... Please... »
« Alright, hereâs what weâre gonna do, » you said taking his hand in yours. « Weâll leave all the toys here and youâll go to bed now- »
« No, please, mum, » he squeezed your palm.
« Just listen, Iâm making a suggestion, » you said and Tim just couldnât hold on to his smile. « The later you sleep the less energy youâll have in the morning and you wonât be able to play. So, what weâre gonna do is leave everything right here and in the morning you can play for as long as you want. » Marc breathed out and reluctantly nodded.
« Will you wake me up early ? », he mumbled raising his hands for Timothée to take him in his arms. He did so pressing a kiss on his cheek as Marc failed to suppress a yawn.
« Of course I will, » you ruffled his hair.
« Promise ? »
« Yeah. »
« Swear to God ? » You chuckled.
« Yeah, swear to God. »
« Hope to die ? »
« Hope to die. » He smiled sleepily, letting his head fall on his fatherâs shoulder as you headed into his bedroom.
You leaned against the doorframe while Tim put him to his bed.
« Tuck me in, please ? », he murmured. TimothĂ©e pulled the covers around him. He his hair back to press a kiss on his forehead and you walked closer. You leaned on top of his bed to kiss his cheek for good night.Â
« Good night, baby. »
« Love you, monkey. »
« Love you too, dad, » his hand wrapped around yours for a moment. « Stay till I fall asleep ? » You nodded in return.
You stayed in silence for a few minutes, watching Marc slowly close his eyes. He was sprawled out on his tummy, nose pressed on the side of the pillow, nostrils flaring, releasing small snores from his mouth.
TimothĂ©e stared at you as you pushed gently curls out of his eyes. He had forgotten how it felt to be loved by you but he could see it in Marc, the most delicate and pure kind of love.Â
A grin appeared on your lips, and you turned to him.
« I love looking at him when heâs sleeping, » you whispered. « He reminds me of when he was a baby. Remember ? »
Every time he watched how much you loved your son and cared about him, it reminded him of why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. He fell for you because you cared about the ones you loved and your love reflected on them, thatâs why he was glowing every time he was with you. And he had missed that glow and you, the one causing it.
You could feel his gaze on you so you turned to him.
« I remember, » he said softly. « And I miss everything... » Your eyes stayed on him. « Is it too late ? »Â
The next morning, you had breakfast in a strange silence, only Marc talking and you softly smiling and nodding at whatever he was saying. You avoided TimothĂ©eâs eyes and he preferred to look at his plate, which Marc found weird and exchanged glances between the two of you trying to find out what had happened all of a sudden.
« Alright, » you kissed Marcâs forehead as he put on his seatbelt in the back of TimothĂ©eâs car. « Have fun with dad. »
« Bye, mum ! », Marc waved his hand.
« Iâm gonna miss you, baby, » you said and closed the car door. He pouted his lips and placed his palm on the window. You placed your hand on top of his for a moment before turning to Tim. « Okay, drive safe. » He was biting his lips clearly troubled by your last nightâs conversation. « Weâre good, TimothĂ©e, » you meant to reassure him that everything was fine but he just motioned to your house.
« Iâll walk you to the door, » he said, following beside you with hands buried in his pockets. Your mind was blurry, couldnât really think anything, just waited for him to take back everything he said, to tell you that he got carried away by nostalgia and it was just a delirium.Â
You wrapped your arms around you as he lingered on the doorframe.
« About last night, » he looked at you. You shook your head dismissively, facing the ground, not being able to hold his gaze.
« Weâre good, TimothĂ©e. »
« No, euh⊠», he breathed out thinking of how to say what he wanted to say. But it was your time to speak and you had only one question to ask.Â
« Did you mean it ? » He nodded. Your eyes fell down again but you could feel him staring at you, waiting for something more. « Alright, » you said, pulling your hair back. « Euh... drive safe. » He stood better, taking a step back.
« Hey, euh... Do you wanna go out sometime ? »
« Sure, when Marc- »
« No, no, » he shook his head quickly. « Go out like... just us. Properly. Like on a date. » You raised your brows in surprise and he shrugged. You just stared at each other for a moment, one unable to believe what he had just said, the other unable to believe what she had just heard.
« Okay... But no flowers. »
« Okay, got it, » Tim said, moving back, biting his lips so he could stop himself from smiling. « Okay, bye. »
« Drive safe. »
huge bob dylan fan and i think t did a very good job but can i say i dont like the trailerâŠâŠâŠâŠ some of the lines are just making me think this will unfortunately be another cringey biopic đ”âđ«and the joan wtf
i really liked timo too (as expected) !! about the trailer; i think all trailers are kind of cringey & i hate them all, so ig well see. and think about this. there are a million dylan biopics out there, how much more cringey this one can be ?? the real issue though is WTF WAS THAT TINY ASS NIGHTY JOAN WORE ??? BECAUSE JOAN WOULD NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER. im not even going to talk about her ethnicity. its like they just took a name & ignored her entire personality.
oh man i know im going to hate the joan baez depiction
TimothĂ©e Chalamet on the set of âMarty Supremeâ on October 7, 2024 in NYC. đ„đ„đ„
IG credit to concretediary and JustJared
TimothĂ©e Chalamet on the set of âMarty Supremeâ in New York City.
timothee has never been more attractive
i need him bad.
TimothĂ©e Chalamet filming âMarty Supremeâ in NYC on October 7, 2024. đđđ
IG credit to splashnews
pleaseeeee give him to meee
TimothĂ©e Chalamet filming âMarty Supremeâ in NYC on October 7, 2024. đ„đ„đ„
Twitter credit to elizalian and jakexia27
Oh my god I just found your blog!!! Cant believe I am only discovering it now, I loved your fic "I will always be here" :)))
hii <3
TimothĂ©e Chalamet on the set of âMarty Supremeâ on October 2, 2024 in New York City. đ„đ„đ„
HEâS SOOOOO FINEđđ„
đ„ž why is this emoji lowkey him lol