#TheseShipsShallSail
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talkingwoman · 6 months ago
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One vague fear about Complete Unknown Like most who have seen the trailer for Timmy’s next knock out performance, I am almost giddy about the new film.  My only lingering concern is that the script and treatment might not meet the standard of our boy’s performance.  The Rolling Stone article on Complete Unknown apparently shares my angst a little bit since they closed the article with the interviewer saying something like “ Since Dylan managed to get himself involved in the production we can assume that it will not be all true.”  To which Mangold, the film’s writer and director simply smiled and said “we’ll let that be your quote.”  Since I tend to fret about such stuff, could some of you please take a moment to reassure me that fan possessiveness about the legend of Bob Dylan will not affect the critical or box office success of Complete Unknown??   I’ve read Dylan fanatics’ critiques of Timmy and sense there will be more stringent evaluations of his performance as Dylan than Rami Malek, Gary Oldham, or Renee Zellweger got for their Oscar winning performances as Freddy Mercury, Winston Churchill, or Judy Garland.  Maybe the safest way to Oscar-land is to portray dead people?  Can you tell I am aching for Timmy’s talent to be acclaimed by his peers?
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cmbynwritingfests · 2 years ago
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💕 Precarious 💕
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Author : TheseShipsShallSail
Prompt : Experiment
Pairing : Oliver / Elio
Rating : E
Words : 482
Summary : They’ve never done it like this: broad palms supporting his weight where they’re busy squeezing his ass. Lighting him up with pleasure inside. Oliver’s panting - damn near groaning with every stroke - and Elio crosses his ankles at the small of his back, left with little choice but to hang on for the ride.
💕 READ ON AO3 💕
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thedalektables · 2 months ago
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Sequel, Romance, Season/Series 01 Summary:
Sequel to Red Roses And Fairytales. Rose and the Doctor finally make it to Jackie’s Halloween Party. What’s the worst that can happen?
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theseshipsshallsail · 2 months ago
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Happy Birthday, Elio Perlman. Then, now, and every tomorrow ❤️
My sincere apologies for leaving them crying in an airport bathroom for so long...
Summary:
“Regarde toi…” Elio murmurs, smothering a tipsy hiccup in the crease of their overstuffed pillow. “You look happy.” Oliver huffs. “I am happy,” he says, leaning in for a kiss: his clumsy tongue flavoured with the musky essence of Elio’s previous release.
HE WHOM LOVE TOUCHES (NOT WALKS IN DARKNESS)
In the liminal space between dreams and consciousness, where everything is hazy, blissful, and calm, Elio savours the post-coital high as a roaming palm draws abstract patterns on his outer thigh; chasing the field of goosebumps before settling - warm and possessive - in the shallow corrugation of his rib cage.
It’s a strange contradiction, all told. 
A charged sort of intimacy that keeps him buoyed by the ache of overtaxed muscles. 
The memory of Oliver moving inside him. 
The thickness. 
The stretch. 
The damp spill of semen saturating the rucked-up sheets.
He should fix that, he supposes, letting loose an almighty yawn, but his listless limbs refuse to cooperate as they gather their scrambled senses, and the other man’s grin - fond, jetlagged, coy to the point of transparency - holds him enthralled in the slate-grey pool of moonlight. 
“Regarde toi…” Elio murmurs, smothering a tipsy hiccup in the crease of their overstuffed pillow. “You look happy.”
Oliver huffs. “I am happy,” he says, leaning in for a kiss: his clumsy tongue flavoured with the musky essence of Elio’s previous release. “You - you make me happy,” he adds, humming an off-key rendition of Love My Way over the late-night drone of Via Manzoni:the song they’d so recklessly danced to not three months prior in a dingy, Roman piazza. “S’just like Plato said…”
Elio frowns; slightly perplexed by their trip into left-field. “Plato?” he asks,  rallying his drowsy focus.
“Symposium,” Oliver slurs, gaze a little bleary. “Have you read it?” 
A scoff. “Son of a professor, mon ami. I still have my father’s flash-cards.”
“So you’re familiar, then?” Oliver pauses; brushing an errant curl from Elio’s temple. “With his theories involving the human form?”  
“Absolument...” But it’s a deep-seated game of theirs - this idle exchange of wisdom - and one he’s loath to forfeit despite his heavy eyelids. “Indulge me anyway?”
“Don’t I always?” Oliver giggles, then clears his throat theatrically: every inch the college professor. “On the basis of Plato’s teachings,” he begins, hooking an ankle behind Elio’s exposed calf. “...there was a time we all looked vastly different… with four legs, four arms, and two heads apiece. We had two necks, also,” he continues, cupping his nape as if it were made of glass. “Two noses and two mouths…”
Featherlight, Oliver skims a thumb the full curve of Elio’s earlobe, wreaking havoc on his staccato lungs as it journeys even lower; gently parting the seam of his lips.
“But the gods… fearing the untapped power we held in such forms… took it upon themselves to split us. Right down the middle.” 
Elio shivers as he draws an invisible line from chin to navel. 
“And in doing so, condemned us to a life of half-measures. Constantly searching for that which was stolen, in order to - to feel complete.” 
“The physical and spiritual alike,” Elio quotes, knocking their sweat-slick foreheads together. “So how will we know?” he asks softly, all carefully crafted nonchalance. “When we find our other halves, I mean?” 
Oliver smiles: hummingbird-heart fluttering against his chest. “I found you, didn't I?” Another kiss; rich as torta tenerina. “I worship you,” he says, the flush of his cheeks belying his confident demeanour, and Elio curses that last round of birthday shots as he’s overwhelmed by the swell of raw emotion. The bigger-than-this, more-than-us awareness that’s gripped them from the start. “Is that okay?”
A pendulous nod. 
“You don’t doubt it?” 
Elio blinks back the mortifying sting of tears. “Just myself,” he whispers at length, unable to quash his niggling insecurities, and Oliver sighs as he captures his wrist; ink-stained fingers tracing the spiderweb veins at his pulse.
“Please don’t,” he begs, forever unfazed by the trials and tribulations of a long-distance relationship. “Please don’t doubt the only thing I’ve ever been sure of.”
To name a belief - his grandfather once told him - is to give it shape. Sound. An echo. There's power in speaking, my boy! In being spoken about - and here in his childhood bedroom, Elio thanks his lucky stars as he breathes in the bergamot-citrus of Oliver’s shampoo. The syrupy sweetness of spilt Amaretto. The burnt-tar bitterness of unfiltered Gauloises. 
“I know you too,” he says, mirroring his candid confession. “I see you. Corps, esprit, et âme.”
It doesn’t matter that he’s crying. 
That his wayward emotions are on display. 
The other man’s faith is inherently grounding, and flattening his palm over Oliver’s star of David Elio reels him in by the silver chain; butterflies taking flight in his stomach as he thinks of the hard-fought future that’s destined to lie ahead. 
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just saying.
🙌🙌
IG @theseshipsshallsail
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lostcol · 2 months ago
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9 Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better:
thank you for the tag @eusuntgratie <3
3 ships I like: just 3?! if i must. the 3 i'm reading most right now are malex, payneland, and firstprince
first ship ever: i think the first one i took a stab at writing, literal decades ago and with very questionable results, was brooke and lucas from OTH
last song you heard: my client played that song from the spongebob beach episode for her kids this afternoon, so... that, unfortunately. last song i listened to on purpose was pink pony club
favorite childhood book: oof tough question. i read constantly, my sister and i weren't allowed any TV during the week growing up so we both read a ton. my favorite genre by far was historical fiction, so probably something in there. OH one book I read over and over in middle school was The Long Night by Diane Hoh, a novel set on the Titanic. I did an English project on it in 7th grade when we could pick literally any chapter book, I was mildly obsessed. Ooh I also read Dreadful Sorry and Time Windows (both by Kathryn Reiss) over and over. I still recommend all of them!
currently reading: mostly a lot of fic. Listening to The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt, and Never Have I Ever: Punched My Roommate's V-Card by Willow Dixon. I'm so sorry 😂
currently watching: at this very moment, rewatching Eureka for the umpteenth time (currently on s4). more generally, Roswell New Mexico and The Great British Benefits Handout on my own, and Welcome to Waikiki and What We Do In The Shadows with my roommate
currently consuming: diet peach iced tea, and about to have a bowl of chocolate frosted flakes
currently craving: a bowl of chocolate frosted flakes and sex
tagging: @winderlylandchime @madsworld15 @matriaya @theseshipsshallsail @haxprocess @maryp50 @thingsthatmatter @getmehighonmagic and anyone else! <3
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tandaforever · 1 year ago
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Hi everyone 🤗
It's Week 2 of the Charmie Autumn Festival!
As promised, here are some bonus prompts! Feel free to mix them with the prompts I posted last week.
Main prompts, guidelines and link to the ao3 collection can be found here.
ICYMI: Check out @theseshipsshallsail's fic contribution here!
Have fun! 🍂
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yourapple56-blog · 2 months ago
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Well, @theseshipsshallsail really knows how to close a day beautifully!
So, now it's time for me to call it a day.
Bye for now.
Good Night :D
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ao3feed-cmbyn · 2 years ago
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A Touch In Perpetuity
by TheseShipsShallSail
There’s a quiet moment of understanding. Gentle as the ocean waves lapping the cliff’s edge below. They might be a secret to the rest of the world, but the pair of them know what they mean to one another, and Oliver’s eyes burn with unsatisfied tears as he slips a still-clothed thigh between Elio’s, pinning him down as the steady push-pull of stimulation drives them ever higher.
Words: 743, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 1 of The Cosmic Fragments
Fandoms: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Elio Perlman, Oliver (Call Me by Your Name)
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Additional Tags: POV Oliver (Call Me By Your Name), Monet's Berm, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, pre-Rome, Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Outdoor Sex, Fade to Black, Fluff and Angst, Period-Typical Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Prequel
source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48367567
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mrchalamet-mrstyles · 2 years ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/theseshipsshallsail/721471040021315584/you-know-nonny-ive-just-spent-90-minutes?source=share
Me: "hey, it is weird that Harmie talked a lot about how his children were the thing that stopped him from unaliving himself. Maybe he should be spending his time with them rather that whoring himself around the world like he's been doing since 2016."
Charmies: "LOL! Daddy issues! LMAO imagine how much you hate yourself! Pathetic! Look at how much you care about who Harmie's getting his dick wet with! Go to therapy!"
I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm the one who needs therapy tbh. Charmies are the one who need therapy to get over their internalized mysoginy and learn that supporting abusive men is no bueno.
💯
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avonne-writes · 7 months ago
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@theseshipsshallsail awww that's so cute! ❤️ I found a stock photo for illustration:
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Do you guys have any Pride headcanons? 🏳️‍🌈For example, modern au Bucky taking Gale to a Pride parade for the first time? Or them meeting there?
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cmbynwritingfests · 2 years ago
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💕 Tears Not Yet Spilled 💕
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Author : TheseShipsShallSail
Prompt : Love Confessions + Things Left Unsaid
Pairing : Oliver / Elio
Rating : T
Words : 463
Summary : Perhaps it’s better this way: the silent understanding between them. The things left unsaid.
💕 READ ON AO3 💕
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ao3feed-elioxoliver · 2 years ago
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A Touch In Perpetuity
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/g3S0iFl
by TheseShipsShallSail
There’s a quiet moment of understanding. Gentle as the ocean waves lapping the cliff’s edge below. They might be a secret to the rest of the world, but the pair of them know what they mean to one another, and Oliver’s eyes burn with unsatisfied tears as he slips a still-clothed thigh between Elio’s, pinning him down as the steady push-pull of stimulation drives them ever higher.
Words: 743, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 1 of The Cosmic Fragments
Fandoms: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Elio Perlman, Oliver (Call Me by Your Name)
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Additional Tags: POV Oliver (Call Me By Your Name), Monet's Berm, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, pre-Rome, Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Outdoor Sex, Fade to Black, Fluff and Angst, Period-Typical Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Prequel
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/7xS6qaV
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theseshipsshallsail · 3 months ago
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MUSIC (THE SHORTHAND OF EMOTION)
It was his high school Latin professor who claimed one must be au fait with a number of languages in order to appreciate the world’s hidden meanings, and if Oliver’s learned anything in regards to the walking enigma known as Elio Samuel Perlman, it’s that while he may be fluent in English, French, and his native Italian, the medium of music remains his preferred method of communication; and via which, he expresses himself perfectly. 
The frustrated chords of Chopin and Rachmaninoff, for example, born of their initial games of cat-and-mouse. 
The melancholic strains of Elgar’s Nimrod when they were no longer speaking.
The beckoning call of Bach’s Capriccio when they were.
But then came the berm. A kiss that shocked him to the core. Two endless nights spent staring at the stars whilst Elio hammered away at the Bösendorfer’s ivory keys. Chain-smoking a pack of unfiltered Gauloises as he clung to his mantra of being good. Grateful. That what they had - a friendship unlike all others - would ultimately suffice.
Only it couldn’t.   
Of course it couldn’t.
Under the harsh Riviera sun he’d been reborn, and not even the threat of familial disownment was enough to prevent his leap into the unknown.
The music was different, after that.
After I’ll see you at midnight. 
After I don’t want you to go. 
After I spoke to your father. He’s happy to extend my stay. 
It was richer. 
Brighter. 
Infused in every carefree giggle: tap-tap-tapped over his too-full heart in the burnished light of dawn.
And Oliver? He loves it. 
Loves him. 
The inscrutable maestro who toppled his house of cards, and whose unconditional acceptance settled deep and warm and forever in his rib cage.
They’re ensconced in the villa’s living room, the pair of them, one perfectly idle Wednesday afternoon: Elio plunking bits and pieces at randomas he makes the occasional note on a sheet of ubiquitous staff paper. Sometimes just a scale. Sometimes a whole refrain. Head bowed. Lips pursed. Seemingly unbothered by the portly bumblebee that entered through the unshuttered windows, and has since taken refuge atop the tall glass of apricot juice forgotten on the credenza.
Ostensibly, Oliver’s double-checking his next chapter’s pages for Signora Milani when the other man arches in a cat-like stretch; the hem of his Lacrosse polo-shirt revealing a pale swathe of skin at his hip. Rising from the plush piano bench, he wanders over to the corner, and Oliver’s curiosity sees him setting his revisions aside as Elio casts an eye over his parents’ extensive record collection: running his thumb along the stiff, cardboard spines.
His face is unreadable as he makes his selection. Slides the vinyl from its protective sleeve. Blows the dust from the vintage turntable, then aligns the stylus with the album’s outer groove. But the moment Édith Piaf’s voice crackles through the air - smothering the din of the knife-grinder’s whetstone - Oliver finds himselfcaptivated.
Non, rien de rien, it begins as Elio closes his eyes, swaying gently to the mournfully poignant tone. Non, je ne regrette rien… 
He’s across the room without conscious decision: feeling a tad self-conscious when he offers an unsteady hand.
Feeling decidedly more so when Elio blinks at him owlishly, before finally reaching to take it.
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, the powerful lyrics continue, and his dance partner swallows - clearly bewildered - as Oliver pulls him closer, one palm cradling his slender waist whilst the other flattens their tangled fingers over his left breast pocket. 
Time distils as he guides them into a rocking back-and-forth: Elio’s grip sliding from wrist to elbow, then further, lingering on the sweat-damp hair at Oliver’s collar. If he didn’t know better, he’d think him the picture of innocence, yet the fact that he does - know better, that is - has him grinning like an idiot when he recognises the genuine emotion beneath his slightly-flushed features. 
The three little words that thus far remain unspoken, shining explicitly in his imploring gaze.
“No, I regret nothing,” Oliver translates in a halting whisper, thanking the decisions of his past that irrevocably shaped his future. “Because my life…” he continues, ghosting a kiss to the shell of Elio’s ear. “My joy…” Another, to the hinge of his jaw. “Sweetheart…” The anticipation is glorious. “Today, that starts with you...”
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#onwards and upwards 💙
cr. IG @theseshipsshallsail
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mafaldaknows · 1 year ago
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@theseshipsshallsail ❣️
yay, another troytim shipper. Armie who? The cannibam? Nah, timmy deserves to be with someone sane and umproblematic like Troye. Glad to see you're coming to the good side.
Hello Anon:
Excuse me, what?
“Troytim”?
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Timotroye has a better ring to it, but even so, you are still mistaken, Anon.
I have no idea who you are or where you got that idea about me, but if that’s what you want to believe, that’s your business. Your opinion is meaningless especially since you don’t even have the courage to own it.
Those dots don’t connect, no matter how much you want them to connect.
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BTW, Armie Hammer is not a “cannibam”.
But do go on telling yourself that fantasy about Armie if that’s what floats your boat. Just know that it’s not true.
He has never been charged with any crime, though his ex-wife and his ex-stalker should be since they’re the ones who have actually committed fraud, identity theft, and defamation.
So he still lives rent free in your brain even after all this time, Anon? EffOff, is that you?
Thanks for your comment.
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