I Love Himbos

is he a baddie or just a curly haired brunette

I think I’m understanding it now

introducing 70s BABYDOLL READER paired with 70s chris

“That summer of 1976, when everybody called me baby and it didn’t occur to me to mind”

Her voice is smooth, with a soft New York accent that peeks through in her vowels, giving her words a rhythm all their own. It’s the kind of voice you could listen to for hours, whether she’s humming along to a Bee Gees tune or passionately defending her love for disco. While everyone else seems to roll their eyes at her playlist, she just laughs and turns the volume up, unapologetically dancing to the beat of her own world.

She’s always got a little gloss on her lips and a smirk in her eyes, like she knows something you don’t. There’s a warmth to her presence, a softness that makes people want to be better just to deserve her attention. She doesn’t demand it, though—she’s not the kind of girl who needs to shout to be heard. Her laugh is soft but unforgettable, the kind that sticks in your head long after she’s gone, like a melody you can’t quite place.

She has a passion for little joys—collecting vinyl records, baking cookies she insists aren’t perfect, but everyone eats anyway, and reading paperbacks with broken spines. She loves the smell of old books and the sound of rain against her window, and she swears there’s no better feeling than stepping onto a dance floor under shimmering disco lights. She’s not a loud person, but there’s something magnetic about her—a quiet kind of confidence that makes her impossible to ignore.

She’s gentle but firm, the kind of person who listens without judgment but doesn’t hesitate to call you out when you’re being ridiculous. She believes in authenticity, in living life fully, even if that means sticking out a little more than she intended. And when she looks at you, it feels like she’s seeing right through every facade, straight into the core of who you are—and liking what she finds.

@issysh3ll

hamzah is literally my husband

introducing..

໑ 70s POPULAR GIRL QUEN

“Girls are never supposed to be powerful or confident or assertive. But why not?”

POPULAR QUEN… whose laughter rings through the halls, rich and unfiltered, turning heads because it’s too bright, too alive to ignore.

POPULAR QUEN… whose stare could slice through steel, yet softens for those clever enough to keep up and kind enough to deserve

POPULAR QUEN… who holds secrets like jewels, tucked away and gleaming, never careless with them, unless you make her careless.

POPULAR QUEN… whose skin catches the light like it’s always golden hour, her presence warm but untouchable, like the last flicker of sunset.

POPULAR QUEN… who could break hearts just by forgetting names, yet remembers the way her friends take their coffee.

POPULAR QUEN… who sees through the cracks in people, sharp-eyed and steady, offering kindness like a rare, fleeting thing.

POPULAR QUEN… who doesn’t need a crown to rule, her presence alone bends the room, like gravity pulling everything toward her.

POPULAR QUEN… who laughs louder than the music at parties, head thrown back, untouchable in her joy, like the world exists just to entertain her.

POPULAR QUEN… who doesn’t start drama but will end it with one sentence that feels like a slap and a smile.

POPULAR QUEN… who holds herself like she’s invincible because she’s had to be, but lets the right people see the cracks.

POPULAR QUEN… who remembers the little things you told her once, your favorite song, the snack you love—and brings it up like it’s nothing, but it’s everything.

POPULAR QUEN… who pretends not to care, but you notice how her eyes light up when you actually listen to her stories.

POPULAR QUEN… who holds onto old letters and birthday cards in a box under her bed, rereading them when the house is too quiet.

POPULAR QUEN… who talks and talks until she’s tired, and then sits quietly, staring off like she’s somewhere far away.

POPULAR QUEN… who gives hugs that linger just a second longer than expected, like maybe she needed it too but won’t admit

POPULAR QUEN… who laughs so hard she has to wipe tears from her eyes, shoulders shaking, and for a moment, she’s just a girl, not the queen of the room.

POPULAR QUEN… who will roll her eyes at your bad joke but fight back a smile because she secretly loves that you tried.

POPULAR QUEN… who teases you without mercy but softly fixes your collar before you walk away, like she can’t help but care.

this one was for the 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽 girlies

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba11s @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

FROSTED FLAKES pt.2

In the summer of ‘76,, Matt meets a walking social disaster. In simpler terms.. a girl. I know. Matt Sturniolo and girls aren’t exactly a match made in heaven. But maybe this one is an exception?

Matt Sturniolo wasn’t a guy people noticed. He was the one on the edge of every conversation, hands shoved in his pockets, nodding along but never speaking. He existed in the background, the human equivalent of white noise, there, but never quite there. And he was okay with that.

But for some reason, ever since that day at the grocery store, he kept noticing her.

At first, it was just a passing thought. A flash of curls and big brown eyes somewhere in the back of his mind. Then, it was something worse, a weird, nagging feeling, like he was waiting for something. Like maybe he’d run into her again.

Except summer stretched long and hazy, and she didn’t show up anywhere. Not at the record store when he went with Nick. Not at Nate’s house, where the air was thick with the scent of weed and cheap cologne. Not even at the parties Chris dragged him to, where everyone blended together into a blur of voices and smoke and music that wasn’t as good as people thought it was.

So, he forgot. Mostly.

But then school started.

And there she was.

At first, it was just a glimpse in the hallway, like a trick of the light. Then he saw her again, on the front steps, in the cafeteria, at the lockers, in the exact wrong places at the wrong times. And every time, it was like some cosmic joke, like fate was dangling something just out of reach.

He didn’t approach her, of course. Matt Sturniolo did not approach girls.

Chris would. Chris could walk up to any girl, any time, and just talk. Didn’t matter who, didn’t matter where, he had a way of slipping into conversations like he belonged there.

Matt? He was lucky if he could get a sentence out without sounding like an idiot.

So he didn’t talk to her. He just… saw her. More than he should’ve.

It was starting to feel like some kind of setup.

Then came the next morning.

Chris had to go in early for tutoring, something about making up for skipping too many classes last year, so Matt got dragged along for the ride. The school was barely awake yet, the halls stretching empty and hollow.

With nothing else to do, he went to the cafeteria, figuring he’d sit there until people started showing up.

And that’s when he saw her.

She was standing in the breakfast line, her hair a little wilder than usual. She grabbed a little plastic bowl of Frosted Flakes and a carton of milk, shaking the box like she was testing how much was inside.

Matt didn’t mean to stare.

But she must’ve felt it, because right then, she looked up, straight at him.

And smiled.

It wasn’t just a polite smile, either. It was real, bright, warm, like she knew something he didn’t.

Then, before he could even think about looking away, she turned and walked right toward him.

Matt swallowed hard, his hands instinctively tucking into his hoodie pockets as she dropped into the seat across from him, setting her tray down with a little clack.

Matt stiffened, pulse kicking up, every instinct screaming at him to look away, act normal, pretend you weren’t staring like a freak.

“Hey,” she said casually, ripping the plastic lid off her cereal. “You always sit here?”

Matt blinked. He hadn’t expected her to actually talk to him.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. My brother had tutoring.”

She tilted her head. “Huh. Didn’t know they did tutoring this early.” Then she scooped up some cereal, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at him again. “You got a name, or should I just call you ‘guy who stares at me from across the room’?”

Matt felt heat creep up his neck. Great. She noticed.

“Sturniolo,” he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Matt,” he amended.

She nodded approvingly. “Better.” Then, after a beat, she slid the bowl of cereal toward him. “Hold this for a sec? Gotta grab a napkin.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving him sitting there, staring down at a bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes.

Matt exhaled, running a hand down his face.

This girl was gonna be a problem.

Matt sat stiffly, staring down at the bowl of Frosted Flakes like it was some kind of test. The milk was already turning sugary and pale, the cereal floating lazily on top. He didn’t dare touch it.

Across the cafeteria, she was rifling through the napkin dispenser, curls bouncing with every movement. Like she wasn’t even thinking about the fact that she’d just sat down with him. Like this wasn’t weird at all.

Matt felt his throat tighten.

She didn’t even know who he was. She probably sat down because he looked alone, and people like her had a way of making things less awkward for the ones who didn’t fit in. It didn’t mean anything.

So why was he sitting here like his entire morning had just been thrown off course?

Before he could think too much about it, she was back, napkin in hand, sliding into her seat like she belonged there. She pulled the cereal back in front of her, barely sparing him a glance before she dug in again.

“Thanks, Matt.”

His stomach did something weird at the way she said his name. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like they’d always been friends.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

She grinned mid-bite, like she could hear the awkwardness in his voice.

“So, do you, like, not eat breakfast, or do you just enjoy staring at people while they eat?”

Matt frowned, crossing his arms. “I don’t stare.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Mmm.”

“I don’t,” he insisted, but it came out weak, because, well… maybe he had been looking at her more than he should’ve.

She didn’t push it, just smirked like she knew something he didn’t. “Alright, not-staring-Matt, what’s your deal?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Like, what’s your thing?” she said, waving her spoon. “Everyone’s got something. You a football guy? A stoner? One of those weird band kids?”

Matt hesitated. He could’ve told her about movies, about the hours he spent watching and rewatching old foreign films no one else cared about. About the way music sounded different on vinyl, how he had a whole crate of records stacked in his room. But all of that felt… too personal.

So he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

She sighed dramatically. “God, you’re so cryptic.”

“I’m not cryptic,” he muttered.

“You totally are,” she said, shaking her head. “I bet you’re, like, the brooding type. Probably lean against lockers all mysterious, making girls wonder what your deal is.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That’s me. Real mysterious.”

She laughed, and Matt didn’t realize how much he liked the sound of it until it was already out there, loud and full and unfiltered.

For a second, they just sat there, her eating, him sitting there, unsure of why he wasn’t getting up, why he wasn’t saying something stupid to ruin the moment.

Then—

“Hey, there you are.”

Matt’s shoulders tensed as he heard Chris’s voice.

He turned to see his brother strolling toward the table, looking like he owned the place, because Chris always looked like that. His grayish-purple shirt was half unbuttoned, his dark hair tousled in that effortless way that made girls trip over themselves.

And, of course, he noticed her immediately.

Chris slid into the seat next to Matt, grinning lazily at her. “Hey. Who’s your friend?”

Matt opened his mouth to say I don’t know, but before he could, she answered for him.

“Sage.” She stuck out a hand. “And you must be the brother?”

Chris took her hand like he was some kind of movie star, shooting her the most flirty smile, which Matt knew all too well. “of course.”

Matt groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

He could already tell, this was about to get so much worse.

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetsss @b1gba113r @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerlykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

Need them in a gay A24 psychological romcom set in the 1970s, about two best friends,one flirty, loud and outgoing kind of a bimbo, the other quiet and thoughtful and smart, who skip college and build a small custom tailoring service from scratch. Their bond deepens, so does the tension between friendship and something more, Mikey’s character becoming more bold and possessive over Ayo’s character and touchy BUT she has a boyfriend that she goes on to marry. Over time, their success grows and start getting richer and more valued and respected clients, but so do the pureness of their relationship, until years later in 1985, Mikey’s character is found dead and the other is accused of her murder. Ayo’s character keeps having hallucinations and seeing her as her younger and older self. Told through a mix of flashbacks and present day court scenes, the story blends love, obsession, grief, and guilt, and the ending showing her not guilty but leaving the audience to decide what really happened because it feeds into both narratives of weather she did it or not. It also takes a look at the corrupt side of Mikey’s character since they knew eachother her senior year and Ayo’s character was a freshman when she started picking at her and flirting with her until they became close friends.

@imawinnerforever

don't say that abt saxon pleasEE don't need to get ideas in my head rn. i get why he feels disgusted n all that but it doesn't need to end on suicide 😭😭 they were on drugs n drunk as fuck

Your right bae let me not put that in the air rn. But that’s not the craziest solution to his problem 😭🙏🏽 I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him airing the whole place out in episode one

Do yall want the playlist?