#70s gif

[lovelymylene]

Introducing.. 70s TEENAGE DIRTBAG HAZMAH

“The older you get, the more rules they’re gonna try to get you to follow. You just gotta keep on livin man.”

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who films people without warning, sticking a mic in their face to ask, “If you had to live in a movie, which one would it be?”

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who acts like he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble for filming in class, but the second the principal calls his name, his palms start sweating.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who doesn’t really know how to be a person unless Martin’s around, like he needs the right energy to pull his own personality out of him.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who never remembers to study but can recite entire movies word for word, like that’s gonna get him somewhere.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who makes a joke about everything, even when he shouldn’t, because silence makes him itch.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who always talks like he’s half-asleep, voice low and lazy, until Martin’s around, and suddenly he’s the funniest guy in the room.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who ends up outside the party with Martin, both of them eating cold pizza on the curb while some guy they barely know throws up in the bushes.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who holds up a hideous sweater and says, “This is it. This is the one. I was meant to wear this.” before Martin tells him he looks like someone’s grandfather.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who sneaks his camera into the movie theater, not to pirate the film, but just to capture his friends’ reactions in the dim light, like the real movie is happening in their faces.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who gets popcorn stuck in his throat and starts coughing so hard the old couple behind him groans.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who somehow ends up in the parking lot after the movie, lying on the hood of Martin’s car, debating if he actually liked it or if the soundtrack was just that good.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who gets dared to steal something stupid from a gas station, like a single packet of ketchup, and does it just to make Martin laugh.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who lets his cats sleep on his chest while he watches late-night boxing matches, absentmindedly scratching their ears like it’s routine.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who talks to his cats like they’re his roommates, muttering “You guys gotta start paying rent” when they knock something over.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who films his cats more than he films people, zooming in dramatically while narrating, “Here we have the elusive house panther in its natural habitat.”

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who gets caught sneaking snacks into school in the pocket of his denim jacket, playing dumb like, “Oh, you meant I can’t bring an entire box of Frosted Flakes?”

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who stays up too late watching old boxing matches, telling himself he’ll sleep early next time, but never does.

teenage dirtbag hamzah.. who will absolutely lie about his plans just to avoid socializing, but if Martin calls, he’s already grabbing his jacket.

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @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

[thecodeisveroncia]

In my head I am screaming

[skinkmi]

[lunasblunt]

70s logan moodboard

[junkfoodcinemas]

ALIEN Franchise (1979-2024)

[soviet-furries]

Nu Pogodi!

Soyuzmultfilm, 1972

[geminiluvv]

Lialeh (1974) ♡

[zanephillips]

Revenge of the Cheerleaders (1976)

[fiercebitch]

[inthedarktrees]

Isabelle Adjani in The Tenant (1976)

[the-golden-purple-box]

[lovelymylene]

70s teenage dirtbag hamzah meeting reader at some old vhs place and immediately gushing to martin abt her ...

the WARRIORS

teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader

summary.. A chance encounter at a dusty VHS store leaves Hamzah completely hooked.. now all he can do is rewind the moment in his head and gush to Martin like an idiot.

VHS & Chill was the kind of place that smelled like stale popcorn and forgotten cigarette smoke, the scent of dust settling over old plastic cases stacked on wire racks. The sign outside flickered weakly, a busted neon “Open” buzzing against the quiet hum of the street. It wasn’t the busiest spot in town, most kids preferred the drive-in or the record store, but Hamzah liked it here. The silence. The low hum of a TV in the background playing something grainy and forgotten. The feeling that no one was really watching him, that he could just exist.

Martin, on the other hand, didn’t give a damn about silence. He was already flipping through tapes, tossing titles at Hamzah like he was quizzing him. The Last Picture Show? “Depressing.” Enter the Dragon? “Classic.” Harold and Maude? “Kinda weird, but I dig it.” Hamzah let out a breath, running a hand over his buzzed head, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his camera. It was second nature at this point, filming the nothingness of his days, capturing the way life looked when you weren’t really a part of it.

And then she walked in.

Hamzah didn’t even notice her at first, not really. Just the soft jingle of bracelets, the scuff of thick rubber soles against linoleum. It wasn’t until she passed by, the scent of vanilla and something deeper, warmer, hitting him like a sucker punch, that he actually looked up. Her hair framed her face perfectly, like one of those actresses in French films he pretended to understand, and she was wearing these shoes, chunky, broken-in, the kind that made a girl look like she could stomp you out if she wanted. A black baby tee, gold jewelry catching the dim light, making her look untouchable, unreal.

Hamzah stared.

And then Martin, the menace, clocked him immediately. “Oh, hell no,” he whispered, grinning. “Don’t even say it.”

“I—” Hamzah started, but Martin cut him off.

“Dude. Every time.”

“This is different.”

“It’s never different.”

Hamzah huffed, gripping his camera like it might stabilize him. “She looks like she has good taste.”

“She just walked in, man.”

“And?”

Martin just shook his head, amused, but Hamzah could feel it, the inevitable. The way he was already forming theories in his head. What movies she liked. What kind of music she listened to when no one was around. If she’d think his camera thing was weird or if she’d let him interview her with that lazy, amused look that pretty girls always had when he got too in his head.

She was flipping through the cult classics section now, rings glinting as she ran her fingers over the spines of old VHS tapes. Hamzah was not gonna go up to her. Absolutely not. His social skills were limited to Martin and his cats, and he was barely holding onto those. But then.. then she grabbed The Warriors, tilting her head like she was debating it.

Hamzah’s mouth moved before his brain did. “That’s a good one.”

She turned, surprised, and for a second, he thought maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. But then.. she smiled. Not big, not showy, just enough for him to see the amusement behind her eyes.

“Yeah?” she said, flipping the tape in her hands. “Think it’s worth it?”

Hamzah swallowed, nodding. “Definitely.”

And just like that, Martin was grinning like a devil over his shoulder, and Hamzah knew he was doomed.

The second she walked out the door, the little bell jingling behind her, Hamzah let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. He turned to Martin, eyes wide, heart still stuttering in his chest like an old car refusing to start.

“Oh, man,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, man.”

Martin just stared at him, arms crossed, already smirking like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Here we go.”

Hamzah ignored him. He was still staring at the door, like maybe she’d come back, like maybe he’d get another chance to act like a normal human being around her.

“Did you see her?” he asked, half in a daze. “Like, actually see her? The shoes, man. The jewelry. She smelled like—I don’t even know, but I think I just got cursed or something. That was—I think I’m actually losing my mind.”

Martin snorted. “Dude, she bought The Warriors. That’s literally the bare minimum.”

Hamzah whipped his head toward him, scandalized. “The bare minimum?! That’s cinematic taste, Martin. That’s culture.”

Martin held up his hands. “Okay, okay, relax, movie nerd. So what, you gonna actually talk to her next time?”

Hamzah groaned, tipping his head back. “I did talk to her.”

“Telling a girl a movie is ‘good’ doesn’t count as talking, dumbass.”

Hamzah let out another sigh, glancing back at the door. His camera was still clutched in his hands, fingers drumming anxiously against the side. Next time, he thought. If there was a next time.

And God, he really wanted there to be a next time.

I accidentally got lost in the sauce and stayed up all night writing this and now I’m running off no sleep..

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @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

[kafkalegacy]

[ultrakillblast]

THE HOBBIT (1977)

[yodaprod]

New York (1978)

Source : Youtube/MackenzieRough