#time period post : magazines

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: Magazines and tv guide

Print wasn’t dead yet in the 60s, in fact it was swinging! There was a magazine for about anyone and everyone, any demographic out there there was probably a magazine for you- if not by a major publisher than a niche group or independent publisher.

Common non fiction: Science, news, teenager, women’s , men’s, lifestyle, household

Fiction magazines also existed, either they’re submitted short story collections or exclusively for a type of media. Like monster magazines- dedicated to monster/horror movies - which isn’t exactly fiction but centers on fiction.

Just like magazines today you can pick up certain editions in stores and read those, you can also subscribe to have it come to your house regularly. In this case in the 1960s you’d use a mail in slip or call rather than a website.

Cut outs and send ins-

For the teenagers or movie buffs there’d be photos to cut out and scatter across your wall or door. Sometimes a full page or maybe even a two page spread, other times smaller or even wallet sized! (There’s some of the Outsiders stars in the 1980s! - cut out posters still exist in teen magazines today, less wallet photos though.)

For women’s and home magazines there’s recipes to cut out or copy down, craft directions and stuff like that.

Mail ins! Sometimes it’d be as simple as cutting out a slip, filling out your information and putting cash in the envelope and you’d get the item you’d sent for! (Sometimes simple promotional gear, sometimes nice major items) for more serious and big items -> this was how catalogs worked back in the day! You’d call about something you liked and send the movie!

Contests were also done this way. There was also radio or television contests where you’d have to call in - “lucky caller” etc.

Unsure if telethons started all the way in the 60s but a similar concept of a call being answered on air, but in this case you’re donating rather than receiving.

~

Also on the rise were alternative lifestyle magazines and smaller scale publications, for radical protest groups to simply the alternative. Like LQBT magazines— you’d have to know someone, be quiet about it etc. it’s not exactly in stores.

This plays into the changing standards of the time. The 60s from the mid to late part of the decade is known for the cultural revolution, civil rights, shifting views— as there’d been a steady more liberal view on things such as birth control that had been building for a long time and came to a head.

My history professor did a great example of the song “anything goes” to refer to the first major cultural and standard shift in the 1910s-1920s so you can already imagine the progress. Grandma or mom might’ve been a flapper! Or gramps running hooch! Who knows.

One shifting view and a recent court win when it came to the right to privacy is Pornography. “Skin mags” being a nickname for them, on the rise and popular— course separated or in another room if in a store. Like regular publications you’d have one catering to about anyone,course LGBT ones would again be on a secret knowing someone basis.

Tabloids were also on the rise, but scandalous low brow gossip and conspiracy wasn’t as… praised as it is today.

Tv guide-

Not exactly a magazine but these are relevant to entertainment! Before the tv there was the radio, besides music and news bulletins there were radio shows and plays and audio dramas. All  essentially the same base concept only shows would be a weekly series as opposed to stand alone, these would be advertised on the radio as well as in the newspaper.

Have you had a grandparent or a parent tell you “when I was a kid we only had four channels.” That was also pretty true! There were the main three channels and then sometimes you’d have local or state channels. Then came more national channels and Overtime there was speciality Channels you’d pay for and then by the 80s cable — more channels then you can ever imagine (I know this is hard to picture for the younger crowd but imagine it)

The tv guide was created to tell viewers across America what was on and when! Guides were also relatively localized in their beginning. This was before VCR so if you missed a show you missed it and would have to pray for a re-run (another thing we have Lucille Ball to thank for 🙏).

The TV guide also made special showings more popular and an event. There’d be once or twice a year showings of particular big movies— notably The Wizard of Oz (1939) and Gone with the Wind (1939) - wizard of Oz becoming a particularly huge thing revising the frenzy for the coming 3 generations and boomers (the gang)

It may still exist, or did until recently as a website but once VCR’s rose then tv’s had guides practically built in the publication became less necessary or desired— then streaming killed cable and the normal viewing experience, at least for many. Cable, dish, and regular television still exist— weather it’s acknowledged or not.

[spushii]

i hate advertising BUT i love decades-old advertisements for defunct products because they cant sell anything to me anymore. so it is purely novelty

[hostilecityshowdown]

the amount i need modern wrestling fans to study the von erichs until they're able to point at other wrestlers and go "i know where they learned that" is unreal

[august-racoone]

i love it when i work very hard on something using the limited resources i have and still making something im proud of...

only for my teacher to tell me i did it completely wrong

[nonotnolan]

Trial Period

"Harry, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Blake's voice rang out through the apartment, though I couldn't quite tell why my roommate was currently mad at me. Still, if I didn't talk him down from whatever ledge he was on, he was just going to get more and more pissy. I sighed, and minimized the spreadsheet I was working on.

"Blake, you know I'm working from home today. Whatever you're mad about, you can come in here and talk to me about it. I'm sorry I left some dirty dishes in the sink, or whatever." He must have been mad, whatever I had done-- usually he waited until after he showered to talk to me.

He stomped into the living room so that he could stare down at me. "Oh no. You are in way more trouble than that. I just had the most interesting conversation at the gym today. Some beanpole fairy came up started flirting with me, and when I told him I didn't swing that way, guess what he did?" He paused, clearly waiting for me to confess to something, but I still had no idea why he was upset. "He pulled out his phone, and showed me a whole-ass conversation on Grindr with someone using my photos!"

I couldn't help but laugh, which certainly did not help him calm down. "Okay, and? Look, I'm sorry you got catfished, but I don't know why you're mad at me about it. You're trying to start a modeling career, right? It's one of the unfortunate risks of the job. I'm sorry that one of your Instagram followers has no sense of chill, but I don't see why that makes it my fault."

He shoved his phone into my face. "You see this photo? I downloaded it for a scheduled post, but it's from a gig that hasn't released yet. I'm not allowed to share any of those photos on social media until the magazine spread drops. You're the only other person who could have gotten onto my phone and grabbed it."

Well, that was a complication that I wasn't expecting. I stared at him, trying and failing to think of a loophole that sounded plausible. There was only one thing left to do. "Seth, I know you're in here," I said, loudly projecting my voice. "I know you wanted to try out a few different guys before you committed, but that's not gonna work anymore. The trial period is officially over. You broke it, you bought it. If you don't take Blake, he's going to ruin everything."

Blake scowled at me. "Who the fuck is Seth? Harry, what in the fuck is going on?"

"You're so cute when you're confused," I said, pinching his cheek. He was already pissed at me, I may as well go all out. Besides, I needed to give Seth enough time to prepare. "I'm not actually Harry. I haven't been for the last two weeks, not that you noticed. I'm actually a ghost who decided that this apartment would be a great place to find some new bodies to inhabit. And let's be honest, this whole complex is jam packed with hot, young studs like yourself." I couldn't help but flash an excited grin, and I think I might have let my real eyes flash for a few seconds. Well, whatever. I no longer needed to worry about keeping secrets from Blake.

I had clearly spooked him-- he started creeping backwards toward the door. "Harry, you're scaring me. That's not funny. Don't joke about that sort of thing, Harry. Just… fuck, delete that profile and promise me you won't do it again."

"Like I said, I'm not Harry," I said, grabbing my laptop bag and putting it in arm's length. I pulled out the mason jar that had Harry's soul in it, and placed it on the couch. "This is Harry. Or, what's left of him, anyway." Harry's soul fluttered around in a panic, banging into the glass walls as it tried to escape. Or maybe it was trying to warn Blake about what was about to happen next? It didn't really matter.

Blake had turned to run, but he didn't make it more than a few steps into the kitchen before he fell to the ground, as if something had slammed into his back. Seth hated possessing people using brute force, but his error hadn't left us with many other options. "Sorry for the close call, Phil," he said, adjusting his posture. Where Blake was constantly puffing his chest and arching his back, Seth had more of a forward slouch to his shoulders. It was a posture I was very familiar with-- regardless of the bodies we wore, we had been together long enough to recognize each other's presence.

"At least Blake has a good body," Seth said as he pulled himself up off the ground. "I was probably going to end up choosing this one anyway, to be honest." He started feeling up his chest, giving his nipples a few test pinches and letting out a soft moan. "Oh yeah, he's just as sensitive as I remembered. Do you have any spare jars in your bag? Obviously I didn't have time to put him to sleep before I possessed him, and he's just screaming non-stop in my head right now."

"Sounds like that's what you get for being careless," I said. "You know that helping you expel the soul is my favorite part. I'm not letting you rub one out in the bathroom, we're doing this the right way."

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on, babe. You're at work for another five hours. I already said I was sorry, please don't force me to put up with the flesh owner for that long."

I closed my laptop and started unbuttoning my shirt. "Who said anything about waiting for me to get off work? No one tracks my activity as long as I get my work done on time." I leaned back and started groping Seth's hefty bulge. "Besides, we both know that Harry is trapped in a shit job. I bet we can get him something that pays way better."

He leaned over to give me a deep kiss. "You know, one of these days you'll get tired of turning your new hosts into porn stars," he said, as I grabbed one of the empty soul jars.

"Maybe so," I admitted. "But that day is not today. This body is wasted on white collar work. Anyway, you know the drill. Time for lube-- I want you to ride my cock while I sit here." He placed the jar underneath his hardening cock, ready to catch his load.

The first time we fucked in new bodies was always my favorite. Seth came first, coating the inside of the jar with a layer of jizz in addition to Blake's soul. I wasn't too far behind, since Harry's body was new to gay sex and still quite sensitive. I rolled off to the side and basked in the afterglow while Seth sealed the jar and placed it next to Harry's soul.

"Part of me still wants to be mad at you for almost ruining everything with that 'trial period' idea of yours," I said, as he laid down next to me to cuddle. "Next time we need to pick new hosts, we're picking one and done again. None of this trying out multiple bodies rubbish, it's too much risk."

Seth just smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. "Fine, no more shopping around, I promise. But you know you can't stay mad at me." As we laid there, holding each other tight, I had to admit that he was right.

[newpolartimes]

Introducing the New Polar Times

Are you an independent researcher, writer, artist, or creator? Are you fascinated by the history of polar exploration and looking to explore this in your work? The New Polar Times needs you! We’re working on an upcoming collaborative literary and arts magazine that will showcase the talents, interests, and original work of a new generation of polar enthusiasts.

The New Polar Times will focus on the “Heroic Age” of polar exploration, as well as the transitional periods that bookend it – beginning after the Franklin search expeditions with Charles Francis Hall’s 1871-3 Polaris expedition and ending with the disappearance of Roald Amundsen in 1928.

For our first round of submissions – opening February 28th, 2025 – we will be looking for proposals – no complete works just yet! – for works of the following types:

Historical narrative essays (both written and graphic)

Interdisciplinary research on polar history topics

Experimental/creative works (poems, recipes, infographics, etc.)

Parody works in the style of the original South Polar Times

Standalone artworks & comics

Our second round will open at a later date (to be announced!) and will consist of an application for artists to illustrate some of the written works accepted in round 1 – stay tuned for the announcement if you’re interested!

Further updates and announcements will be posted here as the project progresses, so watch this space!

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

It's Inevitable

Prompt Day 4: Mistletoe | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Brief Period-Typical Homophobia | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, But Is The Town Pariah, First Kiss

The amount of eggnog Steve has requested they pick up is borderline insane. How many people is he expecting at his party tonight? Honestly. The line to checkout at the Big Buy is long, too long, and Eddie regrets offering to be the last minute errand boy.

Everybody's out in full-force stocking up for New Year's, and now it looks like he intends to drink his body weight in yellow sludge.

At least he forced Gareth into coming with him, so he isn't suffering alone.

Waiting for their turn to pay, there is a cardboard box floor display full of sprigs of mistletoe. Clearance priced and ready to move after Christmas. They've all seen better days, and are meant to be an impulse purchase to move them out the door, Unfortunately, Eddie falls for it, hook, line and sinker. He picks one up, and throws one in the top basket of the cart, and continues to wait as he glances at all the magazines, seeing what he can read for free while they're stuck in place.

"What's that for?" Gareth asks, picking up the mistletoe with two fingers, holding it outwards, like it might bite him. 

"The party," Eddie answers, "why are you acting like it's poisonous?"

"It is poisonous," Gareth answers, tossing it back into the cart, then brushes his hands against his jeans, like that will clean them, "Who are you trying to kill?"

"Sssh," Eddie hisses, looking around. It hasn't been long enough that he feels truly comfortable in town, and he definitely doesn't want killing associated with him any fucking longer. Jesus. He just wants to kiss someone. Is that too much to ask?

He doesn't think so.

"I just thought it might make the night interesting, that's all," Eddie finally answers.

"Interesting. Sure. Am I even invited to this party?" Gareth asks.

Eddie sighs, "Yes. You're invited where I'm invited, why do you keep asking that every damn time we do something with Steve?"

"He never talks to me. He only talks to you," Gareth grumbles.

"Do you want to talk to him?" Eddie asks.

"No, not really. But it might be nice to not feel invisible," he says, arms crossed, petulant.

Eddie will tell Steve to say hi or something, make the little shit happy.

The old man behind the register glares at him, which is par for the fucking course. He holds the mistletoe like Eddie is asking to use it on him, and Eddie has to bite his tongue to not be snarky, as the old asshole mumbles under his breath about Eddie being a freak, a queer, a murderer, and Eddie squeezes the handle of the cart. He's two of the three, but this asshole doesn't get to say so.

That's been the worst part of his reentry into society after barely surviving the court of public opinion. The scrutiny, the hatred, still so real that he doesn't feel comfortable being himself in town. He escaped being convicted for murders he didn't commit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to Hopper's miraculous resurrection. He knows that.

But being quiet, and non-reactive, when he feels wronged, is soul-crushing.

He doesn't snap at him, but Gareth does, and nobody is about to cast stones at Carolyn Jones' little boy, freak or not. They are part of the fabric of town, like Eddie never will be.

Gareth sassing him on Eddie's behalf is enough to not make Eddie feel so fucking kicked while he's down, and Eddie smiles as he hands over Steve Harrington's money. Knowing if the old coot knew that, he'd shit bricks.

Back at Harrington's house, Eddie pulls the small bundle out of the sack. It's stupid. He's aware it's stupid. But it gives him a chance, so he's gonna do it. 

"Is that mistletoe?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, funny, right?" 

"For sure, I wonder what weird pairings of people we can lure under there?"

There's only one weird pairing Eddie cares about, and they are both standing right here, right now.

"I don't know, but I'm sure Gareth would appreciate being set up under here with someone cute."

Eddie drags over one of the dining room chairs, and makes sure he takes off his shoes so Mrs. Harrington doesn't see shoeprints if she ever comes home.

"You got a pushpin?" Eddie asks, and Steve disappears to find one. When he turns back up, Eddie loops the ribbon through, and stands on his tiptoes.

He can't quite reach. Fucking vaulted ceilings in rich people houses.

Steve laughs, "Let me get the step ladder." 

Eddie stands there looking at the door frame.

Steve climbs the ladder, and takes the mistletoe from Eddie's hand. And Eddie watches as Steve stretches upwards, pressing the sharp end of the tack into the wood. A sliver of his hairy belly showing as his sweater rides up.

The sweater is red, and looks so soft. Eddie wants to touch it. Touch him.

Steve lowers his arms and then they're just looking at each other.

Steve breaks their eye contact, and comes down one step, readjusting his shirt.

Then they're eye-to-eye again, and Eddie swallows. Shit.

"Well, huh, would you look at that?" Steve says, so fucking smooth that Eddie misses his meaning.

"Look at what?" Eddie asks, because all he can look at is Steve.

"We're standing under mistletoe. Wonder how that got there?"

And then Steve's leaning forward, using his smooth fucking lines on Eddie, and all Eddie can think is that he really shouldn't be doing this off the ground. He's liable to fall and crack open his skull.

But Steve slides his arm over Eddie's shoulder, moving to both pull him closer and keep him secure, as Steve's lips press against Eddie's.

Holy shit.

Eddie kisses back, and hopes that this isn't just Steve being silly. Hoping that maybe this was a mutual good excuse to get this ball rolling.

The moment Steve's tongue touches Eddie's, he knows it isn't a joke.

It's inevitable.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🌿

[moonysbookshelves]

The Cadence of Part-Time Poets

The Cadence of Part-Time Poets by @motswolo

Have been working on this 10 volume set for the past few months now, and they are finally complete. My Magnum Opus. I have peaked and probably depleted all of my brain power.

Thank you to @motswolo for writing such a beautiful story. My brain chemistry has been favourably altered. Will forever flinch when I hear Queen, The Beatles or Bob Dylan. Love to you from western Canada (west coast best coast lets gooooo).

I also posted a TikTok of these since posts here are limited and I love the insides as much as the covers, so if you wanna see between the pages, here’s that.

Also thank you @avisbindery for letting me scream and cry in your DMs while I read the fic. May you get some uninterrupted sleep now LOLLL.

Going to write a whole essay below about the ideas and details because uhhh I wanna yap bit!

So for starters, I wanted to make these binds look like magazines because of the epilogue where (spoiler) Tonya sees Remus in a copy of New Musical Express. But of course this fic is long, so I was like, what if I do multiple volumes? This very quickly spiralled into me painstakingly (finding publication-accurate fonts almost sent me to an early grave) recreating 10 different music-focused magazines from the 70s and 80s from scratch (thank you to Photoshop, Affinity, Procreate and Canva). Each volume features a unique cover, along with stylized typesets to match that display the songs for each chapter but in different designs. And then I went a little crazy and made a 45 sleeve and a cassette too, to really set the scene when I took the photos lol

While the covers display the dates pertaining to the contents of that particular volume (Sept 1975 for volume one, for example) I was thinking about what the magazines would say if they were really published when Marauders are traipsing about being spectacular and famous in the future. I sprinkled in details from the fic itself and fanon-ed it a bit, but that was the general inspiration :-) Tried to keep the photos used either faceless/obscured, or to use the fancasts on Mots’ Cadence master post. I also tried to use period-accurate photos but didn’t always succeed, so settled for photos of 4 member bands where I had to :”) But the general intent with the facelessness was that they could be implied to be Marauders. If you squint? lol. Just pretend. Pls.

Volume One: Based upon The Record Song Book. This magazine went on to inspire the typesets, since it publishes lyrics and such. The cover images are of Spacey Jane and David Thewlis.

Volume Two: Based on ZigZag, specifically the issue from July 1978 featuring Siouxie and the Banshees just because I thought it looked sick as fuck. I re-drew the abstract shapes and such in procreate. The cover images are The Clash and a young Gary Oldman. Lord he was foiiine.

Volume Three: Based on Trouser Press, November 1980. The cover images are a young Metallica, and my personal fav fan cast for James, Reiky De Valk. The film negatives are from a Bruce Springsteen tour, 1976.

Volume Four: Based on Gay Times (November 1984), a queer magazine from the UK because this volume contains Wolfstars first kiss hehe. Also hence Somebody To Love plastered all over the covers. The Front cover is Inhaler. The “4A” on this one is of course the boys’ dorm number, but I made the A the lambda symbol as this was a pride symbol in the 70s after Stonewall.

Volume Five: Based on Melody Maker. Front image is Alex Turner. All of the text on this one is pulled directly from the fic. The scene where they all drop acid and James jumps off the roof Almost Famous style had me hootin’ and hollerin’… until Tomny showed up hahaha :”)

Volume Six: Based on IT (International Times, Aug 1971). Front image for this one is Joy Division, and the back features Jane Asher for Lily

Volume Seven: Based on Record Mirror, June 1976. Front image is John Taylor of Duran Duran. Yum.

Volume Eight: Based on Rolling Stone. More vibes than anything for this one, but the quote still makes me laugh.  Front image is of Matt Hitt. Can you tell I photoshopped a cell phone out of this one? IDK. This photo just screamed ‘Remus’ to me so I had to use it. The back image is an old cigarette ad, but the photo is taken in Shepherd’s Bush.

Volume Nine: Based on Fusion magazine. Front image for this one is once again Inhaler. Oops. Back cover is our gals. Images are Jodie Foster as Cherry, Brenda Sykes as Mary, and Goldie Hawn as Lottie.

Volume Ten: Based on New Musical Express. You know why :”) These are all victims of fanon, but this one especially. I wanted it to be NME instead of the re-invented logos I’d been doing for all the rest, as I wanted it to look like the magazine the Sister gives to Tonya. I referred to an issue of NME from October 1979 for this and layered in fic references where it made sense to. The cover image for this one is (I think) Cigarettes After Sex. This issue also contains all of the B-Side chapters, and the Marauders song lyrics too just for fun :)

Slasher Chick: This is just my take on what Sybill’s zine could’ve looked like. Prob way off but I just wanted to have fun with this one since I had no cover to reference lol. The zine contains her little write-up and the interview, lifted straight from the fic :")

ok yap sesh over byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee lmfaooooo

[love-marimo]

The Strawhats x Model!Reader (Modern AU)

Lolita's Note: these are really short. just a few (some are platonic and some are romantic) headcanons for the strawhats with a model (gender neutral) reader! a bit of suggestive stuff (mostly crack) on sanji, zoro and brook's. enjoy ♡

cw: mentions of smoking and drinking.

Franky

he's going to be SUUUUUPER supportive about your career.

i imagine him to be a mechanic/engineer in the modern au so your pairing is definitely unconventional

will develop an app that detects nearby castings when you're on the go.

and if he can sit somewhere in the audience during one of your shows, he's gonna put up a sign that says something like "I LOVE YOU MY SUPER HOT PARTNER"

will might get kicked out for obnoxiously cheering for you.

Usopp

he'll definitely think you're cool and will brag about you a lot to his peers.

so much so that he'll make up lies like you're also secretly the designer, or you're the highest paid model (even if you aren't).

he gets so mesmerized when he sees you walk in those pretty clothes and he will definitely take photos of you.

like a lot

will run a secret fan account that you will never find out and he'll brag about you lots on there.

Robin

this woman has connections. a LOT of it. she's the most likely out of all the strawhats to sit front row because of how many people she knows and she's affiliated with.

you both follow each other on instagram and people love to see what you two post. you're definitely a power couple, both online and offline.

your stories and feed will scream quiet luxury and glamour, and everyone is here for it.

she'll help you grow in your career and you might even rise to the top because of her.

she's like your manager and she'll do it for free just because she loves you so much.

Nami

you will be models together. period. no questions asked.

absolutely goes crazy during fashion week. she'll plan all your outfits a year ahead and she's very good at predicting trendy pieces in every. season.

will go with you to every casting and will not settle if the directors don't hire the both of you.

like robin, your online presence will scream power couple.

but the difference is you'll post a variety of things online.

one moment there's the baddest, coolest, and most amazing runway photos of you both and the next there is a video of you having the worst jet lag ever.

Jinbe (if he was human)

need a bouncer? say no more. he's got you covered.

this man will immediately know if there are sketchy people who pretend to do castings.

so you will go to him for advice about it especially when you're just starting out.

if you have an international gig, he'll pack you a lot of essentials (toiletries, medicine, staple clothes, you name it) and he'll be your personal body guard until you reach the airport.

make sure to send him photos, he'll definitely collect those and all the magazines that has you in it.

Luffy

do not bring him to an hour long fashion show, or his restless ass won't take it.

that said, he's also going to be very supportive even if he doesn't understand and relate to your kind of work.

he's the type to wait for your turn and then leave once he knows you're not gonna show up anymore.

will go 0o0 every time he sees you in designer clothing. and he will ask for a photo before you set out to stage.

he's so oblivious that there was one time where he innocently and confidently asked the designer themselves to take a photo of you.

you were definitely scared of being reprimanded and black listed.

luckily his child like charm lets the both of you get away with it.

Chopper (if he was human)

poor baby, he's going to be so confused.

he has no idea how the modeling industry works but he tries his best!!

will get lost in thought, admiring all the models (especially you) who wear the most unbelievable and extraordinary (to his eyes) pieces he's ever seen.

he's that little brother who claps and goes starry-eyed even if he doesn't know what's going on.

in his head he's like "cool cool cool cool!!!"

if he catches you smoking backstage he gets angry, and the other models will find that cute.

the thing is though, he's so well versed in medicine that he convinces all of you to stop smoking.

Sanji

oh boy.

this man is even worse than franky

he's not gonna scream or whistle or do loud things in a regular show (rtw or haute couture)

but! BUT

do not invite him to a bikini show like the VS Angels.

this man will get a sensory overload and will collapse.

also runs a fan account about you and is SHAMELESS about it.

he will post the most out of pocket captions that you have to take his phone away for a week.

Zoro

this man is so fine that underwear and fitness companies want to hire him.

he is not interested. he'd rather see you model for a bikini calendar (which he'll definitely buy)

will also be your personal bodyguard. and he'll be secretly happy about it.

prefers to watch you model for photoshoots than walk the runway. he doesn't like waiting and he wants to focus on only you.

will be your personal errand boy and will take you out drinking after shows.

Brook (if he was still alive as a human)

this old man will either be the sound engineer, or the performer in one of your shows.

do not also take him to bikini shows or he will go around backstage reveling in all the panties he sees.

otherwise, he's pretty chill. he will socialize with other guests and talk about how pretty all the clothes are.

will also go to fashion week with you and get the attention of a lot of street photographers.

ー Lolita

[noneorother]

I bought Aziraphale's Bible so you don't have to.

Am I insane? Yes. Was it worth it? Maybe. In most* of both season 1 and season 2 of GO, there's a very specific Bible on a bookstand next to Aziraphale's desk. It's a vintage illustrated plate book by Harold Copping, known as the Harold Copping Bible, published by the religious tract society in London in 1910. It features some of the most well known Old Testament stories, summarized and annotated by the Bishop of Durham at the time, and illustrated by Copping, who was freshly returned from a sojourn in the middle east. Ironically, It was meant as a lay-person's version of a comic book, short, exciting by use of exotic illustrations, and easy to read.

But my (expensive) gain is now your gain! As I've collected here every visible page in both seasons for your reading and viewing pleasure.

Season 1: All episodes Adam & Eve Genesis iii (1:3) / HCB page 10

Season 2: Episode 1 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28

S2E1 14:21, S2E1 17:41, S2E1 39:45

Season 2: Episode 2 Jacob's vow Genesis xxviii (1:28) / HCB Page 22

S2E2 5:49

Season 2: Episode 2 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28

S2E2 13:38 (see S2E1 above)

Season 2: Episode 2 The Brazen Serpent Numbers xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36

S2E2 16:12, 43:40

Season 2: Episode 2* Bible on the desk, Magazine on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)

S2E2 22:10

The French L'art pour tous industrial design periodical will have to be a story for another post. For now, just enjoy this 1880 edition copperplate of cherubs discovering a microscope...

Season 2: Episode 2 Imaginary page from HCB, Job KJV Job (18:1) / HCB N/A

S2E2 22:29, S2E2 40:05 Obviously, the plate illustrations and text look different here than in the real bible, because they were created for the show. But there are a few more particularities here. For one, this layout with the thin grid around the text, as well as the paragraph symbol next to the first title, indicate that this would have been a printer's proof copy, not a finished book. It shows you the layout grid and can be annotated for changes. Second, there seems to be a war going on between fonts. Where the "chapter" of Job begins, we get a font and a style similar to the original bible, which gets rudely interrupted by a dropped capital (from the real book) and a Gothic-style font/verse numbers like in the original King James version of the printed Bible.

Season 2: Episode 3 The Brazen Serpent NUMBERS xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36

S2E3 1:18 (see episode 2)

Season 2: Episode 5 By the Rivers of Babylon Pslam cxxxvii (19:137) / HCB page 52

S2E5 21:20

Season 2: Episode 6 Bible missing, L'art pour Tous on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)

S2E6 10:21, 17:21, 18:15, 34:28 (see episode 2)

Season 2: Episode 6 Closed HCB, L'art pour Tous on the stand behind HCB page 0

S2E6 37:58, 44:20, 48:08

[bumblehoneybee]

Post-Nuclear - Chapter One

Inspired by Counting Stars Amongst Weeds by @/wearywheats

Contains Sonic 3 spoilers, so read with caution

"S’just a woodpecker." You motion to the trunk above, not that Kermit really hears you. He braces on the tree, barking at the bird and jumping like he'll be able to reach it up on the tall pine branches. It hammers on, though, unfazed by the threats on its life. Seems it's used to dumb dogs with big ideas.

With a roll of your eyes, you raise the camera back up. The woodpecker pauses in its search for food to spit out the bits of wood collected in its beak. You take the chance to snap a few shots of it, hoping the sight of its tongue sticking out is caught on film. The papers and ecological sites tend to like the funnier images.

Kermit, seeing as his enemy is too far out of reach, scampers to your side instead. He braces on your leg as you fiddle with the aperture settings on your camera, whining for you to help him. However, you are not as young as he would prefer, and think better of throwing him into the tree like one would a football.

Seeing your cousin do that and then having to drive them both to get medical attention killed any sliver of consideration you could have towards the idea.

Instead, you grab a stick, slap it around at his feet, and once the dog is too overwhelmed by what's happening, throw it off into the trees. Kermit sprints after it, the sound of his feet in the brush all you need to be assured he's still nearby.

You gaze up at the trees again, finding the woodpecker turned around now, staring down at you. It's head cocks this way and that, trying to get a good look at what's causing a ruckus down below. You raise your camera again, smiling when the bird jumps at the sound of the shutter.

With a squawk of a noise, it takes flight, noisily flapping its wings so it can rise above the treeline. Before you can attempt to follow, however, something. . . happens.

You notice the light first, the sudden brightness to the sky when it should be darker. Late afternoon during this time of year means a steady setting of the sun, yet suddenly the world brightens around you, like an overexposed photo.

It's hard to see through the brambles and leaves, but high above there's a golden light burning through the canopy. You rush forward, towards your home where there's a clearing of trees, whistling for Kermit to follow. The little greyhound nips at your toes, shining bright as a star in the strange lighting, and seems unafraid of whatever phenomenon has plagued the forest.

When the trees part for clear skies, you spot it. A ball of flames scorches through the sea of blue, spiraling downwards. It cuts away at the tips of the trees, but you can tell when it hits Earth by the trembling of the ground. You stumble, knees scraping the dirt, while Kermit clumsily rolls past you.

Wow. A meteor. A falling star landed in the forest, near your home, and now you can see the smoke billowing up into the air. It's not that far away, not really, and whatever landed. . .

You bite your lip.

A meteor crater can't be safe, but then again, who wouldn't love a photo of burning meteorite still hot from its descent? You could make a decent income on some photos of that.

Without any more thought, you toss Kermit back into the house and sprint towards the smoke column, eager to make it there before anyone else can ruin the natural state of the impact zone.

A breathless laugh escapes you as you hurdle fallen stumps and small streams. Fallen leaves slick with mud send you windmilling over inclines, but you keep pace, too excited to care about mud-stained jeans and scratched up palms. You've never seen a meteorite period, much less one in its natural state. This will be thrilling, and maybe if you're very, very lucky, it'll change your life for the better.

After all, while being freelance is fun, being signed on to a nature magazine or a newspaper would make your salary not only steadier but higher too! You and Kermit could maybe even move somewhere closer to town, where the people are! Make friends and not feel like the weirdo living out on the town limits who people only see once a week, if even.

Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. After all, most folks who want wedding or birthday photoshoots call you. Still, a steady job would be a dream come true, and this meteorite could be your ticket to it.

Your shoes scuff tracks into the dirt. You wobble, nearly falling into the pit of seared earth. The grass is still smoldering, trees fluttering with burning leaves. Luckily, none of it seems like it’ll spread far, what with the wet week you’ve been having. So with that assured, you turn back to the crater, wafting away smoke.

There’s something black in the center. You catch glimpses of red too. Your heart flutters with excitement that the meteorite might still be rife with molten lava, so you quickly pull out your camera, fiddling with the exposure and such before you start snapping as fast as you can.

You take photos of the crater still filled with smoke, the burning trees, the smoky trail still burned into the sky. And finally, with your heart in your throat and enough of the smoke cleared, you approach the center of the crater.

It’s a long drop, the impact hard enough to reach a rocky layer of the Earth’s crust. You ease yourself down into the pit, wafting away the wisps of smoke that curl around your face. When the ground levels out, you ease yourself forward, a hand held out to detect anything that might be still too-hot to get close to.

You don't feel anything, even as you make it to the center of the crater. There's still a small column of smoke clinging to the meteorite. You try to waft it away too, but don't manage much. So instead, you kneel down, surprised to find that the cause of all this damage is something so small.

Your hands land on your camera, ready to get some lovely close-ups of molten space rock. You blow into the smoke, watching it curl and disperse enough to show you your prize.

Except. . . instead of rock. . . there's a hand.

You stare at it, and yeah. . . it's a hand, clasped in a white glove singed black, missing sections to reveal blistered skin. It's connected to a similarly burned arm, black fur and red stripping and even more patchy spots with burns.

Something constricts around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your head spins, but you don't think too hard about crawling closer and grabbing the arm, fingers curling over the wrist.

It's there, a faint pulse. The soft thumps under your fingers makes everything sharpen. You stare into the clumped fur, too afraid to look farther than the elbow.

But your eyes betray you, flickering upwards to a face, slacken and covered in blood.

A fear unlike you've ever known ices your veins. You're panicking, hands fluttering now, parting fur to find more cuts, more bruises, and more burns, some worse than others. You want to turn his head, try and find where all the blood is coming from, but the quills that spike out from the back of his head make you nervous.

You're nervous. You're scared. But there's a guy-animal-thing here lying in a crater and bleeding out onto the earth, so you gotta do. . . something! And that something can be figured out when you're closer to home.

At least he's unconscious, because you certainly have no grace hauling him into your arms. He's warm to the touch, but not so hot as to hurt you. No doubt his burns are more serious than something your aloe plant can help, so there's research to be done there.

You stumble, struggling to claw your way up the crater's incline with a body half-strewn over your shoulder. There's puffs of air against your neck, hitching with each wobble of your footing. Your fingers are going to be raw from digging into the dirt and rocks, but god is your head too buzzed to care.

Kermit is understandably in a frenzy when you return with a guy in your arms. He does spins and circles around you, eager to play with the new person or new toy, whichever you chose to bring him. You stomp your feet and shuffle them at the hound so he runs away, though, expecting a game of chase. Instead of chase, however, you escape to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

He can cry about it for now. You can soothe his hurt feelings when there's not a guy dying on you.

The tub fills with water, and you set your new guest down on the toilet for the time being. Your camera sits on the sink, and your phone sits in your hand, pages of how to identify and care for burns trying to teach you how to save something you never knew existed.

You make sure the tub isn't too warm per the instructions of a hospital, then lower the guy down into it. You keep his head propped on the tub's edge, dunking one of your wash cloths into the water to use on his face.

Dried blood and ash clears with each pass, showing you the wound that's causing most of the mess. The gash cuts through his temple, curling up around the pointed ear on his head. You clean the debris from it best you can, and wonder if any of your first aid supplies will help bandage such a wound.

Before that, however, you pull your guest from his bath. The water is a dark grey from the ash and dirt, so you drain it quick, using the shower head to do a clean of the tub before refilling it.

You focus on the quills next, carefully pouring water over his head with the cup you usually keep your toothbrush in. You watch the debris wash out into the tub with disdain. Gross. You'll need to drain it again when you start focusing on his burns.

The article on your phone mentions cold water, bandages, and pain meds (the latter of which you have no expectations for). You have that stuff on you, but the cream they recommend, silver sulfadiazine, you don't have. Looks like he's going to have to put up with your aloe plant for now.

Satisfied that he's clean enough, you pull him from the tub and pat dry his fur and quills until he's dry enough for the couch. With Kermit screaming in your bedroom, demanding to play with the new guest, you drag over your big aloe plant, walking the heavy pot to the side of the couch before you grab your first aid kit from the kitchen.

You sit on the floor before the couch, staring at the hands and legs sporting the most serious burns, blistered and shiny. You don't know what you're doing. Your worst burn has been sunburn, and anything else is lost to the panic haze and childhood daze that covers those older memories. But you know aloe helps, and bandages are needed, so you can go from there.

"Aha," you laugh, sticky hands smacking for the remote, "I'm gonna have a dead body in my house, ha."

The TV blares to life, thankfully distracting you from your lack of confidence in your medical experience. A newscaster drones on about the upcoming weather, expecting rainy days and pollen counts, while you're smearing blisters in aloe and wrapping them in gauze, near tears with each twitch of foot and hiss of air.

"In other news, more information regarding the Eclipse Canon and the state of the moon has been released by officials, showing insight to the future that awaits us."

You pause, an arm held up by the glove you have half off. The TV shows a space station, like something from a movie, alongside a picture of a half-destroyed moon. A nausea grips at your stomach.

When did the moon explode? How did it explode?

You really need to start watching the news more often.

"Sources say that the explosion of the Eclipse Canon has caused a nebula to form within the Milky Way, close enough to Earth for us to see with the naked eye." You balk, but the stern-faced newscaster continues without fail, uncaring of your misery. "Monitoring of the nebula has shown its in a stable state, with no supernovas to occur for hundreds of years. As for the moon, it's new state thanks to the Eclipse Canon, activated by one Dr. Eggman-"

"He shot the fucking moon!?" You exclaim, only to jump with the arm drops to the couch, glove fully removed. "Ah! Shit!"

"-expected for tides to shift, due to the change in the satellite's new mass. Small pieces of debris from the moon are expected to fall to Earth as well, so if you are a part of these areas, be sure to fortify and ready for cover in case of your home is in the collision course."

You groan, flopping onto your back. You could've had a piece of the moon hit nearby, but no. You got a guy, probably an alien guy, instead.

Looks like you're going to be doing some internet searching tonight. Time to catch up with the current events, since apparently missing a few days of the news to watch game shows instead means missing the fact the moon got blown up while you weren't looking.

Rubbing your hands over your face, you sigh heavily. The past hour or so plays over in your head, settling into your bones like a heavy weight. There's an alien in your home now, more or less. An alien, hurt and alone, now residing on your couch.

You hit the floor with your first. What are you going to do? Calling the police would end up with your alien being taken away, and you're scared of that. But you're not sure this guy isn't. . . bad either. He could attack once he wakes up.

God. . . where did you put your laptop? You need to look this shit up.

[toxicanonymity]

raider masterlist

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

new one shot Jan 5, 2025: forest floor.

⚠️ this post hit the link limit, and I haven't decided what to do. I will still try to update the newest fic link above.

moodboard by @milla-frenchy 🖤 a rb will not stay up-to-date.

SUMMARY: He's a bad guy, and you're his good girl. Joel saves you from bad men, but claims you for himself. His persona starts to crack, but he gets even more possessive. You're his world, and he'll do anything to keep you. Emotional slow burn but smut the whole time. WARNINGS: 18+ canon-typical violence, noncon via implicit threat, evolving to enthusiastic dubious consent (stockholm syndrome), depraved use of praise and pet names (sweet pea, baby), unsafe P in V, exhibitionism, extreme possessiveness, dark fluff (🖤), angst, and more. NO USE of Y/N, No physical description of reader.

Spotify: raider, sweet pea (smut) Optional reference: trailer floor plan

Carter masterlist

main story

Note, non-bold links in this section were written out of order and may contain spoilers or references to future events. their placement in this list is based on timeline.

Raider: (Mar 24, 2023) - He "saves" you, then has his way with you but is kinda sweet about it. Joel POV (Oct 3, 1k)

Failed Rescue (Apr 8 - 1.9k) Your bf tries to save you. Joel makes him watch then keeps you.

Stash House (Apr 11 - 850)- Joel takes you to the stash house and shows everyone you're his. Wash Bin 🖤 (Aug 27, 1k) Shooting Practice Drabble(Jul 28, 1.6k)

Failed Escape (Apr 23, 4k)- Joel saves you from FEDRA, bathes you, amd edges you.

J. Miller (May 19, 2k) - Joel labels you with his switchblade and claims all your holes. dark. Can be skipped.

Home (May 29, 1.3k) - Joel makes dinner at home, cleans your chest, and tucks you in. 🖤

Company (Jun 9, 2.2k) - Joel brings home a girl to distract his men. dark. Extra Scene - angst.

Close (Jul 3, 2.7k) - close call with other raiders. You-almost-died sex, and later, tender sex 🖤

Gun Hug (Jul 31, 3.7k) - Joel traps 2 bad guys with some help and kills them while you. . .🖤 If you want him (1.5k) - he holds out to see🖤

Night Air (Aug 30, 3.5k) - Joel is brutal with a bad guy and his POV reveals some feelings. 🖤 Bonus blurb, wakeup pwp drabble

Hunger (Sep 29, 7k) - Joel takes you on a trek, comforts you, kills a guy, and gives you head. 🖤 He's only human (1.1k) - 👱‍♂️Carter POV, overlaps w/ hunger.

Bodies (Dec 3, 7.8k) - Strangers show up and cause a shitstorm, but Joel takes a big step. 🖤 Raider POV

No cliffhangers. Bulletin from Tox

more (drabbles, etc)

🔥 smut

Trying to use him (800) (riding) 🔥

House meeting drabble 🖤

You get sick at night drabble 🖤

He goes down on you (oral f) 🔥

If you touched his scar

if men had hurt you in the past

if you got your period 🖤

magazine and makeup 🖤

yoga pwp drabble piv 1k 🔥

boots drabble (oral f receiving) 🔥

graveyard blurb (spice)

if you bit his arm drabble (p in v) 🔥

If you snapped (emotional spice) 🖤

face sitting on sofa 🔥

being bad, looking good (2.8k, smut) 🔥

Van ride drabble (800) 🖤

sleeping beast (<1k), PWP 🔥

If Joel was sick 🖤

If you were annoying

cutting his hair 🖤

waking up on top 🔥

tired 🖤

waking up on top again 🔥

Sweet pea overhears Joel 🔥

Choking on his dick (600) 🔥

his birthday 🥺

quickie (daddy kink scenario) 🔥

✨Roly poly - comfort 🖤

Note: not all content is linked. Asks can lead to lore, snippets, and previews or hints of future plot points, etc. which are not added here.

Headcanons (not written like fic)

If another man has his way (Q&A)

dacryphilia - evolved update (Q&A)

if you had scars or tattoos (Q&A)

sweet pea by herself

If you sketched Joel and Jack

Apple picking 🖤

Responding to a Nightmare 🖤

accidentally hurting her 🖤

Analysis (#raider!analysis)

why does he keep her

why did he snap (in Company extra scene)

his eye contact

his affection / feelings, trajectory 🖤

falling for sweet pea

his self hate and her feelings

the dog and joel's concern for you

awareness of growth / why keep her

Raider Tommy

Birds of prey (2.6k)

Art, etc.

Mattress by esquire magazine

Stitches by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

collage by @milla-frenchy

lose control edit by @survivingandenduring

🌸 sweet pea mood boards by various

6 month collage by milla-frenchy

6 month cake by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

🌸 sweet pea cosplay from night air

👱‍♂️carter mood board by @romana-after-dark

pts. 1-3 rb mood boards by @iamasaddie

night air gif by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

raider/sweet pea collage by milla

sweet pea's pup by @dark-scape

want it that bad gif by dark-scape

Bodies gif by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

👱‍♂️carter mood board by milla

Then and now drawing by romana-after-dark

Raider/sweet pea drawings by @lumoverheaven

our stars moodboard by milla

raiding edits by gasolinerainbowpuddles

under the anger by iamasaddie

🎥 Trailer (video) by @carminepoison

birthday sketch by lumoverheaven

In love w raider by milla

✨ checks that you're ok 🐺 by milla

If I've left yours off please lmk I prob tagged improperly

Back to Joel Masterlist

Fic recs: other raiders

🖤 If mine or another writer's work has inspired yours, it's always better late than never to share / shout-out 🖤

[2knightt]

may u do the gang with a significant other who is in a popular band or actor? up to four preference of course. lots of love!

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ darling, can i be your favourite? ⋄ 𓍯

REQUESTED: reader’s the coolest person ever and the gang’s their biggest fan!

tags/warnings: headcanons, gn!reader, reader is a singer/popstar!reader, gang is obsessed, reader is big time famous, near the end they got shorter because my tumblr started lagging.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ hey my love !!! seen this after i posted and knew i had to get to work 🙂‍↕️ also while i was working on this, i got a req for actor!reader..ur in luck🤭

—

johnny cade

╰┈➤ now playing. — espresso, y/n l/n

how he bagged you, the world may never know. like seriously.

YOU’RE ON THE BIG SCREEN AND YOU’RE IN THE RADIO AND YOU GO AFTER JOHNNY CADE??? everyone was shocked. lives were CHANGED.

“you’re dating who?”

“..y/n l/n?”

“in your dreams maybe???”

“fuck you?”

nobody believed him because you confessed to him over the phone when you were touring 😔! you realized you really liked johnny when you had to be away from him for so long.

so for like that period of time, it was just call after call of you two giggling back and forth.

the gang, swear to fucking god, knew he was talking to someone but they thought he was lying about who he was talking to

UNTIL YOU CAME BACK!!!!

Then they were all,

“what the fuck….”

“can i like—borrow a 20?”

“DAMN”

spoil him. take him with you. protect johnny cade with ur money or else. i find you.

but seriously, pleaseeee make sure johnny lives the life he deserves ☹️ since you’re a singer, you make a FUCK ton of money

put it to good use (spending it on johnny cade)

hey! you’re all he talks about!! HE DOESN’T STFU THAT HE’S DATING SOMEONE THAT’S FAMOUS.

“what ‘bout you, lil’ boy? you got someone?”

“hell yeah. y/n l/n.😇💯”

“..the singer?”

“damn right, ‘the singer’!”

listens to your music when he misses you!!

OH MU GOD WRITE A SONG ABOUT JOHNNY CADE PLEASEEEE AND WEAR HIS JEAN JACKRT ON STAGE PLEASEEEEEEE

i can’t stress how much he loves you

he has photos of you everywhere. and anywhere.

steals magazines you model for to promote your albums<3

dallas winston

╰┈➤ now playing — nonsense, y/n l/n.

why would you pick him.

shame on you. you have celebrities flocking to you and you pick some guy in tulsa who’s in jail every friday.

tsk tsk. whatever makes you happy!

ANYWAYS

also, never shuts the fuck up about you. like seriously, somehow, you’re always the topic of conversation.

“yeah, that’s crazy that she slashed your tires. my LOVELY Y/N would never tho. did you know they sing? you’ve probably heard of ‘em-“

MAKES YOU WEAR HIS RINGS WHEN YOU PERFORM!!! AND SOMETIMES HIS LEATHER JACKET!!! DALLAS DGAF IF IT’S DIRTY OR NOT

He needs those freaks in the crowd to know you’re HIS—not theirs just because you’re famous.

if you ever collab with a dude he’s gonna fucking lose his mind i’m not kidding

“YOU’RE GOING TO THE STUDIO WITH WHO???”

“i told you-“

“yeah, i know. lets go.”

dallas invited himself btw.

dedicate a song to him and he’s literally gonna make EVERYONE listen to it. when it comes on the radio, he’s IMMEDIATELY turning up the volume.

“looking at you got me thinkin’ nonsense.”

“that’s about me, by the way.”

“WE KNOW.”

“YOU TELL US THIS EVERY DAMN DAY”

“yeah. where’s your partner that write songs about you? huh? take that shit up with someone else.”

IN HIS ROOM HE HAS SOOO MANY POSTERS OF YOUUUUUU

cannot believe he got so lucky and bagged you

he used to pray for days like these😭😭🙏

ponyboy curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — work song, y/n l/n.

yes, i did make your song more poetic than the rest. that’s just what ponyboy is into and gets him crying.

did he get lucky? yeah. does he acknowledge that every waking moment of his life and devotes himself to making sure you never feel the burden of having to perform daily?

yeah

helps you write songs sometimes. ponyboy naturally has a poets soul so USE IT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE

GUVE HIM A FUCKING OEN AND PAPER AND HE’S WRITING A HIT SINGLE

omgomg if you credit him while at your concerts he might faint<3333

spoil him and his brothers.

his brothers are included because you see how much they’re struggling and it literally pains you to see the love of ur life get so frustrated over money

sneakily put money into darry’s wallet when he isn’t looking and ponyboy might just kiss u right then and there

it’ll take awhile for him to accept the help, but when he does—he’s so grateful to have an angel like u in his life😭😭💔💔💔

“i love you. did you know that?”

“of course i do, pony.”

“i should tell you that more often.”

uses a photo of you as a bookmark btw. it’s you in his favourite outfit you ever wore, performing the song you made for him.

ponyboy’s obsessed.

shoves ANYONE off the tv to watch you perform. he doesn’t care. and the gang lets him<3 cuz they know how much you mean to their little pony!!

not without teasing. never without teasing. ponyboy is never fucking free

“soda, it’s my turn on the tv.”

“what? you tryna watch your girlfriend?”

“…shut up.”

“look at you! what a loverboy, huh? you loveeeee her, don’t you?”

“man, just get off the tv!”

watches & listens to everything you’re in. wether it be interviews, music videos, etc—he can probably quote it. every part.

he’s so obsessed with you it’s not fucking funny

sodapop curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — that boy is mine, y/n l/n.

it couple. genuinely.

you got soda more publicity and modeling agencies have definitely hit him up LMFAO

he most definitely has modelled with you for covers :3c

BUT OTHER THAN THAT

oh u better fucking believe that the DX is always playing your music

SODA DOESNT CARE IF HE’S NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE RADIO

he will. and he will be playing the song you made about him to remind the girls that go to flirt with him that he’s yours.

HE HAS A NECKLACE WITH YOUR INITAL ON IT AND YOU HAVE A NECKLACE WITH HIS INITAL!!1!1!1!1!1

flash it when paparazzi takes photos and he WILL put that photo in his wallet to show people when they ask about his partner.

CANT STFU EVEN IF HE FUCKING TRIED

soda makes u his whole personality

“sigh😔 y/n would’ve loved this beat..”

“SHUT UP ABOUT Y/N😒”

“NO?? I LOVE THEM!!!???”

LOVES PRACTICING UR CHOREOGRAPHY WITH YOU LMFAOOO

it’s so cute☹️☹️😔😔 soda might trip over his feet every once and awhile but he’s always laughing so hard with you when he does<3

darry curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — say yes to heaven, y/n l/n.

tries SOOOO hard to act like he doesn’t gaf that you’re singer but it’s so tough to not brag about it

the boys at work could be talking about their partners but when they go ask darry, he hides his grin and blush by looking down, running his hands through his hair.

“what ‘boutchu, kid? how’s the lover?”

“ah, y’know. they’re busy touring or in the studio.”

“eh?”

“oh—y/n l/n. they’re-“

darry cannot be stopped now. he won’t shut up about how great of a person you are, never letting the fame get to you.

ERAHHH HE STAYS UP LATE AT NIGHT TO WATCH YOUR PERFORMANCES WHEN YOU’RE AWAY!!!!!!! HE LOVES WATCHING YOU SWAY ACROSS THE STAGE!!

hehehehehe slow dance with him in the kitchen to ur unreleased songs you made about him…. 😈😈

PLEAEE HELP HIM FINANCIALLY PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

im begging you to just sit darry curtis down and try to convince him that, you giving him money to help around, isn’t an issue.

i don’t see darry moving out of the curtis house unfortunately, i think he will always view it as his parents house and it’s too sentimental.

so, don’t even bother asking him to move. but—do give him money. or sneakily pay the bills. whatever you have to do to help darry relax, please do it!!!

loves it when you sing slower/more relaxing songs

darry thinks it’s so attractive to hear your like soothing, breathy, and smooth voice.

he has a photo framed of you bowing toward the crowd below you, tightly holding the microphone that you had his name engraved in.

it’s currently beside his bed on his nightstand.

he looks at it every night before bed and every morning before work. <3

steve randle

╰┈➤ now playing — art deco, y/n l/n.

he’s feral. he’s fucking crazy about you.

“PUT ON THAT NEW Y/N SHIT‼️”

“why??”

“CAUSE I SAID SO?!1”

number one supporter. nobody comes close to him

AHHHH HE HAS A TATTOO DEDICATED TO YOU!!!! IT’S DEFINITELY A SONG LYRIC YOU WROTE ABOUT HIM IN UR HAND WRITING

when steve’s nervous he traces over it :3c

steve always finds himself, unconsciously, humming your songs while he works on cars!

i like to think his favourite colour is blue, so plsplsplspls wear blue (even if it’s a small accessory) to your concerts just so steve knows you’re always thinking about him.

he keeps little gifts, or rather the accessories you leave at his house, in a little box. he thinks they’re so cute and he will burn a building down before he lets anyone find out

two-bit mathews

╰┈➤ now playing — melting, y/n l/n.

“DID YOU KNOW I’M DATING Y/N? THE FAMOUS SINGER? YEAH, BET YOU WISH THAT WAS YOU😭😂!”

that’s every other sentence from his stupid lips!!

KNOWS EVERY LYRIC TO YOUR SONGS AND WILL SCREAM HIS FUCKING LUNGS OUT TO THEM!!!

attach a mickey charm to ur mic while you sing on stage and he’ll start foaming at the mouth..

two-bit’s all, “that’s for me.:mickey….me….me…mickey….”

he literally begs you to sing him to sleep

STEALS YOUR RECORDS/VINYLS???!!! HE HANGS THEM UP ON HIS WALL WITH SUCH CARE IT’S SO ADORABLE ☹️☹️

teach his little sister some of your dance moves and he might marry you tbh.

two-bit dreams of you and i’m so fucking serious

[doritochoi]

Ex-Husband Encounter | C.S

pairing: fem!reader x ex-husband!san

genre: smut

warning: public sex, unprotected sex, sexual tension, blowjob, hard fuck, eating cum? ( kinda idk)

word count: 3,7k

tags: @roguehongsami ( you can message me if you want to me tagged in my post!)

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk into his office and see the shocking scene before you. "S-san?" you manage to stutter, feeling a sharp pain shoot through your chest. Your husband, with whom you dreamed of spending the rest of your life in happiness, is sitting on a chair, and one of his employees is sitting on his lap, kissing him with a passion that takes your breath away. You are destroyed. You just wanted to be a good wife, bring him lunch like every day, and now you feel like everything is falling apart around you. Your lunch tray dropped on the floor, the plates are broken into a thousand pieces, the crumbs are scattered on the floor, but to you it is only a mute decoration in front of your pain. Inside, a storm of feelings floods your mind and soul - sadness, anger, helplessness. You can't take your eyes off them, the image that tears your heart to pieces. You feel betrayed, abandoned, and at the same time you are tormented by questions that hurt more than anything else. Why? How could you not see? You try to keep your composure, not to collapse in front of them, but you feel tears fill your eyes and your voice is choked with pain. You immediately walk out the door, heartbroken, getting into the car not caring if he calls you. You need distance, space, time to collect your thoughts and understand what you are going to do. You're too hurt to go back, too confused to listen to excuses or explanations. All you want now is to run away from the unbearable pain.

You arrived home sad and angry. Even if you didn't want to do that, you couldn't stay with San anymore. You wanted to wait for him to come home, to discuss, to solve what happened, but your mind stopped thinking. So you went to your shared bedroom. When you got there, you sat on the bed and started to cry, not knowing what to do. The tears flowed even more, making your eyes red and swollen. Looking up, you saw on a small table next to the bed a picture of you and San from the wedding. Looking at the photo, you felt memories begin to flood your mind. The moment was captured into your memory, and every detail came alive again in front of your eyes. You saw San's smile again, the tenderness in his gestures, and you went back in time, reliving the moments of happiness you spent together. The picture was one of your favorites, San holding you by your tiny waist, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek. While you stared at the photo, a surge of rage and betrayal washed over you. In a fit of anger, you grabbed it and threw it to the ground, listening to the sound of it shattering into pieces. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the broken fragments, feeling a bitter satisfaction in the act. It was a release, a way to express the pain and anger consuming you. You packed your bags, not caring whether San would see all your belongings gathered when he came. You blocked him everywhere so he couldn't find you, and you left, tears streaming down your face as you looked back at the house where you two had shared happy moments.

It has been four years since that incident, and you haven't heard from San since. In truth, you hear about him almost every day, as he is now the richest man around with countless business ventures. He's everywhere, but you’ve tried to ignore everything that happened to avoid feeling lonely. Your best friend, Nayeon, has been a rock, helping you get through it all. She has always been by your side, and with her support, you have become a fairly popular model after a long period of healing and rebuilding your life. You’ve graced the covers of several fashion magazines, walked on runways in major fashion capitals like Paris and Milan, and built a strong social media presence. Your style is admired, your confidence radiates through every photoshoot, and your fanbase grows daily. Today was an important day. You were walking the runway in Sardinia, Italy for the Dolce & Gabbana fashion show. It was a beautiful, long-awaited dream come true. Nayeon was there beside you, helping you into your dress. It was a stunning black gown with a daring cutout at the back, accentuating your figure perfectly. The dress was exquisite, made of the finest silk that flowed gracefully with every movement. The cutout at the back revealed just enough skin to be alluring without being too revealing, perfectly balancing between chic and sensual. As Nayeon adjusted the final touches, she smiled at you, her eyes filled with pride and excitement. "You look breathtaking," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. You turned to look at her, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. "I couldn't have done any of this without you, Nayeon. Thank you for always being there.", she squeezed your hand gently. "That's what best friends are for. Now go out there and show them what you're made of."

As you stepped onto the runway, the lights blazed down, illuminating the room and the captivated audience. The black gown flowed elegantly with every step you took, the back cutout adding a touch of allure that drew gasps of admiration from the crowd. While you walked, a figure in the audience caught your eye. Instantly, the smile on your face vanished as you saw your ex-husband San in the crowd. He wore an exceptional white suit, making him easy to recognize, almost glowing amidst the sea of spectators. His hair was perfectly styled, and his piercing gaze, those fox-like eyes, made you freeze. He looked directly at you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You tried to maintain your composure, reminding yourself to focus on the walk. Every step felt heavier, the weight of his presence pressing down on you. "Keep it together," you whispered to yourself. "Just a few more steps." San's gaze never wavered, his expression unreadable, and it took all your strength to pretend you hadn't noticed him. You felt a swirl of emotions—anger, hurt, confusion—threatening to break through your composed exterior. But this was your moment, and you were determined not to let his presence overshadow it.

Finally reaching the end of the runway, you posed, turning with practiced grace, and began your walk back. You kept your chin up, eyes forward, channeling every ounce of professionalism. Nayeon's encouraging smile flashed in your mind, giving you the final push you needed to finish the show with the same elegance and confidence with which you had started. Backstage, as the applause echoed from the runway, you took a deep breath, your heart still racing from the unexpected encounter. Nayeon rushed to your side, sensing something was off. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern etched in her features. "I... I saw San," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? Where?" "In the audience," you said, glancing back towards the runway. "He was watching me the whole time." You tried to discreetly wipe away your tears, not wanting everyone to see you cry. After a while, when everything had finally wrapped up, you and the team started preparing for the after-party to celebrate the successful show. Your mind wasn't fully present; you were acutely aware that San would be there. You all headed to the most luxurious and opulent restaurant nearby, a sight of pure elegance and sophistication. The exterior was adorned with intricate architecture, lit by soft, ambient lighting that gave it a warm, inviting glow. As you stepped inside, a gracious hostess greeted you, leading your group to a large, round table elegantly set for the occasion. The table was adorned with elegant place settings, sparkling crystal glasses, and a centerpiece of fresh flowers that added a touch of natural beauty to the luxurious setting. Despite the stunning surroundings, your thoughts remained clouded. You tried to engage in the celebration, but the anticipation of seeing San again kept you on edge. The laughter and conversations of your colleagues seemed distant, almost as if they were happening in another world. You noticed that right next to you was the only empty seat at the table, and your eyes were immediately drawn to a prominent name card that read "Choi San". Your heart skipped a beat, realizing the possibility of sitting right next to him. Taking a deep breath, a mix of anticipation washed over you. Was it mere coincidence or a subtle intention from the hosts? As you carefully placed your clutch on the seat, you felt the curious glances from other guests intensify, adding to the pressure of the moment. You took another deep breath, the air thick with anticipation, and when you opened your eyes, there it was—a hand you recognized instantly by its touch, its grip, adorned with rings that spoke of refinement. San had just settled into the seat next to you. He exuded an intoxicating scent, and as he leaned in slightly, you noticed the impeccable tailoring of his suit, revealing a hint of his well-toned chest underneath. "Apologies for being late," he murmured with a respectful nod, his smile bringing back every memory you had of him.

Throughout the dinner, tension built between you and San. You felt his gaze on you constantly, and every accidental touch sent a shiver down your spine. It became overwhelming, and you knew you needed a moment to collect yourself. "Excuse me," you said, standing abruptly. All eyes turned to you as you walked away from the table, your cheeks burning. You hurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind you and taking a deep breath. You splashed water on your face, trying to calm your racing heart. After a few moments, you felt composed enough to return to the table. Just as you opened the door, you walked straight into a solid chest. You looked up, knowing instantly who it was. San. You froze, your eyes meeting his stunning gaze. You wanted to move, to walk away, but his hand caught yours, pulling you back. "San, I need to go," you whispered, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he gently pushed you against the wall, his body close to yours, creating an electrifying closeness. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice low and filled with need. His eyes burned into yours, and you felt the tension between you. Your breath hitched as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. His hand moved to your waist, holding you firmly in place. You could feel the heat radiating from him, making your pulse quicken. Your gaze remains fixed downward, avoiding his mesmerizing eyes, But San cups your chin with his hand, gently lifting your face to meet his intense stare. "What do you want?" you ask, your voice trembling. His eyes burn into yours, filled with a mix of desire and determination. As you try to pull away, his grip tightens, holding you in place. "Stop struggling. I'm not letting you go," he says, his voice low and husky, filled with a dangerous edge that sends a shiver down your spine. "What do you want from me?" you ask, your voice a whisper, laden with both fear and excitement.

Without another word, San pushes you back into the bathroom, the door closing with a decisive click behind you. Your back hits the cool tile wall, the contrast with his heated body making you gasp. His hands are on you again, sliding down your arms, gripping your waist, pressing you firmly against the wall. "I want you," he growls, his voice rough with need. "Every inch of you." San's lips crash against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. He kisses you fiercely, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roam your body. His touch is demanding, possessive, and it ignites a fire inside you that you've tried to suppress for so long. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, leaving visible marks. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your dress. "God, I've missed these," he growls, his voice thick with desire. You can feel his cock pressing against you, hard and insistent. He pulls the dress down, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His mouth descends, sucking on your nipple while his hand kneads the other, making you moan with pleasure. "San," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devours you. "Don't stop." He bites down gently on your nipple, making you cry out. "I won't," he promises, his voice a low growl. He switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak before sucking it into his mouth. His free hand moves down, lifting your dress higher until it's bunched around your waist. He slips his fingers under your panties, finding you wet and ready for him. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he groans, sliding a finger inside you and making you arch against him. "Please," you beg, needing more. San grins against your skin, adding another finger and thrusting them in and out of you. His thumb circles your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "You like that, baby?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Yes," you moan, your hips moving against his hand. "More, San, please." He withdraws his fingers, leaving you aching and desperate for him. He grabs your hips, lifting you up and pressing you against the wall. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice rough with need.

You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance. He pushes inside you in one hard thrust, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, clutching at his shoulders as he begins to move. San fucks you with a desperate intensity, each thrust harder than the last. His hands grip your ass, pulling you closer as he drives into you. "God, you feel so good," he groans, his pace relentless. You can barely breathe, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. "San, I'm gonna—" , "Come for me," he demands, his voice harsh and urgent. The words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that leaves you trembling. San follows moments later, his release spilling inside you as he groans your name.

For a moment, the world stops, the only sound your ragged breaths mingling together. San lowers you back to the ground, his arms still wrapped around you as you both come down from the high. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are filled with a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper. "This isn't over," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I meant what I said. I want you. Every inch of you." You nod, your heart still racing. "We'll see," you whisper, knowing that despite everything, a part of you wants him just as much. San’s eyes darken with a renewed hunger, and he gives you a wicked grin. “On your knees, now,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine as you drop to your knees in front of him. His erection is right in front of your face, and you can see the desire in his eyes as he looks down at you. You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, feeling its heat and hardness. You begin by kissing the tip, your tongue darting out to taste him. San inhales sharply, his hands tangling in your hair as you take him into your mouth. “Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, his grip tightening as you start to move. You take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in tandem to pleasure him. You hollow your cheeks, creating a suction that makes him curse under his breath. Your other hand moves to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you bob your head up and down his length. San’s breathing becomes ragged, his hips thrusting slightly as he struggles to control himself. “You’re so good at this,” he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. You look up at him through your lashes, meeting his intense gaze as you take him even deeper, pushing yourself to your limits. The sounds he makes, the way he tenses under your touch, spur you on. You increase your pace, taking him in as far as you can before pulling back and swirling your tongue around the head. “Just like that,” he moans, his eyes closing briefly as he loses himself in the sensation. You can feel him getting closer, his body tensing, his grip on your hair almost painful. With one last, deep thrust, he comes, his release filling your mouth. You swallow it all, not letting a drop escape, your eyes locked on his as he rides out his orgasm. When he finally opens his eyes, there’s a look of deep satisfaction mixed with something more. He pulls you up to your feet, kissing you hard, tasting himself on your lips. “Love, I missed you,” he whispers against your mouth, his hands still holding you close. You can’t deny the electric connection between you, the intense chemistry that still burns so bright. “I missed you too,”.

You both quickly dress, but as you look at your reflection in the mirror, you realize just how disheveled you are. Your hair is a mess, your clothes are wrinkled, and your makeup is smudged. San doesn't look much better; his suit is rumpled, and his hair is tousled in a way that screams what you've just done. As you step out of the bathroom, the hallway feels like it's a mile long. Just as you turn the corner, you run straight into Nayeon. Her eyes widen as she takes in your appearance, then flicks over to San. The realization dawns on her face, and she crosses her arms, looking between the two of you with an incredulous expression. “Really? Here? Now?” Nayeon exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. You blush furiously, trying to smooth down your dress. “It just… happened,” you mumble, avoiding her piercing gaze. San, trying to regain his composure, clears his throat. “Nayeon, it’s not what it looks like,” he starts, but Nayeon cuts him off with a sharp look. “Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing at San before turning back to you. “And you? After everything, you just let this happen?” You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “It’s complicated, Nayeon. We were just talking and then…” Nayeon throws her hands up in the air, clearly frustrated. “Talking? Really? Because it sure doesn’t look like you two were just talking.” San steps forward, his expression earnest. “Look, I know it looks bad, but this is between me and her. We need to figure this out ourselves.” Nayeon’s eyes soften slightly, but she still looks skeptical. “Fine. But you,” she points at you, “better think long and hard about what you’re doing. And you,” she turns to San, “don’t you dare hurt her again.” San nods solemnly. “I won’t,” he promises, his voice firm. Nayeon shakes her head, sighing deeply. “I hope not, for both your sakes.” She turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there with San, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. You know Nayeon is right; there are a lot of things to consider, and this isn’t something that can be resolved easily. San looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and determination. “We’ll figure this out,” he says softly. You nod, but inside, you’re not so sure. There’s a lot to unpack, a lot to discuss, and it’s going to take time. But for now, all you can do is take it one step at a time.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Brigitte Bardot (Contempt, And God Created Woman)—unbelievable charisma off the charts, post-war France could barely handle her because she just radiates sexuality in the deepest, hottest way. i've never seen a woman who fit so clearly in my head the "beautiful woman" category. also i'm including her little suit number because why not [pic below]

Vanessa Redgrave (Camelot)—Partially submitted as justice for her father, and you should all know her birth was announced to a theatre audience by Laurence Olivier. But for herself, she is a wild untameable beauty who was in some of the best avant garde cinema of the period.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Brigitte Bardot:

"Los Angeles Times in 2011 ranked her as the second most beautiful woman in film, she won a David di Donatello award and was nominated for a BAFTA. Literally nicknamed a sex kitten, she used her fame to promote animal rights. And God Created Woman was so scandalous to US audiences that some theater managers were arrested for screening it"

"She was a sex symbol and her style is influential even today"

"She's just so iconic! Wikipedia extracts because why not : "In 2011, Los Angeles Times Magazine's list of "50 Most Beautiful Women in Film" ranked her number two" "The Guardian named Bardot "one of the most iconic faces, models, and actors of the 1950s and 1960s" "According to the liner notes of his first (self-titled) album, musician Bob Dylan dedicated the first song he ever wrote to Bardot. " I mean of course she is iconic in France, but she inspired many women outside of France"

"She wasn't just a sex symbol because men found her attractive and then that imagine of her was further promoted. But she was actually one of (if not) the first women to stand for emancipated women in a sexual way in a time when women were considered to mainly exist to please their man. She was famous for portraying women who lived their sexuality for their own pleasure and knew what they wanted. Very important! And also what's hotter than a woman driving men wild because they don't even know how to handle a woman with her own ideas and needs lol"

Vanessa Redgrave propaganda: