hey gay people! it's my sacred duty to write increasingly niche fanfic about messy women at a devastatingly slow pace! so, here's that! the cats that walk alone - the women (1939), crystal allen/sylvia fowler
Absently, instead of paying attention to the boring old vows, she wonders if it’s still considered slumming if the girl has gone and married rich. - or, an exploration of how Sylvia Fowler went from interrogating Crystal and storming away to washing Crystal’s back in a bathtub, told through a small collection of scenes
#my post#my writing#it feels genuinely comical to tag this by like fandom and stuff because i mean one i dont really care#but two. who on earth is out here searching for the women through tumblr tags. not only is in 1939 but like terrible as search terms#but whatever i'll do it anyways#the women (1939)#old hollywood#joan crawford#rosalind russell#oh and for my followers this here is a glimpse into my most recent hyperfixation (old hollywood women and movies)#ive been stuck here for months. if i start blogging about terrible movies you've never heard of that can only be found on archive.org#then. that's my business. and i am sorry.#edit: fuck it this post gets pinned. yes it’s nothing compared to the any fic but it is where I live now. either way it takes you to my ao3
