#dahl acceptance

[notbroadwaybound]

Everyone was going on and on about that new Timothee Chalamet movie so I finally caved in and watch and I gotta say, I think Wonka was only okay. Way less sand than y'all were leading me to believe.

[dahldahlbills]

nano days 29 + 30

29- 856; 30- 722

Total word count: 36,770; 30,506 towards main wip!

*lies down on floor* i did it

[summertimenoir]

"Dahling, the main reason I accepted [the part] was to fuck that divine Gary Cooper!"

Gary Cooper and Tallulah Bankhead in Devil And The Deep (1932)

[pedroscurls]

feels like home

PART 1: SOMETHIN' IN YOUR EYES

summary: joel meets the new bartender at the tipsy bison and finds himself opening up in ways he didn't think was possible anymore.

pairing: jackson!joel x fem!reader content warning(s): alcohol consumption, age gap (joel is in 50s, reader is in 30s), mutual attraction/pining, joel calls you darlin' and angel, mention of death/grief, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n. word count: 4.3k a/n: it's been a very long time since i've written a multi-chaptered fic, but the song feels like home has consumed my thoughts and made me think about joel, so i had to write a story about it. the song will be a constant theme through this story, so please stay tuned and if you wanna give it a listen, it makes the reading experience even better <3 song: feels like home by randy newman (jørgen dahl moe cover) part 2. | series masterlist.

somethin’ in your eyes, makes me want to lose myself makes me want to lose myself, in your arms

When Joel arrived in Jackson with Ellie for the first time, it felt like a dream. It was a glimpse of what the world used to be before the outbreak and right in the middle of it was Tommy. The plan was to never stay in Jackson—he had promised Ellie he would take her to the Fireflies—but after Salt Lake City, Joel knew that Jackson was the only place that could give Ellie a sense of normalcy in an otherwise fucked up world. 

At first, Ellie had a hard time adjusting to Jackson. She had been on edge—after all, the young girl only ever knew about quarantine zones and FEDRA. Everything about Jackson felt too good to be true and she struggled to accept the fact that she deserved to be here. Ellie believed that her main purpose in this life was to cure the sickness that took over this world, but now it no longer was possible. She felt like she failed—the same way she failed Sam. So when Joel decided that Jackson was going to be the place they’d spend the rest of their days at, she battled with the possibility of living a different life than what other people had told her. 

But then she met Jesse. Cat. Dina. Ellie had established her own community with people her age and finally, she felt hopeful—optimistic. Maybe she could find another way to make her life matter. 

Joel, on the other hand, had made the conscious decision to keep to himself. He knew that he didn’t need anyone else other than Ellie, Tommy, Maria, and Benjamin. If people around the community needed help, Joel wouldn’t hesitate to offer his assistance—as long as he was capable—but that was the extent of his socializing. It was purely transactional. There’s a part of him that wishes he can open himself up in a way that Ellie has—even in a way that Tommy and Maria have—but he knows that there’s a fear that lingers in the pit of his stomach. He lost Sarah. He lost Tess. 

And he almost lost Ellie. 

Joel can’t let anyone else in, can’t let anyone get too close because there’s still the reality that not everyday is a guarantee. It gnaws at him—persistent, ever-present—that he can’t get too comfortable. Jackson provides a sense of security, a sense of safety but he knows… Joel knows that anything can happen. If he lets another person in—if he opens his heart and lowers his guard—there’s a strong possibility that his world will shatter all over again. 

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to socialize,” Tommy says, watching Joel hold Benjamin in his arms. The baby wiggles and for a fleeting moment, Tommy sees the same man that held Sarah for the first time. 

“Now why would I do that?” Joel asks, bringing his free hand to Benjamin's face. The baby gurgles and reaches up to grip Joel’s finger in his tiny hand. “I got all that I need right here.” 

“Joel, come on.” Tommy shakes his head. 

“M’fine, Tommy. I got Ellie. Got you and Maria, and this little guy, too.” 

“Don’t it get lonely, Joel?” 

Joel’s jaw tightens. Tommy notices. “Ain’t lonely.” 

Tommy sighs. “Ellie’s worried about you.”

Joel takes his eyes away from Benjamin to look over at Tommy. His eyes soften instantly and he leans back against the couch, slowly rocking the baby in his arms. “She shouldn’t be.” 

“But she is,” Tommy responds. “She’s getting to that age where she’s gonna want to spend more time with her friends and less time with you.” 

“M’fine,” he repeats. “I’ll talk to her.” 

“Joel…” Tommy says quietly. “At least have some fun.”

“Fun?” Joel arches a brow. 

“Yeah, you know… Get laid or somethin’.” 

Joel lets out a quiet chuckle and shakes his head. “Ain’t talkin’ with you about this.” 

“Oh please,” Tommy rolls his eyes. “You have eyes. So many women around here would love to get a chance with the mysterious Joel Miller,” he smirks. 

Joel gently takes his hand away from Benjamin's grip to reach for a throw pillow, chucking it in the direction of his younger brother. Tommy easily dodges the pillow and both men erupt in quiet laughter. Maria descends the stairs and smiles in both directions before Joel stands and gently hands her Benjamin. The baby immediately curls against Maria and he chuckles. “He’s a mama’s boy, ain’t he?” 

“He’s got a soft spot for daddy,” Tommy laughs. He stands from the couch and walks over to Maria. He places a hand on her lower back and presses a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Joel and I are gonna head to the Tipsy Bison. Want me to grab some food on my way back?” 

Maria shakes his head. “It’s okay, baby. Gonna make some soup.” 

Tommy nods and then glances over at Joel, grinning. “We’re going to the Tipsy Bison.” 

“Didn’t tell me that.” 

“Just did.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. “One drink, that’s all.” 

Tommy nods, clasping his older brother’s shoulders. “One drink,” he grins. 

Joel walks alongside Tommy, hands moving into his pockets. He can hear the chatter coming from inside the bar and when he steps inside, it becomes too much all at once. Tommy leads him to two seats at the counter and Joel sits down immediately, nodding once in Tommy’s direction. 

“Go on then,” he says. 

“Just gonna say some hi to some folks,” Tommy replies apologetically. “Then I’ll be back.” 

Joel shrugs. “Duty calls, little brother, but after one drink, I’m headin’ home.” He rests his forearms on the edges of the counter, squeezing himself far away from everyone else as possible. 

He glances up only to see Seth walk at the opposite end of the bar, but the older man gives him a nod—a signal to let him know that he’s next. Joel’s mind drifts to Ellie—had she really been that worried about him? He sighs to himself, lowers his head and taps his fingers impatiently—anxiously—against the wooden countertop. 

Tommy’s words come to mind: Get laid. He scoffs quietly to himself. Joel knows the last time he’s been with anyone intimately was Tess and even then, he couldn’t open himself up in a way that she wanted—he had always been guarded. It worked with Tess because she never pushed; there was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that it would never be more than just sex. 

And he’s older now—he can’t just go around the community, hooking up with women just to alleviate the loneliness he feels. Joel would never admit it, but the house does feel more quiet, empty now that Ellie’s in the garage. 

Suddenly, he hears a voice that pulls him out of his thoughts. In a loud room filled with chatter and laughter, Joel zeroes in on you. He looks up and sees you quickly make your way to Seth, pulling on a faded, dark green waist apron that you tie around your waist. 

“I’m so sorry, Seth,” Joel hears you say. “I overslept and—”

“It’s fine. You’re here now. We got a busy night,” Seth responds. “Can you get Joel?” 

Joel’s eyes quickly avert to stare at the decoration that’s hung along the wall, but there’s a pull that he feels in the pit of his stomach. Something he can’t ignore because he glances back in your direction and his eyes meet your own. He clears his throat—there’s something in your eyes that makes all the tension melt away. It’s soft, inviting, welcoming—there’s a sudden sense of calm and peace that washes over him under your gaze. 

Then, he sees you smile. You nod at Seth and begin walking in his direction. Joel straightens up in his seat—he can feel his heart beating faster as you approach him. He’s never seen you around Jackson before and he didn’t know that Seth had help here at the Tipsy Bison either—socializing, he can hear Tommy’s voice in his head. If Joel had bothered to socialize, maybe he would have seen you sooner. 

“Hi,” you smile, hands resting against the edge of the counter. You’re standing in front of him—eyes still locked with his own. “What can I get you?” 

“Just a beer,” he answers. Joel doesn’t return your smile with his own, but you don’t falter. You give him a nod and grab a glass before turning around to pour the beer into his mug. He shouldn’t look—Joel knows he shouldn’t—but he can’t help the way his eyes deviate from your shoulders down to your waist and hips, settling on the nice curves of your plump ass, down your legs and back up. He lets his eyes rake over your frame a few seconds longer before you turn back around, glass filled with beer and the same kind smile on your lips. 

“Thank you,” Joel mutters, watching you set the glass right in front of him. “Are you new around here?” He asks. 

You shake your head and move to cross your arms over your chest. Joel’s gaze flickers briefly—you’re wearing a v-neck shirt and your movement causes a more prominent showing of cleavage. 

“Not in Jackson, but new here at the Tipsy Bison,” you answer. “I teach during the day and then help Seth out at night on some nights.” 

“Why?” Joel asks. 

You shrug. “Because he needed help… Besides, that’s what Jackson’s all about, isn’t it?” 

Joel lets the corner of his lips turn upwards—he knew exactly what you meant. He liked feeling useful, liked to keep busy by helping people around the town too. “Yeah, yeah guess you’re right. I’m Joel.” 

“Oh, I know who you are,” you grin. There’s a glint of mischief in your eyes—like you know something he doesn’t. 

Joel arches a brow. “Huh. What’s with that look?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Ain’t look like nothin’ to me.” Joel answers, lifting the glass of beer to his lips and taking a swig of the contents. 

“You just—” Joel sees you bite your lower lip nervously as he watches your eyes move towards the length of his neck, down to his throat when he swallows. “A lot of women like to talk, that’s all.” 

“Yeah?” Joel smirks. “And what do they say, darlin’?” 

You narrow your eyes and lean forward—almost in his personal space, but not quite. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Miller.” Then, you step back and wink at him. Before he can even say a word, you turn on your heel to help the other patrons who had been flagging you down to get their order. Joel watches you carefully, sees you glance over your shoulder in his direction. Your eyes meet his again and Joel feels that same calmness wash over him. He didn’t even get a chance to ask you for your name. 

Tommy breaks him out of his thoughts by plopping down on the barstool next to him. When he waves his hand, it’s Seth that comes by to take the other man’s order—a glass of scotch, neat. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles to Joel. 

“All good,” Joel answers. “Hey, I didn’t know that Seth got some help runnin’ this place.” 

Tommy arches a brow and then glances at Joel before his eyes sweep the area—until they land on you. Then, a knowing smirk lines his lips as he brings the glass up to his lips. 

“If you’d come out more often, you’d know.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. “What’s her name?” 

Tommy chuckles. “You tellin’ me you didn’t ask her?” 

“Was gonna,” Joel mutters under his breath. “But she got busy.” 

“Well then,” the younger man winks. “That’s your homework for tonight.” 

Joel scoffs and gently shoves Tommy. “Get outta here.” 

Tommy laughs quietly and sets the glass down back on the counter. “Come on, Joel. She keeps looking over here at you. Have some fun.” 

Joel looks over at you and catches your stare. You bite your lower lip again. Under his gaze, you feel your cheeks heat up and spread along your chest and neck. You try to busy yourself, but you can’t help the tug you feel in your chest—like an invisible string tying you to him, a reminder that he’s just right there. 

“Maybe,” Joel finally says. “Maybe.” 

Tommy grins broadly and clinks his glass with Joel’s. “Attaboy. ‘Sides, I think she’d be good for you. She’ll certainly keep you on your toes, that’s for sure.” 

Joel looks away from you and turns to Tommy, curiosity spread across his features. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Guess there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Tommy chuckles. 

“You’re annoying. Talkin’ in riddles and shit,” Joel shakes his head. 

“All I’m sayin’,” Tommy smiles. “Is that you deserve to have some fun… and so does she.” 

“Right,” Joel replies. He takes another swig of his beer and sets his now empty glass on the counter. He’s about to stand up when you appear right in front of both the Miller brothers. Tommy nods your way, smiling politely and kindly like he usually does. You return the smile, but when your eyes move to Joel’s, it’s like you’re rooted where you stand.

“Need another refill?” You ask. 

Joel shakes his head. “One’s enough, darlin’. Thank you though.” 

“Oh,” you reply—disappointment in your tone. “Well, have a good night, Joel.” 

You turn around and Tommy nudges Joel, his arm shoving against the older man’s—a gentle reminder for him to ask your name. It’s a gentle push of encouragement. Joel sighs inaudibly and stands up, quietly calling out to you, “Wait, hey…” 

You turn around instantly and look up at him—biting that lower lip again that Joel suddenly feels the urge to do himself. “Yeah?” 

“I didn’t catch your name,” he says, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. 

A bright smile lines your lips and you answer, telling him your name. Joel smiles to himself and he nods, pocketing both hands into his jeans. “Nice to meet you, darlin’.” 

“Hope I get to see you around here more often, Joel.” There’s a hopeful tone in your voice and neither of you bother to even break eye contact. Tommy’s watching this interaction unfold with excitement because finally, you might be the reason to help Joel see that there is more to this life than what he had gotten used to. 

“As long as you’re here, maybe,” Joel smiles, nodding once in your direction before he breaks the gaze to look at Tommy. 

“Good night, big brother,” Tommy winks. 

“Night,” Joel answers, hand coming up to clasp the younger man’s shoulder. He squeezes once before he turns on his heel to leave the building, but not before he spares another glance at you. 

Joel sits at his workbench later that night, staring at the unfinished guitar he was working on. It’s late and he knows Ellie’s at Dina’s for the night. Tommy’s words echo in his mind as his hand brushes along the wood. 

Don’t it get lonely, Joel?

Joel sighs and stands from the stool. It is lonely. It has been lonely, but the fear of opening himself up to let someone in is far too risky. 

Then, his mind drifts to the brief interaction with you. There had been something in your eyes that pulled him in and made him want to stay. You had a way of making all of the noise disappear—that with one look, he felt like he could breathe. 

The Tipsy Bison is closing soon and Joel doesn’t hesitate to grab his coat and leave his home. He doesn’t give himself enough time to talk himself out of it because Tommy’s right. He does deserve to have some fun—it doesn’t need to be serious, he tells himself. 

After a few minutes, Joel steps inside and revels in the quiet. He glances around, notices a few lingering patrons that are sitting at the counter. He wonders if they have the same thoughts that usually keep him up at night. Then, Joel sees you in his peripheral. You’re wiping down the tables, extremely focused as you move throughout the area. Joel clears his throat and walks over to you. He watches your gaze move from the table and up at him—suddenly, a smile lines your lips. 

“Joel,” you say quietly. 

“Hi,” he replies—barely above a whisper. He points to the towel in your hand and asks, “You need some help?” 

“Oh,” you answer, shocked. “You don’t have to. I got this and—”

Joel shakes his head and then gently reaches out to take the towel from your hands. “That’s what Jackson is all about, ain’t it?” He grins, winking in your direction. 

“Yeah,” you bite your lower lip and nod. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime, angel.” Joel then moves to the other tables that you hadn’t yet cleaned and you watch him for a moment. He had removed his coat and draped it over a vacant barstool. You watch his strong arms move across the table—muscles flexing through the white t-shirt he’s wearing. 

You’ve heard women talk about him, have even heard some stories from some men too, but there was just something about Joel that you wanted to get to know. The women found him attractive—stoic, quiet, mysterious. The men were intimidated by him—stories from his past coming to light. 

You watch the fabric of his shirt stretch over his broad back and when he rests one hand on the table to brace himself while he reaches for the top of it, you watch as the shirt rides up slowly to reveal the waistband of his boxers and jeans. You clear your throat, turning around quickly to retrieve another towel. 

Seth had left for the night, leaving it up to you to close. You didn’t mind though—it gets very lonely in your home. It’s one of the reasons why you offered to help him out because when you’re alone, especially at night, the lingering thoughts start to surface. Being around other people, busying yourself, helps keep those thoughts at bay. 

When you dampen the towel with water, you walk back over to Joel and begin wiping it down. Joel glances up at you and he smiles—big enough for you to see the dimple that appears on his cheek. 

You look away for a moment to see the last couple of people leave—now just you and Joel alone. 

“So,” he says quietly. “Teacher, huh?” 

“It was either teaching or cooking,” you laugh quietly. “And I don’t want you all to suffer from my cooking.” 

Joel lets out a quiet chuckle. “Not much of a cook?”

“God, no. Everything I seem to make either burns or is bland as shit.” 

Joel’s laughter becomes louder now—he feels lighter around you, like all of the problems of the world no longer rest on his shoulders. “Can’t say I’m any different.” 

“No?” You smile, moving to the table nearby. Joel follows you, standing on the other end. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Before all of this,” Joel begins, waving his hand in the air. “My baby girl used to cook for me.” When he looks at you, you’re staring at him with the softest eyes—it makes him feel like it’s okay to talk about Sarah. “My daughter, she was…” he bites his lower lip. “She was the best.” 

You stop wiping the table and walk around to stand next to him. Gently, you rest a hand on his shoulder and you can see the pain etched on his features. You can feel the tension in his body. “Yeah? What would she cook for you?” 

Joel relaxes under your touch. “Anything. Everything. Most nights, I’d come home late because I was workin’. She’d be there when I’d get home—food on a plate on our dining table. Would say you’re late dad, but you need to eat.” Tears sting his eyes. “She took care of me… when I should’ve been taking care of her.” 

Slowly, you bring him to sit down on the chair and you sir across from him. Your hand moves from his shoulder to his hand—it’s so much bigger than your own. “I’m sure you did your best,” you say quietly. “And I’m sure she knew that.” 

Joel shrugs, doesn’t respond. He’s already said too much—his walls have come down and he isn’t sure what it is about you that makes it so easy. 

“Sorry,” Joel mumbles. “We just met and here I am, cryin’ all over you.” 

You smile and meet his eyes—Joel can’t help but get lost in your gaze. He’s already thinking and yearning for the next time he gets to see you again. 

“I guess I owe you one then, huh?” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“Oh, angel. You don’t have to—”

You squeeze his hand and shake your head. “I’m always asking people if they need help because it’s hard for me when the world is quiet…” You keep your hand over his but you drop your eyes to the floor. “I like when I’m busy, when I’m around other people because then my mind doesn’t ever get a chance to remind me of all the horrible shit I’ve done or seen.” 

Joel sets the towel on the table and rests his hand over your own. He holds it on his lap, thumb brushing along the back of your hand—it’s a subtle gesture to comfort you, to reassure you that he’s here and he’s listening. 

Joel nods—he understands completely. 

“I had a younger brother,” you tell him. “The world ended when we were so young and our parents were gone before that. He had such a big heart, even in this world. Always wanting to help people, never wanting them to hurt. In the end, it only got him killed.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you slowly pull your hand from Joel’s. “He would have loved Jackson.” 

“M’sorry, angel,” Joel whispers, already missing the feel of your hand in his own. 

“I’m sorry too,” you reply quietly. “I bet your girl would’ve loved Jackson too.” 

Joel nods, smiles sadly and then stands up. “She would have, yeah. Come on. Let’s finish cleanin’ so I can walk you home.” 

“You know it’s late right?” You tell him, standing from your chair. “You don’t have to stay this long.” 

Joel shrugs. “Guess I also don’t want to give my mind a chance to remind me of all the people I’ve lost, or the things I’ve done either.” 

You nod—it’s a shared understanding that only Joel has made you feel. For the rest of the time, both you and Joel clean the tables and the counter of the bar. After about half an hour, you lead him out of the Tipsy Bison and lock the door behind you. 

Joel walks alongside you, hands in his pockets as he glances at you repeatedly from the corners of his eyes. He isn’t sure why he even mentioned Sarah—she had always been such a sensitive topic—but he couldn’t help how easy it was with you, how you bring a sense of peace that he hasn’t felt in decades. 

He allows you to lead the way and as you both continue to walk in a comfortable silence, Joel feels you slowly move closer to him. He can’t help but smile to himself. 

“So,” you begin, glancing up at him. 

“So,” he repeats. 

“Will I see you again?” You ask—hopeful. “Can I see you again?” 

Joel smiles and sees your home come into view. He walks you towards the front door and nods, moving a hand from his pocket to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I think that can be arranged.” 

“I like talking to you,” you grin—the heat in your cheeks rises once more at the feeling of his touch against your cheek. He drops his hand back to his side. 

“Me too. You make all the noise go away,” he admits.

You bite your lower lip and watch as his eyes deviate to your lips—it only makes you feel warmer. “Talking about the hard stuff… it’s easy with you.” 

Joel smiles—the dimple appearing yet again on his scruffy cheek. “Yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah,” you answer. 

“Good,” Joel says. “Because it’s easy with you too.” 

There’s a flicker of excitement that Joel catches in your eyes and it’s contagious—your joy, your happiness. “I haven’t let anyone in,” you whisper quietly. “Not since losing my brother.” 

Joel nods in understanding. “Me too,” he whispers. “I almost lost Ellie and I told myself that I didn’t need to open up to anyone else, but then…” he brings his hand back up to your cheek, brushes the pad of thumb across your soft skin. “But then I saw you tonight and there’s just somethin’ in your eyes that makes me feel… Lighter. Calmer.” 

You clear your throat quietly and nod—his big, brown eyes are staring directly at you. You had seen Joel around Jackson before and while he never noticed you—too focused to get home or not bothering to make small talk with people he passed by—you couldn’t help but have this strange feeling that he made you feel safe. So when you saw him at the Tipsy Bison tonight and felt his eyes finally meet yours, that feeling of safety just amplified. 

Suddenly, you wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek against his chest. You can feel the warmth radiate in the pit of your stomach, can hear the sound of his heart beating. Then, when his strong arms wrap around you as well, you melt into him. 

He feels like home. 

Joel’s taken by surprise when your arms wrap around him, but his arms waste no time in wrapping itself around you. He feels you lean into him and he shuts his eyes, buries his face against your hair. 

You feel like home.  

“Good night, Joel,” you whisper against him. 

“G’night, angel,” he replies. 

taglist: @greenwitchfromthewoods @probablyreadinsmut @yxtkiwiyxt @brittmb115 @dendulinka6 @missladym1981

[societyoftheblindeye]

I feel like the way fidds and Stan are presented is so interesting like the masculinity they both give feels soooo very intentional and very modeled off of such specific ideals outside of their upbringings. They both come from areas that one would assume to be kind of hypermasculine in very specific ways like for instance a hog farm in rural Tennessee and very clean pressed neighborhood near the Jersey shore but they both kind of find themselves gravitating towards a more lax and artistic kind of vibe, specifically disco. And they still incorporate textures and patterns and staple pieces from the men of their upbringing into it while also branching out towards more flamboyant personas. Like, this is smth I wrote for a fiddlestan diddy a while back:

Stan was masculine in a way that Fiddleford wasn't used to. He was so used to masculinity being used as a shield. Something to hide behind; something rigid and and unchanging. A strict expectation that was the same from man to man, leaving little room for Fiddleford's silk shirts and flared jeans and shaggy hair. But Stanley's masculinity, in his tank top with his mullet and his curiosity, came off as more inviting. More fluid. It felt like a tide that kept flicking up around Fiddleford's ankles, and the looseness made his knees feel weak. Fiddleford licked his lips at the realization of how well they complimented each other.

Like they both have smth abt them that is so obviously “out of place” to a lot of potential random onlookers but is integral to how they feel abt themselves bc this is how they’re choosing to present themselves to the world ESPECIALLY Stan bc he lives so much of his life as a character rather than just as himself bc that’s the only way he feels he can survive bc being himself has hurt him so much in his life. But even when Fiddleford DOES achieve what the normal expectations for a man would be - a wife and a child and a home and a chance to own his own business - he still throws it all away for the chance to be close to ford. Who I think at this point is safe to call a canonically queer character. So there is smth in him that is very willing to forego all the traditional masculinity he’s managed to maintain for the chance to be close to someone who might understand why he feels TRAPPED by that traditional masculinity

“Oh but it was the 70’s, disco was popular, it was fine to dress like that” just… as someone who also grew up in Appalachia with family who were in their 20’s and 30’s in the 1970’s who still would have ridiculed or even threatened anyone who dressed like this… not always. Just because styles are popular in music or television doesn’t mean that they would be acceptable to someone’s upbringing or their peers, and I just know from growing up in the same kind of environment as Fiddleford that it would be likely and realistic that he rly was only able to dress like this BECAUSE of the distance he had put between himself and his family. And the reason I brought up disco specifically being a big source of inspiration for both of their fashion senses, in relation to them both having a kind of queer sense of masculinity, was bc disco was heavily influenced by ppl who were facing social persecution at the time (feminists and gay men and black ppl) and the genre was in itself a sense of community and social liberation. And even when it was at the height of its popularity disco was attacked and forced out of fashion by racist, misogynistic, and homophobic rock n roll fans in what ultimately became a riot led by a popular macho manliness preaching shock jock named Steve Dahl who started the “disco sucks” movement. So like… disco DID have its time in the spotlight, but it WAS still a source of sexual freedom in a time when that was very much not okay. There was a huge evangelical revival going on the 70’s that specifically attacked the small bit of sexual freedom that society experienced in the 60’s, and it was very much a time when ppl were saying that sexual freedom would turn ppl into actual murderers. So even tho disco was commercially successful, it still wasn’t ideal to be associated with it in a lot of places

But also i don’t think EITHER of them are Fem. I do think they’re both masc bc like… yeah. Like I said, even tho Fiddleford’s style is very disco heavy, he IS bringing in those textures and patterns and staples from his upbringing. And the way he was brought up, he would have most likely seen cowboys as the ideal masculine archetype. And while disco was a heated topic in the 70’s, the same silhouettes were still kind of floating around the country scene. Jeans were flared, just not full on bell bottoms. There were wide collared shirts, but not as deep a cut on the neck. And paisley was a pattern that kind of bridges the two groups. So he’s rly marrying the freedom from disco with the flair of 70’s country, which IS kind of a masculine approach to take when flirting with disco fashion. I also think a lot of ppl conflate body type with gender expression (waify, skinny = feminine/fat, broad = masculine) so they see a thinner guy who’s kind of faggy and go “oh he must be Fem” while disregarding EVERYTHING else abt him.

Like what was the point of us getting this picture if you’re just gonna ignore everything but ford’s stupid shorts?

No parents, no wife, no small town church culture. It’s rly him at his most free and his mustache isn’t even the push broom style of mustache that was commonly associated with cowboys in the early 1970’s. This style of mustache was more associated with bikers at the time, and American biker culture has its roots in the post-war gay community. It’s the same origin as the leather community (as in leather daddy) which is why they share so many stylistic staples. So like… that’s yet another display of affinity towards a more masculine style

I don’t know… I just think they’re both so fascinating & I think considering a character’s wardrobe and styling is rly important to understanding them better

[yeeterthek33per]

In Your Head (And Out Of Your Heart) (Steph Catley x Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested

Also, I promise I've got others lined up. There was just a wave of Stephy and Cait lined up in my requests, and I'm just doing first come, first served rn 😅

Summary: Moments for the trio, complications, expectations, and satisfactory temptations. or all the times everybody but the three of you realise you love them a little more than friends do.

Sleek muscular lines run up the outside of her calves, defining themselves with every strain of the muscular legs belonging to the sweet and bubbly Australian.

Apparently, facing the treadmills away from the wall so that one could see the whole gym when doing their runs was what the interior designers wanted.

It also meant anyone doing hip thrusts was in your direct line of sight, facing off to the side.

The way her shorts ride up slightly, showing off toned thighs, was another problem.

You shake your head a little.

Why were you ogling... again..

Steph's your best friend. You don't want to make it awkward. Sure, all friends called each other hot and stuff, but they definitely don't check each other out in attempted subtlety.

The soft grunts as she lifts up the bar permeate through the music in your left ear leaving your cheeks to darken significantly.

Of course, in the midst of that, you make the mistake of taking a small sip from your water bottle whilst mid run.

Steph let's the weight settle back onto the ground away from her, but in the process of stretching out again, her shirt lifts slightly, revealing a sliver of the soft, newly tanned skin you'd been imagining feeling under your fingertips for months on end.

Water gets caught halfway down your throat as your breath hitches and with that a coughing fit that makes you end up in a piled heap on the ground.

A concerned hand patting your back, helping you regain your breathing, grabs your attention.

It's a familiar hand that you immediately recognise as belonging to the other call for your affection.

If your cheeks weren't already bright red from exertion and nearly dying, they would've darkened further at your treadmill buddy having been the one to spot you on the ground.

Though given the amount of racket you've just made, drawing attention from the whole squad and their trainers, Caitlin isn't the only one now watching you with a concerned look.

"You alright, Dahl?"

You nod, accepting the hand up from the brunette, brushing yourself off quickly.

"Fine, just water went down the wrong hole." You joke mildly.

A smile tugging at the corner of Caitlin's lips makes your stomach warm, and you have to fight every urge to run away in embarrassment as it quickly morphs into a smirk.

"Maybe don't drink water mid stride next time, cutie."

With an affectionate roll of your eyes, you quickly return to the treadmill once again, shooting the onlooking blue eyed striker a reassuring smile as she watches you return to position with a careful gaze, though doing so makes your heart beat a little faster in your chest.

With that, you resort to getting lost in thought instead of so blatantly staring.

You have to get your feelings under control and fast.

--------------------------

"Do you think she notices?"

Steph's head perks up from it's position resting on her propped up hand.

"What?"

Beth gestures to your shaking form, body rattling with laughter as you talk with your teammates during breakfast.

"Y/n."

"Does she notice what?"

Steph's confused look is met with a cynical one from the blonde.

"Does she notice it when you both give her 'fuck me' eyes?"

Caitlin just about spits out her food across from them, coughing to avoid choking, and then swallowing.

"What the fuck are you on about?"

Beth scoffs.

"Please, you both know exactly what I'm talking about. Steph, you were staring at the girl for exactly one minute and thirty two seconds before I had to call your attention away just then and Caitlin, don't act like you weren't ogling the poor girl while she was relying on you as her spotter when she was doing her squat sets yesterday."

Steph's face goes mildly pink as she shakes her head.

"Yeah, no. There's no 'fuck me' eyes. At all. I'm happily engaged to Dean. Beffy, I have no idea what you're seeing here."

"Yeah, Beth, this is weird, even for you. I'm happy as I am with Lia."

"You guys... seriously?"

They both nod, Steph quickly changing the subject with a final glare at Beth so she doesn't protest for the rest of the meal.

They both finish up their food swiftly, taking off separately.

Beth groans, sliding her hand down her face. This was gonna be harder than she thought. There was no way she'd be able to get one of you to admit your feelings, let alone all three of you, by herself. She needed help.

And she knew just who to ask.

--------------------------

"No."

"But I haven't even-"

The captain holds up her hand, silencing the englishwoman.

"I'm not getting involved with whatever you've got planned."

"But Kimmy!"

The striker whines, latching onto the older woman hoping she'll give in to the puppy dog eyes.

"Beth-"

"I need help getting Y/n, Cait and Stephy to admit they're in love with each other."

That makes Kim's brows raise.

"Hell no. I'm not getting involved in other people's love lives. That's a definite fucking no. Also what makes you so confident in this information anyways?"

"You mean aside from Y/n nearly breaking something tripping on the treadmill yesterday after watching Stephy do her hip thrusts? Or Caitlin being the first one by her side?"

Assuming her power pose, Kim gives her a sceptical look.

"You mean when she was drinking water and choked? Or when Caitlin, the closest person to her, checked on her?"

Beth groans.

"No! It's not just that. It's the constant staring at each other. You should have seen the eyes Y/n was giving Cait in the locker room the other day. Not to mention the constant teasing from Cait as well. Steph is a like magnet when it comes to those two. The serious heart eyes she had this morning during breakfast were so ridiculously telling. I-"

Kim sighs and puts her hand again, pointing a finger at the striker.

"No, Beth, that's enough of that, honestly, I will not be getting involved in that, and you certainly shouldn't either. If I see you interfering at all."

It's a silent threat, but Beth doesn't need to hear it. Unfortunately, much like a team mother would, Kim would very much ground her. And would very much enforce it, too.

Okay, so maybe Kim wasn't her best option. She'd try Viv, but there's almost 100% chance she'd say no. Steph would normally be her next best option but obviously that's out of the question.

So she resigns to sighing and nodding, leaving the Arsenal captain alone to do her stretches.

Maybe Jen?

--------------------------

"No, absolutely not."

"But Jen, it's imperative we fix this issue, otherwise, all we'll be stuck with is longing looks for the rest of their lives."

"Beth, there's no issue to fix. Steph is getting married, and Caitlin is in a relationship. You're forgetting Lia is our friend too."

Beth paused for a moment. Jen's right. She hadn't even thought of the repercussions this would have on Lia. She was one of her oldest friends, too. God, she was an ass.

But still, she'd be an ever bigger ass if she couldn't help her friends out a little, right?

"Beffy, I know what you're thinking. But the answer is no. It's not worth it. It'll just create more drama than it's worth, I won't entertain the idea. It's gonna hurt someone, and what, then?"

"I know, I know. But you've gotta admit, there's something there, though, isn't there?"

Jen sighs softly.

"If even there might be an astronomical possibility that they're all magically single and available to mingle, and also completely fine with this. There's an off chance that they might work, given they're all so obviously at least girl crushing a little. But even then, it would still hurt someone."

Her shoulder's deflate, and Jen wraps her arm around her.

"Come on, Beth, just let it go. If it's meant to be, they'll work themselves out. Leave it alone. Now, come on, help me with this cleaning."

--------------------------

Steph's eyes trail across the pitch, taking but a few mere milliseconds to analyse your next run before sending a cross your way.

The perfectly timed lead allows for a perfectly timed header and a perfectly timed goal, equalising in just the second last minute of reg time.

The crowd erupts, and you bounce over to the defender, arms wrapping tightly around the woman in elation.

"Let's go, babygirl!"

Her hands settle underneath your legs, holding tightly so as to not drop you while your hands hold her face, forehead pressing to hers as you yell victoriously.

The final was Arsenal's for the taking now, thanks to your brilliant header.

The moment only serves to heighten your energy, and you drop from her grip only to jump into the waiting arms of your favourite striker.

"That's my girl!"

Your grin widens, and you shake her shoulders in excitement. Normally, you wouldn't brush aside that sort of comment, but it's in the middle of a game, so it's swept away to never be heard from again.

Returning to positions, Man United get the game underway once more, now downtrodden that they have to get another goal too.

Your heart races when you're given but another opportunity in the second stoppage minute. Or really, it's not much of an opportunity, more like a hail mary.

The ball has left your boot in an attempt at a last-minute miracle to give Arsenal the win.

From nearly fifty yards out, the ball sails far over the defensive line, passing a caught off guard Earps, who you'd spotted off her line just moments ago.

When it ricochets off the woodwork and into the net, you can hardly believe it, dropping to your knees in disbelief that it actually worked.

The noise from the crowd is almost unbearable.

Bodies pile onto yours, forcing you onto the pitch. Screaming and cheers from your teammates leave you matching their excitement and disbelief in your limited wiggles underneath the pile of Arsenal players.

The pile eventually pulls off you, and with several hugs and hair ruffles, you immediately feel the tightest hug between your two favourite people. You throw an arm up at the crowd from between Steph and Caitlin, both of them singing your praises into your ear as loud as they can.

The crowd cheers louder at your gesture, the feelings wash over you finally.

Relief. Happiness. Mild disbelief still.

"You fucking beautiful woman!"

"That's our fucking girl right here, baby!"

You grin up at the two women, squeezing both of them tightly and running back to position with one final wave to the crowd.

Two pairs of eyes watching the interaction exchange looks.

The moment play is restarted, the whistle blows for full time, leaving you and your teammates screaming in celebration.

Steph is the first one to you, jumping into your arms, wrapping tightly around you, and legs wrapping around your waist as you quickly grab them to avoid dropping her.

Your heart beats hard and fast, not sure whether it's the win or Steph's hands grabbing your face and kissing your forehead that does it.

A part of you wants to assume it's the win.

A part of you knows it's both.

That doesn't stop you from relishing in the moment, though, thoroughly enjoying her hands on you, which are now squishing your cheeks adorably.

The moment is gone the moment she leaves your arms, but it doesn't last long.

Caitlin is quick to pile on you next, fingers threading through your hair. While unintentional, it makes you buzz just that little bit more.

When her grin makes your whole body warm, you realise at that moment just how screwed you are.

And if anyone were to ask about your blush at them both kissing your cheeks in a pose for a photo with the trophy, well, you'd just deny it to the ends of the Earth.

--------------------------

Steph doesn't think about the little things too often. Moments here and there that aren't even so much as waved off, they're that insignificant.

Small touches. Friendly hugs. Little gifts. Every little detail that she normally ignores.

She doesn't think about all the times she's hugged you just that little bit tighter than she does with Beth or Lia.

She doesn't think about the bag of her favourite lollies being left in her cubby after practice that was most definitely planted by you.

She doesn't think about the way her eyes drift to you naturally, watching your form move across the pitch gracefully.

She doesn't think about the way her mood always brightens when she sees you, even if you'd already seen each other five times that day.

She doesn't think about the kiss she leaves on your forehead or cheek when you say hello or goodbye.

Except she does.

At least now that Beth's pointed it out to her.

Truth is, as much as she denied it that day at breakfast, her eyes were locked on you in every spare moment.

Realising just how much you actually invaded her thoughts and senses, well...

It's a startling revelation.

It scares the crap out of her.

She loves Dean and would do anything for the man she's planning to marry. He's a sweetheart. He keeps her on her toes. He takes care of her better than all of her previous partners ever could.

It's a startling revelation when she realises how much time she spends with you and Caitlin over him.

Caitlin.

That one comes out of left field. It definitely worries her, though, her best friend entering her trail of thought, too. That one catches her a little more off guard than she likes.

So, she leaves that one for another time, shoving it back into what was supposed to be a deadbolt box of intrusive thoughts in her head.

She hates how much you invade her head.

When she thinks back on what started it, she can't pinpoint it. Just that you'd always been the sweetest friend to her. Friend. She hates that her stomach turns at the term.

It'd always been you to comfort her in moments of doubt. It was always you she wanted beside her when victory came the team's way.

Steph feels helpless when she realises how much she actually cares for you.

She feels helpless when she realises how screwed she truly is.

"Babe, dinner's ready!"

Dean's voice brings her out of her head, echoing from the kitchen of their shared flat in London.

As she makes her way over to the table, the plate already set out for her, a small kiss pressed into the bearded cheek of her fiance, her mind wanders back again.

What the hell is she gonna do?

--------------------------

Beth doesn't leave it alone in the end. She's determined to at least get something out of you if she can't get something out of Steph or Caitlin.

Though with Kim now watching her like a hawk during training, she has to be subtle about it, so getting you alone during a night out without Kim or Jen is a little too difficult, especially since you're glued to Caitlin and Steph's sides constantly.

Viv being there is out of the question, so she had to come up with an excuse to get you out with her, on your own.

"N/n pleeeease, I need you to come with me, shopping."

You groan into the phone in annoyance at the blonde. You'd just wanted to enjoy your day off without the stress of having to socialise like an adult.

"Why can't you go on your own? Or with literally anyone else but me? Steph or Viv, or literally any one of the 23 other women in our squad?"

"Because you've got the day off, Steph is busy, Viv is out of the question because I'm shopping for a gift for her, and I want it to be a surprise and you're the only other one that knows her almost as good as I do."

You can hear the pout from your side of the line, and when you sigh softly into the receiver, Beth knows she's won.

"Fine, but I really wanna be back home as soon as possible. I have some serious me time planned, and I wanna get back to that as soon as possible."

"Gross Y/n, I know you're single and all but-:

"Shut the fuck up and get over here."

-

It doesn't take her long to come kidnap you and drag you around to nearly every store in the shopping centre, and it's a miracle you're only stopped once for pictures.

"Beth, why are we here? Why do you need my opinion on this? Why am I even here?"

Apparently, her final chosen store was a lingerie store. It also means she's trying to get you to purchase something as well. Why? You don't know.

"Because you're the next best judge for me. Also, you need to get out. You've been way too busy lately and need to do some shopping for you and for you only."

"For god sakes, I'm literally you're only single friend, I'd be the worst judge for this."

Punctuating your sentence with dropping into your seat once again with a tired groan.

"Also, I know I've been way too busy, that's why I was at home in the first place. Now, can we please hurry up and go, Beffy?"

You whine, now getting fidgety under the pile of bags you've been made to carry around for her.

Tossing another pair back over the curtain to you, telling you to toss her the next pair, she chuckles at your exasperation.

She's been stalling as long as she can to try and get the opportunity to talk to you but hasn't found the right words this whole time. She knows if she doesn't ask soon, she'll up losing her only chance.

"Just give me a couple more minutes to try these on, and I'll take you to go get some nando's?"

Huffing softly, knowing she's got you with the offer of food, you sit back down again, waiting for her to finish browsing.

"Fine, but hurry up or you'll be dealing with hangry Y/n, too."

"Got it, Sweetpea. Now, pick out a set, too."

Your loud groan of annoyance makes her laugh.

-

It's only in the car on the way home that she finally manages to ask.

"So, Y/n, I've been noticing some things over the past couple months."

Swallowing the mouthful of chicken, you look over at her suspiciously.

"And what would that be?"

"You've been giving Stephy and Cait eyes."

Turning your head, you roll your eyes at the same time, though there's a sting in your eyes as you fight back the oncoming rush of emotion.

"Beth, you're gonna have to be specific. I kinda have to look at them to converse with them. Ya know, best friends and all."

Giving emphasis to the word friends, you're hoping she'll let what you know she's about to say go. Of course, this is Beth, and of course, that's not happening.

"N/n, that's not what I meant, and you know it."

It's said a little softer this time, with the hopes you don't scare away entirely.

"It's not happening, Beffy. There's nothing there, and nothing will ever be there."

Her heart breaks for you at the crack in your voice and she can see tears peaking out of the corners of your eyes.

She pulls over in an isolated carpark, so she can fully look at you.

"Doesn't mean it hurts any less."

"If it means I don't lose them, then I don't care how much it may or may not hurt. I can't lose them."

You've fully curled up in her passenger seat now, legs pressed to your chest as you pick at the cuticles on your fingers.

"I can't do it. I can't let them see it."

She sighs, resigning to letting you work this out for now. She knows you're stubborn. She knows you won't let her intervene under any circumstance.

"I'm serious, Beffy. You can't tell them, they can't know about this. I won't lose them."

"I won't tell them. If that's what you want, I won't tell them. They still deserve to know, though. It's not fair on you or them to keep this bottled up. It'll kill you in the end if you don't tell someone."

"So be it... I'll figure something out. Maybe take some time away. The only way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?"

It's said in half joking tone, but Beth knows otherwise. She's seen how you coped with your previous relationship ending. You nearly killed your reputation entirely with the constant one night stands.

How you cope is up to you, and she still respects you as a person, but she also wants you to be happy, both with yourself and your life.

She never judged you. She never seriously complained at having to come get you every other night for three weeks straight every time you called her for a lift home.

She did get sick of it though, and she finally managed to get you to leave that behind fairly swiftly after your position on the team was threatened by the incessant news articles with leaked images of you with a new girl on your arm in every single one.

The others hadn't entirely seen that side of you, you pushing them away to avoid scaring them away too.

Beth was the only one who didn't take your attempts at pushing her away.

"Just, take it easy, alright? Don't let it risk your career as well. I'm not letting that happen again. You're my family, sweet girl."

She punctuates the sentence by pulling you to hug her over the console, and you let her, letting the tears fall finally, holding your best friend tightly.

"It's gonna be okay, Y/n. It might not feel like it, but you'll make it out okay eventually."

Would you?

--------------------------

Caitlin, to her credit, doesn't acknowledge what Beth had said until much later. It takes a whole two months until she even realises her heart had been elsewhere.

Until her current relationship with Lia becomes a past one.

When she realises she should feel more devastated than she does.

When she realises that she feels way more comfortable about the breakup than she should.

Her thoughts don't fully drift to you until she feels her heart race when you hug her after she tells you about the breakup.

It's not that she never thought about you, really. It's more that she never realised she was thinking about you a lot more than was acceptable.

The gifts she'd get you, whether it be fresh coffee in the morning or even flowers after your previous breakup just a year ago.

The small cheeks kisses she'd get from you in return that make her cheeks flush a little.

She begins to wonder in that moment.

Had you noticed the way her heart sped up a little when you hugged her, ear pressed to her chest as you both embraced?

Had you noticed the pink hue her face took on when you smiled that gorgeous smile that only appears when you're genuinely happy?

Had Lia noticed any of this?

It makes her feel both guilty but also flustered at the thought of being so dimwittingly obvious.

In the final conversation between her and her ex, Lia had cited her lack of presence in the relationship.

"You're just not in it anymore, Caitlin. I can't be with you when you aren't here, with me."

She does feel guilty for it. Knows how crap Lia must have felt not having her girlfriend there for her, but she knows it's for the best.

What she does notice is your sudden absence. She sees a lot less of you than she'd like. You disappear from rooms that she's in. If you're forced to be in the room, you're seated far from her and Steph.

Training is much the same, only interacting to keep it professional. It makes her heart ache more than anything. Had she done something? Was she too telling?

Her stomach drops at the thought.

What if you knew? What if she was too obvious?

What if-

"Hey, you alright Cait?"

Steph's hand on her shoulder is comforting, and it sends soft tingles through her skin beneath the fabric of the training jersey.

She has to avoid jerking away from the feeling.

"Fine. Do you..."

She pauses, trying to work out if she wants to even bring Steph into this.

"Is there something up with Y/n?"

Steph hesitates at that, an unsure look on her face.

"Have you noticed it too? She's been avoiding us a bit. It's like that time a year ago. When she..."

Caitlin nods, understanding saturated on her face now.

"Maybe something's happened?"

"It's weird, though. It feels like it's just us she's avoiding."

Steph nibbles at her lower lip nervously, looking around the pitch. She notices, though, that they're not the only ones keeping a close eye on you. Beth is looking over to you every so often, concern laced in her gaze and the way her eyes follow your movements.

It makes sense, though. You'd always been closest with the blonde striker. You'd clicked the moment you'd joined Arsenal four years ago, right before the other two aussies had.

"It's probably just something going on. She'll work it out. She's got Beth looking after her, it seems."

The striker nods and moves to continue the drills, though the worry doesn't ebb at all.

In fact, it only increases the closer to the world cup they get. What were you going to do once the World Cup came around? Maybe they would have to keep an eye on you themselves.

--------------------------

Steph, it turns out, is right. It is just them you're avoiding.

It's the why that has them worried.

Their best friend, their favourite person, was now actively avoiding their presence.

You seemed fine chatting away to everyone else in camp. In fact, they'd found you in cuddle piles with some of the youngins more often than not. Something you'd do with Steph and Caitlin without hesitation normally.

She finds herself missing you more often than not, her heart wrenching itself at the thought of them losing you now.

She thinks back on what she'd realised just a month previously.

It becomes clear that she just has to ignore it if she wants things to go back to normal.

Plus, it has to go away. It's already had her second guessing her own relationship. And Dean's starting to notice her hesitation, too. It has to stop. If not for her sake, then for his and yours as well.

It's just a silly little crush. She has Dean, and she has Caitlin and you as friends. Well, only if she can work out why you're avoiding them.

Meanwhile, you're doing everything you can to push down the pain of not having properly spoken to Caitlin and Steph.

It hurts like all hell to not be near them but you need the time to settle before the opening game, which is creeping ever closer with every hour you spend working out what the fuck you're gonna do.

You can't avoid them forever. You aren't sleeping properly anymore and it's affecting your performance.

Beth has been messaging you constantly, checking up on you, but she hasn't been able to see you at all, given she's still in London doing her rehab. Though she does promise to fly over for a few days to come see you and the girls when she can, knowing the other England girls would want to see her as well.

Unfortunately, she knows you a little too well as well, and she calls out the tiredness in your voice one day, it's 9am and you've not trained for the day, so she knows you have no excuse to be tired yet.

You brush her off, but the mild scolding you get in return is enough to have you spilling the beans.

"Just not sleeping too well is all. I'm fine, Beffy. I'm just adjusting to the environment again. It's been a while since we've been in camp."

"You and I both know that's not the reason. How are coping over there? And be honest with me. I have my sources."

Rolling your eyes slightly, you huff down the phone.

"Your sources need to mind their own business. And I'm fine, I'm serious. I'm taking my time and everything, just like you said."

"I didn't mean to explicitly ignore them altogether either. Steph's worried about you. She's already messaged me asking if you're alright and that you'd been acting weird even before international break started."

"Shit."

"Caitlin, too. Said you've been distant but doesn't wanna scare you away. Y/n, please, for the sake of your sanity and theirs. Just talk to them."

"Beth...."

"I'm serious lovey, you need to talk to them, even if you don't outright say, 'I'm in love with you both', just tell them you're dealing with feelings at the moment. They're missing their best friend, not just you missing them here."

There's a soft knock on your door that grabs your attention.

"Look, I'll think about it-"

"No. Talk to them. I'm serious. I can't play buffer when I'm not there. You need to talk to them. Not me."

"Alright, I'll do it at some point. I have to go, someone's at the door."

"Y/n-"

"Love you, bye."

You hang up with a soft growl of frustration, the knocks on the door getting more persistent now.

"For the love of- I'm coming, calm down!"

Swinging open the door, you're met with a sheepish looking Steph and Caitlin.

Not who you're expecting. But at the same time...

"What's up?"

You keep it calm, not wanting to totally panic now that the exact people you were avoiding are at your door.

"Can we talk?"

Shuffling your feet slightly, you step aside, gesturing for them to come in.

They stand there awkwardly for a minute before you walk up to them, poking Steph in the shoulder lightly with a small smile.

"Stop being weird, y'all can sit down ya know."

A slight smile tugs at her lips and they both chuckle softly, conceding to sit on the edge of the single bed while you pull up the chair, resting one foot on the set, knee pressed up to your chest.

"So what's up?"

They exchange a look for a moment.

"We were hoping you'd tell us that."

Feigning ignorance, you tilt your head slightly.

"About...?"

Steph sees right through you though, a raised brow in your direction.

"You know what about. You haven't spoken a word to us since before we even left london. What's going on? Is something happening?"

You scratch at the back of your neck slightly, head ducking to avoid eye contact that you know will probably mess you up in trying to not confess your undying love.

"Just a small thing... it's not really major. I just figured I had to deal with it on my own for a bit."

"And that includes completely avoiding us and only us?"

Caitlin's words have a bit of bite now, frustration leaking through.

Swallowing softly, you look up at them.

"It's not- You guys know me better than the others, figured if I avoided you both, it would be easier to avoid having a conversation about it."

Steph moves from her spot towards you, kneeling to take your hands, which are now propping up your head on both knees.

"Talk to us Sweetheart, what's going on in that head of yours?"

Feeling tears well up in your eyes, you tilt your head back slightly, not wanting them to streak down your face in front of them.

It hurts so bad. You want to tell them, but you can't risk it.

What you don't see but hear is Caitlin moving to crouch by your side, hand resting on your leg, concerned look making it's way onto her features.

"Talk to us darlin', we just want our friend back."

There it is, the word you hate so much. It makes your stomach drop, and the tears flow freely down your cheeks. Looking down at them, you shake your head.

"I can't tell you that."

A shaky breath wracks your chest and you turn your head away, avoiding the worried blue and brown eyes of the women in front of you.

A hand settles on your chin, bringing you back to look at them.

"Why not? You know you can tell us anything. Please, we just want to make you're alright."

The feeling of their hands on you is overwhelming. Between your heart and your head, everything is racing and feels so heavy.

Standing abruptly, you step back away from them both, moving away from their outstretched hands when they reach for you.

"I just can't."

Cutting Caitlin off before she can say anything else, you move over to the door, opening it.

"Just please leave. I can work it out on my own. I can't tell you just yet, alright? I love you both, but I need to get my head straight before I can talk about it. I'll be fine, just... please...."

Sighing softly, Steph moves towards the door, but not before cupping your cheek softly and kissing your forehead.

"We're here for you. Whenever you feel like talking. Don't forget that."

You nod softly, and she steps out the door.

Caitlin does the same, hand lingering a little longer on your shoulder, though, squeezing softly.

There's something in her eyes you don't quite recognise, but you don't question it as she she leaves, muttering a soft goodbye to you.

Shutting the door behind them, your form slides down the wooden panel, sitting knees to your chest as you rest your head on your knees, listening as their footsteps echo further down the hallway in synchronized steps.

You are such a coward.

Why didn't you just tell them?

Everything would be so much easier.

It would hurt too much to lose them, though.

They'd hate you forever.

You'd ruin everything.

The thoughts running through your head are loud, and they don't leave room for much else, so you do the only you know to try and calm yourself.

You pull out your phone, dialling Beth's number and wait with bated breath.

The moment she picks up, its like it all just blurts out at once.

"Hello?" It's said in a tired voice.

"I couldn't do it!" Choked sobs from your end immediately make the blonde shoot up from her spot in bed, her girlfriends arm suddenly moved from its position around her waist.

"What? Y/n, talk to me."

"I tried to tell them, and I just broke down and told them to leave! They're gonna hate me!"

There's a concerned hand on her arm from a half asleep Viv, and she gives her an apologetic look, mouthing your name to her.

"Oh sweet girl, they could never hate you. God they lovd you way too much to hate you."

"That's the problem. They'll never love me like that. Not the way I do. They'll hate me if I tell them. It's basically a lose-lose situation either way."

It's loud enough that the dutchie hears it from her position behind the englishwoman, and her brows furrow. When had this occurred?

"Babe, what is she talking about?"

"Uhhhh.. gimme a minute." She turns back to the phone.

"Alright, it's okay, you couldn't tell them. I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? You're gonna send yourself into a serious hyperventilation if you don't breathe for me, alright?"

You take a moment to let your chest muscles relax, trying to keep them from constricting in your chest too much.

It doesn't quite work, though, and everything just comes crashing down around you, your sobs just becoming harder.

"I c-cant. It hurts!"

Shit.

"That's okay, I want you to do something for me, okay? Put a hand to your chest for me."

Doing so, you set down the phone, putting it on speaker, knowing the drill by now, having done this many times before.

"Five things you can see?"

Squinting up into the now dark room you scan the place, trying to focus on the various items in the darkness.

"Uh, c-curtains, a chair.... my bed, a pile of clothing... myself in the standing mirror."

"Good, that's it. Four things you can hear."

"You, Viv, my pulse in my ears, the cleaner down the hallway."

"Good, three things you can feel."

Swallowing lightly, you rest your head against the cool wood of the door, allowing it to ground you a little better.

"Cold, the carpet is cold. The wood of the door. Sweaty, and snotty. I feel gross."

Ignoring you joking softly, she continues.

"Two things you can smell, sweets."

Taking one more shaky breath, your pulsd starts to lessen off from its incessant beating in your eardrums.

"Uh, carpet cleaner and Steph's perfume."

"That's it, one more. One thing you can taste."

"The peanut butter cup I ate earlier."

"There you go, take a few more breaths for me."

"Someone want to explain whats going on now?"

Viv's voice sounds from your phones speaker, and you sigh softly. Now another person probably knows.

You hear some muttering over the line followed by a small hum.

"Ah, so you're finally admitting it then?"

Huh?

"Wha-"

"It was kind of obvious, really. You really weren't subtle about it."

Of course, she's right. Who were you kidding? It was so blatanly obvious. It was painful to anyone observing it. You couldn't imagine what the other two might have seen.

"I can tell what you're thinking, sweetheart. As obvious as it is to the rest of us, those two knuckleheads have no clue. Thats on them for not noticing you're struggling."

"That's the problem. They know something up. They came to my room to work out why I was avoiding them, Beffy. They're gonna work it out sooner or later, and I don't think I wanna be stuck around them if they do. I don't want to think about having to witness that. The disgust on their faces because they're own best friend is in love with both of them."

On the other side of the line, Beth and Viv exchange a look, Beth sighs softly, her partners fingers carding through her hair, helping relieve the stress headache she can already feel coming on.

"Love, you need to tell them. I know you're struggling. They could never hate you or be disgusted by you. They love you. And they just need to realise it."

"You and I both know that's not true, though."

The frustration bubbling up in Beth's chest has it spilling from her lips before she can really stop herself.

"It is. You're just too blind to see it. Those girls are obsessed with you. The love in their eyes for you is honestly kind of sickeningly sweet. Too bad you're all too dumb to see it, though. It's so damn obvious to everyone but you. You literally just need to talk to them, please, for the sake of your mental health and ours. Talk. To. Them."

"Okay? Even if that were remotely true. Steph's getting married. There's no way in the world she'd even consider leaving that behind. The man treats her better than I ever could. We're just better off as friends. It needs to stay that way."

"Y/n-"

"No, Beth, I'm done with this. Look. I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

Beths protests are cut off by the click of you hanging up.

Even if she was right, so were you. Steph wouldn't leave Dean. She loves him far too much. He's her safest option, and she knows it.

Caitlin wad a whole other story.

Sure, she's single now. But what makes her any more available to you than Steph? She's still your friend. There's no way she'd want you the way you want them.

Letting your head hit the door once more, you sigh, wondering how the hell you'd fix what you're already damaging.

--------------------------

It starts off slowly. She doesn't even realise she's doing it. Little things here and there.

Picking at the little issues she finds.

Poking and prodding at the soft spots, pushing buttons she wouldn't normally push.

Apparently, it's pretty easy to start fights when you know what buttons to push.

Why? She has no clue.

In her head, though. It's staring her right in the face.

The little comparisons she makes.

You'd never get upset over her leaving her boots in a heaped pile beside the door.

Your cooking was always so much better whenever she went over to your place.

You'd never have left her to find travel home on her own after a World Cup.

In fact, you'd actively made sure she had a ride home, her reassuring (lies) left you feeling relieved that she wouldn't be on her own after the exit the Matildas took at the World Cup.

Whatever it was that had you avoiding them, you'd figured out how to deter it. Returning to conversing with the two brunettes like nothing had happened.

It was a little unsettling how much she noticed you putting on a mask with them.

As hard as you'd tried to fake being fine, she could read you like an open book. Or at least to a fair extent.

For one, your smile never quite reached your eyes, save for the one or two times of victory during the games. The most honest one you give is the win over France.

It was another thing she noticed. She found herself breathing a little easier with you by her side, even with a shell of a smile.

She doesn't push you, though. Not wanting to scare you away again.

Caitlin was very much of the same opinion. Even though you'd stopped avoiding them, you still weren't your usual cheery sunshiney self around them.

The striker doesn't bring it up, though. Only encouraging you with silent smiles of encouragement and occasional soft brushes of her hand against your back, shoulder, or arm when she's next to you.

So Steph does the same. Seeing you both tense but also relax under their, although gentle, not so subtle ministrations.

In the early hours of another chaos filled weekday, mainly filled with silent frustration built up between her and Dean. The latter not knowing what's going on with his Fiancee, he eventually has to poke and prod her enough to spill it.

Though, stubborn as the Australian is, she doesn't give too much, only snapping that she's fine and to let it go.

It sparks an argument that ends up with him storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

It started over a simple question over that nights pumpkin cous cous salad.

It takes her but five minutes of seething to realise what she's starting and why.

She feels sick to her stomach.

She was sabotaging her relationship with Dean.

And for what? A silly crush on her friend?

What the hell is she doing?

-

It's in the early hours of the evening that she gets a text from Dean saying he's at a friend's place for the night and that she needs to cool down and work out what her problem is before he'll return home.

With a defeated sigh, she sends him a sincere apology, telling him she was just frustrated at everything lately and to take the time he needs and that she would work on herself in the meantime.

Not that she does, really. Apparently, she doesn't learn her lesson, instead pushing down the already bottle necked emotions she's experiencing.

She knows it'll blow up in her face eventually. But what can she do? Admit she's secretly in love with you and destroy an already sinking ship of a relationship?

Probably.

But why do that when can sabotage ever having a more peaceful break up.

It seems like she's doom spiralling at this point.

It was a petty fight that blew up. Not that uncommon or that bad that it would suggest either of them should be ready to give up on everything they worked for together.

But that's the thing.

It's taken until she's blown up at him to realise how much they're fighting for it here. All of that pressure to be together. To work out.

To be the perfect it couple.

To want to work out.

It feels like they're both constantly giving 110% but when does the relief come? When do they get their due release. When does it get easier?

She'd thought love was supposed to be easy between two people. For couples to know each other. To read each other without even really trying.

Yet here he was, struggling to realise his own fiancee was falling for another woman.

And that she was letting it happen.

Like an idiot.

The more she ruminates, the more she sees the signs herself.

She's been pulling away from him more and more. Avoiding talking about you, unlike before when she'd bring you up at least once a day to him. Always eager to gush about her best friend like a teenager.

Now, even the remote mention of you leaves twists in her guts, and she has to try and subtly change the subject without letting on that she's hopelessly not in love with him anymore.

Oh.

She's loves Dean.

Right?

No.

Yes.

She loves him.

But she's not in love with him.

Not anymore.

It scares her.

He's always been her safety blanket.

But maybe that's the issue.

He was too comfortable. Too much of a safety blanket. Shielding her from what she should have been acknowledging this entire time.

Maybe. Just maybe.

She's been in love with you this whole time.

That's what scares her the most.

And now that she's finally realising it, she realises there's a conversation to be had.

And feelings she needs to communicate. Even if it hurts both of them. Because in the end, it'll hurt worse if she tries to fight it anymore than she already has. She's already hurting Dean too much by leading him on like this. She can't take it anymore, she has to tell him.

-

Any fairytale story would tell you that it went surprisingly well. That Dean says he knew all along. That he knew Steph was secretly gay and had been waiting for her to tell him so he could comfort her and encourage her to go for the girl. To go for you. To finally acknowledge that those lingering stares from you might mean something.

Unfortunately, this isn't a fairytale.

And he doesn't take it well.

In fact, he's pretty furious when she timidly brings it up.

She doesn't blame him though.

"Are you fucking serious right now, Steph?"

She winces at that.

"You want to ruin what we have because of that bitch?"

Anger flares up in her chest at that, and she shoots to her feet suddenly, coming to your aid despite you being blissfully unaware and not present for this.

Yes she fucked up but he has no right to call you that.

"Don't fucking call her that. This isn't her fault. She didn't do anything wrong. Yell at me, blame me, call me the bitch but do not insult her. Ever."

He chuckles darkly.

"I should have fucking known. How did I not see it? We've been fighting an uphill battle this whole time. All we do is argue, argue, argue at this point. And you don't even try anymore. Fuck, you had a go at me over pasta the other week. You've been finding excuses to insult everything I do. Everything I've achieved. Apparently, I can't even get dinner right anymore. Nothing is good enough for you. Now I know you've just been comparing me to your teammate this whole time."

Her head falls at that.

He's right.

She's been the worst partner to him. There's no excuse.

"Now I know that you've just been lying to me this entire time. And by the looks of it, yourself too."

The following silence as she tries to gather her words only serves to tick him off more.

"Fuck you Stephanie. I hope she treats you well."

The slam of the front door as he grabs his packed luggage and walks out the door with it, taking the last of the relationship with him, makes her collapse back onto the couch.

The tears, the frustration, the anger, at herself more than anything for letting it get this bad. All of it just crashes down on her and for the first time in a long time, she let's her emotions take over and she just cries.

Grieving the loss of a relationship doomed from the start. Grieving the major fuck up on her part.

Crying because she knows it's gone now.

Crying because even if she does end up with you. She's lost a friend in the man she once thought she loved. And that's on her. She knows that.

For now, though, she allows herself to cry it out, knowing the acceptance will take a while to come before she can fully move on from that.

--------------------------

Giggling as you shove Caitlin lightly, her arms tightly wrapping around you and wiping her sweaty forehead all over your face, you blush as she presses a kiss to your cheek with a small wink as she jogs off to the locker room, you following behind with a shake of the head.

It seems you'd finally started to let go a bit. With Caitlin now doing everything in her power to get you to smile daily, you start to let your guard down at your own behest more and more.

It seems easier, though, considering the sudden icyness from a certain defender that has you being pushed into the arms of the striker instead, literally.

It feels like she's latching onto you every minute she can. You can feel the stares from the other side of the training grounds. Feel the burning stare as she watches you with her best friend. The one she's now also trying to grapple whether or not she's falling for too.

You don't pay it much mind during training, but you do attempt to pull Steph out of whatever has her this down suddenly.

Leaving her little notes of encouragement after particularly gruelling sessions where Jonas had let his frustration out pretty badly on her after some major mistakes on her part.

Making sure she's always hydrating during the particularly warmer sessions.

Making sure she's been eating correctly by leaving her homecooked meals on top of her car when she goes to leave for the day.

Making sure she knows you're there even though she never stopped knowing that in the first place.

She'd tried pushing you away to sort everything out, but in the end, you make it a little difficult with the loving you're unknowingly (or maybe knowingly, she doesn't know) giving her. Even in a time when she's trying to make it clear, she wants to be alone.

You and Caitlin don't let her, though.

The forward always grabs the girl by the arm to pair up for training, forcing her to chat way about what's been going on.

She doesn't tell her that she's harbouring feelings. She does tell her that her and Dean have broken up though.

That was a shock to the striker.

She'd thought the woman was perfectly happy, but it seems everything was just bubbling away under the surface.

Caitlin does feel a little guilty for being happy about it, knowing the girl is going through heartbreak and all she can selfishly think about is how she's single now too.

She tells the forward not to tell anyone for now, not wanting to affect the rest of the team with more drama than what usually occurs. Even you, much to the younger brunettes protests.

She doesn't tell you that session.

In fact, it takes her a whole month before you manage to break her walls down enough again to spill the filthy secret she's been harbouring.

"Oh, Steph, I'm so sorry."

Your hug after she tells you is warm. Warmer than she'd realised. The feeling of your arms around her brings a surprising amount of comfort for something that, although she was still grieving, was mostly over with the thought that it's over, that's that.

"S'fine, it was a mess anyways. Both of us were struggling to keep it civil in the end. It was my fault anyway. I just stopped loving him and refused to acknowledge it for so long. It blew up on me."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt either. You're allowed to be upset about it. Sometimes, we can't control how we feel, Stephy."

But oh how right you were.

Despite her scrambling to lock down her feelings and keep her heart from latching itself onto you, it had done so with an eagerness to rival Katie in a no rules match. (Which after a couple weary tackles, had to be vetoed by Jonas and the medical staff).

"I know, jus' can't not feel guilty. I treated him like shit towards the end."

"Steph, from what you've told me, he only fired right back, too. Think about it. He got pissed when you tried to communicate that something needed to change. Maybe it hit a little closer to home for him, too."

What?

Wait a minute.

Oh god.

It wasn't entirely her fault.

It all makes sense now.

That's all it takes for her to finally pick up her phone again to check social media.

And what do you know. He's suddenly got a new girl on his arm, not even a month later.

Now she's pissed. She has every right to be.

Why, you ask?

The new girl on his arm was the clerk at his gym that he ran. The one that he said was only being friendly when Steph got mad about her being flirty.

That asshole.

You can see the thought process play out in her facial expressions, from the moment of realisation to the reaction to it.

"That lying cheating dick."

The evidence?

'Happy Six month anniversary baby'

One title on one post.

She feels so much pressure on her chest drop off with the discovery. Despite the anger, she feels freer than before. The crushing weight of the breakup is now firmly off of her shoulders, and she feels like she can breathe again.

Well, now she can let it all go and not feel guilty about wanting to move on.

Now, all she has to do is work everything else out, too.

"Oh god, he didn't."

Your face is one of concern, and frankly, she just about laughs, the ridiculousness of the situation almost bubbling over. So when she does laugh, you only look more concerned for the brunette.

"He did. I've never felt more relieved, to be honest with you. I felt so damn guilty for ending it the way things did. Turns out he's been screwing his work admin for the past six months. I hope that dick is happy. Those two are perfect for each other."

Despite the situation, you laugh with her, her arm slips around your shoulders.

"So I'm ready to get over it, dunno 'bout you, but I feel like celebrating."

"Ice cream and movie night."

"Absolutely, mind if I let Cait come too?"

"You better."

She grins at the smile that crosses your lips at the mention of the striker.

--------------------------

"Oh my god, I can not believe she let him do that. I swear these chicks are so stupid romance movies."

You groan out at the main character once again, falling for lover boys' false apologies, and Steph and Caitlin chuckle from either side of you, ceramic bowls in hand.

"Babe, it's a romance movie. What do you expect? It's gonna be cheesy and stupid."

Despite your cheeks flushing in the half lit up darkened lounge room in your house, you shake your head.

"Damn, if only she actually knew how to be treated, she might not go back to his dumb butt every time. Woman needs to learn to love herself more."

The pair exchange an amused look over your head, your form slumped into the cushions as they sit sideways on the lounger, arms holding up their heads as they watch you criticise the movie more and more.

What you miss is the shared look of affection over your head, a silent agreement as they both move to press themselves onto either side of you.

-

Cut back to this afternoon after training.

The pair of them had been chatting away, Steph having told Caitlin about your movie night when the striker got a look on her face. Like something clicked.

"So we were thinking- what? What's that look?"

"I just remembered something."

Steph gestures for the girl to continue.

"So.. when were you planning on telling me you ARE in love with Y/n."

Her cheeks flush bright red, and she stumbles over an explanation.

"It's still so fresh.. a-and I wasn't entirely sure and..."

The laugh that escapes the forward has her a little confused.

"Thank god. I thought I was imagining things. You're not the only one, Stephy. She's pretty great, huh?"

"You're not... I don't know, upset that I love her too?"

"Hell no. Steph. Puddin'. Babe. You can't control how you feel and if I'm being honest. I don't mind at all. Like, I kind of like that you do."

Caitlin's cheeks warm, and she looks down, scuffing her boots slightly against the turf.

There's a small pause as Steph observes the forward. She looks around and sees that everyone else has already made their way back towards the change rooms.

"Caitlin..."

The girl looks up again, finding dilated pupils staring back at her and she whines at the look.

"Steph..."

"Can I...-"

"Please."

That's all the indication the older woman needs to tug her into a harsh kiss, hands finding her cheeks.

Hands tangling in her hair make her whimper into the kiss, and a flush creeps up her neck to her ears as their lips slot together easily.

It feels so much softer, but also more passionate than anything she'd ever shared with that piece of garbage.

She practically melts when she feels the other woman's tongue lazily drag across her lower lip, knees just about buckling as the hands move to slip under the edge of her shirt, trailing across the skin of her stomach.

Eventually, they both pull away, gasping and air intermingling their puffed breaths.

"Oh. My. God."

Caitlin chuckles, hands moving back to settle on the woman's jawline.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

Both of them are pressed tightly to one another, allowing their shared warmth to wrap around them, cocooning them for but a few short moments.

"I kept denying how much I realised I was falling for you both."

"Both?"

The hopeful glint in the striker's eye makes her melt further into her, lips grazing hers once again.

"You both made it so ridiculously hard not to. You've always cared more than anyone. And you do so much more than you realise for me, too."

The grin that crosses the strikers face as she leans her forehead against Stephs is mirrored by said woman.

"I may or may not have fallen for you both, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What do you say we go put the girl out of her misery, too? I hate to say it, but we totally missed the way she's been pining this whole time."

"That's an ego boost and a half."

"Like you need it."

An affectionate eye roll.

"Shush you."

And she slots their lips together again once more before sneaking back to the locker room.

-

The feeling of the two of them cuddling into suddenly makes you jump slightly, two hands resting on your stomach, shirt riding up slightly underneath their touch.

"I-... can I help you both? Are you okay?"

Both of their eyes on you makes you shrink in on yourself a little, worried something might be wrong.

"Perfectly fine gorgeous."

"Doing pretty, thanks, baby."

Your cheeks are glowing beneath the light of the television and both of them are still watching you intently.

Swallowing softly, you turn to meet Steph's eye.

"I- Can I tell you two something?"

"Of you can, babygirl."

A nod of affirmation from the striker has you nervously picking at your cuticles.

"It's about why I was avoiding you both back in camp. I was... nervous. I didn't want you to know something so I was trying not to spill it."

A soft chuckle from Steph.

"We know, sweetheart, that part was obvious."

Your cheeks flush a little more.

"And, I might have realised something and I've been scared to say anything. Because you're both my friends, and I don't wanna ruin what we have-"

"We know gorgeous."

"We could tell. You weren't overly subtle. It just took us a while to see it."

You duck your head a little, but a set of two fingers lifts it up by your chin again to face the older of the two.

Immediately, you whimper, spotting the way her eyes have darkened significantly.

"Kiss me. Please."

"With pleasure sweet girl."

And so they do. First Steph, claiming your bottom lip between hers, sucking at it, tugging it and letting it go with a soft pop, before pressing back to you again, hand sliding up under the fabric of your tshirt.

A pair of hands gently pulls you away from the defender, and another pair of soft lips quickly takes your own again, leaving you whimpering into it.

Parting your lips at the now hasty swipe of Caitlins tongue, she slips it into your mouth, moulding with your own, leaving you a forever breathless, whimpering mess. Literal putty beneath their fingertips.

Pulling away enough to speak, your chest rises and falls harshly, but you're beaten to it by the forward.

"We've fallen for you as well, sweet girl. We put off acknowledging it for so long, I don't know about you, but I dont feel like wasting anymore time. Be ours?"

Without a single moment of hesitation, you nod eagerly, quickly pulling Steph back into you, allowing your hands to rest on the nape of her neck and as Caitlin's hands trail up to the hemline of your sports bra, you subconsciously breath a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of several tonne trucks fall off your shoulders again.

They loved you too.

You could cry right now.

But you dont. Instead, you focus on the way they touch you like they'll never get to feel you ever again. You focus on the way they kiss you, stealing your breath away with every lock of their lips to yours.

In the end, you're so glad you listened to Beth for once. And she's very glad when she's you walk into training sporting new hickeys and two hands in your own, followed by mild regret now that you're all disgustingly in love, too.

Deep down, she loves it, though. She loves you, and she's glad you've finally got what you deserve.

--------------------------

She's done, but I'm delirious, so I'll come back and edit tomorrow 😭

[denmark-street]

“I hadn’t intended to show you this. I’m not even sure I should,” Lithgow, 79, says, adjusting his black-rimmed spectacles as he scrolls through his phone. He shows me a text from a friend, a link to an article titled An Open Letter to John Lithgow: Please Walk Away from Harry Potter. The article claims that JK Rowling is “anti-trans” and “attacked trans kids directly, saying ‘There are no trans kids. No child “is born in the wrong body”.’” Meanwhile, over on Lithgow’s normally cheerful Instagram account, there are endless comments from people telling him the same thing — that to act in something connected to Rowling is analogous to donning a Ku Klux Klan hood. Had Lithgow expected this? “No, absolutely not. Of course, it was a big decision because it’s probably the last major role I’ll play. It’s an eight-year commitment so I was just thinking about mortality and that this is a very good winding-down role.” It has not escaped his notice that Richard Harris died while playing the wizard in the films, and Harris’s substitute, Michael Gambon, went not long after hanging up the cloak. But the only concern he had about the fan base, he says, was whether they would accept an American as Dumbledore. But before it was even announced that he had the role he received a text from “a very good friend who is the mother of a trans child, and that was the canary in the coalmine”. Lithgow has played trans and gay characters in the past, but his eyes widen with bemusement at the rage Rowling inspires. “I thought, why is this a factor at all? I wonder how JK Rowling has absorbed it. I suppose at a certain point I’ll meet her and I’m curious to talk to her.” So the criticism didn’t put him off? “Oh, heavens no.”

Meanwhile, Lithgow is still puzzling on something. “No one complained when I agreed to play Dahl, but I’ve received so many messages about JK Rowling. Isn’t that odd?”

[alottiegoingon]

peanuts

lottie matthews x gn!reader

summary: the one where you bring pb&j sandwiches for lottie everyday since you were 9.

warnings: so much fluffiness i might throw up, short silly fic, lottie and reader are childhood friends and secretly in love, no crash, lottie has a bad relationship with her parents, cute little unexpected ending i guess?, english mistakes, not proofread

you and lottie were friends since you were nine years old.

you remember being inside the car with your parents when you moved to new jersey. the roads were bumpy before you could make it to the city of wiskayok. still, you insisted on carrying a book with you during the entire trip, knowing that you would feel nauseous in no time. your parents warned you but, as the quiet and moody kid that didn't want to move, you ignored their advice.

trying to focus on anything else besides your upset stomach, you place the book titled "matilda" by roald dahl, in perfect condition, by your side and decide to enjoy the view outside as the car moves along from the backseat. it wasn't a lifesaver but it was better than feeling your head heavy as you read the tiny words in the paper.

the houses were all the same. boring, lifeless and with a few flowers or bushes outside just to bring some color. what a lame city, you thought. no colorful houses, fun playgrounds or a nice park in sight. but that changed at the exact same moment as you saw lottie's house. a perfect planned garden in the front and impeccably painted walls capable of telling anyone that the house was pretty, yes, but the people living inside of it were superior. liking or not, the house was pretty but not as far pretty as her.

lottie was upstairs in the window of her bedroom when you saw her, you couldn't decide if she was staring outside like she was waiting for something or just watching people go by as if she was trapped inside. either way, she waved at you and, hesitantly, you waved back.

the following years consisted in sleepovers, movie nights and little discussions in the book club you two invented. safe to say that you became best friends almost too immediately.

lottie was a loner when she was home with no one to watch her except for a old lady that worked for the matthew's as a housekeeper or a nanny. you never knew and she was scary. playing pranks on her was almost a daily occurrence and an invention of lottie. like dyeing her clothes pink or switching salt and sugar and watching the distorted face of pure horror and agony in lottie's parents faces during dinner, when they invited you over. you and lottie had to cover your mouth or look down to not laugh but couldn't ever not exchange glances across the table.

her parents knew, of course. "your parents must be waiting for you. it's late isn't it?" was lottie's moms way of telling you to leave. you would say goodbye to lottie and hold her hand extra tight, knowing that the second the door closed behind you, you would hear her parents scolding her. you could see a curious mix between fear and excitement in her eyes when you were about to leave and you thought that that would be the last time she would prank that poor lady, but no. she would always come up with something new. deep down you knew that she was just craving attention from her parents and she would be glad to accept some mean words from them if it meant that they would talk to her instead of disappearing in work.

every day after the pranks were the same. the next morning, you showed up at school with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. one for you and the other one for lottie, of course. maybe it was your way of supporting her as you could. as a nine year old, peanut butter sandwiches were your favorite and you would always eat them if you were feeling sad. you never knew why she would eat it entirely and as fast as she could, kiss your cheek and run away, telling you she was late. it was lunch time and she was nine. what could she possibly be late for?

but the smile on her face exposing her teeth shaped like little fangs every single time she saw you with a simple extra sandwich on hands made just for her, became your new favorite thing in the world.

during your teenage years, nothing changed. almost nothing. lottie was still a loner at home but was kind of a popular girl at school. not like your other friend jackie, but still popular. you and lottie tried for the wiskayok high yellowjackets; a girl's soccer team. you both made it to the team and quickly made some new friendships but nothing as close as what you two had. you were popular as well, sure, but you didn't care about that. it took you a few weeks to realize that jackie was popular because of her personality. you, lottie and other girls were popular because you were on the team.

regardless, after every unsuccessful exam, every bad moment with lottie's parents, every failed practice day, you were right by her side holding a sandwich with silly drawings made out of peanut butter and jelly. despite being best friends, you were both changing. different hair, different ways of dressing, different ways to look at each other. the only thing that never truly changed was the smile on lottie's lips and it was exactly like how you remember from when you were nine.

there was that one day when lottie had an awful day at practice after a fight with her parents last night and she was sitting on the aluminun bench in the locker room. she had her head down and her dark curls styled in low pigtails.

"hi." you sit by her side. she looks up and you notice her red eyes. "hi." she whispers. lottie would never let people see her in vulnerable moments but near you, she wouldn't hide a thing.

"should i go to your house in the middle of the night and dye your parents clothes pink like when we were kids?" your voice was playful but you knew that if the answer was yes, you would happily do it.

you feel your heart beating faster as you hear lottie's breathy laugh and feel proud of yourself for making her happy now. then, in a few seconds, the weak smile faded and the locker room fell into silence.

"do you think i'm a freak?" her words make your heart shatter. lottie would tell you everything, except from that one big secret thing that she was forbidden to talk about by her parents. you never mentioned it after noticing how she would get uncomfortable. or after noticing how her parents would always change the conversation to something else if she was blabbing too much. or when you saw a small orange bottle with pills inside with a label that said "charlotte matthews".

you take a moment to think of something to say until you realize that there was no right thing. lottie just wanted support. she needed your support. "i think you are strong." you say. you knew that she didn't have a choice, she had to be strong. but yet, it was something you admired in her.

"lott, i don't know what is happening and i won't ever force you to tell me. but i know you for years now and i know what you are." she remains quiet but at least she's still looking at you.

"you are so smart. brilliant, actually. you are great at soccer, you have an amazing fashion sense" you joke "a heart of gold."

"and you are beatiful."

lottie says nothing but you can see a subtle spark of relief in her eyes. instead, she hops closer to you and rest her head on your shoulder. you do the same, gently laying your head on top of hers. you were staring at that same old boring blue locker in front of you when you feel lottie's hand grabbing yours. you feel nothing but euphoria when she intertwined your fingers together as your hands were placed between you two.

your smile was so wide that you were actually happy that lottie couldn't see you. and you couldn't see her face as well but something was telling you that she was also smiling while her thumb was Involuntarily caressing your hand. you weren't sure if that was something that best friends did, at least not in such an intimate way. but you were hoping that it meant something more.

you hear steps getting louder and realize that practice was over and the girls were coming to change clothes. unanimously, you two distance yourselves from each other just in time and, taking a quick glance at lottie, you see her face entirely red.

"are you okay, lottie? we were worried. jackie said that she can dismiss you tomorrow." shauna gets closer to you two, touching lottie's shoulder and squeezing it softly in reassurance.

"it's okay. i'm all good." she looks up and smiles at her friend.

you stand up and grab your backpack, pulling out a small paper bag with something unmistakable inside. lottie and shauna look at you and still feeling a bit shaky, you handle it to lottie with a shy smirk and lots of mumble.

"peanut butter sandwich. to make you feel better, you know the drill, right?" you laugh awkwardly and lottie's cheeks that were just going back to its original color, got pinkish again. the same old smile was also there.

"thank you. movie night tonight?" she asks full of hope.

"absolutely. can't wait to watch drew barrymore in scream." you nod excitedly. later that night you would find out that she would only appear in the screen for ten minutes and lottie would make fun of you for that.

after you left, shauna tapped lottie's shoulder to catch her attention. she looked at shauna but her hands were carefully holding the paper bag against her body as if she was taking care of something precious.

"i thought you were allergic to peanuts?" shauna furrows her brows.

"yeah. but it's their favorite."

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Tallulah Bankhead (Lifeboat, Devil and the Deep, The Cheat)— Fierce, outspoken, uninhibited, and witty. An amazing actress who strongly supported civil rights and was unashamed of her sexuality.

Theresa Harris (I Walked With a Zombie, Baby Face, Out of the Past)— Being Black in old Hollywood meant that Harris never reached the heights that her talent and striking looks warranted. In the pre-code Baby Face, she plays the best friend of Barbara Stanwyck’s character, but after the code was frequently pigeonholed into maid roles. Which is DUMB because she always LIGHTS UP THE SCREEN and you cannot see anyone else!

This is round 3 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.]

Tallulah:

please read the personal life section of this woman’s wikipedia. a bisexual (or ambisextrous as she called herself) legend

She was bisexual. About her film The Devil and the Deep she said 'Dahling, the only reason I accepted that part was to fuck that divine Gary Cooper'.

Theresa Harris:

A hard-working black actress, most of her roles were of servants. However, whenever she had a chance she shone. The iconic Baby Face, in which she costarred with Barbara Stanwyck, is one example where her brilliance stood out.

Beautiful smile and her EYES<33

Submitted NYTimes article about Theresa Harris, Lynn Nottage, and representation of Black women in vintage film in general: https://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/24/theater/theresa-harris-a-black-actress-who-left-an-impression.html

Submitted Essence article: https://www.essence.com/news/vintage-vamp-theresa-harris/

Linked gifset

[melien]

CORNELIA ARCHER’S BC (attempt 2.0...)

I announced this BC almost three years ago but overestimated myself with the ambition and just wasn't in a good place mentally in the following months (to put it mildly), but now I feel like I've missed projects like this a lot and am still vibing with the idea of this BC. Also my ts3 is running so much better now, which was one of the initial reasons for cancellation, but now it's a lot easier for me, woo!

Before it got cancelled, I've got a few contestants. I think some of them were given for public download since, but it's really not a problem for me, I can still use them. Right now I'm thinking of still using the same contestants and maybe accepting a few more. I also asked a few people on discord who said it's fine to use the same sims.

In case someone would like to join and make a contestant, let me know under this post or in an ask! The catch of the BC is that the contestant should be based on a song/album (of any artist), as Cornelia herself is very Taylor Swift inspired and is a Lover girlie, actually made on the singer's 30th birthday in 2019 as a tribute sim (she and the winner may even appear in the Lover gen of my swiftacy if I get there hehe) (yes I'm an absolutely hopeless swiftie, all of my saves have some inspo from her) (and what about it).

I don't know how many sims I would accept (11 would be perfect... I'd dress her as one of the eras for every episode). But it would be fine for me if I got less than that, realistically the simblr climate isn't the same as back when BCs were more popular, I guess.

Contestants:

@vintageplumbobs - Lucy Starr

@poisonfireleafs - Laura Oak

@dragonplumbobs - Carson Lake

@cloudberry-sims - Aella Wonders

@tosimornottosim - Ivalace Goldchild

@arogaba - Sara Nix

@berriespunches - Lara Mooney

@blurrypxls - Kitty Lloyd

@bellakenobi - Lilian Pendragon

@kithlien - Laken Dahl

Rules:

Your sim must be YA vanilla or banilla.

All genders are welcome. Cornelia is pansexual.

Occults allowed (except ghosts)

No Irresistible trait, please.

CC is allowed, though don’t go overboard with it. I mostly use Chazy/Poisonfireleafs hair retextures, and I may change makeup and eyebrows to similar ones because I like keeping everything in my style, unless it’s something that makes the sim unique and is a part of them.

No custom sliders, please.

I have all the packs. You may set all outfits for your sim so they can match their color scheme, but it’s fine if you can’t.

Private download, but it's okay if you decide to make it public (to those who already made it public, don't stress).

Please write a bio for your sim. It doesn’t have to be long, just basics of their personality.

The most important aspect of this BC: it’s not a regular one, it’s a music-inspired BC. Therefore, your sim must be inspired by a certain song, music video, artist, or music album - it could be whatever you wish! (absolutely no pressure if you can't think of anything and would just want to make a regular sim, but I just thought it would be a fun prompt)

The deadline for making a sim is September 30 (flexible). The faster I get all the sims, the better, but no pressure!

[lichendykes]

Hi! Just wanted to say your yandere butch Dahl is so hot, I can't stop reading the little blurb you wrote, would you ever want to write another? (Had a crush on my old boss who was a butch lesbian at a crappy customer service job, legit got me through the first few months because i had eye candy at my work lmaooo) so I was obsessed the minute I read it! Love your work, your writing is great!!!

Thank you so much!! Your message is so sweet^^. So lucky to have a butch boss my goodness. I hope this is alright, I need to actually practice writing coherent stuff instead of just stream of consciousness lol.

Dahl is a very loving a devoted partner. She's dated around and had a couple of girlfriends in her life, but you're the first one she's felt a real connection with.

She has a tabby cat named Sweetie and a big mutt (sorta like a Newfoundland in terms of size) named Mocha. The critters are very sweet and warm up to you quickly; Mocha is a lazy cuddlebug and Sweetie's a little queen who surveys her domain from her cat tree.

In the beginning of your relationship, you're kept in her bedroom, though the chain around your ankle is long enough enough to reach the mini fridge, game consoles, books, and attached bathroom by yourself.

Dahl takes at least a week off of work when she takes you home, giving you time to acclimate to her and understand her better.

I imagine her around 15-20 years older than her darling.

Dahl understands why you're scared of her, but she can get a little impatient. She's already proven she can protect you, she's comfortable enough to provide for you, it shouldn't take you too long to accept her.

Dahl won't stop you from working, though she encourages you to pursue whatever career path of volunteering you want.

She enjoys using her strength to carry you around. Early on after she brings you home, she holds you in her lap at mealtimes and while relaxing, seeing it as a nice way to bond.

In Dahl's free time, she enjoys working out at the gym and playing fps style video games. 

Dahl loves taking care of you: packing lunches with little notes, bathing you and washing your hair, picking out clothing, and generally spoiling you rotten<3.

[infinite-criseas]

Remus was on the floor, a pile of course work surrounding him. After losing a bet with James, he now had to do twice the work - one paper being from the more aloof and carefree perspective of his dear friend James of course. Nose deep in The History of Boggarts, Remus’s quill furiously raced across the parchment. His keen focus was abruptly interrupted by the door thudding open and his gorgeous boyfriend rampaging in.

Sirius rammed down the door to the study.

“Moony! Moony! Look at I found!” Sirius sounded like an overexcited puppy bringing back a bone to his master - how fitting. “I was out in hogsmead with James and I found that muggle book you were talking about! The one you told me you read all the time when you were younger”

Remus eyed what Sirius had in his hands, a tattered copy of Matilda by Roald Dahl. He was a little taken aback at first, quickly followed by a warm burst of passion for Sirius holding on to these details of his life.

“I’m surprised you remembered” Remus said fondly, thinking back to that night under the stars when he and Sirius exchanged childhood tales. It was one of those late night/early morning talks after the full moon. Remus’s heart filled with gratitude for friends that no longer made the full moon as terrifying as it once was. Filled with love for a boyfriend who not only accepted him but celebrated who he is as a person. So this is what it feels like to be loved. Remus tackled Sirius into a hug. “Thanks, Pads” he gently spoke into Sirius’s ear.

They lay on Remus’s bed, Sirius’s head on Remus’s shoulder. Arms entangled in warm embrace. Remus read to Sirius as Sirius admired his boyfriend in his natural state. James’ unfinished assignment lay across the room on the floor, watching the two souls be completely and utterly enamored by the other.

[historysurvivalguide]

Roald Dahl, author of books like Matilda and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, lost his daughter to measles in 1962. The BFG is dedicated to her memory

Measles is horribly contagious, and contracting it can lead to blindness, deafness, brain inflammation, and, sadly, sometimes death

The MMR (Measles, Mumps, and Rubella) vaccine is simple and safe and in 1988 Dahl penned a letter, urging parents to have their children vaccinated:

Olivia, my eldest daughter, caught measles when she was seven years old. As the illness took its usual course I can remember reading to her often in bed and not feeling particularly alarmed about it. Then one morning, when she was well on the road to recovery, I was sitting on her bed showing her how to fashion little animals out of coloured pipe-cleaners, and when it came to her turn to make one herself, I noticed that her fingers and her mind were not working together and she couldn’t do anything.

“Are you feeling all right?” I asked her.

“I feel all sleepy,” she said.

In an hour, she was unconscious. In twelve hours she was dead.

The measles had turned into a terrible thing called measles encephalitis and there was nothing the doctors could do to save her. That was twenty-four years ago in 1962, but even now, if a child with measles happens to develop the same deadly reaction from measles as Olivia did, there would still be nothing the doctors could do to help her.

On the other hand, there is today something that parents can do to make sure that this sort of tragedy does not happen to a child of theirs. They can insist that their child is immunized against measles. I was unable to do that for Olivia in 1962 because in those days a reliable measles vaccine had not been discovered. Today a good and safe vaccine is available to every family and all you have to do is to ask your doctor to administer it.

It is not yet generally accepted that measles can be a dangerous illness. Believe me, it is. In my opinion, parents who now refuse to have their children immunized are putting the lives of those children at risk. In America, where measles immunization is compulsory, measles like smallpox, has been virtually wiped out.

Here in Britain, because so many parents refuse, either out of obstinacy or ignorance or fear, to allow their children to be immunized, we still have a hundred thousand cases of measles every year. Out of those, more than 10,000 will suffer side effects of one kind or another. At least 10,000 will develop ear or chest infections. About 20 will die.

LET THAT SINK IN.

Every year around 20 children will die in Britain from measles.

So what about the risks that your children will run from being immunized?

They are almost non-existent. Listen to this. In a district of around 300,000 people, there will be only one child every 250 years who will develop serious side effects from measles immunization! That is about a million to one chance. I should think there would be more chance of your child choking to death on a chocolate bar than of becoming seriously ill from a measles immunization.

So what on earth are you worrying about? It really is almost a crime to allow your child to go unimmunized.

The ideal time to have it done is at 13 months, but it is never too late. All school-children who have not yet had a measles immunization should beg their parents to arrange for them to have one as soon as possible.

Incidentally, I dedicated two of my books to Olivia, the first was ‘James and the Giant Peach‘. That was when she was still alive. The second was ‘The BFG‘, dedicated to her memory after she had died from measles. You will see her name at the beginning of each of these books. And I know how happy she would be if only she could know that her death had helped to save a good deal of illness and death among other children.

[yallthemwitches]

dare i say, a lot of the really bad interpretations of the characters and headcanons, happens when people divorce the english culture and society from the canon material. like draco is supposed to be the archetype of the whiny english posh boy but you have a lot of people romanticizing him as this sauve , tortured misunderstood character. also, a lot of jkr's descriptions have a roald dahl quality- where the good people are attractive but the bad people are ugly. even when reading SWM, a lot of people have no idea what boarding school was like especially in the seventies, let alone thinking how circumstances would exacerbate in the presence of magic.

I wholeheartedly agree!

I know we are all (mostly) adults running in these spaces but we shouldn't lose sight that these books were intended for children so there is a level of hyperbole and fable to many of the characterizations.

I'm gonna out myself here, anon. I have a LOT of beef about how people interpret SWM these days on the internet (mostly twitter). I see lots of people in certain camps throwing around words like assault or sexual harassment and I just....

I think people lose sight of the fact that the WW in canon is sort of treacherous in that whimsical way that I feel is often attributed to childrens lit (especially brit lit). Nevermind that schools are just like that (I mean, when I was a kid, pantsing was definitely still a thing), if we are taking the WW by its literal rules, kids are constantly faced with terrifying, deadly, scenarios on the daily---and that's before you are trying to break the rules and be adventurous. I mean, Harry petrified Neville to leave them alone in book one and in Book 2 some kid is vomiting slugs. The WW and our reality are not working on the same plane of what is acceptable behavior and what's not for an average kid. Did James bully Snape? Yeah, absolutely and that's not cool. But to throw out some of the allegations people are saying on the internet...you guys. C'mon.

To lift from my dear pal @offbeatorbit on twitter: I think Snape saying the wizard equivalent of the N word to Lily was way more of an issue than making Snape eat some soap.

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

So far the scrapped concepts for Billy Batson week have been

Day 3; Billy visiting the 3 Faces of Evil (Sin, Terror, and Wickedness) to keep them company as a courtesy and then cleaning up the memorial statues of the fallen Council, didn’t get to the part where Billy finds a statue of Ebenezer and Sinclair with his parents to make the point of the Rock as a place of mourning for all the wonders of the world lost (including a champions family)

Day 3; Billy, Freddy and Eugene trying to make their own other-world doorways like Darla did in the Shazam mini comics. Planned to have Billys other-world be reminiscent of the 40’s in a nostalgic way with his family, Freddy’s to be one seafaring adventure after the other with his brother, and Eugene’s would be the fluffy rule breaker of the Rule of Three where his is just the Gamelands where he’s the king. Overall lesson to accept reality over fantasy, no matter how tailor made it was made for yourself

Day 3; Billy exploring the Rock and being put off by its silence and lack of life inside or outside it, wondering outside of it onto its ledges to find the nebula of magic whirling around it and seeing a new side to the beauty of the world

Day 5; Superman POV of the JL:U episode with them in the Justice Lords universe while going through Arkham that holds a lot of lobotomized villians, inspired by my musings of “What if Billy opposed the Lords like he did the Regime at the end of Injustice?” and that led to the scene of Superman recognizing the kid sluggishly kicking a ball back and forth between himself and a fellow lobotomized Baby Dahl.

Day 6; Billy and Mary graduating

Day 6; Billy in his capacity as a reporter trying to avoid the terrifying idea of getting pulled into the Wayne/Bat family while at a party for a Wayne/Sivana merger with Magnificus

Day 7; A seemingly normal meet up of Super-Parents to have a less stressful outing with their kids interacting while they talk about raising sidekicks/partners in crime fighting/kids with powers only for Marvel to join the fray for the first time with a Baby Marvel on the hip

None of these are the ones I plan to post, just the other avenues I did have that probably aren’t getting finished after I typed anywhere between 100-1,000 words on em. The only unwritten scrapped idea is CeCe popping in from the 90th century by accident among other successors to other heroes mantels like Terry or Jon with only one of them speaking English that’s 7,000 years off the mark

[skippiefritz]

reqs from @idanit and @beetle-goth (sorry for tags I'll untag if asked ^^;)

long rambly post ahead! Unlike what I normally post but its my account so I can do what I want lol

(This probably isn't the most historical thing I’ve ever written but! I will fix as I work on it more lol)

the implications of Bertie's bachelorhood if he were a bachelorette fascinate me endlessly

I read this post and it gave me brain worms and I've been designing an au around it ever since

In this au it's a complete genderswap with all characters, uncle Alistair (aunt Agatha) becomes more old fashioned sexist to Bertie, not thinking she can take care of herself. (sorry Agatha stans)

Which like. She can't. But it's nothing to do with her being a woman.

Bertie keeps her core character traits, but by merely being a woman living alone in 1920s London, she inherently becomes more independent and rebellious.

She's sneakier about her escapades, still stealing hats off bobby's and the like, but tries to be subtle about it. Emphasis on tries, she's still a Wooster at her core, and thus a very

big klutz.

Bertie is just completely and unapologetically her/himself regardless of gender, for better or for worse.

If humble pie is being served, she will surely go back for seconds every time.

I can picture her leaning very hard into the roaring twenties flapper persona, but still being a homebody at heart. Big of heart, dumb of ass.

The biggest issue of course is the engagements, it’s a lot harder for a woman (particularly one whose family wants her to get married) to get out of engagements. THIS is where the fun new plots come in

Obviously there’s the classic setting up her fiances with other women, so they call it off and marry their true loves. And the occasional making herself seem unsuitable to be married. (though, this would usually backfire, that would make it seem like she needed to be married more, so she had a man to take care of her and make her settle down)

Instead of focusing on making it seem she herself is un-weddable, she (and by she I mean Jeeves) concocts byzantine schemes to paint her potential suitors in the worst light possible, or to make them seem negligible so one family or the other would call it off.

I’ve been working on one such story, I haven't ironed out all the details but it ends with Gussie pushing Bertie into a lake. Of course. (I may make  a comic abt it when done)

Jeeves’ character is fascinating too, I see her being the classic “quiet competent woman who gets shit done”. She would be less respected than m!jeeves, but still far more respected than the average maidservant of her time.

I can see her need for fashion clashing with the maidservant outfits of the time, part of me is tempted to keep her design the exact same and make her a big beautiful butch, but…I know that's probably not how it would go.

Jeeves would wear the classic Maidservant outfit of the time, though I can see her styling it subtly to suit her more.

Her control over Bertie’s wardrobe, while still being “God this bitch has no fashion”, also has an undercurrent of internalized sexism. She’s discomforted by the more risque (by those times) outfits Bertie enjoys wearing, like her flashy flapper dresses and the like.

Of course, she’s also uncomfortable by how attractive she finds her in said risque clothes. (drama!!)

And they end up compromising !!! and Jeeves has a lil arc in learning to accept the new fashion wave and embracing bodies and whatnot.

Their dynamic would essentially be the same, homoeroticism, Jeeves being morosexual, Bertie being endlessly impressed by her.

also because of the ridiculous british nicknames most the characters are referred to the same, they just have diff first names, here's a quick cheat sheet

(I tried to keep them similar and also extremely english)

Reginald Jeeves = Regina Jeeves

Bertam "Bertie" Wooster = Bertha "Bertie" Wooster

Reginald Jeeves = Regina Jeeves

Aunt Agatha/Dahlia = uncle Alistor/Dahl

Augustus "Gussie" Fink-Nottle = August "Gussie" Fink-Nottle

Charles "Biffy" Biffen = Charlotte "Biffy" Biffen

Marmaduke "Chuffy" Chuffnell = Marigold "Chuffy" Chuffnell

Stephanie "Stiffy" Byng = Stewart "Stiffy" Byng (the implications of a man being named Stiffy are. different but Wodehouse had to know what he was doing with that name)

Richard "Bingo" little = Richenda "Bingo" Little

and so on and so forth!

Anyway uh, this went on for a while lol

I’m working on designs for them and will gladly share if asked! But they’re nowhere near done dhjdsh thanks for coming to my ted talk.

I don't know if any of this made sense, sorry if it doesn’t.

also for a bonus here's a quick messy collage I made of f!Bertie