Golden Girls Memorial Drabble Tree

[lunabee34]

As I'm sure you all saw last week, Betty White is the last Golden Girl standing now that Rue McClanahan has passed away.

Fanfic for this show pretty much does not exist (as thelastgoodname can attest), and that's just wrong. Wrong, I say!

So if you love Blanche, Rose, Dorothy, and Sophia half as much as I do, let's change that 100 words at a time!

Femslash, gen, het, slash, whatever you want to write--as long as it celebrates these wonderful characters!

Please signal boost, says the girl with the tiny flist. :)

Comments

[lunabee34.livejournal.com]

One thing is absolutely crystal clear for Blanche Devereaux. Scarlett O'Hara most certainly did not hold hands with Melanie Wilkes underneath the cool shade of a magnolia grove whether she had a hankering to or not, and so Blanche won't thread her fingers through Edna Mae Thompson's and press their sweaty palms tightly together even though Blanche definitely has a hankering.

Blanche likes men, always has, but sometimes she wants to put her hands on skin as soft and cool as an azalea blossom, wants to kiss a mouth as red as a cardinal's wing and sweet as pear preserves.

Blanche meets George when she's a teenager. He's kind and smart and handsome as sin, and by the time they've got little ones leaving grubby handprints on everything, Blanche has mostly convinced herself that she never wanted to press her lips to the hollow of Edna Mae's throat.

Blanche does such a good job of forgetting that she's shocked at the fierce twist of desire she feels when she meets Dorothy. Dorothy is tall and confident, funny and wry. She's strong and stalwart and so very much Blanche's type that Blanche is nearly giddy with the need to touch her.

One night after everyone else has gone to bed, Blanche can't sleep. She walks out onto the porch and is startled to find Dorothy curled up on a chair reading.

"Can't sleep either?" Dorothy says, closing her book.

"No." Blanche sits beside her and watches the moonlight on the lawn for a moment. She can smell flowers and Chanel Number Five and Dorothy's White Shoulders in the night air.

Blanche almost jumps out of her skin when Dorothy slides her fingers underneath Blanche's hand on the armrest. She looks over, shocked, but Dorothy is smiling the most beautiful smile Blanche has ever seen. Blanche smiles too and curls her fingers around Dorothy's, holding on tight while the moon arcs across the sky.

[zillah975]

Oh, yay!! I love this. This is gorgeous.

[lunabee34.livejournal.com]

*beams*

Girl loving, FTW!!

[ilyena_sylph (from livejournal.com)]

Oh. Beautiful. Wonderful.

[lunabee34.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much.

[gloss]

Oh, lovely. *Lovely*.

[lunabee34.livejournal.com]

*glee*

Thank you!