Blanche's Paradise
Oct. 30th, 2016 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: Blanche's Paradise
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy, Ensemble
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
femslashbb: Ghosts
Warning(s): Character Deaths, Future Fic
Word Count: 1,433
Date Written: 28 October 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Are you sure you don't want to come, Ma?" Dorothy asks one more time as she and Blanche are preparing to depart.
Sophia squeezes her husband's hand as she gazes fondly upon her secretly favored daughter. "I'm sure," she tells her. "That slut may -- "
"Ma!" Dorothy shrieks, her voice ringing through the Heavens.
"Sophia," Sal chides gently, patting his wife's hand.
"Hey. Just because I have these now," Sophia returns, flexing her wings, "doesn't mean I don't still call them how I see them. The Lord doesn't like liars."
Dorothy just chuckles and shakes her head. After all these years, she knows there's no winning with her mother when the old woman's mind is made up.
"Come on, Dorothy," Blanche urges, taking her soul mate's hand and giving her own wings a testing flap. She's as accustomed to dealing with Sophia's name calling as Dorothy is. "Let's go."
"You could take Rose with you," Sophia offers.
Dorothy turns to watch their blonde friend somersaulting through the clouds with an array of animals. Dogs bark as they run underneath Rose's hands. Cats mew and lick her. A lone goose honks as a cow leaps through a cloud, following Rose. Dorothy has to grin at the menagerie. Not even Saint Francis has as wide a plethora of animals following him through the Pearly Gates. "I'm not interrupting that," she says, shaking her head and chuckling.
Sophia's stern face seems to melt as she watches Rose. "It's good to see her so happy -- " she starts to say.
"It's Heaven, babe," Sal interjects, squeezing her hand. "What's not to be happy about?"
"Yeah," agrees Blanche, "an' we don't have ta hear any Saint Olaf stories."
Sophia starts to make a comment but sees children flocking toward Rose along with more animals. She shakes her head, her curls, which are red again, bouncing. "I'm outta here." Leading Sal by the hand, she starts passing through clouds, putting as much distance between herself and those kids as quickly as she can. She's raised an entire brood of children. Heaven is no place to have to make her deal with more.
Watching her mother go, Dorothy shakes her head. "She's impossible," she murmurs.
"No, she's not," Blanche says with a wide grin and a twinkle in her eyes. "She's yoah mothah."
"Like I said, impossible."
Blanche laughs. "Come on," she says, tugging on Dorothy's hand, and drops from the clouds.
=^.^=
On the ground below, night has fallen, and the waves gently lap the white shores of Miami. They land smoothly upon bare feet on the cooled sand. Mankind can not hear the music they hear, but the soothing lapping of the waves, the distant cries of night birds, the gentle lilt of the breeze, and the sounds of harps, flutes, and other instruments drifting down from above all come together to make a beautiful serenade.
In life, Dorothy knew not to touch Blanche in public, but she doesn't hesitate now to take her in her arms and begin to dance with her across the sands. Blanche was always terrified of what men would think of her if her secret love affair with another woman was ever discovered, but in death, all that truly mattered was love and happiness. There's no one here to see them, and even if the humans who normally combed the beach at night had not been away at various Halloween parties, there would still be no one to see them. They could look right through the happy, loving couple and never spot them.
Yet there are those who know they come on occasion at night to Blanche's favorite shore. Sophia used to tease her about being every sailor's favorite port. Blanche truthfully did meet a good number of the young men here. She liked to brag that her loving was often their favorite memory to hold through as they fought in wars, but she did make a legend for herself in more ways than one.
Like every favorited lover throughout history, such as Cleopatra, Bathsheba, and Catherine the Great, Blanche's legend has been passed down through the decades. Old men thought of her with fond smiles. While she was alive, boys often flocked to her to make them men. Guys came from all over to dance closely with her in her boudoir. But now, none of them can see her.
At least, tonight, they can't see her. There have been times she's been spotted haunting this beach. Ghost hunters come to Miami now just to explore her legend, but just as when she lived, when doesn't want to be found, she isn't found. Still, they often find her footprints upon the sand, and when they do, it's never just her footprints they find.
Blanche sighs happily, causing the breeze to rise, as she lays her head upon Dorothy's shoulder. They sway together to the music only they can hear. Dorothy rests her chin gently upon Blanche's silky hair as they waltz in circles across the shore. The fact that Blanche would never do this with Dorothy while they were alive isn't lost on the former English teacher. After a long moment, she asks softly, "Do you miss it?"
"Miss it?" Blanche asks, looking up in surprise. "Miss what, Dorothy?"
She shrugs one shoulder. "Being alive, having the men flock to you, having them fall over each other trying to please you -- "
Blanche starts to grin at the fond memories Dorothy's words invoke, but then her smile fades a little as she grows serious. Gazing directly up into her beloved's eyes, she answers earnestly, "No."
"Are you sure? You don't -- "
"Ah'm sure. Dorothy, Ah may have enjoyed pleasin' men, but they nevah kept me pleased for long." Her fingers thread a little more tightly through hers. Her free hand moves from her waist to cup her cheek in a loving embrace. "Not like you do. You strive to keep me happy, an' you have for so long now. Ah'm sorry Ah didn't see it when we were alive. Ah'm sorry Ah didn't give you more o' a chance to prove you could keep me happy." Her smile turns wistful as she adds, "Ah can't help thinkin' Ah would've been a lot happier if Ah had."
"Do you mean that?" Dorothy puzzles aloud.
"Every word," Blanche vows softly, gazing up into her eyes. She leans up on her tip toes and presses her lips to hers. Dorothy would like to think she would have kissed her like this in public had they lived a few more years, but she knows she never would have dared been bold in person. Their kiss is just beginning to deepen when a fog horn blows.
They look up, parting slightly, as a bright light cascades upon them. They've been dancing for hours. The fog has rolled in, and the ship almost missed the dock. "Ahoy there!" the ship's Captain calls out, but instead of turning her gaze toward the strong and sturdy voice of the seafaring man, Blanche kisses Dorothy again there in the light of his ship. She kisses her long and deep and doesn't stop until they've long since been out of the Captain's vision.
Tomorrow, he'll tell the tale of seeing two women dancing close on the white shore of Miami Beach. Tomorrow, their footprints will be found. Tomorrow, fans of the legendary Blanche Deveraux will comb the beach. Tomorrow, ghost hunters will find traces of what they think is ghosts, never realizing that it's two Angels who came to dance together when the veils were thinnest on Halloween night.
Tomorrow, Blanche's legend will have a new chapter added, but she doesn't care. Let them know she loves a woman. Let them know that a woman pleases her in the afterlife greater than any man was ever capable of doing while she still breathed. Let them know this legendary lover has found her eternal joy with a love of her own gender. Blanche beams as she determines to let the truth be known at last.
Laying her head again upon Dorothy's shoulder as they dance higher together into the night air, Blanche croons, "Ah love you, Dorothy Zbornak."
"And I love you, Blanche Deveraux," Dorothy returns, her heart soaring even higher than they can. Soon, they'll be back in Heaven officially, but Dorothy is already there. There can be no grander Heaven, after all, than being loved in truth and full by the woman she's loved all these years. "For now and forever."
"Amen." They kiss again as they soar together back to Paradise.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy, Ensemble
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:
femslashbb: GhostsWarning(s): Character Deaths, Future Fic
Word Count: 1,433
Date Written: 28 October 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Are you sure you don't want to come, Ma?" Dorothy asks one more time as she and Blanche are preparing to depart.
Sophia squeezes her husband's hand as she gazes fondly upon her secretly favored daughter. "I'm sure," she tells her. "That slut may -- "
"Ma!" Dorothy shrieks, her voice ringing through the Heavens.
"Sophia," Sal chides gently, patting his wife's hand.
"Hey. Just because I have these now," Sophia returns, flexing her wings, "doesn't mean I don't still call them how I see them. The Lord doesn't like liars."
Dorothy just chuckles and shakes her head. After all these years, she knows there's no winning with her mother when the old woman's mind is made up.
"Come on, Dorothy," Blanche urges, taking her soul mate's hand and giving her own wings a testing flap. She's as accustomed to dealing with Sophia's name calling as Dorothy is. "Let's go."
"You could take Rose with you," Sophia offers.
Dorothy turns to watch their blonde friend somersaulting through the clouds with an array of animals. Dogs bark as they run underneath Rose's hands. Cats mew and lick her. A lone goose honks as a cow leaps through a cloud, following Rose. Dorothy has to grin at the menagerie. Not even Saint Francis has as wide a plethora of animals following him through the Pearly Gates. "I'm not interrupting that," she says, shaking her head and chuckling.
Sophia's stern face seems to melt as she watches Rose. "It's good to see her so happy -- " she starts to say.
"It's Heaven, babe," Sal interjects, squeezing her hand. "What's not to be happy about?"
"Yeah," agrees Blanche, "an' we don't have ta hear any Saint Olaf stories."
Sophia starts to make a comment but sees children flocking toward Rose along with more animals. She shakes her head, her curls, which are red again, bouncing. "I'm outta here." Leading Sal by the hand, she starts passing through clouds, putting as much distance between herself and those kids as quickly as she can. She's raised an entire brood of children. Heaven is no place to have to make her deal with more.
Watching her mother go, Dorothy shakes her head. "She's impossible," she murmurs.
"No, she's not," Blanche says with a wide grin and a twinkle in her eyes. "She's yoah mothah."
"Like I said, impossible."
Blanche laughs. "Come on," she says, tugging on Dorothy's hand, and drops from the clouds.
=^.^=
On the ground below, night has fallen, and the waves gently lap the white shores of Miami. They land smoothly upon bare feet on the cooled sand. Mankind can not hear the music they hear, but the soothing lapping of the waves, the distant cries of night birds, the gentle lilt of the breeze, and the sounds of harps, flutes, and other instruments drifting down from above all come together to make a beautiful serenade.
In life, Dorothy knew not to touch Blanche in public, but she doesn't hesitate now to take her in her arms and begin to dance with her across the sands. Blanche was always terrified of what men would think of her if her secret love affair with another woman was ever discovered, but in death, all that truly mattered was love and happiness. There's no one here to see them, and even if the humans who normally combed the beach at night had not been away at various Halloween parties, there would still be no one to see them. They could look right through the happy, loving couple and never spot them.
Yet there are those who know they come on occasion at night to Blanche's favorite shore. Sophia used to tease her about being every sailor's favorite port. Blanche truthfully did meet a good number of the young men here. She liked to brag that her loving was often their favorite memory to hold through as they fought in wars, but she did make a legend for herself in more ways than one.
Like every favorited lover throughout history, such as Cleopatra, Bathsheba, and Catherine the Great, Blanche's legend has been passed down through the decades. Old men thought of her with fond smiles. While she was alive, boys often flocked to her to make them men. Guys came from all over to dance closely with her in her boudoir. But now, none of them can see her.
At least, tonight, they can't see her. There have been times she's been spotted haunting this beach. Ghost hunters come to Miami now just to explore her legend, but just as when she lived, when doesn't want to be found, she isn't found. Still, they often find her footprints upon the sand, and when they do, it's never just her footprints they find.
Blanche sighs happily, causing the breeze to rise, as she lays her head upon Dorothy's shoulder. They sway together to the music only they can hear. Dorothy rests her chin gently upon Blanche's silky hair as they waltz in circles across the shore. The fact that Blanche would never do this with Dorothy while they were alive isn't lost on the former English teacher. After a long moment, she asks softly, "Do you miss it?"
"Miss it?" Blanche asks, looking up in surprise. "Miss what, Dorothy?"
She shrugs one shoulder. "Being alive, having the men flock to you, having them fall over each other trying to please you -- "
Blanche starts to grin at the fond memories Dorothy's words invoke, but then her smile fades a little as she grows serious. Gazing directly up into her beloved's eyes, she answers earnestly, "No."
"Are you sure? You don't -- "
"Ah'm sure. Dorothy, Ah may have enjoyed pleasin' men, but they nevah kept me pleased for long." Her fingers thread a little more tightly through hers. Her free hand moves from her waist to cup her cheek in a loving embrace. "Not like you do. You strive to keep me happy, an' you have for so long now. Ah'm sorry Ah didn't see it when we were alive. Ah'm sorry Ah didn't give you more o' a chance to prove you could keep me happy." Her smile turns wistful as she adds, "Ah can't help thinkin' Ah would've been a lot happier if Ah had."
"Do you mean that?" Dorothy puzzles aloud.
"Every word," Blanche vows softly, gazing up into her eyes. She leans up on her tip toes and presses her lips to hers. Dorothy would like to think she would have kissed her like this in public had they lived a few more years, but she knows she never would have dared been bold in person. Their kiss is just beginning to deepen when a fog horn blows.
They look up, parting slightly, as a bright light cascades upon them. They've been dancing for hours. The fog has rolled in, and the ship almost missed the dock. "Ahoy there!" the ship's Captain calls out, but instead of turning her gaze toward the strong and sturdy voice of the seafaring man, Blanche kisses Dorothy again there in the light of his ship. She kisses her long and deep and doesn't stop until they've long since been out of the Captain's vision.
Tomorrow, he'll tell the tale of seeing two women dancing close on the white shore of Miami Beach. Tomorrow, their footprints will be found. Tomorrow, fans of the legendary Blanche Deveraux will comb the beach. Tomorrow, ghost hunters will find traces of what they think is ghosts, never realizing that it's two Angels who came to dance together when the veils were thinnest on Halloween night.
Tomorrow, Blanche's legend will have a new chapter added, but she doesn't care. Let them know she loves a woman. Let them know that a woman pleases her in the afterlife greater than any man was ever capable of doing while she still breathed. Let them know this legendary lover has found her eternal joy with a love of her own gender. Blanche beams as she determines to let the truth be known at last.
Laying her head again upon Dorothy's shoulder as they dance higher together into the night air, Blanche croons, "Ah love you, Dorothy Zbornak."
"And I love you, Blanche Deveraux," Dorothy returns, her heart soaring even higher than they can. Soon, they'll be back in Heaven officially, but Dorothy is already there. There can be no grander Heaven, after all, than being loved in truth and full by the woman she's loved all these years. "For now and forever."
"Amen." They kiss again as they soar together back to Paradise.
The End
