#devorah did

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

Me: This time my Tav Saulus gets the sexy Wavemother's Robe! 😁🔥💦👏🏻 Can't wait for her to look sexy and not only wearing heavy armour!

*remembers Redhammer hast to die for that*

Me: Oh...I think she is not going to wear it this time again.

Tav Saulus: Oh 😔 It's ok.

Astarion from the off: When it comes to me you don't have to wear anything at all, darling! 😏

[anonymousdandelion]

This week in Cool Facts Dandelion Should Have Known Already: the Vilna Shas (the standard edition of the Talmud and commentaries that is still used today) was compiled and produced under the direction of a valorous woman named Devorah Romm.

[judasiskariot]

Oh my Lolth and Loviatar my girl is in a fanfiction! 😱🤯🤩

🥹 And...you...changed it into her name 🥹 I am NOT crying 🥺😢🥹 You are!

*sniff sniff* 🤧🥹🥰

🤍💜🩵🩷❤️🌊🌌🔮🌌🌊❤️🩷🩵💜🤍

I still can't believe it. It is so BEAUTIFUL!

I just love how the story came out...and this in so many ways, as you know 😊 You wrote her story without even knowing her...this is... i call it a little bit fate bonding 😉 Believe me, like it or not, you will always have a special place in Devorah's heart now 🤍

Tender and Tired

So, me and @judasiskariot got chatting and with it came a prompt that I was given the OK to work on ^^ - So, of course, I did and somehow ended up writing the story of Devorah (she's so beautiful!) which was one of her Tav's. An amazing experience writing this and I'm just so glad you enjoyed it and am letting me share her with the world. <3

Prompt - "And of course combine angst and smut! 😆 also like...maybe... 🤔 fear of losing someone/fighting for their life and than survive, comforting after horror and rescue and relief sex because happy ending and reveal the feelings that they had not done before and almost never had the chance?"

Word Count - 3734 Words - CW - Angst / Pining / Smut - (Blowjob) - Happy ending ;)

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’s wrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered.

---

Devorah lay within the forest, Astarion’s cool arms draped over her bare chest as the stars glistened above them in the night sky. Her eyes followed each constellation, a path home should she ever find herself truly lost, but could those same stars lead her to what her heart truly desired? These passionate nights had been ‘fun’ just as he’d promised, bodies entwined, the piercing bite to her neck leaving her tiptoeing the path between life and death. All she had to do was let go, just as he did, and yet, just like him, her mind was always elsewhere.

“You sleep less than me,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck, planting an icy kiss upon her soft skin.

“Hm. Difficult to sleep when we don’t know what’s ahead of us.”

He dragged a fingertip across her naked breast, causing her to suck in a breath in expectation. “I find it more difficult to sleep knowing what lies behind me.”

Devorah moved her body weight so she could face him. His cherry tinged eyes held an insatiable hunger but behind them a depth that would creep out, a bound child locked in darkness, scared of the burning light. She had heard the nightmares through the tadpole, seen the face of Cazador, felt the words of pure loathing spat at Astarion through the pinhole opening of an entombed prison. Anything ahead would be better than what he’d left behind.

“I guess I just hope for a future. You know marriage, romance, love…” she sighed. “But with the tadpoles, what if they-”

Astarion interrupted her, knowing where she was going with her questioning. “Then I’d kill you, just as you would kill me. We would both die long before that happened.” He lifted his head to be above her, their current position a little too emotionally intimate for his liking. “A much more pleasant run around the second time, I’m hoping.”

“Death? Or were you thinking of something else?” Devorah gave him a playful smirk, her hand running up the side of his pale-skinned abdomen.

“And here I thought I was the insatiable one.”

Love would have to wait, she decided, as once again she lost herself in the illusions of a near-death fantasy.

---

“Not relaxing in the comfort of another’s arms this evening, my dear?” Gale asked, not lifting his eyes from the pages before him.

Devorah scowled at him as he sat upon a woollen blanket near his tent. Obviously, the petty argument between her and Astarion had been heard. Nothing serious, but another bickering over a ritual she knew was too dangerous to commit to. Of course, he wanted that kind of power; who wouldn’t? But seven thousand souls were far more than she would allow to rest on her conscience.

“No, if you must know,” she said curtly, her mood still a simmering anger beneath the surface.

Since arriving in the Shadowlands, her passionate relationship had been affected by the surrounding curse. At least that was her only explanation for what was going on between her and Astarion. Their nights together were more of just scratching an itch with one another than enjoying each other’s company. Their conversations had dwindled to a couple of words, and the sniping and cattiness was becoming almost nightly. It had to be the curse. It was certainly not the way her attention kept being pulled by the deep brown eyes of her warm-blooded companion, one who spoke with the lilt of a poet, one who made her heart beat with a warmth seen only in Karlach.

Gale lifted his head, noting the aggression in her tone. “Do you want to discuss it?”

Devorah noted the space next to him, the way he placed his book aside with all his attention dedicated to her. “Honestly, that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“They why not simply sit and enjoy a moment of silence with me?” He lifted his hand and with it, the world grew quiet. There were no longer the groans of the cursed creatures in the distance, the crackling of the campfire was now but a dance of light and shadow, and Devorah for the first time in what felt like an age could hear her own thoughts without interruption of the outside world.

She sat beside him before closing her eyes and breathing deeply, noticing the lack of sound that came out as she exhaled. It was strangely comforting, a glimpse of death before darkness truly fell. She felt as Gale pulled himself closer to her, sharing his warmth and life, something she had missed in the arms of her lover. Her shoulders relaxed, her heartbeat calmed as if she were about to fall asleep, and for a moment there was no tadpole, no looming death over their heads.

Opening her eyes, she saw his soft gaze upon her, noticed the chestnut strands of hair that wisped upon his brow. If it wasn’t for the subtle ache in her neck, a reminder of nights gone, she knew she would have kissed him in that moment, a future of conjured peaceful moments filling her with longing.

But just as there was no sound, there were also no kisses on warm lips that night.

---

Days and nights passed where both Devorahand Gale denied what was happening between them. The hidden glances across flames, the brush of hands together in passing, a night under illusionary stars where both had dared not think of a bleak future. Neither would speak up about what was occurring, of the times where both found calm just in each other’s company. He would simply watch as she vanished into her lover’s tent, leaving him alone to wonder if things could have been different if he were different. And she would not speak of the nights of lying in cold arms, dreaming of a future she would never have, if only she had made different choices, if only she too were different.  

---

With the setting of the sun, the docks shone as if aflame, a low hung dust filling the air from the destruction of the city. Alone stood Devorah, her mind quiet, her heart slowed, her wishes of love buried under remembrance of her recent dance with Death. Now, with the Netherbrain defeated, her companions had dispersed, leaving her with only the tangled threads of fate and no clear path ahead. She looked out over the water; the portal having just vanished before her with the lives of her friends. She could see the scorch marks of Karlach’s departure, blackened and ashen, upon the boards beneath leather boots, a reminder that the God of Death could be beaten if only you were willing to fight for it, if only you kept the people you loved at your side.

As they’d left the Shadowlands, Devorah had spoken at length with Astarion about his own ideas of their ‘love’. It was all so complicated, many a vulnerable moment shared and considered, and both knew in their hearts that nothing good would come of remaining together. Instead, they left with growth and loss. Friendship had been the overall outcome of the discussion, and it was that which he certainly needed if he were to heal. She welcomed this, but deep down mourned what she had missed out on: not what she could have had with him, but what she’d given up on being with him in the first place.

Now, as the sun slowly descended across the skies of the Sword Coast, she thought of the one she knew she loved, the one she had let leave to save them both the heartbreak. The waves licked the pillars beneath her and with the exhaustion of victory came the further stirrings of her mind. A realisation that despite everything they had been through together, she had ended up alone. Shadowheart, Karlach, Wyll, all to Avernus in one fell swoop, Astarion fleeing as the sunlight cracked his porcelain flesh. And Gale…

Devorah sighed, remembering the few words he had spoken to her after all had happened, how the familiar sight of pain had clung on to him despite the orb’s stabilisation so long ago. He’d bid his farewells and sluggishly walked towards the city, his steps heavy, much like her own. So much went unsaid, so many glances at one another’s lips ignored, so many masks and walls to avoid hurting each other, just as they’d been hurt in the past.

She left the docks, a sense of weariness motioning her forward. Wine upon her lips was all she could think of, a scarlet swirl as it would pour into the glass, much like the trail of blood that lay upon the cobbles, a trail from the spot Gale had said his farewells. It took a moment for her mind to catch up with the sight, a realisation that his pain was not simply Mystra’s unfair consequences but that of something severely wrong and a man who would never wish to be a burden to another.   

Her slow steps upon the stones of the streets soon became a hurried pace as spattered traces of blood grew to crimson pools down shadowed alleyways. Her body ached with each quickened turn around the corners, but it mattered little as panic filled her lungs with the images of what she would find. If she had allowed him to leave with nothing but a simple goodbye, for him to then die alone… If only she had taken a chance, refused to lose herself in the cool embrace of another, then maybe she too could have beaten the God of Death with her loved one at her side. She rushed through groups of survivors, knowing she had to find him, hoping that he had not drawn his last breath and been taken from her for good.

---

It was in a small dimly lit room at the Elfsong Tavern that she found him; his purple robes tossed aside with little regard for where they landed, now stained with the blood from his own hands. He sat exhausted at the foot of the small bed, his fingertips sticky with coagulated blood and fumbling with the ties of his shirt as he tried to get to the wound and see the damage.

She was quickly upon him, moving his hands aside with ease, feeling the way he tried to prevent her from helping.

“It’s nothing, my dear,” he weakly spoke. Colour had drained from his cheeks, his normal slight tan now growing close to that of Astarion’s pallor.

“Don’t bullshit me, I’ve got eyes.” She tugged at the strings that had become knotted throughout the day, wishing he could have just worn buckles like the rest of them. “What even happened? Why didn’t you say anything? How could you…?” She was growing emotional with each second that passed, fear taking over. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, lose him.

He gripped her arm, the shades of red transferring to her own shirt. “A cultist as we climbed the tower. I didn’t notice…” His words were growing slower, quieter as the light faded from his eyes.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’swrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered. His eyes grew heavy in front of her, his breaths slowing to quiet gasps. She gave up on the shirt, instead pressing her hands to the wound, the whispered prayer finally emerging with the faint glow under her fingertips. It wasn’t much, but it would keep him with her and for that, at least, she was thankful.

---

It had taken all Devorah’s strength to get Gale into the bed after he had lost consciousness. She’d managed the healing spell to keep him stable but knew with no potions available and her own spells limited to speaking with animals, speaking with the dead, anything but something useful, she’d struggle to get him back on his feet. She finally untied his shirt, revealing his chest beneath it, the dried blood staining his skin to a deep pink. The bleeding had thankfully stopped with the spell, but the remnants of the incident remained. She peeled back the fabric, finding the wound to his side, the deep cut that would surely leave a scar upon his pristine flesh.

Taking a cloth and a bowl of warm water, she perched herself on the edge of the cotton bedsheets next to him. Her voice was quiet, not wanting to wake him, but hoping that on some level he might hear her and find comfort. “Gale…Whatever are we going to do with you?” The cloth took some of the staining from his skin and she gave a gentle smile, seeing his normal colour slowly returning to him.

She took in a deep breath as she worked, relieving the tension in her shoulders. As she placed the cloth in the bowl, she saw as the water turned a murky red. “I always thought that if me and you got together, the first time I’d see you with your shirt off would be after too many glasses of wine and some of that poetry you dabbled in.” The cloth was wrung out before being placed back on his skin, a rogue drop of water running down the side of his stomach onto the bed.

“Always quite liked your poetry… Made me feel alive…” She chuckled to herself quietly. “Sorry, poor use of words there.” Devorah looked over her work, the way his wound was still angry but now no longer running the risk of infection. She’d need to collect some potions, but at least he wouldn’t die whilst she was away. Or at least she hoped he wouldn’t. Placing the damp cloth and bowl to the side, she glanced over at him before standing to leave. “Gale,” she hesitated. Would he hear her words? Were they worth saying when death still skulked in the shadows? “Nevermind… Just, don’t go anywhere.”   

---

It was hours before Gale woke again, his colour back to normal and the wound mostly healed. He felt the sting on his side, the ache of his muscles as he tried to pull himself up on the bed to sit up and gather his surroundings. Trying to retrace his steps proved difficult as he thought back to the docks and the winding trek to the tavern.

“You shouldn’t be trying to move, you know.”

He looked around for the voice; the world spinning a little with the movement. “Devorah?”

She approached him, a glass of cold water in her hand. “Yeah. How’re you feeling?”

“Like one that has been caught in the cascade of a Bibberbang explosion.”

She smiled at his answer. “Well, you’re still as articulate as ever.” Devorah passed him the water, her fingertips lightly brushing his as she handed over the glass. “Here, drink this. It’ll get rid the aftertaste of the potions.”

Gale had been curious what the obscure taste was upon his tongue, one of balsam and berries, sickly sweet. He grasped the water, savouring it in his mouth before swallowing and letting out a satisfied exhale. “You saved me.”

“It was just water,” she replied, dodging his true meaning, averting her gaze from him. His gratitude was not something she wanted. She would have walked through flames if it meant him living. She would have taken the orb from his chest and imbedded it in her own if it meant he could go on with his life.

“We both know that is not what I speak of. Devorah-”

“Gale,” she interrupted

“I love you.”

She lifted her head instantly, a hint of confusion on her face. “What did you say?”

He smiled softly, his fingertips raising up beneath her chin. “Something that I should have said to you many moons ago.” He should have said it under conjured starlight, or before they entered the High Hall. He should have said it with every breath that escaped him. “Devorah, I love you.”

For a moment she was speechless, her own words trapped in her throat as if saying them would dispel the illusion before her. They replayed in her head, the sweet melody of his voice once again calming her soul as he had done so many times before. The God of Death had once again been beaten. The tiptoed path upon a near-death precipice halted as a choice was made, as the love she had once dreamt of under glistening stars became finally within her grasp. “I love you too, Gale,” she whispered.

Warm lips found one another; the taste of healing potions shared between them, as a buried yearning was released. As Devorah moved herself on to Gale’s lap, he let out a soft groan.

“Careful, my love…”

Tender kisses were placed down his neck, down the weaving trails left by the orb. She traced her fingers gently down his body, each one working as if he were the rare tomes of a forbidden library. She could smell the traces of ink from his books still upon him, as if he still stood in his tower in Waterdeep. Each touch of his skin upon lips brought her a fresh wave of life that she had never felt before, a new longing for more of him. She would not lose herself; she would find him, and she would be with him in full.

Her kisses worked further down his body, through the soft bed of chest hair, her legs shifting down until she was sitting in front of him. “Let me love you, as you deserve to be loved.”

There was a moment of hesitation from Gale, his need to serve, his need to give, trying to burst through. He wanted to provide her with everything he’d been unable to, to make up for lost nights where he’d watched her depart too many times. He saw the love in eyes, felt as her hand trailed up his inner thigh, his touch starved body reacting with little regard for what his mind’s opinion was. All he could do was give a tentative nod.

Devorah’s hands came to the drawstrings of his trousers, a slow tug of each as she looked into his eyes. “Lie back, relax.”

Gale slid down slowly on the bed, his head still resting on the headboard to watch her. “Easy for you to say.”

She playfully smiled, pulling at his trousers and looking concerned as he winced with the rise of his hips. “Still in pain?”

“Nothing I’ve not felt before.”

“That’s not how it should be, though.” She ran her hand along his leg, a comforting palm to ease his nerves.

He sighed deeply with the sensation of her hand; his body exposed to her completely. There had been no wine, no poetry or charm for this moment. This was simply what she wanted to do, and he was struggling to accept that she could ever want this with him. As her flushed lips caught the skin of his stomach, he leant his head back, his eyes closing to fight past the overwhelming pound of his heart rate. It was as her hand came around the base of his cock that he let out an involuntary gasp and looked down at her. “You’re…”

“Do you trust me?”

His voice was almost a whisper. “Yes.”

As her heated mouth wrapped around him in full, there was little Gale could do than release a desperate sound. His thoughts ran wild, the sensation, the vulnerability, the love and devotion she was willing to give him after all that has happened. The pain in his side meant little to him as wave after wave of pleasure warmed his body. His hands found her shoulder, a grip on her skin to ground himself in reality. “Devorah…”

She continued to move, her tongue running up his length greedily. She heard her name, felt his grasp. “Hm?” she replied, not removing herself from what she had longed for in so long.

Words escaped him. The world around him abandoned him only to her touch, to the wordless declaration of love she gave to him, that she wanted to give to him. He could not speak, he could only release the long-held moans as her tongue ran along his shaft, as her moistened lips held him close. He glanced down, a quick glimpse of her watching his pleasure pushing him to the edge almost instantaneously. It had been so long since he had felt anything like that, long nights alone with his own touch, nothing in comparison to the way she touched him. Gale was overwhelmed, the sight of her, her eyes on his, her subtle smile curving with her lips as he clasped tighter to her shoulder. He wanted to fight it, wanted each second to span into infinite moments of enjoyment, but there was little he could do as all self-control shattered with her love.

Her pace quickened, her depth increasing, and his head fell back, a burning light of white in front of his eyes as his release hit, warm and unstoppable. He didn’t feel her move to his side as the room continued spinning around him, as the shadow of death was quickly replaced by nothing but the afterglow of life. It was as his heart rate slowed that he heard her speaking, a quiet admittance of feelings, the first that would come for many years to come.

“Thank you for not dying.” Devorah uttered, pausing for a second and placing her head on his head, listening to the way his heart beat as it slowly steadied. “And for making me feel alive.”

[magnetothemagnificent]

Can you explain the Jewish sidekicks post?

So. We all know (I hope) that Jews invented the superhero comic book medium. One of the most famous sidekick-hero duo, Batman and Robin, was created by Jews (Bill Finger and Bob Kane), as was Captain America and Bucky (Jack Kirby and Joe Simon). Sidekicks have become a staple of the superhero genre (although unfortunately in modern comics they've been in decline).

In Jewish storytelling and theology, the idea of the lone hero is a foreign one. All of the most notable Jewish heroes in Tanakh did not act alone- Avraham had Eliezer. Moshe had his brother Aharon to act as his interpretor, Yehoshua to act as his right-hand man and apprentice, Aharon and Chur to hold his hands up in the battle with Amalek, and when leading the Jewish people alone became too taxing for Moshe, he set up a system of delegates to ease his load on his father-in-law Yitro's advice. Eliyahu had Elisha. Devorah had Barak. While the relationship types between these people varied from siblings to master-and-apprentice to a married couple, the running theme is that all these great leaders had assistance.

In fact, for Noach, while he was considered a righteous man in his time, one of his main criticisms is that he acted alone, that he didn't make enough of an effort to reach out to others. In the very beginning of the Torah, G-d says "It is not good for Man (humans) to be alone, I will make him a counterpart" (Bereishit 2:18).

The idea of a lone hero getting all the credit and responsibility is present in various European mythologies, and subsequently Christian theology with Jesus as the singular Messiah and saviour. In contrast, while the idea of Mashiach is bit more fluid in Jewish theology, even Mashiach is thought to not act alone, with two counterparts to Mashiach, a Mashiach ben David and a Mashiach ben Yosef being recognized, as well as Eliyahu HaNavi to usher in Mashiach. This also intersects with Jewish ideals of masculinity contrasting with Western ideals. The ideal Jewish man is not characterized by brute strength and the lone wolf persona, but rather by a gentle, intellectual man with close bonds and loyalty to his family and community. (I highly recommend reading the essay by Jonathan Sexton in Chapter 5 of 'Jews in Popular Science Fiction' for more about superheroes and Jewish masculinity, especially with regards to Batman).

Sadly, there has been a noted decline in the popularity of and depiction of sidekicks in superhero media, which coincides with the increasing erasure of Judaism and Jewish influence in the field. Sidekicks are integral to the superhero medium, and it's a shame more people don't recognize their significance.

[kanerallels]

Trick or treat 💜

*cracks knuckles* Let's see if I can do this justice

If Hera had thought being without Kanan was hard before, it was nothing compared to now after she had Jacen.

She’d been granted maternity leave (a very tired looking Princess Organa told her to take as long as she needed), and was spending it on Lothal. Governor Azadi had appointed a specific landing platform for the Ghost, and that was where Hera stayed. She couldn’t quite bring herself to visit the comm tower where Ezra had lived, not yet.

Often, she wasn’t alone. Zeb would be there as often as he could, as would Sabine. But they had their own responsibilities, and Hera wasn’t about to divert anything from the Rebellion. Her father had visited a few times, but it was hard for him to get off of Ryloth.

So more often than not, it was just her, Chopper, and Jacen. And while she was so, so grateful for the gift that was her son…it was hard.

He cried. A lot. Hera sometimes wondered if he somehow remembered the trauma she’d gone through while carrying him, if the pain of that and losing his father was still inside him. But more likely, he was just a baby, who cried when hungry or cold or pretty much whenever he needed anything. She vaguely recalled her little brother crying, too, before they’d lost him.

It had been months since she last had a full night’s sleep. If Jacen’s cries didn’t wake her—and they usually did—dreams of fire and blue-green eyes did. She was tired, and trying so desperately to take care of her son. But Hera felt like she was one step away from falling apart.

She couldn’t, though. She didn’t have a choice. She had to hold it together for Jacen.

As it turned out, it relaxed Jacen to be held, especially when she was moving. So Hera started spending a lot of time walking, with him cradled in her arms or strapped in a sling to her chest. She started exploring the streets of Lothal when she wasn’t helping Ryder with the relief work, pacing the lengths of them time after time. Often, she’d pass places she recognized—Old Jho’s, the bombed out shell of the Bridgers house. Or other times, she’d see a piece of graffiti by Sabine, and wonder when she was here. If it was recent or long ago, back when life made sense.

One day, she was walking through a tangle of neighborhoods, most of the houses burned away. Sabine had recently commed, saying that she was coming back to Lothal. She hadn’t said why, but the heaviness in her voice said it all. Her and Ahsoka’s search for Ezra was still fruitless, and Hera’s heart twisted at the thought. At the fear that he might actually be gone for good.

She tried to hide the fear and sadness she felt, but Jacen seemed to be picking up on it anyway, because he simply would not stop crying. No matter how much she rocked him, humming one of the songs that soothed him the most, he wailed steadily on.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she whispered to him, bouncing him up and down lightly. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Excuse me.”

A gentle voice cut through Hera’s spinning thoughts, and she looked up—meeting a pair of blue-green eyes. For a moment, she was paralyzed, and then she registered the sight of an elderly woman, silver hair pulled back from her face, which wore a warm but concerned expression.

“Can I help you?” she asked. “Please.”

Any other time, Hera would have demurred, would have told her she had it handled. But the combination of exhaustion and Jacen’s cries and the startlingly familiar eyes somehow overtook her brain, and before she knew it she was handing her son over to the woman, who introduced herself as Devorah.

To her shock, Jacen quieted quickly as the woman sang gently in a language Hera didn’t recognize, staring up at her with wide blue eyes. Apparently, many human children started out with blue eyes. Hera harbored a secret hope that Jacen’s eyes would change to look like his father’s.

“What a precious boy,” Devorah murmured. Giving Hera a sympathetic look, she said, “You look exhausted, General. Haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Not as much as I want to,” Hera admitted. “But—how did you know—”

“I’ve seen you around the refugee camps,” Devorah explained. “Everyone’s quite impressed with how much you’ve been doing, particularly with a newborn baby. But I know how hard raising a new baby can be.” Pausing, she said, “I take it his father is—”

“Gone,” Hera said, hating the ache in her throat and the sting in her eyes. “He—he died to save us.”

Devorah’s expression softened. “Then your little boy has two heroes as parents. But I have a feeling that’s little comfort.”

“You could say that,” Hera agreed.

“Hmm. I lost my husband to the Empire,” Devorah told her. “He was brave, too, but…it doesn’t prevent us from missing them.”

Hera suddenly found the tears in her eyes spilling forth. “No,” she whispered. “It doesn’t.”

And to her profound relief, Devorah didn’t hesitate before pulling her into a hug.

After that, she saw quite a bit more of Devorah. The refugee camps housed those who were displaced after Thrawn’s orbital bombardment, and Hera had been working there as much as possible to help. Now that she’d met her, Devorah seemed everywhere at once—cooking, helping put up tents, cheering up children and encouraging parents and singing, always singing.

(it reminded Hera, as too much did, of Kanan. How he’d told her once that the only memory he had of his life before the Jedi Order was of a voice, singing to him, and after that Hera had made a point to let him catch her singing as much as possible.)

The camps were overcrowded, and work to get people their homes back was slow. A lot of people were sharing tents, and some didn’t have one to begin with. When Hera realized that Devorah was one of those—she’d given hers up to a pair of children, whose parents had died in the bombings—she’d immediately, impulsively, offered to let Devorah use one of the spare rooms on the Ghost.

(there was only one real spare room. Hera almost never went in there, not anymore. But somehow, it felt right to let Devorah use it.)

Having someone else around all the time brought a little light to Hera’s life. And it helped a lot to have someone look after Jacen so she could catch a little extra sleep every now and then.

It helped that Jacen loved Devorah. He’d light up when she was around, babbling to her, and she’d listen and laugh like he was actually talking. “He’s such a sweet boy,” she told Hera one day. “He reminds me of my son at his age.”

“You had a son?” Hera asked, not quite surprised, and Devorah nodded.

“And a daughter. She left to fight the Empire, although I hear from her pretty often. And my son…” Devorah’s usually cheerful face fell, an old sadness in her eyes. “He’s gone, too. For longer, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Hera said slowly, and Devorah glanced at her.

“It’s quite alright. He didn’t die, exactly, although I’d say it’s not impossible he’s gone at this point. He was a Jedi.”

The word went through Hera’s heart like a knife, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “A Jedi?” she managed finally.

Nodding, Devorah said, “Yes. I was sad to let him go but, oh, how proud. We knew he’d change the galaxy someday. I was sure of it. Our family never bought into the Empire’s lies about the Jedi, and I always wondered if he’d made it.”

“What was his name?” Hera managed, and she knew. She just knew, before Devorah spoke with a gentle, wistful smile on her face.

“Caleb,” she said. “Caleb Dume.”

[vacantgodling]

the beginning of the first age where everything goes to absolute shit <3<3

there's gonna be 2 more parts in explaining the first age eventually and even more eventually i will actually write some goddamn prose. but these powerpoints are too much fun LMAO.

transcription under the cut:

SLIDE 1: The First Age -> The Age of Valor part i -> another powerpoint by yours truly @/vacantgodling

SLIDE 2: irandium 175: The Citadel of Argos is Finally Completed *irandium = the terranean ‘year’ which lasts 300 earth days instead of months, there are seasons, which each last 75 days.

At the behest of the people and through the guidance of MUINENS, Inen the OOM, chooses the first king and queen of Argos.

From the fields, he chooses a man named Gian, who will become known as Gian of Argos, and from the stone-workers, he chooses a woman named Constanteira, who will become known as Constanteira the Good.

Both were born in Irandium 145, setting the precedent that every ruler from henceforth should be chosen at the age of 30 years old.

At that time, it was learned that Terraneans tended to expire (if they were not killed) by the age of 150. However, at this point in Argos’s construction, nearly 2/3 of the population had fallen prey to the monsters and beasts that roamed the land.

SLIDE 3: The First Age Royal Lineage (for ease of reference)

Gian of Argos (145-xx) married Constanteira the Good (145-xx) and had 1 child: Blythe (238-xx)

Blythe married Chanson Aegis (237-xx) and they had Una (301-xx)

Una was not chosen to be the next king by the OOM and instead a farmboy named Ira Belledrumm (300-xx) was chosen. He then married into the royal family. They had a child named Devorah (332-xx)

Devorah married a man named Ghalen Daybreak and they had a daughter named Clandestine Daybreak (363-xx)

Clandestine married a man named Oug (358-xx) and they had two children Yazan Dia (408-477) and Nieko of Argos (414-477)

Yazan was the next chosen king and he married a woman named Tara (410-477). They had 5 children together: Loredana (446-477), Nunzia (448-477), Orietta (452-477), Pinella (454-489) and their only son, Mitica the Nomad (459-607).

Nieko married a woman named Raine and they had twin daughters: Twilight (449-?) and Whisper of the Fire (449-493)

SLIDE 4: The Sixth King of Argos: Yazan Dia

Yazan Dia—originally known as Yazan Daybelle, became fascinated with the goddess IISIDIA in his youth; inspired by a dream he had where he saw the goddess’s large, dark hands, shifting the stars above him in the universe.

In that same dream he saw the hands beckon him to approach, and as he did, he noticed that the hands were gray and scarred, with many rings adorning its fingers. It waved before him a mist and a vast chasm in the shape of a door opened before him.

It was then that Yazan changed his name to Yazan Dia (to honor the goddess) for he believed the vision was telling him that should he follow her guidance and seek understanding of her ways—of CANTILLO—that the kingdom of Argos would prosper.

Oh, how misled he was.

SLIDE 5: The Opening of The Rift The Fall of Argos was only just the beginning of how the fate of The Aegeans would unfold...

With the encouragement of his wife, Queen Tara Dia, King Yazan continued to follow the clues that were left behind in his dreams, even venturing far out into the wilderness to the The Entrance of MIZDARR’s GROVE—the place where the origin of chaos, The Thicket was rumored to lie.

After years of preparation and research—in secrecy from the rest of the kingdom—King Yazan and Queen Tara descended to the darkest depths of the castle; down in the very bowels of the earth where guards were sure they heard and saw things that perhaps they shouldn’t.

And in these dungeons, King Yazan made a Grave mistake.

SLIDE 6: He was Betrayed.

And all of Argos fell prey to the Beasts and Monsters hidden deep within Chaos.

SLIDE 7: 477 is when everything came to an abrupt halt.

The fall of Argos sends the entire Terranean population into chaos. King Yazan & Queen Tara were dead. The king’s brother, Nieko of Argos and his wife, Raine Idanly, were dead. 3 of King Yazan’s eldest daughters were dead. And much of the population perished in their attempt to flee from the fallen city.

Those who survived were able to make it to the Fortress of Eros—a barely finished stronghold that was the base of all operations outside of Argos when it came to exploring the world around them, and protecting the farmers and foragers who worked the soil outside of Argos’s gates.

It wasn’t large enough to hold the entire population that was able to escape. Everyone knew they couldn’t stay here—it wouldn’t be long until even Eros was overrun.

With no king, and no leader, all the people could do was turn to the OOM (Oracle Of Muinens) to choose their next king.

SLIDE 8: The Day of Fissures — Summer 478 The Exile of the Nomads & The birth of The Aegeans

After days of prayer, the OOM chooses the next king of Argos: 18-year old Mitica Dia, the youngest child of the late King Yazan to succeed his father. Having a king this young is untoward. It begins to cause a stirring in the populous remaining, especially when after conferring with the OOM it was determined that their goddess MUINENS wanted them to defect into the wilds for safety.

Whisper Idanly, second child of Nieko of Argos senses her opportunity. It was no secret that the brothers (Yazan and Nieko) did not get along, with Nieko himself harboring a deep seated hatred of his elder brother—a value he was especially successful in instilling in his younger daughter. She saw her opportunity to turn the tides and gain power among the wayward Terraneans.

She accused the young Mitica of cowardice. That no true king would abandon his rightful throne in their homeland just because a dire evil overthrew it. That he would rally his armies and strike back against this threat. But Mitica argued that with the number of injured and children, that there would be only carnage and desolation for such a rash act against their goddess.

SLIDE 9: Separated by the fire that Whisper threw to cut those who defied her off from Eros. Forever.

The Nomads The group that decided to stick by the young King Mitica the Nomad and journey into the unknown on behest of the goddess MUINENS.

The Aegeans The group that decided to defect with Whisper Idanly, now known as Whisper of the Fire to fight and try and reclaim their homeland.

SLIDE 10: The Goddess YLENE was born out of the ashes of Whisper’s damning fire, and along with her the magic vis.

The fate of the Terraneans was now split. And things will get much worse before they get better.

[lesbiansovereverything]

At Home with Ourselves: Medusa's Spinster Heaven

At Home With Ourselves is an interview series in which we profile lesbian homes. From van life to the suburbs, from self-built cabins to studio apartments, from collective houses to the things that make you feel at home wherever you may find yourself. Wherever and however lesbians live, we want to know about it.

Devorah: I can relate to the idea of home needing to be a place where you don’t feel infringed upon. Have you always aspired to this?

Medusa: Even as a young girl, I went against the grain. I admired the Maiden Aunts in literature and real life that were supposed to frighten us. I thought they were gutsy and interesting. Like those fabled Spinsters, I grew up to live in my own attic and to wear a lot of black dresses. I am a lifelong lesbian, now in middle age. My space is appropriately named Spinster Heaven.

Devorah: What else do you want to share about your space and what home means to you?

Medusa: Women are often told we are “selfish” when we need time or space to ourselves. We need to reclaim “selfishness” as the self-care that it is and to let go of guilt about needing our own spaces. I am an introvert, psychically sensitive, and have a busy mind. I need a lot of space, quiet, and time to myself. Many of us do.

Like many women, I grew up in a family where I did not have a lot of control over my direct environment. I lived with a constant low-level distress which compromised my health. As an adult, I lived with roommates and lovers, but it was not until I had my own space at Spinster Heaven that I was able to truly inhabit it and live.

Continue reading on LesbiansOverEverything.Com

[judasiskariot]

🤠🤠🤠🤠

💝🤭🥂💀

Did I mention? 🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

🤠 - Yeehaw vibes

🥳🥳🥳🥳 YEAH! Yeehaw hat crew! HAT CREW!!!🥳🥳🥳🥳

💝 - I love you (platonic)

Awww 🥰 Same same 😘����

🤭 - You make me laugh

Haha I try to 😁 I wish you could here my witty and unnecessary sassy comments in real life, I swear I am funny as hell 😏😉😁😂

🥂 - I would get drunk with you

Oh oh OOOOOH 🤩🤩🤩 Thisobald partys!! 😆🍻🥂🥳

💀 - I would help you hide a body

House&Wilson style!

Me too; and I would make sure that you lift from your legs to unburden the back! ☝🏻️ No back pain on ma watch!

🤠

Devorah says:

"HAT STAYS ON DURING SEX!"

[californiastatelibrary]

Did you catch ABC's Your California Life segment this morning?  The California History Section's upcoming event, Words of Liberation, was featured on the local news! Kim McMillon and devorah major discussed what "Words of Liberation" means to them and how poetry has been used throughout history as a form of resistance. To hear McMillon, major, and Robin Coste Lewis talk about these ideas and much more, please join us virtually on Thursday, June 13, at 6:00, for "Words of Liberation: The Exploration of Blackness through Poetry."  https://libraryca.libcal.com/calendar/californiastatelibrary/June2024 

[justneury]

I did a ihnmaims oc,,, quickly drawn!

"From helping people, to damaging them and herself."

She's literally anger issues + avoidant personality disorder (and avoidant attachment) + unhealthy copying mechanisms + LOTS of trauma

(btw I uploaded her to Artfight, here she is :D https://artfight.net/character/5482608.devorah-ihnmaims )

More Abt her below :D TW! sensitive topics and..... idk almost everything is a wip tho, and..so much text ngl

Devorah is a girl with pale skin, messy brown hair and a pair of pretty sharp fangs. Her hands and feet are of a blackened color, and has pretty sharp and elongated claws. She's no longer fully human.

[LORE WIP, NOT ACTUAL]

She was before a fellow therapist, She went through a lot in life. Her actions were questionable before, but she tried to be better. Also even if she was a therapist, she was always masking what she really felt when she felt anxious or bad, being the type that hold their feelings inside for too long. She was simply a normal human, but now that is long gone. when the events of AM, AM modified her to look like a monster and be a danger to herself and others. She feels like a freak.

[FUN FACTS]

She has very short temper, tends to be hostile and impulsive.

She has a lot of pent-up anger inside her due to all the years of what AM does to her. She can accidentally snap at anybody and hurt them with her mutated body, and she feels guilty of it.

tends to growl and even hiss, sometimes acting like the monster she feels to be. She hates herself as much as she hates AM. When she gets with other people tends to act defensive

She still retains humanity but it's mostly driven by anger due to the desperation, fear and trauma. Has unhealthy copying mechanisms, like hurting herself with her own claws.

She has become the monster she never wanted to be.

Misses her old self... When she was kind and had hopes, dreams... but that 'her' is long gone due to the years of torture by AM

She is always defiant. Is a defense mechanism of her. Her way of flight or fight is always—or almost always— fight.

AM knows very well that she is afraid of death, even if she can kill herself at any moment, she won't.

She was isolated from the rest for a lot of years, being tortured alone. AM knew that she depends on others often, so it stripped that away.

Therefore she doesn't gets along pretty well with the rest...

She really needs a hug. Probably would cry in your shoulder if you give her a genuine one.

a small funfact! When the events of Ted killing the others but himself she wasn't here because she left (haha she couldn't tolerate them) but when she came back (few months later) she was greet with the presence of slug Ted

She is protective against that thing. she doesn't knows why but she feels sympathy to see someone being as hopeless as her in this lonely world. AM probably would be amused by that lol

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

For the Tav ask game! 💖

1 and 9 for Saulus, 2 and 19 for Dev!

Oh oh oh oh 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 *excited* Thanks for asking! 🤩😄

Saulus

What would your Tav’s greetings be (at different levels of approval)?

Low: “You are standing in the way of my writing light.”

“I wish you were drink, because I need one when talking to you.”

“Don’t bother a bhaal babe.”

“I heard you like Volo’s writing.”

Neutral: “Need some bardic inspiration?”

“Wait a second…let me write this down…and now I am here for you.”

“Found any bardic inspiration on the road?”

“Want to help me rhyming?”

High: “I was just about to come over to you!”

“Heard any gossip?”

“Are you flirting with me or what does the look on your face mean?”

“Did you want something from me or are just here to flirt?”

“Wanna hear my newest song?”

“Shots! Shots! Shots! Are you ready for some shots?”

“Can I tempt you to a drink? Or two…or three…”

Romanced: “Oh, there is my muse.”

*sheepish and flattered giggling while blushing*

“My favorite person. I would ask for a compliment, but you do not expect the sunset to admire you back.”

“Oh, you have got something on your face…” *kiss on the cheek* “It’s me! Hihi”

“You look like my newest poem.”

“Look owlbear cub, it is your daddy/mommy.”

“Hey Baby!”

9. What’s the significance behind your Tav’s name?

Oh I am glad you asked! 😃😁There is a good story to it!

I don't wanted to write it willy nilly unasked tho 😉

It comes (of course) from the biblic Saulus.

When we were kids/teenagers me and my sister played a PC game "Siege of Avalon". There you could attack the NPCs and they turned hostile.

When we tried that, we said we were playing as Saulus. It was the synonym for playing evil.

In my first playthrough of BG3 my Tav Jelayah was an almost paladin like fighter, only making the righteous decisions.

But when someone got me upset and there were evil options, I always said "I can't wait to do my evil run! Than they get what they deserve! I finally want to play as Saulus!" So Saulus became the equivalent for the evil playthrough for me.

And when I then set up my Durge and thought about a name, I just chose Saulus, since I had already said it a hundred times.

But in the end I could hardly get myself or her to be really evil because the options didn't feel good at the moment of decision.

(And when you look at it, it's also a good symbol for a redeemed Durge😉)

Now you know everything there is to know about her 😃

Devorah

2. Describe their tent setup! What’s on the outside? The inside?

Clothes – clothes everywhere. Mirrors and tons of dye. She has got a wardrobe where she ties up – eeehm I meant where she hides her secrets.

👑💄💋💄👑A make-up corner for styling and a corner for books, because she is in a book club with Gale.📖

She likes it pretty and cosy. 🌸💖🌸There have to be colorful flowers, luminous mushrooms. A drow love swing – I meant hammock.

19. What is their MBTI Type?

“Personality test? Overy thirty&flirty is all I say. I am a drow and my personality screams fabulous and magnificent and if anybody says anything else…well they are lying and only jealous! And if my personality does not speak for itself, I still have great boobs!”

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Gilmore Girls OC Masterlist ( D-K )

( A-C ) ( L-Z )

Name: Daniella Gilmore-Danes

Story: Home Again

Face claim: Lucy Hale

Love Interest:  Logan Huntzberger

Name: Devorah Barans

Story: The Road Not Taken

Face claim: Gideon Adlon

Name: Eleanor Doose

Story: Last Summer

Face claim: Bethany Joy Lenz

Love Interest: past Jess Mariano; endgame TBD

Born and raised in Brooklyn, Eleanor Doose was a city girl through and through.  She thrived in the fast pace of the city, in the freedom of being able to go anywhere at all, any time she wanted.  There was always something to do, and Eleanor was going to do it all.  She had never been one to slow down, determined that if she just kept going, kept moving, she could stay one step ahead of her problems.  But she couldn’t outrun them forever, and when they finally did catch up to her, it was as explosive as any collision could be.  Suddenly, Eleanor found her entire life packed into two suitcases and pushed onto a bus — for her own good, everyone said.  But there was nothing good about being sent to Stars Hollow, the entire town smaller than the neighbourhood she’d grown up in.  Eleanor Doose was a city girl, a small town in the middle of nowhere had nothing to offer her.  Nothing, that is, until another bus pulled into town, bringing a small piece of New York to her in the form of her ex boyfriend.

Name: Eliya Rygalski

Story: Faking Glory

Face claim: Odeya Rush

Name: Elle Hearst

Story: Untitled

Face claim: Danielle Campbell

Love Interest: Logan & Finn

Name: Emmeline Forbes

Story: (We’ll Never Be) Royals

Face claim: Maddison Brown

Love Interest: Logan and/or Finn

Name: Esme Gerard

Story: You’re In The Band

Face claim: Jadah Marie

Love Interest: Livi Ruiz

Name: Evan Mariano

Story: Story Of A Girl

Face claim: Maia Mitchell

Did Evan Mariano hate living with her mother?  Yes.  Did she desperately want to get away from Liz’s various boyfriends?  Definitely.  Did she want to be shipped off to an uncle she barely knew because her mom took her boyfriend’s side over her children’s?  Not particularly.  But if Stars Hollow was her escape then she would absolutely take it — if only the entire town weren’t trying to get Luke to send them back to hell.

Name: Freya Morgan

Story: New Romantics

Face claim: Adelaide Kane

Name: Gabi Mariano

Story: Wish I Were Here

Face claim: Sofia Black D’Elia

When Jimmy and Brook Mariano divorced, Gabi didn’t handle it well. Acting out, getting into trouble, she tried doing whatever it took to get her parents to pay attention to her instead of constantly fighting. Then, once the divorce was finalized and Jimmy left, Brooke decided she didn’t want to look after the child she never wanted and sent her to the other side of the country to live with an uncle she barely knew. But Stars Hollow was fine. Really. Okay, it was a bit too nosy, a bit too eager to gossip about the new girl, but it was fine. And Gabi was fine, too. Broken, alone, but fine.  She felt trapped, unable to breath, no less explain how much it hurt to be tossed aside like yesterdays garbage by the only family she knew, but she was fine. It was fine. And she was fine for an entire year; until Luke’s nephew comes to town.  A troubled kid, abandoned by his father, tossed aside by his mother, sent to live with his uncle, he sounded more like Gabi than anyone else in Stars Hollow.  And then she meets him.  Jess Mariano.  Her brother — wait, her what?

Name: Gen Saylor

Story: My Way / Piece By Piece

Face claim: Haley Lu Richardson

Name: Harry Bechtel

Story: Delicate

Face claim: Nicholas Galitzine

Love Interest: Troy Donahue-Callisto & @the-witching-ash's Richie Gilmore in Delicate)

Troy Donahue-Calliso had a plan.  A good plan, at that.  A plan that involved graduating from Chilton at the top of his class, then going to Yale to study political science and international affairs, then going to Yale law, then becoming a lawyer, then senator, and then the youngest President in history.  He liked his plan, it was a good plan.  It left room for the occasional stress relieving hookups with his friends, it accounted for the disdain that he would forever face in Hartford – for his sexuality, for the colour of his skin, for his parents’ divorce, for his father not being from Hartford.  It was the perfect, foolproof plan.  He never planned for the Gilmores.

Name: Harry Bechtel

Story: New Romantics / Coming Of Age

Face claim: Nicholas Galitzine

Love Interest: Troy Donahue-Callisto

Name: Holland Bass

Story: Breakaway

Face claim: Meg Donnelly

Love Interest: Jess Mariano

Holland Bass had never been good at staying in one place.  She’d spent her life travelling with her grandmother, being homeschooled and seeing the world.  But in her junior year of high school, her grandma gets it into her head that Holland needs permanence; that she needs normal and consistent socialization; that she needs to finish her last two years of high school in one place.  Unfortunately, rather than getting to stay in a foreign city, in any of the hundreds of places that offer stability but would still be exciting, Holland finds herself in Stars Hollow, moving into her grandma’s inn.  She loved the town, loved her godfather and all the whacky events, but she knew that it would never be enough to satisfy her need for adventure. Until she meets Luke’s nephew, the only person in town as restless and stir-crazy as her.

Name: Hyacinth Nelson

Story: Windward Circle

Face claim: Peyton List

Name: Ilsa Gilmore-Danes

Story: Of Love And Longing

Face claim: Liana Liberato

Ilsa Gilmore-Danes was pretty happy with the way her life was turning out. She lived with her mom and older sister, spent most of her free time and half of her nights at her dad’s, and had turned out pretty well adjusted, all things considered. But when she turns fourteen, everything changes.  First, Rory gets into private school and Ilsa finds herself facing school without her big sister by her side.  Then, Rory’s dad comes back into the picture, as eager as ever to shove Ilsa out of the picture while he plays happy family.  Soon after, her dad’s great heartbreak roles into town, whose sudden departure had been the first heartbreak of Ilsa's young life. And if that weren’t all stressful enough, she now has to spend every Friday of the foreseeable future having dinner with her grandparents, who’ve made no secret of the fact that they think Ilsa’s existence ruined their dreams of the perfect family.

Name: Jacqueline Grant

Story: Drops Of Jupiter

Face claim: Amanda Seyfried

Love Interest: Jess Mariano

Name: Jamey Belleville

Story: Hey December

Face claim: Joshua Bassett

Love Interest: Lorrie Gilmore-Danes

Name: Jane Forester

Story: Long Time Coming

Face claim: Katie Douglas

Love Interest: Lindsay Lister; Lindsay Lister & Jess Mariano

Name: Jeremy Skinner

Story: The Road Not Taken

Face claim: Sean Berdy

Name: Jocelyn Gilmore

Story: Untitled

Face claim: Liz Gillies

Name: Julia Gleeson

Story: Untitled

Face claim: Katie Holmes

Love Interest: Jess Mariano

Name: Kaito Lauder

Story: Loveless Generation

Face claim: Evan Mock

Love Interest: Blythe Langford & Charles Gilmore

Name: Kaylee Hayden

Story: Ego Crush

Face claim: Josephine Langford

Love Interest: Jess Mariano; Logan Huntzberger

Kaylee hadn’t meant to get expelled, okay?  It wasn’t her fault that the fireworks somehow went off early, and really, if the small scars near her eye were anything to go by, she already more than paid for the stained glass windows they destroyed.  But no, apparently even the Hayden princess and Huntzberger heir weren’t above the rules this time, and Kaylee finds herself stuck back in America with her father.  An unfortunate situation, but she’s confident that in a couple of weeks she’ll be off to the next boarding school and won’t have to see him again until summer.  Instead, she finds herself stuck on a motorcycle trip to fucking Connecticut – where, apparently, he has a whole other family.  A whole other daughter, to be specific, one who was still in the womb when Kaylee herself was conceived. And as if that weren’t enough, Connecticut also has her grandparents.  The worst people she’s ever met, hands down, and the only people capable of convincing Christopher that it’s in his best interest to cut his losses and abandon his no-longer-only daughter on the doorstep of the mother she’d never met.

Name: Kirsty Gilmore

Story: Delicate

Face claim: Zoey Deutch

Love Interest: Tristan Dugray & Logan Huntzberger or Jess Mariano

Troy Donahue-Calliso had a plan.  A good plan, at that.  A plan that involved graduating from Chilton at the top of his class, then going to Yale to study political science and international affairs, then going to Yale law, then becoming a lawyer, then senator, and then the youngest President in history.  He liked his plan, it was a good plan.  It left room for the occasional stress relieving hookups with his friends, it accounted for the disdain that he would forever face in Hartford – for his sexuality, for the colour of his skin, for his parents’ divorce, for his father not being from Hartford.  It was the perfect, foolproof plan.  He never planned for the Gilmores.

Name: Kirsty Gilmore

Story: My Way

Face claim: Zoey Deutch

Love Interest: Tristan Dugray; eventual Tristan Dugray & Logan Huntzberger

Kirsty Gilmore loved her family, she loved her town, and she loved her life. Really, she wouldn’t change a thing.  But when she suddenly finds herself transferring to Chilton with her sister, change becomes inevitable.  And with a new school, new friends, and a new world to explore, Kirsty finds herself wondering if she might want to be more than just a Gilmore Girl.

Kirsty AU Masterlist

Name: Kirsty Gilmore

Story: Piece By Piece

Face claim: Zoey Deutch

Love Interest: Jess Mariano

When Tristan was sent to military school, he made Kirsty promise that she would move on, that she would think about her own happiness for once.  And she had tried.  Over the next few months, she’d found herself growing closer and closer to Jess, until the accident.  His sudden departure brought an abrupt end to whatever could have been growing between them. Even after her blowout fight with Lorelai, she’d hoped that a summer on Broadway would be exactly what she needed to keep her promise, to clear her head and hit reset, but it was proving to be just the opposite. Exhausted, lonely, and ready to pack up and give in, Kirsty is quickly losing faith in New York. That is, until something — fate, a panic attack, a thunderstorm, a lack of any clean clothes, take your pick — led her into a small diner and Jess Mariano’s arms.  

[dragynkeep]

2 and 12

a compelling argument to why your fave would never top or bottom.

i don't think bi han could physically bottom, he's just has too much rigidity about what he does during sex & how he has it / what roles he plays during it. a very traditional person lol.

unpopular character that you like & think others should too.

we looked through three unpopular character lists & tbh, we disliked all of them too 😭 & i think more people should hate devorah for what that bug bitch did to my beloved.

[finishinglinepress]

POETRY BOOK OF THE DAY: Quiet: The Collected Poems By Sauci S. Churchill (1940-2011)

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/quiet-the-collected-poems-by-sauci-s-churchill-1940-2021/

Sauci Churchill’s Quiet . . . Collected Poems brings us into a compelling voice that is distinctive in its presence, whether joyous, sad, tender, comic, reflective, or fearful. Whatever the subject, the #poems are like lyric conversations, be they memories of growing up on #Chicago’s streets in the 1940s and 50s; of the world about her — bats, for instance, “lie in dark places / our pulse pounds in fright // Help us to love them”; of religious belief — “I never had religion but/ revered the fine grain of wood / polished it with my soft rag to shine”; of travel,“ in “My First Time in Paris”: “Pont Neuf, hidden in shadows is wrapped. / Domes emerge and the city begins to dazzle;” and then of pain, which Sauci had much of and wrote about in the most evocative of ways: “Washed in the moon’s brightness / pain, like the night sky, is vast.” And, the #poetry she wrote when she was dying stands by itself, particularly her last words, from which the title of the collection comes, prompted by a trapped sparrow in her porch: ” Quiet…. /That frightened sparrow/ could have been my heart.” The understated elegance of all these embracive poems is a welcoming invitation to share in their intimacy.

Sauci S. Churchill graduated from the University of Wisconsin in Madison, and took graduate work at the University of California at Berkeley. After teaching and working as a law librarian for more than three decades in a windowless inner core of a government building, she retired to work at Hillwood Museum and Gardens, where she asked only to be put into the light. She lived with her husband, Bruce Butterworth, and the third of their shelter dogs, Cloud. In November of 2010, she was diagnosed with ALS, and died of the disease seven months later on June 3, 2011. She was cared for every moment until the end by her husband Bruce Butterworth. Her daughter, Devorah Churchill from a previous marriage, mourned her death then, and now, as do so many of her friends whom she helped so much with her life, and her works. This book, which begins with the works written between her diagnosis of ALS and her death, is published so that those poems will not be forgotten: Her husband says: “she faced death realistically, with unforgettable courage. She always chose her own way, and did until the end. I will always remember her.”

This book was made possible, in part, by donations to the FLP’s ONE LAST WORD Program. ONE LAST WORD helps to bring the last works of gifted poets to the world. We are honored to be publishing her last work.If you are interested in donating to the ONE LAST WORD PROGRAM, you can do so here: https://finishinglinepress.submittable.com/

PRAISE FOR Quiet: The Collected Poems By Sauci S. Churchill (1940-2011)

This elegant, intelligent, and deeply moving collection of poems is aptly named. Sauci Churchill’s lyricism is indeed, quiet, and all the more powerful for it. She finds miracles in the smallest things — a tiny harmonica, a white lace collar, even the blink of an eye — and builds exquisite shrines of poetry round them. That hush in her voice reminds us that everything, seen properly, is part of a sacred whole. What a blessing this book is.

–Rose Solari, author of The Last Girl (poetry) and A Secret Woman (a novel)

It is good to have Sauci Churchill’s early work and later poems brought together here. Her poems have long been marked by a unique combination of delicacy and toughness, reticence and candor. The poems she wrote between her diagnosis with ALS and her death in 2011 add moments of angry humor and astonishing beauty. “I lay down/in the whitest of snow,” she writes. “later that evening/ a small red fox/ sniffs my face/ and moves on.”

–Jean Nordhaus, author of Innocence, Memos from the Broken World, and The Music of Bein.

Sauci Churchill’s poems are quiet marvels — this is not hyperbole. Her seemingly simple diction and concreteness of line, whether writing of childhood memories in Chicago (Running Down Division Street) or traveling in Jamaica and Croatia, or in meditations on sorrow and pain — which “like the night sky, is vast / Twinkling, it seems to come and go / but is steadfast like the north Star” — or in comic self-deprecation, the poems from one to the next have a luminesce about them: “Who’s to say on a shining summer evening/ with my planet or star ascending / and my clothes strewn about / that I cannot dance/in the privacy of /the moon’s light / just as I am / as I am.” The poems of Quiet have a singular voice — you cannot help lingering amidst their warm companionability.

–Merrill Leffler, author of the poetry collection, Mark the Music

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[kanerallels]

For the three sentence (or paragraph) fic challenge: Kanera but the AU is Hera was the jedi, not Kanan.

This, uh. This got longer than I expected, so it's going under a cut!

He’d thought the Jedi were gone, all killed when he was a teenager. He’d seen the wanted posters for the survivors, the warnings that they couldn’t be trusted, the propaganda— not that he’d ever really believed it.

And he’d watched them all dwindle, until there was no one left. It was just the Empire, ruling over them all.

But then, Kanan had come to Gorse. And he’d met the most incredible woman in the galaxy— beautiful, smart, an amazing pilot, and brave.

Finding out that Hera Syndulla was a Jedi wasn’t really a shock. He was certainly surprised, but it made so much more sense— the way she’d managed to pull off some of the tricks, flying and otherwise, that she had. The way she’d stared at him when he’d offered to help her, like she could see through him, before accepting his help. The fact that she was still traveling alone.

Even now, after dropping off  Zaluna, she was getting ready to politely but firmly send him on his way. He could tell. Kanan still couldn’t tell why exactly she’d let him help in the first place, but he knew she was usually a solo act in her fight.

As they made it to the hangar where her ship was waiting behind closed doors, Hera turned to him, her expression more hesitant than he’d expected.

“Wait,” he blurted out, and she lifted a curious eyebrow at him.

Kanan could have said anything. He could have told her that, ever since he first met her in that alleyway, he’d known he would never meet someone who called to him like she did. He could say that when she’d saved his life on the Star Destroyer, she’d practically glowed. She’d looked at home in the pilot’s seat, and using the Force, she looked like she had a purpose.

He could have told her that, when he was very young, his parents had died, killed by the Black Sun when they tried to fight back against them. He and his younger sister had changed their names and fled, living in fear for years. The Black Sun had never come after them, but it had been a long time before they’d felt at ease again.

He could have told her that the Jedi had saved his planet as a kid, or that he’d never liked the Empire, especially once his sister Devorah had enlisted when she turned 18, or that he’d never been one for a cause until now.

But all he found himself saying was, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Hera’s eyes widened in surprise for just a moment before she frowned. “And what makes you think I need help?” she asked, but Kanan could tell she was mostly teasing, with a hint of curiosity.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re incredibly good at what you do,” Kanan told her, deciding honesty was the best policy. “I almost believe you could do it all on your own. But that’s the thing— none of us can. We all need someone to watch our backs and take care of us. To help pick us back up.”

“And you want to be that someone?” Hera asked. “You know, it’s not exactly a sought after position. Not with— with who I am.”

He didn’t miss the slight hitch in her voice, the loneliness. Kanan understood it. “I do. For you, at least. And I’m willing to take the risk if you’re willing to have me around for a little while longer.”

Hera nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. Kanan could tell she was considering it, but not what she would choose. “It won’t be safe,” she said quietly. “I’m not safe to be around, not really.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Kanan said, “Considering the last few days, do you really think safety is my biggest priority?” Not my own, anyways.

That made her laugh, which had been his goal. “Okay,” she agreed. “But if things go wrong, I have the right to throw you out.”

“Absolutely. It’s your ship, after all, Captain.” But Kanan had a feeling things wouldn’t go wrong. He had a feeling he would stay with Hera for as long as he possibly could.

Call it a good guess, or fate, or maybe even the Force. Who knew? All Kanan was really sure of was that he wasn’t planning to leave Hera. Not if he could help it.

[blackacre13]

Have you read The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo? can you make a loubbie verison please?

This book had me bawling and singing its praises, so this is an HONOR❤️✨ I will never do TJR’s novel Justice, but here is a poor attempt:

There had been a lot of press about me over the years. Scandalous headlines. Award nominations. Rumors. Pity parades. But no one truly knew my story. No one truly knew who Deborah Ocean was. Because well, Debbie Ocean wasn’t real. She was really Devorah Mayim. But I didn’t want to be restricted to a culture or a religion or a family or a background. I wanted to be famous. And I wanted to be famous for being me.

It was inappropriate and a bit rash I’m sure to go about an interview knowing I was going to give a story that was anything but what the magazine was looking for, but even if the magazine was mad, I was going to change this reporter’s damn life. Not that auctioning my gowns to raise money for cancer wasn’t a worthy cause. It was. Most certainly so. After all, cancer had taken my reason for living away not once. But twice. But it was no story. My life. That was the story.

The young girl seems intimidated. And hell, most people would be. But I’m not most people. She has no idea that I’m about to change her life. And she hasn’t the faintest clue that she will be the first human in the world to truly learn the story of Debbie Ocean, starlet and celebrity turned recluse.

It’s easy enough to begin. The smaller parts of my story are the ones that don’t affect me so. They don’t matter as much. They helped shape who I am, of course, but they don’t weigh as heavy on or torture my soul. They’re just artifacts.

My first husband is like that. Linus Caldwell. He was nice enough. A baby face. A boring but stable job. Chivalrous. He knew he was getting more than he bargained for in more ways than one. But he had enough income that he could help me run. And that’s what was important to me at the time.

Dennis Mayim was the devil. He was volatile. He abused my mother. He abused me. And I vowed every night that I would make my way out of Hell’s Kitchen and flee the city for a life that was better. Different.

I was upfront with Linus about this. We had our fun, and I showed him plenty of it, but he was my escape hatch. My safety valve. He wasn’t the love of my life. And that made it easier than ever for me to walk away.

Linus told me he always knew I’d leave him for another man, and that was true. But it wasn’t for love. It was for fame. And I’d never been dishonest about my goals. Robert Ryan, or Rusty, as the industry knew him, was an up and coming producer at Sunset Studios and we became fast friends. He wanted to produce films with stars and I wanted to be a star. He told me I had what it takes.

Linus was done. And Devorah was good as dead. I didn’t want my father trying to convince anyone he was owed any of my money anyway.

Claude was Rusty’s idea. Having a beau on my arm who was already a famous actor would only boost my star and help me on the road to fame. And I won’t lie, he was good…in the kitchen. What started as a publicity stunt turned into something real. It happened when you spent as much time together as we did. We had a lavish wedding. It was a gorgeous affair. A steamy honeymoon. And a Heaven of a homecoming. On camera at least. Hollywood doesn’t pay much attention to what truly happens behind closed doors. Especially when they can’t see the bruises or hear the yelling.

With a scotch in hand and a cigar in his mouth as he cursed at me, I realized my mistake. I’d married my father. I’d been blinded by the potential for fame and success. I hadn’t seen the yield signs.

But beauty is pain. And he was only taking it out on me because I was having an affect on his career as well. Who cares about Claude Becker when he was being outshone by his stunning, glamorous wife, Debbie Ocean? Not enough people for Claude’s liking.

It’s a relief when I am offered a different sort of role. I’ve done the sex. I’ve done the romance. I am tired of playing second fiddle and arm candy to Claude on film and in life. Josephine March was a role that would change all of that. Jo was serious. Aspirational. A writer. A leader. An inspiration to her sisters. It was going to put me on a pedestal and let me be seen in a whole different light. I was ecstatic.

The trouble, you see, was something else entirely. There are four March sisters. Amy is a nuisance. Meg is kind but dull. But Beth? Poor, sweet Beth, who falls ill and is taken from the world too soon? She could steal the show. And worse, she could steal the academy award.

I didn’t know anything about Louise Miller except that she was beautiful and talented. Younger than me. Bolder than me. And that bitch was going to steal my Oscar.

I didn’t know anything about Louise Miller except that she was beautiful and talented. Younger than me. Bolder than me. And that bitch was going to steal my Oscar.