#⌖ I'm old enough to be the great-great-great grandparent of every gentleman who's had his photo stolen by the trevorbots.

[radioconstructed]

⌖ The Trevors are MULTIPLYING.

[zozo-01]

Care To Join Me For A Dance, My Love?

Hey there! Some of you may have guessed by now that I am a sucker for royal balls. Now is the Monarchal Summit going to be a ball? Probably not. Will that stop me from writing about our favourite vampires and their partners at a ball? Fuckk no!

Anywho, already had fun writing for Darlin' at a ball once and I decided, 'hey, I'm gonna do it again.' So here is a more fluffy ball fic featuring our favourite Southern gentleman and his lovely Darlin'.

@dolls-circus and @sri-rachaa come and get your food!

Warnings: None (I know surprising for me.)

click here for the ao3 link!!!

--

Darlin’ was used to this. They were used to having the eyes of everyone in the room focused on them. The stares happened when their family hosted parties. They happened whenever they walked late into a pack meeting, long before they had gotten with Quinn. It was always eyes filled with judgement, scrutinizing every action and word that was either said or wasn't said.

This was different. They felt the eyes of everyone in the ball, but there was no heat behind them. Instead, their gazes had admiration, awe and wonder. Who was this person and why are they here? Darlin’ was impressed with themselves. They had managed to capture the positive attention of all the Old Bloods in attendance.

But it didn’t make it any fucking easier for them to enter the ball.

Despite the admiration they received, one thing was for sure, they were still a wolf entering vampire territory. Not just any kind of vampires, Old Blood. (Old Blood like Quinn.) These are vampires that have been alive long before their great-grandparents were born. They have seen empires rise and fall, have more knowledge than Darlin’ could ever dream of, and as much as they hate to admit it, they can beat the absolute shit out of them. They were hesitant to walk in, in fear of angering the wrong person and having to answer for it.

‘Maybe I can turn back? Tell Sam that I felt sick and didn’t wanna come? Can I atleast not stand around like a fucking idiot and move?’

Before any more doubts entered their head, a pair of kind eyes caught theirs. From across the room, atop his golden throne, William was encouraging them to enter. They can already hear his voice in their head. “It’s alright little one, you’ll be safe here.” He didn’t have to say any words to make them feel at home. His presence was enough to have them feel like tonight was going to be alright. Fun even.

Darlin’ shook any remaining doubts, held their head up high and smiled. They remembered what their mother used to say when they were old enough to understand the undeserved judgements casted upon them.

“These aunties can smell your fear, my doll. You must smile, hold your head up high and let them know that you are not afraid of their words.”

‘Well these ain't aunties, but the same advice can be used against centuries old vampires who can kill me with a bite? Right mama?’

With their mother’s words echoing in their head, Darlin’ began to descend down the stairs into the main ballroom, eyes darting from person to person in search of a certain someone. Their eyes trying to find the silver eyes that they have grown to love.

‘Finding him would be so much goddamn easier if all of these stupid masks weren’t in the way. Fucking hell, where the fuck is he?’

-- 

Samuel Collins saw the sun set down the horizon and into the main ballroom.

They say to never look directly at the sun, but Sam decided that advice to be horsehit and glued his eyes onto his sunlight.

They look… there weren't words in the human language that could describe how beautiful Darlin’ looked walking down the stairs. Their confident stride and dazzling smile captured the eyes of everyone in the room. With every step they took, Sam heard most of the vampires' halt their breath in awe of his wolf. Had it been any other context, Sam would feel bothered, not jealous as some people would insist, with so many eyes on his Darlin’. 

But how can he blame them when Darlin’ looked as enchanting as they did? 

Somehow, a room full of vampires were put under a trance by a wolf.

His stubborn, reckless, lovely, beautiful, Darlin’ wolf.

“You know, instead of standing here with your mouth watering like a newborn, maybe you should go up to them and ask them to dance?” Vincent teased his best friend. He wore a cocky smirk to accompany his equally cocky comment. His partner lightly hit their lover on the chest and chastised him for his smart comment.

Sam turned to face the vampire prince with a smirk of his own. “Well I’m sure your partner here would love to hear about the look on your face when they walked into the room.” He couldn’t finish his description, one he so desperately wanted to tell, before Vincent slapped a hand over Sam’s mouth. Vincent stumbled over his words, trying to make a lie that he can use to maintain his pride.

Vincent’s partner covered their own mouth to muffle their laugh at sight of two normally dignified men fighting like children. “While I would love to hear about Loverboy gawking over me, you may want to help your mate Sam. It seems as though they have some unwanted attention.” The two men turn around to see an Old Blood noble talking to Darlin’. Not even a second later, Sam ran to his Darlin’ ‘safety,’ leaving behind the bemused vampire prince and his equally bemused partner.

“Oh he is so whipped for them.”

“Don’t tease him, you'd do the same for me, Loverboy.”

 Sam ran through the crowd of nobles on the dancefloor. His masked silver, determined eyes locked onto the vampire that was talking to his Darlin’. ‘Thank the Lord for vamp speed.’ He stopped right behind Darlin’, who was blissfully unaware of their mate standing behind them.

“Excuse me, Darlin’,” he says, tapping them on the shoulder. Darlin’ turned around to look at Sam. Their masked eyes sparkled with happiness at the sight of their mate. The noble seeing Darlin's attention completely on Sam, understood that they weren’t relevant anymore and so they left the vampire and shifter alone. “Care to join me for a dance, my love?” He bent on one knee and exaggerated the action of holding out his hand for them to take.

Darlin’ let out a heavenly giggle and accepted the outreached hand. “I can’t let my cowboy stand there like an idiot.” A soft smile adorned his masked face and he placed a gentle kiss on their held hand. He let his lips linger on their skin, not wanting to leave this bubble of sunlight. 

Darlin’ dragged Sam up to his feet, their lips barely touching. They looked into each other’s eyes, lost in the galaxies swirling in them. They were close to each other, but Sam wanted them to be closer. He wanted to pull Darlin’ into his heart and hold them there for as long as they live. He wanted to keep them away from all the hurt they’ve been through. Away from all the harm that may befall on them. 

He knows they can protect themselves, but that doesn’t stop the need he has to take care of his Darlin’.

Darlin’ was the first to look away, glancing at the dancing vampires. They cleared their throat before saying, “so, we should probably join the others, if you’re still up for that dance.” 

Sam gave a low chuckle. “Lead the way, my Darlin’.”

The two walked onto the dancefloor hand-in-hand. Sam noticed that Darlin’s smile was shaky. Most people assume that Darlin’s confidence was unwavering, and for the most part, they’d be right. Sam knows them, though. He prides himself on the fact that he knows them better than most. And he knows that Darlin’s nervous about something.

“Hey, you alright? Something buggin’ you?” Darlin’s eyes widened at the question. They chuckled nervously before giving an answer.

“Nah, it ain’t something bugging me… I just,” they paused and lowered their voice. “I’ve never danced in a place like this. Like all fancy and shit.” They looked up at Sam’s face with a reserved smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to dance with you, I don’t want to… embarrass you.”

Sam shook his head and held Darlin’ cheek. “You’re not going to embarrass me, love. Besides, you’re one of the most graceful people I’ve ever met. I promise you, you'll be alright.” He gave them a reassuring smile and used his other hand to hold their waist. Darlin’ turned their head and kissed the palm of the hand on their cheek. They held his hand in theirs and placed their free hand on his shoulder.

The couple glided across the room, in perfect sync. He spun them a few times, and every time Darlin’ let out a cherished giggle. As the dance went along, Sam pulled Darlin’ even closer. The early need of holding them close came back. The two slowed down, moving away from the main dancefloor so as to not clog up space.

Sam and Darlin’ had both of their arms wrapped around each other. They swayed slowly to the music in the background. Darlin’ leaned over to whisper into Sam’s ear. “Have I told you how devilishly handsome you look tonight?” They said it with a flirtatious smile. It was enough for Sam to tense up with how good their voice made him feel.

Sam tilted his head over to whisper back “you look…,” yet again Sam was at a loss for words. How does one describe the celestial beauty Darlin’ possesses in a mortal language? For no language, however modern or ancient, could capture their divine essence. But he had to say something. 

Sam cleared his throat before whispering back in a husky voice. “You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.”

Darlin’ shivered when his breath had reached their ear. “I didn’t know you’ve read ‘Pride and Prejudice?’” The truth is, he hadn’t.

One of the more surprising facts about Darlin’ was how much of an avid reader they were. Their taste in literature was grand, from Arabic poetry from millenia ago to a children’s tale about demigods. Their eyes would absorb the words from the page, committing it to their brain. 

Along with their reading habit was their hobby of annotating their books. They would highlight lines and write little notes in the margins. Sometimes, they’d use little sticky notes to mark their favourite passages or scenes to go back and reread later. Sam loved to look through these annotated books, finding all of the quotes that Darlin’ adored to better understand them. It was how he came to find out that Darlin’ was more of a Romantic, with a capital ‘R’, then they let on.

One day, he was looking through their copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice.’ The famous quote was underlined and was accompanied by a message in the margins.

‘On Goddd, if someone said something like this to me, I’d fucking marry them on the spot.’

And Sam really wanted to fucking marry them.

“Well I decided to look through the book and thought you’d appreciate me saying it.” He acted as though he didn’t memorize that line so that he may use it in a situation like this.

Darlin’ rolled their eyes and leaned closer to Sam’s face. “My, my Samuel, how cheesy of you.” 

Sam let out a low, husky chuckle. He leaned in as well, his lips ghosting theirs and his beard brushing against their skin. “Well my Darlin’, I thought you’d appreciate the cheese.”

A beat of silence went by before Sam spoke up.

“Darlin’, can I kiss you?”

They answered with a breathless “yes” and leaned in to kiss Sam. He snaked a hand up their back and cradled their head, pulling them closer. Darlin’ had begun to run their hands through his hair, earning a groan from the vampire. The kiss was full of love and passion. Of words that were unsaid because the magnitude of their feelings couldn’t be explained. All they knew was that kissing each other, that holding each other, that being with each other was the only thing right in their world.

Sam leaned back for air. He stared at Darlin's swollen lips and love filled eyes, and could only say one thing.

“I love you so damn much Darlin’,” he whispered. He wanted the world to know who he loves.

He wanted to make sure that they knew he loves them.

Darlin’ closed their eyes and leaned their forehead to touch his. They let out a huff of laughter. 

“I love you too, Samuel Collins.”

–

[Staring at the couple from across the ballroom was a pair of cold silver eyes. 

The man looking at them quickly felt anger towards the southern vampire for touching what’s his.

The southern vampire walked away from the wolf. Delighted by this, the man started walking towards the shifter, wondering if they’ll accept a dance from him, for old time’s sake.]

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is part 2. After meeting him for the first time things heat up quickly between you and Marcus Moreno.

How serious will things actually get between you? Can you help heal each other's broken hearts?

Warnings, XXX smut, female receiving oral sex, fluff, unprotected sex, not for anyone under 18.

Your daughter went away for the weekend to stay with her paternal grandparents.

For the first time in years you were enjoying a kid free weekend. It felt great, but the silence was a little strange.

You hadn't been out on a date with anyone in years, and you were nervous.

Friday night Marcus picked you up and the two of you went to a nice restaraunt for dinner and drinks.

You were dressed up and looked gorgeous. He was unable to take his eyes off of you.

Marcus was a gentleman and made you feel very comfortable.

The two of you shared stories about your daughters, Your spouses and their backgrounds.

Your beloved husband was a first generation Cuban American. His parents were Cuban exiles. It was difficult for you to stop talking about him because you still loved him with every fiber of your soul.

"I'm sorry for rattling on about my husband". You finally explained with a slight laugh. "This must be incredibly awkward".

"Don't worry about it". Marcus replied with a slight smile. "I know what it's like to lose someone that you love".

He caressed your hand gently, putting you immediately at ease.

After dinner the conversation continued in the parking lot.

"I haven't been out on a date in ages". Marcus confessed with a slight laugh. "I hope I did well?"

His self depreciating words made you laugh loudly and you gave his arm a playful little slap.

"I like your laugh, your smile, everything". He confessed, smiling sweetly and looking into your eyes. "When I first saw you I thought "Wow, this is Lizzette's mother?"

You leaned in first and Marcus kissed you deeply and passionately. For a man who made so many jokes about being socially awkward he was anything but.

As you ran your hands through his soft, brown hair you took in the exquisite scent of his cologne as your tongues tangled together.

Marcus smelled as heavenly as he looked. His pouty lips felt soft against your skin.

He had awakened many things, mental and physical, that you haven't felt in years. Your cunt was drooling at the mere thought of what might happen next.

"Where do we go from here? Your place or mine?" Marcus whispered into your ear.

"Yours". You replied quickly.

As soon as the two of you were through the front door things moved onto the sofa.

You were making out like a pair of horny teenagers. You sat on his lap as you kissed, you could feel his long and thick cock harden between your legs.

"I don't have any condoms here". Marcus explained with a cute little laugh as he started to kiss your neck.

"I'm sorry".

"It's OK, I'm on the pill and I've only been with my husband". You whispered back.

"Are you sure?" He asked one more time.

"Yes". You whispered back. "You can do whatever you want with me".

"How do you like it?" Marcus whispered, nibbling on your ear.

"I like it soft, and gentle". You answered back.

Marcus rolled you over on your back and helped you out of your blouse and bra. He began to kiss and massage your breasts tenderly, causing you to moan in delight from his touch.

His soft lips traveled further, his beard tickling you, down your bellybutton, below your old c-section scar, he tugged your skirt down, revealing your underwear.

Marcus pulled you closer and began to teasingly lick your wet, aching cunt through the soft material.

He pulled your panties down and began to softly kiss, lick and nibble on your wet and swollen anatomy.

Your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head as his nose brushed against your erect clit.

Marcus was making love to you with his mouth, your body was shaking from pleasure and he had only just begun.

It was soft, gentle yet intense at the same time. He loved your taste and scent and was showing you that by lingering there so long.

You could tell that he absolutely loved what he was doing to you.

You reached up and playfully started undoing his belt, a silent cue that you wanted to see ALL of him.

Marcus stopped long enough to remove his own clothes. He was hung, and thick. You were slightly intimidated by his size.

He must've seen the look of surprise on your face because he immediately said with a slight laugh,

"I saw that look, don't worry, I won't hurt you".

As you desired Marcus was careful with you. You hadn't been intimate with anyone for several years so every kiss, lick and nibble felt even more electric.

Once the two of you were in the comfort of his bed the foreplay continued.

As he massaged your hard clit with his thumb Marcus penetrated your wet, throbbing cunt with his tongue.

You were pleasure and affection starved, Marcus could sense this.

His mouth, and his large, strong hands were being careful. Marcus's touch was soft and gentle.

With his head between your legs his hands gripped your hips as he licked, sucked and tongue fucked you into pure ecstasy.

You experienced a full body, shaking orgasm with his tongue inside of your body as he tenderly stroked your inner thigh with his free hand.

"Oh Marcus". You moaned, as you arched your back and grabbed a handful of the soft sheets, your legs still open. "Fuck".

Your reaction made Marcus laugh a little. He positioned himself on top and as he slowly, softly kissed you he carefully slid his large cock into your soaking wet cunt.

You were tight, and he was well endowed. At first Marcus had a difficult time thrusting due to your anatomy. Your tightness was practically strangling his fat cock, his girth felt so good inside of your body within minutes you could feel your own climax building.

"Marcus, you're huge, fuck". You cursed with a slight laugh as you looked deeply into his gorgeous brown eyes. "You're going to make me cum and you're not even doing anything".

Marcus laughed a little at the honesty of your words and began to thrust at a slightly faster pace.

Your head was swimming from pleasure and you felt a warm, tingling sensation spread throughout your entire body as you enjoyed your own climax with a weak whimper.

Your fingernails had dug into his back, drawing a light amount of blood.

"I'm so sorry!" You apologized immediately, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"No, no, it's okay". Marcus said with a slight laugh.

He couldn't pull out in time and ended up cumming deep inside of you. You could feel the warmth of his massive load fill your cunt and begin to spill out.

"I meant to pull out". He told you quickly as a shocked look appeared on his gorgeous face. "But you felt so good".

"I'm so affection starved". You told him with a slight laugh. "I haven't been kissed since my husband was killed".

"Oh y/n". Marcus replied with a misty eyed smile as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you. "I feel the same, I've been busy raising my daughter and with other things that I've forgotten about my own needs".

The two of you took a quick shower together and then headed to his bedroom to relax.

Marcus opened a nice bottle of wine and ordered a pizza. You spent the rest of the night eating, drinking, watching late night television and talking about your daughters.

"This has been the best adult sleepover ever". You told him with a laugh as you toasted to the night's activities. "I look forward to doing this again someday".

"Me too, y/n". Marcus said with a wistful smile.

"I don't usually do, well, all that on a first date". You told him with a slightly embarrassed smile. "But I feel so comfortable around you".

"I don't either". Marcus replied as he burst into laughter. "But it felt, right, in more ways than one".

Before falling asleep the two of you shared a few more kisses. Marcus held you tight in his strong arms all night long and then cooked steak and eggs the next morning for breakfast.

When you picked Lizzette up Sunday night from her grandparents house she greeted you with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

You were smiling and glowing differently, your daughter noticed this.

"Mom, you're actually smiling!" Lizzette exclaimed. "I guess you had a great weekend too!"

"Yes I did kiddo". You told her with that massive smile still plastered on your face. "It was just perfect".

The end

[p---leia]

Ancient Writer of dreams and nightmares: I am 71 (-one month), and have been writing (making up tales) since I was three. I can still remember my Pawpaw whittling a pencil for me, and Mawmaw tearing a piece of brown grocery bag for me to write on. They weren't 'poor', but writing paper wasn't to be wasted on a 'kid' just for fun. I carefully scripted my first short story.

Of course my 'letters' looked more like ancient Hanguel, so I had to read it to my "captured" audience. I really don't remember the story, but as my grandparents had a yard full of chickens and my dog, Mutt, liked to chase them (because of this we 'both' got into trouble -- because I always joined the chase) I most probably wrote about that.

My Pawpaw was a story-teller. For several years I thought there really was a baby found in the wilds of the African jungle and raised by the great apes. I thought he was the luckiest babe, EVER!

Then I found Pawpaw's books about three years after he died. I was eleven when he died, and felt that my best friend had abandoned me. But when I found those books I realized just where Tarzan actually came from and went to. I read everyone of those books and got the complete picture. THEN..

Well, Pawpaw also told stories of Daniel Boone and Davey Crocket...before I saw them on Disney. Then, of course, I went to school and learned what I already knew. Pawpaw was an excellent story-teller and never mixed up his facts, time-lines, or characters.

Growing up under his influence had a lot to do with how I developed as a story-teller. At family gatherings when I meet cousins I haven't seen in decades, they STILL remember me and the stories that I used to tell them. My children and grandchildren have grown up with me re-telling Pawpaw's old stories, and sharing many that I made up on the spot.

But I think what I read in my early years developed my writing style.

I was just turned eight when I read my first Shakespeare, MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. He was my first favorite author. Then I was forced to read Romeo and Juliet. I was disgusted by the fact that TRAGEDY was made famous as a ROMANCE! Even at the innocent (then) age of fourteen, I was disgusted with the idea that it was considered romantic for 'anyone', let alone 'teenagers' to commit suicide over unrequited love.

My sister (now 68) and I recently discussed this play. Because she had a 'forbidden' teenage love, she said that she related to the story (even though she had never read it). GASP! It was required reading in ninth grade!

I remember our dad breaking up my sister and her boyfriend, who was really cool. He was a hard working farm boy who had saved his money to buy a motorcycle. AND his own car. But he wasn't good enough for my sister. smh

I always thought her story would make a great LifeTime movie. But I'm not touching it. She would 'skin me' for sharing with the world her broken heart. And if I added the stuff that sells today, she'd scalp me for lying. Not a win situation at all. So, I will write notes in my "Random Jottings Journal" for future decendants who might grow into writers or story-tellers.

By the way, the title "RANDOM JOTTINGS" came from a sci-fi book that I read as a kid in the fifties. I don't remember the author, although I'm pretty sure it 'might' be from a Heinlein juvenile book. But I've never found a reference to any sci-fi books using that term. SO!!! If anyone recognizes "RANDOM JOTTINGS", which was a note book that a professor/scientist/genius used to keep his 'thoughts', PLEASE share the author's name and the title of the book!!! Thank You.

In the meantime, I referenced Shakespeare. James Oliver Curwood wrote about Kazan, the Wolf Dog, and later Baree, Son of Kazan. From those two books, read when I was eleven, I searched for and found other books about Canada. Later there was Walter Farley, author of the Black Stallion, and the Island Stallion series. I think I met my FIRST friendly alien in the Island Stallion Races.

Of course, Edgar Rice Burroughs taught me much false history about the jungles of Africa, as well as the Moon and Mars. But I loved every 'read-under-the-covers-with a-flashlight' minute! I believe he was a contemporary of Zane Grey, because he wrote a few non-jungle and non-space stories, too. Which led me to Zane Grey.

Having read both of their biographies at a young age, I learned about the hardships of being a writer. I should say 'the hardships of a struggling writer'. I have never had a problem writing. Since I write for 'fun' and not 'profit', the few short stories I've had published were by local press, and a State magazine.

No, my struggles have centered around graduating high school, and completing college, stuggling to satisfy my husband, a 'Mr. Spock in the Flesh' personality, and later raising two children without benefit of parental support or child support. But we survived in the middle of laughter and many tears. And my made up stories about children lost in the woods who were rescued by a great friendly bear, or wolf. Or dog. And sometimes by a great Black Panther - a by product of one of my Pawpaw's 'local historical tales'.

I understand that publishers detest stories that begin with "It was a dark and stormy night.." But let me tell you, some of the BEST bedtime stories occur on stormy nights when the power has gone out, and it's too hot for candles or lanterns. That shadow that stands darkest in the corner and seems to be moving towards the bed is actually grandma come to check on the kids, and stands quiet so not to disturb the kids if they're already asleep. But since they are awake, and they see her 'shadow', she becomes the old crone who lives in the castle dungeon, and has slipped her chains to visit with the 'wee folk'. But there are no fairies out on such a blustery night, so the old crone comes to visit with the 'wee bairn', who fall all over themselves to get out of bed and sit around her to hear her stories of 'long ago' and other 'dark and stormy nights'. Again -- unpublished, because publishers don't like ... LOL

Of course there's always On-Line publishing. But that involves more work than actual writing.

Back to the writrs who influenced my writing:

While I enjoy a good Western, an adventurous space trek, or time travel, I also enjoy the occasional Historical Romance. Georgette Heyer was my first! I still re-read her amazing books. Of course there's Jane Austen.

There are a myriad of modern writers that I have read over the last five decades. Heinlen, Asimov, Norton, Bradley, McCaffrey, Moon, Stirling, Krentz/Castle/Quick, and Moening, just to name a few of the ones whose books I have in my personal library.

Those older authors did affect my writing style to develope as I read their stories. The later authors helped me to move into the late 20th century. But I'm not so sure that I like the 21st century so much. It's all about being politically 'correct'. If you aren't ashamed of your gender, your race, your country, your religion, your culture, your family, your history, then you are prejudiced. That's just too much guilt to have to live with.

I'm still dealing with my mom's death from ten years ago. I was her care-giver for five years. Her doctor had given her nine months. I still worry if I did enough for her in those last years.

And though my children are grown with their own families, I worry that I wasn't a good enough parent. And I worthy as a grandmother? How was I as an older sister? I was responsible as a moral guide when our parents were at work. Was I a good neighbor? A good support in our Church? And Hollywood wants me to feel guilt about something I can't change?!!

I'm an old woman who still likes being a woman and enjoys liking men. I'm not just white. I'm also mixed with a bit of Native American, and even a drop of -- OMG!!! --- Black. snicker.

That's a serious joke, because as a kid I had a recuring nightmare that I was a black man being judged by a group of people in white hoods I was hanged amidst their fiery torches. I always thought those white hoods represented the Catholic Church, because at that young age I didn't know about the Ku Klux Klan. Even though I grew up in the South, my family was not involved with that group of out-lawrey. Thank God!

Still, I'm supposed to feel shame? For something not even my family supported.

I've always believed there's a hint of Fae in my DNA. Because I love dancing in the light of the full moon, and flying with the owls who perch outside my bedroom window and call to invite me to follow the moon's shadow. If I am part Fae, I know it came from my mother's people. They were Irish mixed with Alabama Indians who believed in the Nunnehi aka Immortal, and the Yunwi Tsunsdi, aka Little People.

ALSO, while there's no DNA proof of ancestry, I've always been a 'closet Chinese'.

In the Fifties, when WW2 was still fresh, and we were involved with the 'Korean Conflict', and at odds with China, I would sneak around the radio, turn down the volume, and tune into 'that wierd channel' that sometimes played Opera, or Chinese music. Ahhh. I would close my eyes and wander through the few visuals I'd found in books, or the occasional movie. (before color tv)

A year or two ago I was totally depressed and disgusted with American TV. Hollywood has become so political, so wierd. Their programming is no longer for entertainment, but to 'educate, enlighten, or to inform'. zzzzz

Then I found KDrama!!!!! Korean TV. Japanese Tv. squeal!!! Chinese TV.

The rom/coms are sweet and 'pure'. Okay. I'm realistic. This is not a reflection of real life on any planet. But the innocence of the early 1950s programs is there. Similar to Disney's 'Summer Magic'. I'm happy with those dramas that remind me of thati nnocence. I have found a few dramas that shared more than I cared for, and I do enjoy an occasional 'romp'. But I've always preferred the Lady and Gentleman characters.

And watching these programs have reminded me of those fairy tales and legends from my childhood that had been sprinkled with the Occasional Oriental myth, legend, and children's tale.

Then I remembered my FIRST historical legend. "The White Stag" by Kate Seredy, is the tale of Atilla the Hun!

I recently found a copy of that book and am waiting for a quiet time, when the power is out and there's nothing to do. Then I will use one of the many flashlights I bought for a huge hurricane, and relax on the sofa beneath an open window and read this legend once again. I live in Florida. The odds of this happening increases as the summer progresses. I can't wait to learn if my memory of this tale of Atilla the Hun remained true, or has been distorted in the last half of a century.

Most of the tales that I write involve space adventures, the occasioanl ghost, and encounters with fairies, the evil ones, not the romantic ideal fairy. smh

I've never been very good with romance or comedy. But thanks to the recent influence of the Asian productions, I have re-formatted one of my dark adventures and turned it into a rom/com.

I love a good joke, but very seldom get the point or see the humor. And I can NEVER remember the punch line if I try to share a joke. My family have said they will write on my tombstone --

"I don't remember the punchline ... but it was funny."

But as I write humorous lines or events I find myself laughing. Or crying at sad events. And I am all 'giggly' when I write what is supposed to be innocent romance between a young and shy couple. But I have never felt that my own reactions were a true guide to how the story might come across to a 'reader'.

As it happens, I have two sisters younger than I am. My middle sister is bored easily and immediately redirects our conversation to something about 'her'. Okay. I understand. She is lonely, needy, and maybe a bit selfish? Not judging. She's the 'middle child' and that's her excuse. ROFL..

But the youngest sister is my greatest fan who declares that I am an awesome writer. "I love you, sister, dear."

So she visited me last week and patiently listened as I read the first chapter. She listened quietly, and I wondered if I had 'read her to sleep'. sigh. Boring books are often the best sleeping pill. Then I heard her laugh.

Squeals/Dancing/hooting/flying around the room in ecstasy!!

Okay! At least one person has laughed. And she's not that easily 'tickled'.

So, I will always carry on and write. But now I feel that at least I might be following a path strewn with "Black-Eyed-Susans, honeybees, butterflies, and bunnies".

I don't know if anyone will read this, or will enjoy it. I hope so. While sharing bits of my youth, my worries, and my concern about certain ones of my 'stories', I actually had ideas for developing 'new' stories.

I am always amazed when writers say they are 'blocked'. I have only to open my eyes to see a world around me that no one else can envision. I listen to a song, and I'm in a different world, time, planet. A gift from Pawpaw, and Mother's DNA.

It is my oldest granddaughter's birthday this month, and I don't know what to give her for her birthday. But when she was younger, she always asked me to tell her a story. I think that I will pull out one of my OLD/ANCIENT tales that I wrote when her dad was her age and make it into a book for her.

p---leia aka Mamma KayeLee

7/19/2020