#music that tells the story of the Nativity while placing it in a world that's familiar to the listener

[queenlucythevaliant]

We see him come and know him ours

Russia: "Carol of the Russian Children," traditional // Kenya: The Nativity, Elima Njau // France: "Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella," Nicolas Saboly // Haiti: Madonna and Child, Ismael Saincilus // Australia: "The Three Drovers," William James // China: Tryptic by Lu Hongnian // Canadian/Algonquian: "Huron Carol," Jean de Brébeuf

[nowritingonthewall]

Let me take your hand

Fandom: Star Wars

Character(s): modern!AU Poe, Shara Bey and Kes Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Summary: Sometimes all you need to make the pain a little more bearable is someone to take your hand, hold you gently, kiss you softly and tell you that they love you.

Words: 6900

Warnings: Hurt/comfort with a lot of hurt (!) in the beginning, aftermath of losing a parent (please please please don’t read if you fear that you might not be able to bear reading this!), reader celebrates Christmas, kind of spoilery if you haven’t read “Free Fall”

A/N: This was supposed to be a cute little spin-off of another Christmas story that spiralled completely out of control. 2023 was the third Christmas with this story living rent free in my mind and I was really determined to finally write and finish it this time before becoming really sick for two months. Even though it’s nearly Easter I hope that maybe one or two of you might still like it <3

As always, I apologize for not being a native speaker.

Christmas used to be Poe’s favourite time of the year.

There were presents, bright sparkling lights all over the city, the smell of freshly baked cookies, joyful songs on the radio, people being so much kinder than usual, chocolate glazed koyo berries and most importantly: both of his parents would be at home. Because Christmas was sacred.

Sure, presents were nice and everything, but sneaking into his parents’ bedroom before dawn on Christmas Morning, cuddling up to them under their warm blankets, lying safe and snug between them in a huge loving hug sandwich, knowing that for once there was no rush to get up and nothing to worry about because the day belonged to no one but their family?

There was nothing in Poe’s whole world that would ever be able to beat that.

Christmas was his favourite thing in the entire universe.

Even his very first memory was created on Christmas Eve. Shara and Kes would dance together at every possible (and impossible) opportunity they got, but that very first dance in the light of their Christmas tree on Christmas Eve was special.

It was as special to them as the song that had to accompany their dance: 'Let Me Take Your Hand' by Hera and the Rebels.

It was the song that had played on an old record player when they had met in an airplane hangar for the very first time. It had played when they had shared their first kiss, when Kes had proposed to his beloved Shara, when they had their first dance at their wedding, and when Shara had told Kes with happy tears in her eyes that they were going to be parents.

Music like a tender hug wrapping its loving arms around you, caressing your soul and soothing your heart, leaving you feeling like nothing in the world could ever hurt you.

Would you let me take your hand

And hold you gently

And kiss you softly

If I said I loved you

That Christmas Eve, as his parents began to sway in tune with the first few bars of the old forty-five crackling over the loud speakers, little Poe had no idea that he had just become part of a very long and love-filled Dameron Christmas tradition.

He was simply the happiest little boy, cuddled against his Dad’s chest, who held him gently yet safely close to his heart. With his Mom taking his hands in hers and making funny faces at him while singing along to the music, his eyes sparkled even brighter than the lights of the Christmas decorations around him.

As soon as the song was over, he wiggled his tiny feet and clapped his little hands in excitement, squealing giddily, “‘gain pwease!”

And his parents didn’t mind at all. With the record playing over and over again, they took turns kissing each other and placing the softest of kisses on their son’s forehead, cooing how much they loved him.

Poe couldn’t get enough of it.

On his eighth Christmas Eve, as Poe clung to Shara’s leg during their dance, he decided that part of him couldn’t wait to grow up and find his special someone to dance to their song. He vividly imagined how he would look at them the same way as Kes was looking at Shara.

Of course, his parents would still be there and enjoy dancing right next to him. He would do a show of being embarrassed when his Mom would try to ruffle his hair, because for some weird reason, grown-ups were supposed to hate it, even though he wouldn’t actually mind at all. And his Mom and Dad would love you nearly as much as he would and his parents would be so happy for their son to carry on their Christmas tradition.

If only he had known. If only he had known that this would be the very last Christmas with his Mom. Maybe he would have clung to her a little tighter, maybe he wouldn’t have nicked quite so many Christmas cookies, maybe he would have told her how much he loved her just one more time.

But then again, if he had known, it probably wouldn’t have been the most wonderful Christmas ever or the last time that he could remember his Dad looking truly happy before everything changed forever.

Only a year later it was hard to believe that any of those beautiful memories had been real at all.

Despite his insurmountable grief, Kes had tried his best to make this Christmas as magical for his son as it used to be. It was just that he had never quite gotten the hang of how Shara had always managed to make the Christmas tree and their apartment look so beautiful and festive and welcoming. And no matter how many Christmas lights he would string or how many candles he would light, it seemed like all their warmth and brightness had left when Shara did.

It was the night before their first Christmas without his Mom when Poe woke up to the most desperate stifled sobs coming from the living room. Full of worry, he stumbled out of bed and through the flat, the sinking feeling in his tummy growing heavier with each step of his bare feet on the ice cold floor tiles.

When he reached the door to the living room, the picture unfolding in front of him nearly tore is heart apart: The hunched over figure of his Dad lying under the Christmas tree, face hidden behind his hands, crying so violently his whole body was shaking.

Before even being able to form a single coherent thought, Poe had already crouched down on the floor right next to his Dad, trying to pull him into a hug – just like he knew his Mom would have done to comfort him.

His arms didn’t quite reach all the way around the package that his Dad had folded himself into but Poe tried to make up for it by pouring all the softness and warmth and tenderness from his big little heart into his words when he said, “I love you, Daddy! It’s gonna be okay!”

His Dad didn’t react. So Poe tried again, squeezing him even tighter this time but all it drew from Kes was another heart-wrenching sob.

But Poe wasn’t going to give up that easily. After all, just because his Mom wasn’t here with them in person, it didn’t mean that she didn’t celebrate Christmas with them. And if she was looking down at them from her cloud in Heaven among all the most beautiful angels in the universe (because there was no doubt for Poe, that’s exactly where his Mom would be), it would surely break her heart to see her two boys crying on Christmas Eve. And he couldn’t let his Mom down, could he? Not at Christmas.

And there was one thing left to try.

Hurrying over to the record player, he found what he was looking for exactly where his Mom had stored it away neatly last year. Ever so carefully, as if handling the most precious item in the world, he let the record slide out of its sleeve and placed it on the turntable. Slowly and gently, just like his Mom had taught him, he lowered the tone arm before turning back to his Dad.   

With the first few soft sounds floating across the room, Kes finally raised his head, looking up to where his son stood, holding out his hand for his Dad. As he slowly got on his feet, Poe took a step towards him and tried his best to put on a brave smile, his eyes encouraging and full of hope.

Kes looked at his son. And he looked at the record player. Then he walked straight past his son and with a cry of agony that made Poe stumble backwards with a start, Kes tore the record off the turntable and threw it to the ground with enough force to break it into a thousand pieces. Yet they were nothing compared to the millions of pieces that little Poe’s heart shattered into at this very moment.

As his father stormed out of the room, Poe kept staring at the broken remnants of the last happy memory of his family. Trying to understand what on earth had just happened. What had he done wrong?

Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was the confusion, but he didn’t even notice how he began to shiver as the cold crawled up from the floor over his bare feet and under his thin pyjamas. Until he could no longer tell whether the numbness creeping into his heart and soul came from the cold or the growing ache in his chest. He had never felt more lost or lonely in his entire life.

For the briefest of moments, he wondered whether it would be possible to glue the pieces back together again. But as he knelt down and began to pick them up slowly, one by one, that last flicker of hope was extinguished quickly.

As he pondered over what to do, he spotted the stack of Christmas napkins that his Mom had bought last year, after Poe had insisted that the teddy bear pictured on them looked just like his beloved plushie Mr. Beebs. He had spent hours sitting right next to her, learning how to fold them into the most intricate shapes, just like his Mom had done, until he had declared excitedly that his Mom would never have to worry about folding a set of napkins for their guests ever again because now she had Poe to take care of that. Taking one of the napkins from the stack now, he could vividly remember the fondness in her eyes as her smile had outshone his proud little grin.

After spreading the napkin out on the floor, he piled the pieces of the record up onto it, carefully and gently, until even the tiniest of pieces had been accounted for. Looking around the room for something to tie the napkin bundle up with, his gaze fell upon Mr. Beebs sitting on the couch with his tiny bow tie around his neck. It didn’t seem right to take it, but Poe apologized to his teddy and promised that he would only borrow it for a little while.

Having the napkin tied neatly together, he got up off the floor, taking one last look at the Christmas tree. A source of warmth and comfort for as long as he could remember, its lights and decorations almost seemed like they were mocking him now. As his eyes began to wander along its branches, his gaze came to rest on the star at the top of the tree.

“I am sorry, Mommy,” he whispered.  

As Poe held the napkin bundle gently against his heart, the tears began to fall. Unseen and in silence, yet hot and burning.

He was still clutching the little bundle to his chest when he found himself crying quietly in his bed a little later. He held it even tighter when he could hear the soft footsteps of his father approaching.

“Poe?” Kes’ voice was so gentle, it was barely audible to his son.

“Poey, sweetheart… I am sorry! I am… I am so so so sorry!”

Staring at the wall in front of him, Poe couldn’t see how his father’s tears over losing the love of his life had turned into tears over the fear of losing his son. He couldn’t see how his father reached out his hand towards him, only to hesitate at the very last moment, too afraid that he would just make things worse.

He couldn’t see how Kes longed for nothing more than to hug Poe close to his heart and never let him go again, desperate to find a way to comfort his son without subjecting him to his own soul crushing pain.

All he could see, over and over again, was that moment when his father walked right past him to smash their record to pieces.

His father didn’t want to take his hand.

Determined that he didn’t want Kes to see him cry, Poe pulled the covers over his head. And just like he had wrapped the napkin around the broken pieces of the record, Poe could feel something else wrapping itself around his heart. Not nearly as gentle and careful, but way harder and tighter and indefinitely more painful.

His father didn’t want to take his hand.

It was the last time that either of them acknowledged the song. It was the last time that music was played in the Dameron household.

And Poe never danced again.

Sometimes he would dream of it, though. Holding someone in his arms and swaying to the soft rhythm of a melody while waiting for Christmas cookies to bake in the oven or the first coffee of the day to finish brewing. But it never felt quite right. As soon as that longing ache would make itself known, he would shove it back to where it came from. Burying it a little deeper every time. After all, life was not a flipping Disney Christmas movie.

Yet there was a part of him that never stopped trying to find the song again. Even more so during that time of the year. Whether it was at the Christmas markets or at the shops, as soon as the softest sound of music could be heard anywhere, Poe would strain his ears hoping against hope to hear that comforting familiar tune just one more time.

Now and then he would hum the melody to himself, especially in those moments when he missed his Mom even worse than usual.

More than once he found himself sliding into a panic when he seemed to stumble over parts of the melody or he needed a little longer to remember some of the words. Every time that happened, he feared another piece of the memory of his Mom might slip away.

One night, after waking up in cold sweat again, he frantically scribbled down the lyrics onto the next best sheet of paper he could find as if they might be lost forever if he didn’t write them down this instant. After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he carefully folded the sheet and placed it into the little wooden box in his nightstand, which held the napkin bundle and the record sleeve.

Over the years, there were a few people that he tried to confide in but his attempts always ended up with him being made fun of. So he gave up those attempts too, burying his feelings deep under the growing pile of pain and ache and longing. They were obviously too silly to share them with anyone.

Not to you, though.

When Poe and you were about to spend your first Christmas together, it had been several years since he had bothered to put up any proper Christmas decorations at all. So when you asked him excitedly whether you could put them up together, he really did it more for you than for him.

Though he couldn’t deny that your enthusiasm was more than a little contagious. You turned the whole thing into a proper little event with Christmassy snacks and hot cocoa and festive music. After a while he found your joy so infectious that it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Feelings that he hadn’t associated with Christmas for a long, long time.

He even sent both of you into a fit of giggles and laughter after somehow managing to completely wrap himself in tinsel rather than the Christmas tree.

And then you threw him completely off balance with one seemingly innocent little question: “So what’s your favourite Christmas tradition?”

Before he could tumble off the chair he was standing on, however, his instincts kicked in, making him fall back onto his standard go to answer: Chocolate glazed koyo berries. “My father had this really amazing way of turning them into the most delicious…” he began.

But it just felt wrong. Of course he loved his father’s chocolate koyo berries, he actually used to love them a lot. But there was something else. As he looked into your warm and loving eyes, something long forgotten tried to force its way up from the deepest pits of his heart. And try as he might, it refused to be pushed back down again this time.

Determined to keep it together, he turned away from you, biting his lips until they hurt. He was not going to cry. He was not going to ruin everything again.

“Poe? Hey… sweetie, your hands are shaking…”

Squeezing his eyes shut with enough force to give him a headache, he could hear the confusion in your voice turning into worry.

“Oh Poe, I am sorry, I should have known that this might bring back painful memories, I really shouldn’t have asked, I am so sorry…”

Trying to stifle the wave of sobs demanding to be let out, he shook his head vigorously, still refusing to look at you.

“No no no, you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just… it’s silly!” he choked up.

You paused for a moment before saying gently, “It doesn’t look like it’s silly to you?”

He didn’t resist when you took his trembling hands in yours and helped him to climb down from the chair. Not letting go, you carefully held them steady in your hands, drawing soothing circles on them with your thumbs, as Poe kept staring at the floor.

“You don’t have to tell me now, if it’s too much,” you tried to reassure him.

“No, I want to, I just…” Grunting in frustration, he broke away and began to rub at his eyes with the palms of his hands with increasing force as if the motion would somehow be able to rub those pesky and unwelcome feelings away.

Carefully taking his hands into yours once more, you slowly led them away from his eyes. As you cupped his face with your hands, tenderly caressing over his temples with your thumbs, he finally looked at you, revealing his sore eyes glistening with tears and all the pain and grief that lay beneath.

It broke your heart.

You hesitated, as you had to fight your own tears welling up inside of you now before asking softly, “Is this about your Mom?”

Poe nodded ever so slightly.

Your voice turned even softer. “Does it have anything to do with the little box you keep in your night stand?”

Of course you had seen the way that he looked at that box. You had seen how he would rest his hand on that box, how his expression would turn from soft to pained and to soft again. Now and then he had even seemed to be humming a soft little melody while gently caressing over the lid of the box. Yet despite all of your questions, it had never felt right to ask him about it before he was ready to open up to you.

Closing his eyes again, Poe took a few shaky breaths. Letting his fingers wander up your arms, until they came to rest on your hands still holding his face, he tried to ground himself, focussing his attention on you. Your kindness, your gentleness, your warmth.

“Do you really want to know?” he finally managed to ask before his voice broke again.

“I do,” you said gingerly. “Of course I do. But… I wouldn’t want you to feel like you’d have to tell me anything that you aren’t ready to share yet.”

Nodding slowly, he furrowed his brow, deepening the pained expression on his face. An even more overwhelming wave of sadness radiated from his eyes, spreading over his already grief-stricken features. He tried to open and shut his mouth a few times before giving up and taking you by the hand to lead you into the bedroom.

You knelt down on the floor right next to him while he opened the drawer of his nightstand to remove the little wooden box and carefully opened the lid, revealing its contents to you. You saw the record sleeve and the lyric sheet and the napkin bundle tied together with the bowtie borrowed from Poe’s old childhood teddy Mr. Beebs.

Taking a deep breath, Poe took the bundle out of the box and placed it on the floor in front of you, unwrapping it ever so carefully.

He hadn’t opened it in decades. The moment that the napkin came undone around the broken pieces of the record, the tight layer of repressed feelings and ignored pain and buried grief wrapped around his heart fell away with it. Until there was nothing left to hold back the swelling flood of tears.

As soon as the first desperate sob ripped through his body so violently that it threatened to take his breath away, you were there. Catching him, holding him, comforting him, sheltering him.

And Poe cried like he had never cried before.

“It’s not fair! It’s not flipping fair, it’s not… she should be here… she should still be here… here with us…”

Everything seemed to bubble up to the surface at once. Pain and anger and confusion and helplessness.

“I wanted to hug him, I… I just really needed to hug him and… and I wanted to, but… but… but I was too small and… and… how could he just smash it?”

You were barely able to make any sense of all his memory fragments and turbulent emotions that were demanding attention all at once, but that wasn’t important right now.

“He came to apologize that night but I couldn’t… I couldn’t… I didn’t want him to see me cry and I… I… I should have…”

As you held him gently in your arms, he clung desperately to you, sobbing helplessly against your shoulder.

“I just… I… I failed them. Both…”

“Oh, Poe,” you whispered as you buried your face in his curls. And even though you knew that he wouldn’t be ready to believe you yet, you added gently but firmly, “You didn’t fail anybody!”

Smoothing some damp curls from his forehead, you pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head, when a new wave of tears began to stream down his face. Hot and desperate tears that had never been given a chance to dry, burning in his heart during all those years.

And now you were kissing them away. Softly. Every single one of them, even tough they were replaced by fresh ones immediately. Until sheer exhaustion made him collapse into your embrace.

As you cradled the back of his head, steadying him against your chest, rocking him gently back and forth, you knew that it wasn’t just your boyfriend crying in your arms. You held the wounded little boy, who couldn’t understand. Who blamed himself without even knowing what he had done wrong. Who hurt so deeply and yet would rather take care of everybody else around him before tending to his own wounds.

“I am here for you, Poe,” you cooed gently, hugging him tight. “I love you!”

And for the first time in decades, it felt like a few of the million shattered pieces of his heart were beginning to heal.

Unbeknownst to Poe, you made it your year’s goal to find the song for him.

The fact that Poe hadn’t been able to find it in all those years despite all his efforts, not even in the endless vastness of the internet, didn’t deter you in the slightest. Or so you thought. At least for the first eleven months of the year.

By the time December came around again, you were so close to admitting defeat that Poe began to worry about what brought you so low, even fearing that he might have been the one dampening your mood with his lack of Christmas spirit.

So, in an attempt to make up for that, he suggested taking you to the annual charity Christmas bazaar at your local school, hoping that a little Christmassy shopping spree for charity and the sparkly atmosphere of the Christmas lights might cheer you up again.

You tried not to get your hopes up, you really did. But the moment that Poe popped off to the restrooms and you found yourself stranded in front of a stall with several boxes of old forty-fives, you had to start browsing, of course.

Sorting swiftly through the records, you had gone through at least fifty of them, when your brain gave you a little jolt. You stopped. Going backwards very slowly, you looked at each of them again until you got back to the forty-second one. You carefully removed the record from the box. You read the title on the sleeve. You stared at it in disbelief. And you read it again. You shook your head. You read the title a third time. And despite your best attempts to stay calm, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a little scream that made the elderly gentleman behind the display ask in concern whether you were all right. It took every ounce of self restraint you could muster to keep yourself from throwing your arms around him and hug him until he turned blue. In the end, you hugged him anyway.

After handing the stall owner enough money to prompt him to ask you again whether you were all right, you hid the record in your bag and quickly hurried past the next few stalls, hoping not to give anything away.

You still weren’t able to keep the shine out of your eyes, though. Which Poe noticed immediately the minute that he caught up with you.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked raising a confused eyebrow.

Letting out a happy sigh that you weren’t able to contain, you smiled, “I’m just really looking forward to Christmas!”

His gaze softened as he pulled you towards you, placing a tender kiss on top of your head. Gently rubbing your noses together, his smile grew wider until it painted crinkles around his eyes.

As he rested his forehead against yours, he whispered, “Me too!” And for the first time since what felt like forever, he actually meant it.

You spent the better part of the remainder of the run-up to Christmas trying to come up with the best possible plan to present the record to him. Should you simply hide it in a pile of other gifts in his stocking, should you make him close his eyes while you put the record on, should you wake him up with the music on Christmas Morning or maybe something completely different? In the end you decided that you would leave it up to Poe because the last thing you wanted was to overwhelm him in any way or even cause him more hurt.

When you found yourself cuddling with him on the couch on Christmas Eve, however, it became increasingly harder for you to remain patient until Christmas Morning.

Lying half atop on you, Poe had completely melted into your embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, while you played with his hair. The ease and trust with which he relaxed in your arms melted your heart. You were just about to turn your head and place a gentle kiss to his temple, when he lifted his head.

“Are you okay, bups?” He asked, raising a worried eyebrow at you.

“Hmmm?” you mumbled a little absentmindedly. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re as tense as a loaded spring about to go off. And I mean that in a very non-euphemistic, sfw way. Although…” he wriggled his eyebrows, looking way too cute with his tousled hair curling itself into every possible direction, “I wouldn’t mind adding some ‘n’ into the mix a little later…”

You couldn’t help breaking into giggles, which made Poe grin in return. “That’s better,” he smiled, placing a sweet little kiss to your forehead before furrowing his brow again. “Wanna tell me why you are so nervous?”

You really hadn’t intended to spoil this peaceful moment but you also knew that Poe wouldn’t stop worrying until he knew what was up. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly tried to wriggle yourself free from underneath Poe to sit up, drawing some grunts of protest and a pout from him.

“I have a little surprise for you.”

Humming in a slightly more relaxed tone, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him again.

“And can we stay on the couch for that or do we have to transfer to the bedroom?”

You snorted, “I’ve clearly given you the wrong idea now.”

With another smile, you brushed a few stray curls from his forehead and left a soft kiss in their place.

“You can stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Getting up to fetch your little present from the hiding place in the bedroom, you swiftly returned and set down next to Poe before giving it to him.

It took a few moments for Poe to realize what he was holding in his hands. As they began to tremble, he couldn’t help but keep staring at the record.

“How… where did you…” he whispered.

You gently laid your hands on his before explaining softly, “Actually… you kind of led me to it yourself when you took me to the Christmas bazaar three weeks ago.”

He let out a small shaky laugh that turned into a soft sob.

You immediately began to rub his back in soothing circles, leaving tender kisses all over the side of his face until he began to lean into you.

“Would you like me to play it?” you asked him gently.

He slowly peeled his gaze away from the record to look at you. As his big brown puppy dog eyes began to sparkle, he slowly nodded as if in a daze. He had gotten so used to hearing the song only in his memory, had both dreaded and hoped for this moment over and over again. As you put the record on and the song began to float across the room, it felt too surreal for him to grasp.

The music sounded even softer than you had imagined it. And so much more comforting than Poe remembered.

It sounded like the warmth of his Mom’s hand caressing his face and his parents’ laughter and tickle fights and the smell of his Mom’s baking and Kes scooping him up to carry him on his shoulders and morning cuddles and running towards his parents’ embrace. Both of them holding out their hands for him.

Just like you did now.

“Dance with me?” you asked him softly. Warm and open and welcoming while still giving him all the room that he might need.

Poe’s tears fell more slowly this time. As you laid your arms around him, pulling him towards you, swaying both of you to the soft rhythm of the music, he didn’t fight the soft and shaky sobs that turned another layer of destructive pain and grief into hopeful feelings of comfort and familiarity and home.

His head found his place leaning on your shoulder as your cheek came to rest against his. You held him gently and at the same time so close that there seemed to be no room left for anything that might hurt him. And yet your embrace was so soft that he knew he could trust you with his wounded bare heart in your hands.

As he wept in your arms, you kept caressing over his curls, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his hairline until his tears began to mix with your own. The moment Poe noticed the wet streaks running down your face, his eyes widened in alarm and he quickly reached up to wipe your tears away. But you gently laid your hands on his and shook your head with a sparkly-eyed smile.

“Don’t worry about those, Poe. Not all tears are bad.”

And Poe’s eyes that had been sparkling with tears of pain and sorrow slowly began to sparkle with something else.

It might not have been quite what he had imagined the first time to be like. Dancing to his parents’ song in the light of the Christmas tree with his own special someone.

Yet as his sobs subsided to the gentle rhythm of your soft kisses to his face and your hands tenderly smoothing over his hair, right now in this moment, he felt like the luckiest person in the universe.

Except for one thing.

When he let out an involuntary sigh, you pressed one more kiss to the top of his head before asking, “Why don’t you call him? Ask him to come over for Christmas?”

“Who?” Poe raised his head in mild confusion.

“Your father?” you smiled.

“How did…” Trailing off and letting out another sigh, Poe began to shake his head. “Me and my father stopped doing Christmas years ago. I don’t even have his number.”

“Well, funny thing…”

As Poe began to raise his eyebrows, you allowed yourself to break into a mischievous little grin, making him smile through his tears.

“I spoke to Auntie Leia the other day, and…” you began.

“…she had his number and gave it to you?” Poe finished your sentence in only mild disbelief.

“Of course she did,” you nodded and smiled again. “I don’t know how but it’s like she knew.”

Poe shook his head, unable to suppress a soft giggle. “She always does.”

You hesitated a little before you asked him, “Did you know that your father keeps asking after you whenever he meets her?”

Sobering up immediately, Poe lowered his gaze to the ground, furrowing his brow. “No, I… I didn’t…”

“Hey…” Cupping his face and gently guiding him to look at you again, you asked, “I can call him for you if you don’t feel up to it?” Your eyes softened before you added, “And no, Poe… I don’t think that would be ‘silly’.”

Poe let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Could you do that for me…?”

So you did. And less than an hour later, Kes was standing at your door. His knock was so soft and cautious that you would have missed it, had you not been on your way to the kitchen at exactly that moment.

He was shivering from the cold as it looked like he hadn’t even bothered to take the time and find appropriate clothes for the freezing temperatures outside. Yet when you had introduced yourself and motioned quickly for him to come in and step into the warmth, he hesitated.

“Are you really sure that Poe wants to see me?” he asked full of doubt.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Yes he does. Of course he does! We just didn’t expect you to be here so early.”

“Oh… if you want me to come back later…”

“No, no, please… come in! You must be freezing.”

As Kes stepped into the light of your flat, you could see the clear remnants of tears on his face that had been hastily wiped away. And your heart broke for him just as it had for his son.

Poe had spent the last half hour bent over your record player, carefully removing remnants of dust from the needle and the grooves of the record. Deeply focused on his work, he gave a little start when you entered the living room, announcing brightly, “Look who is here, sweetie.”

“Hello, Poe!”

Turning around, Poe let out a soft, “Hey…” before clearing his throat and saying more firmly, “I am glad that you came.”

“Really?!”

His father’s reaction threw him off for a few moments. Was he really so utterly convinced that Poe wouldn’t want to see him?

Kes had to swallow a few times as he began to fumble nervously with the handle of the bag he had brought with him.

“Oh… these are for you!” he finally said, producing a huge bag of chocolate koyo berries.

Poe gasped in surprise. “But… these take days to make, how did you…?”

The smile that spread across Kes’ face somehow made him look even sadder. “I still make them every year, just in case you might... Never mind, you probably don’t even like them anymore, I just thought…”

Taking a step towards Kes, Poe reassured him, “No, no, of course I still love them, that’s really thoughtful of you… Dad!”

For a brief moment, Poe’s gaze flickered over to you and you started the record player. It took only a few notes for Kes to recognize the melody and his eyes widened, displaying a myriad of emotions.

“I… I’ve been searching everywhere,” he whispered. “I thought that maybe if I could find it, if I could just… you might…” Kes’ voice broke and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gain his composure.

When he opened them again, his son was standing right in front of him, offering his hand to his Dad. The look in his eyes was neither angry nor reproachful, but open and warm and encouraging with maybe a slightly pleading undertone. And it hit him full force just how much Poe reminded him of Shara in that moment.

Clasping a hand over his mouth, Kes let out a half-stifled shaky sob as his eyes began to glisten with tears. Taking a careful step towards his son, he took Poe’s hand into both of his. Placing the softest of kisses on his son’s hand, he gently held it against his chest right above his heart.

“Oh, Poey,” he whispered. “I am so... I am so…”

The moment his voice faltered again, Poe pulled his Dad into a hug. This drew a surprised little gasp from Kes before he threw his arms around his son, holding him closer than he had ever held him before. Like he was never going to let him go again. He knew that he might not be able to make up for lost time. But he could show Poe how much he meant to him right here and right now. Between violent sobs and desperate kisses to his temple and his cheek, Kes pulled his son close over and over again.

“Me, too!” Poe whispered through his own tears. “It’s okay, Dad… I love you!”

Maybe okay wasn’t exactly the right word. Maybe it was never really gonna be okay again. But as they both clung to each other, it certainly felt more okay than it had in a very long time. Maybe this could be the beginning of creating their new okay.

As his Dad’s desperate kisses slowly turned softer, he pulled back just enough to be able to gently cup his son’s face in his hands. “I love you, too, Poe. So so so damn much!”

You were just about to sneak out of the door to give them some room when Poe softly called out to you, “Hey… c’mere!”

They both invited you to join them with open arms. There may have been some feet casualties before the three of you found your rhythm but those were easily laughed away.

Christmas Eve turned into Christmas Day and Poe was still dancing. Safe and snug in a hug sandwich between the two people that he loved more than anything else in this world and who loved him just as much in return.

As Poe’s face once again found his familiar place in the crook of your neck, he mumbled, “I wish my Mom could have met you. I really wish that she could have been here with us just one more time.”

“I think she is, Poe!”

Instead of an answer, he let out a little sob against your shoulder, hugging both you and his Dad a little tighter, as Kes gently ruffled his hair.

And when Poe looked up again and his gaze came to rest on the star at the top of the Christmas tree, he could have sworn that it shone brighter than he could ever remember.

Sometimes life may cause you wounds that seem to hurt so deeply that all the time in the universe wouldn’t be able to heal them.

And sometimes… sometimes all you need to make the pain a little more bearable is someone to take your hand, hold you gently, kiss you softly and tell you that they love you.

Thank you for reading 💜

[noisynaia]

Tomorrow Never Came

[Pre-outbreak Joel x Reader]

word count: 2.8k 

rating: E

pairing: Joel Miller x afab!reader 

note: Unprotected P in V (with use of contraception). Cunnilingus. Love confessions. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof-read and English is not my native language. This work as the prologue of Yesterday’s Love but can be read as a stand-alone story.

18+ minors, please don't interact

You are always a little nervous when you knock on his door. There is always that fear of Sarah waking up and catching the two of you, but the reward of Joel’s sweet kisses when he opens the door for you is always so worth it. It’s not like it would be the end of the world if his daughter found out. She would, in fact, probably be happy to know that her dad has someone, but you want the introduction to be done the right way. You have heard so much about her and you just know that you are going to love her, she is Joel’s daughter after all. 

A few seconds pass before the door is opened. A smiling, but also a little tired-looking Joel is greeting you in the doorway.     

“Hello, darling.” His smooth voice is like music to your ears.   

You quickly step inside, meeting his lips in a loving kiss, kicking off your shoes and taking Joel’s hand to be led up the stairs to his bedroom, the two of you being extra careful as you sneak past Sarah’s room. You sit down on the edge of his bed as he closes and locks the bedroom door. 

“Come here.” You whisper as he turns around, stretching your arms out towards him. You’re making grabby hands at him as you spread your thighs wider to make room for him to step into the space between your legs. You place your hands on his hips, looking up at him with a smile 

“I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, darling.” He confesses, placing a big calloused hand over yours, taking it away from his hip and up to his mouth to plant a sweet kiss at the palm of it.   

“I’m so glad I met you.” He whispers into your skin, leaving another light kiss on your wrist.

“So am I.” You smile up at him, the honesty and vulnerability in his eyes has your stomach doing flips. You love him, it has been clear to you for a while now, but seeing him like this, in the dim room looking at you like that… You have never been more sure about anything, you are in love with Joel Miller, and you have a feeling that he might be in love with you too. It is both so wonderful and so terrifying at the same time.         

“I have been thinking...” His low voice sends a shiver down your spine. He sounds a little unsure, and the gaze in his eyes, almost searching, like he is getting ready to decipher your thoughts about what he is about to say.    

“Yeah?” You say with a reassuring squeeze of your other hand that is still on his hip, encouraging him to go on. He has lowered your other hand from his lips but is still holding on to it, brushing his thumb over your wrist in comforting strokes.      

He takes a steadying breath before continuing. “I thought that it might be about time that I tell Sarah about you. Well, about us.” 

“Really?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried. 

“Yeah, if that is something that you want, of course.” He is quick to add. 

“Of course I do.” You say, your cheeks are already hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

Joel clearly feels relief by your answer, smiling back down at you as he lets go of your hand to cup your face before reaching down to kiss your lips. The kiss is sweet and gentle at first, but it soon turns heated. You scoot back on the bed, lowering your back down on the mattress and Joel follows you, placing an arm on each side of your face without letting his lips part from yours.   

He grins down at you when you finally part from each other to get a breath of air. “What about I tell her tomorrow?”   

“On your birthday?” 

“My two favorite people finally getting to know each other? Best birthday present ever.” He says with a cheeky grin on his face. 

“I’m among your two favourite people? What about your brother?” You ask with a raised brow and a little laugh. 

“Tommy? He can get third place.” Joel says with a laugh and a shake of his head. 

You doubt that is the case if it actually got down to it, you know how much Joel loves his younger brother, but if you, in fact are Joel’s third favorite person in the world, only beat by his daughter and brother then you’re the happiest girl in the world.       

“But seriously, you feel ready to tell her?” You steer the conversation back to the more serious topic. You and Joel have been seeing each other for half a year now, but you had both agreed to take things slow, you kind of have to with the lives you’re living. With Joel working so much and taking care of Sarah, and you having your job and stuff too. You mostly meet late at night like this, Joel sneaking you into the house after Sarah has fallen asleep. Joel telling her about you is kind of a big deal to you, not only does it mean that you don’t have to be so sneaky any more and that you will be able to spend more time with Joel, but you also know how serious Joel is about you if he feels ready to introduce the idea of you to his daughter. He would never bring you into her life if he didn’t plan for you to stay there, and that makes you so happy you want to cry. You also can’t wait to get to know Sarah, she sounds like such a great kid and the idea of getting to spend time with both her and her father more is so dreamy. 

You remember how, a few weeks ago, Joel had casually mentioned how nice it will be when you can come along to Sarah’s soccer matches. You don’t think he had even registered what implications laid within his comment, but it made you feel warm and giddy, it had also made you realize how badly you’re yearning for a future with them someday. The realization had been a little overwhelming, but you can’t deny that it is there.          

“I feel more than ready, darling. She is going to love you.” His deep voice is laced with affection as he presses his lips on yours.    

“I have a strong feeling that I’m gonna love her too.” You whisper into the kiss with a soft smile, meaning every word you say.

“You could come over and have dinner on Sunday? If telling her goes okay tomorrow.”  

“That would be lovely.” You agree. “That also gives her all of Saturday to get used to the idea.” You add with a little laugh. 

“Yeah, finding out that her old man has a girlfriend must be a big mouthful.”    

“A girlfriend, huh?” That the two of you have been taking things slow also means that you never have had a conversation about ‘what the two of you are’. Joel referring to you as his girlfriend is almost euphoric.   

“Yeah, a girlfriend.” His deep brown eyes look directly into yours, a glimpse of uncertainty is back in them. “If you want to be my girlfriend, of course.”

“I most certainly would want that.” You tell him, before leaning upwards to catch his lips in a deep kiss. 

You can’t remember the last time you felt this complete and overwhelming joy. It doesn’t mean that you’re not nervous, though. You can’t help but worry if Sarah is going to like you or not, and how she is going to react, but you try not to worry about that now. Tonight you just want to enjoy Joel’s company. 

Joel finally breaks the kiss so the two of you can catch your breath. You take this opportunity to sneak your hands under his t-shirt, guiding the fabric up his torso until he leans back to pull the shirt over his head and discharge it on the floor. It quickly turns into a frantic push and pull of clothing until you both are left in only your underwear. 

You are still laying under him, his strong thighs pining you to the mattress. You can feel his hard cock through the thin fabric of his boxers and it makes your cunt throb with anticipation. You want to taste him. tapping his thigh as you grin up at him. 

“Now get off me so I can give you an early birthday bj.” 

“Oh, no-no, honey.” He says with a sly look on his face. “It’s my birthday so I get to choose what I want to do. And right now all I want is to have a taste of that pretty pussy of yours.” 

“Who am I to deny you that?” You croak out. He laughs warmly at that, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling the delicate fabric down your legs

“Would you look at that?” He sighs as your wet cunt is being presented in front of him. “You’re so damn gorgeous, darling.”            

He lowers his head down between your thighs, kissing and licking up your inner thigh until he reaches your pussy. He presses a soft teasing kiss to the bud of your clit before he slides his tongue through your wet folds, starting out slowly but quickly beginning to lap into you hungrily.     

“Fuck, Joel…” You pant out, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from being too loud. You bury your hands in the sheets, grabbing fistfuls of the soft fabric. 

“You taste so fucking good, darling.” He pants against your cunt before getting back to lapping into you. His beard tickles in the best way ever, his nose gliding over your clit as he keeps licking into you and you feel how your body gets filled with ecstasy. 

“Shit, Joel… I-I’m gonna.” You moan out. 

He hums with encouragement. Picking up his pace even more by your warning and you soon drench his face as you come undone on his skilful tongue. Joel keeps fucking you with his mouth through your climax.   

Joel takes a heavy breath as his mouth finally parts from your cunt.  

“You always taste so good, I can’t get enough of you.” His pupils are blown wide, high on your juices.  

He climbs up over your body, kissing your lips roughly, making you have a taste of yourself. You press your tongue into his mouth to deepen the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his strong arms around you. You kiss him until your lungs are empty and you don’t have a choice but to part for air. 

“Baby, I need you inside me.” You whisper as you look deeply into his eyes.

“Fuck.” He moans out “And I need to be inside of you, Darling.”          

 He gets up to sit on his knees, sliding down his boxers, freeing his hard throbbing cock, the tip red and glistening with precum. You feel like your body is on fire, you have never been more turned on by a man than you are when you are with Joel. You fumble with the clasp of your bra, flinging the garment off you to leave you completely exposed in front of him. 

“You are so fucking perfect…” He sights at the view. “Darling, you have no idea what you do to me. How often I think about you, dream about having you near.” He adds before lowering himself over you again. He positions himself at your entrance, looking into your eyes before going any further.

“Are you sure you don’t need some more prep?” He asks. 

Joel is big, the biggest you have ever had, but you don’t have the patience for it, you need his cock inside you now. 

“I’m good, just need you.” You reassure him. 

“Okay.” he nods before kissing you. Moving his lips in a sloppy kiss as he slowly slides inside you until he finally is all the way in. The sting of his size is both a little painful and a feeling of absolute bliss.  

“You are so perfect… Fuck, you always take me so fucking well.” He sights into your lips. 

The two of you lie still like this for a little while, just enjoying the feeling of each other until you can’t take it anymore, you need him to move.     

“Need you to move, Joel.”  

He is happy to oblige. You gasp as he starts to fuck himself into you. He starts out with a slow rhythm, but he quickly picks up his speed. Slamming into you at a faster and faster pace. You’re being pushed into the soft mattress by Joel’s strong hips that masterfully thrust into that perfect spot inside you that makes your vision blur and your body feel light as a feather.

You want to scream, but you know you can’t. You’re still sensitive from your prior orgasm. The evidence of it is still on his handsome face, his beard slightly glistening with your slickness, in the moonlight that seeps through his window. He is hitting you deep and hard and the sensation is almost unbearable, yet feeling so fucking perfect. You’re moaning through half-parted lips, as he is splitting you open. He is whispering praises into your skin as you desperately cling your arms around his strong broad back, needing to feel you have some sort of grip. 

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so close.” 

“I know, honey… I know, me too.” He hisses through gritted teeth.  

You wrap your arms around his neck as your cunt clench around him. Your name is falling from his lips with desperation as your climax is sucking him into you. He keeps thrusting into you, fucking you through your orgasm, pulling his arms tighter around you, lifting you up slightly as his own climax washes over him, grinding into you as he fills you up. He keeps holding you tight even when his hips come to a halt. Both of you are panting heavily. 

You stay like this for a good while, Joel holding you close as your fingertips draw patterns on his warm skin. He squeezes you tightly before beginning to move, laying down on his back. He is still holding you, taking you down with him so you lay on top of him. You let out a content sigh as he plants a kiss on the top of your head. You lay like this for a good while, a comfortable silence filling the room, the only sound to be heard is the low hum of the fan on Joel’s desk. You know you have to leave soon, but you want to enjoy this moment for as long as you can. You smile when you remember that you might not have to sneak away under the cover of darkness for that much longer, being able to stay overnight when Sarah knows about you and Joel’s relationship and has gotten comfortable with you. You can’t wait, the idea of the three of you having breakfast together in the mornings and watching movies together in the evening. You know that your imagination is running a little too wild, but you can’t help but imagine the three of you being a little family someday in the future.

It is like Joel can feel what you’re thinking about, squeezing you tightly into his chest as he takes a big breath. 

“I love you.” He confesses, his word filling the dark room. 

His words make a shiver run through your entire body. You bolt up, straddling him so that you can look directly into his eyes.

 “You do..?” You can almost not recognize your own voice.   

“Yes, darling, I do.” His voice is so tender and sincere, it makes your heart clench in your chest. 

“I love you too.” You croak, feeling your vision grow blurry with happy tears. 

Another long moment goes by with the two of you holding each other close, many I love you’s being uttered between sweet kisses before you finally get up from the bed to collect your clothes and get ready to leave. 

“Would you look at that?” You say with an amused lilt to your voice, glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand. The blue digits glowing in the dark, 12:00. It’s officially Friday the 26th.   

“Happy birthday, handsome.” You say with a smile on your lips, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose.

He smiles as you part, bringing his hand up to brush a light thumb over your cheekbone. 

You smile warmly up at him. “Enjoy, tomorrow. And don’t work too late, okay.”  

He promises that he won’t, but you are not completely sure that he will keep it.

“I’ll call you tomorrow after I have talked to Sarah, okay.” 

You nod. Leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

Neither of you knowing that his call will never get through…

[princesssarisa]

In Cinderella Tales From Around the World, I've now read all the tales from the United States and Canada. Most of these variants are Native American; some scholars think the archetype of Cinderella spread to these tribes from French Canadian settlers, but the indigenous people made it their own. There are also some US and Canadian variants from non-indigenous sources, which the book follows with two similar versions from the West Indies.

*The first Native American variant in this book is an Ojibwe version. The heroine is abused by her stepmother and two stepsisters, but a manitou (spirit) gives her fine clothes and a magical box in which to secretly store them. Some time later, the stepmother sends her to fetch water, and along the way the girl meets her grandmother, who warns her that she'll hear music, but not to look back in its direction – if she succeeds in not looking back, she'll become more beautiful than ever. She does, so one of the stepsisters sets out to the same place to gain new beauty too, but she ignores the grandmother's warning, looks back, and turns ugly. Some time after this, a dance takes place, the heroine attends wearing the dress the manitou gave her, and the chief's son falls in love with her and marries her. But after she gives birth to a son, the stepmother sticks a magic pin in her that turns her into an elk, and one of the stepsisters takes her place. Yet as in similar European variants, every day the elk comes back to nurse her baby, and eventually her husband finds her and pulls out the pin, restoring her to human form. He then has the stepmother and stepsisters executed.

*Another variant, from the Mi'kmaq and Algonquin peoples, is one I grew up with: it's been adapted into two picture books, The Rough-Face Girl and Sootface, and as "The Indian Cinderella" in an episode of the cartoon series Adventures from the Book of Virtues. The heroine lives with her father and her two cruel older sisters, who destroy her beauty by burning her with hot coals, singing off her hair and leaving her face covered with scars. Meanwhile, near their village lives a great, mystical chief or warrior who is invisible, or who can make himself invisible. Every girl in the village wants to marry him, including the two sisters, and they all dress in their finest to go and meet him. But the Invisible One will only marry a maiden who can see him, so his (visible) sister meets each one of them, and tests them by asking what his sled-strap and bowstring are made of. All the maidens, including the heroines' sisters, tell lies and are sent away. But the heroine dresses herself in improvised clothes and goes too, despite all her neighbors jeering at how ugly and shabby she looks. When the Invisible One's sister asks the usual question, she replies that his sled-strap is the rainbow and his bowstring is the Milky Way. This is the true answer. The sister then bathes her, which makes her hair grow back and heals her burn scars to reveal her natural beauty, and she marries the Invisible One.

**There's also a Huron variant on this story, with long additional episodes where suitors court the two older sisters, but they disdain the men, set near-impossible tasks for them, and when they succeed, finally say they'll marry them only when they've finished embroidering fabrics for the wedding. They force their younger sister to do the embroidery for them, but every night, like Penelope in The Odyssey, they undo some of it. Eventually, however, a great invisible chief comes to call, and the older sisters lie that they can see him but describe him inaccurately, while the youngest sister describes his true, otherworldly appearance and becomes his bride.

*The Zuñi tribe has a variant called The Turkey Girl, which stands apart from most others by having a sad ending. The heroine is a poor orphan, who either lives alone or with abusive sisters depending on the version, and earns her living by herding turkeys. One day a sacred dance is held and she longs to attend, so her turkeys magically wash her and dress her in finery and jewelry. But they warn her to come back before sunset to lead them home and feed them. The girl promises to do so, but at the dance she enjoys herself so much that she doesn't bother to go home in time. She comes back after dark to find that all the turkeys have fled into the wild, abandoning her to loneliness and poverty. This tale seems to be an allegory, warning poor people whose fortunes improve not to forget their old friends or be ungrateful to those who helped them.

*The book also includes retellings of Perrault's Cendrillon from Canada, the Southern US (written in slave dialect), the Bahamas, and Martinique. They're not different enough from from Perrault's version to warrant descriptions, but it's interesting to see the story told with each of these places' local flavors and dialects.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @adarkrainbow, @themousefromfantasyland

[popentertainment-moviereviews]

LIMBO (2024)

Starring Simon Baker, Rob Collins, Natasha Wanganeen, Nicholas Hope, Mark Coe, Tiana Hartig, Alexis Lennon, Joshua Warrior, Craig Rossiter, Shannon Wilson-McClinton, Nicholas Buckland, Ricardo Del Rio, Andrew Dingaman, Yarron Jowsey, Saliesha Dingaman, Reg Roordink and Tania Roesch.

Screenplay by Ivan Sen.

Directed by Ivan Sen.

Distributed by Music Box Films. 109 minutes. Not Rated.

Limbo is pretty much the perfect name for the (fictional) town at the heart of this offbeat police procedural which takes place in a small, dilapidated burg in the desert of the Australian outback. Limbo is offbeat for many reasons, not the least of which is that if you are looking for typical mystery beats – like for example finding and punishing the bad guy – you may be looking in the wrong place.

Limbo is much more of a character study of horribly damaged people trying to survive in a hellish area, an examination on how crime can affect the people who knew the victim even decades later, and also a scathing political allegory about the racial divide in that country. And while some questions of the central mystery are answered here, many others are left hanging.

Limbo tells the story of a white Australian policeman named Travis Hurley, who is sent to the title town to look into a 20-year-old cold case about the disappearance of a young Aboriginal girl. She was a native, and a troubled girl, and at the time the case was looked into in a very slipshod manner. Even the new cop acknowledges that had she been a white girl, the case would have been handled completely differently at the time.

Twenty years later, memories are very hazy, some of the witnesses and at least one of the main suspects are dead. Frankly, those people who are still around do not trust the police enough to speak out, particularly not to a white policeman.

Of course, there may be a reason not to trust this cop. Our first introduction to him has him driving into town, checking into the local motel (a spectacular place with rooms and hallways which are actually carved out of the rock in a local cave) and shooting up with heroin until he passes out.

Travis is played by the only actor that most people will be familiar with here. It is a continuation of the return to his native land for Simon Baker, best known as the lead in the long-running TV series The Mentalist and for roles in films like LA Confidential and The Devil Wears Prada. Baker is honestly just barely recognizable here – with multiple assorted tattoos, an emaciated build, a severe buzz cut, a scruffy beard and mustache. Literally, I spent the first five minutes of the film trying to figure out if that was really him on the screen.

Baker has spent the last few years (mostly since the pandemic, it seems) back in his native Australia, taking on harsh, realistic roles which bely his pretty-boy reputation in American television and film. Good for him for taking on this risky career reinvention. Limbo has some of his finest work.

Limbo takes place in a dust-strewn, depressing area of the Australian Outback. (The film was filmed in Coober Pedy, a tiny speck on the Australian map which was known for the mining of opals.) It is a world that is well known by the Indigenous filmmaker Ivan Sen, who gives the town of Limbo an oppressive sense of heat, dirtiness and desperation, which is only enhanced by the film’s crisp black and white cinematography. The film is an arid, oppressively sun-drenched film noir. (And yes, I get the fact that sunny and noir seem to be a contradiction in terms but watch Limbo and you’ll see.)

Travis may be a visitor to the town, but you realize quickly that he knows this kind of place well, and the town’s decrepit sense of sweltering rot mirrors the policeman’s psyche. Still, despite his depression and pessimism, Travis does believe in justice, and he does seem to truly want to help solve the case, no matter how futile his efforts may be.

He enters into a fragile relationship with the town and its citizens. He particularly connects with the victim’s brother Charlie (Rob Collins), with whom he even eventually reaches the tentative beginnings of a friendship, and his estranged other sister Emma (Natasha Wanganeen), who becomes almost a wife-figure to Travis, although in a platonic manner.

Even if Travis can’t give them an answer about their sister’s fate – and neither of them seem to expect an answer to be possible – perhaps Travis can mend the rift between the siblings and come to terms with some of his own demons.

There are no happy endings in Limbo, just a sense of incremental healing. Maybe that is all anyone can expect in that world.

Jay S. Jacobs

Copyright ©2024 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: March 22, 2024.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Hey! Idk if this is the place to put my thoughts but I love your blog and would love to hear your thoughts on this!

(For background, I’m Greek American from two Greek parents who, for many reasons, did not teach me Greek or expose me to a lot of things from our culture. So most of my experiences with the culture come through my Yiayia, who tells me stories about her younger days in Greece, plays Greek music, and cooks Greek food, but her English is not great and I don’t see her very often, so she can only show me so much)

Going off of what someone said about how cool Percy Jackson would be if the characters had Greek influence or were Greek, I think it would make a lot of sense to have many of the characters go through a diaspora character arc

What I mean by that is that diversity can be shown while still respecting Greek traditions and people. For example, one character might be half Honduran half Greek or a child of black people native to Greece (I forget the name for them but you talked about them in a post once). If Rick Riordan wanted to display a diverse cast, that’s completely fine, because there is no one Greek diaspora experience that encapsulates every Greek diaspora experience due to the natural migration of Greeks around the world. He completely missed an opportunity to talk about the experiences of Greek diaspora and represent the many people who feel disconnected from their culture.

Everyone going to the demigod camp would be an amazing time to show the characters enjoying their Greek heritage (music, food, dances, movies, literature, language learning, traditions, etc.) and their frustration with not learning it sooner. It would be beautiful to see how Greek culture can interact with some of the kids’ other cultures and explore the feelings of third-culture kids. The characters’ relationship with the Greek language could also add so much depth! For example, a character might hear Greek and remember their godly parent singing, or they might hear some traumatic event that happened in childhood. They would all probably have an innate connection with Greek, but they may or may not be fluent, which could allow for an interesting exploration into the unique relationship between Greek diaspora and their mother tongue.

I feel like, even though such explorations would focus on Greek culture specifically, many other ethnic diaspora could relate heavily to it, even if they aren’t Greek! It was such a missed opportunity to represent an EXTREMELY underrepresented experience and to accurately and respectfully represent Greek people.

I could write an essay on this but I’ll stop here. Please don’t feel pressured to put this on your blog I just wanted to write it out and have someone else look at it! You’re doing such good things with this blog, bringing comfort to many diaspora like myself, so please keep up the good work (not to your own detriment, though, please be safe and healthy first)!

Ευχαριστώ Θείτσα!

Γεια σου πουλάκι μου! Να σαι καλά!

Actually this is the most AMAZING idea I've heard for improving the pjo story!!

It was extremely bad that Greeks/Hellenismos of diaspora were excluded from the camp. The world saw just the names of gods and not actual Greek culture. They have no idea how it looks like and thus they can also not guess how it looked like. Not even in the recent series we have such representation, from what I know.

Exploring all the facets of Hellenic diaspora would be such a GREAT thing to see! I can't believe the world missed the chance to see it 😭 Sure one writer is not an expert on all diaspora matters but we are so starved for cultural representation that just the basic stuff would be a big improvement and bring happiness to so many of us.

But also...I invite writers to write the thing themselves, since no one is giving it to us. Again, this is such a great idea και δε θέλω να πάει χαμένη 😁

Feel free to send more messages and asks if you like!

[astonishinglegends]

Ep 269: The Hitchhiker of Mogollon Rim

"The trickster is found worldwide. Superficially, his tales seem little more than entertaining stories for children, but they encode important truths. The trickster is central to many religious beliefs, and some of the tales are sacred. In fact, a number of cultures permit only a few persons to tell the stories and restrict when they can be told because they have a power of their own."  -- "The Trickster and the Paranormal," by George P. Hansen

Description:

The Mogollon Rim in northcentral Arizona is a geological landform that spans around 200 miles east to west, demarking the southern boundary of the Colorado Plateau in the state. This topographical feature is classified as an escarpment where wide and steeply sloping cliffs and rock masses delineate the high pine-covered plateau on the northern side, which receives cold winter temperatures and light snow from the desert-like conditions below to the south. This transitional nature provides a habitat for significantly varying types of plants and animals. Perhaps because of Mogollon Rim’s liminal nature, this variance is claimed by many to also extend to creatures and phenomena that dwell beyond our understanding. Accounts and legends of UFOs, supernatural occurrences, and even its own brand of a hominin-like beast known as the “Mogollon Monster” are familiar to the territory. The supernatural element became all too real for our guest, Jay, who endured a terrifying encounter while working as a wildlife biologist for the Arizona Game and Fish Department. While studying black bears in the rugged canyons and terrain of the Rim, Jay encountered an impossible stranger in a pretty unlikely place, one that insisted on getting a ride. But who or what was this thing, and what was their intention? An ancient spirit known to the Native American cultures of the region or a physical being with mystical powers masquerading as a weird human? While it is never advisable to pick up strangers, it seems that one may be compelled to give a ride to a hitchhiker on Mogollon Rim, maybe as just a playful reminder that humans are not the apex of the paranormal food chain.

Reference Links:

CLICK HERE to listen to “Astonishing Al’s Mix Tape” on Spotify

CLICK HERE to listen to “Astonishing Legends Creepit” – a curated collection of our creepiest episodes on Spotify!

Mogollon Rim on Wikipedia

Mogollon culture on Wikipedia

Navajo

Escarpment

Madrean Sky Islands

Sky island

“Mogollon Monster 100” trail race

Mogollon Monster

The Mogollon Monster from Weird U.S.

“Bigfoot sightings abound in early Rim Country history” from the Payson Roundup, Tuesday, March 1, 2016

“Arizonan Legends” from the Horizon Sun, April 1, 2017

“Rim Country Places” from the Rim Review, January 22, 2014

“Ask Clay: Gather round for tales of the Mogollon Monster” from azcentral.com

“Searching for the Mogollon Monster” from Williams - Grand Canyon News

“Story, video: Apaches go public with Bigfoot sightings: 'It cannot be ignored any longer'“ from Tucson.com

“40 years later: Most documented UFO sighting, abduction still draw interest” from the White Mountain Independent

The Mogollon Monster YouTube channel

“The Legend Of The Mogollon Monster In Arizona May Send Chills Down Your Spine” from Only in Your State

Arizona Game & Fish Department

Location:

Mogollon Rim, Arizona

Suggested Listening:

Badlands

Badlands is an anthology series that blends history and true crime to tell the transgressive stories of some of the biggest names in Hollywood. This is not the Hollywood history you’ve heard before. These are uncensored, immersive, edge-of-your-seat storytelling. Host Jake Brennan, creator and host of the award-winning music and true crime podcast DISGRACELAND, explores the most insane stories surrounding the world’s most interesting Hollywood icons. Badlands has covered many actors, directors, and more, including the mysterious deaths of Marilyn Monroe and Natalie Wood... Tim Allen’s former career as a low-level drug dealer... the curse of the movie Poltergeist... how porn star John Holmes got caught up in the infamous Wonderland murders... and more episodes on Winona Ryder, Johnny Depp, River Phoenix, Gianni Versace, Robin Williams, Heath Ledger, Sharon Tate, Robert Downey Jr., and so many more. New episodes of Badlands are released every Wednesday, with bonus episodes released every Friday. Subscribe to Badlands on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, the iHeartRadio app, AmazonMusic, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Opening the Doors

Hear Forrest as a guest on our good friend Bradley Netherton’s podcast, Opening the Doors, all about the legendary band with Jim Morrison! This episode covers all the mentions of The Doors on The Simpsons animated series.

KLU Podcast – Keep Looking up

CLICK HERE for Persephone Holloway’s podcast, KLU “Keep Looking Up” on Podbean

Persephone May Holloway’s music on Spotify

Southern gothic podcast

Listen to our good friend Brandon Schexnayder’s Southern Gothic podcast, featuring Forrest narrating Edgar Allen Poe’s poem, Annabelle Lee

Find us on YouTube!

Click this text to find all Astonishing Legends episodes and more on our Youtube Channel https://www.youtube.com/c/Astonishinglegends

Join us on Patreon!

Click HERE or go to patreon.com/astonishinglegends to become one of our Patreon members and receive exclusive offerings, like our bonus Astonishing Junk Drawer episodes (posted every weekend the main show is dark) commercial-free episodes, and more!

SPECIAL OFFERS FROM OUR SPECIAL SPONSORS:

FIND OTHER GREAT DEALS FROM OUR SHOW’S SPONSORS BY CLICKING HERE!

CREDITS:

Episode 269: The Hitchhiker of Mogollon Rim. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess; Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel of VW Sound. Music and Sound Design by Allen Carrescia. Tess Pfeifle, Producer and Lead Researcher. Ed Voccola, Technical Producer. Research Support from The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2023 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

[spacesapphist]

My 10 Favorite Plays I Read in 2022

Stage Kiss by Sarah Ruhl (2011)

“Art imitates Life. Life imitates Art. When two actors with a history are thrown together as romantic leads in a forgotten 1930s melodrama, they quickly lose touch with reality as the story onstage follows them offstage.” (Concord Theatricals)

Trifles by Susan Glaspell (1916)

“In a small Iowa farmhouse, surly and reclusive farmer John Wright was found murdered. His apathetic wife Minnie is the prime and only suspect, and sitting in jail for the crime. Now, a small group of people enter the home, looking for the clues that would explain why a woman would suddenly strangle her husband in the night. While County Attorney Henderson, Sheriff Peters, and neighbor Mr. Hale roam the house looking for clues, the women (Mrs. Peters and Mrs. Hale) examine the “trifles” of a country kitchen, such as frozen jars of preserves and a poorly sewn quilt. But as the women look closer at Minnie’s world, they make a bone-chilling discovery. Inspired by a true story, Susan Glaspell’s Trifles is a seminal play of early 20th-century American theatre and helped define American realism as we know it.” (StageAgent)

Peerless by Jiehae Park (2017)

“Asian-American twins M and L have given up everything to get into The College. So when D, a one-sixteenth Native American classmate, gets “their” spot instead, they figure they’ve got only one option: kill him. A darkly comedic take on Shakespeare’s Macbeth about the very ambitious and the cut-throat world of high school during college admissions.” (Concord Theatricals)

Blue Stockings by Jessica Swale (2013)

“1896. Girton College, Cambridge, the first college in Britain to admit women. ...In Jessica Swale's debut play, Blue Stockings, Tess Moffat and her fellow first years are determined to win the right to graduate. But little do they anticipate the hurdles in their way: the distractions of love, the cruelty of the class divide or the strength of the opposition, who will do anything to stop them. The play follows them over one tumultuous academic year, in their fight to change the future of education.” (Nick Hern Books)

Harvest by Manjula Padmanabhan (1998)

“A dark satire, Harvest tells the story of an impoverished family and the Faustian contract they enter into with a shadowy international corporation: fabulous wealth in exchange for the organs of one of its members. As Ginni, the glamorous American woman who hopes to receive the organs, invades their one-room home via an interactive video device, the play lays bare the transactional nature of human relationships–even the most intimate ones.” (Hachette India)

Nell Gwynn by Jessica Swale (2016)

“London, 1660. King Charles II has exploded onto the scene with a love of all things loud, extravagant and sexy. And at Drury Lane, a young Nell Gwynn is causing stirrings amongst the theatregoers. Nell Gwynn charts the rise of an unlikely heroine, from her roots in Coal Yard Alley to her success as Britain's most celebrated actress, and her hard-won place in the heart of the King. But at a time when women are second-class citizens, can her charm and spirit protect her from the dangers of the Court?” (Nick Hern Books)

How I Learned to Drive by Paula Vogel (1997)

“A wildly funny, surprising and devastating tale of survival as seen through the lens of a troubling relationship between a young girl and an older man. HOW I LEARNED TO DRIVE is the story of a woman who learns the rules of the road and life from behind the wheel.” (Concord Theatricals)

Tipping the Velvet by Laura Wade (2015), adapted from the novel by Sarah Waters

“It's 1887 and Nancy Astley sits in the audience at her local music hall: she doesn't know it yet, but the next act on the bill will change her life. Tonight is the night she'll fall in love… with the thrill of the stage and with Kitty Butler, a girl who wears trousers. Giddy with desire and hungry for experience, Nancy follows Kitty to London where unimaginable adventures await.” (Bloomsbury)

King Charles III by Mike Bartlett (2014)

Written in the style and structure of a Shakespeare play, King Charles III is a future history play which follows Charles’ ascent to the throne.  “Prince Charles has waited his entire life to ascend to the British throne. But after the Queen’s death, he immediately finds himself wrestling his conscience over a bill to sign into law. With the future of the monarchy under threat, protests on the streets, and his family in disarray, Charles must grapple with his own identity and purpose, to decide whether, in the twenty-first century, the British crown still has any real power.” (PBS)

In the Other Room, Or the Vibrator Play by Sarah Ruhl (2009)

“Set in the 1880s at the dawn of the age of electricity and based on the bizarre historical fact that doctors used vibrators to treat 'hysterical' women (and some men), the play centers on a doctor and his wife and how his new therapy affects their entire household.” (Concord Theatricals)

[protoslacker]

Linny Hoo

I watched a music video, Linny Hoo, that's a viral Internet sensation. It's a mash up between a young Malawian Gospel singer, Patrice Namadingo and another Malawian musician Giddess Chalamanda who was 90 when the video was recorded in 2020. 

Since portions of the video went viral, the story of Giddess Chalamanda has thickened a lot. I won't try to tell the story here because part of the charm of Internet sensations is the links and connections that people follow once curiousity is piqued.

One of my curiosities was that Giddess wrote a song in the 1960s entitled "Buffalo Soldier." The song features  prominently in stories about Giddess and how he dreamed of visiting the USA. He did visit in 2016. 

I can’t find the link that sent me down a rabbit hole about the song, but it suggested that Giddess may have read a book By William Leckie and Shirely Leckie, The Buffalo Soldiers.

William Leckie served in World War II and according to his obituary:”

“[H]e briefly commanded an African American battalion of soldiers, and the prejudice they encountered while serving in uniform later led him to write the history of black cavalrymen in the post-Civil War army in the American West.”

Shirley Leckie is an academic historian and among her published works is a biography Angie Debo: Pioneering Historian.  Debo was a historian of renown. The Wikipedia article on Debo begins:

“Angie Elbertha Debo (January 30, 1890 – February 21, 1988),[1] was an American historian who wrote 13 books and hundreds of articles about Native American and Oklahoma history.[2] After a long career marked by difficulties (ascribed both to her gender and to the controversial content of some of her books), she was acclaimed as Oklahoma's "greatest historian"[3] and acknowledged as "an authority on Native American history, a visionary, and an historical heroine in her own right."[4]”

My links from song to stories of American historians is idiosyncratic. Some of my favorite stories are about how songs jump borders. Idiosyncracy and personal links are part of how songs do it. Millions of people have listened to Namandingo and Giddess thanks to the Internet.  Giddess Chalamanda singing about buffalo soldiers has sparked people's curiousity around the globe.  Our lives gain meaning when we’re interested in stories about people and  the historical contexts. Simple as they maybe, songs have a remarkable quality of sharing meaning acorss differences. 

The Global Voices article on Namandingo is a great place to begin exploring music of Malawi, as is the Music of Malawi blog.

[lv-creator]

Pearl Jam's 'Ten': A Look Back at the Grunge Classic that Launched a Generation

Before the release of "Ten," Pearl Jam had gone through several lineup changes and lead singers. It wasn't until they met Eddie Vedder that the band truly found its sound and identity. Vedder, a San Diego native, was working as a gas station attendant when he received a demo tape from the band. He was so moved by the lyrics and music that he recorded his own vocals over the tracks and sent them back to the band. The rest is history. Vedder's powerful, emotive voice and his ability to connect with the lyrics on a personal level gave the band a unique and compelling sound that set them apart from other bands in the Seattle scene.

When Pearl Jam released "Ten" in 1991, they were part of a burgeoning Seattle music scene that would soon be dubbed "grunge." However, while bands like Nirvana and Soundgarden were starting to gain mainstream success, Pearl Jam were still relatively unknown. That all changed with the release of "Ten."

The album, which featured hits like "Jeremy" and "Alive," was a commercial and critical success, eventually selling over 13 million copies in the US alone. The band's raw, emotive sound and socially conscious lyrics resonated with listeners, and Pearl Jam quickly became one of the biggest bands in the world.

One of the standout tracks on "Ten" is "Jeremy." The song, which tells the story of a troubled high school student who ultimately takes his own life, was a hit for the band and its accompanying music video, directed by Mark Pellington, was in heavy rotation on MTV. However, the video was also controversial due to its depiction of the suicide and was ultimately censored.

At the time of the album's release, Pearl Jam were often compared to Nirvana, another band from the Seattle scene. However, the two bands had a somewhat fraught relationship, with Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain publicly criticizing Pearl Jam for their commercial success. Despite this, "Ten" cemented Pearl Jam's place in rock history as one of the defining albums of the 90s.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider liking, sharing, and commenting on it.

[cebwrites]

and everyday, i add another stone

canon x oc (Lawrin) he/they law, angst(?) word count: 0.7k

Many changes would shake the world following the events of Marineford, both big and small. One of them being the commodification of the Tone Dial, courtesy of Brook and his music along his road to stardom, but of course once they were in circulation, that wasn’t the only thing the public used it for.

Law hunched over the strange device on their workspace, inspecting it briefly but otherwise still seemed apprehensive. Their partner had assured him that it was perfectly harmless as he explained how to use it, following Law’s initial scrutinous gaze.

Kirin had laughed back then, peppered butterfly kisses across Law’s cheeks. They pushed those thoughts aside. They were having a hard time trying to focus tonight, too many thoughts filling up too little space, so a distraction was needed. Among other functions, Kirin also mentioned that he’d recorded something on this TD to serve as an example, a reading of some story off his shelf.

Switching it on, the tension in their shoulders gradually fizzled out as Law heard his partner rummaging around and fiddling through the sky island native device’s buttons. 

The reading was amateurish - being nice about it; Kirin kept getting distracted, talking about things unrelated, clearing his throat, and Law could hear ambient noises from the crew throughout, as if he hadn’t kept in one place while reading. It was good enough background noise, though, the Heart captain was back to being buried in his studies within the hour.

Kirin in the recording seemed to find his rhythm, too, managing to find a relatively quiet spot and from them on the disturbances were kept to a minimum.

If you asked him, Law probably wouldn’t be able to tell you what the actual plot of the book was. It’s genre was romance, nothing they were interested in and frankly was grateful for since if Kirin had read something he did like, Law probably wouldn’t be paying much attention to his own work.

Law leaned back in their chair to stretch, satisfied with how much he’d been able to get done that day. Glancing at the clock that adorned his wall, they noted that Penguin would be up here in a few to call them down for dinner. His gaze turned towards the Tone Dial, its use no longer needed - their attention was caught before Law could turn it off, however.

「 These words only carry a fraction of my feelings for you. They are as vast as the ocean that keeps us apart. 

I long to feel your lips on mine and caress the intricate lines on your body. 

My soul yearns for you, ekes out what solace it can find until we are joined again, whole. 

You’ve lit a fire in my chest and it consumes my flesh evermore, burning desire only tapered by the warmth I feel by your side, darling. 

My being aches in your absence.

Sweetheart, my dearest moonlight - wait for me. 」

Something hollow made itself known in their chest, a viscous sinking feeling in the depth of their stomach followed suit - how long had it been since he made the decision to cut contact? About a month ago, but there were already two messages on their snail phone that Law refused to listen to.

This was their compromise - a way to hear his partner’s voice without letting his emotions sway them. That was the plan, anyway.

The plan for what, exactly - shutting everyone out so you could die guiltlessly at Doffy’s hand?

A knock at the door breaks Law out of their stupor, blinks the pooling moisture from their eyes, too, as they tell whoever it is on the other wise that he’d be out in a minute. Stewing in his feelings, he feels like he might need a little longer but simply suppresses those inclinations like everything else up until this point.

He’d made up his mind, taking down Doflamingo came first and Law wouldn’t forgive themselves if anyone got hurt fighting his battles more people meant more liabilities. This was their past to put to rest, and theirs alone.

But if he did survive, well, he’d simply have to make sure that Kirin didn’t live down his poeticism.

[marta-bee]

Marta Rereads the Silmarillion: The Valaquenta

I’m finally getting back to rereading the Silmarillion, specifically the Valaquenta.

If you’ve never read it the Valaquenta is a sort of dramatis personae for the Valar and the more important Maiar, talking about their special domains, their relationships to each other, along with little bits and bobs of their doings from the early history of Ea. A lot of it’s pretty dry stuff, but one character always catches my fancy. Maybe it’s because for a god he’s a bit off the beaten path from what you’d expect. Maybe it’s his involvement much later in the Akallabeth (the Numenoreans along with the Gondorians have always been my first passion). Or maybe it’s just that Ulmo is just so ever-loving cool.

Here’s how Jirt introduces him:

Ulmo is the Lord of Waters. He is alone. He dwells nowhere long, but moves as he will in all the deep waters about the Earth or under the Earth. He is next in might to Manwe, and before Valinor was made he was closest to him in friendship; but thereafter he went seldom to the councils of the Valar, unless great matters were in debate. For he kept all Arda in thought, and he has no need of any resting-place. Moreover he does not love to walk upon land, and will seldom clothe himself in a body after the manner of his peers. If the Children of Eru beheld him they were filled with a great dread; for the arising of the King of the Sea was terrible, as a mounting wave that strides to the land, with dark helm foam-crested and raiment of mail shimmering from silver down into shadows of green. The trumpets of Manwe are loud, but Ulmo's voice is deep as the deeps of the ocean which he only has seen.

Nonetheless Ulmo loves both Elves and Men, and never abandons them, not even when they lay under the wrath of the Valar. At times he will come unseen to the shores of Middle-earth, or pass far inland up firths of the sea, and there make music upon his great horns, the Ulumuri, that are wrought of white shell; and those to whom that music comes hear it ever after in their hearts, and longing for the sea never leaves them again. But mostly Ulmo speaks to those who dwell in Middle-earth with voices that are heard only as the music of the water. For all seas, lakes, rivers, fountains and springs are in his government; so that the Elves say that the spirit of Ulmo runs in all the veins of the world. Thus news comes to Ulmo, even in the deeps, of all the needs and griefs of Arda, which otherwise would be hidden from Manwe.

So if you’re like me an often a bit irked by how standoffish a lot of the Valar are, good news: Ulmo’s not quite like that. He’s more aware of what Elves and Men are going to be dealing with, and while he’s not always hanging out with them, though he only rarely has close dealings with them. He’s sort of carved out his own domain in the waters of the deep.

That’s fascinating to me because it’s really close to what Melkor was after: a domain where he could be his own lord and create things that weren’t preordained by Eru. He wants to be master of his own domain, and because he was sensible enough to find a space no one was all that concerned with anyway, he’s sort of just allowed to do it. What’s he getting up to down there? No one really knows, and weirdly enough they’re okay with that.

(I’m imagining Aule’s crafting of the dwarves, which we’ll get to in a few chapters. For all we know Ulmo’s doing much the same thing. He seems like the type somehow; it’s just that because he’s not living in Valinor, it’s not going to be noticed.)

He’s also flat-out terrifying. There’s an echo of the Christian nativity story, of the angels telling the shepherds in the field “BE NOT AFRAID” as they hover overhead with their massive forms and thousands of all-seeing eyes and the ethereal/transcendent booming voice that is beyond the experience of the created kin. When Ulmo speaks up, you need to be reminded to “Be not afraid.” And speaking as someone who’s heard conch-shells being blown, describing it as music is a very generous description. This is the closest thing the Valar have to an emissary for the Eruhini, the Elves and Men, and isn’t that just lovely; and also, predictable.

For all that, his element of water is still highly connected to Iluvatar’s plan and the Great Song. Tolkien wrote in the Ainulindale how water would carry the imprint, the afterecho, of the Great Song, even long after it was over and the primary world was created. If anything, you’d think the master of waters would have less room to do his own things; but Ulmo’s going to end up more likely to go against the common opinion of the rest of the Valar. He’s not a rebel particularly, but definitely does his own Thing.

Speaking of rebels, no post about Ulmo would be complete without talking about his best-known Maiar:

But of all the Maiar Ossë and Uinen are best known to the Children of Ilúvatar.

Ossë is a vassal of Ulmo, and he is master of the seas that wash the shores of Middle-earth. He does not go in the deeps, but loves the coasts and the isles, and rejoices in the winds of Manwë; for in storm he delights, and laughs amid the roaring of the waves. His spouse is Uinen, the Lady of the Seas, whose hair lies spread through all waters under sky. All creatures she loves that live in the salt streams, and all weeds that grow there; to her mariners cry, for she can lay calm upon the waves, restraining the wildness of Ossë. The Númenóreans lived long in her protection, and held her in reverence equal to the Valar.

Melkor hated the Sea, for he could not subdue it. It is said that in the making of Arda he endeavoured to draw Ossë to his allegiance, promising to him all the realm and power of Ulmo, if he would serve him. So it was that long ago there arose great tumults in the sea that wrought ruin to the lands. But Uinen, at the prayer of Aulë, restrained Ossë and brought him before Ulmo; and he was pardoned and returned to his allegiance, to which he has remained faithful. For the most part; for the delight in violence has never wholly departed from him, and at times he will rage in his wilfulness without any command from Ulmo his lord. Therefore those who dwell by the sea or go up in ships may love him, but they do not trust him.

Maiar were originally described as children of specific Ainur, though that’s not hard and fast, and servants or lieutenants often works as well. And what a duo to have attached to your name! One flat out turncoat (later --and partially-- reformed), one wife restraining and pleading on behalf of said turncoat but never quite managing to keep him entirely in line, to the  point you have to wonder just how hard she was trying. I can easily see Uinen putting a polite face after Osse runs amok and satisfying the social niceties, but quietly smiling at his shenanigans.

It’s a fun pair of minor characters to think about, especially as they’re just begging to be written into the folklore of men and elves along the coasts. I actually did just that: a Dol Amroth drinking song about how they might think of these masters of the shore. More fanfic authors should make use of them because they’re just that much fun.

Secretly, I suspect the only reason Ulmo doesn’t attract more flack is Aule’s Maiar are so much worse; but that’s for a later chapter. I doubt he minds, though.

[hillbillyhippiemusicreview]

MARCH ON INTO THIS MONTH WITH SOME MUST HEAR “ROAR”SOME RECORDS

Reviewed by: Lyssa Culbertson

Y’all know that old saying that begins “March comes in like a lion?” Well, we’d be “lion” if we told you it came in gentle like a lamb with new music releases—and we’re truthers over here! 🤠Several fantastic records were released today or in recent weeks, positively roaring their way into airwaves and earholes everywhere. Keep reading to see what we think ya ought to be listening to:

Dalton Mills—

A true Kentucky King, singer-songwriter Mills released his sophomore album, A Good Place to Hide, today and we expect it to garner just as much critical acclaim as his debut. The collection of songs are charmingly stoic at times, yet melodically poetic and hauntingly beautiful per the course for a Dalton Mills track. Mills has curated a fantastic selection of tunes celebrating life, love, and dreams while also focusing his lyrical attention on the framework of despair and the darker side of living. There’s even a lovely little instrumental ditty that is fresh and sunshiney—perfect for a warm summer evening “Flyin” down a mountain road looking for a “Good Place to Hide” as the “Blue Ridge Skyline” is “Fadin’.” (Listen to the record to see what I did there). For Guy Clark fans, make sure you dig in deep to find a lovely ‘lil tribute to the legendary troubadour. Speaking of troubadour status, Mills is well on his way to becoming an iconic folk balladeer for years to come. We could certainly sit here and analyze the depth behind every word and chord because there is so much depth to his work, but we want you to hear it for yourself—prepare your souls, friends!

Our favorite? The first track, “Ain’t Just a Dream” is a poignant take on the intricacies of a life lived on the road, giving your soul to the highway song and the crowds that sing along. The way he vocally paints a picture of the “spellbound scene” is sure to have listeners hooked through the last note of the last song, the same way he captivates attendees at shows with his stories along the way.

Addison Johnson—

Readers may be unfamiliar with North Carolina’s native son Johnson, but if so, we’re here to tell y’all it’s well past time to get acquainted! An artist who effortlessly bridges the gap between classic honky tonk (God loves a pedal steel) and new wave country, his sophomore record definitely deserves a spin on your turntable and a permanent place in your collection. Sonically, it’s solidly sound and Johnson’s adept storytelling skills leave little to be desired in his writing—he willfully lays all his cards out in the table. Despite the seemingly lighthearted sound to a number of the songs, be sure to pay attention to the lyrics and the thematic content woven throughout the record. “Dangerous Men” isn’t just an album name and the title track, it denotes a underlying connection between the tunes on this concept record that is eager to explore all the ways life can make a good man dangerous, because we’re all merely a few steps away from the taking a ride down the wrong side of the tracks. From barroom ballads worthy of a broken-hearted jukebox like “Out of Control” to road-warrior ready jams such as “High Way” (featuring Alex Williams), this release has a little something for everyone. Hop on for a transient trip through the curves and curses of life with Johnson and we promise you’ll never wanna jump off—Hippie’s honor! 🤞🏻

Our favorite? Rounding out the record of tunes both celebrating and lamenting the sometimes darker parts of life, “Reason to Run” is a transparent, self-reflecting track that focuses on the importance of honoring who you are and chasing dreams despite what the world tries to tell you. It ain’t easy being a travelin’ man, but man…the beautiful things you get to see—and sing about!

Lance Rogers—

A relatively recent newcomer to playing music over the past several years, Rogers quickly hit the pavement paying dues as he found himself while honing his sound and it’s come to fruition in a telling way with his sophomore record, Too Late for Flowers. As a complex, diverse human with a myriad of life experiences, Rogers is able to effortlessly translate that to his music full of various influences from his soul journey—the mark of a bonafide creative. This collection of songs is not only reflective of who he is as a person and an artist, brimming with foot-stomping barn burners and heartfelt ballads that tell a deeper tale than the music may sound. Featuring tunes on various subjects rather than one concurrent theme, the songs lend to the stark and sensitive sides of his eclectic essence, so to speak. Though past releases have been nothing less than excellent, Rogers seems to have found both his true voice and direction while dialing into the depth of both his songwriting and delivery. For his steadfast followers, the record features a few fan favorites he’s cultivated throughout the years but with enough new tunes to satiate even the biggest hunger for new music.

Our favorite? The closing track, “Breathe for Two” is a breath of fresh air at the end of what culminates as a stand-out release for Rogers. It shows off the softer, melodic side of his vocals and songwriting, and is such a lovely song. The interesting production at the end will make you press pause and rewind for at least *one* more listen, but we’re positive you’ll lend it several.

Jordan Lee King—

Authentically Appalachian, King’s debut record draws from the mountains that surround him and the music that abounds. Though he is a recent newcomer to the scene, one listen to his ability to weave a story through time and space with his music, and you’d be none the wiser. The merit to his music can be found in it’s simplistic honesty, focusing on the trials and tribulations of a life well lived growing up in the hollers and hills. As you listen, you can’t help but become immersed in the stories as if you’re there, sitting on PaPaw’s porch pickin’ and grinnin’ true stories as if they’re merely forklore and fantasies as barefoot babes run wild and free, immune to the hardships of life being sung about. Featuring effortless harmonies and duets by the enigmatic Lucas Wayne, the songs are brimming with brightness amidst the darkness they sing of, an almost perplexing dichotomy reminiscent of a long ago time living amongst the present for those who truly listen to the message. For a debut record, we truly could not ask for more—is it on vinyl yet?!

Our favorite? The title track, “By and By”. Whew….for someone who usually has all the words, I fail to find them here. Part sweet Southern hymn, part fantastic folk tune, it details the singers’ desires for their one day home away in the sky—the added acapella recording of “This Little Light of Mine” brings a tear to the eye of sweet memories of the smell of honeysuckle and outdoor tables brimming with casserole concoctions from the church house on any Homecoming Sunday as MawMaw sang harmony in the choir, long before the ones we loved sang harmony with the angels in the kinds of heavenly homes the song dreams about. Perfection.

Trey Lewis—

Being Alabama’s resident “Troublemaker” can be a hard job, but someone’s gotta do it—and troublemaker Trey Lewis is the prime example of the well-worn phrase “don’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Though we’ve been fans of Lewis’s for a long time now, we realize that he was first introduced to and gained many fans (and foes) with his first (accidental) #1 hit. Y’all probably know the one. Yeah, THAT one. However, we know the man—and the talent—behind the music and can certifiably say despite whatever your opinion may be on that, he’s quite the talented songwriter. While we can point to many past singles and records, as well as unreleased tracks, that support that notion, there are plenty on his latest album Troublemaker that we think music lovers will appreciate! Sonically and stylistically, the record is a 180 from the others on this list, but as they say variety is the spice of life! Backed by some of Nashville’s rather fresh crop of talent—along with some country legends—from songwriters to musicians, Lewis put out a backroad ready record of fun homegrown sing-alongs perfect for sunshine fueled adventures with a few lovey-dovey tracks perfect for that iconic summer romance. If you lean more towards a radio-friendly than indie folk tunes, this is the record for you! This collection of tunes expertly displays all sides of Lewis’s personality in one nice package with the silly and serious woven together in a few songs. Compared to previous album releases, the record explores a different sound—both with his vocal tone and overall sound—and it’s working for him. Though he can, and has, shown skill in a variety or musical styles over his tenure as a musician, to us the “Troublemaker” has finally settled into who he is as an artist, even if he’ll never settle down.

Our favorite? The title track, “Troublemaker,” is an affecting look at a wrong way running kinda life from the reflective perspective of a child to the lived-in lens of an adult bearing the scars while figuring out his place in life. As the former outlaw kids who evolved into the black sheep of our adult worlds, we wholeheartedly relate.

What are YOU listening to? Be sure to follow us on our socials for the latest music content over on TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube!

[ulloapiero]

"Preserving the Flow: A Water Conservation Crusade"

Story: A story or narrative is a connected series of events told through words (written or spoken), imagery (still and moving), body language, performance, music, or any other form of communication. You can tell a story about anything, and the events described can be real or imaginary; covering both fiction and nonfiction; and leaving no topic, genre, or style untouched. 

Tales: A story, especially one that might be invented or difficult to believe

Science Fiction: Science fiction is a form of fiction that deals principally with the impact of actual or imagined science upon society or individuals.

In my present we are in the years 2050, some schools are beginning to close because of the lack of water,  all the safari parks had to close because they started to build buildings in order to bring more water to the world.so my friends and I met in a café with gourmet food to see what we could do, Ivan brought some robots to investigate the few water areas left in the country, Xavier investigated some methods to not waste much water, while Jara stayed eating taco and chocolate because of the pressure, and I discovered a method for time travel through a handshake. In the first place, our mission was only to keep our school, Interamericano, from closing, but when we saw how the situation was going, we saw that we could do more, but we could make a lot of mistakes.

Piero took the lead, with an imposing presence. “We needed someone who understand the intricate science of water management”. Piero suggested applying ancient aqueduct systems and modern decentralized water purification technologies, fostering a sustainable balance between human needs and environmental preservation.

As we navigated the unforgiving terrain, Xavier delved into the history of water management practices. He teachs locals the ancient agricultural wisdom of civilizations such as the Incas, whose terraced fields conserved water and preserved soil fertility. But at one point he began to think, "This must be karma for not taking care of the water like our ancestors”. But then he focused on combine these traditional practices with cutting-edge modern technologies, optimizing the use of water for agriculture.

Ivan, offered his vision of creating an efficient and energy-neutral desalination process. His proposal included a unique device such as the famous physicist Nikola Tesla, but the difference is that he built a robot which harnessed atmospheric energy to power desalination plants, ensuring a sustainable source of fresh water.

Meanwhile Jara, was an advocate of maintaining ecological balance in this parched world. He spoke passionately about using permaculture principles to rebuild devastated ecosystems. By reintroducing native flora, conserving water and using innovative hydrophilic materials to enhance rainfall, Jara aimed to create an oasis of life in this desert.

Our approach was multifaceted, a tapestry of solutions drawn from different eras. We were determined to harness the collective wisdom of history, fusing it with futuristic technology to address this impending disaster. With each idea we faced new challenges, but our unity and determination gave us the strength to overcome them.

After all, time travel had its complexities, and the consequences of our actions remained uncertain. Some of us had déjá vu due to the consequences of time travel. But thanks to our teamwork, we were able to move forward with the hope of transmitting a message to the future: a message that transcended time and space, a message of unity, innovation and responsibility for our world's most precious resource. To conclude, we set ourselves a very risky mission in which our present could have been affected if we did not do things correctly, but we succeeded and managed to promote the care of water and with this we were able to achieve our goal that no school closes due to lack of water.

Admin. (2018, November 3). Story: Definition and Examples | Literary Terms. Literary Terms. https://literaryterms.net/story/

tale. (2023). https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/tale

Sterling, B. (1998b, July 20). Science fiction | Definition, Characteristics, Books, Movies, Authors, Examples, & Facts. Encyclopedia Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/art/science-fiction

I created this image using the hotpot website, using the Hotpot Art 11 style I was able to create an image that is based on my friends and I going back in time to save the future from water scarcity.

[princesssarisa]

Sleeping Beauty Spring: "The Sleeping Beauty" (1954 silhouette animated short)

Lotte Reiniger, whose career spanned from the 1920s through the 1970s, was one of animation's great pioneers. Her delicately beautiful silhouette animation, a form of stop-motion that she created by backlighting flat cutouts of paper or wood, was some of the first animation used to tell serious stories rather than just for comedy. Her 1926 film The Adventures of Prince Achmed is the oldest surviving full-length animated feature, predating Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by more than a decade. Over the course of her long career, she made two versions of Sleeping Beauty: one in 1922 in her native Germany, which is apparently lost, and this 10-minute short from 1954, which she produced in London after relocating there.

Despite being British-made, The Sleeping Beauty reflects Reiniger's German origins by following the Grimms' version of the tale, with only a few light embellishments. It opens with the King and Queen overjoyed by the birth of their daughter, Princess Beauty, and planning a celebration. But they find that they own just twelve golden dishes, so one of the kingdom's thirteen fairies goes uninvited. The next day, messengers venture out into nature to invite the fairies – beautiful, floating female figures in wispy dresses and with flowers and leaves in their hair, who sit on flowers or tree branches. At the castle, they accordingly give the baby princess their gifts. But far away, a tiny dragon-like creature informs the thirteenth fairy – a witch-like figure with a long nose and chin, clad in a spiky dress, and associated with thistles – that a feast is taking place without her. She promptly flies to the castle and curses Beauty to prick her finger and die on her fifteenth birthday. But the small, young Rose Fairy softens the curse to a hundred-year sleep. Nonetheless, the King orders all spindles destroyed, and his soldiers are shown taking spindles from weeping peasant women in town.

Fifteen years later, on her birthday, Princess Beauty is wandering in the garden, when she discovers a strange tower a short distance from the castle. From the window, an old woman beckons her. It is, of course, the thirteenth fairy in disguise; Beauty finds her spinning with a drop spindle and sits down to try it herself, only to prick her finger. When she falls asleep, the rest of the court instantly falls asleep too, and majestic snake-like briars surround the castle.

A hundred years later, the Prince discovers the castle, and an old shepherd tells him the legend of Beauty. When he approaches the castle, the thorns part, and he soon discovers the tower where Beauty sleeps in her chair. He kisses her, the spell is broken, Beauty joyfully introduces her Prince to her parents, and the final image shows the outside of the castle as the briars magically vanish.

Like most of Lotte Reiniger's films, this short is silent, but with a male narrator telling the story in voiceover. But while the tale is simply told, the visuals make this version stand out. The delicate beauty of Reiniger's silhouette world, with fluid animation and with intricate details of leaves, flowers, clothing, and Gothic architecture standing out despite the medium of black cardboard cutouts, is perfectly suited to a fairy tale. These visuals are perfectly complimented by the gentle, delicate musical score of Freddie Phillips.

Short and silent though it is, this lovely Sleeping Beauty is a must-see for anyone who loves fairy tale adaptations and uniquely captivating animation.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @faintingheroine, @thealmightyemprex, @the-blue-fairie, @themousefromfantasyland, @reds-revenge, @comma-after-dearest, @autistic-prince-cinderella, @fairytaleslive, @paexgo-rosa, @thatscarletflycatcher

[avaliveradio]

Rock Single ‘Caution Tape’ by Jake Kulak & The Modern Vandals Merges Post-punk revival with Melodic Rock

‘Caution Tape’ by Jake Kulak & The Modern Vandals is an energetic fusion of Indie Rock and Indie Pop that explores themes of self-realization.

I created this track at Berklee while contemplating my own personal growth. Combining guitar interplay, pop songwriting, and Indie Rock melodic ideas, my goal for this track was to merge dancefloor beats with the sensitive yet energetic attitude of early Indie Rock and Post-punk revival music. This song captures the immediacy of dance inspired production by merging synth with intricate guitar interplay and traditional bass and drum rhythms.

Listen to the track on Spotify

Jake Kulak’s signature guitar driven sound tells the story of newly found freedoms that come in tandem with growing pains. Through his honest lyrics, Jake explores the complexity of human connection, and one’s ever changing place in the world. Despite embracing the nostalgia, he never lingers too long on the past. His energetic playing style and dynamic live performances encourage audiences to live in the moment.

Hailing from Hartford County Connecticut, Jake is a young guitar phenom who quickly found his place in the regional music scene. Inspired by the authenticity and raw emotion of the Blues, Jake immersed himself in the genre, thrilling audiences from Norway to Boston, from Sydney to NYC, and down to the Mississippi Delta. He spent five summers playing in the home of the blues - Clarksdale, Mississippi. He has won numerous awards and recognition for his guitar work, performances and songwriting. Jake and his band were nominated for a New England Music Award, performed at the International Blues Challenge in Memphis, and were recognized by the Hartford Courant’s “Best Album by CT Musicians” - all while still in high school.

His original pop song “Better” was chosen as a semi-finalist in the International Songwriting Competition. Jake also Competed in the Foxwoods Resort Casino’s prestigious “Battle of the Bands” and took home  the $10,000 Grand Prize award.

The Hartford Courant has said “Connecticut native Jake Kulak and his power trio are a must-see act no matter what size stage they are taking. Kulak is a fiery musician with an old soul and a rock aesthetic who wows crowds with his guitar work…they are sure to get the attention  of everyone in earshot”.

Over time, Jake’s style of playing has morphed to reflect his wide range of musical influences. After moving to Boston and graduating from Berklee College of Music, Jake solidified his voice as an artist while maintaining a steady touring schedule.

Social Links & Website: jakekulak.com

https://www.instagram.com/jakekulak

https://www.facebook.com/jakekulakmusic

https://www.tiktok.com/@jake_kulak