#his unflinching honesty in general

[thislovintime]

Peter Tork and Reine Stewart, (in photo 4 with baby Hallie); photos 2 & 3 by Henry Diltz, photo 4 by Nurit Wilde.

A long read, taking a look at Peter from circa 1969 to 1980, with very frank reflections by Peter from the early ‘80s through to 2009.

“[After the end of The Monkees] Tork found out he'd paid half again what his house was worth, so he wouldn't have been able to get back his initial investment, even had he sold it. For a while he leased it to Stephen Stills, who’d gotten over the rejection of not being selected as a Monkee by becoming a superstar on his own, first with Buffalo Springfield, then in a trio with David Crosby and Graham Nash. Tork and his girl friend [Reine Stewart], who was then pregnant, went back East with the idea of becoming organic farmers. Late in 1969 Stills moved out, with a few months of rent paid up, so Tork and his girl friend returned to finish out the decade. ‘We were there for a few months, but it was much less comfortable. Then a fellow came in and took it over, a would-be-guru type, who ran a colony there. When he quit paying the rent, it was foreclosed.’ Next they moved into a house in Beverly Glen owned by David Crosby. Tork's daughter [Hallie] was born there in January 1970. ‘We stayed there for a while, and I became involved with another woman, and my girlfriend and I broke up,’ he said. [...] One lesson, well learned only recently, has put Tork off alcohol since 1980. ‘I was able to change my course as early as I did, relative to some of the stories I've heard, because of my dabblings in Eastern philosophy,’ he said. ‘Because of that spiritual experience I had beforehand on acid (which has since been validated and expanded) and because of a few experiences in community, I've been allowed to recognize that what I really did want to  find on a day-by-day basis was spiritual surrender. Now I am not in charge, not in the sense that somebody else is in charge, but in the sense that what is in charge is larger than I can know by myself, but I have to trust it. ‘I can't ascribe my alcoholism to fame,’ he went on. ‘I can more easily do it the other way around. One of the things about alcoholics, to the extent that I've been able to make any observations, is that we are either above the crowd or below it – or both at the same time. The reason you shoot to be above is because you feel below, and the reason you feel below is because you're not part of, never one of the guys. You envy the people who seem to have a certain contentment. The character makeup that sent me into pop stardom is the same character makeup that sought to anesthetize myself with chemistry. I found that it was not until I put all of that chemistry behind me that I began to get back in touch with my place in the human scheme of things.’” - When The Music Mattered (1984)

Peter Tork: “Yeah, I was a serious substance abuser, I abused some serious substances – and they abused me in return, it was only fair. But I’d like to report now, for the sake of all those who care, that I haven’t abused a single substance in a long time. I’m actually, I’m very happy about it, although I have to say that it has nothing to do with willpower or, you know, strength of character or any of that kind of thing, which a lot of people talk about. It was just surrender, it was just giving up.” Q: “And it was expensive.” PT: “No. It was beer.” Q: “Oh. All right.” PT: “Drank too much beer.” - The Rik Turner Show, January 1994

Peter Tork: “There never was a time I couldn’t drink. My parents let me drink wine if I wanted with dinner, or a sip of cocktails or a bit of beer, nobody ever cared, and I never got too deeply into it when I was young. But it’s pretty clear that everybody’s… that alcoholics have a curve to their disease, to their syndrome, that is basically not affected by life or by anything else, just it’s genetic, it’s in their bones. And I guess my curve hadn’t taken over me, it didn’t… I didn’t even notice I was in trouble until my late thirties. One or two friends of mine knew I was in trouble before that, but not many. [It appears there’s a genetic history] My father died at 86, you know. It’s hard to say that he died of alcoholism, because alcoholics at best die in their sixties, or early sixties, you know, most alcoholics who can survive, who don’t die of anything else, who just die of the organic damage alcohol does to them, die in their sixties. So it’s hard to say, you know. But I think the best teller of the disease; well, there’s two good tells, I think. One of them is: do you drink when it’s against your better interest to do so, and when the information is there that lets you know that it is. And the other is: personality changes, you know. And I used to see my father with personality changes. My mom drank like a fish, but she may not have been an alcoholic, it’s hard to know. But almost certainly my father was. And that’s the only genetic information I have.” (x) [...] Q: “Did anybody approach you, and say, say, 'Peter, man, what are you doing?'” PT: “Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.” Q: “Wow.” PT: “Because I never... because my... listen, I have a very high-bottom story, really. You know, I would get drunk and behave badly one night, and it wouldn’t happen again for months and months and months. And everybody thought, oh, well, Peter’s just, you know, he’s just had a few too many. And it didn’t happen all the time, and, you know, like the man says, you know, 'I didn’t get into trouble every time I picked up a drink; every time I got into trouble, I’d been drinking.' But if your bouts of trouble are months and months apart, as they were with me, nobody notices the pattern until you come back and say, ‘I’m not drinking anymore,’ and they go, ‘Oh, well, that explains such and such,’ you know. A lot of my friends who weren’t drinking noticed sort of more in hindsight. ‘Oh, yeah, now that you tell me this, now that makes more sense than it did before,’ some event in their memories suddenly makes more sense, and that kind of thing. But, so nobody said to me, ‘Peter, Peter, you’re playing in traffic, and you’re going to get hit.’ [...] In my view, one of the things about my being an alcoholic is that it did keep me from applying the kind of concentration that let me be as good a musician as I want to be. In other words, it’s like every so often I would pick up a new instrument, and so if I could only play many fewer instruments and play them all all commensurately better, I think I’d be a happier musician today. [...] I picked up the trumpet the other day. [...] I really would rather concentrate on the things I can do somewhat well rather than waste time doing things I can’t do at all well.” - Take 12 Recovery Radio, (late?) 2000s

“The bottom came for me in June, 1980. Then I managed to quit drinking. The following January I had my last toke of grass and last toot of snow. Since then my career has been puttering along at a steady rate.” - Peter Tork, The Monkees Tale (1989)

“I was never inherently afraid of my situation. When I found myself [in the early 1970s] in a boardinghouse with my daughter [Hallie] in a room for twenty-five dollars a month, sleeping on a mat on the floor, I was not discouraged.” - Peter Tork, When The Music Mattered (1984)

“[In the mid-1970s] I went to Southern California and sort of assembled a family. My daughter [Hallie] from my previous marriage [to Reine Stewart] came to live with me and my woman [Barbara Iannoli], who I then married and had a son [Ivan] with." - Peter Tork, Goldmine, 1982

“[Hallie] says that she has a better relationship with me than any of her friends have with their fathers. It’s a good thing for us, and I hope that the others’ aren’t catastrophic. Because otherwise it means (laughs), otherwise it’s small praise.” - Peter Tork, WDBB, February 2006

“Somewhere along the line, it finally sunk in. Not only that I couldn’t drink safely, which I knew, but that there was no pretense, no way to pretend to you or me that there was a chance of a pretense of drinking safely. And somehow, that got through to me and I was able to turn and make some requests… and go find the help that I needed. [...] So I got a community. And with a community, who had been through ahead of me what it was I needed to go through, I was able to give up my will. So it was no longer a matter of, ‘Man, what willpower you’ve got, you haven’t had a drink in 28 years, how do you do it, man? If I had your willpower…’ Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. It’s not having the willpower. It’s giving up the willpower. It’s surrendering, hopefully, to a dedicated community, for starters that — for me — a dedicated community that enabled me to begin the slow process of dealing with all the stuff that I drank about in the first place. Which is all the ways that I had, you know… because I felt like I was — I knew I was a runner-away, I’d run away all the time. And that made me a cheat. And since I knew I was a cheat, I cheated you. Vicious cycle. I cheat you, so… and then I run, and that makes me… and I know I’m a cheat, so it doesn’t matter whether I cheat, because that doesn’t change anything, so I cheat and I run, and I cheat and I run. Everything. Relationships. I was pretty good with cash register honesty, I learned that at my father’s knee. But almost every emotional honesty available to me was not available to me. And I — I’ll tell you the truth, folks, 28 years later, that emotional recovery, emotional honesty, the emotional — the honesty and depth is, right now, my biggest challenge. I ain’t got it yet. It is better than it ever was, and I’m beginning to — I feel like I’m rounding a corner. Of course, I’ve been feeling that for 28 years. But it feels like I’m getting better. And I know I am. The quality of my friendships is richer and deeper and stronger, my friends are more important in my life, and I’m more important in my friends’ lives. And I am able to hear when somebody says, ‘Is that exactly what you had in mind right there? Is that a perfectly honest…’ And I go, ‘Well, maybe not, I think I can probably do better than that,’ and work on it. In other words, because I have what I can rely upon, I am able to get better, and getting better enables me to stay sober, staying sober enables me to get better, and that cycle, which was a  vicious cycle before, is now a benign cycle, and it’s taking me to some really wonderful places.” - Peter Tork, Recovery Fest, 2009

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober prompt 19/day 19-Headcanons

i didn't get to my inhuman mechs headcanons in htis one like i initially planned, but i'd love to hear your inhuman mechs headcanons!! even just your regular mechanisms headcanons!! tell me all ur mechs thoughts,,,

@mechtober-2024

Lyfrassir Edda's Very Confusing New... Friends? - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw; mentioned torture, mentioned death, a bit of discussion about brian's backstory, i think that's it? but if there's something u need/want me to tag feel free!!

Lyfrassir was new to the crew of the starship Aurora, the Mechanisms. The space pirates had taken them in when their ship was breaking down and their food stores were running low. Lyfrassir was not aware that the crew offering them rescue was the same one that those damned three prisoners talked about all the time until after they’d been on the ship for a day and Raphaella had scrounged their ship for parts. So now, they were effectively stranded in deep space with the Mechanisms. The bird-like woman had claimed to not realize that it was their ship, said that she assumed Aurora just brought it on for scrap metal, but what’s done is done.

Naturally, they’d been doing their best to avoid the space pirates, but there wasn’t much to do on the ship Aurora besides get lost in her–strangely large quantities of hallways, or hide in the room that the crew had offered them. And after running out of things to do by themselves and running out of creative ways to steal alcohol without anyone noticing, well, there wasn’t much left for them to do but start interacting with the Mechanisms. They didn’t like it, but at least they weren’t bored anymore.

This was the first band practice they were sitting in on, though. It was only Brian, Tim, The Toy Soldier,  and Ashes at the moment, as the other four were causing havoc elsewhere on the ship. Lyfrassir really didn’t want to know what they were up to.

In the meantime, the four currently in front of Lyf were practicing a set that Brian had called ‘High Noon Over Camelot’. Out of everyone on the Aurora, Lyfrassir probably liked Brian the most so far. Other than Aurora herself, of course. She was generally very kind, when she wasn’t leading them down nonexistent hallways and getting them lost for hours on end.

But Brian was calm, collected, and generally very kind. Even if he was oftentimes brutally honest and unflinching in voicing his assessment of things–and even if he still on occasion shot the rest of the crew dead for seemingly no reason besides to get some peace and quiet. He was kind of confusing, in that manner, but to them he had been nothing but kind—outside of the moments of brutal honesty.

And, to top it all off, he had a lovely singing voice.

“Deep within the depths of the Station, You’ll find the key that brings your salvation

So take your seat, the one they warn you from Galahad

Be strong it’s visions may overwhelm, But they won’t steer you wrong,

Follow them through to your fate…”

The drumbot hummed, staring down at his banjo and readjusting the prongs, when the question popped into their mind and forced its way out of their throat.

“What did you actually tell them?” Lyfrassir asked, causing all four of the space pirates to turn to them. The blanched, suddenly self conscious and aware that that could’ve been a very wrong thing to say, but they continued forward. “The people on the space station, Fort Galfridian right? What did you actually tell them, of the… futures, you saw?”

There was a pause, and Ashes looked to Brian warily, something that Lyf was starting to assume meant concern on their face, while Tim continued to stare at them unblinkingly like they asked a foolish question. The Toy Soldier was swinging its head between Brian and Ashes, as if it was unsure what it was to do next.

“I told them what we put in the song,” Brian said, eventually. “Exactly what it was–Marius helped me write it down and figure out the exact tune for it.”

Lyfrassir blinked slowly at Brian. “…Really?”

Brian nodded, slow and creaking. “I believe I’ve always had dreams that show me things, the future or the past. Whenever I try to explain those dreams, to the people involved or too specifically, all that leaves my voice is a song that only confuses everyone around me. I don’t think it has anything to do with how Carmilla wired my brain and voice box, either. It’s always been like that, I believe. That was part of the reason I was called a witch, when I was launched into space, I think… I don’t remember too clearly. The responses were different, but my lines are as honest as our storytelling is probably capable of getting. We embellish a lot, after all, skim over things that couldn’t make a good song or would just drag the story out unnecessarily. A lot of the details get left out as we write.” Brian reached up and rubbed his neck tentatively, eyebrows furrowing as he continued. “It makes it really hard to take someone seriously if they’re just belting nonsensical songs at you, so people never really listen to the things I warn about. I tend to keep my mouth shut because of that, but sometimes I still feel the need to try. I… Galahad was one of the only ones who listened to me in a while, besides the Crew. And even then, you all aren’t the best listeners. You shrug me off and decide to do things anyway because it’ll be more ‘fun’, and then you end up dying over and over for half a century or worse–”

“It was one time,” Tim protested weakly. She had turned from staring Lyf down, to finding the neck of her guitar very interesting. “The torture wasn’t even that bad. Kinda boring, honestly.”

“But it still happened,” Brian said, turning to stare at Tim. “Because you didn’t listen to me. The only time recently where any of you listened to me about something I Saw was when we were passing Yggdrasil, and yet Marius and Ivy and Raph still went investigating anyway despite the fact that I was practically incoherent for days after that Dream.”

“They did still listen about leaving before the train came, though,” Tim pointed out, not looking at the drumbot.

“Barely– it’s– this isn’t the time to have this kind of discussion. We were supposed to be practicing High Noon.” Brian turned his attention back to his banjo, a clump of strands of copper hair fell in front of his eyes, and Brian quickly brushed them away.

Lyfrassir felt kind of awful. “I’m sorry,” they said. “I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking when I asked that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you,” Brian answered, “Marius says my music has a way of drawing things out from people. I think it’s all of us, but Marius just gets a look about him when I say that and shrugs. I tend to listen to him about that kind of thing, he’s a lot more in tune with stories than we give him credit for sometimes. Besides, I know you didn’t mean any real harm by it. You just didn’t know what you were asking.”

“…Back to work, then?” Ashes suggested, and Brian and Tim both nodded. The Toy Soldier clapped its wooden hands together.

“My! That Was Quite A Speech, Would You Desire Some Tea, Old Chap?” the wooden doll turned to Brian, who nodded.

“Actually, that’d– that’d be kind of nice TS. Thank you.”

“Of Course! I Shall Get Some For You As Well, Mx. Lyfrassir! I’ll Be But A Moment.” The Soldier patted Lyf on the shoulder, before darting off to make a quick spot of tea, while Lyf tried to swallow the lump in their throat.

“Do you want to move onto ‘Skin And Bone’ for a while, Ashes?” Tim asked.

“Sure, we could all use a distraction I think.” The arsonist shrugged, and the three Mechanisms returned to their practicing, The Toy Soldier joining in quickly after it had made its tea.

—--

Lyfrassir was sitting alongside Brian on the bridge, as the metal pilot navigated through an asteroid belt. They were fidgeting with the knitting hooks they’d ‘borrowed’ from Marius, as an octokitten swatted at the yarn in their lap with its weird paw-like tentacles. Lyf glanced at Brian as he tucked some of his hair behind his ear. He was incredibly focused, on the abyss outside, which made sense. He did have to worry about asteroids.

Aurora beeped and slammed a door.

“Just– give me a second, ‘Rora.” Brian’s voice was distant. “We’re almost through.” Aurora sighed, warm air blowing through the bridge from loud fans, ruffling Lyf’s braids and Brian’s hair, knocking his hat off of his head as well. Brian sighed, but didn’t move to pick up the fallen hat, leaving it laying sadly on the floor. Lyfrassir glanced between it and the pilot, before returning to their knitting. Eventually, they were out of the asteroid field, and the pilot relaxed, slumping in his seat. He still hadn’t picked up his hat.

Brian, after several minutes, reached up and tucked the hair that had fallen in his face again behind his ear.

“Do you– want me to braid your hair?” they asked, finally. The noise startled Brian out of his haze, the brass man jumping slightly before turning his head to face Lyf, staring blankly at them for a few moments.

“Ah– you– you don’t need to, Lyf? It’s… It’s fine. I’m– you don’t need to.”

“I want to, though– uh…” Lyf coughed into their hand and turned away, face burning as they decidedly did not look at him. “It’s always getting in your eyes… And it’s long enough that I could do some– ah, some fun hairstyles.” They were pretty sure their face was an even darker shade of purple, they were blushing so hard. “I won’t if you don’t want to.”

Brian didn’t respond for a moment, and Lyfrassir assumed that was that. And then, “Okay.”

Lyfrassir whipped their head around so fast they might’ve given themself whiplash. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Brian’s face was a bright red. “You can braid my hair.”

Lyf swallowed thickly, and nodded. “Okay.”

Brian moved from his pilot’s seat, to the ground in front of Lyfrassir. They set their knitting to the side and began by running their hands through his copper hair, making their way through the knots slowly. “You uh, won’t have to worry about hair ties either,” Brian said, taking some of his hair and wrapping it around his fingers. He pulled the coil up and it continued standing up. “My hair can just– stay as it’s styled, if enough of it’s clumped together. Usually, anyway. The Crew… They– the Crew likes to mess with this and shit. If I take a nap, sometimes I wake up with wild hairstyles. One time, TS made it into a swan and its baby swans. It was kind of cute, honestly.”

Lyfrassir chuckled at the image of Brian walking around with swan-shaped hair. “The Toy Soldier is… Something, certainly.”

“Yeah.” Brian sighed, relaxing into Lyf’s touch as they started splitting his hair into several strands. “We love it, though. It wouldn’t be the Toy Soldier if it wasn’t a little off. We all are, after all. Probably something to do with how we became the Mechs.”

“Oh?” Lyf wasn’t paying too much attention to what Brian was saying, focusing on braiding his hair.

“Yeah– you uh, you see it most with Marius, I think. And, well, me, but Marius is the one you see it most in who’s still made mostly out of flesh. He’s… 87% flesh, whereas I’m like… 10% flesh, because of my heart.”

“Is that why von Raum is so… annoying? Is his arm why he can just– summon violins from nowhere?”

“Oh, no, according to him that was something he could do even before he was Marius. But, well, Marius lies a lot, so maybe it is his mechanism.”

“So the mystery continues…”

“Raph’s been trying to figure it out for ages and has literally no idea. So take that as you will.”

“Hm…” Lyf furrowed their eyebrows, and grabbed some of Brian’s hair to start including it in the intricate braid they were slowly forming, when they saw something… odd, on the back of Brian’s neck. Lyfrassir frowned, and lightly touched the area around the– what looked like a switch, on the back of the pilot’s neck.

Brian tensed, freezing at the soft touch of Lyf’s fingers. “Ah- don’t touch it, please? I like the mode I’m on right now. I’ll– if I need to switch it I’ll ask.”

Lyf nodded, pulling their hand away. “Right, yes sorry…”

A few moments passed in silence, as Lyfrassir continued to work. “You can ask, you know. I don’t mind explaining.”

Lyf bit their lip, but nodded, despite the fact that they knew Brian couldn’t see them. “Okay… What– what is it?” they asked.

“It’s– have you heard any of the others say ‘MJE’ or ‘EJM’ around me?” They answered with a noncommittal hum, and Brian continued. “They’re referencing that switch. Ends Justify Means or Means Justify Ends. Fun or Boring, according to the Crew. When Dr. Carmilla made me, she implanted that switch in the back of my neck. It’s, most simply, a morality switch. It doesn’t exactly change how I view the world, but it does change how I interact with it. Please don’t ah, please don’t flip it if I don’t ask? Raph’s been working on making it less so, but whenever it’s flipped it’s… It’s not a pleasant experience for me, personally.”

Lyfrassir nodded again. “I won’t, promise. Although that is… An odd thing to give someone.”

“Don’t think too hard about it, Lyf. It’d only give you a headache.”

Lyf hummed in response. “Is– is that why your hair is so long? To hide it?” They hadn’t seen it until now, and besides a few jokes or comments here and there from the other Mechanisms, hadn’t heard anything about it. If it was truly as unpleasant as he said, it would make sense if Brian just didn’t want to talk or think about it.

Brian, however, laughed at that. Loud and bright, it did… odd things to Lyf’s heart. “No, no, uh. I just like the long hair. It’s warm, and it gives the others a fidget toy. Besides, I uh, I feel pretty? With long hair. While I was strung up in Camelot, it was actually kind of ridiculous how long it had gotten. Sometimes I cut it, but I normally never let it get shorter than just above my shoulders.”

“Oh,” Lyfrassir responded. “Huh. Well… Your hair is very pretty, and very braidable. Even then, though, we’re probably going to be here a while. You have a lot of hair.”

“That’s okay,” Brian said. “I like the company. Aurora isn’t as much of a conversationalist as she used to be.” At that moment, she decided to slam her doors and blow cold air into the room. Brian laughed again. “I’m just being honest, ‘Rora! It’s wrong to lie!” Aurora huffed and blew a stream of cold air at Brian, which just caused him to laugh again. Lyf smiled a bit.

“I don’t know, she seems plenty conversational to me,” they said. Aurora creaked in appreciation, blowing warm air at Lyfrassir’s face.

“Would you like some songs while you work, Lyf?” Brian asked. “I keep a banjo in here, just for when I’m bored.”

“I– sure, I suppose. Play away, Brian.”

The drumbot nodded, and reached over to where a banjo was skillfully hidden under his pilot’s chair. He settled back in, and began to play.

—--

“Aurora?” Lyf sighed, after turning into the same nondescript hallway for the fifth time. They couldn’t keep doing this, they had just wanted to get a snack. “Where am I?”

A screen appeared on one of the walls, as Aurora creaked and the fans whirred in a way that Lyf was starting to understand was usually laughter. They walked closer to the screen anyway. ‘You are in one of my hallways :]’ the screen read. Lyfrassir sighed.

“Yes, I’m aware that this is one of your hallways. Where am I in relation to the kitchen?”

A map appeared, showing that the kitchen was three floors above them. They furrowed their eyebrows, one set of eyes darting around while the other continued to stare at the map. They could’ve sworn that the kitchen was below where the O’Neil Rings connected to the main ship, not above. And furthermore, Lyfrassir couldn’t see any easy ways to get upstairs on the map. There were only pathways that led to other places on this floor, or down into the bowels of the ship.

“Aurora?”

‘Yes? :]’ flashed on the screen, above the map.

“How am I supposed to get to the kitchen? How do you have so many floors and passageways in the first place?”

‘I like to feel tall.’

Just as she said it, the map changed again and a new doorway appeared not far from where Lyf was currently standing. “You’re a rocketship,” they pointed out, “you’re already tall.” However, as far as they knew, there was no way that she should’ve had the space for all of the rooms and all of the hallways that existed inside of her. The O’Neil Rings themselves were confusing–it seemed like they appeared and disappeared out of existence. Lyf still wasn’t sure how exactly they were even connected to the ship, how they could walk from their room into a hallway that led into the main body of Aurora without any main connection points for the rings, at least none that Lyf had seen.

‘You should head to the kitchen before I decide to remove the stairs again, Navigator,’ Aurora wrote out. ‘Otherwise you might miss your chance. :]’

They sighed, and started walking towards the door that had appeared. They were never going to understand this starship.

—--

“Mx. Lyfrassir!” The Toy Soldier called. Lyf… didn’t know where exactly it came from. But it might have simply appeared–they were getting used to it doing that.

“Ah, hello, Soldier…” Lyfrassir turned to face the wooden thing.

“I Have Something I Wish To Present You With!” It exclaimed, smiling brightly and, somehow, blankly at the same time. They supposed that was to do with the fact that it was made of wood, and had a limited expression range due to that.

“Oh?” They responded. “What is it?”

The Toy Soldier clapped excitedly, grabbed their hand, and pulled them along to its room–which only further confused the former-Inspector. When the pair arrived at the Toy’s room, there was a tea party set up. This was not unusual, Lyf had learned pretty quickly that when it wasn’t whittling or patrolling the hallways or engaging in a game of Murder Hide and Seek or Murder Tag with the others, it was either practicing the mandolin or the glockenspiel, or more likely it was hosting a tea party with whoever it decided was its victim of the day.

“What’s this for, Toy?” Lyf asked, raising an eyebrow, their two sets of eyes split between focusing on the tea party and The Toy Soldier.

The doll walked into its room and gestured to the beautifully decorated–probably porcelain?–tea pot at the center of the party. “I Have A Gift For You!”

Lyfrassir blinked slowly at the wooden figure. “…What?”

“The Tea Set! It Is A Gift For You, I Have Sets For Every Member Of The Crew, And You’re Crew Now! Do You Like It?”

“I, uh…” Lyf walked closer, and examined the tea pot. The base color was a shiny black, and it was decorated with bubbles of rainbow and silvers and golds that made the pot look like it was painted with an oil spill. And on top of that, brilliantly colorful and shiny beetles encircled the width of the pot’s belly.

“Jewel Beetles,” The Toy Soldier said, pointing at the bugs. “They’re From Earth And Terra, But I Believe There Were Similar Bugs Found On Alfheim, And You Said One Of Your Mothers Was From Alfheim! I Thought It Was A Nice Touch, And The Colors Match That Which Paint You And Yggdrasil’s Remains. They’re Also On The Cups!”

The cups were equally extravagant, with the same base oil-spill design, with three beetles decorating the circumference of the cup. The lip was covered in silver-gilt, and the handles were carefully painted with Old Norse Runes. The plates that the cups were sat on included the same runes, and the same oil-spill design and silver-gilt lips.

“I… Toy- I… Thank you, Toy Soldier. You didn’t need to.”

“Whatever Do You Mean, Old Bean?” The Toy Soldier tilted its head, staring at them. “You’re Crew Now, Old Bean! And Everyone In The Crew Has Their Own Tea Set. And That Includes You, Now.”

“I’m not immortal like you all,” Lyf reminded the wooden thing.

“That Doesn’t Matter! You’re Crew Whether You Like It Or Not, And I’d Rather Say We Should Get On With Our Tea Party Before The Tea Gets Too Cold!”

The Soldier Sat down at the slightly too short table, beginning to pour two cups of tea. Lyf nodded, and followed its lead. “Thank you, TS.”

“Of Course, Old Bean!”

[classicmarvelera]

Unraveling the Legacy: Steve Englehart's Impactful Journey at Marvel Comics

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Before his ascent to prominence at Marvel, Englehart honed his craft through various ventures in the comic book industry. His journey towards the House of Ideas began with a passion for storytelling and a keen eye for character dynamics. Upon joining Marvel Comics, Englehart quickly distinguished himself with his inventive approach to superhero narratives, earning him a place among the company's top writers

Captain America: Redefining a Patriotic Icon

Englehart's tenure at Marvel is perhaps best remembered for his transformative run on "Captain America." Englehart embarked on a daring exploration of patriotism, identity, and the moral complexities of heroism during his time on the title. Through Captain America's lens, Englehart crafted compelling narratives that resonated with readers on a profound level

One of Englehart's most acclaimed story arcs, "The Secret Empire Saga," remains a seminal moment in Captain America's history. Englehart delved into the heart of America's political landscape in this epic tale, confronting societal issues with unflinching honesty. The storyline culminated in a shocking revelation that shook the foundations of the Marvel Universe, leaving a lasting impact on Captain America's legacy

Exploring Other Marvel Characters

While Englehart's tenure on "Captain America" garnered widespread acclaim, his creative influence extended far beyond the Star-Spangled Avenger. Englehart's work on the relationship between the Scarlet Witch and the Vision, two of Marvel's most enigmatic characters, stands as a testament to his ability to infuse depth and complexity into his narratives. In "The Vision and the Scarlet Witch" miniseries, Englehart explored the intricacies of their unconventional romance, navigating themes of love, identity, and acceptance in a superhero context

Additionally, Englehart's contributions to other Marvel titles showcased his versatility as a storyteller. From the cosmic adventures of The Avengers to the mystical realms of Doctor Strange to the brutal Avengers/Defenders War, Englehart's narratives spanned the breadth of the Marvel Universe, enriching the tapestry of interconnected stories

Creative Collaborations and Artistic Vision

A hallmark of Englehart's work is his collaborative spirit and his ability to synergize with artists to bring his vision to life. Throughout his tenure at Marvel, Englehart forged lasting partnerships with some of the industry's most talented illustrators, resulting in visually stunning and narratively rich comics. From the dynamic pencils of Sal Buscema to the ethereal landscapes of Frank Brunner, Englehart's collaborators imbued his stories with a visual dynamism that elevated his narratives to new heights

Critical Reception and Legacy

Englehart's contributions to Marvel Comics have not gone unnoticed, with fans and critics alike lauding his innovative storytelling and memorable characterizations. His work continues to resonate with readers, standing as a testament to the enduring power of comics as a medium for storytelling

In the annals of comic book history, Steve Englehart's legacy shines brightly as a beacon of creativity and imagination. His groundbreaking contributions to the Marvel Universe have left an indelible mark on the fabric of superhero storytelling, inspiring generations of creators to push the boundaries of the medium. As we continue to celebrate his achievements, we are reminded of the transformative power of storytelling to inspire, to provoke, and to unite us in our shared love of comics

Conclusion

Steve Engelhart is a titan in the comic book world, yet his contributions often reside in the shadow of more mainstream characters. His legacy is woven into the fabric of Marvel, shaping the narratives of both obscure and iconic figures alike, from the Avengers to the enigmatic Scarlet Witch and Vision

In the annals of Marvel history, Engelhart stands as a trailblazer, setting the stage for future writers who would helm the sagas of Captain America and the Avengers. Mark Grunwald's tenure bears striking resemblance to Engelhart's, a testament to the enduring themes of politics and cosmic exploration inherent in these titles

Engelhart's storytelling prowess shines particularly bright in Captain America, where political intrigue and global conspiracies intersect, birthing characters like Shang Chi. While rooted in martial arts, Shang Chi emerges as a pivotal figure in Marvel's tapestry, navigating the murky waters of SHIELD and HYDRA with aplomb

Amidst the tumult of the 1970s comic scene, Engelhart rose as a beacon of innovation, his work becoming synonymous with the decade itself. Remarkably, he achieved this without the crutch of marquee titles like Spider-Man or the Fantastic Four, solidifying his place as an unsung hero of the Marvel Bronze Age

Steve Englehart's tenure at Marvel Comics is a testament to storytelling's transformative power. Through his imaginative narratives and compelling characterizations, Englehart reshaped the Marvel Universe, leaving an indelible mark on the landscape of superhero comics. As we reflect on his legacy, we are reminded of the enduring impact of his creative vision and the timeless allure of his storytelling prowess

References

Captain America: The Secret Empire Saga

The Vision and the Scarlet Witch

The Avengers: The Celestial Madonna Saga

Doctor Strange: A Separate Reality

[rebelrebelwrites]

Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel’s Weekly Fic Recs

As always, this week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

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The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: Of Desire and Despair by WildHarlow

What you need to know going in:

Mmm, another classic post-S1 fic where Sauron visits Galadriel in her dreams in an attempt to tempt her to reconsider his offer... with unflinching desperation, desire, and a semblance of honesty that scorches. Scintillating and spine-tingling in its gut-clenching conclusion, this is a quick, sinful read that you’ll want to return to over and over again.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Twitter and AO3.

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The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: Though the Gods and the Years Relent, Shall Be by @demonscantgothere

What you need to know going in:

Hnnnnggg, this fic. 😍 Another beautiful contribution to this fandom from @demonscantgothere, this sweet, steamy fic also offers a really unique premise: after the end of all things, Eru remakes the world, and in that world in Valinor, a young Galadriel meets a Maia named Mairon. In this world, Mairon does not become corrupted, and he and Galadriel have the chance to fall for each other without the obstacles they would’ve had otherwise. Don’t get me wrong, I love the tragedy of this ship, but the hope and the pure softness of this story is breathtaking and such a balm for the soul. ❤️

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: Queen Takes King by @coraleethroughthelookingglass

What you need to know going in:

10 years after she says yes to Sauron’s proposal, Galadriel reflects on the decision—and the dominance she wields over her Dark Lord—in the world where shadows lie where they both reign as equals. I love me a Dark Galadriel fic, and this one doesn’t disappoint! This two-shot delivers delicious smut and a delightfully devoted Dark Lord and his Queen. 🔥

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): The Trials of Mairon by @jackpotgirl

What you need to know going in:

This is another fic I got into in the earlier days of the fandom, and I need to catch up on the latest update, but what a binge-read! If you’re somehow unfamiliar, this story sees Galadriel after the events of LOTR in Valinor, and at the bid of the Valar, she must put Sauron through three trials to prove that he’s worthy of redemption. After two failed attempts, they’re both thrust back to the events of S1 of RoP…. But this time, Galadriel knows who Halbrand is. The two push and pull at one another on a tremulous path of redemption, but the trials aren’t limited to Mairon. 👀 Binge-worthy, indeed!

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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The Can't Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: but i thought you might by @bad-surprise

What you need to know going in:

This. Fic! (Listen I realize I start all of these with an exclamation but I don’t know what to tell you, my feelings are my feelings and you guys are the ones doing this to me so… 😂) I binged the heck out of this story this week and got caught up this morning, and I knew immediately I’d be adding it to this week’s list. In this modern AU, Galadriel and Halbrand have a tumultuous, on-and-off-again romance throughout high school/college and as adults, marked by crippling anxiety, religious trauma, and a struggle to communicate… but a fierce (and often unspoken), love for each other that leads to them continuing to fight for happiness. It’s beautiful, dark, and achingly good.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your personal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

[daxalerr]

just a little opinion on the avatar that I want to systematize

I hate quaritch. he committed war crimes, he destroyed the planet and its inhabitants, he kidnapped children, and he was a total asshole most of his life. if i had the chance, i would strangle him with my hands and feed his body to the tanators.

but I also love quaritch. I love him for his loyalty and unflinching courage, I love him for being able to look death in the eye, I love him for his honesty and straightforwardness, for what he is willing to do for humanity. remember the scene when he ran after jake on the helicopter station and it was literally a matter of seconds? even then he didn't forget his responsibility and ordered the masks on first, and only then opened the door. he thinks of others first. i love how gentle he was with jake and how completely transformed he was when jake betrayed him.

he is a truly unique character and i can't completely hate him. i watched the first part of avatar just two weeks ago (i know, i have late starter) and i already can't imagine living without miles all these years. i hate him and love him. i would strangle him and drag him out of the fire. and i am not ashamed to say that i like him because characters like that are really interesting. they don't come up with those anymore.

i like that in the first part of avatar there are no completely positive and completely negative characters (not all ). in the good you find the bad and in the bad you see the good. don't get hung up on one, let yourself see. let yourself see inside them.

I hope to keep watching quaritch change.

to put it directly, the biggest evil in avatar is parker (although he is also a funny gremlin), and then the general. the villains are not those who are ruled, but those who are ruled.

p.s. by the way, I want to warn you (in case you want to argue) that my opinion is the same whatever you talk.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Does your OC ever tell their friends "white lies" to spare their feelings? Perhaps about their appearance or personality? If so, what was a recent example of this? If not, then how do their friends find this unflinching honesty?

Mimble doesn't like to hurt anyone's feelings, unless he actively despises them, in which case he can be positively snarky.

So he is generally honest, but also extremely tactful and careful with his choice of words. For example, if he's uncertain about someone's outfit, he's more likely to suggest that it's possibly failing to show off their figure to their best advantage, or that a different colour would perhaps better suit their complexion. Consequently he is quite popular as a companion on shopping trips around the bazaars of U'ldah or the markets of Kugane.

He does enjoy being playful and teasing his friends, and will sometimes use humour to point out an issue, but he is rarely blunt or nasty. Comedy bickering, however, is practically inevitable.

[philhoffman]

The year is off to a brutal start with this week’s Monday Philm: Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (2007), dir. Sidney Lumet

This is one of my favorite films, and though it’s impossible to point to one single performance as “the best,” it’s among PSH’s strongest work in his entire career. He is relentless and unflinching.

If you’ve seen BTDKYD, you know it’s difficult to watch. As Ethan Hawke said, “Phil dropped a lot of secrets in this film, that are very present and very painful.” On set, he spoke openly and honestly about his sobriety and struggles with addiction, an integral part of his life and this character’s development. There’s also Andy’s relationship with his father, his sense of abandonment—a lot of very personal issues and experiences that Phil brought to bear on this performance. The result is honest, raw, gutting.

I’m a writer but it’s hard for me to write about this movie. As is often the case, looking directly at this performance can feel like staring at the sun. Without getting toooo personal here, last year I experienced another drug-related loss, an overdose death, and for a day or two it was hard to look right at Phil, photos of him, to hear his voice—it was too intense, I was too upset, too angry, too embarrassed. Watching this film for the first time since then reminded me of that feeling. I picked these shots from the film before I even started writing but maybe that’s why I chose them. His honesty and vulnerability in delivering such a performance hurts, and it means the world.

In the same talk I quoted above, Ethan Hawke spoke about PSH’s commitment to truth in art: “He said, ‘As a person, I might be a flawed person, but as an actor I will tell the truth all the time.’” He was more open and direct and personal, able to say things he never would’ve or could’ve said in real life. Phil’s relentless pursuit of truth has always been his standout quality to me, even before I really had an idea of what that meant. But he’s taught me so I’ve learned—it’s brave, it’s scary, it’s exposing and sensitive, it’s so generous. The level of honesty he put into his work has the power to change lives (even if it’s just mine, thought I suspect it’s more). Exactly one month from today will be nine years since his death and I just wish I could thank him—for everything, for being himself, for being more than enough. I really hope he knows the difference he’s made. 

“I’ve seen heaven, Gina. It’s a nice place to stay.”

This was an awfully rough one SO I will leave y’all with one of my favorite batshit behind-the-scenes stories: In the final scene, when Charles holds the pillow over Andy’s face, Phil genuinely could not breathe—and when he started panicking a bit, Albert Finney thought he was still acting! Absolute chaos! Imagine the TMZ headline if that had really gone south!

[crossdressingdeath]

Alaris Lavellan, 2, 7, 11, 12, 19, 36? If you don't mind double-askers?

Absolutely zero issues with double-askers, I like talking about my boys. Questions from this ask game, feel free to send more!

2. What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like? Alaris adored his mother (and frankly still does). A real mama's boy. The Templars murdering her was absolutely the catalyst for his pure, unflinching loathing for them, and the main reason he still desperately wants to take his place as Keeper one day is because he wants to be like her.

7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares? Fire and Templars for most of his life. After the Inquisition started up puppet strings also became a prominent feature. Lots of him being puppeted by unseen hands and forced to do terrible things to people he loves. Of course being a mage a lot of this is probably just demons and spirits being dicks to him, but that's fine.

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been? Waking up under Haven in chains and in a lot of pain (yay, Anchor bullshit), surrounded by Chantry higher-ups and accused of killing the Divine and blowing up the Temple of Sacred Ashes, with no memory of anything after entering the Conclave with the intention of killing the Divine if she sided with the Templars. Being caught by the Chantry has been Alaris's worst fear since he was old enough to understand what they'd do to a Dalish mage (no good possibilities there!), and being accused of something he was fully prepared to do with no memory of what happened is absolutely... a lot. He was trapped, surrounded by the Chantry, with no clue what brought him to this point (and so had no idea what lie to tell to get out of it), and he's never going to be able to forget that.

12. In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been? ...Hm. Honestly "calm" is not a word I generally associate with Alaris, this boy is just always stressed. I think probably the night after defeating Corypheus, in that brief gap between dealing with the Breach and learning that the Inquisition has no intention of letting him go. He had a day, maybe two, where he got to just be with his partners and look ahead to a brighter future, and that was a very calming experience. ...The victory sex probably helped.

19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before? He's the fakest person alive. Alaris has this thing where he's all but incapable of being honest with people, especially people he cares about, and people eventually catch on to him lying to them just all the time. And turns out people don't like it when their loved one is literally never honest with them? Even if it's not malicious? Turns out a fundamental lack of trust in your partner/sibling/friend/whatever is detrimental to the relationship even if it's a result of All The Trauma? Who knew. It's never fully destroyed a relationship for him, but it has put a lot of tension on all his relationships. Fortunately he tends to go for very stubborn people regardless of what sort of relationship he's in with them, so usually it eventually stabilizes and he can make some fumbling steps towards honesty or they die before it becomes an issue. He's just gotta be gently bullied into Telling People How He Really Feels first.

36. How does your character behave around people they dislike? Oh, Alaris is painfully sweet to people he doesn't like. It gets downright saccharine. He's just the sweetest, nicest, most charming young man you can imagine. Also extremely tense, but that's hard to tell if you don't know to look for it. Fun fact, the inner circle takes a while to realize that this is Alarming Behaviour because it's the way he acts around them at first :).

[talesofpassingtime]

On the death of Martin Amis

Martin Amis was a towering figure in British literature, and his influence on me as a writer was profound. His work was characterized by its intelligence, wit, and unflinching honesty, and it taught me the importance of using language to explore the darkest corners of the human psyche. I will always be grateful for the lessons he taught me, and I am deeply saddened by his passing.

I first encountered Amis's work when I was young, and I was immediately drawn to his unique voice. His novels were unlike anything else I had ever read, and they opened up a whole new world of literature to me. I was particularly drawn to his ability to combine humor with darkness, and his characters were always complex and morally ambiguous.

As I grew older, I continued to be inspired by Amis's work. His novels helped me to understand the world around me in a new way, and they taught me the importance of writing with honesty and integrity. I will never forget the impact that his work has had on my life, and I am grateful to have had the opportunity to read it.

I am deeply saddened by Amis's passing, and I know that I am not alone in my grief. He was a true literary giant, and his work will continue to be read and admired for generations to come.

[thislovintime]

(Photo 3 by Henry Diltz/Corbis/Getty Images).

Content warning: mentions of alcoholism/addiction.

“‘I don't mean to paint such a bleak picture of [the 1960s],’ Tork said. ‘I still felt I was in the vanguard, along with a bunch of other people. I was pretty happy. I had a circle of friends, and it was a lot of fun. God knows, I went through a lot of scenes and found out what I needed to find out, which is, for instance, that orgies are nice, but they're only temporary and they're not fulfilling.’ Tork's infamous orgies were held at the Hollywood house he bought in 1968, previously the property of comedian Wally Cox. At the height of his fame, Tork could have paid for it in cash, but was advised against it. So he took out a huge loan and spent his money redecorating. In the master bedroom Tork's bed was eight feet by eight feet with a foam mattress six inches thick. He had a four-place bathtub put into the bathroom, along with a sauna. He had Mexican tiles laid. He carved his initials into the shower stall. There was red plush carpeting throughout the house, a wet bar in the foyer, six-by-nine-foot picture window in the living room overlooking the San Fernando Valley. The film room was a splendiferous workshop of sandblasted natural wood that housed Tork's resident filmmaker manqué. The screen covered the entire wall, offering a ten-by-twelve-foot platform for the flower of psychedelia's exploding visuals – viewed by exploding heads of all chemical persuasions, days on end. Just down the hall and across a bridge was another wing of the house. Downstairs was a cabana, leading to a fifty-foot pool. There were no houses behind his, so many people preferred to dive into the pool nude – straight out of his bathroom window. ‘I'd rather have nude swimming,’ reflected Tork; ‘it's much easier. There's a certain charge to bodies if they're covered up, and if you remove that, it takes a lot of that extra energy out of things.’ Originally, Tork brought a girl friend to live with him at the house. Then his filmmaker friend moved in. He was followed by a young woman and her son. Later a friend of his girl friend stayed there. When Tork quit the Monkees toward the end of 1968, his new group, Peter Tork and/or Release, moved in. Often, wandering downstairs of an early afternoon. Tork would come upon two or three strange bodies asleep in the walk-in fireplace. But that was all right. At the same time, it wasn't all right. ‘If you're fixed on the notion that an orgy is going to fulfill you, and one doesn't do it, you're going to try a hundred. If orgies don't do it, maybe drugs will. Like the fixated person I was then, I went from one thing to another. I had to try everything: flower power, dope, orgies, fast cars.’ His sternest nemesis was alcohol. ‘In the beginning drinking was a lot of fun,’ said Tork. ‘I have some memories of things that I did drunk that I never would have done sober, that I guess I always sort of wanted to do. But drinking isn't selective. It doesn't let you do exactly what you want to do and keep you from doing the things you don't want to do. Furthermore, at a certain point, and I think with certain personality types, it's addictive. You find you cannot drink moderately any longer. It finally reached a point with me where it was obvious that I was going to die if I kept up with it. I was never hospitalized, but I could see the path. I realized I was out of control.’”- When The Music Mattered (1984)

“During his comeback Tork discovered ‘too much chemistry' (drugs, not the high school course) was beginning to blur the faculties and waste the resources, financially, physically, spiritually, morally and emotionally. ‘Then a miracle happened. I found, “The Difference.” ‘I can’t name “The Difference” for a dozen reasons,’ Tork added, ‘one of which is that no name sounds the same to everybody. If I said, “God,” a lot of people — a previous self of mine included — would say, “Oh, spare me your sanctimonious bull.” If I say, “the cosmic patterning,” then it would be “Oh, spare me your hippie-dippy bull.”’ Okay. Call it ‘The Difference’ and be done with it. What difference did it make? ‘I was crazy,‘ Tork said. ‘I was behaving crazily. It wasn’t like I was a moral leper. I was just addictive and feeding my habit. Then one day I looked at the chemicals in my hand — in that case a bottle of beer — and I saw that I was not in charge. When I finally realized that, that’s when I began to recover. Since then I have been able to avoid the use and abuse of all chemicals, primarily and including alcohol.’” - The Cincinnati Enquirer, October 20, 1983

“I was very fortunate because I found myself to be an alcoholic and there is a community that is out to help and who will love you just because you’re an alcoholic who wants to get better. That was the beginning of my retrieval as a human being. Otherwise I’d be a bubbling pile of protoplasm in the gutter someplace.” - Peter Tork, Toxic Fame (1996)

“‘I have to say, I did anticipate it [what the interviewer called ‘Beatle-esque global mania’],’ shrugs Tork. ‘But what I never thought I’d see was us still being around 45 years later. ‘I didn’t even think I’d live to see 45.’” - Wales Online, May 13, 2011

“I didn’t know I’d ever be 50 years old.” - Peter Tork, ITN, September 2, 2015

“‘[Alcohol] that’s the one that nabbed me,’ Tork said. ‘Booze was my friend. The worries of the world sloughed off.’ 
One day Tork decided to start keeping a record of his drinking and soon found himself drinking in excess of 12 beers a day. 
 ‘But I wasn’t an alcoholic. Because when I was in jail, I couldn’t drink it and I was alright. When I was in the hospital, I couldn’t have it, and it didn’t bother me,’ Tork said. 
 The realization came one day while in New York when he found himself with a beer in his hand and suddenly realizing he had a problem. He talked to his wife and admitted to her that he had a problem and needed help. Tork praised the Drug Court system and other drug-recovery organizations. 
‘I could have died in agony or distress,’ Tork said. ‘But this, this is humbling. This stuff — Drug Court — this moment, standing in front of you — this is the other side.’” - visaliatimesdelta.com, October 29, 2010 

“He's been sober for almost 30 years, and recently took time to address graduates of a drug court in California as part of his theory that recovery from any addiction is incomplete without service to others. 
‘I have been given a huge treasure: to not have to drink, which was my experience,’ he says. ‘It was obliged, it was mandatory. To be relieved of that imperative is an enormous gift, a jewel beyond price. There is no amount of money to make me give it up. What would I do with the money? ... And to keep this gift is to deny it to others.’” - Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, November 4, 2010

[themurtiwalaa]

Uncovering the Meaning of Keeping a Ram Darbar Idol in Hinduism

In the unpredictable embroidery of Hinduism, the Ram Darbar holds a respected spot. A quintessential portrayal of heavenly congruity, it depicts Ruler Ram, his partner Sita, his dedicated lover Hanuman, and his devoted sibling Lakshman. This consecrated outfit represents a fanciful story as well as encapsulates significant otherworldly rules that resound with enthusiasts across ages. The act of keeping a Ram Darbar idol in homes, sanctuaries, and consecrated spaces conveys huge profound, social, and philosophical ramifications, rising above simple strict worship.

Exemplification of Dharma

At its center, the Ram Darbar addresses the encapsulation of dharma, nobility, and uprightness. Master Ram, respected as the seventh symbol of the Hindu god Vishnu, is the embodiment of moral honesty and optimal sovereignty. His life, as chronicled in the legendary Ramayana, fills in as a directing light for disciples, showing the victory of good over evil, obligation over want, and penance over personal responsibility.

The presence of Master Ram, Sita, Hanuman, and Lakshman in the Ram Darbar idol fills in as a consistent sign of the standards they embody. Master Ram's unflinching adherence to his dharma, Sita's undaunted dedication and flexibility, Hanuman's endless commitment and strength, and Lakshman's resolute faithfulness highlight the significance of maintaining honorableness in one's life.

Solidarity in Variety

The Ram Darbar additionally exemplifies the soul of solidarity in variety. Master Ram, a manifestation of the heavenly, generous acknowledges Hanuman, a Vanara (monkey) lover, and structures a tough bond with Lakshman, his sibling and friend. The consideration of different characters in the Ram Darbar highlights the Hindu ethos of acknowledgment and amicability in the midst of variety.

In a world frequently defaced by divisions in view of station, ideology, and ethnicity, the Ram Darbar fills in as a powerful image of inclusivity and solidarity. It helps enthusiasts to remember the comprehensiveness of heavenly love and the inborn interconnectedness, everything being equal.

Reflection Practice

Keeping a Ram Darbar idol isn't only a ceremonial demonstration yet a significant reflection practice. Fans frequently enhance the idol with blossoms, incense, and contributions, participating in day to day supplications and customs. Through these demonstrations of commitment, experts try to develop a more profound association with the heavenly and soak up the ethics exemplified by Master Ram and his heavenly partner.

The presence of a Ram Darbar idol in homes or sanctuaries makes a hallowed space where fans can look for comfort, direction, and motivation. It fills in as a point of convergence for otherworldly consideration and fellowship with the heavenly, encouraging a feeling of inward harmony and serenity.

Social Legacy

Past its strict importance, the Ram Darbar is a necessary piece of India's rich social legacy. The epic of Ramayana, whereupon the Ram Darbar is based, has pervaded each part of Indian culture, impacting workmanship, writing, music, and dance for centuries. The portrayal of Master Ram's life and lessons in different works of art, including compositions, models, and exhibitions, has served to protect and propagate this ageless story for people in the future.

The Ram Darbar, with its immortal message of dharma, solidarity, and dedication, keeps on motivating large number of lovers around the world. As an image of heavenly elegance and everlasting qualities, it rises above the limits of reality, offering comfort and motivation to all who look for shelter in its heavenly hug. Keeping a Ram Darbar idol isn't simply a strict practice however a significant otherworldly excursion, directing fans towards the way of uprightness, love, and illumination.

[aftaabmagazine]

Reflections on Qahar Asi's introduction to his collection of poems "From the Island of Blood: Elegies for Kabul" 

Reflections on Qahar Asi's قهار عاصی introduction to his collection of poems "From the Island of Blood: Elegies for Kabul" 

از جزیره خون:

 مرثیه های برای کابل

By Farhad Azad 

AftaabMag.com | Spring 2024 In his final collection, "From the Island of Blood: Elegies for Kabul,"  از جزیره خون: مرثیه های برای کابل self-published in Kabul in January 1993, Qahar Asi قهار عاصی bears witness to the city's foremost wave of Islamist-inflicted devastation. The cover, depicting a ruined city scene, is a chilling prelude to the poems within. Asi's introduction is a bold declaration of intent: the book is dedicated to those who endured the suffering, not those who profited from it.

He acknowledges the existence of noble souls amongst the Mujahideen who laid down their arms, but their numbers were few. What's baffling is the disconnect between his earlier panegyrics for these Islamist factions in the 1980s and his failure to grasp their true nature as foreign-backed militants despite all the warnings. 

In a video recitation of his poem "Everyone," filmed amidst autumnal trees, Asi laments the departure of friends and compatriots from their "ruined realm." He understands their flight, for the land of light and mysticism lies in ruins, shrouded in tears and misery.

Asi concludes his introduction by refusing to dedicate the book to those in the West who would become "spies for intelligence agencies." This suggests a deep suspicion of Western powers, whose proxies he witnesses as instrumental in Kabul's destruction.

The collection is raw and unvarnished, eschewing artifice for a stark honesty that justifies his description, "half-poems and half-prose." For me, two poems, "The Book of the Pen" and "The Stranger," are particularly resonant examples of Asi's unflinching stare.

In "The Book of the Pen" قلمنامه, Asi implores his companion, the pen, to join him in chronicling these painful times. 

بیاای قلم سوگواری کنیم

Come pen, let us grieve together

بیاتابهم سازگاری کنیم

Come, let us collaborate

بیاای قلم راز داری کنیم

Pen, let us share our secrets 

زمانه خراب است یاری کنیم

These are solemn times, let us be friends

بیا کز شرف پاسداری کنیم

Come, let us protect our honor

غم خود سراییم و زاری کنیم

Let us mourn and lament 

دل من غمین و دل تو غمین

My soul is sad, and your soul is sad

بر آریم ازین دو نوای حزین

Let us raise a mournful melody from these two 

زبد کیش و بد رای حکایت کنیم

Let's speak of the evil creed and ill intentions 

زاهریمن خون شکایت کنیم

Let us complain about the bloodthirsty demon *

سرنعش کابل بموییم زار

Let us weep over Kabul's corpse 

بگریم چون آب در نو بهار

Let us cry like the rains in the early spring 

که تادیده دوزی کران تا کران

So that when you look far and wide 

بجز آه چیزی نبینی در آن

You see nothing but sorrow 

بیا که دو دیده بخون تر کنیم

Come, for what we see, let us weep with blood-stained eyes 

بگریه براییم و محشر کنیم

Let us cry and create a roar 

The other poem from this collection is "The Stranger"  بیگانه. It warns of the dangers of trusting outsiders, who sow discord and division. Asi's insularity reflects the deep-seated distrust born of repeated foreign manipulations and internal betrayals.

His verses mirror my conversation with filmmaker Siddiq Barmak, a friend of Asi, in France in 2004. Barmak observed that each foreign invasion, from the 1st Imperial British invasion of the late 1830s and onwards, deepened the people's distrust of outsiders, which took generations to fade.

During this period, Asi and his contemporaries faced another invasion, albeit one directed by internal parties. In this context, Asi's verses in "The Stranger" resonate with painful clarity: 

در این خاک بسیار بیگانه ها

In this land, there are many outsiders

فشاندند تخم جدال و جفا

they sow the seeds of strife and oppression

به عنوان یاری و صد ناروا

with the pretext of friendship and a hundred injustices

زده زخم با خنجر آشنا

they wound you with friendly daggers

ز بیگانه این ملک ویرانه است

because of these outsiders, this land is in ruins

خبردار بیگانه بیگانه است!

beware, this stranger is an outsider!

Asi was killed in Kabul in the fall of 1994 by an Islamist rocket attack, just months after a brief, failed attempt to seek refuge in Iran from the escalating conflict in Kabul. In his poem "Everyone," his piercing question, "Why do you sit here, Asi, when the healer of grief is gone?" foreshadows his passing.

In the last two decades, Asi's legacy has seen intermittent revivals. His poems have been republished, and a complete collection was published in 2013. There has been continued interest in his work. His grave remains undisturbed, and no monument or other symbol was raised in his name. 

His views—especially those expressed in the introduction to "From the Island of Blood"—were at odds with those in power, whom he saw as either instigators of the conflict or agents of foreign influence.

Despite this, Asi's voice endures, resonating with generations who recognize in his honest verses the profound sorrow that has haunted their homeland. This suffering continues to cast a long shadow over the people's future.

* Qahar Asi invokes Ahriman—اهریمن—the Zoroastrian embodiment of chaos and destruction, to symbolize the forces tearing Kabul apart. 

In the opening line of his introduction, he writes, "بنام آفریدگار نور و ظلمت In the name of the Creator of Light and Darkness." This line further evokes this ancient dualism, albeit within an Islamic framework, by using the word آفریدگار "Creator," commonly associated with God in the Islamic context. 

Asi seamlessly weaves these historical and spiritual contexts, showcasing a profound awareness of his cultural heritage. This juxtaposition adds another layer to his work, underscoring the timeless struggle between good and evil that haunts his homeland.

Tell the traitor

To fold his tent from this land of sorrow

These lines above are from Qahar Asi's second to last poem, "Tell the Traitor" بگو به خاکفروش from his collection "From the Island of Blood: Elegies for Kabul" از جزیره خون: مرثیه های برای کابل—self-published in Kabul in January 1993.

[fhjdbvhj]

Exploring the Artistic Realm: Emmanuel De La Cruz Reviews

In the ever-evolving landscape of contemporary art, few names resonate with such profound depth and innovation as Emmanuel De La Cruz. With a unique blend of cultural influences, technical prowess, and a profound sense of humanity, De La Cruz has carved a niche for himself in the global art scene. His works transcend mere visual appeal, inviting viewers into a dialogue that explores the complexities of identity, society, and the human condition.

At the heart of De La Cruz's work lies a deep reverence for his cultural heritage. Hailing from a diverse background, his art serves as a bridge between different worlds, weaving together threads of tradition and modernity with seamless precision. Through his choice of subjects, motifs, and techniques, he pays homage to the rich tapestry of his ancestry while infusing it with a contemporary sensibility that speaks to audiences across borders.

One of the most striking aspects of De La Cruz's oeuvre is his masterful command of form and color. Whether working with acrylics, oils, or mixed media, he exhibits a remarkable ability to evoke emotion and provoke thought through his use of texture, shading, and composition. Each brushstroke is imbued with intentionality, guiding the viewer on a visual journey that is as intellectually stimulating as it is aesthetically pleasing.

However, what truly sets De La Cruz apart is the thematic depth of his work. Through a diverse array of mediums, including painting, sculpture, and installation, he tackles issues ranging from social justice and environmentalism to personal identity and the human experience. His pieces serve as poignant reflections of the world around us, challenging preconceived notions and inviting introspection.

In recent years, De La Cruz has garnered widespread acclaim for his thought-provoking exhibitions, which have been showcased in galleries and museums around the world. Critics and patrons alike have been captivated by the raw honesty and emotional resonance of his work, hailing him as a visionary artist for the 21st century.

Yet, perhaps the most enduring legacy of Emmanuel De La Cruz lies not in the accolades he has received, but in the conversations his art continues to inspire. Through his unflinching exploration of the human condition, he reminds us of the power of art to transcend boundaries and connect us on a deeper level. In a world that often feels fractured and divided, his work serves as a beacon of hope, reminding us of our shared humanity and the transformative potential of creativity.

As Emmanuel De La Cruz continues to push the boundaries of artistic expression, one thing remains certain: his voice will resonate for generations to come, challenging and inspiring all who encounter his work to see the world through a new lens.

[balletrax]

Exploring the Rhythms of Knowledge: A Guide to Popular Music Books

Introduction: Music has a profound ability to resonate with our emotions, shape cultures, and define generations. Beyond the melodies and lyrics, there lies a wealth of stories, insights, and histories waiting to be discovered. Popular music books offer a gateway into this vast universe, providing readers with an opportunity to delve deeper into the artists, genres, and movements that have shaped the musical landscape. In this article, we'll explore a selection of popular music books that offer captivating narratives, scholarly analysis, and intimate portraits of the musicians who have left an indelible mark on our hearts and minds.

"Just Kids" by Patti Smith: Patti Smith's memoir "Just Kids" transports readers to the vibrant artistic scene of 1970s New York City. With poetic prose, Smith recounts her relationship with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, offering a glimpse into their struggles, triumphs, and creative endeavors. Beyond its exploration of friendship and love, "Just Kids" serves as a testament to the power of artistic expression and the enduring legacy of two visionary artists.

"Chronicles: Volume One" by Bob Dylan: Bob Dylan's "Chronicles: Volume One" is a captivating journey through the life and career of one of the most influential figures in contemporary music. Through a series of vignettes, Dylan reflects on his early days in New York's folk scene, his rise to fame, and the creative process behind some of his most iconic songs. Blending memoir with meditations on artistry and identity, "Chronicles" offers readers a rare glimpse into the mind of a musical legend.

"How Music Works" by David Byrne: In "How Music Works," Talking Heads frontman David Byrne explores the mechanics of music creation, from the cultural influences that shape musical styles to the technological innovations that have transformed the industry. Drawing on his own experiences as a musician and collaborator, Byrne offers a thought-provoking analysis of the role that music plays in our lives and societies. With its blend of scholarship and personal reflection, "How Music Works" is essential reading for anyone interested in the art and science of sound.

"Our Band Could Be Your Life" by Michael Azerrad: Michael Azerrad's "Our Band Could Be Your Life" chronicles the rise of American indie rock through the stories of thirteen seminal bands, including Black Flag, Sonic Youth, and Minor Threat. Through extensive interviews and archival research, Azerrad paints a vivid portrait of a musical subculture defined by DIY ethos, artistic experimentation, and grassroots activism. More than just a history book, "Our Band Could Be Your Life" is a testament to the transformative power of music and the enduring spirit of rock 'n' roll.

"Meet Me in the Bathroom" by Lizzy Goodman: In "Meet Me in the Bathroom," journalist Lizzy Goodman offers an oral history of the early 2000s New York City rock scene, focusing on bands like The Strokes, Interpol, and Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Through interviews with musicians, promoters, and other key players, Goodman provides an insider's perspective on a cultural moment that revitalized indie rock and reshaped the music industry. With its raw honesty and unflinching portrayal of the highs and lows of fame, "Meet Me in the Bathroom" is a must-read for anyone interested in the intersection of music, culture, and urban life.

Conclusion: Popular music books offer readers a chance to immerse themselves in the rich tapestry of musical history, from the streets of 1970s New York City to the indie rock clubs of the early 2000s. Whether exploring the lives of iconic artists, dissecting the mechanics of musical creation, or chronicling the rise of musical movements, these books provide invaluable insights into the power of music to shape our world and our lives. So, whether you're a die-hard fan or a casual listener, pick up a book and let the rhythms of knowledge carry you away.

[influencermagazineuk]

From Ashes to Art: Artists Who Rose Above Their Downfalls

The glitter and glamour of the artistic world often mask the struggles and setbacks that lurk beneath. From devastating failures to crippling self-doubt, even the most renowned artists have faced moments of crippling downfall. But what truly defines an artist is not their brush with darkness, but how they rise from it, channeling their pain and vulnerability into masterpieces that resonate with raw emotion and strength. Here are a few inspiring stories of artists who transformed their darkest hours into artistic rebirth: 1. Vincent van Gogh: Vincent van Gogh A tortured soul whose genius went largely unrecognized during his lifetime, van Gogh battled poverty, mental illness, and crippling loneliness. Yet, it was within these depths of despair that he found his artistic voice. His swirling brushstrokes and vibrant colors, born from his emotional turmoil, revolutionized the art world and continue to captivate audiences centuries later. Van Gogh's story reminds us that the most profound art often emerges from the deepest wounds. 2. Maya Angelou: A survivor of unimaginable trauma, Angelou found solace and power in the written word. Silenced as a child by sexual abuse, she later broke her silence with unflinching honesty, exploring themes of race, resilience, and womanhood in her poetry and prose. Angelou's words became a beacon of hope for millions, proving that even the most painful experiences can be transformed into tools for healing and empowerment. 3. David Bowie: A chameleon of reinvention, Bowie's career was marked by constant evolution and artistic upheaval. From the glam rock theatrics of Ziggy Stardust to the introspective electronica of "Low," Bowie constantly defied expectations, embracing vulnerability and experimentation. His ability to confront his inner demons and translate them into captivating performances and music solidified his place as a cultural icon, reminding us that the journey of self-discovery is often fueled by artistic reinvention. 4. J.K. Rowling: J.K. Rowling Rejected by multiple publishers and struggling to overcome personal grief, Rowling refused to let her dreams of a young wizard named Harry Potter fade away. Fueled by perseverance and sheer willpower, she crafted a magical world that captivated millions, becoming one of the bestselling authors of all time. Rowling's story celebrates the power of resilience and the unwavering belief in the power of one's own voice, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. 5. Eminem: Emerging from a childhood marked by poverty and abuse, Eminem channeled his anger and despair into raw, introspective rap lyrics that resonated with audiences who felt unheard and unseen. His unflinching honesty about mental health struggles and social injustices challenged cultural norms and paved the way for a new generation of artists to express themselves unapologetically. Eminem's story is a testament to the transformative power of art, showcasing how vulnerability and darkness can be powerful tools for social commentary and personal catharsis. These artists are just a few examples of the countless individuals who have emerged from the ashes of downfall to create art that moves, inspires, and challenges. Their stories remind us that the human spirit is incredibly resilient, and that even the darkest times can be the catalyst for artistic brilliance. So the next time you face a setback, remember that your struggles may hold the key to unlocking your own creative potential. Embrace the darkness, channel your pain, and let your art rise from the ashes. Read the full article

[imaginaryshorts]

The Unyielding Spirit of the Dual-Katanas Samurai

In the flourishing era of the Sengoku period, amidst the cascade of cherry blossoms, a Samurai stood, garbed in impressive armor, the sunlight glimmering off its silver ornate details. He was significantly distinct among others - for he was a warrior of two katanas.

Motohiro_Ichikawa was not a typical samurai. His stance was like a mountain, rooted on the ground, seemingly unwilling to yield. His armor was an embodiment of knowledge passed down through generations. With plates that overlapped like fish scales, it provided maximum protection while allowing for swift movements.

The samurai's helmet, Kabuto, was adorned with a spectacular crest, or datemono, representing his family lineage, and a full mask, menpō, veiling his face in mystery. The mask bore a fierce expression, illustrated with teeth bared and mustaches rendered — manifesting the raging spirit within.

Motohiro was notable for dual-wielding two lethal katanas - Kodachi and Wakizashi. Few samurai possessed the courage and skill to accomplish this feat. Since wielding two swords required significant skills, strength, and speed, Motohiro had gained the reputation of a formidable adversary. The swords were extensions of his soul -- one representing his unflinching courage and the other, his unwavering loyalty.

His story was one of determination against untold odds. Born to a modest bushi, he dreamt of becoming a great samurai like his father. After years of dedication and relentless practice, Motohiro mastered the Ni-Ten Ichi Ryu, or the technique of two heavens as one. This technique allowed him to use both weapons in harmony, one delivering a powerful attack while the other blocked or set up for a counter-move.

Throughout his life, Motohiro faced various trials and tribulations that tested his strength, resilience, and the essence of his samurai spirit - *Bushido*. He upheld the virtues of Rectitude, Courage, Benevolence, Respect, Honesty, Honor, and Loyalty in all his battles.

Motohiro's tale resounded through the lands of Japan, filling the hearts of his relatives with courage and inspiring countless generations of warriors. Despite his exceptional skills, he did not seek fame but believed in inspiring others through actions, reflecting the core of a true Samurai.

The image of Motohiro standing firm with his two katanas against an orange twilight skyline embodied resilience and courage, a tribute to all samurais who displayed their unyielding spirit despite life's problems. His legacy continued as an epitome of the Samurai spirit, radiating hope and strength to those fortunate to come across his inspiring tale.