#artist is marcus stone

[diioonysus]

"There are people who have money and people who are rich."

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Marcus Stone (1840-1921) "An Interrupted Duel" (1868)

[myteaplace]

Ophelia, Marcus C. Stone (1840-1921)

[onlinesweetheart]

<3

[thecrowsartnest]

Moria was weirdly difficult to draw

[softpascalito]

I Healing Hands I Marcus Acacius I

Summary: Acacius returns home with an injury—and you try to care for him. But his ideas of healing (and baths) are a little ... different. Especially when you finally have some time to yourselves.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 2.3k Tags: Explicit, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Handjobs, Nipple Play, Dirty Talk, Bathing/Washing, Blood & Injury, Secret Relationship, Mention of Period-Typical Violence, Mention of Period-Typical Slavery, Not historically accurate

AO3 LINK // Masterlist

notes: i can't believe i wrote smut about romans. anyway, i can't wait to see the trailer, enjoy the porn <3

domus - a type of house dulcissima - sweetest anaticula - little duck (affectionate) subligaculum - a type of underwear (i had three years of latin so i absolutely know what i'm doing)

The domus he lives in sits on the edge of Palatine hill, a small house that feels more welcoming to you than any palace could. The atrium is decorated with a variety of plants, the green colors peaking through the columns that line the sides of the open space. You’ve come to know the details of this place well, from the feel of the stones below your feet to the artistically created, coffered ceilings.

As you let your gaze wander over the sunlit atrium, you find yourself looking at the small statue that sits in the middle of a small fountain, both almost hidden by the plants around them. The water below reflects the merciless sun above and sends small reflections of light dancing across the open space. The form of Apollo stands still, frozen in a heroic movement with one arm raised and his head held high.

The god of music, of truth, and most importantly, of healing. You always think your presence in this house must please him, because since being here, you have felt more healing than you have known before.

You hear Acacius before you see him, his breath coming in a little shorter than you’d like. His footsteps sound through the atrium and you catch glimpses of him as he passes behind the columns on the other side. Even from a distance, the way he’s holding himself tells you he’s hurt, not to mention the dirt on him and his armor. The golden details usually shine in the sun—now they look almost ancient, covered in grime.

You sent a silent prayer to Apollo, your eyes briefly flying back to the statue. When you turn back towards Acacius, he has rounded the corner, making his way over to you, though much slower than he usually would. A small sigh leaves his lips as his eyes land on you and you can see his body deflate visibly.

“Acacius.”

You’re by his side in an instant, attempting to let him prop himself up on you, to use your body to support his. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your own arms around him, a hand finding his hair and attempting to brush through it—only to find it matted with blood. He must feel you tense next to him, a sharp breath escaping you as your fingers feel over his scalp, trying to locate the wound.

“Not mine,” he mumbles under his breath. He pauses for a short moment. “I promised I would come back.”

“You always do and yet I dread the day you will break that promise,” you say, a sad smile playing around your lips. You pull back enough to look at him, taking in the small cuts on his face and the deep lines between his brows that you want to smooth out until he looks as peaceful as he does in his sleep.

He does not protest when you try to take some of his weight on you, silently wishing you could take his worries too, and lead him away from the atrium and towards the small bath that is off to the side. You maneuver him through the small archway that is framed by beige columns on either side and into the middle of the room, the scent of the bath salts filling your nostrils as soon as you take a deep breath.

Acacius lifts his right arm—and immediately screws his face up in pain. You send a stern glance his way. “Let me do that.”

You nudge his arm to the side just enough to reach the leather strings that hold his armor together, slowly working your way through them until you can easily slide the dark leather off him, shaking your head weakly when you see how caked with blood and dirt it is. When you’ve placed the armor on one of the stone benches that line the wall, you move on to his braces and his shoes—and finally, the undercloth, taking it off just as carefully and leaving him in just his underwear.

And then, you suddenly see the reason he’s holding himself the way he is.

A nasty cut marks his right side, just below the ribs. You swallow hard, reaching out and tracing the dried blood around it with a motion that comes naturally. You feel Acacius shift under your fingers, bringing his own hands towards yours and wrapping them around it. They fit perfectly, his grip strong despite his injury.

Your gaze is drawn back to his face by the movement and he smiles weakly. “It looks much worse than it is, dulcissima.”

He’s not wrong. He’s definitely had worse injuries, including the time he barely made it to the atrium, instead collapsing into your arms just behind the entrance to the domus. But, quite frankly, it doesn’t mean you don’t worry.

“It stopped bleeding halfway here,” Acacius adds, correctly interpreting your silence.

“Why didn’t you clean yourself at the baths? They would’ve tended to your wound.” You search his face as you speak.

“I wanted to be with you.”

You sigh disapprovingly at his response, though you can’t deny you like to have him close too, especially when he’s injured. Which, with him, feels like it’s every other day.

He leans down to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, mumbling. “It really does not hurt all that much anymore.” His arm sneaks back around you, though his hand is now wandering much lower than it did before.

You bite your lip, trying to give him another stern look but you can feel the way you begin to falter as he smoothes circles into the fabric of your tunic. “Acacius, your servants—”

“They are busy,” he assures you, dragging his lips over your cheek and towards your earlobe. “Besides, if any of them attempted to talk, I’d have their heads.”

You listen into the silence that follows, almost determined to catch a pair of feet approaching or a voice in the distance. But the only sounds that reach your ears are those of the small fountain in the atrium and Acacius’s breath against your skin.

“We won’t be disturbed,” he hums and you sigh in defeat, reaching down to undo his subligaculum, the soft fabric falling away to reveal the trail of dark hair that leads down towards his cock. You’re only mildly surprised to find him already half-hard.

“Let me clean you first at least,” you mutter, leading him further into the room and towards the small bath embedded in the tiled floor. You sit him down at the edge of it, letting him dangle his legs into the warm water. You reach for a cloth, wet it slightly and get to work. You start with his arms, watching as the dirt and blood starts to come off, revealing the tanned skin underneath.

You hear Acacius sigh above you and you feel his eyes on you, the soft gaze he looks at you with so different from the one he carries on the battlefield. His hands begin wandering again, dipping below the thin fabric of your tunic and you are just reaching down to wet the cloth again when he manhandles you into him, placing you comfortably on his lap.

You tense for a split moment before he catches your lips in a kiss—and then you hear yourself sigh as the protest inside you makes space for a fire that’s rapidly building in your lower abdomen. You can smell him, his sweat mixed with a hint of blood, you can feel the dirt rubbing off on you but you don’t care. You just want him.

His voice is a growl. “Merda, get out of that thing already.”

You obey, crawling off him and slipping the tunic off your body, carelessly letting it fall to the dirty floor. You see Acacius’s eyes raking over your body, taking in every curve like he’s seeing you for the first time rather than the hundreth.

“You are as beautiful as the gods, my dulcissima,” he mumbles, pulling you back onto his lap, one hand securely placed on your back to keep you from falling into the water behind you.

He’s careful not to lean on his bad side as he sneaks his free hand between your bodies, dragging it down ever so slowly until he reaches your mound, his index finger drawing a few circles around your bundle of nerves before moving on, a smile spreading over his lips when he finds wetness waiting for him between your legs.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as he inserts a finger without warning, the size of them always taking you slightly by surprise. His moves are shallow, never quite pulling his finger out completely but always keeping you on that delicious edge. When he adds a second one and starts curling them, he has you whimpering almost immediately.

“Marcus, please—”

“I thought I was Acacius to you. Just to make sure you do not—how did you put it—slip up,” he mumbles, a smirk on his face. The groan you intend to sound annoyed comes out much more desperate than you would like.

“You know we have to be careful—” you try to start, but with his fingers inside you, your brain simply does not work the way it usually does.

“One of these days, I’ll make you my wife,” he mumbles into your ear, his voice so low you can barely hear it. Without taking his eyes off yours, his thumb finds the spot that, combined with his words, almost drives you over the edge. “And you’ll live with me and we can make as many babies as you want.”

It catches you off-guard, but not in an unpleasant way. It’s just a fantasy, one that may very well be unattainable, but you like to let your mind drift there regardless. Judging by the twitch his cock gives against your skin, you’re clearly not the only one who does.

At that thought, you manage to hold off a bit longer and reach for him in return, enjoying the way his breath catches in his throat when your hand wraps around his attention-starved cock. His gaze flies down, to your bodies already so intertwined, touching each other impatiently. And you know he craves it as much as you do—to be even closer, to feel the weight of him nestled inside of you.

“You are so dirty,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand and making you whine at the loss. He wipes at some of the dirt on your thigh, mixing it with your own juices.

“And you seem to rather enjoy that,” you mumble back, squeezing him slightly. An affirmative chuckles leaves his throat before he lifts you up and lowers you into the small bath in front of him, the warm water immediately soothing your body.

He follows a moment later, stepping into the blue mass. A few petals swirl around on the surface, stirred by your movements in the water as he pulls you close again, his body seemingly all around you as he wraps you in his arms. Then he lowers his head, trailing kisses over your collarbone and down your skin until he reaches your chest, grazing his teeth over your hardened nipple.

“Marcus—” you whine, impatiently pressing your body into his, attempting to get any friction, a task made even harder by the water around you. “I want you inside, please.”

“Always so polite, Anaticula,” he mumbles into your skin but he does satisfy himself with one more nip at your skin before pulling back. “Is that what you want?”

You nod impatiently and feel him lining himself up below you, gently directing you towards the far edge of the bath, where he immediately braces himself against the wall for support with you in his arms—and just a moment later, you can feel him sink into you.

Your bodies mold together, his cock making you feel so deliciously full and complete. You can hear him grunt as he begins to thrust into you gently, his hands on your hips as he guides you onto him again and again, making you moan into his neck as you cling on, half a mind not to touch his injury.

Acacius groans your name, his movements speeding up slightly. “Come on, I want to see your pretty face, dulcissima.” You pull back enough to see him and press your forehead against his. Your thumb comes up to wipe a spot of dirt off his face and brush over his beard, the hairs of it more gray than dark, like they were when you first met, and for a few moments, you both just stare at each other as the water around you ripples with your movements.

“Let go for me.” It's just a whisper—and one you don’t think you could ignore if you tried. You feel the wave wash over you, your vision going weak as you fall apart—knowing that Acacius will hold you close until you’re put together again. You barely notice that he follows suit, spilling himself inside of you with whispered promises of all the things you’ll have one day.

You stay intertwined in the water like that for a while. Eventually, you begin to gather some in your hand and let it run down Acacius’s scalp, beginning to wash the dried blood out of the gray-streaked hair.

“You are going to let me put a proper bandage on your cut once we get out,” you state, earning a loyal nod from him. His eyes are searching yours again, carrying the soft look you know is reserved for you.

“I did come back,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion and you suddenly feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“I know.”

You kiss him softly and he kisses you back just as softly as you curl into him, inhaling his scent and pulling him close and ever closer, determined to let noone take you from him.

thank you for reading! feel free to follow my socials or leave a comment if you want more of slutty roman men <3

[classicalcanvas]

Title: Welcome Footsteps

Artist: Marcus Stone

Date: 1898

Style: Romanticism

Genre: Genre Painting

[saintmeghanmarkle]

📋 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐌 𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐑𝐎, 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝟒𝟎𝐱𝟒𝟎 📋

📌 ARO jam recipients (as of May 27th, 2024)

Tracy Robbins (designer, wife of Paramount Pictures CEO Brian Robbins) *

Delfina Balquier (Argentine socialite, wife of Nacho Figueras) * and Nacho Figueras (professional polo player) *

Kelly Mckee Zajfen (friend, Alliance of Moms founder) *

Mindy Kaling (actress and comedian) *

Tracee Ellis Ross (actress, daughter of Diana Ross)

Abigail Spencer (friend, Suits co-star) *

Chrissy Teigen (television personality, wife of John Legend)

Kris Jenner ('Momager') *

Garcelle Beauvais (actress, Real Housewives of Beverly Hills) *

Heather Dorak (friend, yoga instructor) *

📌 Archetypes podcast guests

Serena Williams 🏆

Mariah Carey 👑

Mindy Kaling (actress and comedian) *

Margaret Cho (comedian and actress)

Lisa Ling (journalist and tv personality)

Deepika Padukone (Indian actress)

Jenny Slate (actress and comedian)

Constance Wu (actress)

Paris Hilton (entrepreneur, socialite, activist)

Iliza Shlesinger (comedian and actress)

Issa Rae (actress and writer)

Ziwe (comedian and writer)

Sophie Grégoire Trudeau (former wife of Canadian PM Trudeau)

Pamela Adlon (actress)

Sam Jay (comedian and writer)

Mellody Hobson (President and co-CEO of $14.9B Ariel Investments, Chairwoman of Starbucks Corporation, wife of George Lucas)

Victoria Jackson (entrepreneur, wife of Bill Guthy: founder of Guthy-Renker, leading direct marketing company)

Jameela Jamil (actress, television host)

Shohreh Aghdashloo (Iranian and American actress)

Michaela Jaé Rodriguez (actress and singer)

Candace Bushnell (Sex and The City writer)

Trevor Noah (South African comedian)

Andy Cohen (talk show host)

Judd Apatow (director, producer, screenwriter)

source

📌 40x40 participants

Adele 🌟

Amanda Gorman (poet and activist)

Amanda Nguyen (activist)

Ayesha Curry (actress, cooking television personality)

Ciara (singer and actress)

Deepak Chopra (author and alternative medicine advocate)

Dr. Nadine Burke Harris (former Surgeon General of California)

Elaine Welteroth (former Editor-in-Chief of Teen Vogue)

Dr. Ibram X Kendi (professor and anti-racism activist)

Fernando Garcia (creative director of Oscar de la Renta)

Gabrielle Union (actress)

Gloria Steinem (feminist journalist and social-political activist)

Hillary Clinton (politician, wife of former US President Bill Clinton)

Katie Couric (journalist) *

Kerry Washington (actress)

Chef José Andrés (founder of World Central Kitchen)

Melissa McCarthy (actress)

Princess Eugenie (member of British Royal Family)

Priyanka Chopra (actress)

Sarah Paulson (actress)

Sofia Carson (actress)

Sophie Grégoire Trudeau (former wife of Canadian PM)

Stella McCartney (fashion designer, daughter of Paul McCartney)

Dr. Theresa "Tessy" Ojo - CBE, FRSA (Diana Award CEO)

Tracee Ellis Ross (actress, daughter of Diana Ross)

Unconfirmed - Edward Enninful (former Editor-in-Chief of British Vogue)

Unconfirmed - Daniel Martin (makeup artist) *

An official list of all "40x40" participants was never disclosed

source 1 // source 2 // source 3

📌 Notes:

Names with an asterisk (*) indicate that they follow ARO on Instagram

Notably missing from these lists: Netflix CEO Ted Sarandos and wife Nicole Avant, Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez, Beyoncé, Tina Knowles, Tyler Perry, Oprah Winfrey, Gayle King, Kevin Costner, Ellen DeGeneres, Portia Rossi *, Brooke Shields, John Travolta, Kelly Rowland, Holly Robinson Peete, Misan Harriman *, Michael Bublé

Wedding guests missing from these lists: Jessica Mulroney, George and Amal Clooney, David and Victoria Beckham, Idris Elba and Sabria Dhowre, James Blunt and Sofia Wellesley, Janina Gavankar, Elton John and David Furnish, James Corden and Julia Carey, Patrick J. Adams and the rest of the cast of Suits, Joss Stone, Tom Hardy and Charlotte Riley, Carey Mulligan and Marcus Mumford [Source]

Sunshine Sachs must've called in a LOT of favors to get so many famous names on board the Archetypes Podcast and the 40x40 project. Vanity projects that went... nowhere.

Without Sunshine Sachs, IMO it's highly unlikely that M will ever be able to reach the same level of celebrity access on her own.

If there are any names missing from these lists, please comment below 👇

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author: SeptièmeSens

submitted: May 27, 2024 at 06:44PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[chainofclovers]

Hacks 3x9 (& etc.) thoughts

YEAH!

So !!!!! about everything

It felt really obvious to me that Deborah was lying to Ava about Steve ("you could take me shopping"??? fuck all the way off) and the way the lie and the very, very genuine hurt of their fight and the stone-cold perfect execution of the blackmail unfurls is....glorious. I love that Ava has grown enough to listen to her manager and do the thing that makes sense for her career (and that really will make the Late Night show great if it's gonna be great!), but is also showing that hunger she has. In s1 that hunger didn't really have a direction, and in s2 she just wanted to get back into Deborah's good graces, and all the growth of s3 just put her into the perfect position to feel TRULY betrayed but also to find leverage and it worked so well and I love, love, love it.

And I love all the heartbreak hurtling its way towards Deborah. Her sister has rejected her with a finality that feels more lasting (even though I wouldn't be surprised if we haven't seen the last of Kathy). And Ava has finally distinguished herself as someone capable of playing the game, which means Deborah can no longer trust that deep down, Ava's devotion is boundless. (Even if maybe it still is a little bit on some level who's to say :sweat-smile:.) What happens when Marcus finally tells her he's leaving? How lonely is she going to feel then? And when will she notice?

My wife is very smart and when we were chatting about our predictions for this episode, she said she felt certain this season would end with Ava and Deborah very much working together because the real stakes of this season are the stakes of getting and keeping Late Night. She was completely right. Obviously there's new betrayal, new tension, but it's all part of the age-old selfishness of Deborah's ambitions, which she hasn't learned how to have her own control of even if she thinks she's in control.

The Biff Cliff scene felt very slightly heavy-handed to me, but the more I ponder the more I'm like. Nah. That was needed. Because Deborah is STILL seeking advice and input and understanding from the sorts of men who will never, ever feel compelled to put in the same effort to understand her. She's grown..the whole sequence in 3x4 in which she defends bisexuality to her comedy idols and listens in through the vent and comes home to fight with Ava????? And when she actually listens at the town hall?????...but that was never gonna be a perfectly linear thing. And Ava learns that lesson the hard way.

When the makeup artist finds out Ava is a writer and thinks she needs to redo her makeup and gets her a pencil to hold in the photoshoot? I was HOWLING.

I love this show so much. So much. Ahhhhhhhh. This was so disjointed but I watched before work and it's gonna be a hell of a day and I just had to get my initial thoughts out beyond just screaming with my wife (who has now left for work so I can't even do that again for hours).

[zapreportsblog]

hi! can you make a few headcanons or scenario or whatever you want with volturi kings and a human or vampre mate with i cassie ainsworth (from skins uk) like personality?

"...Cassie was a reasonably smart and often times spiritual and artistic with a deep caring nature for those around her, she could also identify many issues people had by merely listening to descriptions of them. She quirky, spacy, and fragile. Cassie can be found wandering around Bristol with a dreamy expression on her face and her head in the clouds. Don’t let her detached exterior fool you though. Cassie is extremely sensitive. The slightest snub could trigger a spell of depression..."

I honestly had no clue how to write this one

❝headcanon : you as the volturi mate with Cassie personality ❞

✭ pairing : volturi x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ twilight masterlist

In the intricate and regal world of the Volturi, there was an extraordinary presence that stood out among the ancient vampire coven - (Y/N). She embodied the personality traits of Cassie Ainsworth, creating a unique dynamic within the ruling trio of kings: Aro, Caius, and Marcus.

(Y/N) possessed a brilliant mind, her intelligence shining through in various ways. She was known for her philosophical musings and her deep, spiritual insights that often left those around her in awe. Her artistic inclinations manifested through her ability to create mesmerizing works of art that conveyed emotions beyond words.

But it was her boundless empathy and caring nature that truly set her apart. Much like Cassie, (Y/N) had an uncanny ability to identify the hidden issues and emotional struggles of others with nothing more than a description. She became the emotional anchor of the Volturi, offering understanding and support to the vampires who lived in a world of shadows and secrets.

Despite her intellect and talents, (Y/N) often seemed quirky and spacey to those who didn't know her well. She could frequently be found wandering the corridors of the Volturi castle, a dreamy expression on her face, her thoughts lost in the depths of her own introspection.

It was essential for those around her to remember that her detached exterior was misleading. (Y/N) was incredibly sensitive, and the smallest slight or criticism could trigger profound spells of depression. Her emotions ran deep, and she felt the weight of the world's pain on her shoulders.

Aro, Caius, and Marcus recognized the precious jewel that was (Y/N). Each of them was drawn to different aspects of her personality, finding in her a mate who provided them with unique emotional insights and balance. They protected her, not just for her blood but for the rare emotional depth she brought to their lives.

Together, they formed a complex and loving family within the Volturi's elegant fortress. (Y/N)'s presence added an unexpected layer of compassion and empathy to the ruling coven, reminding them of the intricate beauty of the human experience they had left behind. In a world of darkness, she was their beacon of emotional light, anchoring them to the profound emotions they had long suppressed.

❝a quirky arrival❞

Within the ancient stone walls of Volterra, where the powerful and enigmatic Volturi reigned supreme, there existed an extraordinary presence - (Y/N). Her personality was a blend of whimsy, fragility, and profound depth, much like Cassie Ainsworth from Skins UK. (Y/N) had captured the hearts of the three Volturi Kings - Aro, Caius, and Marcus - in a way that no one else ever had.

On this particular evening, a sense of anticipation hung in the air as the trio of kings awaited her arrival. (Y/N) was making her way to Volterra, guided by her unique intuition and sporadic sense of direction. Her head was often in the clouds, and she saw the world through a dreamy, whimsical lens.

As she wandered through the grand hallways of the Volturi castle, she observed the opulence and darkness of her new surroundings with a sense of detached wonder. Her presence seemed to light up the room, but it was her fragility and sensitivity that drew the kings to her.

Aro, the charismatic and intellectually voracious leader of the Volturi, watched her with fascination. He saw in her a reservoir of deep emotions, hidden beneath her whimsical exterior. Caius, with his rigid and stern demeanor, was inexplicably drawn to her fragile nature, sensing a unique connection that defied explanation. Marcus, the quiet and introspective king, found solace in (Y/N)'s dreamy presence, as if her thoughts mirrored his own silent contemplations.

(Y/N)'s arrival was a departure from the usual business-like atmosphere of the Volturi. Her quirky and spacey personality provided an unexpected counterbalance to their world of power and immortality. She had a deep caring nature for those around her, and her empathetic abilities were unparalleled. With nothing more than a description, she could identify the hidden struggles and emotional issues that plagued her fellow vampires.

However, there was a caveat to her sensitivity. Like Cassie, the slightest snub or harsh word could trigger a profound spell of depression, and (Y/N) carried the weight of her emotions with a fragility that both fascinated and concerned the kings.

As (Y/N) continued to meander through the castle, her presence sent ripples of intrigue through the Volturi ranks. She was unlike any other mate they had ever encountered, and her arrival promised to bring a new dimension to the lives of Aro, Caius, and Marcus.

The kings watched her with a mixture of curiosity and protectiveness, knowing that (Y/N) was a unique gem in their world of shadows and secrets. In her whimsical presence, they found a glimmer of the humanity they had left behind centuries ago, and they were determined to cherish and protect her as their mate.

As the days turned into weeks, (Y/N) settled into her new life within the Volturi castle. Her presence, like a gentle breath of fresh air, began to weave its own unique tapestry into the fabric of the ancient vampire coven.

Each day was a new adventure for her, as her mind wandered through the intricate hallways and chambers of the castle. Her curious spirit led her to discover hidden corners and long-forgotten artifacts, often eliciting amused smiles from the kings.

Aro, the charismatic and intellectually curious leader, found himself drawn to her spiritual musings and artistic inclinations. They spent hours in the castle's library, discussing philosophy and exploring the depths of human nature. (Y/N)'s insights were profound, and Aro cherished the opportunity to engage her intellect.

Caius, whose stern exterior concealed a deep well of emotions, was inexplicably captivated by (Y/N)'s fragility. He was fascinated by the contrast between her delicate sensitivity and the harsh world they inhabited. Despite his usually stoic demeanor, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward her.

Marcus, the introspective and emotionally reserved king, discovered a kindred spirit in (Y/N). He appreciated her dreamy presence, which mirrored his own silent contemplations. They often found solace in each other's company, their unspoken connection serving as a balm to their ancient souls.

But (Y/N)'s sensitivity was a double-edged sword. In a world where vampires prided themselves on their unfeeling nature, her profound empathy made her vulnerable. The slightest slight or criticism could send her spiraling into spells of melancholy, and the kings had to tread carefully to protect her fragile heart.

One evening, as the Volturi gathered in their grand hall for a formal meeting, (Y/N) sat beside Marcus, her mind drifting into its ethereal realm. Aro, ever the perceptive leader, sensed the fragility of her emotions and addressed the coven with care, ensuring that the atmosphere remained gentle and reassuring.

After the meeting, Marcus placed a comforting hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder, silently sharing an understanding that transcended words. She smiled at him, her eyes reflecting gratitude for his unwavering support.

In this ancient castle filled with shadows and secrets, (Y/N) was like a delicate, irreplaceable flower. Her presence added a touch of humanity to the Volturi, reminding the kings of the beauty and fragility of the human soul they had left behind centuries ago.

The bonds between (Y/N) and the three kings deepened with each passing day, as they navigated the intricate dance of emotions and power. In her, they found not only a mate but a source of profound emotional connection and balance. Their unconventional union continued to evolve, promising both challenges and moments of profound beauty in the dark world of the Volturi.

In the heart of the Volturi's grandeur and darkness, (Y/N)'s presence continued to resonate like a gentle melody. She had settled into her role as the mate to the three kings - Aro, Caius, and Marcus - each of whom cherished her in their own unique way.

Despite the centuries they had lived, (Y/N)'s quirky and sensitive nature breathed life into their existence, a constant reminder of the humanity they had long forsaken.

Aro, the ever-curious leader, reveled in (Y/N)'s spiritual and artistic inclinations. They often spent their evenings discussing philosophy and delving into the depths of human emotions. His thirst for knowledge found a willing companion in her, and their intellectual connection deepened by the day.

Caius, known for his stern exterior, found himself inexplicably drawn to her fragility. In her vulnerability, he saw a reflection of the emotional turmoil he often concealed. (Y/N)'s presence softened his edges, and he became increasingly protective of her.

Marcus, the introspective king, shared a silent kinship with (Y/N). They could sit in companionable silence, their thoughts drifting like autumn leaves on a calm river. His presence brought her comfort, and she found solace in his understanding gaze.

But (Y/N)'s sensitivity remained a delicate thread that bound them all together. The Volturi, who reveled in their unfeeling nature, had to tread carefully around her emotions. The slightest criticism or harsh word could send her spiraling into spells of depression, a fact that weighed on the kings' minds.

One evening, as they gathered in the castle's opulent dining room, (Y/N) sat beside Caius, her mind wandering through the maze of her thoughts. Aro, with his acute perception, noticed the fragile state of her emotions and guided the conversation with care, ensuring it remained gentle and reassuring.

After the meal, (Y/N) found herself in the quiet company of Marcus. They strolled through the castle's dimly lit corridors, their steps echoing in the ancient stone. Words were unnecessary; their presence spoke volumes, offering solace in the silence.

As they gazed at a centuries-old painting hanging on the castle's wall, (Y/N) broke the silence with a soft, whimsical observation. Her words were like a breath of fresh air, a reminder of the human world she had left behind.

Marcus turned to her, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that transcended centuries. In (Y/N)'s presence, he found echoes of the humanity he had lost so long ago, and he cherished those moments of connection.

In this world of shadows and secrets, (Y/N) was a fragile beacon of humanity. Her quirks and sensitivities were a constant reminder to the Volturi kings that they had not completely shed their past. They continued to navigate the intricate dance of emotions and power, their unconventional union promising both challenges and moments of profound beauty.

As they walked the castle's ancient halls, (Y/N) leaned her head on Marcus's shoulder, and he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. In that simple gesture, they found solace, knowing that their love, though unconventional, was as genuine as any in the world.

[archoniluthradanar]

Volturi Masters imagining-Sex

Reading lots of fanfiction about the Volturi leaders and their human mates, I wondered if we assume for a moment that being vampires with still hearts and no blood, how would they keep you pleased when you needed intimacy and their male parts don't function.

*mild smut alert*

Aro loves art, and he's a very tactile person. He would choose several volumes of pornographic art from the 1700s, and meet you in his rooms, delighted to see you already waiting on his bed dressed in something lacy. He sits next to you, and while you lean against him, he will share stories about the artists, explain their inspiration, and glance at you when your tongue runs over your lips. He's told you to do what you want while he speaks, so when he sees your hand reach between your slightly parted thighs, he leans over and kisses your temple. You slide down the bed a bit, then reach over to unbutton his black shirt. Aro shrugs it off so that you can kiss his throat while he sets aside the books and presses his hand to your heated core. He feels the wetness of your panties and slips his hand inside. He smiles when you inhale sharply, his fingers sliding inside you. Aro kisses you, forcing your mouth open with his tongue, inhaling your sweet breath as you gasp from pleasure. When he feels your inner muscles tighten around his fingers, he moves down your body, and ripping the panties off you, he gently forces your legs apart to give him room to taste you. His tongue circles your clit while his fingers once again work their magic sending you into a state of pleasure he knows you enjoy. You've told him you wish you could please him as well, but its wasted. This is always for you. Just to hear you cry out his name and tell him how much you love him while you come is reward enough for him.

Marcus likes to read, so while you lie next to him on his bed, he will read passages of old world pornography, proving to you that porn has been an accepted form of literature for a very long time. His voice is deep and soothing while he reads, the images in your mind heating up your body. When Marcus sees you squirming, he sets down the book and pulls you on top of his long legs, getting you to straddle them. His hands pull you forward to kiss you, his lips moving down your jawline to your neck. He sucks the warm tender flesh, leaving a dark hickey on your skin, his mark claiming you as his own. You lean back while he kisses and sucks on your breasts. He tears your panties off you, his fingers slipping inside you, thrusting deeply, then curling his fingers against your sweet spot. Your murmuring his name over and over tells him he's pleasing you . You close your eyes and move your hips until you feel an orgasm tear through your body. You lean against Marcus, pressing your lips to his throat wishing you could mark him as he has you.

Caius is more of a right-to-the-point man. He wants to get you excited and keep you that way until you've come more than once. He sees himself as the instrument of your pleasure. His bed is the place he takes you, using his fingers to start, then forcing you to lie down where he will lick your cunt until you scream and come, but he will not stop, not yet. He will take his wet fingers and push inside your rear hole, whispering to you to relax when you protest. It does begin to feel better as he thrusts his finger slowly inside you. Caius loves to experiment as well. He found a stone dildo he'd had in his artifact collection, telling you that virgins in ancient Rome were deflowered with it before they were given to their husbands. You close your eyes, imagining it's Caius' hard cock taking you. He uses it until you've experienced several orgasms, begging him to stop before you go mad with pleasure. The wonderful thing about Caius is he will hold you in his arms afterwards, kissing your forehead, and whispering endearments, something you hadn't expected from him your first time together.

[mr-nauseam]

re: ask game

12, 25 for marcus and sejanus!

omg first I appreciate the questions very much buddy!!!!! <3

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Let me think… I can quite proudly say that I got it into vicó's head that Marcus has scars <3

Some on his face, on his neck and a lot on his hands, because he keeps carving too many trees and stuff. Small wooden figures, once he made a small bear, another time a flower for his little sister, and he practiced with many hearts before making the real one in marble (which he clearly gave to Sejanus as a gift).

You know, I think they are both quite artistic in their own particular ways. I like to think that Marcus might have some sort of hobby with woodworking, so he's making some pretty nice carved chairs.

And Sejanus, I've added just about any artistic hobby I could think of. He writes poems and can recite them, he also likes to draw, and he can paint in watercolors, although I don't think he's musical. Of course he likes music but he's terrible at singing, and he can't play any instruments, but back to his drawings and paintings.

I think Sejanus can draw people, and animals but it is rare for him to do so. I think he's more into landscape painting, he's doing landscapes all the time that he remembers from his home in Two, and he's even done some doodles of the desolate landscapes of the Capitol. So brutal, so cold and imposing but he's almost always trying to capture what he remembers of the mountains, of the colorful houses of his old neighborhood, Marcus' house he draws it often, he was there many times in the past.

Btw. The only people I think he has portrayed are Marcus and Coriolanus respectively.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

This may come as a bit of a surprise because I breath and I talk about snowjanus all day long, so it's no surprise guess that I'm obsessed with Coriolanus and Sejanus, especially Sejanus, right?

Now what the heck does that have to do with the question? Well before I saw the movie, at least after I read the book and reread it, I really disliked Coriolanus (I still despise him) and I also found him the least interesting in the book because drum roll I WAS OBSESSED WITH SEJANUS (nobody's surprise) AND MARCUS!!!!!

Sejarcus is actually my first ship I made in TBOSAS <3

So I was turning them both over in my head those weeks before the movie changed me. First things first I found them the most interesting thing about the story, as obvious, not that Snow's dramas wouldn't have been entertaining but what little information I had about Sejanus, ESPECIALLY HOW LITTLE I KNOW ABOUT MARCUS is what made me obsess over them so badly.

Sejanus first struck me as adorable and I was amazed at the multitudes he contained. He was acting like a scared rabbit most of the time, he was sad and depressed but still had the courage to speak up!!! to try to defend his opinions and really cared about people. It was written in stone I would go crazy for him.

And Marcus… So this isn't very relevant but I really like the dectives genre and this guy IS a perfect mystery.

Something that impressed me a lot - and it's something I think about to this day a normal amount - is the contrast between what everyone predicted for him and his end. As everyone keeps saying the odds are that Marcus will be the winner because he is tall and strong but he ends up being, if possible, the biggest loser of the games.

I really almost cried during that scene. And I was really intrigued by his past with Sejanus, the kind gesture, his silence, his isolation, the photograph, the marble heart, the cruelty of fate that he was Sejanus' tribute (or Strabo's cruelty, depending on your interpretation of the matter).

All we knew about Marcus were fragments! less than that! little clear data, which can tell a lot if you are delulu enough and I am delulu enough!

I don't think I've changed my opinion of them? or my perception of them. I still love them with my soul... Maybe there are things that I now see more nuanced, for example I now recognize many of Sejanus' flaws (none) but that's ok I love him more for be so full of flaws <3 and maybe I think I now have a more defined interpretation of who Marcus is in my head, I have a playlist and everything.

And that's all. Hope u like this :))

(and if anybody want ask something Im so into it!)

[the-bed-gremlins-reading-list]

Hi this If looks very interesting! I haven't played the demo yet but I'm very excited to! For now I was wondering if you had a post sharing what the ro's look like for My marriage to the cursed royal?

Quick edit addition because I forgot the first time: Thank you for your interest and for asking! :)

I don't have any images or anything because I'm a terrible artist, and if I tried to do anything they'd probably end up looking like the shrieks from DA:O.

Also none of this is 100% set yet, except Rune who has made their first appearance, I'm still in the middle of deciding the final designs but I'll list everyone out below the cut. I'll do a more polished post once I'm more confident of the appearances.

Lucius - Tall, lean with curly black haired human man with pale violet eyes. Wears his hair long as a matter of vanity. Facial scar but location still under debate. He tends to be practical about his fashion, if a little fussy about neatness when not serving in the military.

Lucia - Tall, lean black haired human woman with pale violet eyes. She wears her hair cropped short to around her ears because she prefers the practicality of it fitting easier in a helmet, she also treats it so it is wavy instead of curly. Facial scar but location is still under debate. Wears earrings even though they're a terrible idea and she's had them yanked out in a fight more than once (she's lucky that she has access to skilled healers) but is otherwise practical (though very neat) about her manner of dress.

(I'm probably going to give the Luxes a medium range skin tone. My original designs had them with "ice pale skin, appropriate for their magic" but I think I would rather give them something more appropriate for just how Greco-Roman the Nasennian empire's ended up. So medium a medium to dark though their undertones will still be cool.)

Rune - Average height, muscular individual who appears to be human. Short curly dark brown hair with blue eyes, skin tone is fair. (I think there's still a reference to them being purple in the demo but they should be blue.) Their appearance as an adult will have heavy scarring along their neck and shoulder and more on their face. Hates wearing anything formal.

Marcus - Tall human man with black coily hair that he wears in a variety of styles (I haven't chosen the one that he'll have when introduced yet) and dark brown skin with warm undertones. Amber colored eyes. He's keen on fashion and wears more jewelry than his elder siblings.

Rossella - Half-elf woman of average height with long brown* hair. She has a golden olive skin tone and dark brown eyes. Has a beauty mark below the left corner of her lips. Conventionally extremely attractive and is considered by many to be one of the most beautiful women in the empire. She's careful to keep at the height of fashion when in public though her private preferences are much more relaxed. She never wears white because it's not practical as a healer and she rarely wears anything with sleeves because they get in the way when using her magic. *Her name is the Italian version of "Scarlet", as a result she's taken to claiming she has red hair and Lux and Marcus when they were younger helped her gaslight the entire court into being too confused to argue about it so she'll sometimes be referred to as red haired, especially by the princes or their people. She is not. It's a medium brown.

Caerwyn - Our ACTUAL red head. He has bright ginger colored hair and, probably, hazel eyes (not set in stone yet I keep changing their color). As a true vampire (versus a dhampir like some MC's and Halli) his eyes will sometimes change as a result of the predatory urge. Haven't quite settled on how I want to do that. He has very pale skin, with a faintly blue undertone. He's of average height and has a crooked nose from it being broken when he was young.

Robin Watcher - She's under construction because there's a plot element I'm fiddling with related to them. Haven't quite gotten it sorted out in my head yet. My original notes on her have her as blond, lots of freckles, curvy, and short with a habit of dressing like a stereotypical bard, bells and all. Those aren't reliable since I'm turning over several ideas at once regarding her. She'll probably end up demonblood - so black sclera - but that isn't settled yet either.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 318. brb x oc

a/n: uwu pls work(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317

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-

It’s been a while since she visited Marcus, actually a few months. She knew he was busy with his new collection -’ a fashion designer never sleeps,darling’ - and she was busy with…life. But now she feels a bit better, a few days have passed since she slept at her parents and had the conversation with Rooster.

So she felt better.

One sunny afternoon, with the kids in tow, she decided to pay a visit to Marcus's studio. As she approached the trendy building that housed Marcus's atelier, the bustling energy of the city surrounded her, a stark contrast to the stormy night that seemed like ages ago.

Entering the studio, the air was alive with the hum of creativity and Eurythmics blasting - quietly- all over the area. Bolts of fabric in vibrant hues adorned the walls, sketches and designs scattered across worktables, and the rhythmic clatter of sewing machines echoed through the space. Marcus, surrounded by his team of talented artisans, looked up from his work with a bright smile.

"Bea, darling! You're a sight for sore eyes," Marcus exclaimed, abandoning his current project to embrace her. The kids, wide-eyed at the vibrant surroundings, took in the colorful array of fabrics and the artistic chaos of the studio.

Beatrice laughed, the sound echoing through the atelier. "Marcus, it's been too long! How's the new collection coming along?"

Marcus beamed with pride, gesturing towards the array of designs. "Oh, darling, you're in for a treat. This collection is my masterpiece, a symphony of colors and textures. You have to see it."

“I hope you don’t mind I brought the kids…”

Marcus waved off Beatrice's concern with a flourish. "Mind? Darling, I adore having the little ones around. They're like tiny muses inspiring my creative genius. Come, come, let me show you around."

With that, Marcus led Beatrice and her kids through the studio.. The kids, wide-eyed and fascinated, watched as designers sketched, seamstresses meticulously sewed, and the entire space buzzed with energy, “Now this,” he gestures to a long dress on a mannequin, “Will be the main focus of the collection.”

"Marcus, this is incredible," Beatrice exclaimed, genuinely impressed. "Did you stone it by yourself?”

Marcus chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, darling, you know me too well. Yes, I stoned it myself. Late nights, endless cups of coffee, and a sprinkle of creative madness. It's my labor of love."

Beatrice admired the intricate details of the dress, the stones catching the light . "It's stunning, Marcus.Like always."

“Oh you’ll make me blush, come come, I have a few pieces for your tiny trio.” cue Nicole babbling excitedly while Bea pushed the double stroller, “Also,darling, you can keep them in the baby room I made just for you.”

“Oh,I know,Marcus.”

Beatrice followed Marcus to a cozy corner of the studio, a room filled with whimsical patterns and soft fabrics. The baby room, as Marcus had affectionately called it, was a haven of pastel colors and plush toys. Nicole's eyes widened in delight as she spotted a collection of stuffed animals, letting go of her mother’s hand to dive right into the pile while Gavin and Aurora curiously explored the room with their eyes.

"Marcus, this is incredible. You didn't have to go through all this trouble," Beatrice said, touched by her friend's thoughtful gesture.

"Nonsense, darling! It's my pleasure. Every time you visit, I want you and the little ones to feel at home. Now, let's get those treasures of yours situated, and we can catch up properly."

As Marcus helped arrange the kids in the cozy space he had created for them, Beatrice couldn't help but marvel at the genuine warmth and care he poured into every detail. Amazing that this friendship happened because of…well,fate.

Once the kids were settled, Marcus ushered Beatrice into a more private area of the studio, away from the creative whirlwind. They settled into a plush sofa, surrounded by swatches of fabric and sketches "So, darling, spill the tea. What brings you to my humble abode today?" Marcus asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Beatrice took a deep breath, chuckling softly, “Boy…where to begin.” she whispers “It’s been a lot.”

Marcus listened intently as Beatrice began to share the events that had unfolded in her life recently.Marcus's expressive face mirrored a range of emotions – concern, surprise, and a touch of intrigue.

Okay maybe a lot of intrigue.

"My dear Bea," Marcus finally said, his voice filled with softness, "you're facing quite the tempest. Tell me, how can I be of help in this storm of yours?"

Beatrice leaned back against the plush sofa, appreciating the genuine concern in Marcus's eyes. "Marcus, I appreciate it but…I’m fine,I’m better than before,honestly.”

Marcus reached out, squeezing Beatrice's hand reassuringly. "Darling, you are sure?”

“I am.”

Marcus nodded thoughtfully. "Well,I’ll have you know that I am very good reading people,it’s part of my job to know how they feel,after all."

 "Yes, you do have that talent, Marcus. It's one of the many things I admire about you."

"Oh, darling, you flatter me. But seriously, I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

The levity in Marcus's words lightened the mood, and Beatric’s smile widened. "Thank you, Marcus. "

"Now, my dear, enough about storms and tempests. Let's talk about something that brings joy to your heart. Dressing you up!”

"Dressing me up? Well, but, the kids—."

Marcus chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, my darling, I have a surprise for the little trio as well. But first, let's focus on you. I've been working on something special, just for you."

“Again? Marcus–”

With that, Marcus disappeared into the depths of his studio, leaving Beatrice curious and slightly bewildered. She couldn't help but wonder what fashionable creation he had in store. Moments later, Marcus returned, holding a garment bag "Ta-da!" Marcus exclaimed, presenting the bag with a flourish. "This, my dear, is a gift from me,to you. Open it, and let me know what you think."

Beatrice took the bag,curiosity coursing through her. As she unzipped it, she revealed a stunning ensemble – a tailored jacket with intricate embroidery that depicted a field of lavender.

Oh she was about to cry.

Beatrice's breath caught as she delicately ran her fingers over the embroidered lavender. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and the vibrant colors seemed to come alive under the studio lights. She couldn't help but be moved by the thoughtful gift from Marcus.

"Marcus, this is... breathtaking," she murmured, her eyes glistening with emotion. "I don't even have words. How did you...?"

"Darling, a magician never reveals his secrets," Marcus teased with a twinkle in his eye. "But seriously, I wanted to create something that reflects your beauty. Lavender, in the language of flowers, symbolizes calmness and grace. You embody both, my dear Bea."

Beatrice was touched, a mixture of gratitude and awe filling her heart. She stood, slipping into the jacket, and it fit her like a second skin. The intricate details seemed to tell a story of resilience and beauty, much like the woman wearing it.

"Oh, Marcus, it's perfect," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"I'm delighted you love it, darling. Now, let's not keep the kids waiting. I have surprises for them as well," Marcus declared, leading Beatrice back to the baby room.

The kids, still engrossed in the plush haven Marcus had created for them, looked up with wide eyes as Beatrice entered, adorned in the stunning lavender jacket. Nicole, squealed in delight, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Mama pretty!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

"Now, for my tiny muses," Marcus announced, producing three miniature versions of the lavender-themed ensemble. Beatrice gasped, her heart swelling at the adorable sight. Marcus handed the tiny garments to the kids, who couldn't contain their excitement.

"Oh, Marcus, you've outdone yourself," Beatrice marveled, watching as her children eagerly tried on their matching outfits. Well,Nicole did,Gavin and Aurora were fast asleep.

She approached him, a tender smile on her lips. "Marcus, I can't thank you enough for this. The jacket, the matching outfits for the kids—it's beyond anything I could have imagined."

"Darling Bea, seeing you and the little ones happy is all the thanks I need," Marcus replied, sincerity lacing his words. "Besides you and I know that Bradley will love to see you wearing that."

She smiles more,rubbing her wedding ring, “..yeah.” she hopes he was okay.

-

Trying to find information about Mark was complicated.

But not hard.

Rooster had the basics, the bottom of a cup with the information he gathered but…it was enough to get Cyclone’s attention.

Now he had to figure out how to proceed.

Rooster sat in his office, the dim glow of the desk lamp cast shadows on the walls as he studied the limited information he had on Mark.

With a sigh, Rooster glanced at the clock. The early morning hours had a stillness to them, a quietness that neared unnerving. He decided to take a short break and stepped out onto the hallway. The fresh air hit him, a mix of ocean breeze and the lingering scent of rain.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he retrieved it to find a message from Beatrice.

Bea (13:30)

Hey, Rooster. Look what Marcus gave me! Isn’t it pretty?

Rooster couldn't help but smile at Beatrice's message. It was a welcome distraction from the weight of the ongoing investigation. He clicked on the attached image and found the picture was of herself wearing a…lavender blazer?

And he assumed the colorful blur behind her was Nicole,obviously.

Roos (13:35)

Stylish as always, Gorgeous. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the office door. McAllister appeared, stood in the doorway with a folder in hand. "Sir, got some updates on those modifications you were looking into," he said, his tone serious.

Rooster gestured for him to enter. "What did you find?"

McAllister began explaining, "The modifications on Mark's jet were more extensive than initially thought, sir. It goes beyond just upgrading communication systems. The entire avionics suite has been overhauled, with a focus on enhancing data processing speed and connectivity."

Rooster's eyebrows furrowed. "Why would Mark need such extensive modifications?“

McAllister continued, "That's not all, sir. The modifications include an experimental software patch that seems to integrate advanced tracking algorithms. It's designed to improve navigation precision and, well, tracking capabilities. I've never seen anything like it, and it's not standard Navy issue."

Rooster's mind raced as he absorbed the implications. "Tracking capabilities? That goes beyond standard avionics upgrades. What's the purpose of this? And who authorized it?"

McAllister hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "There's no official authorization on record, sir. It's all off the books. The technicians involved were instructed to keep it quiet. I managed to find one who was willing to talk anonymously. According to him, Mark was adamant about avoiding any trace of these modifications."

Rooster rubbed his temples, the weight of the situation pressing on him. "This is highly irregular, McAllister. We need to find out why Mark was implementing such significant changes without proper authorization. And what's the purpose of this advanced tracking system?"

"I agree, sir. The technician mentioned something else. He overheard Mark talking about 'keeping an eye on potential threats' during missions. It's vague, but it sounds like Mark had a specific target or concern in mind."

Rooster's mind churned with possibilities. The mention of potential threats and advanced tracking suggested a level of paranoia or a hidden agenda. "We need to dig deeper. Find out if Mark was acting alone."

McAllister nodded, understanding the delicate nature of the situation. "I'll continue the investigation, sir. See if there are any connections to external entities or if this is an isolated incident within the squadron."

As McAllister left the office, Rooster returned to studying the gathered information. The puzzle pieces were slowly coming together, revealing a picture of Mark's secretive actions and the potential ramifications for the squadron.

His phone buzzed again, and he remembered he was talking to Bea moments ago.

Rooster checked his phone to find another message from Beatrice.

Bea (14:00)

Rooster, the blazer is lavender,and has tiny lavenders on it!! Nicole insisted on showing you her fit too,so.

Rooster chuckled at the picture of Nicole barely trying how to pose and just smiling up at him appreciating the momentary escape from the intensity of his current investigation.

Roos (14:05)

Noted, Gorgeous. Lavender it is. Nicole looks great.

“Sir?”

Rooster looks up when he sees McAllister again, “Yes?”

“Vice-Admiral Simpson wants to talk,” he says, “At once.”

Rooster nodded,exhaling through his nose. "I'll be there in a moment."

As McAllister left to inform Vice-Admiral Simpson of Rooster's imminent arrival, Rooster took a deep breath, mentally preparing for the conversation that awaited him. He glanced at the clock, then to the horizon. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the naval base.

Before leaving his office, Rooster shot a quick message to Beatrice.

Roos (14:15)

Gorgeous, got called to a meeting with Cyclone. Seems urgent. Will update you ASAP. Take care, and give my love to the little ones.

With a heavy heart, Rooster left his office and made his way to Vice-Admiral Simpson's office. The corridors were filled with the usual hum of activity, but Rooster's thoughts were focused on the impending conversation. He couldn't shake the feeling that the storm within the squadron was reaching a critical juncture.

Upon reaching Cyclone’s office, Rooster knocked and entered. The vice-admiral, looked up from his desk. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, have a seat."

Rooster sat down, the tension in the room palpable. "Sir, you wanted to see me?"

Vice-Admiral Simpson leaned forward, his expression grave. "I've been briefed on your investigation into Lieutenant Mark’s unauthorized modifications. This is a serious matter, Bradshaw."

"Yes, sir. I'm working to gather all the relevant information and determine the extent of the modifications and their implications for the squadron," Rooster replied, maintaining a respectful tone.

"This situation has the potential to cast a shadow over the entire squadron. We can't afford any breaches in security or trust. Again."

"I understand the gravity of the situation, sir. I'm committed to resolving this matter thoroughly and ensuring the integrity of the squadron," Rooster affirmed.

Vice-Admiral Simpson's eyes bore into Rooster. "You have a clean record, Bradshaw, and I've seen your dedication to the Navy. But this investigation requires a swift resolution. We can't let it linger, and we can't afford any missteps. "

Rooster nodded, his jaw clenched. The weight of the responsibility pressed on him. "I'm aware, sir. I'll do everything in my power to bring this investigation to a swift and accurate conclusion."

Cyclone leaned back, his stern expression softening slightly. "I trust that you will, Lieutenant. The Navy needs officers who can handle challenges with efficiency and discretion. But…may I make a suggestion?"

“Sir?”

"I think,by now…you can toss a few crumbs for Mark to catch.”

Rooster's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at Vice-Admiral Simpson's suggestion. "Crumbs, sir?"

"Bradshaw, sometimes, in situations like these, it's strategic to let the suspect believe they have control. Give them just enough to make a move. We need to see if Mark takes the bait."

Rooster considered the vice-admiral's words. It was a delicate balance between maintaining control of the investigation and allowing the suspect to reveal their hand. "You mean...feed Mark some information, sir?"

"Exactly. Controlled information. Something that won't compromise the integrity of the investigation but might lead us to more answers," Cyclone clarified.

Rooster nodded, understanding the strategic approach. "..ohhhh."

"Use your judgment, Bradshaw. We need a resolution sooner rather than later." he smirks, “Enjoy it,Lt.”

[weneverlearn]

Aaron Lange, Peter Laughner, and the Terminal Town of Cleveland, Ohio

Cleveland-based artist, Aaron Lange, tackles his first graphic novel, Ain't It Fun -- a deep dive into the oily depths of the Rust Belt's most influential music town, it's most mythological misfit, it's oft-forgotten artistic and political streaks, and beyond...

Aaron Lange and his book, 2023 (Photo by Jake Kelly)

--------------------------------------

There’s a recurring line in Aaron Lange’s remarkable new graphic novel, Ain’t It Fun (Stone Church Press, 2023), that states, “Say the words out loud. The River isn’t real.” The river Lange was speaking of is the Cuyahoga, that infamously flammable mass of muck that dumps out into Lake Erie.

Peter Laughner (the ostensible topic of Lange’s book) was an amazing artist who probably could’ve ditched the banks of the Cuyahoga for more amenably artistic areas back in his early 1970s heyday. Aside from his frequent pilgrimages to the burgeoning NYC Lower East Side scene (where he nearly joined Television) and a quickly ditched attempt to live in California though, he mostly stuck around northeast Ohio.

While desperately trying to find his sound and a workable band, Laughner smelted a post-hippie, pre-punk amoebic folk rock, and formed the influential embryonic punk band, Rocket from the Tombs, which later morphed into Pere Ubu. All of which – lumped up with other rust-belted oddballs like electric eels, Mirrors, DEVO, the Numbers Band, Chi-Pig, Tin Huey, Rubber City Rebels, and more – essentially helped formed the “proto-punk” template.

Laughner was also a rock writer of some regional renown, and contributed numerous amphetamine-fueled articles to regional mags like The Scene and Creem -- mostly concerning where Rock'n'Roll was going, colored as he was by the Velvet Underground, the Stooges, David Bowie, and Roxy Music playing in Cleveland a bunch of times around his formative years.

Sadly, in June 1977, Laughner died of acute pancreatitis at age 24. Aside from the first two seminal Pere Ubu 7-inch singles, the rest of Laughner’s recorded output was just one very limited self-released EP and, posthumously, a great double-LP comp of demo and live tracks, Take the Guitar Player for a Ride (1993, Tim Kerr Records). A surprisingly large batch of unreleased lost demos, radio shows, and live tapes appeared on the beautiful and essential box set, Peter Laughner (Smog Veil Records, 2019), that brought Laughner’s legend just a few blocks outside of Fringeville, as it received universally great reviews….

The Dead Boys became the most well-known act of that mid-70s Cleveland scene, though that only happened once they high-tailed it to NYC. Aside from DEVO, Chrissie Hynde, and the Waitresses (all of whom did their own versions of high-tailing it), nearly every other act in that fertile Cle-Akron proto-punk vortex soon dissipated, eventually getting the cult treatment at best.

Cleveland is indeed right there with NYC and London as punk ground zero, but Americans tend to equate buyable products as proof of import, so shockingly, the Pagans and The Styrenes just aren’t the household name they should be.

Decades of tape-trading stories, sub-indie label limited releases, and fanzine debates kept the mythology of those acts barely breathing underneath the end of the milennium’s increasingly loud R'n'R death knell. And as that mythology slowly grew, the fans and even the musicians of the scene itself still wonder what it all meant.     

Which, as you dig deeper into Ain’t It Fun, becomes the theme not just about the legendary rocker ghost of Peter Laughner, but of Cleveland itself. Ala Greil Marcus’ classic “hidden history” tome, Lipstick Traces, Lange interweaves Laughner’s self-immolating attempts at Beatnik-art-punk transcendence with a very detailed history of Cleveland, with its insane anti-legends and foot-shooting civic development.

Like much of the dank, rusted, and mysterious edges of the one-time “Sixth City,” the Cuyahoga has been cleaned up since, though I still wouldn’t suggest slurping up a swallow if you’re hanging on the banks of the Flats. I grew up in Cleveland and visit as often as I can because it’s an awesome place, no matter what they tell you. Or maybe, because of what they tell you.

If you are keen to swim down through the muck and mire of Cleveland’s charms, you don’t just get used to it, you like it. As for the “Cleveland” that the City Fathers have always tried so vainly to hype, us hopelessly romantic proto-punk fanatics say to those who would erase Cleveland’s fucked-up past and replace it with that weird fake greenspace underneath the Terminal Tower: “The City isn’t real.”

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Give us a quick bio.

Born in Cleveland, 1981. We moved to the west side suburbs when I was six. My parents didn’t listen to much music, and I don’t have older siblings. So I didn’t really listen to music at all until I was in high school, and I didn’t listen to any of the grunge or ‘90s stuff that was popular. I got real into the Beatles when I was in ninth grade, and at some point I got the Velvet Underground’s first album from the library because I saw Andy Warhol’s name on the cover. I didn’t know anything about them, so that was a real shock. I probably first heard Iggy Pop via the Trainspotting soundtrack, and pretty soon after I started getting into punk and generally more obscure stuff. Now I listen to more electronic stuff, ambient stuff. I also like most anything that falls under the broad “post-punk” umbrella. I really hate “rama-lama ding-dong” rock and roll.

What came first – music or drawing interest?

Drawing. I was always drawing… I’ve been a semi-regular contributor to Mineshaft for many years, which is a small zine/journal that features a lot of underground comix related stuff, but also has a beatnik vibe and includes poetry and writing. I’ve done the odd thing here and there for other zines, but I don’t really fit in anywhere.

Don’t really fit it – I feel that phrase describes a lot of the best / more influential Ohio musicians / bands. Did you feel that kind of feeling about Peter as you researched and wrote the book?

Peter was well liked, and he knew a vast array of people. If anything, he fit in in too many situations. He was spread thin.

When you lived in Philly, did you get a sense of any kind of similar proto-punk scene / era in that town? I sometimes, perhaps jingoistically, think this particular kind of music is almost exclusively confined to the Rust Belt.

I lived in Philly for nearly 11 years. As far as the old scene there, they had Pure Hell. But back then, anybody who really wanted to do something like that would just move to NYC.

So, is there a moment in time that started you on a path towards wanting to dig into Cleveland’s proto-punk past like this?

It was just something I had a vague interest in, going back to when I first heard Pere Ubu. And then later learning about the electric eels, and starting to get a feeling that Cleveland had a lot more to offer than just the Dead Boys. The Rocket from the Tombs reunion got things going, and that’s when I first started to hear Laughner’s name. A few years later, a friend sent me a burned CD of the Take the Guitar Player for a Ride collection, and I started to get more interested in Peter specifically.

Despite any first wave punk fan’s excitement about a Laughner bio, this book is moreso a history of Cleveland, and trying to connect those odd underground, counterculture, or mythological connections that the Chamber of Commerce tends to ignor as the town’s import. Was there a moment where you realized this book needed to go a little wider than only telling the tales of Laughner and the bands of that era? (Not that there’s anything wrong with that!)

Very early on I realized that none of this would make sense or have any true meaning without the appropriate context. The activities of the early Cle punk scene need to be viewed in relation to what was going on in the city. I think this is just as true with NYC or London – these were very specific contexts, all tangled up in politics, crime, rent, television, and also the specifics of the more hippie-ish local countercultures that preceded each region. You’ve got Bowie and Warhol and all that, but in Cleveland you’ve also got Ghoulardi and d.a. levy. Mix that up with deindustrialization and a picture starts to form.

So when did you decide on doing this book? You’ve mentioned this was your first attempt at doing a full graphic novel – and boy, you went epic on it!

I did a short version of Peter’s story back when I was living in Philadelphia. But upon completing that version – which I now think of as a sketch – it became clear that there was a lot more to say and to investigate. I spent about a year just thinking about it, forming contacts with some people, and tracking down various reference materials like records, zines, books, etc. Then my wife got a new job at Cleveland State University, so we left Philly. Once I landed back in Cleveland I started working on the book in earnest.

Page from Ain't It Fun -- all book images courtesy of the author.

By any chance was Greil Marcus’ book, Lipstick Traces (1989), an inspiration, as far as the “hidden history” factor, the trying to connect seemingly unconnected and lost historical footnotes into a path towards the culture’s future?

Yes. I read Lipstick Traces when I was around 19 or 20, and I’d never seen anything like it before. It really blew my mind, all the stuff about the Situationists and Dadaists and all that. Later on, I read Nick Tosches’ Dean Martin biography, Dino, and that was another mind blower. Another major influence is Iain Sinclair.

Ah Dino, another Ohio native. So, Laughner’s one-time partner, Charlotte Pressler’s book is mentioned, and I’ve seen it referenced and talked about for years – any inside word on if/when she might have that published?

Charlotte never wrote a book, though she did co-edit a book that collected the work of local poets. As far as her own writing, she’s done all manner of essays and poetry, and probably some academic writing that I’m not familiar with. As far as her completing “Those Were Different Times”— which was intended as a total of three essays— I’ve got some thoughts on that, but it’s not really my place to comment on it.

Pressler sounds like a very serious person in your book, as you say, she was kind of older than her years. But how was she to talk to?

Charlotte is serious, but she’s not dour. She’s got a sense of humor and she’s very curious about the world, always looking to learn new things. She’s an intellectual, and has a wide array of interests. We get along, we’re friends.

The fact that the town’s namesake, Moses Cleveland, left soon after his “discovery” and never came back – that’s like a template for how people envision a town like Cleveland: nice place to grow up, but you want to get out as soon as you’re legal. Even the musicians of the area might’ve agreed with that sentiment, even if many never left.  Do you think that has changed?

I’m glad I left Cleveland, but I’m also glad I came back. First off, my family is here. Second, the cost of living is still reasonable. I don’t know how people live in New York. I never have any money. I’d make more money if I had a full-time job at McDonald’s. That’s not a joke, or me being self-deprecating. How do artists live in New York? How do they afford rent and 20 dollar packs of cigarettes? I’m just totally confused by the basic mechanics of this. So yeah, I’m in Cleveland. It’s not great, but what are my options? I can’t just go to Paris and fuck around like a bohemian. I would if I could.

In Ain't It Fun, you reveal that one of the seminal Cleveland scene dives, Pirate's Cove, was once a Rockerfeller warehouse  – these kind of enlightening, almost comically perfect metaphors pop up every few pages. Not unlike the mythology that can sometimes arise in musician fandom, I wonder if these are metaphors we can mine, or just an obvious facts that the town drifted down from a center of industry to relative poverty.

“Metaphor” might be at too much of a remove. These facts, these landmarks — they create a complex of semiotics, a map, a framework. The city talks through its symbols and its landscape. If you submit to it and listen, it will tell you secrets. There is nothing metaphorical about this.

Is it a sign of privilege to look on destitution as inspiration? I’m guessing the sick drunks at Pirate’s Cove in 1975 weren’t thinking they were living in a rusty Paris of the ‘30s. Though I will say a thing I really loved about your book was that, for all its yearning and historical weaving, you still stick to facts and don’t seem to over-mythologize or put any gauze on the smog, like “Isn’t that so cool, man.” You capture the quiet and damp desperation of that era and Laughner’s milieu.

Poverty, decline, decay, entropy – these things are real. By aestheticizing them we are able to gain some control over them. And once you have control, you have the power to change things. This is not “slumming.” “Privilege” has nothing to do with it.

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Do you know why the Terminal Tower (once the second tallest building in the world when it opened in 1928) was named that? It seems somewhat fatalistic, given the usual futurist positivism of the deco design era.

Terminal as in train terminal. It really pisses me off that there was once a time where you could go there and catch a train to Chicago or New York. It’s infuriating how this country dismantled its rail systems. And the Terminal Tower isn’t deco, but I think it is often confused with that style just by virtue of not being a gigantic rectangle. In that sense it does have more in common with a deco structure like the Chrysler building. Honestly, if you are looking for deco you might find more notable examples in Akron than you would Cleveland.

I notice a kind of – and bear with my lesser abilities to describe illustrative art – swirly style in your work that kind of aligns with art deco curves, maybe some Gustav Klimt…? In general, who were some illustrative inspirations for you early on?

That “swirly” style you describe is art nouveau. Deco came after that, and is more angular and clean. Additionally, a lot of underground comix guys were also poster artists, and there was often a nouveau influence in that psychedelic work – so there’s a bit of a thread there. As far as Klimt, I came to him kinda late, but I love him now.

The music of many northeast Ohio bands of that era has been generally tagged as “industrial” (the pre-dance industrial style, of course), cranky like the machinery of the sputtering factories in the Flats, etc… My guess is maybe the musicians were already finding used R'n'R instruments in thrift stores by that time, which would add a kind of layer of revision, turning old things into new sounds. Did you hear about of any of that? Or were there enough music stores around town? I know DEVO was already taking used instruments and refitting them; or electric eels using sheet metal and such to bang on…

I’m not a musician, so I don’t know anything about gear or stuff like that. I do know that Allen Ravenstine made field recordings in the Flats, and utilized them via his synthesizer. Frankly, I wish more of the Northeast Ohio bands had taken cues from Ubu and early Devo, because an “industrial” subculture definitely could have formed, like it did in England and San Francisco. But that never really happened here.

That kind of music was pretty popular on college radio and in a few clubs in Cleveland, though not many original bands with that sound arrived, aside from Nine Inch Nails who quickly took his act elsewhere… So in the book you mention local newsman, Dick Fealger. My memories of him are as a curmudgeon whose shtick was getting a little old by the time I was seeing him on the news, or his later opinion columns. Kinda your classic “Hey you kids, get off my lawn” style. You rightly paint him as a somewhat prescient reporter of the odd in his earlier days, though. I once had to go to a friend’s mother’s funeral, and in the next room in the funeral home was Dick Feagler’s funeral. I always regret not sneaking over and taking a peak into it to see who was there.

I like Feagler in the same way that I liked Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes. These were people that my grandparents liked. So I suppose my appreciation for Feagler is half nostalgia, half irony. I like cranks, grumps, letter-writers, street prophets. I like black coffee, donuts, diners, and blue plate specials – that’s Feagler’s world, the old newspaper world. Get up at 6 am and put your pants on, that kinda thing.

Yeah, I still found Feagler kinda funny, but like Jane Scott, while respect was always there, by the later ‘80s/’90s, both were set into almost caricatures  who were kind of resting on their laurels. 

Yeah, I remember seeing Jane at some random Grog Shop show back in the ‘90s, and I was kinda impressed. But no, she was never really cool. Jane was pure Cleveland, her career couldn't have happened anywhere else.

I remember seeing her sit right next to a huge house amp at the old Variety Theater for the entire duration of a Dead Kennedys show, taking notes for her review. Pretty impressive given her age at that point.

You also make a point of carving out an important space for The Damnation of Adam Blessing, a band that seems to get forgotten when discussing Cleveland’s pre-punk band gaggle. I find that interesting because in a way, they are the template for the way many Ohio bands don’t fit into any exact genre, and so often people don’t “get” them, or they’re forgotten later.

Damnation worked as a good local example for that whole psychedelic thing. They were very ‘60s. While the James Gang on the other hand, was more ‘70s— the cracks were starting to show with the ‘70s bands, they were harder and less utopian. Damnation feels more “Woodstock,” so they were useful to me in that regard.

I must add – for years I thought it was pronounced Laugh-ner, as in to laugh, ha ha, not knowing the Gaelic roots. Once I learned I was pronouncing it wrong, I still wanted to pronounce it like laughing, as it seemed to fit so darkly correct with how his life went, and Cleveland musicians’ love of bad puns and cheap comedians and such… Of course when I learned that it was an “ethnic” name, it made it that much more Cleveland.

Yeah, everybody says his name wrong. I used to too, and had to really force myself to start saying it as Lochner. But everybody says Pere Ubu wrong as well – it’s Pear Ubu.

I hate any desecration of any artwork, but I always loved the blowing up The Thinker statue story, as it seemed such a powerful metaphor of the strength of art, and Cleveland itself – the fact that The Thinker himself still sits there, right on top of the sliced-up and sweeping shards from the blast. It’s still there, right? And isn’t it true that there are like three more “official” Thinker statues in the world?

Yeah, I don’t condone what happened, but it is kinda cool. As a kid, the mutilated Thinker had a strong effect on me — I couldn’t have put it into words at the time, but I think it gave me a sense of the weight of history. It’s almost like a post-war artifact in Europe, something that is scarred. And yes, it’s still there outside the museum. And it’s a cast. I think there might be five official ones, but I’d have to look that up. If you are ever in Philadelphia, swing by the Rodin museum and check out The Gates of Hell.

I have only become a bigger fan of Laughner’s as the years pass. But there is something to the critique that perhaps he never really found his singular sound; that he was copping bits from Lou Reed and Dylan, and couldn’t keep a band together to save his life. And there was supposedly a feeling among some in the NYC scene that he was a bit of a carpetbagger.

Everybody has their influences, so Peter wasn’t in any way unique in that sense. I know he has a reputation for doing a lot of cover songs — which is true — but he also wrote a lot of originals, and there are some damn good ones which are still unreleased. “Under the Volcano” is just one such unheard song which I mention in my book, but there are others. As far as finding his own singular sound, he probably came closest to that with Friction. That group borrowed heavily from Television and Richard Hell, but also drew upon Richard Thompson and Fairport Convention. And when you think about it, those were really unlikely influences to juxtapose, and it created something original. Frustratingly though, Friction never achieved their full potential, as Peter was already losing it.

Yeah, Friction is kind of way up there with the “What if” bands… It’s interesting that for all his legend as a proto-punk figure, perhaps Laughner’s signature songs – Sylvia Plath” and “Baudelaire” – were gorgeous acoustic numbers. Though of course those early Pere Ubu songs were proto-punk and post-punk templates, somehow...

I honestly don’t know what happened with Ubu, as it is pretty distinct from Peter’s other work. Thomas isn’t really a musician, so we can only give him so much credit with how that sound developed. I honestly don’t know. There just must have been some sort of alchemy between the various players, and Thomas understood it and was able to encourage and guide it in the projects that followed over the years.

Page from Ain't It Fun

You also didn’t really detail Pere Ubu’s initial breakup – was there just not much to say?

Yeah, I think I mentioned it, but no, I didn’t really get into it. Pere Ubu is kind of a story unto themselves. But it might be worth mentioning here that Home and Garden was an interesting project that came out of that Ubu breakup. And Thomas also did some solo albums, but I’m not as familiar with those.

Yeah, I saw Home and Garden a few times way back, good stuff. You’ve mentioned to me that there were some people that didn’t want to talk to you for the book; and that people were very protective of Peter’s legacy and/or their friendship with him. To what do you attribute that?

It has everything to do with Peter’s early death. Some people are very protective of how Peter is remembered. And I think some people weren’t exposed to Peter’s dark side, so when they hear those descriptions of him it strikes them as untrue. I think Peter showed different sides of himself to different people.

I kind of felt as I was reading that you might say more about Harvey Pekar, as not only is he an interesting figure, but the most famous graphic novelist from Ohio, and I assume an inspiration of your’s.

Pekar’s great. Especially the magazine-size issues he was doing in the late ‘70s up through the ‘80s. It was important to me to include him in the book. But Pekar was a jazz guy, and that’s a whole other story, a whole other tangled web.

So, Balloonfest! Hilarious. I almost forgot about that. But I do remember Ted Stepien owning the short-lived Cleveland professional softball team; and for a promotion, they dropped softballs off the Terminal Tower, and if you caught one you won $1,000 or something. Do you recall that? It’s one of my favorite fucked-up Cleveland stories. Balls smashed car roofs, and cops immediately told people to run away.

Yeah, I’m aware of that baseball stunt. I generally try and stay away from anything even remotely related to professional sports teams — it gets talked about more than enough elsewhere. Oddly, I am interested in athletes who work alone, like Olympic skiers. I’m attracted to that solitary focus, where the athlete isn’t competing against other teams or players, but more competing with the limits of the human body, competing with what the physical world will allow and permit, that whole Herzog trip. I’m also interested in the Olympic Village, as this artificial space that mutates and moves across time and across continents.

As far as Balloonfest, I still watch that footage all the time. I use it as a meditation device. I’ll put it on along with Metal Machine Music and go into a trance.

A few years ago, as I am sure you are well aware, noted British punk historian Jon Savage put together a Soul Jazz Records comp of Cleveland proto-punk called Extermination Nights in the Sixth City. I grew up in Cleveland, lived in Columbus for awhile, and I never heard it called “the Sixth City.” Have you? If so, what does it refer to?

Nobody calls it that anymore. It’s an old nickname back from when Cleveland was literally the sixth largest city in the country.

I’d guess Ain’t It Fun was a tiring feat to accomplish. But do you have another book in the works? And if someone wanted to option Peter’s story for a movie, would you sign on? I personally dread rock biopics. They’re almost universally bad.

Yeah, I’ve got an idea for another book, but it’s too early to talk about that. As far as biopics, they are almost always bad, rock or otherwise. Rock documentaries are often pretty lousy too. A recent and major exception would be Todd Haynes’ Velvet Underground documentary, which is just goddamn brilliant. A film about Peter in that vein would be great— but there’s just no footage to work from. He didn’t have Warhol or Factory people following him around with a camera. So unless somebody like Jim Jarmusch comes calling, I won’t be signing off on movie rights any time soon.

Unless there is more you’d like to say, thanks, and good luck with the book and future ventures!

Stone Church Press has a lot of projects planned for 2024 and beyond, and I encourage anyone reading this to support small publishers. There is a lot of very exciting stuff going on, but you have to work a little to find it. Amazon, algorithms, big corporate publishers — they’re like this endless blanket of concrete that smothers and suffocates. But flowers have a way of popping up between the cracks.

Aaron Lange, 2023 (Photo by Jake Kelly)

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🖍️GUEST SPOTLIGHT🖍️  

Marcus Ramirez and Jaime Stone, a creative duo, join us as guest artists. We are thrilled to have the talented creators of Dee's World featured in the zine!