#Roman and his brother being Romulus and Remus

[moonfurthetemmie]

It a 'series' about a youtuber -Thomas Sanders- and how he goes through emotional things

Like lying, his anxiety, and his passion for theater..

He decided to give characters to some of the emotions he thinks is most important and give them names, to help the veiwers also get the situations, by applying them to actual people not just emotions.

Soo....

Patton - morality

Logan - logic

Roman - creativity

Remus - intrusive thoughts

(Fun fact, Remus and Roman are brothers, as in 'good' creativity (Roman) and 'bad' creativity (Remus))

Janus - deceit (aka lying)

Virgil - anxiety

Those six make up the 'main' cast, split up into good and bad, good: Roman, Logan, and Patton and bad: Remus, Janus, and Virgil

In the beginning, however, he is trying to show how you can get 'along' with your anxiety and Virgil then 'transfers' onto the 'good' side.

While some side characters also make an appearance

Remy - sleep (he shows up in some of Thomas' vines)

Emile - ??? (HE shows up for i think one video and its about therapy and his main thing is cartoons)

By having all the 'emotions' have actual faces it puts into perspective what's actually happening is thomas' brain instead of him trying to explain it.

The characters got so popular that eventually he started to branch out from the normal emotional dealing videos and expanded more on the characters as actual people and not just as extensions of himself.

hm. the more you say the more this does look like a sanders sides OC

While none of the headmates are meant to be emotions, they do reflect some aspects of myself (and thus, the system's host).

Delta's very afraid of losing people, and craves affection. it's turned up to a 20 from what's up with the real Moon, tho. she also has the social confidence I aspire to have (and have never achieved GHFDJKSGHFDJ)

Lizzie's sort of the personified 'inner child'; she's not actually a child, but she gives just as few fucks as I did when I was a kid. She does what she wants, damn what anyone else thinks. She doesn't care if something will be embarrassing (with a few exceptions) if she thinks it'll be fun.

Jennifer is the fascination with horror and is the only one in the system who can actually handle horror movies and shit.

listen. I know I have three horror AUs (and. a fourth hidden away), but i'm a huge wuss. Actually interacting with original horror freaks me the FUCK out. I like watching Markiplier and Jacksepticeye play horror games, but sometimes i nope out and never come back. and there's an extra degree of separation there between me and the scary stuff!!!!

I'm also not dividing the headmates into 'good' and 'bad', because when it's a system...

I don't want to fall into the negative stereotypes that DID and other similar disorders have. I'm friends with a few systems, and I've seen some headmates cause serious problems. It's not a party in the USA (reference) 24/7, but I don't know how I, a singlet, could do something like that in fiction without it being. uhhh. in poor taste, to put it mildly. And I'm not ready to try

[onyxstyx]

ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room.  “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.” 

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced. 

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words. 

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued. 

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.” 

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you. 

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second,  you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like. 

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed. 

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow. 

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.  

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin. 

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you. 

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult. 

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile. 

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.” 

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…” 

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak. 

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze. 

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention. 

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

 “Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla. 

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor. 

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo. 

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room. 

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned. 

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable. 

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face. 

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”  

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours. 

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup. 

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.” 

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

© onyxstyx tumblr 2025

[deepred00]

NAME IMPORTANCE IN SANDERS SIDES

Guysssss, I just realised something and it might have already been talked about but I couldn't find anything so I'm writing it now. So, we all know about the name reveals in Sanders Sides, their meanings and their importance, but I was casually watching through the series again when in Selfishness VS Selflessness I realised something that I have been noticing before but not knowing why. The moment Deceit, Janus, talks to Anxiety, Virgil, and brings up Virgil's reluctance to share his name. And that scene has always stood out to me in someway but now I finally realised why. Because Janus lied. It's not something new, he's literally Deceit, BUT it's what he's lying about that is important.

Janus: "Oh, so you've never been reluctant to share anything with the group then?"

Virgil: "Don't"

Janus: "What? I just meant your name"

Virgil: "DON'T!"

JANUS IS LYING YET BEING TRUTHFUL ABOUT HIS RESPONSE!!! THAT'S THE BEST WAY TO LIE, TO ALSO BE TRUTHFUL!

We may think, even assume, that Janus is talking about Virgil not telling his name to Thomas for a long time before finally revealing his name to be Virgil. BUT Virgil's reaction is too emotional, too strong, too desperate to be only about that. It's more like he's pleading Janus not to reveal something. And it would be ignorant not to include the fact that there's A LOT of theories about when Virgil was a "dark side" he was not Anxiety but Paranoia.

And now to the point I wanted to talk about. Names, their meanings and their importance. So let me list their names in chronological order they were revealed so you can see them clearly.

Logan

Roman

Patton

Virgil

Remus

Janus

And of course the orange side we do not know of yet. But look closely at the list of names. And do you remember what Patton said when Virgil revealed his name? "Huh, but that doesn't end with a -N"

And now look at the "dark sides" and their names. They end with -US. Do you see the the name that doesn't really fit in?

VIRGIL

AND I BELIEVE THAT IS BECAUSE IT'S NOT HIS "REAL" OR "TRUE" NAME BUT CHOSEN NAME!! Virgil means protector, that is what Virgil want to be for Thomas! Virgil doesn't want to be Paranoia, he doesn't want to be the bad guy. HE WANTS TO BE A PROTECTOR! And that is why he chose that name!

AND THAT'S NOT ALL!

Let's look at the name etymology here too!!

For the "Good sides" their names correspond with Aristotle's ingredients for persuasion, albeit Roman's name is not visibly linked to its correspondence like the others.

Logan - Logos

Roman - Ethos (Roman being the side with charm and scene presence)

Patton - Pathos

And now for the "Dark sides" we know of. Their names are derived from roman mythology.

Remus - Twin brother of Romulus, the founder of Rome which corresponds Remus being Roman's twin, since Roman's name is basically taken from the ROMAN EMPIRE as well as Romance and all. Plus it also places great significance that Remus is only an offshot of Roman, without Roman, Remus would not exist and therefore his name corresponds to "the twin brother of the great mythological founder of ROME"

Janus - God of doorways, duality, gates, passages, beginnings and endings, always depicted as two-faced. Two-faced=Deceitful

AND WHAT ABOUT VIRGIL'S NAME? DOES HIS NAME FIT INTO THESE CATEGORIES? NO! VIRGIL IS NOT FROM ROMAN MYTHOLOGY NOR ARISTOTLE'S PERSUASION! IT'S A SIMPLE ROMAN NAME, THE MOST WE CAN FIND IS THAT AN ANCIENT ROMAN POET HAD THE NAME VIRGIL. WHICH IN ALL HONESTY FITS ROMAN SANDERS MORE THAN VIRGIL. AND I BELIEVE IT'S BECAUSE DESPITE EVERYTHING VIRGIL WANTS TO KINDA BE LIKE ROMAN TO THOMAS, HIS HERO. ROMAN IS THOMAS' HERO AND VIRGIL WANTS TO BE THOMAS' PROTECTOR, HIS HERO!

SO IN CONCLUSION... I think Virgil's name is not the name he had before or his "true" name. It is his chosen name and that is what he wants to be. That's why it's different from the other sides' names. That's why Virgil has been so sensitive when Janus brought up his name and why Virgil has been sensitive about being called paranoid. Because that's basically someone he has been and not someone he wants to be. It's almost like being called by his dead-name. And this just makes me want to hug Virgil even more, feed him spider-shaped cookies, give him some calming tea and just.. be there

[sentientgolfball]

SPOILERS FOR THE GHOOVIE UNDER THE CUT BE CAUTIOUS

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK TOBIAS WHEN I GET YOU

-holy shit oh my god I fucking called it I said it months ago I knew Imperator was gonna die she was literally on the mummy dust for reimperatour

-RAIN SPOKE RAINY BABY RAIN SAID WORDS HE TALKED RAAAAIIIIN. Genuinely I haven’t shut up about this since seeing the movie and he literally said 6 words and they like weren’t even important I don’t care RAINY BABY SPOKE

-FRATER IMPERATOR?? HELLO??

-The use of the Romulus and Remus statue when showing Copia having a twin is making me insane. For yall who don’t know Romulus built the Roman Empire after killing his brother Remus after he mocked him and his new city. I just…think that’s interesting

-RAINY BABY

-I need to see the new bitch immediately Tobias let me see HIM

-Nihil actually being a decent father was nice

-SHOW ME HIS TWIN also does that mean he’d look like Cardinal…? Cause Papa Copia got plastic surgery 👁️👁️

[lindalearcenter]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ROME! These coins show two foundational Roman myths.

On the first, Aeneas, alleged ancestor of Julius Caesar and founder of Rome, carries his father, Anchises, out of a burning Troy. The front shows the head of the goddess Venus, Aeneas's mother.

The second portrays the shepherd Faustulus with the twin brothers Romulus and Remus being nursed by the she-wolf. The front portrays Roma, the deity and personification of Rome.

All coins from the Elizabeth C. Evans Coin Collection at Connecticut College.

[blueiscoool]

Ancient Roman Silver Brooch of Romulus and Remus Found in Spain

The Department of Culture of the Generalitat Valenciana has recently announced the discovery of a rare silver brooch, depicting the iconic scene of Romulus and Remus being suckled by a she-wolf.

This remarkable artifact was discovered during excavations at Vilanova d’Alcolea, a site in Spain believed to have served as an ancient postal building during the Roman era. Archaeologists, led by Josep Carbó, made the discovery, describing it as an exceptional piece both for its rarity and quality.

Romulus and Remus, pivotal figures in Roman mythology, were twin brothers whose legendary tale forms the foundation myth of Rome and the Roman Kingdom. Born in Alba Longa to Rhea Silvia, the twins were the grandsons of the deposed King Numitor. Threatened by their potential claim to power, King Amulius, Numitor’s brother, ordered the infants to be abandoned on the banks of the Tiber River.

Legend has it that the twins were saved by a she-wolf who nursed them in a cave known as Lupercal, situated at the southwestern foot of the Palatine Hill in Rome. Upon discovering their true heritage, Romulus and Remus avenged their family and reinstated their grandfather, Numitor, as the rightful king. However, their story took a tragic turn when a dispute arose between the brothers, leading to Romulus committing fratricide against Remus. Romulus then went on to establish the city of Rome, solidifying his position as its first ruler.

The silver brooch, measuring 4 centimeters in size and dating back to the 2nd century CE, portrays the iconic scene of the she-wolf nurturing the twins in their infancy. This depiction has become synonymous with the founding of Rome since the 3rd century BCE.

The archaeological site where the brooch was discovered holds additional significance. Situated near the Via Augusta, the longest Roman road in Roman Hispania, the site is believed to have been an official post of the Roman Empire, catering to officials and travelers alike. The proximity to this historic route enhances the importance of the find.

Archaeologist, Josep Carbó, emphasized the significance of the discovery, stating, “It is an exceptional piece due to its rarity and quality since there are very few pieces of this type that have been studied.”

By Dario Radley.

[anotheroceanid]

One thing that possibly still happened but with changes is that while Rome was being built Romulus tried to kill Remus, Perse raised these two, but Romulus just decided to stab his brother because he wanted to name the city differently than him, Perse probably manage to save Remus but now she is pissed with Romulus, just full on yelling and then disappointment, Romulus better do something to fix this or he is grounded, "Don't care that you're a grown man, if you act like a child I'm treating like one!"

Romans having to hide every story in which Perse dragged the both of them and grounded them, otherwise their founders would be forever remembered as whiny mama’s boys 🤣

[guujikaroko]

Castorice is a very interesting character, in light of her thematic inspirations.

See, her name comes from Castor, one of the Dioscuri, the Greek Divine Twins. The Divine Twins are a motif present throughout countless religions across time and space. Some examples are the Aztec Quetzalcoatl and his psychopomp (a.k.a guide of the dead) brother Xolotl, the Hindu Yama (the king of hell) and his twin Yami, the Roman founder Romulus and his sibling Remus.

Peeped the common denominator there? A common element across a Divine Twins story is the death, physical or symbolic, of one of the twins. Xolotl is a god who resides in Mictlan, the Aztec underworld. Yama was the first human to die and therefore became king of the dead. Romulus killed Remus and founded Rome after.

The Greek Dioscuri are no different. In their story, despite being of divine origin, only one twin was effectively immortal: Pollux. Castor died, which led his brother to beg Zeus to share his immortality with him. Zeus agreed and transformed the twins into a constellation, that being the Gemini of the Zodiac.

Which makes Castorice's whole thing veeeeeery interesting, especially considering she claimed Thanatos the Death Titan to be "her other half". Throw her ability to understand Titans in and wow, are Castorice and Thanatos twins? Is Castorice a Titan herself? I know I just said Castor was the one who died, but Castor was a man in the first place, so Hoyoverse could just mix things a little there.

[whencyclopedia]

Romulus and Remus

In Roman mythology, Romulus and his twin brother Remus were the founders of the city of Rome. They were the children of Rhea Silvia and Mars (or in some variations the demi-god hero Hercules) and their story is recorded by many authors including Virgil who claims their birth and adventures were fated in order for Rome to be founded.

The Birth & Parentage of Romulus & Remus

Romulus and Remus were the direct descendants of Aeneas, whose fate-driven adventures to discover Italy are described by Virgil in The Aeneid. Romulus and Remus were related to Aeneas through their mother's father, Numitor. Numitor was a king of Alba Longa, an ancient city of Latium in central Italy, and father to Rhea Silvia. Before Romulus' and Remus' conception, Numitor's reign was usurped by Numitor's younger brother, Amulius. Amulius inherited control over Alba Longa's treasury with which he was able to dethrone Numitor and become king. Amulius, wishing to avoid any conflict of power, killed Numitor's male heirs and forced Rhea Silvia to become a Vestal Virgin. Vestal Virgins were priestesses of Vesta, patron goddess of the hearth; they were charged with keeping a sacred fire that was never to be extinguished and to take vows of chastity.

There is much debate and variation as to who was the father of Romulus and Remus. Some myths claim that Mars appeared and lay with Rhea Silvia; other myths attest that the demi-god hero Hercules was her partner. However, the author Livy claims that Rhea Silvia was in fact raped by an unknown man, but blamed her pregnancy on divine conception. In either case, Rhea Silvia was discovered to be pregnant and gave birth to her sons. It was custom that any Vestal Virgin betraying her vows of celibacy was condemned to death; the most common death sentence was to be buried alive. However, King Amulius, fearing the wrath of the paternal god (Mars or Hercules) did not wish to directly stain his hands with the mother's and children's blood. So, King Amulius imprisoned Rhea Silvia and ordered the twins' death by means of live burial, exposure, or being thrown into the Tiber River. He reasoned that if the twins were to die not by the sword but by the elements, he and his city would be saved from punishment by the gods. He ordered a servant to carry out the death sentence, but in every scenario of this myth, the servant takes pity on the twins and spares their lives. The servant, then, places the twins into a basket and onto the River Tiber; the river carries the boys to safety.

Continue reading...

[ancientcharm]

When the Greeks sacked Troy, Aeneas retreated to Mount Ida, carrying his father Anchises on his shoulders and carrying his son Ascanius. His wife Creusa died in flight. He reigned for a time in Ida, then undertook a long voyage across the Mediterranean.

This Trojan hero went through several adventures in which different deities participated including his mother, Venus (Afrodita) . After his father's death in Sicily, a storm blew him astray and washed him onto the shores of Carthage.

Aeneas tells Dido the misfortunes of the Trojan city. Oil on canvas by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin (1815) Louvre, Paris.

With the intervention of the goddess Venus, queen Dido of Carthage fell in love with Aeneas and wanted them to marry, uniting their lineages. But Jupiter opposed it and sent Mercury to warn him that he must continue his journey and fulfill his destiny.

Dido, outraged at being abandoned , cast a curse declaring that her people and the people descended from Aeneas would be enemies. After this, she stabbing herself with a sword on a pyre.

Death of Dido. Oil on canvas by Guercino (1631)

Back in Sicily, Aeneas celebrated great funeral games in memory of his father, who appeared to him to tell him that he must go to Cumae and descend into the underworld. In Cumae, Aeneas succeeded in having the Sibyl open the gates of Hades for him.

There he met the shadow of Dido, but he also saw his father, who in the Elysian Fields revealed to him the glorious destiny of the people he was to found in Italy.

Aeneas and the Cumaean Sibyl. Oil on canvas by François Perrier (1646)

He reached the mouth of the Tiber and finally entered a city called Pallantium on the Palatine Hill. There, after going through several epic situations, he married Lavinia, only daughter of Latinus, king of the Latins, and founded the city of Lavinium, named after his wife.

Aeneas disappeared in the middle of a storm and was taken to Olympus and crowned by his mother Venus. His eldest son Lullius, from whom the Julii descend, founded Alba Longa the hometown of Romulus and Remus.

According to Livy, Lullius is the son of Aeneas and Lavinia, and seems to distinguish him from Ascanius son of Aeneas and Creusa. Silvius, son of Lullius, succeeded him on the throne of Alba Longa. Dionysius of Halicarnassus is the one who says that Silvius was the son of Aeneas and Lavinia, and therefore half-brother of Lulilus (Ascanius)

Years later, Numitor, maternal grandfather of Romulus and Remus and direct descendant of Silvius would be king of Alba Longa

Roman bas-relief, 2nd century: Aeneas lands in Latium leading his son Lullius (Ascanius); the sow identifies the place to found his city : Alba Longa

Over time, coming into contact with civilizations in the Eastern Mediterranean, the Romans realized that while everyone else had legends of heroes, epic wars, and several divinities interacting with humans at each event, they only had Mars in their founding story; twins thrown into a river, suckled by a wolf in a cave, adopted by a humble shepherd. And one of the twins ends up dying in a fight with the other.

Romulus and Remus, suckled by the wolf, found by Faustulus on banks of Tiber. Fresco by Giuseppe Cesari (1568-1640)

Augustus commissioned the great Roman poet Virgil to create a epic worthy of Rome, but without annulling its legendary founding history.

Through the Aeneid, Rome acquired a prestigious past; a mystical explanation of the three Punic Wars and the destruction of Carthage. Julia gens obtained a divine origin, giving even more legitimacy to the ruling dynasty. Furthermore, this epic exalts the Roman virtues that Augustus so wanted to restore and impose by law.

According to Roman historians, Augustus' sister Octavia faint from emotion upon hearing Virgil reading the Aeneid.

Virgil Reading the Aeneid to Augustus and Octavia. Neoclassical painting by Jean-Joseph Taillasson, 1787

In the story of the Trojan War as told by Homer, Aeneas appears as a secondary character, after heroes such as the Greek Achilles or the Trojan Hector. Meanwhile Virgil made him a protagonist in an epic that linked the fall of Troy and the founding of Rome.

The Siege of Troy. Oil on canvas by French School ( 17th century)

[cursecuelebre]

All About Roman God Mars/Marsi

Attributes

War

Valor

Agriculture

Order

Peace

Boundaries

Vegetation

Fertility

Protector/Guardian of Rome and her people

Forests

Healing

Water

Symbols

Spears

Shields (traditionally 12 sacred shields was dedicated to him)

Wolf

Woodpecker

Geese (Celtic)

Horses

Oxen

Offerings

Beef

Woodpecker feathers or beaks

Wolf images

Metals like bronze, iron, copper things that were used in warfare

Weapons (doesn’t have to be real!)

Exercising

Dancing (traditional three step dance was done by Salii his priests whilst blessing and moving his shields)

Singing his priests would sing during his festivals

Donating for military veterans

Donating or helping to preserve forests and the environment

Donating to help wolf populations depending on where you are. In America wolf population are dangerously low especially for Gray wolves and red wolves. Also conservation for their survival in the wild.

Horse related items especially during October

General information

Mars is the Roman god of war and agriculture respectively, his name derives from Etruscan deity Marsi of agriculture, forests, fertility, and farming including protecting cattle, fields, and property.

“For your cattle, for them to be healthy, make this scarfice to Mars Silvanus you must make the sacrifice each year.” - Cato the Elder, De Agri (ultra 83)

But the Romans when they became more militarized and starting their empire Mars became more as a war god than a fertility deity. They adapted so did Mars as well, his consort was Bellona or Niero a Sabine goddess of valor and war. He is the son of Iuno and Iuppiter (Jupiter) but in another tale his birth came by when Iuno went to the goddess Floris for a magic flower to have a child without a man’s help due to Iuppiter’s ability to birth Minvera without her help. He was one of the twelve Dii Consentes (like the 12 Olympians)

Mars was identified with Greek God Ares however unlike Ares, the Romans favoured Mars second to Iuppiter he was an extremely popular god. He was the father of the founder of Rome, Romulus and his brother Remus, twins that survived by being nurtured by a she-wolf (Lupa).

His priests were dancing soldiers “Salii” who sang at his festivals in the streets. Sacred spears and 12 spears were kept in his temple in Palatine Hill. The month March was named after him (Martius) with many his known festivals happened but there was a festival in October where the only known scarifice of Horses happened in Rome. Back then people also believed all Roman’s descended from Mars himself.

Augury (bird divination) was extremely popular in Ancient Roman times even pre-Roman times. Divination was common and popular among the people of Italy, it was a way to consult the gods. The Woodpecker was said to be one of the most sacred birds of Roman Augury, the Woodpecker or Picus is sacred to Mars because it’s strong beak that can break through bark of oak trees til it reached inside the tree. The Woodpecker was said that Mars held his power within the bird’s beak and to ward way harm carried as a protection charm. It said that it guards a herb called Paeonia that has medicinal properties but it was advised to collect the herb at night unless the woodpecker would blind you (not the pretty way). The Woodpecker was so sacred to the Romans that they avoid eating the bird’s flesh all together. The name Picus came from a man who was an augur that was able to transformed into a woodpecker, it was said he was the son of Mars. The woodpecker was also sacred to the other Italic tribes, the Umbrian word Peiqu which means Woodpecker, and the Picenes derived from Picus who served as their guide animal. The Aequi whose Oracle was a woodpecker that spoke prophecies and the bird sat on a wood column.

The wolf - as mentioned before the she-wolf (Lupa) nurtured the sons of Mars after being abandoned. But the wolf in general appears as a masculine form of Mars. During the battle of Sentinum 295 BCE a wolf appeared as Mars (Martius Lupae) was a sign of Roman victory.

In Roman Gaul they associated Mars with Geese as seen in burial sites of soldiers. Geese were seen as belligerent animals and aggressive. Oxen was commonly scarfice to him and horses that seem to just be sacrifice to him in October.

Festivals

Feb 27- Equirria- horse racing

March 1- Mars dies (birthday), honoring Juno as well.

March 14- second Equirria with chariot races

March 14/15- Marnuralia - A New Year festival when Mamuries Veterius (old mars of the old year) is no more and a new Mars emerges.

March 17- An Agonalia or Agonium Martiale, an event celebration with other deities.

Mar 23 Tubilustrium- Purification of the deploying army

Oct 15- Armilustrium (purification of arms) with chariot races at Robigalia and Consuellia but he wasn’t the primary figure of the festival. 273 BCE and onward he and other gods were honored at lectisteritum, a feast to them while their images and representations were present.

The Priests

Flamen Martialis (Priesthood of Mars) is one of the three major priests in a fifteen member college.

The Salii however were a twelve member priesthood of noble birth dressed as archaic warriors and dance in the parade in the city in March.

Epithets

Mars Silvanus (Forests, Nature, and Natural World)

Mars Quirinus (God of Peace and Order, through military strength)

Mars Pater (Father Mars)

Mars Ultor (Mars the Avenger, given to him by Augustus after the victory over Caesar’s assassins)

Mars Rigisamus (King of kings, Greatest King)

Mars Lenus - (Fusion with the Celtic god of healing Lenus)

Mars Gradivius - ( God of War)

Mars Corotiacus - (Local British version of Mars represented on men on horses who are trampling their enemies).

Mars Condatis - (Fusion with a Celtic god of rivers and water and healing)

Mars Cocidius - (Fusion with a Celtic god of healing and woodlands, but a war god when merged with Mars).

Mars Barrex- - (From Barrecius “The Surpreme One” from a Celtic god)

Mars Alator- (Fusion with the Celtic deity Alator “huntsmen” or “cherisher”)

Mars Albiorix- (Fusion of a Celtic deity Toutatis “King of the World” as a mountain god in southern France other is Caterix “King of Combat”

Roman Hymns of Mars (Carmina)

There was no really much hymns that survived. Only two were documented for historic religious purposes one is Arval Brothers or “Brothers of the Fields” chanted hymn while performing the three step dance. The Carmen Saliare was sung by Mars Priests “Salii” while they moved the the sacred shields (ancilia) throughout the city in a parade. But it was sung in a archaic language even to the Romans and according to Quintilian said that the language was so old that it was no longer understood.

But there are some people who make poetry that obviously sounded like it would be sung for Mars using Latin and ancient Roman instruments. I highly recommend Farya Faraji Son of Mars it’s not historical but he does do other ancient Roman historical poetry and songs recreate using actual ancient Roman instruments.

I highly recommend it, it’s about Mars Ultor and I think if you really like Ancient Rome you will like his work. He also does Ancient Greek and other cultures as well. He is on YouTube as well.

[blorbusshmorbus]

Gladiator II Headcannons:

Tw: mention of illness, grief (implied), child abuse, historical inaccuracies in regards to ancient Numidian dating culture, definitely some level of grammatically incorrect

Caracalla:

Caracalla gets tremors in his hands sometimes when he's stressed. When they're really bad, he can feel it coming, and he ends up wearing larger tunics that cover his arms (are they tunics? idk) in order to hide it, because he's afraid that they make him look weaker.

He has a favourite pair of sandals that have lasted for a good four years

Has an irrational fear of dogs because when he was a toddler he saw his brother become sick from touching one. He doesn't remember this, but the feeling stays

Despite being both incredibly pale and ginger, he, for some reason, doesn't get sunburn

Has less allergies then Geta, and would have been seen as the healthier twin in he didn't contract syphilis

Whenever he wants to piss Geta off, he asks for food that he's allergic to so he can't have any.

When he was about 5, a praetorian let him hold a sword, and ever since then, he's claimed he knows how to wield a sword.

Geta:

Allergic to pine nuts, some types of fish and dogs- specifically borzois.

He orders this one cobbler to, under the threat of the execution of their entire family, remake the same pair of sandals at least once or twice a year, and then instructs them to give it to one of Caracalla's maids. This has been going on for about fourish years now.

Gets really bad hay-fever in the spring, most of the time he blames the symptoms on a hangover.

Clothes-wise, he basically has a massive shared wardrobe with his brother.

He came up with the adoption idea as a half-joke when (he says) he was drunk.

Really fucks with fur cloaks in the winter, most of which end up on his bed as a sort of makeshift weighted blanket.

Prefers winter to any other season

Macrinus:

Has known of the emperors since the reign of their father, but not of how they were raised.

Before Lucius recited Virgil, he tried to speak every single language he knew in front of him to try and see which ones he would recognise.

A small area in the garden of his villa is reserved for growing oranges, because he likes the smell when the trees bloom in the spring.

Absolutely loves language learning from a political standpoint, as the more languages he knows, the greater number of people he can have an influence over.

Has a borzoi called Gilgamesh

Fucks with Euripedes' plays to a worrying (for roman society) degree

He definitely fucks with Plato too

Acacius:

One of the reasons he persuaded Lucilla to get their borzois- Romulus and Remus- was because it would ward off at least one of the emperors

Loves markets and going to the forum

Secretly funds a greek wine merchant to keep supplies up throughout the year

He rolls around in bed and steals blankets, to the point where their shared bed is absolutely huge so Lucilla can actually sleep. The twins do not think that the bed is that big for this reason, though.

Really hopes that Lucius is somehow alive, because he's always wanted to be a father.

He feels slightly fond of Geta (it disgusts him to think this) but really hates Caracalla.

Speaking of his relationship with the twins, he heard rumors from some of his Praetorian friends that they were beaten as children, that Geta always had bruises until his father died.

Lucilla:

There's actually two reasons she got the dogs, but she hasn't told Acacius the other one.

The only thing she thinks the emperors have done well is installing the baths of Caracalla. Everything else is god awful.

Loves Greek wine

Sometimes, she feels bad for the emperors, but bad in a "oh no... oh well, not my problem" sort of way.

Fluent in at least 3 languages, and is learning more incase she needs to flee Rome (she's thinking of going to Greece, but she knows that she'll have to either go to India, China or Persia for political security).

Knows the doctors assigned to the emperors on a personal level.

She sees Lucius in every brown-haired boy she sees, every young man, every senator. She finds that despite her hatred for the roman political system, it has let her see her boy grow up through everyone else. She feels guilty after for 'replacing' her son.

Lucius:

Secretly a dog lover. He was promised a borzoi by Lucilla when he was a little older, but never got the chance.

Has had anxiety all his life, and has an "escape plan" in his head if they were to ever find him in Numidia

Finds repetitive tasks mundane- he had mixed feelings about farming, but he prefers it to fighting for his life in a gladiatoral arena every day.

Is as much as a wife guy as Acacius is, if not more.

At least bicurious

He can speak both Latin and Numidian, though he only knows how to read and write in Numidian.

His wife, when they were dating, taught him how to make bread, and he's done it as a grounding exercise ever since.

Ravi:

Not to assign roles or anything but I really think he's a girldad.

Before he knew that Lucius could speak Latin, he was going to offer to teach it to him

Will not buy his daughter a puppy no matter how much she asks (She gets one as her 7th birthday present...)

His wife is a low level socialite, to the point where, if they can marry their daughter off to the right family, then their grandson might be a senator. Despite this, Ravi doesn't care whatever happens to his daughter, he just wants her to be happy.

Gets weird dreams in the summer because of how hot it is in Rome compared to Londinium (Though, he did manage through British summer so maybe he's ok)

Adopts young gladiators (like, teenagers), and offers them a place to stay once they can leave.

Hates rhinos because animals aren't supposed to be that big

[stirringwinds]

Random question: have you ever heard of an egregore, and do you think that’s what the nations basically are?

kind of, yes 🤔—as per wiki, for everyone else:

Egregore (also spelled egregor; from French égrégore, from Ancient Greek ἐγρήγορος, egrēgoros 'wakeful') is an esoteric concept representing a non-physical entity or thoughtform that arises from the collective thoughts and emotions of a distinct group of individuals.

nations, as i see them, are very much dreamed into being through the hopes and beliefs of humans. sort of an ironic 'and so, humanity made god/the gods in their image.' many nations definitely have a special relationship with the land itself, just as many human cultures are very much rooted in and coloured by a sense of physical space and place too—think of the significance of the Yellow River as the 'cradle' of Chinese civilisation, the Nile for Egypt, the ancient symbolic significance of Mount Fuji to Japanese culture, the broader importance of the Mediterranean to Rome as 'mare nostrum' (our sea) or how the Mexica city of Tenochtitlan was built on and associated with Lake Texcoco. but at its core, the source of their being imo, is humanity (as there are nomadic nations too, for example, who have more fluid relationships with the land, when you consider various ancient seafaring cultures too). for clarity's sake, i'm using the term 'nation' more loosely as a representation of human cultural-political communities, as i'm aware in a stricter definition, 'nations' and 'nationalism' are a strictly modern phenomenon.

i think there's an elegant irony in how nations can seem almost godlike in their (conditional) immortality, and how many were likely considered some variant of divine in many cultural traditions (the roman story is literally that romulus and his brother remus were the children of Mars, the god of war, no?)...but ultimately, they owe their existence to us regular humans whose lifespans are a fraction of theirs. it's like, as representations of human cultural-political communities, they are these larger than life concepts that encompass both the good and bad of humanity; encompassing every beautiful work of art and poem ever composed—but they've also been the ones in whose names wars were fought in since antiquity. they cannot die no matter how badly their incarnate body is injured because the souls of humans that believe in them are what bind them to the world...but by that same token, even the proudest empires of their day—like babylon, rome or carthage—have also been rendered mortal and subject to the unforgiving hand of history; all the rise and falls, and beginnings and endings.

[etymology-of-the-emblem]

Marth / マルス and Elice / エリス

Marth (JP: マルス;  rōmaji: marusu) is the prince of Altea who defeats the Shadow Dragon Medeus in Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon and the Blade of Light, Fire Emblem: Mystery of the Emblem, and their remakes. The surname Marth is of German origin, seemingly taken from a municipality that stemmed from its local market, called Markt in the native language. All things considered, this likely was not an intended connection.

More likely, Marth is intended as a corruption of the name of the Roman war god Mars; in Japanese, the deity's name is typically rendered as マールス (rōmaji: mārusu), but how Marth's name is written is also common. Unlike his Greek counterpart of Ares, who was commonly portrayed as boorish and savage, Mars was greatly revered as both the symbol and defender of Rome, and used warfare as a means to attain peace, rather than out of a desire for destruction. Even the more questionable elements of Mars' character—namely, his relationship with Rhea Silvia and his affair with Venus—are generally painted in a positive light, as it is through Mars that Rhea Silvia gave birth to Rome's founder Romulus and his brother Remus, and he is artistically depicted with Venus as being in a happy, tranquil state.

Marth reflects the prevalent depictions of Mars well. His foremost goal is to bring peace to his homeland of Altea and her people, much like Mars to Rome. But he also isn't someone hungry for battle; Marth is happy to forgo combat when able, but is rarely given the option.

Though of dubious canonicity, the surname of the Altean royal family found in the Mystery of the Emblem OVA series ties into Marth's namesake. Lowell (JP: ローウェル; rōmaji: rōweru) is a English surname meaning "wolf". In Roman culture, the wolf was one of the most sacred symbols of Mars, right behind the woodpecker.

Elice (JP: エリス;  rōmaji: erisu) is the princess of Altea and older sister of Marth. The name Elice is a variant of Elise, which in turn is a diminutive form of Elizabeth, a name carried by many queens and princesses. However, considering her brother's name, her name is most likely a corruption of the Greek goddess of strife, Eris. According to Homer, Eris was "sister and comrade" to Ares; though this phase was likely more symbolic of the two gods' relation to conflict, it fed the conception Ares and Eris (and their Roman counterparts Mars and Discordia) were siblings.

Eris is best known for her role in inadvertently starting the Trojan War. After not being invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, parents of the hero Achilles, she decided to cause trouble amongst the goddesses that were. She cast into the event a golden apple, with the words "for the fairest" written on it. This brought about a disturbance between Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite. It was Zeus who selected the Trojan hero Paris as the judge of their beauty. Though each goddess had proposed tempting bribes to the man, it was Aphrodite's bargain that took Paris: the most beautiful woman on earth, Helen, queen of Sparta and wife of Menelaus. However, when the King of Sparta took a woman of such beauty for a wife, it was agreed by all of the kingdoms of Greece to go to war against any who spirit away Helen. As such, Troy's fate was sealed the moment made his deal with the goddess of love.

It seems that allusion to Eris is not to directly connect the princess of Altea to the character of the goddess, but rather to the consequences of her Apple of Discord. Elice remains in the kingdom for its fall—an inevitable fall based on the tensions between Altea and Gra. One could interpret Altea as being a stand-in for Troy. Elice could then simultaneously represent Helen's abduction, with both women serving as motivation for their family to fight. That is, at least, a favorable interpretation; Elice's name may have simply been chosen because the main character is named after Mars and one man said that Eris was his Greek equivalent's sister.

[do-not-consume]

Sanders Sides predictions!! (On my burner account just in case anyone takes this too seriously) this is just for fun, don't sue me. (Includes all characters... Uhh in some form, there is no violence except threatened and I do realize at least some of it could never happen due to being too complicated to film in an apartment.) It starts very vague and then gets to dialogue for the really good part. DLDR

The video starts with Thomas. He's really struggling to put together a video. Logan immediately jumps to the opportunity to talk about the healthy schedule he proposed. Patton is summoned pretty early (pops up for a pun) but after he stays uncharacteristically quiet. When he's pushed, he admits he'd rather be quiet than wrong.

Logan assumes it's an anxiety problem then and summons Virgil. Who, for some reason, is avoiding Thomas like the plague. He tells them he has nothing to do with it, which immediately calls up Janus. Virgil leaves asap. Janus explains that, actually, he's not here because of Virgil, he's here to watch what Remus is about to do. Turns out Remus has been walking around all excited about this new change in process that's supposed to happen today and since he wasn't in his room, Janus figured he would find him up here. But there's no Remus.

Janus also looks confused as to why nobody went to get Roman. Logan admits he still doesn't like him very much and would have preferred if he stayed out of the picture for what is clearly a Patton related problem, because Patton is very soft spoken right now and Roman would just talk over him like he always does (and he had plenty screentime in the last video anyway). Both Thomas and Patton feel too bad about last time to talk to him first. But alright, if it will help the case, we'll summon him... Exept he doesn't show up. Thomas isn't scared, he's got complete creative block.

Roman must've ducked out.

They decide pretty quickly that they should go to his room (at least once Janus reminds everyone that they don't know where Remus is and what he could do if he's alone with Roman)

So they get into his room.. but it's dark. There are torches on the walls, beautiful paintings of Prince Roman, slaying the Dragon Witch, slaying on the stage, royal portraits of him and Mrs Snuffles. A single painting of two young boys, playing together in the garden, one dressed in black and one dressed in white.. And there's a throne.

"Well well, look who decided to finally show up." A man gets up from the throne. His voice sounds ice cold. And as he steps down into the light of the torches, they turn green. And they see a man with a big crown, worthy of a king, with a white streak in his hair and a sword by his side.

Janus looks like he'd just seen a ghost. "We have to leave. Right now. This isn't safe for any of us"

"Awwwh, Janus," the man before them slips into a Remus-like voice, walking closer and closer"don't spoil the fun." His voice turns cold once again. "You know.. I've been thinking about what you said to me last time we met. That I'm just the same as my brother. That we're both evil and cruel.. and it hurt me. It hurt me very very deeply," he grabs Janus by the cape. Others try to help him but he dismisses them. "I never wanted to leave my room again, how much it hurt. I couldn't believe you would say something like that... Something so.. true. I was too blind to see it before, but you were right. I am just as bad, as my brother is. And if I'm just as bad.. there's no reason to stay split apart."

Logan finally gets between him and Janus. He lets him go willingly. "Falsehood. You all have your own specific purposes in this system. So please, Roman-" a deep chuckle interrupts him

"Roman? Oh, haha, no. Roman's dead now. Me and my brother are one once again, no prince, no duke, but King. No Roman. No Remus. I am King Romulus, and you will address me as such. Now, get out of my room. Before I feed you to Mrs. Sniffles."

Behind the throne, a large plume of smoke emerges.

"Well, that ain't a cat" Patton is still quiet, staring down a giant silhouette of a dragon witch rising up.

[miracl3-align3r]

RITE HERE RITE NOW SPOILERS AND THEORIES AHEAD

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The theory that Jim DeFroque is Copia’s fraternal twin (and now Papa V) was brought to my attention today and I am FROTHING AT THE MOUTH.

Hear me out

Ok, so, remember how people took the name DeFroque as foreshadowing of Copia being defrocked? Well, what if this whole time, Jim was Copia’s twin, except he got defrocked and sent away, hence why he’s a Christian preacher.

Now, in RHRN, the twins Romulus and Remus from Roman mythology are referenced. In the story of those brothers, they were abandoned by their mother as infants, raised by a wolf, and later founded Rome together. However, Romulus later kills Remus so he could be the only ruler. Before Sister Imperator dies, baby Copia and his twin are shown, and are also briefly shown as children, which is where the Romulus and Remus reference comes in. They are also depicted in stained glasses in the background with a definite Romulus and Remus quality to it.

Further, now we have Copia in charge of the ministry as Frater Imperator, with Papa V arriving. We can only assume Papa V is his twin, and that, as they’ll basically be sharing control of the ministry, that the Romulus and Remus story is going to play out.

The theory I’m leaning towards is that Jim is the twin, and, having been defrocked and sent away, is coming back and going to try and take the ministry for himself, in the way Romulus killed Remus to take full control of Rome. I can only guess that this will be at least part of the premise of the next album and future lore.

Also, I’m just realizing that Copia means “together,” “with,” “plural,” etc… It was foreshadowed that he’d be a twin this whole time.