Happy Birthday To The Most Ass-shakable Album Ever

Tbh "these characters are a package deal" is always fun. Platonic, romantic, whatever: it's fun. Where one goes, the other shall surely follow.

Geta Headcanons

Geta always has a plan. In fact, he usually has two, three, four plans in the back of his mind. His brain is never not working; he’s always watching, always anticipating his and everyone else’s next move. He’s got it all down, he knows every exit in every room in the palace, he always has his back to the wall, he wears his sturdiest rings just in case he has to lash out. He’s thin, lanky even, but he figures he’s been on the receiving end of enough punches from his father to know how to land one himself.

Every blink, every flick of a finger, every word that comes out just a little bit off, he notices it. He sees how people watch him, but he watches them right back, and he sees it all. Things maybe they don’t even realize they’re doing. But Geta sees it, analyzes it, his mind spinning with reasons for why. Why do the senators fiddle with their robes when he is speaking? Why does Lucilla pause slightly before she answers his questions? Why does Tegula’s lip twitch whenever Geta adjusts his laurels? He’s got a million answers for each question, and not one of those answers makes him feel any better.

Geta doesn’t sleep well. He never has. He has trouble falling asleep and then staying asleep. As an adult, he grinds his teeth so badly he’s had one removed at the back of his mouth. As a child, he’d stare at Caracalla, passed out and snoring, completely oblivious to the world around him. Geta envied him for it. He still does.

Caracalla. It’s not entirely Caracalla’s fault he’s ill, Geta knows that. Geta isn’t even sure Caracalla knows he’s ill most of the time. Geta pities him as much as he loves him. If he thinks about it too much, he feels his throat seizes up and he has to close his eyes. He hasn’t cried in a long time.

Geta layers on the cuffs, stacks his rings, slathers his face with make up. Geta does not always like being himself. The thicker the eye shadow, the more elaborate his robes, the more 'Emperor' he looks, the less he sees himself and the less others can see him too, he thinks. He hopes. He doesn’t always feel that way, not when he is standing in the middle of a room, playing his part, and then something or someone goes off script and he’s left naked and exposed, a fool.

When that happens, Geta broods. He paces, he fiddles with those same rings he layered on for protection. He replays the moments over and over and over and over and over in his head, he can’t stop himself. His stomach burns and he’s found himself on the ground a few times, curled up and sweating, blinking back hot tears and swallowing bile. He’s pulled out hair before, he’s made himself bleed with his own fingernails, and so now he cuts them short.

Sorry for not posting so much, feeling way too whimsical rn.

Horse figure of the day: Stig Lindberg Horse

hello hellooo are you aware of the long long string of emails from patrick bateman to his therapist released to promote american psycho (2000). because you should be! and you should read them, they are fantastic!

Do you ever sit and think just how tragic the twins are during the entirety of gladiator two?

Do you ever think how Geta and his brother, both nearly completely uneducated have to manage political conversations and even exchange "pleasantries" with Roman nobles who have had the highest of educations (or even normal citizens some of whom probably know more than them) ?

Do you ever think how easily manipulated they are because they have noone to trust?

Do you ever think how macrinus manages to assassinate them via pretending to be their friend? How badly both him and his brother wanted someone they can trust (Geta literally confided in him about his brothers illness.....) Macrinus is older than the twins, so it's highly likely that their daddy issues also played part on how happy they were to have someone they can call a friend.

Do you ever think how ALONE Geta feels having not only to shoulder majority of the responsibilities of being emperors, but also to handle his brothers illness? How he has to hide it from the public, as it's such an obvious Achilles heel, that could and most likely would, encourage even more rebellion and be a cause of mockery for them? How Geta has to sleep at night knowing that even after all the blows he had taken to protect his brother from their parents, during his fits Caracalla is incapable of remembering that? Of thinking Geta as anything but an enemy? Of how they are at risk of being assassinated constantly and his brother is not understanding the significance of that threat? How Caracallas biggest comfort (aside from Dondus), the one who loves him the most, is also the one who he fears and despises during his episodes? How Geta feels knowing that his brothers illness could at some point kill him, leaving him completely on his own?

Do you ever think how Geta died looking at the face of his brother and the one person he thought he could confide in? How Caracalla died all alone in the hands of the man who also took away his brother?

Lestat would 100% cry to Sun Bleached Flies by Ethel Cain

Acclamation Day

Aka: Caracalla's stream of consciousness during the biggest moment of his life.

They're waiting for him. It's his big day after all, his acclamation.

Everything is going perfectly, but why shouldn't it? Beautiful purple and gold robes have replaced his old blue and gold ones and the fabric is soft and light on his skin. He looks down at himself. Yes, this is nice, his old ones had been stained anyway.

Geta never let him wear purple even though they're emperors and emperors wear purple, he knows that and he knows Geta knows that too but he had never been allowed- why though? It's silly, he should be able to wear purple because he is an emperor and thats what emperors wear, but he's in purple now so everything is okay. Except Geta still isn't here and he isn't sure why. Where is he? Perhaps already in his seat.

He spots Macrinus. Behind him, a bit further away is Lucilla. Lucilla didn't want to be his Mummy so now she had to pay. But... he isn't sure if he still wants her to pay, anymore. She could still be his Mummy, he could give her another chance. The General hasn't been around for a while, so maybe with him gone, Lucilla would change her mind.

"Must we kill Lucilla?" He whispers to Macrinus.

Macrinus is tall. He leans in, on his tip toes. Macrinus is nice, he told them about the plans the General and Lucilla had made. Geta said that they could trust Macrinus, so he does.

"Until she is dead, you will never know peace" Macrinus whispers back.

He nods. His head hurts a bit, and he moves on slowly, heading up the stairs. It's hot in the colosseum, and his nice new purple robes are beginning to stick to him.

Two big chairs. One for him and one for Geta. Geta isn't sitting here like he thought he would be. So where is Geta? Geta never leaves him, at least not for long. It's been a little while but they were just talking, they had been arguing actually-

Well, if Geta isn't here, he might as well take Geta's seat and let Dondus have his old one. That is nice of him, he thinks. He's a good emperor.

He smiles. The games begin and he can't stop himself, he loves this. He loves the colosseum, he loves the games, he loves watching the gladiators and wild animals. Sometimes it's hard for him to follow, it's hard for him to track which is the animal and which is the human but its all the same isn't it? It's all the same and its fun. He and Geta have been coming to the colosseum since they were boys- where is Geta, again? He should be here-

He looks throughout the box. There's Macrinus, behind him, like usual. Macrinus is watching the games closely so he turns back around and focuses too. A good emperor must always lead by example.

And there's Lucilla! She looks beautiful, even from a distance. He remembers what Macrinus had whispered to him. Peace. He likes the fighting and the bloodshed and watching the gladiators fly through the air but he knows peace is good, people like peace. His fingers fiddle with the gold thread on his robes.

A yell from below catches his attention. The Praetorians are doing a good job, he thinks, squinting at the action. A laugh slips out and his tongue finds his gold tooth. Where in the world is Geta? He's missing it, he's missing everything, he's missing the big day-

There's that gladiator poet Geta hates! Geta is going to be so angry when he finds out he missed this-

The men are scrambling below, yelling and shouting, crying out and it's so close to him- he scoots forward, trying to see everything. When they were children, he and Geta used to practice with wooden swords, yelling and rolling in the courtyards, just like this. They are emperors now and Geta says it's unbecoming to play fight again like they used to, but it would be fun, he thinks. It's hot and he's sweating a bit but that's okay- a little sweat never hurt a warrior-

"This is war! Real war!" He cries out, unable to contain it.

Does anyone hear him? It's loud, almost too loud, and his head throbs once more. The crowd is yelling, he watches them all, the plebeians, his plebeians, his people. He shifts back in his seat.

Where is Lucilla's General? He'd like this, he'd like the action, perhaps he could even ask the General to show him some things- Geta's cape! He has Geta's cape and he has laurels to match, he could-

Copper red rivers squirm through the sand below. But it's not the salty, fishy smell of water he's used to when he goes to the coast. It's metallic and cold, wafting up with the dust and nestling in his senses like it lives there.

He leans back in his seat. It's hot, he's too hot, his nice purple robes are sticking to him and he doesn't like them anyway, he decides that suddenly, he wants to be back in his old ones, even if they're stained, even if it's Geta's blood on them because that's what it was, that smell, that red splash across the sand that was the same blood spray that had covered him. He's sitting in Geta's chair and Geta isn't here and it's not good, nothing is good anymore, this is not how his day is supposed to go- Geta is supposed to be here but he's not and he's sitting in Geta's chair and its his own fault-

Warmth spreads from his shoulder down. Someone is touching him, Geta, he is praying. A cold brush against his ear lobe, is his earring falling? And then-

Going crazy over the sleeves, it's too long for him 🥺🥹