#Empires II

[revvlation]

diagnosis: orange cats' behaviour

[grunge-samurai]

Me, getting ready to go watch Gladiator II tonight and awake once again my life-long hyperfixation with Ancient Rome.

[arcanefox207]

Ok but like... I need him? 😭😭

[getagirlie]

joseph quinn as EMPEROR GETA in "gladiator II" (2024)

[reveluvjay]

Just seen Gladiator 2 and the theater damn near became a swimming pool 🫷🥴🫸

I wanna lick everyone. Everywhere. Including the extras. My tongue is giving bath towel rn. I'm in my "oui oui baget" era, I'm bouta go to Paris.

(I'm so sorry my inner freak won)

[lostintimeandspace00]

Y’all I need him. I NEED THAT MAN. Need him. Want him. *naws at enclosure bars* I NEED HIM SOOOOO BAD. How in the hell is he so cute. DAMN. I need to give him the biggest cuddle ever. I just want to kiss his cute face. Rest my head on his chest. Like BABY COME HOME TO THE KIDS. To call him baby and just stroke his face. I’m so down bad.

[themugs]

I made more tee hee

[gladiaralla]

Caracalla rises unsteadily to his feet.

“Join us in the bedrooms Macrinus, show us your might.” (Caracalla)

“I prefer not to display my techniques for fear of plagiarism Emperor.” (Macrinus)

Caracalla roars with laughter as the Emperors depart for the bedrooms.

[Gladiator II, script]

[whereisyourpippinnow]

Nobody:

Me:

[fideozepam]

The Price of Obedience - Chapter 1

Camilla learns of her impending arranged marriage to one of the deceased emperor’s sons. She grapples with the weight of leaving her home and stepping into an uncertain future in Rome.

The world here, in Lusitania, was much simpler.

The breeze carried the smell of lavender and warmed the sunlit fields she was laying on, a half-read parchment rested beside Camilla, forgotten in her soft haze of sleep

“Lady Camilla? Lady Camilla!”

A distant voice called her name, blending with the rustling of the olive trees and the chirping of cicadas, but it grew louder and closer.

“Lady Camilla!”

She stirred as she laid on the grass, groggily blinking at the golden light. “Mm… Yes, I’m coming.” Camilla mumbled, brushing her tunic free of grass and dirt as she stood up. A strand of hair fell over her face, quickly tucking it back as the servant approached.

“Your parents wish to speak with you.”

A sigh escaped Camilla’s mouth, picking up the scroll with reluctant fingers. She had been midway through a particularly amusing monologue and the interruption soured her mood.

"Can't it wait?" She asked, though she already knew the answer.

Her silence confirmed it, and with a reluctant stretch, she began the walk back home. The villa loomed ahead, white and golden under the afternoon sun, its colonnades glowing warmly. Camilla felt a twinge of unease; it was unusual for both her parents to summon her like this.

Usually, they left her to her books and musings, more content with her quiet obedience than with involving her in household matters compared to her sisters.

Stepping into the cool shade of the atrium, she was struck by the sight of her parents seated side by side. Her father, sat with his hands clasped on his lap and besides her mother, watching as Camilla approached with an unreadable expression. Something was wrong- No. Something was changing.

"Camilla," he began, his voice firm yet heavy. "We have received news from Rome."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she glanced between her parents

Lusitania had long been under the Roman Empire’s shadow, a province folded into the vastness of their dominion, but its distance had always shielded her from its grandeur and its burdens. The Empire was something distant, abstract—gilded temples and mighty legions, names whispered with awe and caution.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice steady but her heart racing. Her curious eyes darted between them. What kind of news from Rome could possibly involve her?

Her mother’s gaze was unreadable, drifting toward the frescoed walls as though seeking solace in the painted pastoral scenes. Her father, however, looked directly at her. There was pride in his eyes—a rare glint of emotion she had not often seen. It unsettled her.

“Camilla,” he began, his tone weighted with significance, “you have been noticed. Among all the daughters of noble families in Lusitania, you have been chosen.”

“Chosen?” she repeated, frowning slightly.

“By Rome,” he clarified, his voice swelling. “The Empress herself, Julia Domna, has heard of your beauty, your refinement, your wit—and she has seen fit to select you as a bride for one of her sons.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncanny. Camilla stared at him, the weight of it pressing into her chest as her breath got caught in her throat. The room seemed to dim, the painted walls blurring into the edges of her vision.

“But—” she began, faltering. “I… I don’t understand. Why me? What do I even have?”

“Because you are extraordinary,” her father said with a rare softness, his pride bleeding into his voice. “Because your presence in Rome will bring honor to our family and strengthen the bond between Lusitania and the Empire.”

Camilla’s mother finally spoke, her voice low but firm. “It is an opportunity, Camilla. A life you could never dream of here.”

Her father leaned forward slightly. “You were not raised as an imperial daughter, but you have the qualities of one. You will be an asset to the dynasty, and with your intelligence, you will thrive there.”

Camilla sat frozen, her mouth slightly agape, brows furrowed into a confused grimace. The words had struck her like a stone to the chest, and her mind spun wildly, searching for answers that made sense.

“Why me?” she finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible, more to herself than her parents.

She glanced down at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap, the words repeating in her head like a mocking echo. Why her? Why not her older sisters? They had always been more secure, more confident, their golden locks and sapphire eyes drawing admiration wherever they went—so unlike her.

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she risked another glance at her father, who still looked down at her with unwavering pride. But why not them? she thought bitterly. Her sisters seemed made for this role, shimmering like figures from the frescoes of their villa. Camilla, by contrast, had always felt like the black sheep of the family.

Her dark brown hair and deep green eyes were a mirror of her father’s, a legacy she had once treasured but now found dull compared to her sisters’ luminous beauty. Where they radiated charm and poise, she had always been quiet, more comfortable in her own solace than the company of others.

“An emperor’s wife?” she blurted suddenly, her voice cracking under the weight of the thought. She looked at her mother, then her father, as if pleading for this to be some cruel joke. “Compared to them, I—”

“You are extraordinary,” her father interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “Your beauty is unique, as is your intelligence. Rome values wit and character, not only golden hair and pale eyes.”

Camilla blinked, the praise washing over her in waves that didn’t quite reach her. Intelligence? Wit? Her father might believe in these qualities, but how could she trust them when she could barely gather the courage to speak to men at all? Even her father’s company often left her tongue-tied. And now she was expected to stand beside a Roman emperor, to speak, to serve, to be perfect.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling. “I—I can’t even hold a conversation with you without fumbling my words, Father. How can I… how could I…”

Her mother’s expression softened, but her tone remained practical. “You will learn. Rome will shape you. And you will thrive.”

Camilla looked at her again, then at her father. But all she could feel was a deep, gnawing fear that this path was not hers to walk, that she was being thrust into a world she didn’t belong in—and could never belong in.

Her father came closer, lowering himself to meet her gaze. "Camilla, this is no punishment. You were chosen because you are remarkable."

Remarkable. The word felt foreign, as though it belonged to someone else entirely.

But she didn't argue. Years of being taught to never question authority held her tongue. Slowly, she nodded, forcing herself to her feet even as her legs trembled beneath her. Without another word, she turned and left the room, her feet dragging as if they carried the weight of the empire itself.

Her mother watched her go, her brows knitting together with unspoken worry. "Do you think she's ready for this?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with doubt.

Her father's answer was immediate, his smile confident. "She'll be perfect."

tags

lmk if u wanna be tagged ! : @quuinyoung

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

Just saying if Ray slept with a ghost in the 1st GB and Egon slept with Ghost slime in the 2nd Ghostbusters Phoebe could have totally kissed Melody in Ghostbusters Frozen Empire

[illustratus]

The Emperor of Byzantium Basil II during the Georgian campaign, 1020 by Giuseppe Rava

[arcanefox207]

Daddyyyy, I mean General Marcus Acacius ... 💀💀💀

🧡 Please use and enjoy my gifs as you please! Reblogs appreciated🧡 Gif requests are open!

G I F N O T I F I C A T I O N S | G I P H Y

Tagging my sluts who in real time died on this morning @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @for-a-longlongtime @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman

[dyingroses]

Star Wars + text posts and stuff

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

the greens.