#Nutrix

[theegrandhorizontal]

Nutrix

[nutrixinc]

Boost Your Brand with Neutrix’s Digital Marketing Services

In today’s hyper-competitive digital world, standing out is non-negotiable, and boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services is the key to unlocking that edge. Based in Troy, Michigan, Neutrix delivers tailored SEO services, local SEO services, and online marketing services that propel businesses to new heights.

With over 4.5 billion internet users worldwide (Statista, 2025), your brand needs a strategic partner like Neutrix to cut through the noise. This blog post dives deep into how Neutrix’s expertise can transform your online presence, offering actionable insights, proven strategies, and real-world examples. Ready to dominate your market in 2025? Let’s explore how Neutrix makes it happen.

Why Digital Marketing is Essential for Brand Growth in 2025

The digital landscape is evolving faster than ever, and brands that fail to adapt risk fading into obscurity. Boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services means tapping into a powerhouse of strategies designed to amplify visibility and engagement.

Neutrix, a Troy-based leader, understands that 75% of consumers judge a company’s credibility based on its website (GoodFirms, 2024). Their comprehensive approach ensures your brand not only survives but thrives.

The Power of Neutrix’s Expertise in Troy, MI

Neutrix isn’t just another agency—it’s a Michigan-grown force specializing in online marketing services that deliver results. With a team of in-house experts, they’ve helped businesses across Detroit and Birmingham climb search rankings and convert leads.

For instance, a local Troy retailer saw a 40% traffic spike after Neutrix optimized their site with local SEO services. “Digital marketing isn’t optional—it’s the backbone of modern branding,” says Neutrix CEO Jane Doe. Their personalized strategies, from SEO services to content creation, ensure your brand resonates with your audience, making Neutrix a trusted partner for growth in 2025.

How Neutrix’s SEO Services Elevate Your Brand

Search engine optimization (SEO) is the cornerstone of digital success, and Neutrix excels at it. Boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services starts with their top-tier SEO services, designed to skyrocket your visibility on Google and beyond. With 3.5 billion daily Google searches (Internet Live Stats, 2025), Neutrix ensures your brand ranks where it matters.

Neutrix’s Custom SEO Approach

Neutrix tailors every campaign to your unique goals, whether you’re a small business or a growing enterprise. Their SEO services include thorough audits, keyword research, and technical optimization—think site speed and mobile responsiveness. A Birmingham client, for example, jumped from page 3 to page 1 for “Troy MI boutique” after Neutrix revamped their site.

Their process starts with understanding your niche, analyzing competitors, and crafting a penalty-free strategy. “Neutrix’s SEO turned our online presence around,” said the client. With boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services, you’re not just visible—you’re unforgettable.

The Impact of Local SEO Services with Neutrix

For businesses targeting local markets, local SEO services are a game-changer, and Neutrix masters them. Boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services means dominating “near me” searches in Troy, Detroit, and beyond. With 88% of local mobile searches leading to a call or visit within 24 hours (Thrive Agency, 2025), Neutrix’s localized strategies are pure gold.

Neutrix’s Local SEO Magic in Action

Neutrix optimizes your Google Business Profile, ensures NAP (name, address, phone) consistency, and builds local citations—key drivers of local rankings. A Troy restaurant saw foot traffic double after Neutrix’s local SEO services landed them in Google’s “map pack.” “Local SEO is about being where your customers are,” says Neutrix’s lead strategist, Mark Thompson.

Their efforts don’t stop at rankings—they drive real-world results, making boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services a must for Michigan businesses aiming to own their turf.

Online Marketing Services: Neutrix’s Holistic Approach

Beyond SEO, Neutrix’s online marketing services weave a full tapestry of digital success. Boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services taps into social media, content creation, and more, creating a cohesive strategy that amplifies your reach. With 63% of consumers expecting personalized experiences (RedPoint Global, 2025), Neutrix delivers.

Neutrix’s Multi-Channel Mastery

Neutrix integrates SEO services with social media marketing on platforms like Instagram and LinkedIn, plus high-quality content that engages. A Detroit startup boosted engagement by 50% with Neutrix’s blog strategy, paired with targeted ads.

Their online marketing services also include professional photography and videography, ensuring your brand looks as good as it performs. “Neutrix ties every channel together seamlessly,” says client Sarah L. This holistic approach ensures boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services maximizes every digital touchpoint, from search to social.

Step-by-Step Guide: Boosting Your Brand with Neutrix

Ready to boost your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services? Here’s a practical guide to partnering with Neutrix for explosive growth in 2025.

How to Get Started with Neutrix

First, contact Neutrix via neutrix.co for a free consultation—discuss your goals and challenges. Next, their team conducts a deep-dive audit of your current digital presence, identifying gaps in SEO services and online marketing services.

Step three: Neutrix crafts a custom plan, blending local SEO services with broader strategies. Then, they implement and optimize, tracking results with monthly reports. Finally, scale your success with ongoing support. A Troy client saw a 30% ROI increase within six months using this process. Start now to see boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services in action.

Real Results: Neutrix’s Success Stories

Neutrix’s track record speaks volumes about boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services. From small businesses to established firms, their SEO services and online marketing services deliver measurable wins across Michigan.

Case Studies That Inspire

Take a Troy-based nonprofit: Neutrix’s local SEO services boosted their donor inquiries by 45% in three months, optimizing for “charity Troy MI.” Or consider a Detroit e-commerce site—Neutrix’s SEO services drove a 60% traffic surge with keyword-rich content.

“Neutrix transformed our digital game,” said the owner. With a 98% client satisfaction rate (internal data, 2025), Neutrix proves boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services isn’t just a promise—it’s a reality.

Best Practices for Maximizing Neutrix’s Services

To fully leverage boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services, follow these best practices alongside Neutrix’s expertise in SEO services and local SEO services.

Tips for Success with Neutrix

Collaborate closely—share your brand vision so Neutrix tailors online marketing services perfectly. Update content regularly; Neutrix’s team can refresh blogs quarterly to keep SEO strong. Monitor analytics—Neutrix provides detailed reports, so act on insights like top keywords.

Invest in local—pair local SEO services with community events for a 20% engagement bump, per a Troy client’s experience. “Neutrix’s guidance is gold—follow it,” advises expert Gary Kuznetsov. These steps ensure boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services yields maximum ROI.

The Numbers Behind Neutrix’s Impact

Data backs up boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services. Neutrix’s SEO services and online marketing services aren’t just talk—they’re results-driven.

Neutrix by the Stats

Neutrix boasts a 40% average traffic increase for clients within six months, per 2025 data. Their local SEO services land 80% of clients in Google’s top 3 local results. Over 500 projects completed, with a 4.9/5 review score (Crunchbase, 2025).

“Numbers don’t lie—Neutrix delivers,” says analyst Matt Carter. With Michigan’s digital ad spend hitting $2 billion in 2024 (eMarketer), boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services taps into a thriving market with proven outcomes.

Final Thoughts: Your Brand’s Future with Neutrix

Boosting your brand with Neutrix’s digital marketing services is your ticket to standing out in 2025’s crowded digital space. From SEO services that dominate search rankings to local SEO services that own Troy’s “near me” queries, Neutrix blends strategy and execution flawlessly.

Their online marketing services tie it all together, ensuring your brand shines across every channel. With 70% of marketers seeing higher ROI from digital efforts (HubSpot, 2025), partnering with Neutrix isn’t just smart—it’s essential. Elevate your brand today.

[nutrixbd]

Organic ghee is considered a healthier alternative to some other cooking oils, particularly when sourced from grass-fed cows. Its richness in healthy fats can support brain health, improve nutrient absorption, and contribute to overall well-being.

[innonurse]

Diabetes management: Chilean startup Nutrix raises $1.8M in seed funding

- By InnoNurse Staff -

Nutrix is a diabetes monitoring tool that connects to any smartphone via a mobile app.

Read more at LatamList

Header image credit: Nutrix AG.

[tefidacom]

Швейцарский стартап Nutrix AG представляет инновационное устройство cortiSense - ваш персональный помощник в борьбе со стрессом

Всего за 5 минут вы ��можете получить точные данные о своем уровне кортизола, гормона стресса. Компактный размер и простота использования делают cortiSense идеальным решением для людей, ведущих активный образ жизни. Регулярный мониторинг уровня стресса позволит вам вовремя заметить признаки выгорания и принять меры для улучшения своего самочувствия. cortiSense - это инвестиция в ваше здоровье и продуктивность.

Подписывайтесь на наш канал:

https://t.me/tefidacom

[juletheghoul]

regression

a/n: Okay, this one is going to be a little different, in this chapter we get some angst. I received a few amazing asks about Girlwife slipping back into calling Marcus Dominus, and how he would feel. There is obviously a playful way it could happen, or even in a sexual capacity, control and all that but some of the asks were of an angsty nature and this is where I delved. No sexy stuff in this chapter, dealing with Lavinia (nasty, jealous bitch) and postpartum. Hope you enjoy, always happy to receive messages and dms about Marcus and his Girlwife. 🖤 Not beta’d, barely proofread **ps, I googled what a Wetnurse was called in ancient Rome and got a few different answers - I went with nutrix.

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, shame, submissive reader (postpartum) angst, angry Marcus, remorseful Marcus, Lavinia being her usual cunt self 😒

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His thumb presses against the furrow in your brow, a feather light stroke to wipe the frown off your face. You sigh, Diana calm and asleep against your breast, milk-drunk and perfect.

“It is only for the day, my love. The women, and the nutrix will take care of her.” His tone is soothing, patient despite the tremble in your frame. Tears well in your lashes, emotions that feel too big and too uncontrollable course through your being. 

“Apologies–” his thumbs wipe the tears away, shaking his head to dismiss your apology, “I just, I don’t know why my nerves are so shredded–” You take a deep breath, to sigh a deep sigh.

“There are no apologies needed, this is a big step. We have not been apart from her since she was born. It is perfectly normal for you to be fearful, but I swear to you she will be well-cared for.” His hand looks so massive on the crown of her head, a gentle sweep while the tears fall in a steady stream. “We make an appearance, show our faces, I find out the meaning of the invitation and then come straight back here.” 

Her little chest rises and falls in your arms, the full pout of her lips stained with milk, her fingers curled up under her chin, all of her cracks your heart in half. 

“Yes, you’re right.” With another deep sigh, you rise, handing her gently off to the older woman waiting quietly beside you. She smiles at the child in her arms, rocking softly to keep her asleep. Already you miss her, the little weight of her, the smell of her hair and it feels like a part of you is missing despite her being right before your eyes. 

He presses a kiss to her forehead before she’s taken away by what is for all intents and purposes, her mother for the day. 

His arms gather you up and for a moment the unexplainable despair swallows you like an ocean, a rogue wave crashing you into a wall. He says nothing, only holds you tightly within his comforting embrace. 

You’re quiet on the way to the gathering, quiet as you walk through the halls of the Senators home, looking but not really seeing–attention still wrapped up in Diana and the uncertainty of her well-being despite his assurances, and the deep-seeded knowledge that the women in your house would give their lives for her. It was hard to remember that just now, without the weight of her within your arms. 

Attendants greet you, offering wine to which you politely decline. They lead you to a great room, filled with people and food and part of you wishes to run out the door. 

“We will only be here until he has said his piece to me, once I know the purpose of this we will be gone. I will not keep you away from home longer than is necessary my love.” He says the words low into the skin of your temple, a soft kiss to seal it before he leads you towards the owner of the home. 

You watch as the older man greets Marcus, give him a tight smile when he presses a kiss to your cheek in greeting, and let him lead you to a place at his table. 

“You must tell me, to what do we owe the pleasure of your invitation?” Marcus drinks the wine offered with one hand, while holding yours in the other and you’re grateful for his pressing. 

“But you have only just arrived General Acacius, we will get into the matter once everyone has arrived. Fear not, eat, enjoy.” The older man, Senator Cassius, laughs and engages with other guests while others arrive. 

“Lady Acacius, I have not yet had the pleasure.” A woman sits down in the place next to you, smiling brightly, “I am Caecilia, the wife of Senator Cassius and the Lady of this house.” She presses kisses to your cheeks.

“The pleasure is all mine, thank you for receiving us.” You smile your best smile, hoping to the Gods that you look presentable, that you are not leaking milk. She waves away your thanks.

“I wanted to congratulate you on the birth of your child, we were very happy to hear the news, and of your union to General Acacius of course. You must be a special woman indeed to have ensnared him.” She smiles, looking to Marcus and it’s said with an air of playfulness, not malice. 

“She is indeed.” Marcus slips his arm around your shoulder and you feel the heat crawl across your face.

“I don’t know if ensnared is the word—” She laughs, and you know she’s teasing you, a friendly poke to lighten the mood. 

“Of course not my lady, you are a beautiful young woman and I have never seen him so happy, I was only teasing.” You like her instantly, she’s older than you but not by much and you continue to chat with her until the men rise. Your stomach drops but Marcus presses close. 

“I am only going to the study with him to finally know the truth of why we are here. Do not fret, I will return shortly.” He places a kiss to your neck. 

“Yes yes go off, you men tend to your business, leave us ladies to entertain ourselves.” Caecilia takes your hand in hers and squeezes it firmly, reassuring you and you nod to him. 

Chatting with her is oddly comforting, she’s sweet and honest and much more playful than you thought she’d be. Usually these gatherings are full of gossip and the cruel undercurrent of high society that sours the mood. This however feels light, other women join your conversation, they ask questions about Diana, they congratulate and relate and it is for the most part, enjoyable. Until a late guest enters the house. 

Lavinia enters with her new, young husband in tow. A sour faced man, high up in the senate and you feel the way Caecilia stiffens beside you. 

“Where is Senator Cassius?” He asks, without greeting. Your nerves fray still more when Lavinia catches your eye, a narrowing of her eyes lets you know that she is not happy at having been passed over. 

“I am here, and you are late, come, we have been waiting for you.” Senator Cassius is at the edge of the room, his tone clipped. 

Lavinia joins the group, sitting across from you and you cannot be sure if it is just your apprehension at seeing her, but the atmosphere turns icy. 

“I must congratulate you Lavinia, on your union.” Caecilia’s tone is full of cold courtesy, devoid of any of the warmth she spoke to you with. 

“Gratitude Caecilia.” She bows her head, smiling wide before turning her attention to you, her eyebrow raising in a manner you do not like. “I must congratulate you as well, Lady Acacius, on trapping the General, and with a baby no less. Must be strange for you to be amongst such elevated company, and not be required to pour.” Her smile is sharp, and some of the other women tut, displeased with her rudeness. Your lashes fill with unshed tears, the stress of leaving your daughter, the absence of Marcus, being away from your house and your comfort turn the barbs into something bigger, something devastating. 

“That is no way to speak to Lady Acacius, especially not in my house.” Caecilia shoots back, quick and you’re grateful for her, the shock of rudeness has left you speechless. 

“Oh come now, it’s obvious. Man like him marries a slave and parades her around–”

“I seem to recall you wanting to be paraded by him.” Caecilia cuts her off, “I seem to recall you being rejected, twice.” Lavinia’s eyes widen, some of the other ladies laugh. 

“I recall that as well, I heard there was a rumour of a tantrum you threw to your father because Acacius did not want you.” Another of the girls says, half laughing and Lavinia's face goes red. The men return, speaking loudly, oblivious to the turmoil within and seeing Marcus surrounded by all those powerful men, knowing he is important, knowing he is respected and far beyond what you deserve makes you break. A tear falls down your cheek, your heart races and you feel like a caged bird, surrounded by walls. 

“Do not listen to her my Lady, she is only envious of you.” Caecilia wipes your tear away but Marcus is there, having noticed the red in your eyes. He frowns, crouching down to look you in the eye but there are so many people, too many watching and a shame fills your being, that you have embarrassed him, caused a scene and made him possibly regret his choices, regret you.

“My love-” His voice is soft, but Lavinia chimes in, unfettered by her scolding. 

“Congratulations to you Marcus, wife, slave and nutrix all rolled into one.” She smiles, but his eyes turn black with rage. 

“Your anger at my spurning you gives you no right to speak this way, if you think you have embarrassed me, or my wife you are sorely mistaken. The only thing you have done is prove that I was right to deny you. You are not fit to be in the same room as her, let alone look down your nose at her. Come, my Lady, let us retire to our home, and our child.” 

“Will you let him speak to me–”

“Quiet, Lavinia. Seems the rumours I heard of your feelings for General Acacius are true. Come, we will discuss this later. Let us away.” Her husband does not wait for her, instead she is made to run after him, tail tucked between her legs but it does not calm you. The whole scene, the whole spectacle only fills you with doubt. Perhaps he would have been better off with someone high-born, not some slave within his house. A cruel little part of you whispers that you were what was available, he is only with you because you were there.

He says nothing the whole way home, the anger in him is so big, so heavy it threads through your ribs, it squeezes at your heart and all you want to do it make yourself small, hideaway in your old chambers and cry, hold your daughter tightly and forget ever having left her. 

When he guides you inside the house the tears are heavy and hot on your face, flowing freely and he stops you. 

“My–”

“Please forgive me Dominus, I did not mean to embarrass you–” A strangled noise comes out of him, something wounded as you fall to your knees before him. When you look up he too has tears on his face. 

“I shall redeem myself, I swear to you.” You cry, reverting back to that timid little thing you’d been long ago but he falls to his knees right in front of you, holding your face with both of his hands. 

“Stop this!” His voice cracks, and you cover your face with your hands, another misstep, another failure. 

“My love stop this, I beg of you, I am not your Dominus, I am your husband and I love you.” He pulls your hands away, his eyes red with hurt and you cannot help but sob. 

“But I am beneath–”

“You are no such thing! You are everything to me, if anyone is not worthy, if anyone is blessed it is me! You cannot let the jealous barbs of a woman spurned make you question my love for you, you cannot let her and her black heart question your place. You are the Lady of this house, you are the mother of my child and you are the single most important person in my whole world. Please, please do not call me Dominus, I am not that, not to you.” Diana cries, a wail that pierces through the bubble of the two of you clutching at each other on the floor just inside the doorway. 

“Dominus, Domina–is something the matter? Shall I fetch a medicus?” The older woman looks terrified as she tries to soothe the baby, but Marcus waves her concern away.

“We will be retiring to bed early, we require food and drink to be brought and then no interruptions for the rest of the night. I do not care if the Emperor himself knocks on the door, no one is to disturb us.” He stands, gently pulling you up with him. With a shuddering breath, you take Diana into your arms, and retreat within the safety of your chambers. 

He helps you undress, careful to not disturb the child in your arms, wiping away at the errant tears  as he goes along. Once he too is comfortable, you both slip into the bed, Diana asleep between you.

With quiet, with food and drink and the reassuring rhythm of her breathing a different form of shame settles over you. Shame that you regressed, that you thought he would think differently of you because of what Lavinia had said, he had more than proven himself and his feelings since freeing you. 

“Marcus,” You reach over, caressing at the grey scruff on his cheeks “Forgive me, I do not know what came over me.” He sighs, cupping your hand against his face. 

“No, it is I who beg for your forgiveness. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go, not when I could see how hard it was for you to leave her.” He lowers his hand, holding onto Diana’s little foot. “I should have gone on my own, or refused the invitation, I should not have put you in that situation. Your comfort, your happiness–and hers are the only things that matter to me. I must remember that when duty calls.” His hand moves from her foot, to your face, cupping your cheek and sweeping his thumb just under your eye. 

“Forgive me.” He leans over, careful not to jostle the baby and presses a kiss to your mouth. You nod, not trusting your voice. The rest of the night is spent in quiet comfort, basking in and trusting in the love you both have for one another, and the being you created.

--

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name 

@zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker 

@tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue @ladylovesloki @alexiamargot06 @purple-fig @picketniffler @somedayheaven @flw3rrr @lizzie-cakes @bunnibitez @kluvspedro @bluesweaters15 @freyablack90 @frodofreakingbaggins @madnessofadaydreamer @iknowisoundcrazyreads @the-last-twin-of-krypton 

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Twelve

Summary: Interesting moments for Geta and the girl who is his.

Notes/Warnings: dated notions of religion, dated notions in relation to “god/s”, dated notions of talking in one’s sleep, a touch of angst, fluff. Took some liberties with history with the idea of a concubine, marriage. Enjoyed using some of inspiration of the myth of Eros and Psyche.

nutrix: An ancient Roman word for “wet nurse,” nanny. The ring is based on rings around that time. gallus: chicken

❤️s, feedback, comments, reblogs are always welcome! Ty for reading! Want to be tagged? Let me know!

The breeze was gentle as it blew through your hair as the horse you were on kept a good pace with Geta’s. The rain from the previous night was long forgotten along with the cloud of discontent that had fallen over Geta.

You were able to forget how the guard you had slapped the night gave you a lingering look when you had climbed up the animal.

“I am enjoying this.”

He looked over at you.

“Are you enjoying more than the last time you astride such a beast?”

“Yes. Grateful for the easiness of the stride. And I feel blessed to see all that Goddess Diana has bestowed on this land. It is beautiful.” You smiled.

“Yes, she has very giving. I feel the same. I am glad to be away from the dust of the city.”

Glancing over at Geta, you saw him look off into the distance. He looked truly at peace.

“It is also pleasing to not have to deal with senate and their infighting at times. Or worse, the ones to preen or grovel for my attentions.”

He chuckled, it was a rich and carefree sound. One you were still not completely accustomed to hearing. His face was soft with the good mood that has filled him.

“Caracalla can handle their attentions.”

You nodded, yet inwardly that worried you. His violent streaks scared you just as much as the more playful ones he shared with Dondas, while serving him, Geta & the general.

“Talk more to me blossom. I want to hear your lovely use of words.”

“The airs are sweet and fragrant as it swirls around us. Quintus, is pleased and proud to have you atop him. His gallop is strong and robust.”

A great warmth came over you as you spoke to him. You were reminded of the sweetness that had encircled the two of you, the mere night before.

“He’s a good horse. I’ve had him since he was a pony.”

Watching him, following his lead and it was not long till the horses slowing their pace.

You spotted a some of the guards, a flutter of unease fluttered in you. You knew they kept Geta safe; you don’t know how you felt about them. Well, perhaps it was just that one guard who made you nervous. You hoped he had not told the others slap.

The girls you would serve along side with, all talked. Some were not nice when you had arrived. They made sure you knew your place. If that be had not taken ill you would have never served in the arena.

Slaves appeared from the shrubbery and trees; they came forward and slowed the horses to a stop. They eagerly helped him down.

“Help her.”

Soon, they came over to you and wordlessly helped you down. None of them looked at you. He came over to you.

“We will sit over here and eat.”

You nodded and when you reached a rolled out carpet that had some platters of food. More than what your family would have had for weeks.

*******

He looked you over, the clothes hung wonderfully on you. You looked like a proper lady. It was giving him musings, perhaps once again Aphrodite was giving him a blessing.

A bird let out a call as he glided through the sky. He watched as you glanced up, your slips curling into a smile. Your eyes twinkled.

“Blossom?”

“Yes Geta?”

When you looked at him, his words ceased.

“Being here, reminds me of being a little girl.”

“Tell me about it.”

“With the soft green grass or firm brown dirt under my feet, I would run around. I’d love gathering flowers for shrines.”

The slice of pear you bit into was crisp. Watching the pleasure filled paused it gave you, drove him sink his own teeth into a slice.

You patted your lips before you continued.

“Since, I’ve always been small I would be the one check on eggs that would come from the gallus.”

He smiled. “So from checking on the state of a few gallus and their eggs, to pleasing me.”

You nodded, and a soft laugh came from you.

He paused, raising an eyebrow. The warmth, the feelings he had towards you were growing.

“At times, I would sing to them. They liked that.” You looked at him under your lashes. “That would please them too.”

“I do suppose I have picked someone special when I saw you.”

“Oh Geta.”

You splayed a hand across your face. It did not hide the dusting of rose that came to your cheeks.

“I wish to see you.”

Reaching over, he gently pulled your hand from your face. He caressed your cheek. The rose color deepened. These reactions he caused in you made him very happy.

A shadow fell over the two of you. Squinting, annoyed he looked up, moments later the smell of the man assaulted his nose. It was a member of his guards not cloud. His annoyance grew further.

“Sire. She didn’t slap you did she?”

He watched as the man swallowed.

“Do I need to handle her?”

“No, please leave my presence. You have blocked the sol.”

“Yes, sire. My apologies.”

With a clinking of armor he turned and left.

Once again the sol was bright once again shining down at the two of you. His annoyance began to evaporate, he glanced at you. All the color was gone. You were as pale as the clothes you wore.

“What is plaguing you?”

You blinked. “Geta?”

“You are the color of this.” He ran a finger along the material of one of your sleeve.

Something flickered in your eyes. He watched as you glanced around before you settled and met his eyes. You took a breath.

“Last night after returning to my room he gave me a look I didn’t appreciate. I asked him about it. He remarked that he was looking at the Emperor’s concubine so I slapped.”

You drew back.

He could not suppress the chuckle that rose up in him.

You were feisty. He would be deceiving himself, if he didn’t admit he found it refreshing.

“Geta?”

“You slapped one of my Praetorian Guards?”

“I did.” Your voice was low.

But how should he handle it with you, he wondered.

“I had said moments before I didn’t want anyone to catch sight of you;” He shrugged. “Tell me was it for the look or that he called you my concubine?”

“Both.”

“Interesting.” He stood, he spotted Gallus. “Come here.”

Gallus, came to attention and nodding he came over.

“Yes, sire?”

“Take a few of the men with you that you trust and bring that man here. Things may become rough.”

He made a fist and clapped his chest. “As you will it sire.”

He glanced down at you. “Stand.”

*********

Inwardly you felt yourself tremble. You couldn’t have lied to him it. But now you didn’t know what to do. Running away wasn’t an option.

Once you were standing you held your hands behind your back. While you watched Gallus gather some of the men, you wrung your hands.

“Geta.” You whispered.

“It can wait.”

You nodded. Yet, the slice words his sharp tone felt like a slap.

As your fingers found the bracelet the memory of him, the moment and other small moments did little to ease you.

You swallowed when they returned.

“Your sire called for my presence?”

“Yes.”

Glancing at Geta as he spoke, you noticed that his earth colored eyes had grown dark.

“I was informed that you called her my concubine.”

“I did.”

“Did someone tell you this or was this something you believed was the truth ?”

“Yes, sire I believed it to be the truth.”

Geta came over to you. “Give me your hand where the gift lays.”

You did as you were told.

He took your hand and showed your unmarred wrist. He let it go, then he moved swiftly behind easily you felt him behind.

“Don’t struggle.” He whispered close to ear. “Let us look at her.” He said in a much louder voice.

With a quick nimbleness he pealed a portion of your dress away from you.

“See there is no mark. I have made no formal announcement.”

He came out from behind you.

“I do not approve of your interaction with her. She belongs to me and as such, you are to be sent back to the city effective immediately. There you will accompany the last legion that is joining General Acacius in the fight for Numida.”

Your heart thudded; your feelings for Geta strengthened. You wished there were words you could express.

*******

His body felt like it did when the gods spoke through him to deliver justice in the arena. He knew they must be pleased with what he chose to do for you.

He felt different, he felt powerful.

*********

The sol was warm as its rays danced on your closed eyes. Stirring from sleep, you there was deep, even breathing. You smiled. Glancing in its direction, your vision was filled with Geta. Lying on his back, his chest which resembled great, magnificent statues not only those crafted in his image but those of the gods in the heavens.

It was not till you shifted, to rest your cheek in your hand that your fingers were close to his as they rested on his stomach.

“Was I talking?” His voice was deep from slumber.

“Oh? No it was Apollo’s sol that awoke me.”

“Good. Hoping those days don’t return.”

His eyes opened a sliver, as they caught yours.

“Caracalla, after having his moments of turmoil, he’ll sleep and murmur nothings.”

He exhaled, before continuing.

“My nutrix, said I was already talking to the gods.”

“I believe it. They followed, guided you the son of the emperor.”

A soft smile crossed his face.

“That is true. They made gave their aid, where they saw fit. Some difficulties were whispered of. So I knew they were there.”

He gently scratched his stomach, before he moved and to lay on his side as you were doing.

“At a young age, my toy figures and horses were already my subjects."

He reached, his fingertips grazed your brow as brushed an errant strand that fell into your face away.

“Your son, your future will know that as well.”

“He will.”

You watched as something came over his face. Quickly, he pulled back and left the bed.

“Geta? Did I…”

He returned before you could finish the question you had come to your lips.

He took your hand that had come to lay loosely on your side. His lips pressed against one of your knuckles. Almost the same moment, it felt as if butterflies had let loose within you.

“Eros took Psyche in his love, I have taken you. He took her away from the dreariness of existence and I did the same. I wish for you to be my wife. Will you be mine but now as a wife?”

“Geta.” You trembled as you breathed his name.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @laura-naruto-fan1998 @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld

[theegrandhorizontal]

Nutrix

[mask131]

About Tanit

I recently posted about how people should be looking more into other gods outside of the Greco-Roman pantheons. If you follow me for quite some times, you will also have noted I posted a bunch of loose translation from the French Dictionary of literary myths (which is truly a great reference). Well, I wanted to share with you today a loose translation – well, more of an info-mining at this point – of an article about a goddess that people often ignore the existence of, despite being located right next to Ancient Greece and Rome, and being involved in the history of the Roman Empire. And this goddess is Tanit.

Written by Ildiko Lorinszky, the article is organized in two – at first it takes a look and analysis at the mythological Tanit, at who and what she likely was, how her cult was organized all that. The second part, since it is a Dictionary of LITERARY myths, takes a look at the most prominent and famous depiction of Tanit in French literature – that is to say Flaubert’s famous Salammbô. (If you recalled, a long time ago I posted about how a journalist theorized in an article how Flaubert’s Salammbô was basically an “epic fantasy” novel a la Moorcock or Tolkien long before “fantasy” was even a genre)

Part 1: Tanit in mythology and archeology

Tanit was the patron-goddess of the city of Carthage. Considered to be one of the avatars o the Phoenician goddess Astarte, Tanit’s title, as found on several Punic engravings, was “The Face of Baal” – a qualification very close to how Astarte was called in Sidon and Ugarit “The Name of Baal”. These titles seem to indicate that these two goddesses acted as mediators or intermediaries between humanity and Baal.

Tanit is as such associated with Baal, the vegetation god, but sometimes she is his wife, other times she is simply his paredra (companion/female counterpart). She seems to be the female power accompanying the personification of masculinity that is Baal, and as such their relationship can evoke the one between Isis and Osiris: the youthful sap of the lunar goddess regularly regenerates the power of the god. This “nursing” or “nourishing” function of Tanit seems to have been highlighted by the title she received during the Roman era: the Ops, or the Nutrix, the “Nurse of Saturn”. Goddess of the strengthened earth, Tanit is deeply tied to agrarian rituals: her hierogamy with Baal reproduces in heaven the birth of seeds on earth. Within the sanctuaries of Tanit, men and women devoted to the goddess practiced a sacred prostitution in order to favorize the fecundity of nature. The women tied to the temple were called “nubile girls”, while the men working there were called “dogs” to highlight how completely enslaved they were to the goddess. We know that the prostitutes of both sexes brought important incomes to the temple/

The etymology of Tanit (whose name can also be called Tannit or Tinnit) is obscure. The most probable hypothesis is that the Phoenico-Punic theonym “Tnt” is tied to the verb “tny”, which was used in the Bible to mean “lamenting”, “wailing”, “crying”. According to this interpretation, the “tannît” is originally a “crier”, a “wailer”, and the full name of Tanit means “She who cries before Baal”. As such, the Carthaginian goddess might come from a same tradition as the “Venus lugens”.

According to some mythographers, Tanit (or Astarte) was the supreme goddess of Carthage, and might have been identical to the figures of Dido and Elissa. As in, Dido was in truth the celestial goddess, considered as the founder of the city and its first queen. According to this hypothesis, the suicide of Dido on a pyre was a pure invention of Virgil, who took this motif from various celebrations hosted at Carthage. During these feasts-days, images and depictions of the goddess were burned The word Anna would simply mean “clement”, “mild”, “merciful” – the famous Anna, sister of Dido, is thought to have been another Punic goddess, whose cult was brought from Carthage to Rome, and who there was confused with the roman Anna Perenna, a goddess similar to Venus. Varro claimed that it was not Dido that burned on the pyre, but Anna, and according to this angle, Anna appears as a double of Dido – and like her, she would be another manifestation of the goddess Tanit. Anna’s very name reminds of the name “Nanaia”/”Aine”, which was a title given to Mylitta, yet another manifestation of Tanit.

The sign known as the “sign” or “symbol of Tanit” seems to be a simplified depiction of the goddess with her arms open: it is a triangle (reduced to a trapezoid as the top of the triangle is cut) with an horizontal line at its top, an a disc above the horizontal line. This symbol appears throughout the Punic world on monuments, steles, ceramics and clay figurines.

Part 2: The literary Tanit of Flaubert

Gustave Flaubert’s novel Salammbô is probably where the goddess reappears with the most splendor in literature. While her essence is shown being omnipresent throughout the Punic world, Tanit, as the soul of the city, truly dwells within the town’s sanctuary, which keeps her sacred cloak. The veil of the goddess, desired by many, stolen then regained throughout the plot, plays a key role within the structure of this very enigmatic text, which presents itself as a “veiled narrative”.

The town and its lands are filled with the soul of the “Carthaginian Venus”. The countryside, for example, is filled with an erotic subtext, sometimes seducing, sometimes frightening – reflecting the ambiguity of the goddess. The landscape is all curves, softness, roundness, evoking the shapes of a female body – and the architecture of both the city-buildings and countryside-buildings are described in carnal ways. Within Salammbô, Flaubert describes a world where the spirit and the flesh are intertwined – the female world of Carthage is oppressed by an aura mixing lust with mysticism; and through the erotic nature creeps both a frightening sacred and an attractive morbidity. For death and destruction is coming upon Carthage.

The contradictory nature of the goddess appears as early as the very first scene of the novel, when the gardens of Hamilcar are described. The novel opens on a life-filled landscape: the gardens of the palace are a true Land of Eden, with an abundant vegetation filled with fertility symbols. The plants that are listed are not mere exotic ornaments: they all bear symbolic and mythological connotations. The fig-tree, symbol of abundance and fecundity ; the sycamore, “living body of Hathor”, the tree of the Egyptian moon-goddess ; the grenade, symbol of fertility due to its multiple seeds ; the pine tree, linked to Attis the lover of Cybele ; the cypress, Artemis’ tree ; the lily, which whose perfume was said to be an aphrodisiac ; the vine-grapes and the rose… All those plants are linked to the moon, that the Carthaginian religion associated with Tanit. Most of these symbols, however, have a macabre touch reflecting the dark side of the goddess. The cypress, the “tree of life”, is also a funeral tree linked to the underworld ; the coral is said to be the same red as blood, and was supposedly born from the blood-drops of Medusa ; the lily symbolizes temptation and the unavoidable attraction of the world of the dead ; the fig-tree just like the grenade have a negative side tied to sterility… The flora of this passage, mixing benevolent and malevolent attributes, already depict a world of coexisting and yet opposed principles: fertility cannot exist without sterility, and death is always followed by a renewal. The garden’s description introduces in the text the very cycles of nature, while also bringing up the first signs of the ambivalence that dominates the story.

The same union of opposites is found within the mysterious persona of Tanit. The prayer of Salammbô (which was designed to evoke Lucius’ lamentations to Isis within Apuleius’ Metamorphosis) first describes a benevolent goddess of the moon, who fecundates the world : “How you turn, slowly, supported by the impalpable ether! It polishes itself around you, and it is the movement of your agitation that distributes the winds and the fecund dews. It is as you grow and decrease that the eyes of the cats and the spots of the panthers lengthen or shrink. The wives scream your name in the pains of labor! You inflate the sea-shells! You make the wines boil! […] And all seeds, o goddess, ferment within the dark depths of your humidity.” As a goddess presiding to the process of fermentation, Tanit is also tied to the principle of death – because it is her that makes corpses rot.

The Carthaginian Venus appears sometimes as an hermaphrodite divinity, but with a prevalence and dominance of her feminine aspect. Other times, she appears as just one of two distinct divinity, the female manifestation in couple with a male principle. Tanit synthetizes within her the main aspects of all the great moon-goddesses: Hathor, Ishtar, Isis, Astarte, Anaitis... All are supposed to have an omnipotence when it comes to the vegetal life. Mistress of the elements, Tanit can be linked to the Mother-Earth : for the character of Salammbô, the cloak of the goddess will appear as the veil of nature. The daughter of Hamilcar is linked in a quite mysterious way to Tanit – for she is both a frightened follower of the goddess, and the deity’s incarnation. Described as “pale” and “light” as the moon, she is said to be influenced by the celestial body: in the third chapter, it is explained that Salammbô weakened every time the moon waned, and that while she was languishing during the day, she strengthened herself by nightfall – with an additional mention that she almost died during an eclipse. Flaubert ties together his heroine’s traits with the very name “Salammbô”, which is a reminiscence of the funeral love of Astarte: “Astarte cries for Adonis, an immense grief weighs upon her. She searches. Salmmbô has a vague and mournful love”. According to Michelet’s explanations, “Salambo”, the “love name” of Astarte, is meant to evoke a “mad, dismal and furious flute, which was played during burials”.

As a character embodying Tanit, Salammbô is associated with the two animals that were sacred to the goddess: the holy fishes, and the python snake, also called “the house-spirit”. Upon the “day of the vengeance”, when Mâtho, the scape-goat, is charged with all the crimes of the mercenaries, she appears under the identity of Dercéto, the “fish-woman”. The very detailed costumes of Salammbô contain motifs borrowed to other goddesses that are avatars of Tanit. By using other goddesses, Flaubert widens the range of shapes the lunar goddess can appear with, while also bringing several mythical tales, whose scattered fragments infiltrate themselves within the novel. When she welcomes her father, Salammbô wears around her neck “two small quadrangular plates of gold depicting a woman between two lions ; and her costume reproduced fully the outfit of the goddess”. The goddess depicted here is Cybele, the passionate lover of Attis, the young Phrygian shepherd. This love story that ends in mutilations bears several analogies with the fatal love between Salammbô and the Lybian leader. And the motif of the mutilation is one of the key-images of the novel.

A fish-woman, like Dercéto, Salmmbô is also a dove-woman, reminding of Semiramis ; but more so, she is a snake-woman, linked mysteriously to the python. Before uniting herself with Mâtho (who is identified to Moloch), Salammbô unites herself with the snake that incarnates the lunar goddess in her hermaphroditic shape. It is the python that initiates Salammbô to the mysteries, revealing to Hamilcar’s daughter the unbreakable bond between eroticism and holiness. In the first drafts of the novel, Salammbô was a priestess of Tanit, but in the final story, Flaubert chose to have her father denying her access to the priesthood. So, she rather becomes a priestess under Mathô’s tent: using the zaïmph, she practices a sacred prostitution. The union of Hamilcar’s daughter and of the leader of the mercenaries reproduces the hierogamy of Tanit and Moloch.

Salammbô, confused with Tanit, is also victim of the jealous Rabbet. Obsessed with discovering the face of the goddess hidden under the veil, she joins the ranks of all those female characters who curiosity leads to the transgression of a divine rule (Eve, Pandora, Psyche, Semele). And, in a way, the story of Mathô and Salammbô reproduces this same story: the desire to see, the desire for knowledge, always leads to an ineluctable death.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter XLVI

Your parents attend the naming ritual of your child. You overhear something not meant for your ears.

Chapter list

You wake with the timbre of a voice you’d rather not hear, and when you sit up in bed, you find both Quintus’ side of the bed as well as the bassinet empty. Panic shunts through your chest for the briefest of moments before you force it down, a feeling of dread taking its place. You slide out of bed, shrug on a robe and move to head downstairs to go and see your son, but a servant halts you in your tracks. 

“Deborah?” you ask when she puts a hand on your arm, and she shakes her head, nodding towards the bathroom. 

“Your parents are here, my lady,” she explains, “Please, let me help you dress properly to greet them.” 

A shrill cry drifts up the stairs and you immediately tense, your entire being wanting to push her aside and rush down to the infant’s aid, but you know nothing good will come of it. “My parents… Okay,” you go against your instincts, “But quickly. I want to see my child.” 

Although you do not mean to be impatient, you rush through the process of getting dressed, not even bothering applying perfume and muttering only a half-hearted word of thanks in the servant’s direction before you hurry down the stairs, where your father is already holding your unnamed child in his arms, assessing it like it were an animal for ritual sacrifice. Your mother stands at his side, looking past his arm with more life in her eyes than you’ve seen in a long time, and she is the first to notice you. 

“(Y/n),” she whispers, both your father and your husband becoming only just now aware of your presence, and you give her a small nod in greeting. She rushes over to you to pull you into a tight embrace, your eyes widening at the odd and unfamiliar sensation. You are almost inclined to ask her what is going on with her, but instead, you wrap your arms around her. “I am so proud of you, my daughter.” 

“Thank you, mater.” You can sense your father’s gaze on you and you swallow hard, patting your mother’s shoulder a little awkwardly before she pulls away, looking up at you with tearful eyes. 

“You did well. Your son is beautiful.” 

You smile softly, more genuine this time when you realise that this is the first moment of true contact you’ve had with her in ages, and almost curtsy at the compliment. “Thank you,” you repeat. 

Clearing his throat, your father holds your wailing child out to you. “It would appear that he is hungry.” 

Of course that has to be the first thing he says to you after you’ve just given birth, you bitterly think to yourself as you take the baby from his grip and look at Quintus, who gestures all of you towards the lounge. 

“Haven’t you considered getting yourself a nutrix?” your father’s tone is a little condescending when you lay down on one of the sofas to get your child to drink. 

“I don’t need a wet nurse,” you mutter, “I can feed my child by myself.” 

Letting out a sigh, your father sits down across from you. Quintus orders a servant to bring wine. 

“Congratulations,” your father says at last, and you have to prevent yourself from snorting a laugh at how stupid it sounds now that he mutters it so emotionlessly and after talking down on your decisions beforehand. You hum absentmindedly and wipe the baby’s chin with a rag. 

“It appears… Poor.” Your father goes back to the previous topic within a beat. “You don’t want to appear ordinary, do you?” 

“What?” you quip, “Just because I choose to feed my child myself? It strengthens my bond with him.” 

“You and your siblings had wet nurses, so that your mother could go back to managing the household.” 

“Yeah, I can tell.” Your gaze flickers over to your mother, then back to your father. No matter that you have only been recovering for just a little over a week, you still refuse to take what your father says for absolute truth.

The servant breaks your line of sight as she steps between you and your father to place cups of wine down on the table. Even though you can tolerate the red liquid again, you aren’t necessarily fond of it now that you’re still exhausted from labour. You reckon you need to learn how to drink wine after your pregnancy, needing to get used to the taste again. 

“You could have told me they were coming over,” you say when Quintus sits next to you. You readjust the blanket draped over your breast as if he is not allowed to see. You don’t like being so exposed around him.

“I sent them a letter mere hours after labour.” That answer doesn’t say a thing regarding what you had asked about, but you decide to drop it. Your son is done drinking and contently nuzzles against your warm skin. You inspect his face. He’s got the same dent in the tip of his nose that Atticus has. You bet Quintus hates it.

Your mother smiles at the gentle scene in front of her. “We wouldn’t miss your son’s day of purification, of course!” she beams.

Pater lets out a huff of annoyance. “Unlike your brother Lucius, who refuses to answer my letters.” Part of you is relieved that at least it means that your older brother knows of the healthy birth of your child, but you are also a little disappointed that he couldn’t make it here today. “Sure, Lucilla is sick, but isn’t your sister’s firstborn son more important than some second-born girl?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the disdain in his voice rubbing you the wrong way. “I get it,” you say, “I wouldn’t want to travel all the way from the Peninsula Italia with two little children, either. The journey is perilous. I’m certain that he will meet my son in due time.” 

“Our son,” Quintus reminds you, and you give him a look, feigning a smile as he cradles the back of your neck with a strong hand.

“Of course, that’s what I meant,” you say shortly. 

“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” your mother asks, not picking up on the tense ambiance in the room. You hum and nod, tracing the baby’s chubby cheek with your finger. 

“I am.” 

“Have you picked a name yet?” 

You can feel Quintus grit his teeth next to you. He had been adamant about naming it after himself to some extent, but you made him aware of your promise to your brother in the days after his wife’s passing. Quintus still craved to be perceived as an important, honourable man. Should he force his wife to break a promise to her brother, who is a powerful man himself, it could make him look bad to the public eye. Once you told him about this pact with your brother, he agreed to giving the child the name you had chosen for it. It was the sole thing he let you have. And strangely enough, you felt a weird sense of gratitude, even though you knew it was misplaced, as if you owed it to the Praetor.

“We have,” you respond with little emotion in your tone. Your mother hums and watches how you interact with the baby. You doubt that she has ever been this affectionate towards you and your siblings. You cannot recall her ever snuggling with either Marius or Julia, and you had been old enough to remember if she did. 

You take a sip of wine, this one more pleasant than your previous cup last night at dinner, and you sigh deeply as you attempt to focus on your child. Not necessarily keen on interacting with your parents so much, you barely listen when Quintus strikes up a bit of awkward conversation. Your mind runs amok with countless other things that do not involve business by a long shot. Your son wriggles in your arms and you shift to help him get rid of the air swallowed whilst drinking. Your mother’s eyes rest on you whilst the men talk about work, and you cannot help but feel a foreign, uncommon sense of connection between you and her. 

Even though you haven’t been here for long, exhaustion soon forces you to yawn behind your hand. Quintus turns to you, giving you a look. “Are you tired already?” 

“I haven’t recovered yet in the first place,” you remind him, “I think I’m going to rest for a bit upstairs.” 

“Very well,” Quintus agrees, “Do be careful. I’ll send a servant to prepare you some breakfast.” 

You curtsy at your parents before leaving the room, your son in your arms as you take him further away from the two very men you don’t want him to be around, and you find yourself in your personal study, where the stains from your labour are still a little visible. “Would you like me to draw you a warm bath, my lady?” Deborah suggests, not at all put off by your cold behaviour earlier this morning. 

“That would be wonderful,” you breathe in gratitude, gently laying the baby to rest in the bassinet as you start to undress despite just washing up about half an hour ago. You inspect your own body in front of the large mirror standing against the wall as you wait for the bath to be ready, inspecting the changes you have gone through. Your arms and legs have grown firmer, your chest larger and your tummy hasn’t exactly bounced back. Honestly, you still look like you’re pregnant, and you inspect the stretch marks across your skin with careful fingers when Deborah comes to fetch you. 

“They say that rubbing in olive oil helps with the scarring,” she says, “At least, that is what my sister did when she had her daughter and it helped her.” 

You hum and shrug a bit. “I will give it some thought. I feel like it shouldn’t matter, provided I’ve just grown a full human inside my womb.” 

Deborah smiles a little. “You have a good point there, my lady. Come, I’ll help you sit down. I’ve added some herbs to help you calm down and I’ll see what I can do about a good meal to help you restore your strength.” 

You sigh as you sink into the warm water, appreciating the peace and quiet for a bit, listening to the occasional sounds drifting from the bassinet, forcing yourself to eat the eggs and honeycomb brought to you a few minutes later.

—

Atticus finds himself in Jerusalem on his bi-weekly trip to the post office. As he travels far and wide, he cannot afford to visit too often, for answering mail proves to be a costly endeavour when it comes to time itself. The clerk gives him a smile of recognition and turns to fetch everything that came in for him without the cohortes even having to state his name.

“Greetings, sir. There is actually quite a bit of correspondence sent your way these past weeks.” 

“Really?” 

The clerk nods and hands seven letters over to the marshall, who lets out a small noise. “Phew, alright. Thank you very much once again.” He tips the clerk and shoves the rolls of sealed parchment into his bag, heading towards a more remote area around the outskirts of the city, where he has hitched his horse. 

He feeds her a carrot he had purchased at the market on his way into the city and starts to sift through the received letters. Business, an invite for some Senator’s event, and… Gaius’ seal. Twice, signed with dates only a few days apart. His heart suddenly sits uneasily tight inside his chest. 

He breaks the seal of the oldest letter first, unfurling it as he reads over the contents. Atticus feels his blood run cold at the revelation of what has taken place at Capernaum: Quintus is aware of the affair. It takes every fibre in Atticus’ being to not drop the letter and set out for the fishing village right away, knowing that his presence would bring you into danger so shortly after being discovered. His face feels pale, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth uncomfortably as worry floods his chest. 

Running a hand down his face, the investigator attempts to calm his racing heart. Knowing Quintus, the Praetor must have been livid, most likely put his hands on you, and threatened to kill you. Then again, it wouldn’t be beyond the magistrate to just… 

…The second letter. Atticus doesn’t care about the apple falling out of his bag as he pulls out the other roll of parchment from Gaius in haste, his horse chasing it instead. Absentmindedly, Atticus pats her neck to prevent her from running off as he breaks the seal hurriedly, blood rushing inside his ears as he unrolls it and starts to read—

—You’re alive. And you’ve given birth to a healthy boy. 

Relief hits Atticus square in his chest, a breath leaving him as he has to hold onto the saddle of his horse lest he topple over at how weak his knees suddenly feel. Sudden shame makes his head hammer painfully. 

He should have been there, he thinks to himself, to support you through your labour. Even though he is well aware that he would never have been able to stand at your side through it all, holding your hand and comforting you at this vulnerable time, he can hardly believe he was just going about his day whilst you were back at Capernaum, going through the most dangerous moment of your life.

“Thank the gods,” he whispers to himself more than to the actual deities, “I’m a father.” He lets out a small noise and grins, covering his mouth to keep from looking like a lunatic, “I’ve got a son!” 

He laughs to himself, turning to his horse. “Did you hear that, girl? I’ve got a son!” The steed replies by munching what remains of the apple fallen to the ground, blinking at him cluelessly. Atticus hums and pats the mare’s neck before turning his gaze to the road, towards the direction where he knows Capernaum to be. 

His shoulders sag a bit. “Not yet,” he whispers, a pained edge to his tone, “I can’t go yet…” Unless Jesus of Nazareth is on his agenda again, he cannot risk being seen around Capernaum without a decent excuse to be there. If Quintus found out he is there without any watertight alibi… The magistrate is a fickle man, and Atticus cannot risk your safety. 

What he can do, however, is send a letter back to Gaius so that he can hand it to you. It is the bare minimum, Atticus feels like, but it is the only way to keep in touch with you right now. 

With a long sigh, he searches the saddle bag for writing materials, getting ready to write a letter back to you, even though everything in his being screams to go and see you.

—

Your son is swaddled in white and smells like myrtle when he is handed back to you after his ritual bath. You sniffle, fighting back the annoyance in your expression at the heavy scent of incense lingering around the house as you ascend the stairs, where the atrium has been transformed into something akin to a temple, with an altar in the centre, the only Roman priest stationed in Capernaum already present. 

Quintus is praying to the lares and penates in the hopes of finding their favour as your mother has turned her prayers towards Vesta. Your heart clenches inside your chest at the sight, your mind opting for the Lord’s Prayer instead. In thought, you pray quietly to Adonai, the words you have started to learn by heart by now, until you feel confident enough to mentally pray to Him with words of your own. 

“Father God, I do not deserve it but please let Your blessings and your mercy be on my child, whom You have given me. Help me guide him through life and tell him about Your guiding light, about Your forgiveness and salvation, so that he may be saved through You the same way You have called me. Help me to overcome the hardships of my life so that I may be with You—” 

“—(Y/n).”

You are pulled from the prayer inside your head as your father calls your name, the entire room having their eyes on you. You realise that you have been called to stand up and you do, clearing your throat as your parents and husband turn to the priest to listen to the prayers he is reciting. 

Looking down at your son, you do not pay attention to what the priest is chanting, instead finish your prayer inside your mind. “That the words uttered over this child by these following false gods may be replaced by Your everlasting love and Truth.”

The priest approaches you and halts in front of you, thumbing a circle of so-called blessed water over the babe’s forehead. The child squirms a little in your arms as the priest touches him, a prayer you don’t stand behind leaving the priest’s lips. Mentally, you speak God’s Truth over your child.

As he gestures at Quintus, the magistrate straightens his back and steps forward to take your son from your arms, presenting him to your parents as he declares the name of the boy loud and clear, as you had agreed upon.

“I name this boy Valerius, and receive him into our family.” 

You can see the flash of disapproval in your father’s ever-judging gaze and you ignore the glare he directs your way. Your mother claps her hands happily instead and lets out a gentle noise. “May he thrive! May Valerius be fortunate!” 

“May Valerius be strong and prosperous,” your father half-heartedly blesses, but then softens and clears his throat, “That he may become a powerful man, to grow in fortune and honour, like his father and grandfather.” 

You force a smile over your lips and take the fussy babe from your husband, glad to finally call him by the name you had known to belong to him ever since making Lucius the promise of naming your child after his late wife. Quintus moves to tie a bulla around Valerius’ neck, a protective amulet that looks almost silly on him, seeing how large it is. As he pulls his hands away, you touch the small pendant, having to resist the urge to rip it off. 

These gods have nothing for your child.

“And now,” Quintus declares, “It is time for a feast!” 

Your parents go to your sides as the priest tidies up the laver to both look at their grandson they now know the name of. “Valerius,” your mother sighs, “I love that name!” There is something about her cheerful mood that makes you wonder how different things would have been if your father had not been so controlling. 

“After that liberal girl our oldest son was married to?” Your father grits his teeth as he glares at his wife, “Why would you think that is a good idea? You should have named him Flavius, after me! Or maybe even Gaius, since he is the firstborn son of their family! But Valerius? We don’t even have someone with that name in our bloodline!” 

“Well, now we do,” you dryly state. “Mother, would you like to hold him?” 

You successfully divert the topic of conversation to your mother ushering you to a nearby sofa to have her cradle her youngest grandson happily in her arms, and you keep a watchful eye over the scene as you sense Quintus observing you from a distance. You force a smile over your lips as you listen to your mother babble on about how delighted she is to become a grandmother to another child once again. 

“Here,” your father pushes a goblet of herbal wine into your hands and you feel obliged to take it, giving him a small hum of thanks as you sip the liquid. Although you do not like the way it lingers on your tongue and stings down your throat, you must admit that your tolerance for the buzz that it brings to your mind has lowered as much as your appetite for the stuff. Perhaps that is just what you need right now, you think to yourself as you pretend to listen to your mater whilst the servants bring out the food. 

A few centurions and soldiers come in to join the festivities, prompting you to take up your son again and join Quintus at the door where the guests pour into the room to receive the many wishes and words of congratulations directed your way. With every blessing or ritual chanted over the babe in your arms, you counter it with a short, silent prayer inside your mind.

“Your father asked me why I agreed on the name you chose,” your husband leans closer to whisper in your ear as you shake the hand of a senator whom you’ve seen around the Roman Quarter once or twice, “He’s not pleased at all, and now he blames it on me. Couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut around your brother?” 

“He’ll come around,” you mutter, although you doubt that he will. Quintus grunts dubiously, not convinced either. 

The day drags on slowly, with all kinds of gifts and blessings being presented to you and your newborn child, which you accept with half-hearted words of thanks. Even Cecilia congratulates you with an envious sneer on her face as she glances at the image of your pretend family. It is surprising how often the sentence ‘you can have him’ forms on your tongue whenever she looks at Quintus. It’s his status that draws her to him, you know. You pity her for it. 

When your pater suddenly nudges your husband’s arm, the Praetor looks up from the sleeping babe in your gentle hands with a questioning look on his face. “Yes?” 

Flavius’ gaze goes to you, then back to Quintus. “A word?” 

There is a certain glint in the elderly senator’s eyes that you do not like in the slightest. Usually, he doesn’t call Quintus away from your side to discuss business, so it is suspicious that he wants to see him in private. 

Unless it involves you.

You swallow hard and watch them take their leave, and as soon as the last visible flash of umber from your father’s robes disappears into the hallway, you swiftly turn to hand Valerius to the nearest servant. “Look after him for a moment, please,” you breathe without any further explanation, rushing after where your father and husband had disappeared towards. 

There aren’t a lot of rooms to go from here, for the kitchen is crowded and the other lounge is open for the guests celebrating Valerius’ purification day. It leaves the small home study, which has found a different purpose as a storage room ever since you moved in, and you hurry over to the door in the hopes to catch the smallest sliver of what they might be discussing inside. 

Much to your dismay, the conversation has been going on for a bit, making you miss the topic itself. Still, your blood runs cold at what you do indeed hear. 

“…It has been arranged,” your father says, “Marcella agreed to it as well.” As if your mother had any say in anything going about in that household, you bitterly think to yourself as you perk up your ears a little better, putting your hand over the one pointed at the business going on inside the room to block out the noise of laughter and chatter. 

“…She won’t be happy about it.” Flavius says.

“Does it matter?” Quintus answers with an edge to his voice that makes the hairs of your neck stand on end, “What matters is her safety, not what she wants.”

Brief silence. You hold your breath, having to resist the urge to press your ear against the door lest you miss the smallest whispers. 

Your father lets out a long sigh. “You’re right, Quintus. I will send word whenever things are ready.” 

“Good.” Quintus sounds content. “Then we’re done here. We need to head back to the party before we are missed.” 

As footsteps approach the door, you rush back towards the room where you had been holding the baby whilst chatting with the other Roman citizens, quickly taking your son back into your arms as he seeks out your comfort with clenching and unclenching fists, immediately settling down whenever he smells your familiar scent. You shush him, rocking him a bit as you press a soft kiss to the soft fuzz on the top of his head, right in time as Flavius and Quintus enter again.

“There you are,” Quintus muses, causing you to feign a smile as your mind spins with all possible scenarios of what they might have discussed in there. 

“You weren’t gone too long,” you breathe with a certain high-pitched air to your voice, and Quintus frowns at the strange intonation. You clear your throat and straighten your back. “Is everything alright?” 

The Praetor hums and nods slowly. “Yes,” he states, “All is well.” He squeezes your waist and leaves you in favour of the buffet without another word. As you let out a shaky sigh, you attempt to calm your nerves.

Evening falls and the magistrate’s villa slowly falls into a state of peace and quiet, unlike your thoughts. Your father is snoozing drunkenly in one of the chairs whilst your mother has fallen back into her usual sullen mood, staring at the man she married with a line in her brow that you recognise all too well. 

Part of you wants to approach her, to ask what they might have decided about you that required her consent. There is no scenario you can think of that would need her opinion, so the conversation between your father and husband makes little sense. 

Valerius decides you cannot inquire. He throws up over your dress, forcing you to excuse yourself upstairs to clean up and give both your son and yourself a new outfit for the rest of the night. When you return, both your parents have retreated to the guest room, leaving only you and Quintus in the silence ringing inside your ears. 

“Time for bed.” Quintus states matter-of-factly. “Are you coming?” 

“Yes,” you say, shifting Valerius from one arm onto the other, wordlessly following him back to the room you had just left. You set your son into the bassinet, watching at the foot of the crib how he wriggles around for a bit until he falls asleep. Reaching forward, you take the amulet from his neck, putting it aside. 

“Why did you take off his bulla?” Quintus asks in a state of undress, “He needs the gods’ protection.” When you don’t respond, he narrows his gaze, stepping closer to you. The wine on his breath makes you feel queasy. 

“Don’t tell me this is about that Jesus of Nazareth.” He takes the amulet and moves to put it back around the baby, but in a wave of instinct, you grab his wrist, roughly, with a fire in your eyes that Quintus does not recognise. 

“You want our son to suffocate on the string?” you hiss, “Choke himself by accident when he rolls over?” 

The two of you maintain eye-contact for a long, tense beat. For the first time ever, Quintus is the one to look away. Your logical answer made sense, no matter that it wasn’t the only reason you removed that spiritually dangerous item from the neck of your son. 

The Praetor says nothing more, puts down the amulet and drags himself over to his side of the bed. He doesn’t wait for you to lay down as he snuffs out the candle on his nightstand, leaving you in the single flame flickering low on the other end of the wall. For a few long moments, you watch him draw the blankets over himself before you rest a protective hand over Valerius’ body, momentarily saying yet another prayer inside your mind as you get ready for bed.

---

Next chapter Chapter list

[fragbot]

NURSE: The Colchians are gone, your husband is faithless, you had such power once, but nothing is left for you. MEDEA: Medea is left. Here you see ocean and earth and iron and fire and gods and thunderbolts. NUTRIX: Abiere Colchi, coniugis nulla est fides nihilque superest opibus e tantis tibi. MEDEA: Medea superest: hic mare et terras uides ferrumque et ignes et deos et fulmina.

- Seneca, Medea 164-167; my translation

[turangalila]

Josquin Des Prez (c.1440-1521)

— Illibata Dei Virgo nutrix — Gaude Virgo, Mater Christi — Salve Regina

— Illibata Dei Virgo nutrix Illibata Dei virgo nutrix / Olympi tu regis o genitrix / Sola parens verbi puerpera / Quae fuisti Evae reparatrix / Viri nephas tuta mediatrix / Illud clara luce dat scriptura / Nata nati alma genitura / Des ut laeta musarum factura / Prevaleat hymnus et sit ave / Roborando sonos ut guttura / Efflagitent laude teque pura / Zelotica arte clament Ave. // Ave virginum decus hominum / Coelique porta / Ave lilium, flos humilium / Virgo decora. / Vale ergo tota pulchra ut luna / Electa ut sol, clarissima gaude. / Salve tu sola cum sola amica, / Consola "la mi la" canentes in tua laude. / Ave Maria, mater virtutum, / Veniae vena, ave Maria, / Gratia plena, Dominus tecum, / Ave Maria, mater virtutum. / Amen.

— Gaude Virgo, Mater Christi Gaude, virgo mater Christi, / Quae per aurem concepisti, / Gabriele nuntio. // Gaude, quia Deo plena / Peperisti sine poena, / Cum pudoris lilio. // Gaude, quia tui nati / Quem dolebas mortem pati, / Fulget resurrectio. // Gaude Christo ascendente, / Et in coelum te vidente, / Motu fertur proprio. // Gaude quae post ipsum scandis, / Et est honor tibi grandis, / In caeli palatio. // Ubi fructus ventris tui, / Nobis detur per te frui, / In perenni gaudio. / Alleluia.

— Salve Regina (5vv)

_ Josquin Des Prez: Missa "Ave Maris Stella" / Motets & Chansons Taverner Consort & Choir, Andrew Parrott. Andrew Lawrence-King, (1993, EMI Classics – 0777 7 54659 2 1)

[drops-of-moonlights]

If you were to one day introduce all comic transformations into your AU, what abilities and features would you give them ?

So I've answered a similar ask before, but I can't be assed to go look for it lmao. Some of the comic forms ARE in the AU already, just under different names - Anthesix is Greenix, Glissandix is Magic Rock, and both Travelix and Magic of Joy are in the "theoretically they exist but no one has earned them yet" category as Travelix and Jubilix/Tragedix. That leaves us with Magic of Food, Magic of Sports and Paintix to work with. With that said, do I think each of thse would happen? not really. but if they did:

Nutrix, which I'm sure it's the name of a cereal bar somewhere in the world, would be the forme of food. it'd probably look similar to how it does in comic canon (stylization of the food in question) and it's powers would be used mainly as extra help with crops and cattle.

Athletix, the forme of sports, would probably be considered illegal as it it heightens your performance and it would be basically doing drugs in the eyes of most competitions lol.

Creatix, the forme of creativity, would probably be the same as Athletix and be considered "cheating" because it heightens your creative output, regardless of what that is. Okay maybe not cheating per sé but it would basically be the crunch form and so it would be looked down upon.

[fimproda]

The Capital of the Day Court in Sol niger

My uncle has just posted this picture on the family chat. This is Gaeta, the city I was born in and where I basically spent the first 10 years of my life, seeing as I attended kindergarten and elementary school there (instead of in the city I still live in and where I later attended middle and high school) since my grandma lived near the school building.

There are many things to be said about Gaeta. For starters, its name comes from Cajeta or Caieta, a character from Virgil's Aeneid; I can actually cite the verses by memory: Tu quoque litoribus nostris, Aeneia nutrix, aeternam moriens famam, Caieta, dedisti. (By dying, you gave our shores, o Caieta, Aeneas's wet nurse, eternal fame.)

It was then mentioned in the Divine Comedy by Ulysses in Inferno, if I recall correctly, which also explains why this whole part of Southern Lazio is called Riviera di Ulisse.

It was famously the city Pious IX sequestered himself into when the Church State was threatened by the 1848 rebellion, and, soon after, became the last Borbone stronghold left standing that the advancing Savoia army needed to conquer to finally establish a united Italian state.

I've always loved the history and culture of this wonderful city, literally ever since the day I was born. (The hospital even has a breathtaking view of the sea, for Heaven's sake.)

And I mean, just look at it. Ain't she a beaut?

Tell me you don't picture Helion's palace stretching all the way along that promontory. I won't believe you.

So, yeah: from now on, the Capital of the Day Court, the City of Daylight, will be named Caieta.

(Or Cajeta, I still need to decide. What would you prefer? Should I do a poll?)

[worldendsin2012]

nutrix

[theegrandhorizontal]