#The Two-Faced God Janus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perlelune · 3 months

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | x.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Disbelief shimmers in William’s green gaze.

“You’re joking…” He cradles your face, searching your eyes. They are steadily filling with tears. He releases you, retreating as his face distorts with shock. “You’re…not?” He runs his fingers through his brown locks. “God, I’m such an idiot.” He unleashes a humorless laugh. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Your stomach sinks.

“This entire time. I waited for you. I trusted you. And you just…What? A-Are you with him now?” The betrayal quivering in his tone shatters your heart to pieces.

You lower your head and mumble, “It’s complicated…”

“No it’s not. It’s actually quite simple. Do you love him or do you love me? Do you want to marry me or do you want to marry him?”

William’s anger and frustration coat the air, his voice growing louder with every word. You tremble. Your fiancé’s never yelled at you like this before. You’ve argued, of course, like every couple does. But never like this. And never has he looked at you like that. Like you’re a stranger. You wish the earth would open up and swallow you.

“I…”

“Answer me!”

You jolt and step back, the heel of your shoe hitting the bottom of the stairs.

Your father appears in the corner of your vision. An exhale of surprise leaves you. He wedges himself between you and William.

“Do not dare raise your voice at my daughter, young man,” Strabo thunders. You gape at his back. It’s the first time you’ve heard your dad use such a furious tone of voice.

William lifts his hands defensively.

“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand-”

“I think it’s best if you go. Now,” your father urges, pointing at the door.

Your fiancé’s shoulders sag. He tosses you one last, heavy look, his jaw clenching.

“Yeah, maybe it’s for the best,” he belatedly grits out.

The second William slams the door shut, you’re in your father’s arms. The fat tears rolling down your cheeks drench his shirt.

“Dad…”

“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”

He rubs soothing circles on your back as you bury your head in his chest. You sniffle as a sob spills from your throat.

You doubt anything will ever be okay.

The rest of the day is spent in your room weeping underneath your blankets. It’s a wonder there’s any water left in your body, the ceaseless flow of tears soaking your pillows and sheets. Ma and Dad keep visiting your room, bringing you food and trying their best to lighten your spirits.

But nothing can keep you from drowning in your sorrows. William was the best thing that ever happened to you. You remember when you first met him at the University. The two of you were paired for a project and ended up hitting it off while working together. You didn’t even expect him to ask you out. It was no secret half the girls in your cohort harbored a crush on him. And with his boyish charm and outgoing personality, a contrast to your more withdrawn, lonely nature, you never imagined he’d seek your company past the project.

But he did, constantly finding lame excuses to talk to you like asking for your notes on a class or lying about needing a pen for a quizz. One thing led to another and, after a few months of courting, he got on one knee and asked for your hand.

Then Janus died. Your world collapsed. Colors dimmed around you. Everything stopped making sense. Still…William did. Whenever you were around him, you could pretend away your grief, laugh away your pain.

Your heart wasn’t so broken.

And now…you don’t think it’ll ever be put back together.

For days on end, you don’t leave your bed. The sun rises; it sets. Yet the same pains shackle you to your bedroom. Quicksands of guilt and sorrow suffocate you.

…Until you’re swept by a sickness one day.

It happens a little under a week after your return. You rush to your bathroom and pitch forward, dry heaving the near vacant contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. You then huddle on the floor, hugging your stomach as pain pulses through your midriff. Your brows collide in confusion. Hardly a bite of anything has crossed past your lips these days, as you only chewed on a few glum bites of the meals Ma brought to your room. Yet you are nauseous, cramps twisting your insides.

You bolt upward, racing to the toilet bowl again as another surge of queasiness takes you. Following that, you crash into a heap on the floor. Shuddering, you wipe the back of your mouth.

You crawl onto the floor, all the way to your bed.

Every day after this one, you awake sick and cranky, the same ache and nausea plaguing you. You also begin to experience faint headaches. It becomes dire enough for your parents to summon a doctor. However many times, he checks you out, he finds nothing amiss or wrong with you. Throughout the checkup, concern is etched on your parents’ faces. You’re forced to promise them that you’re alright and that, to prove it, you’ll show up for family dinner as you did before. Your father pats your cheek, visibly relieved, but the concern on your mother’s face doesn’t relent. She keeps scrutinizing you with a strange look on her face, one you’re not sure what to make of.

Still, even as you hug Ma and Dad, dread creeps inside you. Something else could still be wrong with you. The kind of thing there isn’t a quick fix-it for. The kind of thing you’d have to deal with for the rest of your life.

But you don’t let your mind wander there. Not yet.

As you end the day with yet another bout of vomiting and stabbing cramps, your mother rushes upstairs. She sinks to her knees at your side and strokes your hair.

“Are you alright? I heard you.” She frowns as she takes in your shuddering frame. “Perhaps we should call the doctor again so he can do more tests…”

You bristle. More tests would mean exploring other possible causes for your affliction. You can’t risk that. Not with Ma and Dad involved.

“It’s nothing, Ma,” you dismiss with haste. You put a hand on her arm. “Could we go to the apothecary this evening?” Her puzzled look draws a nervous chuckle from you. Twisting your hands, you chime falsely, “I bet it’s just a nasty stomach bug.”

Her frown deepens. “A bug? But you haven’t eaten very much lately.”

You shrug.

“It can still happen.” You slip on a mask of cheerfulness. “I’m sure I’ll be right as rain again with some ginger and camomile, Ma.”

“If you say so,” she says, returning your smile.

You’re a bit unsettled as you find yourself outside. The brightness of the sun sears your eyelids. You squint at the blue sky. You wobble down the stairs as your mother holds your arm. You’ve grown so accustomed to keeping yourself cloistered inside, either by your own will or the will of…others. Strolling along the cobblestoned path while the winter breeze caresses your face has a strange tickle running through you.

An awkward silence hangs between you and your mother once you’re in the back of a taxi.

Your fingers twiddle in your lap as you keep your eyes low. Who knows what Ma could discern in your gaze. You never managed to conceal much from her ever since you were a little girl. She was always freakishly aware of every blunder, bad grade and secret.

Her motherly instinct is infallible.

“Dad and I haven’t seen much of you these days,” she suddenly notes, causing your head to whip up. “I know you’re sad about William but…” She hesitates, gauging you before stating, “I think it’s a good thing.”

“Ma…”

“He was never right for you,” she insists, her inflection stern. “You’re a Plinth. You should aim higher.”

“Mother!” you hiss.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but it needed to be said.” She reaches out to drape her hand over yours. “You’re hurting right now but it’ll all be for the best in the end. You have a bright future ahead of you. That young man, nice as he is, was just holding you back.”

Mouth agape, you stare at your mother. While you know that she and Dad have never cradled William near their heart and weren’t too thrilled with your decision to marry him, you never expected her to be so callous about your engagement ending. In her mouth, it nearly sounds like a business deal gone wrong. But she knew William, talked to him many times, saw you with him. She has to understand how much losing him means to you. How can she be so cold and dismissive about it? You quell the budding sobs in your throat.

The quickness of the drive to the shop is a small mercy you bask in. After your mother spoke, the air in the car grew heavier, every lungful becoming torturous.

You hastily climb outside the car once it comes to a stop in front of the apothecary.

Windchimes sing above the door as you enter, your mother at your heel.

You linger by every shelf, pretending to be lost between all the labels.

“We could call the clerk to help…”

“No, it’s okay,” you cut her off. You giggle and shrug. “I like taking my time. Actually, you know what?” You grab a vial and shake it, pretending to study the label. You wave your hand at your mother. “I’m gonna stay behind and gather some more herbs. You should go. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Befuddlement knits her brow. “I could stay…”

“I won’t be long,” you snap, your lips curving in a wide, painful grin. You squeeze her arm, your tone softening. “I promise. Just wait for me in the car, Ma. Then we could stop by a café and have a bite. How does that sound?”

She yields with a nod. “That sounds lovely.”

Relief fills you when she walks away.

The second she’s out the door, you’re racing to the front desk.

“I need a pregnancy test, please,” you blurt out, your voice barely above a breath as you keep stealing wary glances behind you.

The mere utterance of the request has your insides coiling in horror. For a while, you were in staunch denial of that being a possibility. But you mulled it over, long and hard. It made you realize that, besides the sickness you’ve experienced lately, you also can’t remember the last time you had your monthly bleeding. You’ve never been late before. Not even once. And while things are a little fuzzy in your head…you’re pretty sure over two months isn’t a good sign.

The clerk blinks at you, seemingly taken aback. Still, she silently moves her head in agreement and dives through a door leading to what you assume to be the back of the shop.

The wait is agony. You count every second, praying your mother won’t show up out of the blue and start questioning what you’re up to.

When the clerk returns, you free a deep breath.

She places a small, clear vial inside your palm. You give her an inquiring look.

“You must…relieve yourself and transfer it in this vial,” she explains. “If it turns blue, well congratulations are in order.” Her smile dies as she notices your tight expression. “Or perhaps…not?”

“Thank you very much,” you say, carefully squeezing the vial and shoving it at the very bottom of your bag.

For good form, you ask for some medicinal herbs, some for stomach pains and others for sleeplessness. Just in case your mother inquires about your purchases. One can never be too careful.

When you’re back inside the car, your mother beams at you.

“Did you find what you were looking for, sweetie?”

“Y-Yes, I did, mother,” you stammer, clearing your throat and letting your gaze roam outside the window.

You’re thankful she cannot hear the cacophony of your pounding heart.

You spend the rest of the evening with your mother, drinking tea and eating cake while she babbles about trivial topics. You try your best to listen, giving vague, half-hearted replies.

But your mind is already far away, a million thoughts bumping inside your head.

The entire evening, you’re restless, eager to go home and get answers to your questions.

It requires every morsel of self-control within you not to make a beeline upstairs once the two of you are back home. You give a swift apology and tell your mother the day’s exhausted you and you need a quick nap. She reminds you that dinner is in less than two hours and you need to dress up. You don’t argue, all too happy to finally be on your own.

Once the door to your bedroom is closed, you slump against it, all the tension in your body draining all at once. You take a minute to breathe, leaning your head against the wood.

You retrieve the vial inside your bag. Your hands quake. Your heart drums.

Hesitation slithers through you. What if you just tossed it out the window, forgot about all this?

No. This isn’t something you can cower or hide from. You have to face this.

Your entire life could change in an instant. And it might be about more than just your life.

Shaking from head to toe, you proceed inside the bathroom. You pee in a glass and pour a small amount in the vial.

Insides painfully tight, you chew on your lip as you wait.

Stay clear, stay clear, you pray in silence, as if the water could hear your plea and change the course of your fate by some fantastical twist.

After a few minutes, blue starts bleeding inside the water. It doesn’t stop until all of it has morphed into the horrifying color, bubbles rising to the surface.

The air in your lungs falters. The vial crashes to the floor, scattering into tiny shards as you collapse on the floor of your bathroom.

You gape at the blue puddle on the floor. Maybe it’s a mistake. Tests aren’t always foolproof. They’re wrong sometimes. Perhaps yours was defective.

For a while, you loiter in your denial, conjuring a plethora of reasons why this isn’t happening.

Then you slowly blink. You realize the puddle hasn’t moved. The shards are still on the floor. The blue isn’t gone.

An audible exhale bursts from your chest.

Despite your desire to pretend otherwise, you can’t escape the truth. The ghastly, awful truth. There are no more ifs and buts, no ‘perhaps’, no ‘maybe’…Just the reality that will make itself known to all much sooner than you’d like.

You’re going to be a mother. You’re carrying Coriolanus Snow’s child. The urge to puke, cry and scream all at once surges through you.

“Sweetie, dinner’s ready.”

Your mother’s abrupt call from downstairs has your heart miss a beat.

“I’m not hungry, mom,” you reply automatically, tamping down the quiver in your voice.

“You promised,” she yells.

Right. You did. Perhaps it was foolish of you. How can you carry on with dinner and smile at your parents as if everything’s normal? As if your whole life didn’t take a gigantic turn…the biggest one there could ever be.

You collect yourself. You rub your sweaty palms on your skirt and pick a random dress from your wardrobe. You’re a little shocked to find the closet half-empty, gut wrenching as you remember a good chunk of your clothes are still at the Snows’ apartment.

Emptying your thoughts, you get dressed, your fingers slipping as you fumble with the buttons of your dress.

Get it together.

You slap your cheeks and will yourself to act normal. You’ll figure out the next steps later. Right now, you need to make it through dinner.

The facsimile of a smile nudges your lips upward as you drag your feet downstairs.

However all shallow semblance of happiness evaporates from your face when you take in who’s standing at the bottom of the stairs by your parents.

His smooth lilt ripples through the room.

“Hey, princess.”

Your stomach drops to your feet. Victory sways in his cobalt orbs as he savors your reaction.

He looks the exact same as the last time you saw him, simply more put together in his crisp red suit and white shirt, his blonde locks slicked back from his face.

Every cell in your body is screeching at you to run from him. As far as you can. For as long as you can. And never look back.

Your fingers clutch the stairs’ handrail.

Your appalled gaze turns to your parents. They are entirely too calm for your liking. In fact, they appear more wary of you than him.

“What’s going on? W-Why is he here?”

Your father takes careful steps towards you.

“Sweetheart, maybe we should sit, have a discussion as a family…”

You scoff, shying away from his outstretched hand.

“But he’s not…He’s not part of our family. Or did you forget, Dad?”

Your father’s shoulders fall, a great weariness settling upon his features. In that moment, he looks every bit of his years, all the built-up grief and exhaustion displayed on his face.

“Yes, but, in the current circumstances-”

“What circumstances?” you interrupt.

“Stop it,” Ma snaps. She sighs, approaching you. You stiffen. “We’re not stupid.” She lifts her hand to cup your cheek, her voice mellowing. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Your eyes bulge, shock striking you mute.

Coriolanus uses that moment to join your mother’s side. He places a soothing hand on her shoulder.

Your heart threatens to leap outside your chest when his eyes lock with yours.

“Your father’s right, princess. How about you come down so we can talk about this…” He flashes you a wicked smile. “As a family.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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violetmoondaughter · 4 months

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In neopaganism the horned god is seen with two different faces representing the duality of nature and the changing of seasonal cycle. The theory of these two aspects of the god was debated by Sir James George Frazer in The Golden Bough and by Robert Graves in The White Goddess.

According to these theories old religions were fertility cults that revolved around the worship and periodic sacrifice of a sacred king. Frazer based his thesis on the pre-Roman priest-king Rex Nemorensis who was ritually murdered by his successor. The king was the incarnation of a dying and reviving god, a solar deity who underwent a mystic marriage to a goddess of the Earth. He died at the harvest and was reincarnated in the spring. This legend of rebirth is central to almost all of the world's mythologies. Some examples of this archetypical figure are the gods Dionysus, Osiris, Tammuz, Dumuzi, Adonis, Janus, Attis.

The two aspects of this figure take the names of Holly and Oak king.

The Holly King is seen as an old version of the green man, ruler of winter, death and darkness. He starts his kingdom at summer solstice when, after the longest day, ruled by his opposite king the oak king, the days start to get darker and shorter entering in the dark half of the year. The holly king is so called referring to the plant that is fruitful during the winter season. The holly king is also referred to as a black knight and is also connected with the dark aspects of many pagan gods.

Counterpart of the Holly King is the Oak King that is usually seen as a young green man, ruler of summer, life and light. He starts his kingdom at the winter solstice, when after the darkest night a new light is reborn, signing the beginning of the light half of the year. The oak king is called over the name of the plant that is fruitful during the hot season. Opposite to the Holly King, the Oak King, relates to the light aspect of many pagan gods and its sometimes referred to as a white knight.

According to the theory these two kings may be seen as two brothers fighting for the throne or as a father and son passing the kingdom to each other in a perpetual cycle of death and rebirth. This cycle of life and death represents the seasonal cycle of death and rebirth of the sunlight and vegetative world.

#witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #paganism #pagan witch #oak king holly king #horned god #green man #winter solstice #yule #the golden bough #wheel of the year #darkness and light #winter #strega #italianwitch

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metanoias-substack · 3 months

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On Janus, the two-faced Roman god of beginnings

Or: how January got its name & why you shouldn’t give up on your New Year’s resolutions just yet

Now that we’re more than halfway through January, how are your New Year’s resolutions coming along?

If you’re anything like most of us, your resolve may be getting shaky.

According to a recent Forbes survey, the average resolution lasts a mere 3.74 months, and only 6% of people stick with their goals long term.

But you know what?

Even if you’ve failed to live up to your resolutions less than a month into 2024, that’s fine. Don’t give up on yourself just yet.

Here’s an unlikely source of hope and motivation to get back up again and keep at it in the guise of one lesser-known (undeservedly!) Roman deity.

#ancient history #history #ancient civilizations #ancient rome #roman empire #history of religion #classical mythology #roman mythology #mythology and folklore #roman gods #january #new year’s resolution #antiquity #classical antiquity

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melandrops · 6 months

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The Magnus Archives Entities as Greek Gods

The Vast - Zeus

The all powerful, infinite cosmic force that is both the king of the gods and the fear of insignificance. The fear of falling, and of openness. Pray that when lightning strikes, you will not taste ozone on your tongue.

The Buried - Poseidon

The ocean could very well be a part of the Vast, but they are fundamentally opposed. The same sides of a coin, one side pewter the other side copper. Two kings that rule next to each other yet are complete opposites. Pray that his brutal storms do not swallow you whole, crushing you under the weight of his world.

The End - Hades

He is the one inevitability of the world. He waits, passive, for victims. The other gods squabble and bicker and play their games while he looks on from the Underworld and knows that he is the ultimate winner. It is pointless to hope that he will not claim you eventually. Pray that you will be contented when he does.

The Web - Athena

The goddess of strategy, of weaving and trickery and cunning. She once cursed a girl to become a spider for her insolence. Pray that she does not lay her marionette strings over you, for then you will never know free will again.

The Slaughter - Ares

The god of war, and the gleam of bloodshed in your eyes and the eyes of the person on the other end of the battlefield. Pray that the blood streaking your hands and face is not your own.

The Corruption - Aphrodite

She is love, and the unbecoming of it all. The deadly force that eats away at your soul and changes you into someone you don't recognize anymore. She whispers that she is the most good and right form of the world, but her kiss is made of rot. Pray that her love will not break you apart piece by piece.

The Eye - Apollo

The god of the sun, who sees all the occurs in the daylight. Prophecy, truth, and the goings on of the world are the way he idles his time away. Pray that you are not intriguing enough to catch his vicious interest.

The Lonely - Hestia

She is the goddess of the hearth, of warmth and of family. Yet it was she who was foisted out of Olympus to make way for Dionysus. She tends to a hearth with no visitors to warm themselves by it. Pray that she does not beckon you to join her by the empty fire.

The Stranger - Dionysus

His parties are the raucous screams in the night, and people who walk in will never walk out the same person. There will always be something a little bit off about them. Pray that when the wine touches your lips you will still recognize yourself the next morning.

The Desolation - Hephaestus

Ugly, marred and disfigured. His wife refuses to look at him. He burns with a rage that he cannot distinguish as self hatred or as loathing for the world he lives in. He toys with the fire in his forge and the burns are the only thing that bring him joy anymore. Pray that he does not look at you with that fiery hatred in his eyes.

The Hunt - Artemis

She hunts in the dead of night, armed by the protection of the moon. Occasionally she enlists help. But always, she will dedicate herself to the next hunt. Pray you are not next.

The Flesh - Prometheus

He built humans out of clay. He built them with imperfections they would see in the mirror and insecurities that feel like a gaping pit in their chest. The god of innovation is also a god who wants their passions to hurt. Pray that when he creates you, your imperfections do not swallow you whole.

The Spiral - Janus

Doors and transitions and new beginnings but also endings all rolled into one. Everything and anything but also nothing and no one. He is a two faced god of deception and lies, and you can never trust what either face tells you. Pray for truth, but there is no point.

The Dark - Nyx

She's always there. Waiting for Apollo to leave. You're not safe from her. No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, the most animal part of your brain will always fear her. Pray that she smiles at you without teeth as she watches while you sleep.

The Extinction - Pan

He is the god of nature, and there is no length he will not go to in order to protect it. Mankind is but a blemish on the world. The wild, untamable forces of nature will conquer it eventually. Pray that you will be overlooked when it floods the cities and burns the crops.

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lovelylogans · 8 months

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the parent trap

the masterpost

“So,” Remus says slowly. “If your Dad is my Dad…”

“...and your Pa is my Papa…”

Remus stares at the seam of the wedding photo, made whole again after more than a decade. His Pa, Patton, familiar with his cowboy-handsome, weather-beaten face and his dimpled grin and his big, calloused hand resting over his new husband’s, even if Remus has never seen him look this smitten ever.

“And we’re both born on October 11… then, Roman. You and I are… like… brothers.”

And his Dad—Janus—smiling coyly, handsome in the way of magazine models, so completely a stranger to Remus with just this scrap of a photograph to serve as any way to know him, really know him. The way Roman knows him. The way Remus has been dying to know him all his life.

“Remus,” Roman breathes out, disbelieving. “We aren’t just brothers. We’re twins.”

Remus wonders, in a daze, if seeing the opposite life he could have had is as strange for Roman as it is for him… if they’d just been switched at birth, it’s the life Remus could have had, knowing his Dad instead of his Pa, but then…

But then it clicks.

“Roman,” he says, turning to grin at his brother—his brother! “I have a completely perfect, totally awesome idea!”

or: it's a parent trap AU for @tss-storytime with fanart by @tastic-in-its-finest!

warnings: pranks and practical jokes, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of underage drinking (in the context of a child trying a sip of wine), sibling rivalry and bonding, please let me know if i've missed any!

pairings: janus/patton, logan/virgil, brief patton/male oc

word count: 80k

notes: a few notes before we begin: first, thanks so much to morgan for their fanart for this fic!!! it's so cute, please like and reblog and do all that fun stuff!!! second, thanks to the folks over at the big bang for organizing this whole event—i know firsthand how complicated that can get, and you are so appreciated!!! this is technically a '90s au, but a '90s au in terms of the fashion and lack of social media/cell phones, not any of the homophobia. i hope you all enjoy!!!!

chapter one: prologue Across the world from each other, two very different families help two very similar boys pack their bags.

chapter two: welcome to camp walden! Welcome to what we like to think of as the most beautiful spot on God's green earth—Camp Walden.

chapter three: en garde The boys come to blows. (With practice épées, but in their minds, it’s equally as serious.)

chapter four: riposte The boys come to blows. (With words and stitching.)

chapter five: black card The boys come to blows. (With a temporary reversal of gravity, oodles of chocolate sauce, and finally, some semblance of adult interference.)

chapter six: isolation station The boys spend a great deal of their time considering coming to blows. Until suddenly, they don’t want to fight at all anymore.

chapter seven: operation augustus The realization of having an identical twin does quite a bit to spur some out-of-the-box levels of creativity.

chapter eight: let's get down to business! The boys begin to plot. Camp Walden trembles in fear.

chapter nine: to defeat… the family civil divisions of napa and london respectively! The boys plot. The world all over ought to be trembling in fear.

chapter ten: domine dirige nos Remus spends a great deal of time weighing the most British way to say hello. He’s going to have to repress throwing in a what’s all this then, guv’nor? the entire time.

chapter eleven: eureka! Roman spends a great deal of time weighing the most American way to say hello. He thinks he probably shouldn’t come right out of the gate with howdy, y’all!

chapter twelve: a wench in the works This absolutely was not in their multitude of blueprints!

chapter thirteen: riding is magic and friendship is power and love is everything to everyone Roman gets to meet his pony. He should, by all rights, be much more excited about it, but someone had to go and ruin it for him.

chapter fourteen: in which virgil attempts to hold a poker face (and fails miserably) Virgil curses being so observant.

chapter fifteen: all of my change spent on you Remus has a particularly fun run-in. Well. Fun for him.

chapter sixteen: so your sons have swapped places and are in foreign countries This particular subject was not covered in the parenting books.

chapter seventeen: hopped off the plane at lax with a dream of civil reconciliation with my ex-husband Remus plots. Grandfather aids and abets. Janus panics. Logan suffers them all.

chapter eighteen: small world and getting smaller Janus is officially the father of the two most troublesome twins in the galaxy.

chapter nineteen: you got me tripping, stumbling! sinking, fumbling! Patton makes a splash.

chapter twenty: the queen elizabeth the second the second The twins attempt to revive the past. The parents wish to change it.

chapter twenty-one: i said a boom chicka boom! Logan’s swept off his feet. As is Maddox, in an entirely different way.

chapter twenty-two: i said a boom GO TO YOUR ROOM The twins’ plots bear oh-so-satisfying fruit.

chapter twenty-three: where dreams have no end A hello, a goodbye.

chapter twenty-four: the concorde(ance) A goodbye, a hello.

chapter twenty-five: epilogue Two very similar boys help their two very different families assimilate into one.

#tssstorytimesubmission2023 #my fic #my fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #moceit #analogical #creativitwins #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #emile picani

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ianitos · 7 months

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not to hype my patron god up but i think he deserves more recognition within polytheistic and pagan spaces so i'm highlighting him

Janus

god/patron of doorways, change, beginnings, transitions, time, prophecy, history, omens, all dualities (ex. war/peace, but also things like beginning/end, life/death, barbarism/civilization, urban/rural, youth/adulthood, the list goes on)

his name derives from ianua which means door or doorway, Janus was an Etruscan and Roman tutelary and domestic deity. but his myths and level of importance varied: some viewed him as the initiator of life, others as a mortal king and son of Apollo, even, who then ascended to godhood, and his commonly accepted role of gatekeeper between our realm and the realm of the gods.

some fun facts:

janus' image was carved on coins! this is because he is legended to be the first to mint coins!

janus has two heads, this is because one faces the future while the other faces the past

janus has many wives! (jana, juturna, camese and sometimes venilia)

one of his most famous temples/holy grounds would signify eras of peace and war depending on if the doors were opened/closed

#janus 🗝️#devotee #pagan #paganism #roman pagan #paganblr #pagan community #spiritual #pagans of tumblr #spirituality #religion #deity worship #deity devotion

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delimeful · 4 months

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give me mercy no more (2)

warnings: self sacrifice, mentions of hypothetical gore, fear/panic, misunderstandings, abduction, logan getting too excited about science and explaining Nothing

Standing alone on the center of the barren sacrificial altar, Virgil felt as though he’d been wrung out like an old dishcloth.

The stress was still there, along with the terror and the dread and the misery, but after a while they’d faded into simple background noise. A low, ever-present hum, constantly reminding him he was going to die soon.

As though he could forget something like that.

Still. Better him than Janus, or, gods forbid, Thomas. It was the mantra that had carried him this far. He’d say it all the way to his grave.

Assuming he actually got one, that was. There probably wouldn’t be much left to bury.

The sound of distant wingbeats pulled his attention back to the world outside, the chorus of terror growing the slightest bit louder in the back of his mind. He could see the silhouette, growing larger as the dragon got closer, and twisted one of the decorative ceremonial cuffs he’d donned around his wrist nervously.

He glanced at where two of his knights waited at the entrance to the open-air cliff platform.

“You don’t have to be here,” he tried, glancing between them. “It’s dangerous, and you probably won’t want to see…,”

He trailed off, gesturing idly with a cuffed hand, because there was really no delicate way to say ‘I’m most likely about to get torn to bloody shreds.’

The two of them exchanged looks. “We’re staying, sir. The least we can do for you is see this through.”

“I trained you guys too well,” he snorted, but when he turned back to face the open sky, he felt a little less alone.

He hadn’t needed to explain much, not after he’d told them that he would be taking Janus’s place. It had earned him looks, ranging from solemn to pitying, but none dared to argue when Janus himself appeared to have conceded.

(The spell would unravel by nightfall. By then, he’d be long gone, one way or another.)

He might not be an advisor, but when he’d stepped into the role of bodyguard, he’d applied every bit of dedication in his body to the job. He knew more about the kingdom and how it worked than almost anyone else.

And if that didn’t end up being enough? He was fairly sure that being a mage would tip the scales in their favor.

Revealing that little tidbit was a last resort, since rumor had it that most dragons were attracted to magical power in any form, and in order to obtain it, the more ruthless of them would often hunt down and consume human mages.

The thought didn’t manage to perturb Virgil much. He’d felt pretty sure he was going to get bitten in half well before uncovering the truth about that particular rumor, possibly even before he got through the first sentence of his explanation, and he’d committed to the decision anyhow.

Overhead, the dragon began their descent.

An enormous winged shadow fell over him, and for a moment, the instinctual clamor in his head became deafening— YOU’LL DIE YOU’LL DIE YOU’LL DIE— but he forced the automatic tension from his legs.

He couldn’t run. Not from this.

A heavy thump, and Virgil lifted his head to see that the dragon had shifted into a massive humanoid form. Far less aerodynamic, but it was the most common form used whenever a dragon deigned to actually speak with a human. Draconic snouts weren’t ideal for speaking human tongues, after all.

The beast was hardly less intimidating this way. They had settled so they were standing on the ground far beneath the cliffside, but they were large enough that they could easily rest their arms on either side of the wide altar Virgil stood on as simply as Virgil himself would lean against a counter.

Virgil glanced up for as long as he dared, and then resisted the urge to do a double take. Was that… was that their dragon?

He hadn’t been present for the last tribute offering before the assassinations– mostly due to aforementioned identity as a mage– but the being before him didn’t look anything like the descriptions of the ancient, silver-scaled dragon that had Thomas’s ancestors had made a covenant with, back when the kingdom was little more than a well-defended duchy.

For one, their human form was relatively young-looking. For another, the scales and horns that decorated their hairline were a deep indigo.

… Well, Virgil was already on thin ice. He resolutely decided he wasn’t going to be the one to ask. They were waiting on a dragon, and there was one here, so he might as well proceed with the ceremony.

Large, slit-pupil eyes flickered over the scene set before them, a pair of thin, translucent eyelids sweeping over them in what almost looked like a bewildered blink. “This is… unusual.”

It wasn’t the enraged demand for an explanation that he’d been expecting, and Virgil struggled to remember exactly how Janus had phrased his argument, thrown off-balance. “Uh, with the damages–,” no, shit, wait–, “I mean, honorable greetings to the lord of this land,” he hurriedly corrected, bowing his head in deference. “We humbly welcome you.”

There was a pause, and Virgil bit his lip hard enough that he tasted blood. He’d never been the best at the whole social etiquette bit, and somehow the way he’d almost botched the entire thing in the first ten seconds was making him feel more stressed than the past half-hour of waiting for and vividly imagining his impending demise.

“I accept this welcome,” the dragon finally replied, still sounding more curious than angry. Naturally, they managed to make the greeting sound entirely professional and well-practiced. “I haven’t accepted a tribute from this kingdom yet, but I’m familiar with the general concept, and things seem… different.”

That was a definite yes on the new lord thing, then.

Their statement wasn’t phrased as a question, but Virgil recognised a demand for information when he heard one. He straightened back up, only barely keeping himself from falling into a Knight’s rigid upright posture on automatic. “Yes, my lord. There were significant damages to the kingdom during the invasions, and the– the livestock and harvest that would usually be offered don’t exist now.”

“Invasions?” the dragon asked, which was frankly not the part of that statement Virgil had expected their attention to catch on. “Was your previous lord negligent in her duties?”

“N–No,” Virgil tried tentatively, unsure what the right answer was here. “The matters were between humans, and our… previous lord… wasn’t to be bothered with trifles like that.”

The dragon’s brow furrowed, and when they huffed through their nose, a small puff of smoke escaped along with the sigh. “I see,” was all they said, their deep, rumbling voice sounding almost contemplative.

“Currently, our people only barely have enough to survive,” Virgil continued after a moment, trying to stick to the script he’d tricked out of Janus. “In the hopes of– of keeping the kingdom alive, so that you’ll have many years of tribute in the future, we ask that you show mercy and accept an alternative offering this year.”

The dragon’s ears pricked in interest, head tilting slightly. “An alternative offering?”

Deep breaths, now. “Along with heirloom treasures from the royal bloodline, you are offered the– the life of one of His Highness’s closest advisors, with knowledge of all in the kingdom.”

He lifted his chin and forced himself to step forward, spreading his wrists as far as the ceremonial cuffs would allow to make it clear just who was being offered, here. Janus would have made it look elegant, graceful even. Virgil was pretty sure he was only making it look like what it was: a guy in restraints pretending he was fine with his new status as a sacrifice.

The dragon reared back a little, thankfully looking more surprised than murderous. “Does this kingdom usually offer humans as tribute?” they asked, nose scrunching up in a confounded expression

“No, definitely no,” Virgil hurried to say, already grimacing at the idea of setting a precedent. “It’s only in this specific case. Only me.”

“I understand.” The dragon hummed thoughtfully, idly tapping clawed fingers against the stone. “Are any of these heirlooms magically-charged in any way?”

The sinking feeling in Virgil’s gut abruptly got a lot deeper. “No, my lord.”

They sighed in disappointment, clearly uninterested by the offering, and Virgil’s heart nearly seized in his chest at the idea of failing now, of the dragon claiming the original tribute by force and starving their people, of them demanding to see the king punished for the offense, or any number of other nightmarish outcomes.

He took another halting step forward, the sheen of sweat along his skin leaving him chilled in the face of the afternoon breeze. He was well within reach of those huge hands now. “However,” he managed, “there is still magic available in the tribute.”

Under the dragon’s sharp gaze, he couldn’t force another syllable past his clenched teeth. Instead, he held up a single hand and summoned a small orb of flame, shifting the color of the flames to an intense blue in the hopes of showing that he was a strong mage without needing to destroy anything.

His magic stores were considerable, after years of practice keeping them hidden and in reserve. He’d spelled Janus, but that hadn’t burnt through much. Really, it had only drained him emotionally.

The dragon’s pupils expanded as they leaned in closer, inspecting the display with a much more intense version of that same curious expression that they’d worn all along. Virgil swallowed, all his worries about being bitten in half abruptly surging back to the forefront of his mind.

“Oh, wonderful!” the dragon said, and there was a sudden warm weight curling around his back. Virgil turned his head to the side just slightly, and could see those huge claws curving around his shoulders. “Source magic will work much more efficiently than the remnants I could pull from most ancient artifacts, anyhow.”

Virgil forced himself not to try and wiggle out of the grip around him, even when it began lifting him clear off the ground, the dragon’s hand rotating to create a sort of curved cradle underneath him. He knew this would happen, he reminded himself. He’d wanted this over the alternative, and he only had to hang onto his composure for a little longer. Just until he was out of eyeshot of anyone who could tell Janus or Thomas afterwards.

“I accept the kingdom’s tribute and will act as its lord from now on,” the dragon intoned formally, lifting Virgil up further and further.

His heart dropped in horrible terror for a moment, but then he was lifted even higher, until he was staring down at a pair of curved horns. The hand under him tilted, and Virgil scrambled for a grip as he found himself promptly deposited on top of the dragon’s head.

“Hold on tightly,” the dragon warned, “I’ll catch you if you fall, but from this high up, you might pass out from the sudden change in altitude. Hm, I’m not certain humans know about altitude, actually…”

Virgil suspected he might pass out with or without outside interference, but saying as much wouldn’t help him. His gamble had worked, and now he was a mage in the possession of a dragon, as good as dead. He clung onto the horn next to him as the shape under him shifted to something far more reptilian.

They took to the sky, and despite the terrifying vertigo, Virgil turned and watched the kingdom grow smaller and smaller in the distance for as long as he could.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts virgil #ts logan #give me mercy no more #gmmnm #my writing #writing

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novamilano1 · 4 months

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The pink, red rose or the grumpy crown frog ? Love or duty ? Of new beginnings and of choices ! Go Wille !!!

So we have all seen the cute Snow Globe frog, so much drama around it. But have you seen its counterpart, the rose Snow Globe in Simon's house ? Let's partly unpack these metaphors, it's fascinating ! I'm in awe of the writers of this cute addictive show. So the grumpy frog represents duty, the lineage of the royal functions (given to Eric by his grandpa and then given to Wille by Eric). Courtesy of TVM (TV microscopic, go check the blog on substack, it's amazing, phenomenal) who reminds in one of the articles (about "negative space" ? ) that the frog can only turn into a prince if he's kissed. The frog can only be "awakened", transformed, be given his real shape by love. Plus, the frog is an aquatic animal (go check the water metaphor in YR on TVM's blog) but he is also terrestrian as an amphibian. There is a poster of a frog in Wille's room (courtesy of Molly who saw it and of the "kingdom", a group of YR fans with whom, I discuss YR and TVM's analysis). So the choice stands between, romantic love, the rose Snow Globe on Simon's table, at home, in his living-room, and heavy duty. But the show is quite positive about the outcome (it offers hope at least). The bubble of the grumpy crown frog with all its fake splendor (the glitter) will have to be brutally opened. It has to fall from its height. And under whose touch the frog could access the world of the rose, of romantic love ? Under Simon's touch (cf. the way he touches the frog before the love scene of Ep. 5, S2). The rose in Simon's Snow Globe is shown at two very symbolic moments. First in ep. 4 s. 1 just after the scene when Wille becomes the crown prince. Simon watches the televised memorial the day of Eric's burial. And the second time is just after the palace scene when Wille is asked to deny his participation in the video. He has to act according to Kristina's view of his duty. But the alternative comes in the next scene, holy love, the rose near these lit candles on the table of Simon's house. And apart from this obvious parallel between the two opposite globes, the show has a very subtle way to tell us that there is a choice to be made. The broken bubble of the grumpy crown frog that Simon touches with his finger is set on two books. If you zoom, you can read the title of one of the books (janusstenen) = the janus' stone. So Janus is the bifrons god. He has two faces and symbolises new beginnings, the choice between the past and the future, doors, gates. So Wilhelm, you know what to do !! (dixit google). It's janus who gave the month that begins the year "january". What better moment to have a look at this ? What's your take on this ?

PS, let's note that the rose symbolises many things but another interesting symbolism (apart from romantic love) which is cohesive to the show is that the rose also refers to socialism. And Simon is the "socialist" who sneers on the one who receives the most on welfare ! Socialism vs royalty ?

#edvin ryding #omar rudberg #young royals #omar and edvin #wilmon #young royals netflix #yr analysis #yr archive #wilhelm x simon #wilhelm young royals #youngroyalsanalysis #crown prince wilhelm #yr season 1 #yr season 2 #simon x wilhelm #wille x simon #simon eriksson

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blueiskewl · 3 months

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“Unique” Medieval Gold Ring Found in Poland

An elaborately decorated medieval gold ring, likely to be from the 11th or 12th century, has been discovered buried beneath Wawel Castle, the former seat of Poland’s kings in the city of Kraków. It is the only one of its kind ever found on Polish territory. “Wawel never ceases to surprise us,” wrote the castle museum on social media while announcing the “exceptional discovery” on Monday.

The ring is decorated with opposing faces, making it extremely unusual. Only a few early medieval gold rings have been found in Poland and they are devoid of ornamentation or have simple geometric patterns.

That makes the latest find “unique”, says Jerzy Trzebiński from the castle museum’s archaeology department. “This is the only example in which human images (or figural ones in general) are depicted on an early medieval ring from Poland.”

He also notes that the item contains no references to Christianity (which had begun to be established in Poland from the 10th century) and suggests that the two faces could represent Janus, the two-faced Roman God.

Given that the form of the ring is typical for that period in Poland, Trzebiński believes it was probably a local product and could have belonged to a member of the elites under the Piasts, Poland’s first ruling dynasty from when the state was established in the 10th century until the 14th century.

The item was discovered during archaeological research in the basement of the so-called Danish Tower (Wieża Duńska), one of the castle’s four residential towers.

It was built from the late 14th to early 15th century on the orders of King Władysław II Jagiełło as part of the reconstruction of a previously existing tower. The tower’s facade was then added in the 16th century.

The building took its name from one of its first guests, Eric, king of Denmark, Sweden and Norway (often known as Eric of Pomerania). He stayed there in 1424 while attending the coronation of King Władysław’s fourth wife, Sophia of Halshany.

The ring was found on top of the remains of a former stone structure, probably a defensive rampart. The history of Wawel Castle dates back to the 11th century, but long before then the hill that it sits upon had been an important seat of power.

#“Unique” Medieval Gold Ring Found in Poland #Wawel Castle #golf #gold jewelry #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #medieval history

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martiandmichelle · 4 months

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January is named for the ancient Roman God, Janus, who has two faces: one looking forward and the other backward, as if looking to the future and the past simultaneously. I thought I would start 2024 in the same light: a picture of me in the past followed by one from the present. Here's the "past" photo where I was maybe an J cup and still had all my freckles.

Look for the "present" and, hopefully future, photo of me soon.

Marti

#marti #fishnet #freckles

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bsd-bibliophile · 9 months

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[He] knew he was a different person when drunk. Told that he had behaved wildly the night before, he would become embarrassed and fall back upon a commonplace lie: he had been so drunk last night it seemed only a dream. In fact he clearly remembered whether he had danced or had napped. Still, last night was not today, and that [self] was different from this one. But which of them was the real one he wasn’t at all certain. … The Roman god Janus had two faces, and no one knew which was real. [His] was a similar case.

Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, “The Clown’s Mask” from Akutagawa and Dazai: Instances of Literary Adaptation

#akutagawa ryūnosuke #japanese literature #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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studsandmore00 · 14 days

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“Emoc athero dekratis!” Janus said, finishing the third stanza of the spell. His hands glowed as he placed them in his abs. Warmth spread through his body.

Janus felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as the warm feeling subsided. “Yo, dude? Where the fuck are you?” Aaron’s voice said. Janus could hear the club music pounding in the background. “The club is fucking nuts. Get over here.”

Janus tapped Aaron on the shoulder as he got to the club. “Yo dude! You finally made it!” He shouted over the pounding music.

“Yeah! I’m here! What’re you drinking?” Janus shouted back.

“Beer! Go get one and hurry the fuck up. There’s someone I need to introduce you too!”

Janus grabbed his drink from the bar and headed back over to Aaron. Other than the guy in the middle, Aaron was the only guy at the table.

Janus was struck by the presence of the other man at the table. Even in the dark lighting of the club he could see the man’s olive skin and the outline of a body that had spent a lot of time at the gym.

“Hey! This is my friend Janus.” He shouted to the table. “Strange name but cool guy.”

The man in the middle perked up. “As in the two faced Roman god?” He said.

“Yeah, my parents both have Phds in classical mythology.” Janus shrugged. “You’re the first person to get it, by the way.”

The man shrugged. “I get it. My parents named me Apollo. At least yours had an excuse. Mine just liked the name.”

Janus and Apollo talked the rest of the night at the bar while Aaron and the group of women danced like horny chimps.

“Last call guys. Want anything?” The bartender said. Janus looked at his watch and was surprised to see that it was already 3am.

“Nah, I’m good.” Janus said. Apollo nodded as well, indicating he was finished. “Hey where’s Aaron and those girls you were with?” Janus asked as he looked around the club and couldn’t find his friend.

“Oh they left like 2 hours ago.” Apollo said. “I think you were in the bathroom.”

“Ah ok.” Janus said. This wasn’t the first time that Aaron had ditched him at the bar for a girl or two. “I guess it’s time I head home too.” Janus said. He still needed to finish the last part of the spell he’d begun earlier.

“Oh come on. We’re having so much fun.” Apollo said. “You don’t want to go yet. Let’s head back to my place and have another drink.”

Janus felt a wave of influence come over him and before he could turn his new friend down, he found himself in a spacious penthouse apartment.

“Damn dude! How the fuck do you afford this?” Janus gasped.

“Family money.” Apollo said. “What do you want to drink?” Apollo walked over to a bar on the far wall. He started pulling glass bottles off the wall and mixing them together into a drink.”

“You got beer?” Janus asked.

“No.” He said. “Drink this.” Apollo said, turning around with a nondescript brown drink in his hand. “It tastes better than it looks.” He said with a shrug. Janus took a sip of the drink and smiled. It tasted like summer fruits. “So how long have you been practicing magic?” Apollo asked

I nearly spat out my drink. “What?”

“You have the smell of it about you. But here’s the thing about magic…” Apollo said as he stepped closer to Janus. “There’s always a consequence if you don’t complete the spell.” Apollo snapped his fingers and Janus found himself naked on a bed.

Apollo stood across from Janus, equally naked. Janus’ eyes traced the lines of Apollo’s body, admiring the 6 pack of abs. Janus had never considered sleeping with a man before but seeing Apollo in all his glory made his dick hard and his hole wet.

What the fuck is happening to me. Janus thought.

“That would be the consequences of not completing the spell.” Apollo said, stepping closer to Janus. Apollo’s massive dick was rock hard. He lifted Janus’ legs and slid into him.

Janus’ body exploded with pleasure as it took inch after inch of Apollo’s manhood. Janus moaned as the world went white.

“Worship me.” Apollo said as he grabbed Janus’ face and forced the man to look at him. Apollo sat back and flexed.

“You’re amazing.” Janus said as he touched Apollo’s ripped body. “I’ve never met a man like you.” Pleasure continued to flow through his body with each thrust.

“Pray to me.” Apollo said as he picked up speed. “Beg me for pleasure.”

“Apollo, please fuck me harder. I need you inside me.” Janus begged. He’d barely registered the words as he said them. Apollo’s dick seemed to grow longer and thicker inside Janus. Janus gasped as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Beg me for a child.” Apollo said as he leaned over and looked deep into Janus’ eyes.

“Oh god, breed me. Give me your child.” Janus begged as he grabbed Apollo. “Please, I need your child inside me now.” He said. Apollo exploded inside Janus as he arched his back in pleasure. The warmth of Apollo’s seed filled his body. Janus looked at Apollo as both of them panted.

“Been a long time since I had a child.” Apollo said. “I hope you’re ready.”

Janus laughed. “Well we’ll see…” Janus stopped mid sentence and looked down. His body was already starting to bloat.

“Don’t worry. Demigods are usually born a few months after conception.” Apollo said as he got up from the bed.

Janus rubbed his belly and felt the life growing inside it.

#gay men #beautiful men #gay story #mpreg #mpreg story #muscle gay #ai generated #muscles #mpreg kink #gay gods

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