#my hubris will not befall me

[vexedtonightmares]

guys ren & i are gonna achieve perfect lyctorhood

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied. 

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes. 

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Once again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately. 

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods. 

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly. 

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield. 

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.01.2024]

[vylad243]

first, a sincere apology for this MONSTER of a prompt to come — bless my random half-conscious 4am thoughts for sending me down this downward spiral — BUT: we all know how protective/absolutely fucking feral Alastor is over any implied threat towards Vox’s safety: one can only imagine how horrible a fate would befall the poor, foolish folk who have the balls to ACTUALLY try to harm the Radio Demon’s mate.

Like, imagine Vox just going about his normal every day routine, taking precious baby boi Vark on his early morning walkies when he’s suddenly jumped by a group of very brave, very stupid sinners who either 1) want to get to Alastor through Vox and are SEVERELY underestimating the capabilities of the older overlord because he’s (in their minds) a “washed-up has-been fossil playing guard dog for the princess” who’s gotten soft because he’s in love (barf); or b) are hoping to take down an overlord out of sheer hubris, completely forgetting that Vox is literally a living power grid for Pentagram City, if not the entirety of Hell itself. Either way, f in the chat for their courage I guess. Since this attack is premeditated, our hapless captors made through work of trying to clear this specific area — a shortcut through an alley because not even Vox is immune to horror movie logic at times — clear of any cameras or electrical devices that could ensure an easy getaway and blocking off any potential exits they can.

Naturally, Vox — not being some helpless damsel in distress — puts up a damn good fight, at the cost of constant power shortages throughout the next hour or so. Eventually, however, he gets overpowered/taken by surprise and boom! Realm-wide power outage. Now, the gang at the hotel were already wary when the lights began flickering and the internet cut out during breakfast; their fear only intensifies when a sudden blackout strikes and they can hear a VERY pissed wendigo demon barreling down the stairs. Maybe even they find Vark on the hotel doorstep, visibly distressed and even a little injured (only a LITTLE, because I’m not a monster), with a crudely-written ransom note taped to him. Charlie can barely get through the first sentence before Al is out the door — a fifty ft tall, at the very minimum, mass of tentacles and sickly green static illuminating the pitch black streets, uncaring of those foolish enough to end up in his path.

It takes less than an hour for Alastor to find the dingy warehouse they took his mate to: these gentleman are not only bold in their stupidity but sloppy as well. Thanks to the blackout, he slips in undetected with his shadows and makes quick work of finding Vox. The overlord in question is more annoyed than anything else, bound in an uncomfortable position with angelic rope and put on mute (his captors’ egos couldn’t handle his viscous verbal roasts after he already fried them up pretty bad), but otherwise unharmed. Of course, this is Alastor we’re talking about: so much as the sight of his lover in pain, with a crack on his screen and his clothes visibly tousled is enough to spark a raging fire in the seething Radio Demon that would put the fear in God in anyone foolish enough to trifle with him.

Speaking of foolish, our intrepid group of attempted kidnappers are too busy trying and failing to restore the internet to try and broadcast their Very Spooky Hostage Negotiations stream (they rehearsed it and everything! Brad brought the costumes and eerie mood lighting!) to notice the horrifyingly wholesome lovers reunion going on literally right behind them. Alastor wastes no time in doing away with the bindings and making sure Vox is as comfortable as can be before teleporting him to a safe location outside; his lover is slightly irritated at the prospect of being left out for now, but is placated for now with kisses and the promise of watching these insufferable fools burn for their transgressions against Hell’s most ferocious power couple. Because of this, Vox waits outside for the next hour and makes a point of NOT restoring the power yet as he listens to his amazing and powerful mate torment the sinners psychology: the sounds of screaming are just all the more beautiful and crisp without the distracting noise of traffic and the nagging electric current constantly running through his veins distracting him from the most simple of pleasures.

Eventually though, by the two-hour mark, he gets bored of playing games on his phone, restores the power, and teleports back inside to tell Alastor to wrap things up because he actually has things to do today and he still hasn’t gotten his morning coffee yet, damnit. Al relents, teleporting the sobbing and trembling group of would-be kidnappers to the shadow realm, immediately showering his mate with kisses, cuddles, protective bites, the whole routine. Vox is slightly embarrassed at the entire ordeal (mostly at his own actions that led to him ending up here in the first place) but the assurances of Alastor that he did nothing wrong and the confirmation of Vark being alright soothes his guilt. He even allows Alastor to carry him out of the building bridal style as the warehouse burns down in a beautiful show of green fire and blue electrical fire around them (he thinks the view is fucking hot, literally in this case)

Naturally, Al and the rest of the hotel staff are on protective watch for almost the entirety of the next month — not because they think Vox is incapable of managing himself just fine, no; they just fear the consequences of what would happen Hell-wide if he were to go missing again. Vox can’t bring himself to be annoyed because he, more than anyone, is aware that Alastor would fistfight Lucifer and the entire order of Hell itself to ensure his safety. Not that he’s complaining anyway: his attention-craving ass is VERY much reveling in the almost 24 hour cuddle sessions and kisses, and Vark very much appreciates Al accompanying them during their morning walks now because he gets double the treats.

And the sugar on the cream comes later on in the week after the incident, when a VERY special, extended broadcast of Alastor’s radio show goes live on air, featuring a VERY special guest star: the media overlord himself, who would like to send a little message to the denizens of Hell that overlords are not to be messed with and are in power for a REASON. Alastor let’s him take the reins like the good, supportive partner he is, of course — any fool who dares to touch HIS mate has earned the cruel fate lined up in store, especially those with less than savory intentions (and sue him if he thinks the sight of his lover reveling in the suffering of those who dare cross him is more beautiful and poetic than the stars and moon and oceans combined)

Despite her usual preaching of going for as little violence as possible, Charlie makes an allowance this one time; in fact, she’s their first caller. After all, these sinners are her family, and woe betold you when you mess with the Princess of Hell’s family. Vaggie is only slightly perturbed by this reaction, but the soft look of pure adoration on her lover’s face as they listen in on the broadcast with the rest of the gang, languidly giving a stretched out Vark in their lap head pats, is worth the future nightmares, she reasons.

I didn't do the whole prompt, but I did my best! I hope you enjoy it, anon ^-^ I also included it in my 'A Month In Rut' series so it's vague enough to keep it spoiler-free of any unreleased chapters!

[king-midas-fortnite]

Journal Entry: The Island Shifts

Midas jots down some thoughts on the changes

The island has changed again. I think there were a number of us who felt a shift coming. I'm glad I had taken the yacht further off shore before it happened. As well I am glad Valeria agreed to come with me. I know it was not easy for her to leave. Her railway station was already gone, but Glacier still stood. She was already there when I had called her, gathering a few items of sentiment and just...saying goodbye, I'm sure.

Walking away from anything you hold dear for the last time is incredibly difficult. She seems to be handling the change well enough, though I am not surprised by this.

Deadpool Wade was here as well. At least, I know he was towards the start. The man has a habit of popping in and out of my peripheral vision. However, I haven't seen him on board since the change. He probably made a quick exit to look around himself.

A guest I am less happy for, but nonetheless resigned to accept, is Kado. I extended a "hand" (bastard) to him as a courtesy to Valeria. We have not spoken since our altercation. When he attacked me for making a joke or two at his expense when some "unimportant" documents of his got leaked out. Unimportant enough to try and kill me over, evidently. Regardless, he joined on the yacht as well to wait everything out.

He's been tense the whole time, on edge as he watches the skies closely. For what specifically, I have no clue.

At one point there had been a number of those rift butterflies that had come down to the boat. Many of which seemed keen on Val, landing on her shoulders and hands. It was nice to see her smile at them. Nice, too, to see a few flutter into Kado's eyes as he was swatting and hissing.

Anyway, an island I know all too well is back. Everything here feels so painfully nostalgic. This island was home to me in many ways, but it's very different than it was before.

The Agency is back, but it's clearly not the one I knew. It's someone else's. All the hard work of my past sitting in the middle of the island, a monolith to my failures covered in tacky dogs and flourishes as if to mock me personally. The Zero Point sure does have a funny way of making me feel that way.

That's not even to mention the other version of me that's here now. This...Meowscles/Me creature. I simply cannot spend too much time thinking about him before I get a headache. I'll just keep my own yacht moored by Sweaty Sands, away from his for now.

I will make contact, I don't doubt that we'd have enough to talk about to get along. I just...I don't think I need to explain why a version of me that is also my feline friend is a tad uncomfortable.

Regardless, the island I know best is back in a strange way. Not the change I expected in the least, but it is what it is.

The Underworld being gone (hopefully returned to its rightful plain of existence), is a monumental weight off my chest. Hades already owes me for dealing with Mephisto and returning his rule to him, but it is an extra boone to not have to see my own personal hell sitting in the distance.

I expected the souls that speak to me in my vulnerable moments to have left with it, but they remain. They stubbornly cling to me like glue. I imagine they'll be with me forever. At least they still grant me the shade step.

Perhaps with Mizuki's offer for help, I'll learn to live in harmony with these voices, rather than merely tolerate. A quandary for another time. For now, I have much to learn about this island and it's differences.

My main concern is naturally what lies underneath the "Doggpound". I know it is no longer my building, but I can't imagine it isn't here for much the same purpose. If the same hubris befalls whoever is in charge...

I hope we can avoid another flood. Reminder: Unless discussed, these are not "public" to other Tumblrverse characters. Okay to reblog, but please do not roleplay on journal entries!

[docholligay]

Transit

“Oh, I mean, last time,” I say with a chuckle of hubris, spitting in the eye of God, “we’d come up around the Strawberry Fest*, and the train was so packed in--you know, it was, everyone was leaving at the same time, so we had to stand--” 

“I think we lost each other.” Bel adds.

“Yeah, I was telling Jill, ‘fuck it, we’ll find them in Ely, it’s not very big.’” I have a broad smile, a fool, an idiot, and I shake my head at my mom, “But it’s not like that, the winter fair.” 

And you what? I was telling the truth. It was not the same as the Strawberry Fair, and the issues we encountered were not the same as the ones from Strawberry Fair, but my grand silliness was in assuming there would be no problem at all. 

Come with me, on a tale of not exactly woe, but perhaps a very exciting 20 minutes in some other nation’s history as we attempted to get back to Ely. 

Background information:

It is COLD. This is coming from me, Lord High Chancellor of “y’all don’t know from cold, I am so very manly tee hee” it was fucking cold, alright? In the realm of 30F/-1C, which, back home, is chilly I’ll say, but not such a huge deal as to attract notice. But. This country is wet**. This country is so fucking wet. This country is a kitchen sponge continually being misted with ice cold water. Stepping outside is the equivalent of being smacked in the face with a damp wool sweater. It takes my hair, my fine, short hair, an hour to dry. And so, we are walking through clouds on the verge of freezing. 

Taking into account the above, and also the fact that I am both proud and an idiot, my feet are completely numb. I’m not saying much, but I’m having trouble keeping my feet under me. Doc, what does this have to do with being proud and an idiot? I chose the cute shoes that day, friends, with naught but a wool sock and a thin leather sole between me and the ground. It was, how do you say, unwise. 

If we miss this train (Read: cluster of trains) we will be trapped in Cambridge for the better part of an hour or so. 

To be perfectly arrogant, in addition to being proud and an idiot, I can bear up under quite a bit, and simply set feeling anything to the side in pursuit of an experience. I forget that other people are not necessarily built that way, and my mother is very tired and a bit dead on her feet. 

In conclusion, we have to get this train back to Ely. 

Dani (cleverly (?--we report you decide)) spots a train going to Birmingham by way of Ely, which’ll take off sooner than the one we were originally planning on taking. Excellent! Brilliant, as they say, even. It also gave me an idea of what a Cross Country train, which I will later be taking to Birmingham, looks like. It seems fine, which is broadly how I would describe most of the trains in the UK that are not EMR, where hope goes to die. We sit, chatting. It’s lovely. We laugh about not wanting to go to Birmingham. What a delightful time. 

And then, that angel’s trumpet of coming destruction: The vioce of a calm British man on a trainline. “This train will be delayed as the driver is stuck in Cambridge traffic.” What can I do but start laughing? As I understand it, the Mill Road Winter Fair is one of two great calamities that befall Cambridge a year, and it dovetails with interview week***. Apparently, this is not largely known to people who presumably should know better, and so here we are, sitting on a train to Birmingham, discussing our options about switching to another, better, perhaps faster train. 

I look at Dani and Bel with the same sort of look, I imagine, that people give me when we’re in the woods and I ask if they want to go along the ridge or if they’d rather drop down into the valley. I understand the words they are saying, but I do not understand the implicatons of them. We’re going to stay on, declares Dani, with a sense of assuredness that comes when you have a train in the hand versus two in the bush, and we all agree that this seems as good an idea as any. 

For a few minutes, at least. 

And then, the voice of the announcing angel comes again, and tells us that anyone going to Ely should really consider getting off the train, as they aren’t sure when the driver will be there and the train the next platform over is terminating at Ely. Oh, by the by, that train leaves in three minutes. 

A wave of humanity rises as if in a Japanese woodcut, all moving in a herd toward the platform across the station. Now, for my American and Canadian readers, at the very least, let me explain how a smaller train station in the UK looks. They aren’t big, particularly, but because of how trains work, to get to another platform, you have to go over or under, generally over, with a set of stairs****. An entire crowd of people is running to the stairs, running up and over the platform in a desperate bid to not be stranded in Cambridge. As we run up the stairs, a voice assures and disappoints, that the train to Ely will be delayed, and, in my extreme foolishness and naive trust of the “National” Rail “””System”””, I think, “Lovely! They’re holding the train for us!” 

OH DOC DOC. 

We make it to the other platform, and the train, my friends, my companions, is not even there. Leaving in three minutes, my god. So now we watch. The train to Birmingham is helpfully being delayed minute by minute, as the second it turns 16:13, the train will be leaving at 16:13, until, of course, it is 16:14, and then the train will be leaving at that time. Our train to Ely, however, exists in that mysterious liminal space of merely ~delayed~, which keeps things fresh and exciting. 

Which will take off first? We eye the Birmingham train across the distance, nearly daring it to leave before thhe train to Ely even arrives, looking at each other on the platform, eyes dashing about like frightened animals. From where will relief come? Is there any escape from Cambridge? 

There are many opportunities to place bets here, as suddenly, a third horse enters the race! 

A train to Norwich, via Ely, pulls into the station next tot he train to Birmingham. Apparently Ely is a good place to go through, if not rest at. We turn to each other. I have not the knowledge to divine the future, and turn thus to my oracles of public transportation, they who dwell in the Fens and hear the whispers of the eels, who follow the rivers of iron on boats run by the capricious gods of Great Northern and CrossCountry. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have any clue what to do either. The delight of the British train system is that it is happy to supplly you with the ability to make many wrong choices. We debate. We watch. 

We crawl BACK across the stairs and platform, and get on the train to Norwich. 

As we sit, the train to Birmingham pulls away. 

*This is the wrong name for it, but it’s also what I said, so, [sic]

**I keep saying this, and Dani keeps saying, “Is it? I think it’s been a bit dry.” and I am mere moments from popping her in the face, wherein water will gush from her like a sodden foam ball. 

***This is, apparently, the one week where they do every single interview for The Smart Youths to see if they’re getting into Cambridge. What a low stress environment. Fantastic idea. 

****I was absolutely unaware of this when I previously went to the UK, and sent an email to Dani trying to ask about how difficult it was to change trains, but my question about what the fuck a train station even looks like was so basic that it took two or three emails before she even understood what I was asking. So I am here for you, my fellow Americans.

[anna-the-undertaker]

Dungeons and Devils: Evil MC finale

MCs luck has run dry, and the party has struck them down (or MC is tired of playing and lets Luke win) -

Luke: MC...

MC: The former cleric returns from the dead... just as I predicted.

Luke: What has happened to you?

MC: What fate decreed for me.

Luke: What do you mean? How could you cause all this misery and strife?

MC: *scoffs* I am no longer the oracle mortals come to for guidance. It was always my fate to die at their hands. It was always my omission that they and the gods would no longer have need of me. All I could do was reshape the end that would befall me no matter what I did. So I brought forth the end of this world, and it's gods so that new ones could rise from their ashes.

Luke: And if they don't?! What if you have extinguished them long before that is possible?!

MC: Then that is what fate decreed for them.

Luke: Why do you keep talking about fate?! When you were the oracle, you taught mortals to forge their own destiny!

MC: And they did.... through their own hubris. There are some things that can not be avoided... that can not be changed... like my death.

Luke: This suffering... is it penance or your solution? To die here while mortals beg and plead to be saved?

MC: I have always heard them... every lie, every prayer, every shout, and every scream... I heard you when you cried out to the gods when they cast you from their hallowed halls... would you like to know the price I paid to keep you alive? The portion of my remaining power I sacrificed so that you might survive to lead the others to me?

Luke: You didn't need to carry this burden on your own!

MC: You speak of having helped fulfill my visions... when my body was taken from me, I already knew there was no changing what was to come. There is nothing any of you could have done.

Luke: MC, I-

MC: None of you were ever my enemy... you're my gifts to the new world. Your roles were preordained - shining beacons who will usher in a new age.

And only in death will my duty to this world end... Do what you must, Cleric. I entrust the rest to you.

Luke, on the verge of crying: May you finally find peace. *rolls for final blow and succeeds, bringing the game to its end.*

[tlcartist]

I finished reading SBR AND I HAVE THOUGHTS

Going to focus on my favorite moment, how it ended up being the overall theme for part 7, and how it came back for the ending. Long read, spoilers ahead.

The initial moment I'm talking about is in Vol 12. This was the moment that REALLY got me invested in Johnny and Gyro's story and it was also the turning point in their relationship. Up until this point you could view their alliance as something mostly rooted in convenience. They both had goals that were adjacent to each other, but they also had an understanding that if their goals were no longer aligned then they'd go their separate ways without a second thought. It was transactional. Don't get in my way and I'll lend you a hand as long as it doesn't slow me down. They had common enemies but really couldn't be described as friends per se. At least not until this moment.

Johnny, whose entire disability was brought about by his own hubris and a moment of selfishness, the boy who has only recently begun to understand his stand abilities and feel hope over his condition improving, is given a choice. Does he sacrifice Gyro to keep the corpse parts which he fought so hard to collect in the first place? Or does he let the corpse parts go to save the life of someone who he's not even that close to? Does he choose himself or someone else?

And this is a huge turning point for Johnny's character as a whole. This leads to him making an incredibly selfless decision, one which goes against his instincts and which even Gyro seems surprised by.

This is it. This is the moment when Gyro realizes that Johnny is more than just a traveling companion. He knows exactly how much those corpse parts meant to Johnny. He can see the despair that he's fallen into and yet it's clear that Johnny doesn't regret his decision or hold any resentment towards him, and it's in that moment that Gyro realizes he would have done the exact same thing for him.

Imagine my surprise when Johnny has to make a similar decision at the end of SBR, but in the opposite direction.

Valentine, in a desperate attempt to save his own hide, offers the one thing that Johnny can't refuse. The chance for him to see Gyro again and let him live. He bends over backwards and swears up and down that he has good intentions and that no harm will befall either of them and Johnny wants to believe it more than anything. He is once again given a choice. Does he make the selfish choice to give Valentine the corpse in exchange for his friend or does he make the selfless choice and let him go?

It's a fascinating exchange because as Johnny is questioning Valentine and asking him to prove his good intentions, it feels more like he's trying to convince himself that Valentine is trustworthy than the other way around.

He's trying to convince himself that saving Gyro is the better option even though, as painful as it is, he knows deep down that it isn't. He knows that the Gyro who would be brought to his universe wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be his Gyro. He knows that Valentine is a smooth talker who can't be trusted. He knows that no matter what justification Valentine gives for his actions, that they were always motivated by a desire for power and personal gain.

And so he makes what is, most likely, the most difficult decision of his life. He tests Valentine one more time.

Valentine, being the bastard that he is, can't resist the opportunity to kill Johnny. And with that, Gyro is lost forever. It's just a really powerful moment and ties back to vol. 12 beautifully.

This is the overall theme of SBR. The idea of self sacrifice and letting things go for the greater good.

I'm just so proud of these characters and how they grew over time both in their relationship and as people overall. It was an honor to go on this journey with you boys.

Cheers, and to the next part and the goal.

[askadrianalucardtepes]

What was scarier? Learning how to fly, teleport or sword fight?

"Prooobably the swordfighting. With the other two I knew I had a safety net as I learned to master then: My father would make sure no harm would befall me. But he could not protect me of my youthful hubris once I had a sword in my hands... My poor childhood self had to endure many, many cuts and nicks. Some of my childhood dumbassery will forever haunt me."

[over-the-time-flow]

On the enemy turn, the last remaining Daughtress aims for Noin, misses, and gets chunked. Just then, the consequences of my hubris befall me!

The Grandeene was able to charge up its MAP attack! good heavens, whatever will we-

...

In any case, the two Gundams finally start moving torwards us, and then it's back to our turn.

On our turn, i have Fa cast Luck and shoot down the remaining Grandeene for that sweet payout. We would have made more of a profit if i'd saved that for Olba, but I want to try and shoot down actual bosses with their respective enemies wherever possible.

Sorry Fa, i know you too have a lot of personal investment in your conflict with the Frost Brothers.

Garrod shoots down the final non-boss enemy.

And seeing as he was polite enough to walk right into Roybea's range, i decide to get to work on weakening Olba.

Roybea: "That Gundam certainly isn't my type!" Olba: "That Gundam... isn't fit to be my destined rival."

the only takeaway i've gotten from this is that you two have very different tastes in gundam design

also, pictured: me failing to realize that if olba can attack from there, he's probably not gonna come closer next turn

Instead of moving anybody closer, i figure they'll come closer next turn and leave everyone parked.

That's not quite what happens.

Shagia: "So that's a Gundam too... Interesting." Witz: "Damn you, Frost brothers! I'll get you back for this, just you watch!"

Olba, on the other hand, aims for Roybea and just gets Gatling'd again. Back to our turn!

[gloriouslyscentedwizard]

Florida cold fronts sure do humble me. I live my warm florida life, happy, carefree, full of hubris. And then the temp drops to like 60° and suddenly I am a shivering lonely babe in the woods, crying, desperate for any warmth. What evils shall befall me, I think, as I face this sudden arctic tundra.

[takenene]

don't sew in your bed, they say. if you lose your needle, you could jab yourself really badly, they say.

but i am always so careful! i think in my infinite hubris, for i have never lost a needle to the blanket sea before. what cruel misfortune could possibly befall me? i think, heedless of the peril that's already waiting, hidden, in the softness around.

[proxys-m]

My own Hubris Befalls me, I am but a small creature lying screaming on the floor while god taunts me with a toy on a string while laughing in my face. I will never forgive the cruel being leaving me befuddled at every turn.

[waspsnest]

the magnus archives: the animated series, episode 132, Entombed

[see-arcane]

Barking Harker: The Dracula sequel I guess I’m making

(Scraps of Dracula spoilers below)

This honestly started as a running joke with myself.

Between Dracula Daily and rereading the novel in a speedrun in the interim and generally letting my brain chew this old story apart like an over-loved dog toy, I started cooking this idea in the background. One that had some seeds in my Jonathan Harker rambles. The gist of which discuss (SPOILERS):

1. Jonathan Harker’s eerie-to-inhuman alterations after his time in Castle Dracula.

2. Theories as to what specific entity and/or cryptid Jonathan Harker might be.

3. Exactly how ride or die Jonathan Harker is for Mina. Rather, ride and die. And kill. And anything else required to ensure Mina continues to exist and that he shares whatever fate befalls her. To a spicy and outright sacrilegious extent. There’s some very literal Faustian ready-to-sell-my-soul intensity from our sweetheart solicitor when it comes to his beloved.

The combination of all this was stirred into one of my longest-running pet peeves about the novel.

Specifically, that for all the zesty gothic goodness promised by the opening stay in Castle Dracula—a portion of the book I’m convinced could’ve been its own novel or novella—we don’t really get everything out of it that we could. No more than we get another glimpse of Count Dracula at his most uncomfortably intimate and intimidating after that section. Following Jonathan’s unpleasant business trip, it’s all about Dracula in the shadows, sinking his teeth into England, and harassing the ensemble cast. Which is a great story! Obviously! ‘Ancient monster man coming to haunt and menace the unprepared modern characters’ is a fun time.

But damn it, the first part of the book is still my favorite. Cornered Protagonist VS Overpowered Antagonist in a confined space, sinister supernatural goings-on, manipulative power plays, knife-twisting psychological warfare, and all the gothic trimmings. I wanted more! Just like I wanted to play with all the implications and potential surrounding Jonathan Harker’s whole weird deal.

And you know what? I wanted to cram more in there. This thing was a bowl of untainted cookie batter and I could pour a metric ton of chocolate chips* into it until I was satisfied.

(*Varied monsters. Cameos. Mind games. High Octane Fuckeduppedness.)

“I have a keyboard, an open Word doc, and no inhibitions!” I shouted in full Grecian hero hubris. “I can write this self-serving literary junk food if I feel like it! And I do! So I will!”

So I did. So I am. So much so that I’ve realized I maybe, possibly, actually am making something a wee bit beyond a little public domain fanfiction.

Note: This encompasses the first four chapters.

Uh oh.

I don’t want to jump ahead of myself. I’ve self-hyped over WIPs and books-in-potentia before, then burned myself out on the expectations I couldn’t reach, endlessly writing and deleting and rewriting in a Promethean loop that killed the whole thing. NaNoWriMo damn near gutted me the one time I dared it. Putting this pseudo-announcement up here is less of a Very Guaranteed Promise I Shall Complete This Work, but more of a low-key way to jab myself into sticking to it as best I can.

(Because it really is that much harder to drop a project when you’ve mentioned it out loud and can’t pretend otherwise.)

So, yeah. Without spoilers, I am currently working on an alternate ending sequel novel to Dracula, with the working title, Barking Harker. Features include a return to Castle Dracula, more horror, more menace, more bastardry, bogeymen, and bogeywomen all over. We’ve got vampires visiting from outside Transylvania. We’ve got werewolves. We’ve got ghosts. We’ve got strange dogs. We’ve got stranger professionals in the matter of vampires and assorted occult odds and ends. We’ve got murder and madness and and macabre nightmares galore.

Any folks out there who have enjoyed my rambles and ficlets pertaining to Dracula and company, you are invited to poke me with a virtual stick every now and then in the ensuing months. Even if you’re not interested, I ask that you channel the most irritating backseat driver voice you can to occasionally ask, Is it done yet? Is it done yet? Is it done yet? The mortifying ordeal of being known/caught in the act of slinking away from Yet Another Unfinished WIP is an underrated motivational tactic.

That said, cross your fingers for me. And maybe pray for our good friend, Jonathan Harker.

He’s going to need it.

[reginarubie]

The mythology series [Jonsa] ~ The story of Love and Psyche

So, after receiving a couple of lovely anons about some mythology parallels, my interest was piqued and my curiosity started to burn so I literally fell into the rabbit-hole of the possibility of mythology connecting to Jonsa and which characters can be connected to what myth...so yes, a new series of meta was born.

This is what happens when I am left unsupervised, just saying —

Anyway, one of the first metas I wanted to do was this one, connecting the history of Love and Psyche (which can be found inside the Golden Ass — Metamorphosis by Apuleius) and Jonsa especially considering my theory that while several women will fulfil part of Cersei prophecy, in the end Sansa will be the younger, more beautiful queen mainly because Cersei is an envious, spiteful creature and Sansa will end up, most probably, with everything Cersei wanted and no reason to hide (which will be, imo, what the ymbq prophecy is all about ‘to cast you down and take all you hold dear’).

So, without further ado, aside from the usual premises — no, I am not an expert, yes this is all for fun and yes, if you are an expert and know better please feel welcome to leave your input — let's hop onto this and let's see what we get out of it!

The History of Love and Psyche — the prophecy of the younger, more beautiful queen (Apuleius Metamorphosis vs GRRM Asoiaf)

The princess and the hidden winged god — The princess and the hidden dragon ‘prince’.

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.” — Sansa III, AGOT

As always, I cannot stress enough that these pieces of art do not belong to me, so credit to the artists. I just collect them on the net and put them together to make the meta aesthetically appeasing to my tastes, hope you enjoy!

First of all, let's brush up our knowledge of the myth itself.

Love and Psyche (Apuleius, Metamorphosis — the golden ass) history of love and healing and trust

So, the story goes this way, Psyche was the daughter of a king, a princess, and she was so beautiful that she was compared to the goddess Venus, whose beauty she was believed not only to compare but to surpass as well (shrines were risen for her, and she was venerated as the Venus of the earth, no matter the girl modesty, who seemed to be against this), Venus, capricious and spiteful, furious for the comparison and the hubris, ordered her son, Cupid to make the beautiful Psyche fall in love with the ugliest, most hideous man on earth to whom she was to be married with all haste by her people. 

But Cupid, saw Psyche and distracted by her beauty accidentally pinched himself with his own arrow and fell in love with her, thus he instructed the wind (Zephirus) to take her to his enchanted palace of which she would be the mistress as his woman. 

Cupid, for her own safety, joined her only by night and prohibited her to see him — falsely posing as her ugly, monstrous husband — and while she had everything she desired, she still felt lonely as she was essentially alone but for the nights, and she couldn't even see her own husband's face. Cupid, so taken he was by his love for her, was moved by her pleas and let her invite her sisters to her palace for a visit, in fact before this meeting her whole family believed her dead because she had ‘disappeared’, so that she might feel less alone. 

The sisters convince Psyche to discover the truth behind the ‘kind husband’ she seemed to have, to see the truth of his ugliness with her own eyes and spurned by them, Psyche disobeyed Cupid's order and one night took a lantern and shed light to her sleeping husband's face, troubled by his ethereal beauty and in awe she let one drop of melted candle befall on his shoulder rousing him from his sleep. 

Betrayed and angered by her behaviour Cupid left her and flew away, to confess to his mother his indiscretion and betrayal of her order; Psyche, meanwhile, distraught searched for her husband left and right and ended up speaking to Venus herself. 

The woman took the chance immediately to extract her revenge and took the girl as her own servant and slave, mistreating her and imposing of her four terrible, apparently impossible quests. But Psyche beloved by her husband was helped by his servants — ants helped her in her first quest to sort through seeds; a reed counselled her to mow the wool in the night while the men-eater sheep slept and finally an eagle drew water from the Styx for her — at last Venus sent her to retrieve for her a ointment of beauty held by Proserpine. 

Convinced she was to fail she almost flung herself from a tower, but at last she managed to collect the ampoule but was warned not to open it. Her curiosity piqued Psyche opened the ampoule only to fall into an enchanted sleep.

Meanwhile Cupid, sad and missing his wife, went in search of her and found her, he woke her and to protect her from his mother he brought her to Mount Olympus where he convinced Zeus to let her drink the nectar of the gods, making of her a goddess and marrying her publicly before all the Gods. 

How does that fit the Jonsa ship?, well it does. 

I have already spoken of how Cersei fits part of the traits of Venus (x), and if we put in perspective Cersei as Venus (as well as Daenerys does the same with the eastern-values coded Venuses), Tyrion as the hideous man Psyche/Sansa was supposed to fall in love... well, it does start to resemble a pattern.

Let's make a check list to see if we got all the possibilities straight:

spiteful Venus-symbolised character —› Cersei Lannister ☑️

very beautiful, younger woman who is a ‘younger, more beautiful described as modest and polite, collected and courteous’ version of Venus-symbolised character —› Sansa Stark ☑️

said girl is also a princess —› Sansa Stark as princess in the North to her brother, Robb Stark, king in the North ☑️

the Venus-symbolised character decides to ‘punish’ the younger princess and does so by asking her son to have her fall in love and marry an hideous monster —› Joffrey Baratheon, Cersei's son, gives Sansa away in marriage to the Imp ☑️

The ‘son’ is distracted by the girl's beauty and ends up hitting himself with the love-arrow and falls in love with her, then steals her instead of letting her be married and fall in love with the hideous, monstrous man —› Jon and Sansa are both connected with the custom of “stealing” in respect to love, and with Jon being Rhaegar (Cersei' idolised crush) and Lyanna (her unbeatable rival) son could actually fit also the ‘son’ trope, especially Cupid is in some myths depicted as the son of Nyx (the dark-haired goddess of night) ☑️

he remains hidden from her, only sharing her bed during the night and she cannot know his true identity for her own safety from his ‘spurned’ parent —› Jon's real identity is unknown to Sansa, and it might remain for a bit even after Jon learns of it, for safety reasons (Robert's fury would've known no boundaries; and who knows how Daenerys, his aunt, might react to it in the books) as if Sansa doesn't know she cannot be held accountable for it ☑️ 

the princess discovers the truth out of her own curiosity —› Sansa will discover Jon's identity (probably out of her own manoeuvring to understand why Jon's acting strange) ☑️  

Cupid runs back to the ‘spurned’ parent and confesses his ‘treason’ in hope to obtain the trust and absolution of said parent —› Jon might use the rightly timed revelation of his parentage to obtain Daenerys' trust ☑️

The spurned parent (either Cersei or Daenerys — by what happened in the show I might be more inclined to say Daenerys, but by the books I'd be more inclined toward Cersei) asks of the girl (searching for her lost husband) a series of quests and sacrifices —› if we go by the show Daenerys does ask plenty of Sansa, her hospitality as well as her troops without a care of how they are physically, it wouldn't surprise me if either Daenerys or Cersei could try to use Sansa's marriage to Tyrion to close her in a corner and demand of her fealty; Cersei could also impose any kind of request on her, if they ever were to meet again with Cersei having the upper-hand because of the role she thinks Sansa played in the murder of Joffrey ☑️

the family of the girl believes her dead or unreachable —› Sansa Stark is supposed dead and disappeared after Joffrey's death ☑️ 

Psyche manages (with help she gets thanks to her being beloved by her husband's people and her husband) to bring to fruition the quests set before her (I will digress on them later). 

at last Cupid, in love with his wife, finds her when she's in peril, saves her (wakes her) and brings her to safety to go to Zeus (the father of the gods — Ned?, will he asks Ned's statue if what he's doing is correct? Possibly, surely Ned's memory is going to come in play if we ever get a more romantically involved Jonsa) — and his pleas are so endearing to him that he sanctions his favoured nephew's/grandson marriage (in some myths Eros is one of Zeus' cousins/nephews and in others he's his grandson; in any case Zeus is the father of the Gods and thus is the ‘head of Eros' House’ to say it in an asoiaf manner; the same way as Ned was).  

—› It's also possible that Jon might ask his aunt to facilitate his protection of Sansa against Cersei, but I sincerely doubt this other possibility. Also, Ned fits better as he is often representing the Father of the Seven Gods of the Faith of the Seven. —› Jon saves Sansa (and the rest of his siblings) from a threat that will have them all put to death (and death is eternal sleep) in the show, and in the books we have evidence that this will be repeated as Jon dies the ultimate Stark protector (as he is killed because he chooses to run to his sister, Arya's aide), he will probably serve a similar purpose even toward Sansa in the books once he has reawaken from death.

So, to me it looks like a pattern, does it to you?

Let's see if other quotes (both from book and show, but if they are taken from the show I'm taking earlier seasons since back then Martin was still pretty much involved so we can consider them canon) can further this conviction of mine.

A princess of maidenly majesty and a spurned goddess

So, in the myth Psyche is the daughter of a king, a princess, of the land of the west, so beautiful and maidenly majestic that there was no other beauty that could surmount her on earth (in their lands) and this spurned the people of the city to be devout to her and come to see her and love her, admiring her beauty and showering her in tokens going to the point they venerate her, to the point they stopped venerating Venus and started venerating her, though Psyche felt her beauty as a curse as she was alone (as no one seemed to love her for herself but love her divine beauty) still the fact that men had forgotten her and preferred another to her, had Venus in a rage. 

There was sometimes a certain king, inhabiting in the west parts, who had to wife a noble dame, (...) yet, the singular passing beauty and maidenly majesty of the youngest daughter, did so far surmount and excel them two, as no earthly creature could by any means sufficiently express or set out the same (...)

Now, that Sansa is the daughter of Ned Stark (descent and father to kings) and of lady Catelyn Tully (a noble lady of a great House) it's known thing, she's also a princess to her brother, Robb Stark and she fits this trope of maidenly majesty perfectly, also:

(...) Psyche will all of her beauty received no fruit of her honour. She was wondered at of all, praised of all, but she perceived that no king nor prince, no any of the inferior sort did repair to woo her (...) the virgin Psyche sitting at home alone, lamented her solitary life, and being disquieted both in mind and body, although she pleased all the world, yet hated she in herself her own beauty.

There are a couple of passages that remind me of these, but some of it comes from the show as well. We know that Martin was very much involved in the first few seasons of the series so I feel like by citing some of the scenes of the earlier seasons of the show we are also speaking of canon, as they were supervised and accepted by Martin. 

For one, the scene of Sansa at the docks with LF, with Shae and Ros speaking behind them, and Ros asking Shae to defend Sansa and protect her from her enemies, telling the other woman that she was born in Winter town and that the day Sansa was born they rang the bells from sunrise to sunset, which always suggested to me how beloved Sansa as Ned Stark's daughter was, on the principle of her being Ned's daughter, and because of her charming nature as well. We usually focus more on people of the north loving Arya but I think that is intention by GRRM because it's something both Arya and Sansa focus upon and it will come back in with a whiplash when Sansa reaches the North and finds that love and belonging she had been searching South, there where she had been before. 

For second the scene during the Battle of  the Black waters, when Cersei asks Sansa, in bookTyrion fashion, what she's doing and when Sansa replies she's praying, Cersei demands, nastily “You're perfect, don't you?”; which always struck me as strange, since in the books this conversation happens before the siege and it's between Tyrion and Sansa and there is none of the nastiness the show gave us, though I think, again that it was intentional to set up Sansa and Cersei as the younger and older queen. 

The thought made Sansa weary. All she knew of Robert Arryn was that he was a little boy, and sickly. It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. — Sansa VI, ASOS

This quote makes me think of Psyche, sitting alone and lonely, and feeling unloved personally even if they love her ‘divine beauty’/‘claim’. 

—› also, Lysa herself can also fulfil part of the role of Venus, as she herself is envious and spiteful and jealous of Sansa because she feels like Sansa is stealing her husband; in the same way as Cersei was fearful that Sansa might be the younger, more beautiful queen of the prophecy. And she too tries to marry Sansa to someone that doesn't fit the premises of the promise Ned made Sansa (Robert Arryn).

Lysa was as lonely as she was (...) I am not going back to sleep, Sansa realized. My head is all a tumult.  — Sansa VII, ASOS

I guess this doesn't need explanation really, Sansa's head is in tumult like Psyche's. 

No prayers are answered here, she often thought, though some days she felt so lonely she had to try (...) The Eyrie was such a lonely place that she was eager for any bit of news from the world beyond, however trivial or insignificant. — Alayne II, AFFC

Also, Sansa has long since learned to see how people don't wish to know her but just exploit her claim and her position and the perception they have of her as a weak link, as when she thinks of Margaery's retinue and of how they are putting up a farce, but they don't actually wish to know her in truth. 

Sansa's wish for love, is also remarkably similar to Psyche wishing to be loved for herself and not for her divine beauty; also, I always associated Psyche hating her beauty with Sansa begrudging her own naïveté:

“The night’s first traitors,” the queen said, “but not the last, I fear. Have Ser Ilyn see to them, and put their heads on pikes outside the stables as a warning.” As they left, she turned to Sansa. “Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.” 

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

— Sansa VII, ACOK

They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They've never seen a battle, they've never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way hers had been before Joffrey cut her father's head off. Sansa pitied them. Sansa envied them. — Sansa II, ASOS

“You have your mother's eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent.(...)” — Sansa I, AFFC

Cersei, in a first moment, believes Sansa's is the younger, more beautiful queen of the prophecy and I have already digress as to why I think Sansa in a sense will be it, because she will achieve everything Cersei wanted without the need to hide it, while the others might, instead fulfil other pieces of the prophecy (x), and I think it's so also because of this specific quote:

"Please," she finished, "you have to let me marry Joffrey, I'll be ever so good a wife to him, you'll see. I'll be a queen just like you, I promise."  — Sansa IV, AGOT

Can I take a moment to appreciate that to Sansa her first wish is that of love over that of power?, how are displayed her priorities as she begs Cersei?

being a ‘ever so good wife’ to Joffrey (love)

being a queen (good) just like Cersei (power and love)

Love comes first. No wonder Sansa will probably end up being truly the younger, more beautiful queen.

I feel like Cersei' reaction in the show at this heartfelt declaration gives us quite the introspective tumble in Cersei's mind:

See how perturbed she is by it?, imo it is another nudge to Sansa ending up with everything Cersei wanted for herself, without having to hide. 

Anyway, back on track. 

The beautiful maiden condemned to be married and fall in love with an hideous, monstrous looking man 

In asoiaf is more complex than Venus simply condemning Psyche and her family for her hubris (though that comes in place as well, as it becomes a matter of how dare the Starks turn from loyal bannermen to the king, Joffrey, to rebelling kings?), in the end the result is the same, though. Cersei's son, Joffrey gives Sansa away as bride to his uncle, the Imp, who is rendered even more monstrous by the scar on his face.

"I won't ask for whom." His mouth twisted oddly; if that was a smile, it was the queerest she had ever seen. "This day may change all. For you as well as for House Lannister. I ought to have sent you off with Tommen, now that I think on it. Still, you should be safe enough in Maegor's, so long as—" — Sansa V, ACOK

"My lady," Tyrion said, "you are lovely, make no mistake, but... I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little." His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister.

Look at him, Sansa told herself, look at your husband, at all of him, Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try. She stared at the stunted legs, the swollen brutish brow, the green eye and the black one, the raw stump of his nose and crooked pink scar, the coarse tangle of black and gold hair that passed for his beard. Even his manhood was ugly, thick and veined, with a bulbous purple head. This is not right, this is not fair, how have I sinned that the gods would do this to me, how? — Sansa III, ASOS

Sansa is married off to the Imp, while albeit gentle from time to time (and I've already discussed how this ‘kindness’ is basic human decency and even there he somewhat falls short in a previous ask that compared Jaime and Brienne bath scene and Tyrion and Sansa wedding night scene, x) is monstrous looking and has done monstrous things, Martin himself describes him as a villain. And, who marries her off to the Imp?, Cersei is there when Sansa prepares for her wedding to show her off and Joffrey, Cersei's son walks Sansa down the aisle, making sure Sansa is married off to Tyrion in the same way as Venus asked Cupid to have Psyche fall in love and marry an hideous and monstrous looking man.

When the moonstones hung from Sansa’s ears and about her neck, the queen nodded. “Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You are a lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle.” “What gargoyle?” Sansa did not understand.

Can we take a moment to speak about this?, Cersei is spiteful that she herself is supposed to be marrying again and with someone she doesn't want — she even begs her lord father not to make her do it again, not that he cares — and takes her victories where she can. The use of the word ‘almost obscene’ makes us see the satisfaction in her, Sansa will never be the younger, more beautiful queen and Cersei can focus on keeping Margaery in her place without worrying about Sansa. And she even japes at her expanses.

—› What more the use of the term ‘gargoyle’, an hideous creature whose scary face is used to inspire fear used in respect to Tyrion hints toward two things: a) Tyrion being the monstrous man Sansa should marry and love if Cersei had her way (to keep her un-rebelling) and b) Tyrion ending up being the one who pushes Daenerys down the last step of the stair she is already descending (as there are gargoyles on the walls of Dragonstone, together with wyverns and dragons).

Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain. A maiden's cloak. Sansa's hand went to her throat. She would have torn the thing away if she had dared. "You're prettier with your mouth closed, Sansa," Cersei told her. "Come along now, the septon is waiting. And the wedding guests as well."

And reality hits Sansa, until that moment she was unaware she was supposed to marry Tyrion, they ambushed her and Cersei was the one to tell her of her ‘condemnation’ to marry the Imp (just like Venus was the one who condemned Psyche)

“No,” Sansa blurted. “No.” “Yes. You are a ward of the crown. The king stands in your father’s place, since your brother is anattainted traitor. That means he has every right to dispose of your hand. You are to marry my brother Tyrion.” My claim, she thought, sickened. Dontos the Fool was not so foolish after all; he had seen the truth of it. Sansa backed away from the queen. “I won’t.” I’m to marry Willas, I’m to be the lady of Highgarden,please . . . “I understand your reluctance. Cry if you must. In your place, I would likely rip my hair out. He’s a loathsome little imp, no doubt of it, but marry him you shall.” “You can’t make me.” “Of course we can. You may come along quietly and say your vows as befits a lady, or you may struggle and scream and make a spectacle for the stableboys to titter over, but you will end up wedded and bedded all the same.” The queen opened the door. Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Osmund Kettleblack were waiting without, in the white scale armor of the Kingsguard. “Escort Lady Sansa to the sept,” she told them. “Carry her if you must, but try not to tear the gown, it was very costly.”

Doesn't this make you think of a sacrifice? The ‘sacrifice’ Psyche became to make sure Venus' ire was quenched? It does to me.

“I’ll go.” Cersei smiled. “I knew you would.”

(...)

Joffrey himself was waiting for her on the steps of the castle sept. The king was resplendent in crimson and gold, his crown on his head. "I'm your father today," he announced. "You're not," she flared. "You'll never be." His face darkened. "I am. I'm your father, and I can marry you to whoever I like. To anyone. You'll marry the pig boy if I say so, and bed down with him in the sty." His green eyes glittered with amusement. "Or maybe I should give you to Ilyn Payne, would you like him better?" Her heart lurched. "Please, Your Grace," she begged. "If you ever loved me even a little bit, don't make me marry your—" — Sansa III, ASOS

So, Cersei and Joffrey (Venus and Cupid) marry Sansa to the hideous looking Imp, and he later abuses emotionally (as I've said in the post linked above when I consider the bath scene of Jaime and Brienne and the wedding night of Sansa and Tyrion, so I won't digress further here).

The stealing of Psyche ~ the maiden and the thief, or the maiden is the thief?

In the myth Cupid distracted by Psyche beauty ends up pinching himself with his own arrow and falls helplessly in love with Psyche, thus, refusing to have her marry the hideous looking man, he has his servant, the wind (Zephyr) steal her away from her wedding and brought to his enchanted palace.

Both Jon and Sansa are connected with the theme of the custom of stealing in the thematic of love, and what more... they both are connected with bird imaginery: Jon as a crow (and his red-head crow wife, but I digress) and Sansa as a little bird/little dove.

 She ran her fingers lightly across his stomach. "I feared you'd do the same once. Fly back to the Wall. You never knew what t' do after you stole me." Jon sat up. "Ygritte, I never stole you." "Aye, you did. You jumped down the mountain and killed Orell, and afore I could get my axe you had a knife at my throat. I thought you'd have me then, or kill me, or maybe both, but you never did. And when I told you the tale o' Bael the Bard and how he plucked the rose o' Winterfell, I thought you'd know to pluck me then for certain, but you didn't. You know nothing, Jon Snow." She gave him a shy smile. "You might be learning some, though." — Jon III, ASOS

First, Jon is again connected to the bird imaginery and flying away from Ygritte, then Ygritte claims he has stolen her to which he replies he hasn't and Ygritte tries to convince him he has, and ends up admitting he might be learning something. Spoiler alert: that knowledge won't be used on Ygritte.

"I look forward to a spirited discussion." Ser Roland swung down from his horse, turned to Alayne, and smiled. "I had heard that Lord Littlefinger's daughter was fair of face and full of grace, but no one ever told me that she was a thief." “You wrong me, ser, I am no thief!” Ser Roland placed his hand over his heart. "Then how do you explain this hole in my chest, from where you stole my heart?" — Alayne I, WOW

Dawn stole into her garden like a thief. The grey of the sky grew lighter still, and the trees and shrubs turned a dark green beneath their stoles of snow. — Sansa VII, ASOS

All the while Sansa is disguising herself as LF's baseborn daughter and LF's personal sigil is the mockingbird, again with the bird imaginery (and Sansa has just fled KL, and people already are saying she flew away from the keep as a wolf with bat-like wings). I've already spoken about the romantic hue given to the quote from Sansa VII, ASOS in a previous ask, x; and of how it hints to both Jon and Sansa and their possible romance coming in the coming books, tho, as I've stated more than once, I wouldn't be surprised if Martin keeps it mostly inward and leaves the finale open (like in the show) for a further development beyond the Dream of Spring.

Also, as I have discussed previously (x) Sansa is foreshadowed to help her cousin Jon (of whom she hears the grief of death — and probably shall hear his awakening as well but I am digressing) leading him by the hand and talking him through peril and winter, thanks to stories of knightly valour.

Will Sansa be stolen from Baelish (and whoever he means to marry her to, to forward his plans) and his plans, thanks to Jon? She already is, and all the while Jon isn't even near her, yet.

As I've said in a previous ask (x) Jon is already saving Sansa from LF and his plans for her. LF is trying to isolate her, become her sole relator of news and her only informant, if he is the one giving her what information he wants, he controls what she knows and thus what she does. But he has underestimated Sansa and the loyalty of the Royces to the Starks the their cause (why they were furious they couldn't join Robb and his cause and loved Ned), in fact Sansa learns from Randa that not only Jon is alive, but that he has also made Lord Commander of the NW, and this happens shortly after she thinks she would flee both LF and Petyr (the mask and the man) if she only had somewhere to run to, someone to run to as she thinks that Lysa, who was supposed to keep her safe tried to kill her instead, so no place is safe...and boom here strides Jon Snow, newly named lord commander of the NW, and also “Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa” — to quote show Sansa: someone better offering (not that she knows of, yet) a better chance for Sansa survival and happiness and safety; someone she cares for “it would be so sweet to see him once again”, someone who literally died for a Stark girl (Arya — Jeyne) and will be ready to fight for the Starks again.

The hidden spouse

I've lost count of how many fics I've read with this trope I adore, and Jon marrying Alayne to gather the help of the Vale for Stannis or for himself, and while I adore them, I think in canon the point shall be the reversal.

Jon is an hidden Targaryen, an hidden ‘prince’ (depending on wether he's true born or not, which remains to be seen) and no one but his parental figure is aware of it, for safety reasons Sansa (and Jon himself) is unaware of his true identity. It wouldn't surprise me if Jon learned the truth about his parentage and did not reveal it to Sansa immediately, mostly a) so that it could be used politically to free the North of whatever vow Jon might take b) for safety reasons, if Sansa didn't know she cannot be held accountable for the truth of Jon's parentage (it wouldn't surprise me if Jon considered that to protect her brothers Sansa could out him and his parentage — in a parallel way as to Ned inability to trust Cat with the safety of Jon when her children were put in danger — though I am inching more to a Jon wanting to keep Sansa's slate clean, though he is a bit brooding so he might brood about the possibility of Sansa not loving him anymore if he isn't her brother and her true brothers come along, alive and well — it'd be the kind of angst Martin would write).

If we see his feelings develop for Sansa, inwardly that will be especially in the beginning, and he kept that secret from her, and is even unaware of it himself still, we'd see a besotted knight with his lady sister (who fits his every wish) love, but whose identity is absconded from either only Sansa or both of them.

If his name ends up to be Aemon which can be linked both to an old Gaelic version of Edmund (meaning wealthy/fierce protection) and an ancient egyptian version of Amon (meaning hidden one) ... and he fits both the meanings:

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.” — Sansa III, AGOT

With all of textual evidences linking Jon with Aemon Dragonknight (and Sansa with Naerys), bigger clue we could not find.

The betrayal of trust

In the myth Psyche (feeling lonely albeit loved) convinced by the sisters (who are envious of her love for her husband) violates her husband' prohibition and out of curiosity she breaks his trust and learns the truth of his identity.

As opposed, to defend him and their family, show Sansa ‘betrayed’, tho I already disproved it as a betrayal of trust (x) I don't recuse to Jon it might feel that way initially, the secretive nature of Jon's parentage.

In the book it might be reserved, Jon using the knowledge of his parentage without telling Sansa before which would made her feel betrayed about it (as she felt betrayed by him basically giving away her birthright — a birthright bookJon defended — Bran's birthright to a foreign conqueror).

If only the show (or the book) ended in a marriage (like the myth) we'd have the perfect parallel.

The quests — healing and love transcending any kind of adversity

So, Psyche has violated Cupid's prohibition and the god has flown to his mother and confess his crimes against her (because he feels betrayed).

Psyche, distraught over her husband's departure, searches for him everywhere and ends up in Venus' service, ready to do anything to get her husband back:

If you look outside the walls of your city, you'll find thousands of Northmen who will explain to you why harming Jon Snow is not in your interest. — Sansa Stark, s8e6 GoT

Venus puts her through a series of quests to pay for her crime and earn forgiveness, and she's helped to fulfil them all by her husband's servants and friends.

And by considering each quest I swear we have to laugh because they are literally built for Sansa— or can be applied to Sansa as well.

Sort through mixed seeds of grain, successful thanks to the help of ants —› Sansa is the de facto lady of the Eyrie now in the books and she ensuring the the Eyrie and its court survive winter, that means that they must prepare their store, and it's not a chance that in the show she's basically the only one whose shown to worry about the state of the stores for winter and the comfort of the soldiers who will fight for them. Why do I speak of the soldiers as well?, why because of this:

Soldiers crawled over the city walls like ants with torches, and crowded the hoardings that had sprouted from the ramparts. — Sansa IV, ACOK

Around the walls the hosts of Lords Declarant were stirring, emerging from their tents like ants from an anthill. If only they were truly ants, she thought, we could step on them and crush them. — Alayne I, AFFC

The gaunt outlines of huge catapults and monstrous wooden cranes stood sentry up there, like the skeletons of great birds, and among them walked men in black as small as ants (...). — Jon III, AGOT

Some were tearing great holes in the half-frozen ground, while others trained for war. He watched as a swarming mass of riders charged a shield wall, astride horses no larger than ants (...) — Jon VII, ACOK

Jon watched the riders go from atop the Wall—three parties, each of three men, each carrying a pair of ravens. From on high their garrons looked no larger than ants, and Jon could not tell one ranger from another. He knew them, though. Every name was graven on his heart. — Jon VI, ADWD

—› Might I also point out a contrast?

The next morning she woke stiff and sore and aching, with ants crawling on her arms and legs and face. When she realized what they were, she kicked aside the stalks of dry brown grass that had served as her bed and blanket and struggled to her feet. She had bites all over her, little red bumps, itchy and inflamed. Where did all the ants come from? Dany brushed them from her arms and legs and belly. She ran a hand across her stubbly scalp where her hair had burned away, and felt more ants on her head, and one crawling down the back of her neck. She knocked them off and crushed them under her bare feet. There were so many …It turned out that their anthill was on the other side of her wall. She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he'd built it himself. — Daenerys X, ADWD

Interesting, isn't it? I wonder what it might mean —

Anyway, back to this:

Sansa: the men we have left are exhausted, many of them are wounded. They'll fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate. Daenerys: how long do you suggest? Sansa: I can't say for certain, not without talking to the officers.

—› may I point out that this (☝🏽) is something Daenerys as queen should've done?, and if she hadn't she should've had her men, the people in her retinue do it in her stead, to make sure of the condition of her armies beyond the number and decide how to move forward? Had she listened to Sansa Rhaegal would've had more time to recuperate and maybe he would've been able to avoid being killed, because his reflexes would've been better, more camaraderie would've been born between the diverse troops which compose her army, and she would've had more time to move politically against Cersei, which could've unseat her without the need to military attack KL, or they could've had time to find an alternative solution. As we say in Italy ‘you've done thirty, do thirty-and-one’, you've waited several years to take the throne, wait a bit more. If you want to be more than a conqueror and an invader you have to give the people time to see you as such.

Daenerys: I came north to fight alongside you, [you claim to be the queen of the North as well, fight for it should be only your duty, especially after its king bent the knee] at great cost to my armies and myself, now that the time has come to reciprocate, you want to postpone. [no, she wants to win with less losses as possible, something that should be foremost in your mind — but I've already digressed on how her armies are only a mean to an end for Daenerys and I won't digress further here] Sansa: it's not just our people, is yours. You want to throw them into a war they're not ready to fight. Daenerys: the longer I leave my enemies alone, the stronger they became [so do you!!!!!] — s8e4, GoT

I won't digress on how Jon backing Daenerys theatrically against the safety of his own people is out of character for him and hints toward pol!Jon, only the show has not shown his inner thoughts; I won't digress on how Jon backing Daenerys theatrically against the safety of his own people is out of character for him (just look at him thinking of the rangers and knowing their names by heart even when he knows he might be sending them to their deaths, c'mooooooon!). I won't do it. Not here, anyway, but it is pretty blatant, in my opinion.

Those aren't the only evidences given to us by the show either, Sansa worries for the state of the stores during winter, she worries for how to feed everyone, she worries that the soldiers have the warmest armours they can have (but this last bit connects better with the second task set on Psyche).

So between the hint given by the text and what the show showed us, is very possible that Daenerys or Cersei (whoever has the upper hand in that moment over the Starks) might demand allegiance and military solidarity of them, even when the northmen are exhausted and not ready. But most that anything, the fact that Sansa thinks of the lord Declarants and their troops as well as defending soldiers as ants crawling around and the connection with ants helping Psyche sorting the seeds, make me think that Sansa might have to use the knights of the Vale not only to take back the North, but also to try and keep it whole and safe as Daenerys and Cersei wage war against one another (or Aegon as well).

gather an hank of wool from a golden men-eating sheep, managed thanks to an helpful reed who tells her a secret the allows her to fulfil the task —› can you hear me laughing all the way where you are?, because I am, this is that obvious. I mean, an helpful reed tells her the secret to hank the wool from the men-eating sheep is to do so during the night, when the sheep is more docile and less prone to attack. Howland Reed is possibly the only man in existence aware of the true identity of Jon Snow, and we all know he has kept that knowledge silent for decades, and that he and his family are loyal to the marrow to the Starks. Wouldn't Howland Reed (if Jon failed to tell her) tell her the truth about Jon's parentage and hidden identity, to make sure the North, and House Stark survive unscathed?; also wool, again an hint toward taking care of her people, Sansa is all about her duties and she has shadowed Cat Stark in her lady endeavours, she knows what are her duties.

But listening to people you'd rather not listen to is one of your responsibilities as Lord of Winterfell — Maester Luwin

Sansa: I listen to their complaints which is my responsibility as the lady of Winterfell.

—› The last seasons of the show might have butchered entire plots and characters, but this (☝🏽) this is Sansa, without any single doubt.

And it has textual evidences as well in the books:

Sansa was made of sterner stuff. A great lady knew how to behave at tournaments. Even Septa Mordane noted her composure and nodded in approval. — Sansa II, AGOT

"No, it gives me joy to kill people." His mouth twitched. "Wrinkle up your face all you like, but spare me this false piety. You were a high lord's get. Don't tell me Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell never killed a man." "That was his duty. He never liked it." — Sansa IV, ACOK

“Now, don't you have some duties to perform?" She did indeed. She saw to the mulling of the wine first, found a suitable wheel of sharp white cheese, and commanded the cook to bake bread enough for twenty, in case the Lords Declarant brought more men than expected. Once they eat our bread and salt they are our guests and cannot harm us. The Freys had broken all the laws of hospitality when they'd murdered her lady mother and her brother at the Twins, but she could not believe that a lord as noble as Yohn Royce would ever stoop to do the same. — Alayne I, AFFC

"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had." "Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders. — Alayne I, AFFC

Still, it would not serve. On the valley floor autumn still lingered, warm and golden, but winter had closed around the mountain peaks. They had weathered three snowstorms, and an ice storm that transformed the castle into crystal for a fortnight. The Eyrie might be impregnable, but it would soon be inaccessible as well, and the way down grew more hazardous every day. — Alayne II, AFFC

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night, after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave. And no sooner did she tell Petyr her idea than he went out and made it happen. — Alayne I, WOW

She knows by heart both the duties of a lord and a lady, she knows the duties of a warden and his lady wife, of a king and his consort (as she was educated to be the future queen); she knows the duties the head of an House must perform as well (as the history of Westeros has told us that at times women have had to carry on their family lines and act as Heads and take husbands to give them their name). She knows them by heart. And she's born to fulfil them, it's what she has always done and tried to do.

fill a crystal vessel with the water of a spring that feeds the Styx and Cocytus with the help of an eagle —› now, Sansa is, in the last book, acting de facto great lady of the Eyrie and is the parental figure of Robert Arryn (whose banner displays a falcon — another bird of prey same as the eagle) and we know she is diplomatically creating a situation in which she is perceived as a defender of her cousin (creating the Winged Knights) as well as a better option than plotting and not trustworthy LF (especially since it's very possible that the Royces already know of her true identity); also, one of the Houses of the Riverlands, House Mallister, has displayed on their banner an eagle, and they were loyal to Robb's cause, right now its Head and his heir are prisoners of the Freys in Seagard, in the northern Riverlands, and which could provide (if they ever manage to break free — Blackfish what are you doing?) for Sansa Stark, Cat Tully's daughter and the sister of king Robb Stark safe passage home to the North.

—› also, Petrek Mallister, the heir to Seagard, is a good friend to Edmure Tully (Cat's beloved brother) and has, between his many interests, also that of hawking (a skill we've seen Sansa also possesses, as she's gone hawking with Margaery in KL) again a skill of conjecture between man-and-bird-of-prey. Will Sansa get their help and their loyalty out of love for Robb and Catelyn/Edmure? It's possible.

Retrieving a beauty treatment from the queen of the underworld, Proserpine, managed thanks to the help of a speaking tower —› at last, seen that Psyche had fulfilled all tasks Venus had set on her, the goddess gives her one last task, that the girl herself is convinced to fail to the point she almost throws herself off a tower.

The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. — Arya XIII, ASOS

But the tower stops her from killing herself and tells her not only how to find the entryway to the Underworld, but also how to get around Charon and Cerberus, but especially how to behave toward the underworld Queen, Proserpine.

My point is, some of the Freys (whose banner are the twin towers) have been sent away from the Twins, because they were considered too loyal to Robb and his cause. Will one of them flock to Sansa Stark's side and help her? Is not absurd to believe, since their own kin have shunned them because they were too loyal to Robb. Will the ‘speaking tower’ help her get through the Twins (Charon and Cerberus) guarding the rivers (as they did in the myth) and back North?

Proserpine and her trick

Proserpine, the goddess of the underworld, is the roman version of the greek Persephone/Kore, but that, in this myth takes a bit of the darkness of her husband (as I've said already in my meta about Sansa and the myths she might embody Persephone had a very dark side, to the point we used to say that it was better to end up before Hades during spring and summer — when Persephone was not there to fulfil her duties as queen — then in fall and winter, when she was and would give the punishment as she saw fit — the Erinni, who are the personification of vengeance are her daughters and answer to her; also in some myths Persephone/Proserpine is considered Zeus' daughter with Styx, the personification of the river of hate and this is the personification Apuleius goes with).

Appearing gentle and humouring the human wife of Cupid, Proserpine lets her retrieve the ointment, but warns her not to open it. Psyche, filled with curiosity opens it, intent on using it if necessary, and ends up falling into a death-like sleep.

The more dark version of Proserpine I have always associated with Melisandre, why?, because Proserpine often was invoked for necromancy and Melisandre, who is a sorceress who uses blood-magic; and Proserpine was known for her role in delivering punishments to those who came in the Underworld.

We know, by the show, that Mel will have a hand in returning Jon Snow from death, and most possibly will try and manipulate him and possibly Sansa to bring forth her visions like she did with Stannis. It wouldn't surprise me if Melisandre would try to deceive Sansa.

The death-like sleep, a reversal, an healed love

In the myth of Cupid and Psyche, after she has fallen into the death-like sleep Cupid manages to wake her with a kiss and by rousing her. I have said more than once that it wouldn't surprise me if in the books, once Jon returns from death he will, similarly as lady Stoneheart and Beric Dondarrion, as well as, imo, Daenerys Targaryen be single-minded focused on one purpose, the one with which he has died in mind. Defending the Stark girl(s). Which will make him play dirty (and we all know how much bookJon is capable of playing dirty when necessary, he's a menace) to make sure they survive and are happy.

In the show we're shown how Jon has lost his identity since waking up from death, he kills his assassins and then proceeds to abandon everything to ‘get warm’ which is extremely out of character of the man who chose his duty to the North as the blood of Winterfell over the woman he had ‘fallen in love’ (it's called Stockholm syndrome, btw) and it's only when Sansa finds him that Jon has a new purpose.

Sansa: where will you go? Jon: where will we go, if I don't watch over you father's ghost will come back and murder me. — s6e4, GoT

Jon has already found his purpose. Keep Sansa safe.It's only when Sansa points out that Winterfell is theirs, and Bran and Rickon's and Arya's and that they will never be safe if they don't take it back, that she'll do it alone if he won't help that he decides to move for Winterfell. This hints, imo, the possibility that in the book resurrected Jon will move for Winterfell in an attempt to save fake Arya, only to come up short when it's actually Jeyne, then when he meets with Sansa he will shift all of that defence and protectiveness he woke up with, to Sansa. Cue in possible romantic feelings and we probably will see Jon starting to slowly come back to himself as if Sansa is rousing him (singing him — courteous love both of them wish for, as I've said numerous times) back to his hold self, something he will have to hold onto when everything he thought he knew about himself come crashing down with the truth of his parentage.

A reversal of Cupid rousing Psyche and then taking her back to Olympus where she drinks the ambrosia, the nectar that gives her immortality and makes of her a goddess (a pregnant one at that). Kind of like, possibly, Sansa might end up giving Jon the Stark name (his own ambrosia, granting him immortality as a Stark, one way or another — either by fame, and decree, as hinted by the crypt teaser where Jon's statue is put along the one of Sansa the qitn and Arya the hero of Winterfell, on the consort's side of Sansa — or by marrying him and making of him a Stark through marriage as both of their arc also hinge on the fact of having children to inherit Winterfell who look like their siblings).

The trust between Cupid and Psyche is healed, because of love, because of the length Psyche went for that love, and because of Cupid's inability to stay away from Psyche.

And the show did give us a mutated (less obvious because of the lack of inner thoughts) version of this ending:

[yes, I totally forgot to have the gif dissolve in black when they enter and they finish in the first gif, but I am too lazy now to change it, my bad]

So, yes, I would say that the myth of Cupid and Psyche does seem to hold some parallel with Jonsa. What do you all think?, as always thank you for bearing with me until the end of this meta, hope you enjoyed!

You can find my other mythology essays here:

Cersei vs Daenerys — Venus decoded

Sansa and the mythological figures she embodies (Persephone/Kore, Isis, Medusa, Gunnlöd, Psyche) — the Myth of Sansa Stark

Jonsa mythology (2) — Jonsa foreshadowing, part IX: Osiris and Isis