#Eros and psyche retelling

[s3ibro]

Hallowed

capitano x f! reader

800 words

warnings/tags: not beta read, but no other warnings <3

a/n: this was the first chapter of a fic I was gonna post to ao3 but like… i lost inspiration. im sorry y’all, i think imma stick to one shots. enjoy this tho :)

The Goddess of Love is not known for her forgiveness.

Nobody thinks twice when whispers reach Zapolyarny Palace of a woman in the countryside, some nobleman’s daughter, blessed by the heavens with the power of a vision and beauty beyond compare. They do not realize that some have begun to call her goddess. They do not realize that even amidst the Fatui footsoldiers, blasphemy abounds, and secret prayers are offered behind their masks not to their Tsaritsa, but instead to the Lady Krasota, pleading for her mercy in battles to come, or her blessing in endeavors of courtship.

Sandrone is the first to see. She sees all, hears all, and realizes what it means when victory toasts are made, “To our Lady, to beauty!”

Scouts report nothing when they return from the west; all they say as they kneel before the throne is how lovely it is, how gentle the snows and how quaint the towns.

They are beheaded, right there in the throne room. Tartaglia makes a fine executioner; one need not wipe hydro blades for bloodstains.

The Tsaritsa sends Capitano, the fearsome. She sends him with a small army, and with a mission to burn away the impurity of heresy. Always, he’s been a loyal dog. Her gift to him, a delusion of Geo, sways heavily on its chain as he marches through the early-spring snow.

The whispers and the screams have led him here, this provincial capital called Rybivo.

It is a silent advance to the lord’s mansion, broken only by the snap of ice sheets beneath soldiers’ boots. Capitano need not order his troops with words. When he walks, they march perfectly in his time, left, right, left; when he stops, they stop, snapping to a perfect ready.

There is a solid sound to his knock on your door, metal gauntlet against dark walnut wood; an ax against a chopping block.

Svetla Petrovna moves to open it, but just before she can reach the doorhandle, you stop her with a hand on her shoulder. In her eyes you see it, in your chest, you feel it: Fear. Something about this isn’t right.

“(y/n), who is at the door?” One of your older sisters calls from the foyer. You do not answer, because she already knows.

“I’ll answer it, Svetla,” You tell the servant girl. Her hand does not move from the doorhandle. “Svetla?”

“I won’t let them take you,” She says in a trembling tone, “You-- you are our Lady. Our goddess. They are nothing.”

“No!” You hiss, grabbing her by the shoulders and yanking her from the door. “No, I… I have a request.”

Her eyes, fawnlike with youth, are filled with tears and terrifying devotion.

“Anything for you.”

“Run out the kitchen door, then climb the courtyard wall to avoid the soldiers. Run home as fast as you can. You are not to return to the estate for a fortnight. When you come back, go up to my bedchamber and look in my wardrobe. Inside, you’ll find a stack of papers. I want you to burn them. Can you do that for me?”

Another knock. Your mind goes blank.

“Open the door.”

The man’s voice is slightly muffled, but even through the door you can hear the low, modulated quality it carries… and the threat.

Svetla sprints down the hall towards the kitchens. As soon as she’s past the threshold and round the corner, you open the doors.

A sudden urge to run; a scream forming at the back of your throat.

“I am Capitano, fourth of the Fatui Harbingers.”

Why?

“Yes, I-- It is an honor. What brings you to this tiny village, Lord Harbinger?”

You want to squirm as he cups your jaw in his massive hand, pulling you ever so slightly closer. Through the shadow of his helm, you cannot see his eyes, but you feel them, bouring into you like needles unto flimsy fabric. You hear your pulse in your ears, and each breath gently fogs in the early spring air. At last, he pulls away; the burning sensation of freezing metal lingers.

“I’m searching for a woman. One said to be more beautiful than the gods.”

Again, you feel his eyes rather than see them as they trail down your form.

“Because,” he says slowly, “Our lady the Tsaritsa does not stand for falsities. She is Schneznaya’s sole goddess. And no mortal, no matter how alluring, may ever surpass her.”

Capitano reaches for a strand of hair that has fallen from its place behind your ear, and returns it with surprising gentleness. His voice lowers to a gruff whisper,

“I do believe I’ve found her.”

[popjunkie42]

Painted Blind - Chapter One

Amazing commission done by the brilliant, beautiful and talented @witchlingsandwyverns!!! (thank you I love you!!!)

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

What Feyre Archeron wants is simple: enough food, gold and safety to take care of her family. But when a terrifying fae beast crosses the wall and enters the human lands, she finds that simple, safe life slipping out of reach.

Part one of an ACOTAR re-telling inspired by the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros.

Read on AO3

Thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta reads and encouragement. I have been working on this for a long time...over a year...and the support has been amazing!

It's here! I haven't built it up too much or anything and am now nervous! Don't look at me!

I hope you enjoy...this will be a journey <3 Snippet of chapter one under the cut!

Unhappy the land that is in need of heroes.

-Bertolt Brecht, Galileo

Woodsmoke and stale ale hung heavy in the air as I gently shut the back door to the tavern.

The noise of the place hit me like a jolt. I was used to the twilight quiet of the forest, and the cold and empty winter streets outside. The deep boom of men’s laughter and shouts, the clatter of the kitchen, the drowned out sounds of a fiddle in the corner. Wood groaned under my feet, the floor sticky and worn as I edged around the walls in the shadows, angling towards the roaring fireplace.

This was not a place for young women like me. Certainly not my first choice of accommodations for the night. The brazen, lingering stares running up and down my body reminded me of that every step of the way. But the heat of the fire along with the surrounding warm bodies was worth it when I began to feel the tips of my fingers again.

Ten minutes ago I had been elbows-deep in blood and entrails, the squelching sound drowned out by the laughter and warm light of the tavern behind me as I worked. One dunk of my bloody hands into a frozen bucket of water to wash off made me rethink any fearful self preservation I might have had left.

Survival was like that. Blurring the edges of what should be a simple, safe decision.

But I wasn’t making cautious decisions these days. Outside, chill winds whipped up the fresh frozen snow and threw it against anything in its path. My cheeks smarted and burned with it even now. The cold had taken the easy prey and then the difficult prey, and now I was forced deeper and deeper into the woods every night to find something, anything for my family.

My fingers and toes started to ache as the frozen digits warmed back to life, tingling with pain. I knew the barkeep’s goodwill would only last so long once he saw me and knew I wouldn’t be purchasing anything. Even if the growling of my stomach battled the sounds in this loud room, as the smells of fresh bread and ale and mutton wafted through the room amidst the more unpleasant scents.

But it wouldn’t do to leave the deer unattended for long, not when there were desperate men and other predators just as hungry as me and attracted to the scent of blood. I had more of the deer to skin, and it would be hours until the dawn sun touches this place.

Cracked skin, split nails, a cramp in my stomach. Usually that was all I had to show for my nights buried in snow up to my knees or huddled in bare tree branches. But tonight, at dusk, luck was with me and I had taken a deer as it crept towards the half frozen river.

It had walked directly under my tree and straight ahead of me, presented like a ready gift from some long forgotten god. I was so weak with cold and hunger my hands shook as I readied my bow. But my arrow hit true.

Still, the deer had been larger than I could usually handle. I spent too much time with my feet buried in new snow, making a rough bower, then gutting it and finally taking the head before it was light enough for me to carry back in slippery sprints.

My body was screaming with exhaustion by the time I spotted the low night lights of the village. But there was nowhere in our family’s small cabin to keep a bleeding body. Certainly not if my sisters had anything to say about it.

More eyes shot to me as a glass smashed and I jolted like a spooked rabbit. I rubbed life back into my hands, trying to calm my nerves. Now that I wasn’t shivering and fighting the cold, exhaustion threatened to set deep in my bones. It was almost two o’clock in the morning. Nesta and Elain would be fast asleep, cuddled together for warmth in our shared bed.

The anger in me burned, like the bitter nettle tea Elain brewed to keep our stomachs warm in between meals.

Two men had been watching me, talking low and close to one another for too long. I wove between bodies and chairs to find another spot further away from their gaze.

My life was always like this, for as long as we had been in the cabin. Forced out of our richly appointed manor by my father’s debtors, the old place now just a dreamy blur in the fading memories of my childhood.

The days were never dull, that was for certain. I ricocheted between life and death, forest and hearth, starvation and sustenance. I walked the woodland paths that fed and sheltered me, forests that held monsters or the stark winter seasons of starvation. Poisons and fanged beasts and untrustworthy men. Fruit and herbs, glistening springs, growth and life and death. Three pathways: death, bare survival, or thriving life, all converging to a crossroads, and sometimes I ran so quickly between them I got whiplash.

Sometimes, in the twilight hours between sleep and waking, I remembered when it wasn’t always so. I remembered a childhood filled with dresses and lavish meals and even stolen cookies with petal pink icing that smeared all over my face. I couldn’t recall, now, the last time I tasted sugar. Or had days on end with a full belly, without a care in my heart. That life was over now, and this new one demanded sacrifices. Like drawing the attention of unsavory drunk men in order to stay warm enough to bring breakfast to my family.

My eyes cast over the crowd. I wasn’t entirely alone. Isaac Hale was here, with his father and brothers, doing an excellent job of ignoring me completely. Old Hobb, at least, had given me a tip of his floppy felt cap from his station at the bar, several tankards in tonight. He had already reached the next stage of his drunkenness and would doubtless start a fight or an oddly unslurred lecture soon.

I didn’t mind - I had been subject to many of those lectures, and sometimes found them helpful. The old hunter was one of the few men in the village who had ever shown me kindness, catching me some years back when he caught me slicing through the intestines of my rabbits as I tried to skin them.

The cold, snow-burned skin on my cheeks was now hot and burning on my face as my blood ran warmer, waking from its sluggish sleep.

If I was lucky tonight, Isaac would continue to ignore me and the rest of the bar would be too drunk to notice or remember me. And if they did focus on me too long, I had been practicing since I was fifteen - the stance I had, one that was quiet but not small. Forcing the tiredness from my face the best I could, setting my jaw and keeping my hunting knife in easy reach.

I wouldn’t be prey tonight. I was the hunter. And if anyone chose to test me, my hunger and desperation would only make me more fierce.

At least, that’s what I told myself, to keep from breaking apart.

Just as I was thinking about moving back into the cold to finish my butchering, the front door of the tavern swung open with a blast of cold wind.

And silence fell.

Read the rest on AO3

[wonderb0n]

sigh

the real culprit behind the current misinformation surrounding greek mythology is the mass consumption of altered or adapted content.

our main example being the obsessive fascination with giving to the myth of Hades and Persephone characteristics already existing in the great unfortunately forgotten myth of Eros and Psyche. in this essay I will-

[regent-overthinker]

I don’t care I’m going to say it

A lot of what you guys pretend is Hades and Persephone, is everything Eros and Psyche already are

[geekynichelle]

Current author drama aside, to be honest, I'm giving Greek Myth retelling's a break. However, if someone wants to recommend something not written by a racist or fake feminist, and that includes any of the following, I'd be open to it:

-Good Ares and Aphrodite rep.

-Dionysus and/or Ariadne content

-Odyssey related shenanigans

[smolandweirdwriter]

the hades to eros to ares pipeline is REAL

[heartofstanding]

I'm so bored of feminist retellings that are, "it's basically the same but now she kicks butt cuz she's a warrior!"

yes, women kicking butt is hot. but also "kicking butt" doesn't actually make a thing feminist.

[aimportantdragoncollector]

Any combo of trio holders + "Eros + Psyche" for the ask game?

Ah a beloved myth I haven't done before! Let's make this one duoholders. Also, Yoichi is going to be Eros because All for One makes a great vain, controlling parental figure. Even though Second is not going to be happy about the Psyche role.

1. All for One is the god of love, which means he thinks all love should be directed at him and only him. Yoichi is All for One's long-suffering little brother and cupid, trying his best to fulfill the duties of the job and make people happy because his big brother does nothing except stare at the mirror all day. Out of jealousy, All for One lied to Yoichi that looking at his face will turn people into stone and forced his little brother to cover up his beautiful face with a heavy iron mask.

2. Second's older brother is a powerful king who one day caught a glimpse of Yoichi flying above and, solely on based on his hair, declared him to be the most beautiful person in the world. (Silly All for One, forgot to cover the perfect hair TM.) All for One, summoned by any threat to his vanity, appeared in a shower of angry sparks. Second's brother quickly made up a lie that he'd been talking about his own little brother. Now, Second is notoriously considered the ugliest prince in this AU. He has a giant scar across his face, he scowls constantly, he's short, and he has a bird's nest of spiky hair. Overall he does not fit the beauty standard of his society. Second's brother hoped that All for One would laugh at someone so ugly being compared to him and then feel no need to take revenge.

3. Alas, All for One has zero chill. So he orders Yoichi to kill Second. Yoichi is used to finding ways around his brother's worst orders. Instead, Yoichi asks Second to come with him and hide in a house in the clouds for a few months. Usually that's about how long it takes All for One to forget all about his orders. Second is not the first person to hide out in Yoichi's house. However, he's the first one who Yoichi falls in love with.

4. Yoichi and Second blissfully enjoy their love nest together until Second's brother comes to visit. The idiot brother sticks his foot in his mouth once again and tells Second that his lover is All for One. Probably All for One took pity on Second and didn't kill him after seeing how ugly he is, and now is playing around with his heart. At first, Second doesn't believe it. His lover seems far to kind and gentle to be that notoriously arrogant and cruel God of Love All for One. But the thought torments Second, keeping him up late at night. Finally Second has to know, so one night when they are sleeping next to each other, he sneaks a peek at Yoichi's face.

5. Yoichi wakes up and runs away crying, convinced that he accidentally turned his lover into stone. Second realizes his mistake, too late. Grabbing the closest article of clothing, he chases after Yoichi.

6. All for One learns his little brother has a lover when his brother comes home crying and immediately decides to be a douche about it. Thus All for One sets up four obstacles between Second and the residence. Second handles all these subtle and delicate trials by just slashing everything with his sword. Also I need you to understand that Second does all the trials wearing a strawberry dress like this one because it was the first clothing he grabbed when running out the door.

7. All for One is a sore loser so he's about to kill Second. Then Yoichi hears the noise, comes running out, and saves Second. Yoichi is thrilled to see his lover alive and pissed to realize his brother lied about him in order to isolate him. From now on, he'll serve as cupid but he answers to no one except himself. Yoichi and Second elope.

8. All the gods hear stories about how Yoichi married the one mortal more beautiful than All for One. So they're shocked when they meet Second and he's just some dude with resting bitch face. However Yoichi is clearly smitten. All for One refuses to admit he's wrong, and also assumes anyone who seduced his brother must have some irresistible charm, so he keeps talking up Second as an amazing temptress. Therefore all the gods start praising Second's beauty because everyone else is. There's an Emperor's New Clothes effect going on where everyone assumes that everyone else must see something special about Second that they can't see. The impact is so strong it actually changes the beauty standard of society and for the next century, short men with spiky hair are considered the hottest things since Tartarus.

That was a fun one! I got kind of carried away. (Reminder that all of these are free to use in my Three Weeks of Trioholders event.)

[boyfriendyke]

there r a lot of things about the myth of psyche and eros that makes me a little insane but one of them has always been the tasks from aphrodite and the unfairness of it. they're not intended to be possible. they're so obviously not meant to be possible, and psyche isn't fucking hercules, you know, she's not a demigod or whatever, she's mortal and these aren't mortal tasks!! it's why psyche has to be helped with each one, fucking by like ants and river gods and shit. and so like. idk. i know ppl see psyche and eros as like a story about love and shit which obviously it is but as a kid psyche and eros always felt like a story about being able to accept help

[alatismeni-theitsa]

How is the Eros and Psyche retelling so complex??

They literally had the most simple and gentle love story in Greek mythology. They are famous because, we see the perseverance of a man even when he is possessed by passion and the effort of a woman to overcome many obstacles in order to achieve the happiness of love.

Also it bothers me that yet again they changed a thousand years old myth to fit "modern audience" like sorry people 3.000 ago didn't have time to put labels and care for every social thing, they tried to survive 😅

I will pair this with another ask I received which compliments this one. You both said it very well!

[thornboundvn]

Damon!!! This is one of my favorite characters out of the game lol. Intellectual anger issues ❤️ shading isn’t fantastic but I’d say I’m proud of this!

[authormikamathews]

What should I write next?

[threads-and-pages]

I’m going to propose another theory

Beauty and the Beast and Cupid and Psyche are very similar stories. When reading a retelling of Beauty and the Beast it’s almost difficult to see where the Belle ends and the Psyche begins.

I find that the difference is in the central theme of change:

while both require one of the characters in the couple to change and grow the Beauty is perfect as is, gentle nice and all around a perfect gal, meaning that the Beast is the one who has to change and become elevated through her love.

On the other hand, Cupid is a god and while he is a huge piece of shit the narrative of the story regards him as the one holding the knowledge required for Psyche to grow up and change from a girl to a woman. He is the love that elevates the spirit incarnated.

[hum-suffer]

Your beauty rivaled the love goddess's,

bypassed her when you smiled

Walked with kindness on your heels

And charm on your shoulders

Your beauty was beyond body

Danced with flower crowns

Never let your tears drown you

The light of your soul burnt bright

Green was the colour of envy

Your sisters saw

When you were wrapped tenderly in the arms

Of ruthless mother nature

Lusted for you, they all

Approached you, none

Called for you, all

Helped you, none

Yellow was the colour of greed

The dawned upon your sire's ribs

Sale of your beauty,

No love for your soul

In the cave of the dead

And the cruel fates

You sat shivering straight

The one that loathed Love

For he had been unloved

Spoke to you the truth

"Despair King," he said,

Golden strands of tangled fate

And his choice of kindness

"Your daughter shall marry

A beast!

The gods tremble before his feats

Dress her not as a bride

But for her funeral

For this will the poison this union shall stir

Wil bring her melancholy like none

Take her to the brink of the tallest mountain

For there she shall find her doom."

Dressed in dresses dark as your fate

There you stood, unwilling and afraid

At the top of that mountain

That remade your life

They all left, envious eyes happy and

greedy eyes disappointed

Walking the barren Earth

As they left their spring behind

And you stood too,

Till your feet ached with snarls of Earth

Till your spine crushed your dreams

But oh, the poisonous

Zephyrus

Whispered to you

Once more jealous

Of the beast that your husband claimed to be

"Leave, little girl, this world behind" He said

The warm west winds

Biting at your pale cheeks

"None could see the human

Under the skin like marble

Your name demolished devotion,

Of the all loved Aphrodite,

Crave the love evermore

Yet you throw the attention away

Throw yourself into the arms

Of death certain

Or the beast of your night terrors

Not worthy for your life of riches

Nor for the death of mysteries

Throw yourself, into the arms of death."

A push and a shove

From the wind and woes

You twist and jump

To darkness beneath the height

Close your eyes in the face of doom

Your dress flutters like your wings

And yet you cannot fly

For chained you are and forever will be

Arms cage you once more

Blind you and hold you

On the way to your new home

In the darkest of nights

He promised you

Love, loyalty and future untameably bright

If only you'd keep yourself blind

Blind to anything but his charms

But unbound in your free curiosity

A palace of riches and

Garden of heavens alike

And yet you never find

The sight you long for

His footfalls become your music

His heartbeat becoming your lullaby

His concern your bandaid

And his life a blessing

Why must the Prophecy God

Call your husband a monster?

Knowing the nature of your sisters

Yet allowed you to welcome them

In your abode

"Beware," they whispered,

Their envy coiling around you

And your unborn child

"Beware the Invisible Monster

Who claims to be a man.

"Gods fear him, loathes him the god of truth

He must be a liar

And he has set this palace, a lure."

Words of jealousy turned

A troubled mind tranquil

To a warring field of fiends

Unanswered questions on your lips

Broke the love you made

Broke the trust he had

You waited with baited breath

In the night that he dreaded

Used to gift of humans

The fire burnt at wax

As your distrust burnt at your haven

Unblemished and scarred skin

Marked red

By the danger of holding

His frail love in your trembling hands

Burnt his wings and rendered him helpless

Gave your peace away for the answer

You knew in your heart

Being loved by Love himself,

Loving him blindly

A fate written in riddles

With scorched wings he left,

Love still lingering on his lips

Like an aftertaste of wine

As he begged

"Run, my wife, run from the Mother I dread.

Walk away and forget this life

Forget the love you held for me

Believe the gods next time

When they say

Love is a beast."

Drunk on his love and your regret

You pleaded as he left

Pleaded for any help for your frail self

In place of the void he brought

Came the darkness you had buried

Beauty came with terror

As you then told your sisters

Watched as they fell,

Wishing for the selfless love

That you held

Watched as their blood

Flowed as water

In the barren lands of a past garden

Saw the way love twisted into terror

Knew the way beauty turned into horror

A mother's wrath you heard

The rage Aphrodite known to the world

Begged all goddesses for help

None could save you from fate

Carrying a life in your body

You walked towards death

Held once more but bound

Unbreakable chains around you

Blood flowing from wounds

Inflicted by the goddess of love and fertility

Your beloved with his scorned wings

You with death at on your lips

Fought for the love that lingered still

Like wrinkles left by smiles

Begged for forgiveness once more

Gained tasks that you could accomplish never

Remembered the goddesses you had once begged

Help came in forms you shall never forget

Saw your determination and devotion

Tried to help you once more

His love knew no bounds

As he pleaded with King of Gods

Left his mortal body

To beg you, not to leave yours

Completed all the tasks

Compelled of your insecurities

Never knew, fear came as a result of beauty

A box of beauty in your hands

Opened to be cheated once again

Deep sleep curled around you

He came back,

Even begged all he had made possible

The council of gods, once afraid

Of the beast called love

Saw his humanity dying

Made you a goddess

The wife of love for eternity

Afterall, it fits only if

Love and Understanding

Walk along even in folklore

[vverago]

Psyche and Cupid Retelling ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

This is an excerpt from my in progress novel which is a arospec retelling of the Roman myth Cupid and Psyche

𓆩♡𓆪

“I mocked you while you gave me everything you knew love had to offer.”

He laughs, “The only thing you didn’t understand is that I never expected your love in return.”

He pulls out one of his golden arrows, it dazzles in the warm light of the moon. Gently, he pokes her shoulder.

She simply stares at the object.

“I’ve seen some have no reaction before.” He says, “Mostly greedy kings, but there are a few exceptions that have intrigued me for centuries. For them, love isn’t chosen by fate or myself. It’s purely on their own accord. Some desire it, some don’t. But no matter what they chose, I’ve come to admire them.”

[megatraven]

treated myself to a book abt Eros and Psyche and im so excited to read it ooghgh.......... obsessed obsessed obsessed