#thread : ariadne

[shewhoexploresthewoods]

“Some of the old goddess tales were twisted to suit the takeover of male powers, in order to win converts to their new gods. For example, Pandora (All-Gifts) was originally a Great Mother Goddess, whose box (womb, cauldron, cave, cup) was a reservoir of beauty and life-sustaining gifts. Patriarchal myth tells us that Her box contained all manner of destructive demons, which once unleashed upon the world, brought evil and suffering to all. Eve was also a Mother Goddess, whose tree was the Tree of Life. The serpent was her own sensual wisdom, and the apple was her sacred fruit. Athene, whom we are told was born fully grown out of the head of Zeus, dressed in armor and ready for war, was originally the daughter of the matriarchal goddess Metis. (Meter, method, measure, matter, mother…) Both mother and daughter were worshipped by the Amazons at Lake Triton, and were born parthenogenetically—without sperm.”

This quote was taken from the book, Ariadne’s Thread A Workbook of Goddess Magic by Shekhinah Mountainwater. The quote comes from the Myth-Making section of Cycle 1 on page 26.

Reading about the true origins of Pandora, Eve, and Athene (female mythical figures we’ve all heard about and seen in popular media) is cathartic. My heart is filled with joy!

[bigshoeswamp]

by Laerte Coutinho

[witchbrand]

man what the hell

[obiwong]

Has anyone done this yet?

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

I was just thinking about possible titles for an Elucien book and came up with "A Court of Golden Thread" because golden = sun and thread = mating bond. But it also made me think of the Greek myth, Theseus and the Minotaur, because of Ariadne's thread, and I thought of something.

Theseus = Greyson

Ariadne = Elain

Dionysus = Lucien

Ariadne is in love with Theseus, but he ends up leaving her stranded on a deserted island. Dionysus sees her crying and goes to comfort her. They fall in love, and she is either given ambrosia to make her immortal or Dionysus retrieves her soul from the Underworld after her death but either way, they end up married and she is made the Goddess of paths and labyrinths.

Consider this prompt up for grabs

[lensky-polonium]

it's going to be a maze story, i swear

«It presents a well-known song, the French ballade titled En la maison Dedalus (In the house of Dedalus). The large red circle in the centre represents the mythological figure Ariadne, who is a prisoner in the house of Daedalus. The music and the lyrics are written in a circular form, spiralling around the central figure, locking her up within the song. As the text is not presenting in a linear format, the reader has to physically turn the book around in their hands in order read the music. The reader will ultimately end up turning the book in time with the music, watching the lyrics swirl around the prisoner, and creating a rhythm with the movement. This is an example of how illustration and typography can be used to add a physical experience to the book, and create an extra layer of understanding.»

[chromaji]

hold up so, how do yall interpret ariadne threads being used in Etrian Odyssey?

Not how they look, since EMD revealed ariadne threads look just like a purple yarn ball, but how exactly they're activated.

Do you imagine the characters just hold the string for long enough and it activates? Or they have to hold it with enough intent to leave in order to activate? Does the guild have to huddle and physically wrap it around themselves to work? Do they have to make a circle out of the yarn on the ground and all step into it? Or something else entirely.

I used to imagine it as one character holding one end of the yarn, tossing the ball into the air, and it glowing+teleporting any person in range. Not sure if that's still the vibe, but I realized I don't give it much thought.

[evydraws]

Ariadne, Deconstructed

The myth of Ariadne, the minotaur, Theseus, and the labyrinth is well known.

Her tale ends in tragedy, abandoned by Theseus on the shores of the island Naxos - in some versions she dies there, in others, she catches the eye of the god Dionysus.

Classical paintings depict her desperate in her abandonment. For this piece, I wanted to show a different version, focusing on her role in the defeat of the minotaur instead, and twisting that on itself again. “Heroines” of Greek myths so often get swallowed whole by fate and whims of gods and men, but here, Ariadne is in control of her fate and decisions.

First in a triptych, acrylics and gold leaf on cradled panel. Original can be found here.

[wbcommanda]

You may think I’m a dork because I write musicals about Greek mythology and faeries but ACTUALLY I’m a dork because I made sure all of Ariadnes songs have string instruments in their orchestration on the album.

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Promptly following ‘Too Many to Save’ LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Ariadne (@ariadnewhitlock) SUMMARY: Monty spots Aria near the main house and asks for her help getting the dogs away from the fire and down to the main road. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

—

With the number of animals and people at the roadside growing, Monty turned and sprinted back up the hill, his thoughts on more animals and people that needed help. Along the way, he spotted Aria, looking terrified and confused and unsure of what to do with herself. “Mija!” he shouted to get her attention, running up to her and looking her over worriedly, hands grasping her shoulders. She seemed okay, and his attention then turned to the farmhouse that was nearby. 

An idea struck him. 

“Aria, I need your help,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the house. Just like the rest of the buildings on the property, it was starting to catch fire. There were walls of flames that snaked across the grass from one structure to the next, and even more alarmingly, there were people in the shadows and smoke that were attacking them. And Monty wanted to help all of his farm hands and guests, he did, but he couldn’t put those that stood a chance of defending themselves in front of those that had no chance. Like his dogs, trapped in a burning building. He couldn’t leave them to die, not even as he witnessed the chaos erupting around him. So he brought Aria to the steps of the main house, turning around to face her again. “I need you to wait here while I release the dogs, yes? I know they will run from you, sweetheart, I just need you to—to direct them down to the road.” He was pointing in the direction of the main road where he’d left the horses. “I think I left Wynne there—go to them, okay? Just please make sure the dogs go that way. Can you do this? I will go get them myself. You stay here.”

—

She’d gone to the party because she loved Monty and wanted to spend time with him. Wynne knew him too, which made it all the better, because Ariadne had no real plans to go to any sort of event without them. Or anywhere, given their dual lack of any form of good luck (or even general safety) when the other wasn’t around. Not that she would’ve expected something bad to happen with Monty, but it was better to be safe than sorry, and besides, she wanted Wynne in every single aspect of her life always, regardless. So it just made sense.

Except maybe she’d gone into the party with too much hope. She should’ve figured that her plus a lot of animals was just asking for disaster. Ariadne just hadn’t expected the disaster to be just what it was. “I –” she started, her face first brightening at the use of mija, before her expression turned to one of far more confusion, though she readily accepted his hand and let him lead her out of the house. Which was on fire. Which was very very much not good.

Which, duh. Obviously fire wasn’t good. It was a fear of many people, too. “I can – yeah.” Ariadne bit her lower lip to try and stop it from trembling. Because Monty knew how animals were around her but maybe she was going to actually be able to do something decent with her bad animal luck for once. If she could use it to ultimately save the animals, then it’d be worth something very special indeed. “I can try. I – yeah. If you’re sure it won’t hurt them.” 

—

“It won’t hurt them a bit. Just put your arms up, big like this,” he stuck his hands in the air over his head, “and shout. They are already scared, they will just run from you. You won’t be hurting them at all, I promise.” There was a tremor in his voice, but he gave the girl a determined nod before turning and pulling open the front door. Smoke billowed out the top of it, and Monty was thankful that neither of them had to breathe. 

Darting inside, he ran blindly toward the staircase. He could hear the dogs wailing from the room they were in, spurring him to take the stairs two at a time. He called out their names as he reached the door to the bedroom, throwing it open and peering inside. There was a flurry of movement, and the two dogs suddenly materialized in front of him and barrelled through the opening, nearly knocking him over in the process. “¡Oye! Downstairs, downstairs, downstairs!” he shouted at them, watching them wheel around in the hall and scamper toward the stairs instead. They were gone in an instant, and Monty followed as fast as he could. 

The dogs came flying out the front door, but they both skidded to a stop when confronted with Aria. Tails between their legs, they started to move carefully around her in the wrong direction, looking ready to bolt.

—

“Okay, I can do that.” She wasn’t sure how good she’d be at shouting, but if Monty thought she could do it, then Ariadne would try her absolute and utter best. “Yeah, I’ll get them to run away.” She wished so desperately that she could just pick them up and carry them away to safety, but that wasn’t possible, and would never be again, but now wasn’t the time for her to feel sorry for herself. Maybe sometime in the future some sort of magic medicine would be invented and then she could have hundreds of animals – have a farm of her very own, even! 

It was better to focus on the possible positives than the definite negatives. That was what she should be doing, anyway. Monty disappeared inside and Ariadne found herself unable to look away from the door, panic coating her tongue from her worry about what would happen to him. Except it wasn’t the sort of panic that satiated. If anything, it was akin to salt water, something that made her feel more desperate and wanting. 

Suddenly, the dogs appeared and stopped right in front of her. She looked for Monty, and when he appeared she nodded, toeing around where the dogs were, nodding at them. “Hey, uh, please go – go away from me.” She gulped. “Go away from me and you’ll be double safe.”

—

The dogs were much faster than Monty was, and by the time he was able to see them on the porch with Aria, they were already about to bolt deeper into the farm, where there was fire and danger. Panic threatened to grip him, but Aria made eye contact with him and then spoke to the dogs, moving herself to cut them off from the direction they wanted to run in. He let out a sigh of relief, watching as she coaxed them in the right direction. 

“Good! Go with them, mija! Get yourself away from this fire, go to Wynne!” he shouted after her, watching for a moment to make sure she was doing as he said before turning and heading back to his bedroom on the first floor to get the weapon he kept beneath the bed. He would still be focusing on setting the animals loose, but if he ran into any of these goddamn attackers along the way, he’d be sure to put them out of everyone’s misery. 

Bursting out the back door, Monty assessed the situation as best he could with all of the smoke. The pig barn was lost, that much was certain. The horses were evacuated (those who could be), and he was pretty sure he had seen Denver entering the sheep barn. That left the cows, which is where he sprinted to next. It was his grim understanding that the fear and the heartbreak was going to have to wait until later, and while he did not look forward to feeling such things, right now, there was no space for it in his mind. There was only action.

—

“Okay!” She shouted back. Except then she gave pause for a moment – brief, but still present. “I – you’ll come soon, right?” Another pause, “right?” Because Ariadne wasn’t about to lose Monty. Ideally not ever, but especially not right now, if she had the option to do something to help him. Because he seemed like the sort of person who might be all self-sacrificing and as much as she did admire that (to a degree) it also made her stomach twist into all sorts of knots.

Still, she shuffled off best as she could, running once the dogs started up.

Ariadne did her best to avoid thinking about all the disastrous things that could happen to Monty (because she was real good at making those lists, nowadays). She could’ve asked her cousin, if going back in time were possible. Now he was a different person, but they’d talked about things and maybe he could still think of disaster scenarios for her mind.

But she wasn’t going to do that. She was going to go and find Wynne and kiss them and hold them and make sure they were safe.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” She said, not wanting to raise her voice and risk scaring the dogs even further. “Let’s go get you somewhere you’ll be happier.” Then she’d leave wherever she dropped them off. She and Wynne could go hide somewhere else together, wait for an all clear.

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Prickly Pear Farms PARTIES: @ariadnewhitlock & @ohwynne SUMMARY: Wynne and Ariadne try some of the food at the party! CONTENT WARNING: N/A

They felt a kind of giddy they hadn’t felt in a while. Wynne walked around Prickly Pear Acres with Ariadne on their side, a smile on their face as the world around them was covered in soft glee. It should be like this always, they thought. It should last forever, this feeling of hope — because they felt hopeful. If Ariadne and them could be happy here, in spite of everything, then the world continue to spin for the better. If this was possible, for a day, then more days like this would come.

“There!,” they exclaimed, pointing ahead at a table. “I knew it was here somewhere.” The it in question was the food that was spread out, all of it looking very delicious. Their appetite had been bad these past months – worse, somehow, than it had been before – but their high spirits had made them hungry. “It all looks good. I don’t even know where to start.”

—

This felt normal. Or at least, as close to normal as was possible. Going to a party with your partner, at a party thrown by someone else you loved. It couldn’t be so bad if this was possible, right? Ariadne squeezed Wynne’s hand softly. It was possible to have peace and comfort and love and all those kinds of good things.

She moved her gaze from Wynne to where they were pointing when they commented. “Oh, yes – it does look amazing!” Not as good as a whole buffet of candy would’ve been, but delightful nonetheless. “Maybe start at what seems like the end? I dunno. I just – we should start together.” No more splitting up. “But we can get stuff and just share it all? If you want. Whatever you want.” She kissed them, soft and gentle. “Happy to follow your lead.”

— 

The idea to start at the end would have never crossed their mind and so they beamed at Ariadne, always in awe of her creative mind. Wynne nodded, “Yes, we start at the end. And we get a bit of everything! I don’t want to miss out on anything.” They were determined to enjoy it all, to feel their stomach fill and expand without it feeling like a battle.

Wynne went and got two plates, handing one to Ariadne and starting to load various colored foods onto their own. “Who do you think made all this? I — does Monty also eat this kind of food?” It was a nicer thought than imagining the kind farmer eating brains. They frowned a little, wondering if it was better to have to cause nightmares and without helping it, they thought of Jade. They shook the thoughts off. “It all looks so good.”

— 

“Uh, I think Monty can, but I don't know if this is like, top choice.” Based on talking with Caleb, and what she knew (which wasn’t much, but this was a party and she was going to be happy about things), he’d have preferred brains or stuff but that also wasn’t necessarily ideal conversation with her very much human partner. Not right now. Ariadne grinned. “Oh, absolutely. I love how you think, as always.”

She took a plate from Wynne. “It looks amazing, and I’m starving – I mean –” she sucked in her lips. “Like, for real – for this. Not for – not other stuff.” Ariadne shifted from one foot too the other, rather awkwardly, before spooning a bunch of noodles covered in something red onto her plate. “What are you going for first?”

—

“No, I guess not,” they said as they regretted bringing up the farmer’s diet. Zombies ate brains and other human meaty things, which Wynne tried not to judge them about but was still very discomforting. It wasn’t like they could change their nature, after all, and Monty seemed to be doing something good about it … but even so. They had a human brain. They didn’t want to use it to think about how it would make a good snack.

They also went for the noodles, “Then we have to feast. So you’re not starving any more,” Wynne said, before also putting some bits of meat in thick sauce on their plate. “I’m going for this first, I think.” Some curry also made its way onto their plate, and they used their spoon to have a first bite. It didn’t take long for their face to fall and tears to appear in their eyes.

—

Ariadne shrugged off the idea of what Monty ate. It wasn’t good to talk about with humans – not that humans were any less than she was, but it seemed crass and she very much did not want to be crass. Or upset Wynne.

“Yeah, exactly. We’ve gotta – it’ll be so good, I know it!” She scooped a few more items onto her plate before taking a bit in tandem with Wynne. Except that tears were starting to pour from their eyes and Ariadne quickly set her plate down. “Are you – okay? What’s the matter??”

— 

At the estate, they had never eaten very spicy food. The Welsh kitchen was great, but not known for being exceptionally flavorful and especially not spicy. And thus, Wynne had no tolerance for it at all. Though perhaps even if they had, they’d have ended up with tears in their eyes.

Ariadne was looking at them like something was terribly amiss and they tried to make their face look normal, even if it was growing red. They gestured at the food, gasping rather than saying something, offering no response for their girlfriend to go off. Eventually they just gave a thumbs up to make sure she knew they were okay.

— 

“Okay – it’s just too spicy? Or like, really spicy?” Ariadne didn’t tend to eat very spicy things, and so she wasn’t sure if it would interact with her taste buds differently on account of the whole being dead thing. She figured it did, at least for people like Monty, and so that was good. 

She took a small bite of her food, swallowing quickly. “We should see if Monty’s got any ice cream. I think vanilla does a good job of cutting hot – like spicy stuff. But you are hot, also. Like, not spicy, like – not like I eat you. Well.” She shook her head. “You know what I mean. It’s still a fun idea for food, and I’m glad you came to the party with me. I know I wouldn’t wanna do this without you.”

— 

Beads of sweat formed on their head the way they had when across of Cass and Wynne wiped at their forehead, “Spicy,” they said, “Too spicy.” Their tongue felt like it was on fire and they felt the whole of their throat burning. But it wasn’t too bad, if only because of Ariadne across from them.

Laughter spilled from stinging lips, their entire mouth – if not body – on fire and somehow still amused and endeared with their girlfriend. “That sounds good, ice cream. And you, you too sound good — you’re adorable,” they said, hiccuping from both laughter and spice. “It’s a good party. You’re hot, too.” Wynne wiped at their eyes, the back of their hand wet with sweat and tears. “Even hotter than this.”

— 

“I’ll advise Monty to put some warnings up next time he has a party where people with legit taste buds come.” She set her plate down and took hold of Wynne’s hand. “If I kiss it, does it make it better?” She pressed her lips against theirs, willing their lips to open, hoping to let the coolness of her tongue soothe theirs.

Then they were laughing and Ariadne couldn’t help but laugh too. Life was so good with them, and it was good that they were here, together, not in separate places both in danger. Together, she was certain, they could handle anything. “I’m glad I sound good. You should come over after, if you want?” She kissed them again. “You’re the hottest though. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

—

“I just am not very good at spicy food I think,” they admitted hoarsely. Ariadne’s lips on their own were sweet and cold, but it wasn’t enough to completely get rid of the hellish sensations taking over their body. Wynne looked at her when they pulled back and found they had no complaints, however. “Better.” 

If this was what could go wrong at this party, then they had no complaints. Eating food that was too spicy was far from the end of the world, far from the worst thing that could occur. Wynne found themself infinitely glad that it was something like this they were crying over, “That sounds amazing. And if I’m the hottest, then you’re the … coolest and prettiest.” They smiled, a little dopey from both the heat and Ariadne herself.

—

“You’re plenty good at other things.” She grinned. “Besides, being good at spicy food… could be like, some cool trick, but I don’t think it really matters in the grand scheme of things.” Ariadne couldn’t help but keep on grinning. “I always want to make things better for you, you know.” She looked at Wynne with a soft expression in her eyes.

They both deserved something good, and this was something good, and that was the biggest relief she’d had in a long while. “Well, fine, I’ll agree with that, but only because it’s impossible to disagree with you.” Ariadne moved closer to them again, pressing another kiss to their lips. “You make the world – my world – but the world too – so bright. You are my sun, you know that?”

—

“I am good at other food. Maybe I can start cooking more spicy to also get food – I mean good at it,” they said, hiccuping once more. Wynne was beaming at Ariadne, at the small gestures made for them. This was so small and almost meaningless in the grand scheme of things they and Ariadne had done for each other, but it still mattered. “I know.”

It was impossible to resist Ariadne when she was like this, all sweat words and soft gestures. Wynne giggled against her lips, “C’mon, we’re in public,” they said, cheeks still red and the cause one of various things around them. “Let’s find somewhere else.” They took her hand, lips tingling and an expression of infinite fondness on their face as they pulled Ariadne to somewhere more private

[justbelievinginmagic]

what skz looks like in ariadne's thread!

hello! thought id share my lil breakdowns and inspo photos for the skz boyz in ariadne's thread. i will continue to add to this as we go through the story and introduce more of the boys! some of these will contain spoilers to the fic so i recommend reading it beforehand... -> series masterlist

Hyunjin, the Goblin King. Described as a honeyed blonde with blue eyes that seem to have hurricanes and storms trapped within them. Has been compared to Renaissance marble statues & paintings with how inhumanly beautiful he is and how his eyes seem to be a kind of wrathful beautiful. Wears dark leather and lace, many layered gold necklaces, and cloaks/capes! Later, will appear in sheer white loose tunics and black slacks, and then only white attire. Able to manipulate time and reality, as well as see into the future. Considered one of most powerful of faes - a High Fae with some Gancanagh-blood.

Jisung, the Goblin-Fae. Described as having oil-slick black-blue curly hair with big jewel-toned eyes that shift from more blue or more purple. Wears old and worn clothes that have been hand sewn with alterations - a brown vest, a white flowing tunic with the big sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and brown pants. Is decorated with many necklaces on his neck and rings on his fingers, a collection of jewels that he keeps tied to his cinched-belted waist alongside a beautiful dagger and various other knick-knacks he’s collected in the Desert Sea. Cannot utilize any magic but was trained with a dagger. Considered Goblin-Fae despite having some Dragon-blood tendencies such as hoarding and treasure-hunting.

Chris, the Beast-Hunter. Described as a floofy brunette with natural curls and dark grey eyes that mimic stone sometimes. Large curling horns, like a ram's. Decorated in scars of all sorts; he has prominent scars and cuts across the bridge of his large nose, his back, and his torso. Is shirtless, but is adorned in many iron-shackles across his body – one around his thick throat, both of his wrists and his waist. Later, dons a fur-cloak of a beast that was taken from him while he was a prisoner - which he wears across his broad shoulders with pride. Is exceptionally strong, dedicated, and is able to manipulate anything made of earth with enough concentration. Troll-Fae.

Felix, the Gancanagh. Described as having long warm-blonde hair that moves in a non-existent wind with deep-brown eyes that seem to swirl into a rose-pink the longer you stare into them. His cheeks are dusted with golden freckles that sparkle in the light. Dressed in in a billowing white tunic that reveals too much of his chest and abs, his pants are leathered and slung low on him, revealing his prominent hip bones. His form is every changing and shifting as he finds suitable visages to mimic to tempt humans; it’s possible this form was just the most appealing one to Y/N since in some moments he almost looks like Hyunjin except softer. Later, his hair fades to an oil-slick blue as well. As a Gancanagh, he is addictive to mortals with only a single touch. Has seductive charms, luring pheromones, and a hypnotizing gaze. Enjoys winning more than the chase. Can steal mortal faces and shapeshift. Gancanagh-Fae.

Minho, the Sluagh. Described as having dark-brown hair that looks like the fur of a beast and piercing glowing aquamarine-blue eyes that gleam like an animal’s. Entire form is decorated in tattoos of the creatures within his soul; prominently, the face of a wolf is on his left hand. The wolf tattoo shares a glowing blue eye like Minho. These tattoos feel alive as they shift across his skin. Has many animal cuts and claw marks across his body from battles or challenges for dominance (which he has won.) Draped in bear-like furs that seem to meld into his form when he transforms into a beast. Has Wild Magic in his veins and can shift into creatures of all sorts but favors monstrous-versions of large bison-like direwolves. Fought to earn the title of Sluagh of the Direwoods and is the only one able to call upon the Wild Hunt. Embodies the Wild Hunt until his death and the Wild Magic passes onto the new Sluagh.

Seungmin, the Boggart. Described as having pitch black hair and dark as night eyes that sparkled like stars were trapped in them. A cloak of shadows curl around his shoulders and fall to the floor. This darkness follows him, clouding him as if he’d be consumed by the bubble of shadows around him; sometimes, one can see shadowed limbs clawing and grasping at him or clinging to his black silk shirt. Unlike the others, he seems to float and has no visible feet or footsteps. Can utilize shadows as a mean of transportation and as extensions of himself. Attracts death, causes death via the strings of fate, and can mark someone for death. Death-Fae.

Sir Changbin, the Knight. Described as an extremely muscular young man with dark hair that has greying waves. His eyes are hetero-chromatic with one eye being a nutmeg brown and the other a pale milky grey. Dressed in fine dark-leathered armor with the Goblin King’s regalia on his chest lapel and many warrior pins of honor. Extreme strength beyond a mortal’s capabilities and an abnormal commitment to honor; however, is forgetful and suffers from memory loss often. Changeling.

TBA ; last updated 11/19/24

[machiavxlli]

Closed Starter

Cont from here - @ofholocenemuses

"I can!" Ariadne proclaimed. There was no use in hiding herself at this point, since the other mage had already seen her. She was at his side, a few paces away. Ariadne clasped her hands together, placed her lips upon them and began to blow. The other mage was ready to counter it nut Ariadne was fire. As she blew air, fire came out the other end of her clasped hands. The water mage took steps back, but the flames followed him in similar intervals of his previous ice attack. Flame ate the surrounding ground, Ariadne let her hands fall back to her sides.

"Run!" The mage shouted towards her companion, before grabbing his arm and dragging him away. The water mages name was Rodrick, a mage that had turned his back on his own kind and served the people who wanted all mages dead. He served a tyrant. Ariadne heard whispers of him, and had many unfortunate run ins with the madman.

They came upon a bridge. As they crossed to the other side, Ariadne placed her hands upon the wood. A spark lit up, and the wood began to be engulfed in flames. "It'll make it harder for them to follow us now."

[nightmaretist]

TIMING: Mid April, so pre-Ireland LOCATION: Metropolitan Opera House, NYC PARTIES:  Ariadne @ariadnewhitlock, Leila @amonstrousdream and Inge @nightmaretist SUMMARY: Inge takes her two mare mates on an outing to the MET at night. It's sweet. CONTENT: N/A

All in all, Inge was terribly excited. It was a strange thing to feel, this kind of giddiness about a social outing — but she did and it was refreshing. Wasn’t it? To take a pair of mares under her wing (leathery and black) and spend a night with them, pushing the limits of their powers and going where they weren’t allowed to be. The three of them had convened at her studio and then agreed to meet backstage at the Lincoln Center where the American Ballet graced the stage every summer.

She’d done some scouting beforehand, considering some security risks while in the astral, looking down at the location. She’d figured out where the sewing room was, where nice accessories could be swiped and where the carpentry shop was. She’d even found a nice place for food nearby, a place that took low-sodium diets into account and did good pizza. 

She appeared in the dressing room she’d instructed the others to meet her in, seating herself in one of the seats and looking at herself in the mirror. It was dark, but her red glowing eyes didn’t struggle with the lack of light. Lips spread at herself, but her head swiveled at the sound of another person in the room with her. “So,” Inge said, “Where should we go first? The stage? Or in the belly of the backstage?”

—

She was actually legit going to break in somewhere. Except, the Metropolitan Opera offered tours and stuff, right? So this was just a super exclusive tour. That they were taking without permission. Which Ariadne was very chill with. Mostly. Admittedly, she wouldn't have been nearly as chill if she was going by herself, but Inge and Leila (and most especially Inge) knew what they were doing, which meant this would all go off very well.

She’d even worn her ABT sweatshirt (it only seemed right, after all) and had extra-prepped by downing half a bag of gummi bears. When she successfully appeared in the dressing room, Ariadne could hardly contain herself, letting out a delighted squeak at the fact that yes, this was actually happening.

“I mean, stage is cool. But anywhere. I’m just – this is so awesome!!” Ariadne grinned. “Seriously. Wow.” She pulled out her phone. “I need to take the first of a few selfies.” She turned to face Inge and Leila, who’d just appeared. “Do either of you wanna be in this one? Or any of them?” 

___

There were all sorts of things Leila hadn’t let herself dare dream about for a very long time. Places she would not go and would never see, things she would never have the chance to do. Using the astral to sneak her way into the Metropolitan Opera House was not something she thought was possible. But Inge had insisted it was. And after pushing her way further than she’d ever gone before, she reappeared in a dressing room hundreds of miles away. 

The other mare had more second-life experience than herself or Ariadne. Despite being older, there were times where she felt as if Inge was the mother hen of this group of three, guiding Leila and Ariadne in the ways of a world they did not fully understand. Parts of it felt a bit like stretching muscles she had not used in years. Most of her trips in the astral never went so far at once. But it felt strangely good. As if she was finally doing something she was meant to be doing for years. She reached out and poked the dressing room counter, just to assure herself that it was real, before looking at her friends with pure, unbridled glee on her face. 

“We’re actually here…” The statement was a little ridiculous. The proof was there in the walls of the building that surrounded them and the things it housed. Ariadne’s excitement was, as always, adorable. Leila was sure that by the end of the night, her phone would be filled of pictures she’d take of the girl posing about the theatre. “I would be honored to be in a picture. Commemorate the moment and all of that…”

___

There was something very infectious about both their excitement. If she’d allow herself, her mind would travel to days long gone of going out with Vera and taking her out. She’d get so giddy and thrilled about the world expanding. Inge had a feeling both Ariadne and Leila could use some expansion — especially the youngest among them, who probably had lived in that weird, wicked town all her life.

She didn’t search deep within her soul, though. She was here because she enjoyed to have fun and to share it with those she deemed worthy. “I’d love to be in it,” she said, pulling Leila closer so Ariadne could get all three of them in a picture. Inge gave a wide, toothy smile before moving aside, figuring that the selfie had succeeded. 

She glanced between the two mares. “Let’s do the stage first, and then I’ll give you two a little tour,” Inge said, gesturing at them to follow as she opened the door of the dressing room. The backstage was a nice little maze, but she had prepared. It was good to do something like this, to flex her spontaneous muscles and use her mare-skills for her and others benefit, and not just for feeding and feeling safe in the astral. She halted when they’d reached one of the sides of the stage and looked at Ariadne over her shoulder. “Go on, then.”

___

The fact that the both of them wanted to be in a selfie with her was nearly enough to cause Ariadne to faint from sheer disbelief that something like this. She didn’t, though, and figured that was something she could add to her list of ‘things she was proud of’ because she had two people who were like her and who were willingly spending time with her and making everything seem just that much more easy. The picture was perfect, too, though she’d have been hard-pressed to think of it as anything but.

“Yeah, yeah stage sounds perfect!” Ariadne couldn’t keep herself from chirping, from taking such extreme delight in everything that was going on. When she was little, on the family computer, she’d had her parents search up photos of the Met’s stage and she’d stared at it (and ones of the Royal Ballet, too) for hours, knees pulled against her chest, in awe, hoping that one day maybe she’d be able to be on one of those stages. She wasn’t sure how logistically it would be able to happen now, since she’d never age, but right now wasn’t the time to focus on the negative, on the things that made her stomach toss and turn, but instead she could focus on the fact that she was here now, and that was incredible.

At Inge’s suggestion, she slipped past the other two mares and onto the stage, falling into third position before briefly gliding across the stage, stopping in the middle, looking out into the audience. All the chairs, folded up, nearly unreal. Except she couldn’t dream now, so this had to be real. Ariadne bit her lip and glanced back to Inge and Leila, a sudden beam of a smile covering her face. “This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done, ever, I think.”

___

For a moment, Leila watched. 

There was a different kind of happiness that came with watching someone you cared for utterly possessed by joy. To see Ariadne with such excitement etched in every line of her face… She didn’t need to see the inside of the opera house, didn’t need to know that it looked like the inside of a red velvet jewelry box; she didn’t need to hold the costumes in her hands and run the fabric between her fingers so she might examine every stitch. To watch Ariadne’s joy was enough. More than enough, actually. Leila wished she could trap  the moment in time with the feeling attached, to revisit when things got dark.

It was only when the young mare looked back towards herself and Inge that Leila snapped out of her reverie and stepped out onto the stage. “It really is something else, isn’t it…?” She remembered reading about the opera house’s construction in the news. She’d seen wood engraving illustrations of this place. Then lithographs, photographs, digital images. But never did she think she would see the real thing. The lights would go down, and her eyes would light up, and that was not a safe thing. So despite the beauty, she’d stayed away. 

Inge was the one who had made this possible, who had told the mares that they could actually achieve such a thing. She turned to glance at the other woman, feeling the sting of tears welling in her eyes. All she could do was mouth a small ‘thank you’ and smile.

___

Once, a lifetime ago, she’d taken Vera to see the ballet in Amsterdam. They’d biked there, just the two of them, all giddy and excited to see the production of Sleeping Beauty. It wasn’t really her kind of scene, as ballet was refined in a way that Inge thought she’d find boring — but she’d looked at it the same way her daughter had. Mouth slightly agape, transfixed by the movements of the dancers. The memory sneaked up on her as Ariadne moved over the stage.

It was a memory best banished. She’d come here for some rule-breaking fun, not to be swept up in nostalgia and grief. And so she watched Ariadne and smiled, because it was good to see the young dancer so excited. It wasn’t easy to die and come back, to have something like life robbed from you — even if something better was returned to you. Inge looked over at Leila, followed her onto the stage.

The older mare looked moved, eyes watering as she mouthed a thank you. Inge gave a small nod, “It really is. And with that I mean your technique, Ariadne.” She was a little teasing, but she meant it too. Ariadne could be a ballet dancer all her life. She’d never age out of the job. She’d always be fresh-faced and perfect for the harsh world where mortal bodies gave in. “We should attend a performance one day. We can easily sneak in.” Or buy tickets, but where was the fun in that?

___

She continued to feel a deep sense of joy about everything that was happening, and she had two people who she hadn’t even known a couple years ago to thank for it. People who made her feel like what she was wasn’t something shameful, but was instead something worthwhile. Even if the two of them went about it in drastically different ways, it was a welcomed feeling and one that Ariadne wanted to drink up just like the dozens of cans of Dr. Pepper that she had in her apartment.

“Thank you.” If she could’ve blushed, she would’ve. “I have danced since I could like, walk, or even sort of before, so I’ve had practice.” Because even if she reveled in the compliment, there was always a part of her that needed to push away compliments, to push away attention on her, at least direct attention. When she was actually dancing, she could pretend she was all alone and doing it for herself.

“I’d like that. The attending a performance. We could sneak in, yeah.” Even though that wasn’t like, legal, but neither was this and it wasn’t something that would hurt, and she could always get overpriced concessions and some sort of souvenir so that the ballet would make at least some amount of money. “That sounds perfect.”

___

Their Ariadne was practically made to be a ballerina. It was evident in the way she held herself, the way she moved. She doubted that the young mare would ever believe her, but Leila was certain that Ariadne was effortlessly graceful. She was born to dance, as Inge was born for art, as Leila was born for fashion. While some people only had a lifetime to pursue these passions, their curse was given alongside the gift of being able to continue the creation of the art forms they held so dear. 

Inge’s suggestion caught her by surprise. To sneak in… It couldn’t be so easy, could it? To hide away in the shadows while the minds of the audience soaked in the beauty performed before them? Leila had always worried she’d give herself away somehow. That the darkness that would consume the theatre would give her away, red eyes alight; that some unsuspecting dozer might become a meal if she were too hungry… But Inge seemed so sure that it was more than a possibility- it was something they could simply do… 

For the first time, Leila couldn’t help but wonder if all her decades of hiding away from the world had been for naught. The world had gone on, and she could have been a part of it, were it not for fear. 

A strange pang of regret lingered in her chest as she forced her smile to remain intact. She could still experience things now. It wasn’t too late to start living again- she had to keep believing that… “I think I’d like that. I think I’d like that very much.”

__

Inge truly did think that life was better as a mare, but in this moment as Ariadne spoke of her youth she felt a strange hint of melancholy. There was something so easy to pity about the young mare, who was still so tightly connected to her mortal life. In a few decades perhaps that would be over, she was sure, but for now it was at times a sad sight to see.

Which was why they were here, now. Not to think of the sad things that ruled their – and perhaps everyone’s – lives, but to revel in what they had been given. “Most children dance from the moment they can walk,” she said, “Not like you, though.” She meant it. She wanted Ariadne to be confident in her craft, as that would only improve it. One day, maybe, there could be a production that was all theirs — stage decor by Inge, costumes by Leila and choreography by Ariadne.

The future was brighter with undead friends on ones side, that much she knew by now. And even if she were to turn her back on Maine at some point, these two would only be an astral project away. “Then we’ll do that. You can pick, Ariadne, and we’ll go.” Inge smiled. “Come, there’s far more for us to see.” With that, she turned around to guide her friends deeper into the theatre.

[ariadnes-red-thread]

HELLO!!!!

is me again hehe <3

lately, i've been thinking about how Jesse and how his strong devotion and loyalty translates into a relationship. so i was thinkingggggg, a scenario where Jesse needs to be walked of the edge of a heated situation and needs reassurance that he's it for reader. that he's the man reader wants to be with and will stand be his side.

can be either SFW or NSFW (with agender reader with female parts??? that would make me so happy) what ever is sparking your lovely imagination.

so appreciate and love and am grateful i found your beautiful writing and met such an amazing person <3

Mythos, my dear! Thank you so much for the ask!! I saw your second ask too and I hope I’ve done your beautiful request justice. Jesse is so passionate but that’s exactly what we love about him and the idea of being able to show him that when he was feeling insecure is exactly what he deserves! I completely got carried away with this and ended up writing over 2.5k words (although it’s never enough for Jesse!). I hope you like it! Thank you for celebrating with me, love!

Pairing: Jesse x GN!/Anatomically Female Reader

Warnings: General Creepiness, Threats of Violence, Canon-Typical content, Self-Doubt, Explicit Sexual Content *MINORS DNI*

You finally made it to the bar on a particularly busy night at 79’s. It was way more work than it should have been for a glass of water, but the dance floor that Jesse had kept you glued to all night was hot, and you were parched.

You could still see him through the crowd. His cog tattoo and shaved head helped him stand out among his identical brothers. That and you’d be able to spot his grin anywhere. He was in his civies tonight, a black t-shirt and his lone pair of jeans. Jesse always looked good, but you enjoyed your current vantage point and took a moment to check out the handsome man. You had only been on dating for a few months. Your friend had been hot and heavy with Fives since the moment she met the goateed clone. It had taken her a few tries to convince you to join them on a double date with one of his brothers who Fives insisted you’d like. You hadn’t been expecting much, not because you didn’t like Fives, but simply because you didn’t imagine someone like him could be your type. Jesse had swept you off your feet, though. You hadn’t admitted it to him yet, but you were falling fast. His endearing charm, constant sarcasm, lighthearted take on life, the passion that burned bright through him, and the kindness and understanding he always showed you made it easy to fall. You watched him move under the neon lights, and you felt a wide smile creep across your face. Jesse always seemed to put that smile there.

So it was Jesse and the lights and the music’s fault that you didn’t notice a crowd of people behind you until one of them stumbled into your back. You spun around, ready to apologize for taking up precious bar space before you realized it was a group of nat-borns. Instantly, your defense went up.

It wasn’t often that other civilians wandered into 79’s, and the ones that did were usually there to cause problems. So as you eyed up the stumbling rough and rowdy group, you didn’t have to go looking to know that they were likely trouble. Unfortunately, as Jesse often liked to remind you, with a deep laugh and elbow to your ribs, trouble usually came looking for you.

“Hey,“ The tallest one slurred as he looked you up and down. “Come here often?”

“Yup.” Your reply was curt, and you hoped they would take the hint when you turned back to face the bar.

Instead, a hand came to your shoulder.

“Hey, I was talking to you.” He was suddenly close, his breath rank and hot on your face as he yanked you towards. “You think you’re too good for us.”

“Don’t touch me.” You took a full step away as you warned him.

“Slummin’ it here with all these test tube freaks.” He closed in on you again. “Let me show you what a real man can do.”

You raised your hands, about to shove him backward, when a familiar arm slid over your shoulder. Despite your guard being up, you instantly knew who was next to you.

“Problem here?”

Your eyes didn’t move from the creep, but you could hear the eternal grin on Jesse’s face. You didn’t mistake the grin for carelessness. Instead, you knew it was just Jesse. He was always calm until he wasn’t.

“Ahh, I see. No problem.” The man stumbled back into his friends before muttering under his breath. “Freak fucker.”

“What did you call them?”

Your head snapped up at the sudden change in tone in Jesse’s voice. He wasn’t grinning anymore. His hand left your shoulder as he began to stiffen at your side. The man didn’t realize his mistake as he kept hurling insults your way.

“They’re just another slut for you meat droids. The Republic needs to end the war so they can take you all out with the trash.”

In split seconds, Jesse lept past you. He swung, his fist connecting with the creep’s jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He threw another jab, catching the man with a blow to the nose before he stumbled out of Jesse’s reach.

Your stomach dropped as one of the friends lunged for Jesse, whose gaze was still on the instigator. But never one to be caught off guard, Jesse side-stepped the second man in the same moment he spun, landing a uppercut into the man’s stomach.

You balled your fists, ready to follow Jesse when another hand came to your shoulder. You cocked a fist back but Kix’s voice found you before you could swing.

“You jump in, you just make it worse for him.”

You huffed in response. Kix wasn’t wrong. You knew Jesse could handle a few nat-borns by himself and he would only be distracted if you started to fight. Still, your fist stayed balled by your side.

In the next moment, a flash of red by the door caught your eye. The Courscant Guard was here. They were always close by on busy nights, keeping the peace however they had to. The three clones positioned themselves by the door. You recognized Thorn by his helmet. He posted himself in the corner, a shiny on either on side of him. You knew he wouldn’t intervene unless he had to, but if Jesse kept at it, Thorn wouldn’t have a choice.

Kix saw Thorn too. He set his jaw and dove into the fray. He emerged with an arm wrapped around Jesse’s waist, tugging the scowling man out of the scuffle. Kix turned, tossing his brother away from the seething nat-borns before he spun around to face them again.

“Get out.” Kix pointed to the door. “Or you’re going to have a lot more meat droids to deal with.”

The instigator snarled through a bloody nose and spit at Kix’s feet. Jesse yelled out and charged for the man again. You turned to face him, stepping into his path and putting your hands on his chest. Jesse looked down at you, his face instantly softening just a bit.

“Jesse - we’re leaving now.” The words were an order but your tone was gentle, hoping you could reach the part of him that had just relaxed under your palms.

He frowned, his eyes quickly back on his target. The men were rapidly retreating out the door, with side-glances thrown at the Guards in red. You felt Jesse twitch, like he wanted to chase after them.

“It’s okay, Jess.” Kix’s voice came from behind you now, calm and quiet. “Just let go it.”

“They’re not worth it.” You lifted one palm to Jesse’s face, laying it on his cheek with just enough pressure to coax him into looking at you. “Please, Jesse.”

His hand came up to your forearm, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Okay,” The words were breathy as they left his mouth. “Okay, okay. You’re right.”

You lifted to meet his lips, capturing him in a quick, grateful kiss.

He exhaled as you pulled away, breaking the brief kiss. You ran your thumb along his cheekbone, tracing the lower rim of his tattoo. Then your hand fell to find his hand at his side.

“Let’s go home.”

You tugged him towards the exit. As you pulled Jesse out of the club, you threw on glance back to search over his shoulder, quickly finding the familiar eyes of Kix. He tilted his head in question, and you nodded in reassurance. He smiled back and raised his glass in a grateful salute before he turned back to the dancefloor. Jesse followed you to the door in a daze. The adrenaline of the fight had worn off, and he hung almost limp as he drifted behind you.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Jesse was almost catatonic. His lids hung heavy over his eyes as he sank onto the edge of your bed. He hadn’t said a word since you left 79’s. You were starting to get worried. Rather than press him to talk, you went to the kitchen and got a wet washcloth. Returning to find him unmoved in the bedroom, you knelt before him. Coaxing him to take off his shoes, you placed them next to yours at the end of the bed. Then you turned your attention to his bruised knuckles. Taking his calloused hand in yours, you started to dab at the scrapped skin.

“You… you don’t have to do that.” Jesse stuttered as he finally spoke.

“I’m happy to, Jesse.” You tried to smile up at him but his sleepy gaze had turned into a wide eyed stare and it caught you off guard.

“No, I mean you shouldn’t have to do that.” He yanked his hand out of yours.

You barely had time to wonder at his sudden movement before he was up on his feet, pacing across your small bedroom.

“Jesse, talk to me.” You kept your voice gentle, not out of fear but out of caring. You wanted him to know you were there for him.

“You deserve better, you know.”

You frowned but before you could protest, Jesse spoke again, never breaking his relentless stride.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a hothead. All I know is how to fight.” Jesse ran his fingers over his broken knuckles. “You deserve more than that.”

He finally stopped his pacing as he caught his form in the full length mirror that hung on your wall. His frown grew as he studied himself.

“Look at me.” His shoulders slumped and his eyes fell to the floor. “I was bred for this. Bred to be a soldier and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

You quickly clambered to your feet. He didn’t move from his position in front of the mirror. You stood behind him, savoring his closeness for a moment. You wrapped your arms around him at his waist and pulled him in tight to you.

“I love your fire, Jesse. I love that you’re a fighter.”

He let out a single dry laugh. It was so soulless, so unlike Jesse. You held him a little closer.

“Look at you, Jesse.” You settled your head on his shoulder, stretching to peer at your combined reflections. “You want to know what I see?”

He finally raised his head, hesitantly meeting your eyes.

“I see how passionately you care, how you love so strongly that you would go to war for those you care about. Your brothers know that. They love and respect you for that. But that fire isn’t all you are.”

“You can make me smile on the hardest of days. You keep calm in far more situations than you give yourself credit for. You like to pretend you don’t care but I can see how deeply you do.” You dug your fingers into his shirt, gripping his ribs, trying to convey how much you wanted him. “Don’t ever say you’re just a soldier. You’re so much more than that, Jesse.”

Jesse’s eyes were shining as his reflection stared back at you. He took your arm from his waist and tugged you in front of him, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders folding you into his warmth. You reached up and held onto his arms like he was the only liferaft in the sea. He started to grin again. You leaned your head back into him with a sigh and a smile.

“I’m so lucky to have met you.” Jesse murmured as he kissed the top of your head.

“We’re both lucky.”

You turned your head to lay a gentle kiss on his bicep. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the smirk on his face widen just a little. He pressed a kiss to your neck. And then another. You tilted your head, giving him more access to your sensitive flesh. One of hands that laid across your chest searched out your pert nipple and began to tease it gently through the rough fabric of your shirt. You leaned back into him with a soft moan, grinding your hips against him, feeling him harden behind you. Jesse’s lips found your ear.

“Oh, cyare,” Jesse’s words were dark and husky. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

His other hand snaked its way down your front, finding the waistline of your pants. Jesse pushed the fabric aside, sinking one knuckle into your already wet center.

“See what you do to me.” You breathlessly muttered. “Jesse, I need you.”

His hands jumped to your waist to find the hem of your shirt. Gentle fingers traced a line up your side, gathering your shirt as he went. Jesse paused at your mid-waist and looked at you. You nodded, giving him permission to proceed. He whipped the top off of you in the next moment. You spun to face him, needy for the feeling of his skin on yours. You tugged at the ends of his shirt, and he quickly obliged. You ran your hands over his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin and the sturdy build of his muscles.

Jesse bent to meet you and quickly captured your lips in his, kissing you deeply. He still tasted like a hint of whiskey. His tongue swirled with yours in a bruising fury and you felt yourself craving more of him. You broke apart for a moment, both turning your attention to your pants. The last bits of clothing was quickly removed and kicked aside.

Jesse spun you around to face the mirror and then pressed his wide palm on the small of your back, coaxing you into bending over. You gave into his directions, bringing a hand to the wall on either side of the mirror. You felt him run his length along your aching slit. You let out a breathy moan as he brushed along your clitoris, your head falling and eyes closing at the glorious friction.

“Oh no, cyare,” Jesse’s back was suddenly pressed against you, and his hand was on your jaw. He guided your head back up so you were staring into his deep brown eyes.

“That’s it,” he nipped at your neck as he stood again, lining himself up. “Let me see those eyes.”

You stared up at him, meeting his dark look in the mirror. His pupils were blown. Jesse stood again, towering over you. You bit your lip as you studied the breathtaking man for the briefest moment.

Then he entered you. His member filled you, reaching your furthest depths at this angle. The ache of being so full was quickly replaced by a overwhelming pleasure as Jesse’s hand snaked its way around you, deftly finding your already sensitive nub again. He teased small circles as he slowly began to move, dragging his cock from you before swiftly entering you again. Soon, his hips pistoned into you and you pushed back off of the wall, meeting him with every stroke. His other hand held your hip on a strong grip. You cried out his name as a wave of orgasm overtook you. Jesse followed behind, filling you as he finished.

You stood up and swayed on weak legs. Jesse quickly gathered you into his chest, showering your shoulders with kisses.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your skin.

“Always.” You sighed, leaning back into him. The next words left your mouth before you even considered them. “I love you, Jesse.”

Your stomach dropped for a moment. You knew you meant it but maybe it was too soon, too early. Before you could take it back, you looked to him in the mirror. His dark brown eyes found your suddenly wide ones and they were bright, all lust replaced with a vast joy. He quickly spun you to face him. Cupping your face in his hands, he tilted you up towards him.

“I love you too.”

His lips captured yours and his hands fell to wrap around your waist. Your heart soared as he squeezed you tighter to him.

“Now come on,” Jesse smirked before he stepped backwards, tuggiing you towards the bed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

[gendertarot]

Invihermitam / Invihermitat: An inviane identity that can only be described by this specific version of the Hermit, by Aka Skyweb. This card is found in the Ariadne's Thread Tarot and the Alleyman's Tarot. This may be used on its own, or as a gender, aldern, or any other aspect of identity.

[ID: two rectangular flags with 5 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are dark grey, off white, cardinal red, off white, dark grey. In the middle of the first flag, there is a Hermit tarot card. The card depicts a man with a curled snake tail. The man is bearded and wearing a decorated cap. They hold a hook-ended staff in one hand, and with the other they hold up a lantern that resembles a winged figure hanging upside down. A red thread stretches across the image, hanging off the lantern and the staff. At the bottom is the roman numeral 9. End ID.]