#thread : ariadne

[capriciouswriter207]

Empires SMP s1 au where Jimmy volunteers to go to Rivendell, who's been drafting young people from the Codlands to feed to the beast trapped in the labyrinth below the castle. Scott wants to help. Chaos  - and romance ensues.

[bigshoeswamp]

by Laerte Coutinho

[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.»

[justbelievinginmagic]

fic updates bc february is ending (currently writing in this order) like a waltz pt 5 - 70% written (currently 15k words), fully time-lined out and lightly edited. ariadne's thread pt 13 - 15% written (currently 2.2k words), fully time-lined out BUT re-evaluating chapter. im(mortal) pt 4 - 10% written (currently 500 words), not fully time-lined out.

[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.

[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."

[ohwynne]

TIMING: The day after Wynne returned from Ireland, ~30 april PARTIES: Ariadne @ariadnewhitlock & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Ariadne's abode SUMMARY: Wynne and Ariadne are reunited. They have a lot to catch up on. WARNINGS: N/A

For their forever. Because Ariadne’s forever and Wynne’s forever were not synonymous, but now it was now, and they tried not to think about it too much.

Wynne was back and Ariadne should’ve been jumping for joy. She was, at least mostly. Even if certain recent encounters had left her stuck back in her apartment, not wanting to even go to her father’s store. But Wynne was back and she was going to get to see them and hold them and kiss them and do anything else with them that either of the two of them wanted, and that was beautiful. Relaxing. Calming.

So when they knocked at her apartment’s door, she jumped up (practically jetéing across the floor) and opened the door. Thankfully it was Wynne, and not Jade or somebody else come back to finish a job that Ariadne was, in fact, very much not a fan of.

“I love you.” Were the first words out of her mouth as she pulled them into the apartment. “I love you. I missed you. I’m – you’re here.” Which, duh, but it felt practically like a prayer to say – to speak into existence. Not that she’d ever been especially religious, but Wynne was something worth praying about. Not in the way that had been the case with their old home, but Ariadne could think of more than a couple of good reasons to be on her knees for them.

“What – what first? Should – what – I love you.” That was all she could really manage to get out. “I’ve got lemonade and stuff if you want. I’m good – I mean, good to do whatever you want to do.” She offered them a smile, soft, the sort that made it to her eyes.

—

They were back. They were all alive. They were breathing in the Maine air and so was Nora, so was Elias so was Regan. Wynne still felt like part of them was in Ireland, though, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they spun a wheel, as their judgment determined that Regan’s wings should be taken away. They still felt like they were on the clinic floor with Elias, everything wet with tears and blood.

They felt grounded on Emilio’s motorcycle, though, their hands wrapped around his body as the wind whipped around them. The feeling dissipated when they separated from their – from Emilio and once they knocked on the door their fist was stuck in a blue glove and tainted with blood.

But when Ariadne opened the door they were in Maine again. She told them she loved them and Wynne echoed the words back, “I love you.” They took her in their arms once they were inside, taking a deep breath in. Her scent hadn’t changed, they realized — they had tried to imagine it when they’d been gone but hadn’t been able to. But it was the same. It was almost all the same. “I’m here.”

They pulled back to look at Ariadne, pressing a kiss on her lips. “Nothing, I — we can just sit. Or lie together. I just want to be — just you. And nothing else. Just you.” The taste of lemonade would distract them. The flicker of a TV screen would take away from her. They wanted Ariadne and nothing else. 

—

They pulled her into a kiss and she melted into them.

She was still in one of their sweaters, because of course she was. Ariadne didn’t want to think about everything that had happened since they’d been gone, and how this reunion almost wasn’t. Because of her and also because Ireland was apparently a bad place and had made her wonder if it was possible to give a country nightmares for hurting her most beloved.

“You’re here.” She affirmed, once again prayer-like, a whisper just between the two of them, hardly any sort of words spoken. Not that the two of them needed to speak much, there’d been a sort of innate understanding between them even before they’d become each other’s partner.

“We could lie together. I’d like that. I missed that.” So, so much. More than she could ever hope to articulate, but again, with Wynne there was never any sort of worry about not being understood. They understood her better than anybody ever had, and there was a beautiful magic in that (which was something Ariadne would’ve said even before she knew that magic was an actual, real, and legit thing that existed).

She took their hand in hers, folding her fingers into theirs, needing any and every bit of physical contact that the two of them could possibly have. “I just want you too.” In a hungry way, but a hunger that she liked, one that made her belly feel warm and comforted and not ashamed. She couldn’t focus on the shame right now, not when Wynne was standing right in front of her – the most beautiful and extraordinary person in the whole world, or even possibly (probably) the universe. 

“Bed?” She looked over at them, eyes wide and soft. “Or couch? We can – whichever you want. I just want – well, you. Just you.”

—

They had spent their nights in Ireland trying to remember what Ariadne had felt like, lying in bed with them. Where her hand had snaked over their body or how she’d pressed her head against their neck. Wynne had felt empty, there. The bed had been cold, their dreams had been filled with ugly things and every morning there had been the urge to text her and the dread that came with doing so.

But she was here again. Something about her seemed heavier, though. Maybe it was just the way they looked at the world now, though. Through whatever the opposite of rose-tinted lenses was. With a thunderstorm in the back of their mind, the smell of death and saol eile in their nose and their shoulders aching from proverbial weight on them. 

It had been hard to think of home, though. To think of Ariadne at home, of anyone back in Wicked’s Rest was so very impossible when surrounded with banshees and death and stubborn people. It had been hard to make their mind grasp it all, all those people they cared about when there were three in Ireland they were actively trying to scramble together. So maybe they had missed something. Maybe they should have been better about checking in.

Wynne nodded, “I missed it too. Sleeping without you was very … cold and sad,” they gave a small smile. They folded their hands with hers in return, pulling her hands to their chest and kissing her knuckles softly. “Let’s curl up in bed. With some candy. And just … we can just lay there.” They couldn’t speak of it yet, what had happened. What they had set in motion, what they had caused. What they had witnessed. “Okay?”

—

“I’m just so glad to see you.” It was repetitive, but it was true. It was repetitive in a way that was comforting, rather than one that was bad or made her stomach turn or anything like that. Even though her stomach was turning but that was entirely by coincidence. Also very (very) much something that she wanted to stop focusing on at all costs. Being with Wynne made it easier, but Ariadne still couldn’t stop going back to the store, or to Siobhan’s office, and she felt small again, and insignificant, and panicked, and – 

She shook her head, refocusing on Wynne. She knew that she probably seemed off, or not quite her usual self. She was her most authentic self with them, and she still wanted to be, and still tried to be, but Ariadne felt heavier, felt tired, if such a thing were possible when you didn’t need to sleep, but even if it weren’t technically possible, it was very much happening right here and now.

“Let’s curl up.” She took their hand in hers, brought it to her lips. “I am sorry it was cold and sad without me, but I am here now.” Even though I almost wasn’t. “Of course it’s okay.” They were alive and Jade and that blonde lady didn’t know where she lived (right?) and so they would be safe. She would make sure Wynne was safe. Ariadne wasn’t going to let anything happen to them, not if she could help it.

She grabbed a bag of Swedish Fish and another of Berry Life Saver gummies and pulled Wynne toward her bedroom. “I – there’s more in there.” Her thoughts flashed to what she had in her drawer. Maybe. If she could swallow her nerves. She’d see.

“I got a new fluffy blanket.” Ariadne said as she guided the two of them to her room. “We can use that, or anything else.” She pushed open the door to her room with her foot. “I love you. I – it’s so good that you’re home.”

—

“Me too,” they said. Wynne was familiar with the feeling of missing someone. They’d spent every day since they’d ran away missing people. Everyone they had ever known had disappeared from their life the moment they’d turned their back on them and they’d often spent their afternoons trying to remember what they looked like. Their cousins, their brother, their parents, Beca. It was part of them now, that piece of them that had gone missing – but it had also been accepted as part of. (Maybe not the grief for Iwan, though — they would never be able to breathe around that easily.) 

It had been different to miss Ariadne though. When they’d gone to Ireland they had gone with the intention to return and so the missing was a promise. It was a temporary state of being – or it was supposed to be. They had to miss Ariadne (and all others they’d left behind) but only for a little while. It hadn’t made it easier, especially not as Saol Eile became more and more of a trap with no way out.

But it didn’t matter now. They were around her again. Something felt off, but so much also felt right, especially when Ariadne pressed their lips against their hand. “We’re here now.” She was real. Wynne was real. Ireland had come and gone and the fall out would continue to stick to them like tar, but for now Ariadne was here and real. They felt their throat close up. 

They moved to the bedroom, murmuring an, “I love you too,” and an, “I was so scared I was never —” Even in a murmur they couldn’t finish the sentence. They closed the door behind and moved toward the bed, where Ariadne and them landed on the new fluffy blanket. “I was so scared.” 

It was easy to find her in the bed, to fit in her arms and fit her in theirs in return. To embrace and lay there. “I – are you okay?” The question was asked after a moment of laying there, after they’d felt the comfort of Ariadne’s cold skin against their own warm one. Wynne looked up at her, their head against her shoulder, eyebrows creased. 

—

“Okay.” She sighed again. Too much of her talking was sounding like sighing right now. Which she didn’t especially like. But she felt tired – too impossibly tired – and she wasn’t sure quite how to contend with all of that. Right now though, maybe she didn’t have to. Through some sort of impossible miracle, Wynne seemed to love her no matter what, and so maybe, at least for them, she didn’t have to fake things. Which meant maybe she should also tell them what had happened. Ariadne tried to push Jade’s face out of her thoughts, to come back and focus on what was going on here and right now.

She was with them again, they were here, and she didn’t want to take her hands off of them. Thankfully, the two of them once again seemed to be very much on the same page, and Ariadne figured Wynne wasn’t going to stop touching her anytime soon. “We’re here now.” She echoed, like a promise.

“I am sorry you were so scared. Fear is a terrible thing.” It was also the reason Jade had gone after her. Because she was fear. Fear, with a capital F. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you from here. I’m –” she cut herself off. What mattered was that they were here now. Not that Ariadne hadn’t been able to comfort them from across an ocean.

She took them in her arms and breathed in their smell, the one that the clothes of theirs that she’d borrowed had started to lose the longer they’d been gone. Breathed them in and pulled them close, and then they were looking at her and giving her an opening and she really didn't want to take it, but if not now, then when? She owed Wynne honesty. “I – no. It – stuff here got hard.” She kissed them. “It –” Ariadne could feel the threat of shaking work its way through her body, but she focused on Wynne. “I – you remember the van?” She could have been sick, just at the mention. “I – it wasn’t that, but…” her voice trailed off, becoming impossibly quiet. 

—

The moment they spent kicking off their shoes felt like an eternity, as if it was wrong to be spending their energy on something other than Ariadne. But Wynne didn’t want to be in bed with shoes on — there were some things a person just shouldn’t do. In the end it only took a minute, anyway, and they pulled their legs up, their knees against the other’s stomach, their eyes boring into hers.

They were tired, but they’d never really get tired of looking at her. “We’re here.” They were alive. Nora was alive, Elias was, Regan was. They’d come home and though it had all gone disastrously they were all mostly whole. (Regan’s wings — those were — they couldn’t think of it.)

They were were and so was Ariadne. They weren’t afraid. 

But that only lasted for a moment. When Ariadne started answering their question their stomach grew hard, their muscles tightening, their eyes averting. She kissed them and they tried to kiss her back but it was hard to when questions were rising and guilt was making it so that they wanted to vanish. Why did they keep leaving if people they loved got hurt every time they did? 

They pulled back and looked at Ariadne, still not tired of the sight of her but tired of everything. “What happened?” Their voice was quiet, a choked thing. “Did someone hurt you?” They should have texted more, they should have been better about reaching out. They should have stayed. They — 

“I’m sorry.”

—

She couldn’t stop saying “we’re here”, because a part of her figured that if she didn’t say it, she’d wind up having made this all up. Except that all this was all good and she couldn’t create good dreams, only the worst sort of ones. Ariadne tried to not think about that though (even if it was really all that she could think of) and to just focus on the touch that she’d missed so so very much. The hunger that she felt for Wynne was one that she welcomed, one that made her feel warm all over and want to melt into them.

Ariadne looked at them looking at her and she felt their kiss as something not as strong as it usually was, and her stomach twisted, once again, and she felt like her head was spinning. Around and around until they asked if she’d been hurt – no, if someone had hurt her – and they knew Jade and yet she still wanted to make them hate her. Which was bad, right? To want to make someone hate someone else.

Except she couldn’t help herself.

“Please – you don’t – you don’t need to be sorry.” She squeezed their hand.

It’ll be okay. She had to reassure herself. “You know Jade, yeah? She – I – she came into my dad’s work, I was chilling there because when you weren’t here it was better to find any possible way I could to distract myself, but I – she came in and asked for help and I helped her and than –” Ariadne felt herself choke up. “She hit me with a shovel and was gonna kill me. I’m sorry.” She felt extremely small all of a sudden. “I got out, which, yeah… but it’s – I – oh, and a banshee also tried to kill me because I am like an…affor– a-something to Fate? Death? I’m bad, basically.” She lay back against her pillow, though did her best to keep her hand still around Wynne’s. “I – yeah.”

—

Jade. Ariadne said that name and continued and every muscle in Wynne’s body tensed with horror. Jade was a slayer. Jade, who they had invited into their home, who they had laughed with, who they had worried about Regan with, whose letter they had taken to Ireland. Whose ring they had dived up for Regan, who they had thought a friend. Jade. Ariadne continued to speak, painting a picture of cruelty and determination. Had Jade waited until they were gone? Had she known what Ariadne was? Had she always meant to go after her? 

And then Ariadne went on. A banshee had come, too, and had wanted to take Ariadne’s life as well because of their beliefs. Banshees had come to Wicked’s Rest and had tried to hurt people they cared for and they’d been in Ireland, not being effective enough in their purpose, taking too long to get Nora home. 

“No,” they said, shaking their head and propping themself up on an elbow. “No, don’t say that — listen to me, okay? You are not bad. You are good. You are the best person I know, everything you do is done with kindness and consideration.” And yes, Ariadne had to give people nightmares to live, but everyone did bad things to live. 

They felt the urge to cry but contained themself, remembering their lessons. If they started to cry, then Ariadne would be lost. They had to be a beacon, a rock in the ocean to hold onto. They had to be there now, because they hadn’t been. “They are bad. People who want to kill you, you — you good, you beautiful thing — they are bad. I am sorry, that that happened, that I wasn’t there. I am glad you got away. That —” They hiccupped, their suppressed tears finding another way out. “We’re here now.”

—

Even though she couldn’t really taste it, there was a certain reaction in Wynne’s body that screamed terrified, or something close to that. Ariadne didn’t like how easily she could figure this out, but she had to remind herself that there was very easily a chance that even if she wasn’t a monster (she wasn’t supposed to say that word, even if it was – even if it felt true). She loved Wynne enough to be so acutely aware of them and everything they did. So this could have been that. God, she hoped it was. Even though in any situation Wynne was scared and Ariadne hated every possible situation where they were scared. Always wanted to make them better, or at least make them feel safe and calm. She hated being part of the cause of their horror.

“Okay.” Her voice was small again. She wanted to make it big, wanted to more fully affirm everything Wynne was saying, but she felt child-like and all-too ashamed even though Wynne was the last person she’d ever feel ashamed about. They’d seen more of her than just about anyone (both literally as well as her mind), but she still felt ashamed. Still felt as though she shouldn’t be burdening them with this. That they deserved better. That she’d done something to trick them into thinking she wasn’t a monster.

But she had to remind herself that they weren’t the sort to lie, and they’d had plenty of chances to leave her and they hadn’t.

“Okay.” She affirmed again, voice just a tiny bit louder. “I – you’re beautiful too.” Was all that she could say, at first. Then, “thank you.” Because she was so thankful for them. So thankful that they still saw her as beautiful, despite everything. “We’re here now, and you don’t need to be sorry. I just – I was worried I was never gonna see you again.”

Ariadne kissed them again, tentative, light, butterfly-touch. “I’m glad I got away. I can’t – I – there’s still so much more I want to do with you.” Even some things that she needed to work up the courage to actually bring up.

—

Was this their fate, then? That every time they were separated – be it by choice or by force – it would lead to their near-ends? There had been the barn and the van, and now there was the aos sí and what had happened at Ariadne’s store. Wynne found themself holding her tighter to confirm she was really here and she was really safe. They wanted to never let her go. They wanted their embrace to be strong enough to make Ariadne see how they saw her. 

“I was worried, too,” they said, “But we are here now. And those people, that wanted us dead, they failed. Okay? Time and time again.” But one day – wouldn’t one day – wouldn’t it come for them, this thing nipping at their heels? Banshees would call it fate but Wynne thought of it as a reckoning that was doomed to come for them. A scythed figure waiting in the wings. A demon, coming up from the earth or down from the sky. Retribution.

They tried to suppress their dread and tried to kiss Ariadne back but it wasn’t working, their lips too tight with their suppressed sobs. In stead they pressed their nose into the crook of her neck in stead. “I’m here now. And we’re going to do all the things you want and then some.” They were crying a little now, tears dripping from their nose onto Ariadne’s cold skin. They blinked and moved their head up, sniffling at her.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen.” To her. To them. To anyone, ever again. They closed their eyes and laid down their head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. They thought of Nora, of Elias, of Regan. Of all the blood. “Do you want to help me sleep?” It felt like they hadn’t slept for two weeks, and that much might as well be true — there was no sleep without Ariadne. Wynne turned on their side to look at her from the pillow. “Or I can stay awake longer, too. I’m just –” They smiled a little sadly. “Tired.”

—

“They failed.” She echoed again. Except they’d come so close to not failing. To succeeding. Ariadne still didn’t know everything that had happened back in Ireland, and she didn’t need to. Wynne could tell her when the time was right, and she’d never push them to do anything they didn’t want to. Which they knew – in an unspoken way, the beautiful way that they could seamlessly understand each other – something Ariadne was so deeply grateful for.

“We’ll do everything on earth we can do.” She offered them a smile, kissing the top of their head as their nose found the crook of her neck, as always. They fit together perfectly, as always. She only wished that she could make their tears go away – not because it made her uncomfortable, or because she didn’t love each and every part of them. Because she did. Unconditionally. Ariadne loved everything about Wynne, even the things she didn’t know about them yet.

“I don’t either,” she sighed. “I can help you sleep - but – I – one second.” She turned away from them for a moment, pulling open the drawer on her bedside table, grabbing something, and turning back.

Ariadne held it out to them. A ring pop. Still wrapped up, labeled as ‘Berry Blast’, multi-colored, the colors blending together near-perfectly. “I – uh.” Maybe this was too much. They hadn’t even been together for a year. But her parents had always said that when you know you know, and this wasn’t the full thing. Just a promise to Wynne. So Ariadne steadied herself.

“I love you.” That much was easy to say. “You are the best part of my life, and I’d like to - uh - well, propose to propose, sometime. I’d – someday I’d like to get you a real engagement ring, but I wanted to give you this one as a placeholder until that happens. If – if you want that too?” She fidgeted with the wrapper. “Either way, I won’t leave you but I – yeah – uh – you’re my favorite everything and I’d really like to self-upgrade to the title of wife someday, if you wanted. Upgrade us to spouses.” If she could’ve blushed, she knew that she would’ve. “But it – yeah. We – ” Ariadne cut herself off, looking up at Wynne.

—

They had failed, but someone had succeeded when it had been Ariadne already once. She had died once already at the hands of another and Wynne felt heavy with it. It remained true, that they would never hold what she was over her head — but they would always feel saddened by it. That this had happened before they had known her. (And that, if you turned it around, Iwan had died before Ariadne had known them.) Their would-be murderers had failed this time, but there had been close-calls, there had been Ariadne’s-murder and Wynne’s-replacement. They laid on graves.

But on graves flowers could grow. Had to, perhaps. Life had to continue, in spite of and because of. So of course they said, “Everything we want.” Their relationship had always been based on the promise of doing things. Good things, happy things, fulfilling things. Ariadne was a promise of an abundant life. And this, too, was abundance. Lying with her.

Ariadne separated from them to grab something and Wynne felt cold in her absence — even if she didn’t radiate heat. But she returned soon enough (as she always did). They propped themself up on an elbow to listen to and watch her, eyes taking in the large, candy ring and Ariadne’s nervousness. Their eyes were wide, their lips tugging at the corners in a smile that could not, would not and should not be repressed. 

It grew, their face splitting. There were still tears on their cheeks, and it was okay. Ariadne was speaking of commitment, of forever — or at least, forever for them. (Now was not the time to think of what would happen if, when, once –) Wynne nodded their head once Ariadne was done speaking and leaned forward, laying their hand on her cheek and giving a kiss on the tip of her nose, then her lips. “I love you too.” That much was clear. Perhaps the clearest thing in this confusing and cruel world. And they did not want to be without her, not in the way they had been in Ireland and not in any other way either. 

They held out their hand the way they were sure was right to, making it so that Ariadne could slide the ring pop on there. “I would like to do everything with you.” And though marriage was something Wynne hadn’t thought about, they had thought about forever, and couldn’t those things be synonymous? “I want it too. You, forever.” For their forever. Because Ariadne’s forever and Wynne’s forever were not synonymous, but now it was now, and they tried not to think about it too much.

—

There was something so sweet and beautiful and endlessly wonderful about the fact that things with them had really all started with a list. It had been a list just so that they didn’t forget what they wanted to do, which was nice. Nice to have a guarantee that she’d have someone to hang out with. Ariadne liked that sort of guarantee, and then of course Wynne was Wynne, and so of course she’d fallen in love with them (she wasn’t sure if fate existed, but some sort of outside force of good had to have brought Wynne into her life).

Lying with them was the most at peace she could feel with herself. 

So now the list meant so much more, because it was a series of promises that they’d made to each other. Ariadne could feel joy bubbling up in her chest, which was a nice change from how she’d felt recently. Which she wasn’t going to think about right now. She wasn’t going to ruin a perfectly wonderful moment with her anxieties. Lying with them made her feel warm again, made her feel like her heart did still beat, and after the day they’d agreed to be partners and she’d let Wynne see more of her than anybody ever had, and they’d touched her and had her in ways that made her feel so alive, she’d felt bright and happy and something good. 

They were reacting well to her proposal (or pre-proposal, maybe?) and that lessened her worries and she took their hand in hers and slipped the ring on and kissed them again. She wanted to devour them, but they were already hers, and so she could be calm about it. They didn’t want to leave her just as much as she didn’t want to leave them. 

Which was good, because whenever they were separated bad things happened, and she wasn’t sure how many more chances either of them had before whatever happened to them ended with one of them not coming back. Ariadne didn’t want to think about that, even though she very much thought about that far, far too much.

Still, Wynne was agreeing to doing everything and Ariadne grinned again. “I want you forever and ever.” She ran her hands along their arms. “So that’s a yes? I can find you another ring, one that’ll last, and we can – we can be each other’s forever?” Or at least their forever. Though Ariadne had a sneaking suspicion that no matter how long she lived, Wynne would still be her forever. She couldn’t quite imagine ever loving anybody else as much as she loved them.

“I love you, you make me feel alive.” Which was worth saying, even if she’d said it before. Even if it was cheesy. They deserved to hear it. “I’m alive when I’m with you. That sounds like a bad line out of some sort of … something, and I’m sorry if it’s real cheesy, but it’s true. You make me feel alive and make me feel whole, and I love you so much. I want to be yours, nobody else’s.”

—

Life was so fragile, so easily split at the seams and destroyed. Wynne had witnessed it time and time again, in the animals that had been sacrificed, in Jac’s death, in the way Elias had grown gray and pale after losing all that blood. In Ariadne, who had died and though she had come back, who must have lost something. In their brother, whose body they’d never see and whose death would never gain closure.

It was fragile. Forever could be weeks and months and years, but it could also be days. Only a few days ago, they had stood in front of tens if not hundreds of banshees, terrified that their death would become a spectacle for them to yell and screech at. And though they felt safe now, there was no saying how long that would last for either of them. A slayer might come knocking again soon, or a monster could come for them — so forever was precious, was fragile, was cherished.

But however long their forever would be, they wanted it filled with things that made them feel alive. Even if their heart felt heavy and their lungs hurt and their entire body was begging for the reprieve of dreamless sleep, they knew this. That no matter how exhausting life was, they wanted to grab life and live it. For Iwan. For Ariadne. For themself.

Ariadne kissed them and they kissed her back, their hand getting lost in her hair even when she started speaking. “I have your ring now,” they said, holding up the one they’d gotten from her a long while ago, “And this too.” The ring pop wouldn’t last. “But eventually, I’d like another, yes. One day.” It was too big to think about now, about what it was Ariadne was insinuating. But one day, of course— “I don’t want to ever be separate from you.” 

Wynne laid down a little, feeling a contentment and peace they hadn’t in weeks. It would disappear, it would be replaced by guilt and shame and worry, but for now they were here. In this bed, with the girl they loved, and a sugary ring around their finger. For now, it was enough to make the world as small as the mattress they were on. “I love you too.” They shook their head. “It’s not a bad line, it’s not cheesy. It’s true for me too. It’s … good.” To be alive, for all its pains and horrors, was what they wanted. What they owed themself to want. They had saved their own life twice now and it wasn’t just for Ariadne that they’d done so, that they had fought to leave that aos sí despite the blood, despite the threats. But she factored in it all. She was part of their life, of their beating heart, of their… well, everything. “I love you.” They blinked slowly at her. Exhaustion could not be replaced with this happiness, but it made it more tolerable. It was no longer a bone deep fatigue, but something softer. Like a pillow of feathers and clouds. “Did you … you know the clouds? In the plane? You’re as beautiful as them.”

—

The two of them weren’t being detailed in their planning, but Ariadne figured that didn’t so much matter. They’d both said that they wanted to be together for as long as was possible, to never be separated, and that was all that mattered for now. Ariadne was someone who liked certainty in the best of times, especially since dying, but after everything that had gone on recently, she needed it. Especially surrounding Wynne. She needed to be certain of them, to be sure that she wasn’t somehow imagining them, because something as horrible as that seemed all too possible, given everything.

But they were back from Ireland and alive and maybe hurt (they were both hurt, were that the case) but they were alive and here in her bed and she could touch them and know that they actually existed. She just had to tell herself that her imagination wasn’t good enough to come up with a scenario like this. Ariadne sucked at coming up with interesting nightmares, and so she figured (and had to, for her sanity) that she wouldn’t be able to dream up something this good. She’d tried it, while they’d been gone, to quite significant failure, and so this had to be real. 

She kissed Wynne again, just to make sure.

That and she figured they both had a whole lot of kissing to make up for.

“Oh, yes, the hug?” Ariadne scratched absent-mindedly at her neck. “The hug ring, I mean, but someday, I’ll get you another one. One that means even more of a forever. But that one does too, and so does this one.” She gestured to the candy. “Figured you should get a candy ring from me, given how much I eat and talk about it. Candy, I mean.” She hoped she’d done a good enough job at not talking so much about how much she wanted to marry Wynne. She didn’t want to scare them off. But they seemed to be in agreement with her, and she felt warm at the thought of it.

She nodded. “I – glad it’s good.” Relief continued to wash all over her, to envelop her – and she took Wynne into the relief, too. Because it was true, that the two of them really shouldn’t ever be apart, because everything turned awful then. Not even in just a standard ‘miss you partner’ way, but in a life-ending way. So laying here, in a place where it was just the two of them, in their own little world, was just right. It was good and it was safe and there was nothing but love and care, here.

“I love you.” Ariadne eagerly whispered back, inching closer to them than she would’ve thought possible. “The clouds all way up high? They feel like magic.” She wrapped one arm around Wynne’s waist. “I think you’re as beautiful as the sunlight that first peaks through the leaves of trees. A sign of hope and wonder for the coming day.” She brushed one hand over their face. “You are my hope for each and every day.” She breathed against them, breath sweet. “I can help you sleep now, if you’re ready? I’ll be here for whenever you wake up.”

—

The contrast between this feeling and the ones Wynne had been feeling the past weeks was so stark that they wondered for a moment if this was real. If this could be real, and if so, what a cruel trick it was of their mind to be capable of such different emotions followed up so quickly after each other. Or even at the same time, as it seemed that the horror they’d felt in Ireland was still there, as was the guilt, as was the anger. If they closed their eyes they might be in that car or that clinic again.

So they tried nothing but to focus on Ariadne. Blue eyes, with just the slightest shimmer of red in them. Her arms on their body. Her blonde hair long and tickling. They could separate her into a hundred tiny details – like the way her lip creased when she smiled – and love every one of them. It was a good distraction. It was a good reminder of why they were and wanted to be alive.

“I love all the rings,” they murmured. The ring pop’s purpose would be to be eaten, but they knew they wouldn’t. There were a hundred sugary treats in the world, but only one that Ariadne had given them during a confession of love. “I love your love of candy.” 

They let themself be held, leaned into the touch and hid their nose in the crook of the other’s body where neck turned into chest. Wynne wanted the world to be as small as this, for all else to be removed for only a moment so they could just inhale Ariadne’s scent and feel her cold touch all over them. They felt some tears drip from their eyes again, but they were welcomed as they were the kind that came from relief, from finally feeling a sense of peace after weeks and days of constant strain and stress. A release. Not quite the kind of release that would make all the aches of worry and trauma leave, but one all the same.

“They are like magic, so like you,” they said, smiling at the compliment. “I’d like that. I’m ready.” Wynne looked up, peeking at Ariadne from below, that smile still lingering on their lips. “Love you.” And so they let themself be guided into sleep, the first peaceful one they had known in quite some time, finally at home.

[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.”

[corvianbard]

#6955

Ariadne, once the lady of the bull's maze, Become a thread that leads us out of the craze That is caused by a drunken haze.

[tlmtwelve]

December 2024, Day 27: Ariadne

Playlist:

[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.

I.N, the Finder-Keeper of Lost Things. Self-proclaimed ruler of the City of the Forgotten. Described as having ash blond hair that falls to his neck in waves and golden yellow eyes that gleam like flames. His eyes are like a crocodile’s – with a thin transparent lid that closes across the eyes and then a humanistic eyelid that blinks down over the eye. Dressed in only fine goods – silken shirts, pristine leathered pants, shined black shoes, and thick fur coats. While he favors gold and silver, he does not wear his jewelry; he simply hoards it. As a Forgotten, he thrives on memories and can control and hear one's fondest memories, emotions, and thoughts with a simple touch. Can transform into a dragon and utilize fire-magic. The Last of the Dragon-Fae.