#melacles

[dansnotavampire]

my favourite personality trait is that my melacles fics have gotten like 5 people into shipping Mel and Heracles. and it's because I'm an insane bisexual with a size kink and severe emotional issues

[nemaliwrites]

ok i'm way too tired to finish this tonight so take this lil snippet melacles nation 🙏🏽

Tricksy, these witches. It's easier for him; all he has to do is let his club lead. No stops along the way. Just him and the labor before him, that's all. 

They call him an animal -- but it's her, he thinks, who is more creature than human. Perhaps there isn't much difference between a goddess and an animal. Gods know Her Majesty the Queen can be rather rabid herself, though the last thing he needs is to admit that out loud and give her yet another reason to strike him down where he stands.

The witch tilts her head at nothing, like it's the sound of the wind she listens to. She crouches, brushing the tips of her fingers over the buds that grow from the stones of the city. But more than anything, it's the way she looks in the moonlight that convinces him.

Her skin shimmers; fingers tighten around the hilt of her axe, as though she gains strength from the moon. A Mare of Diomedes come back to haunt him, flesh of her keeper between her teeth. He'd nearly laughed the first time he'd seen her with that axe, dragging around a weapon larger than herself.

He doesn't laugh anymore. 

[dansnotavampire]

Hello Melacles nation I have another snippet for you. This time proving that a fight scene can be a form of eroticism, or the aftermath of Heracles confessing (by proxy) that he freed Prometheus:

She comes to Ephyra again the next night. You drop in on her, quite literally, as she thrusts a dagger through the last shambler standing. She turns to you, a flush lighting her cheeks, her chest heaving with exertion. She loses no momentum from her last strike as she pivots on a foot and dashes at you, blade raised. 

The physical force of the hit surprises you - it hurts, Hestia’s fire doing nothing to cauterise the wound. When did you last feel an injury with such pain? Hell - when did you last feel an injury? She wrenches the dagger from the meat of your pectoral, and for a brief second a river of red blood spills forth before the wound seals shut, leaving no distinguishable mark on your already-scarred chest. You - gods above, you just stare at her, don’t you? She hits you again, quick as a flash, the pain already familiar, and only then do you finally wake up. 

Moonlight glints off of something pinned to her breast as she darts away from you, from your outreaching club. You realise - it’s the fang. She’d come here to fight you, to have her vengeance for Prometheus’ freedom, to finally put you to the sword and give you exactly what you’ve always deserved for your disloyalty. You welcome it. 

You land a glancing blow on her shoulder with your club, the end of it sticking in the dirt as she shakes out her battered arm, a purple-red  bruise already blooming on her pale skin, like hyacinth petals, like the tail end of a sunset. It doesn’t heal - she doesn’t seem to care, as she flings a trio of icy daggers into the meat of you, the metal dissipating into a caress of magic, your blood spilling wet and hot from the cuts they create. It takes them a heartbeat longer to close, this time, but the skin smooths over without even a pucker by the time you reach one grasping, defensive fist towards her. A magic circle stops you in your tracks, your feet glued to the floor inside a ring of Hestia’s fire. The warmth of the hearth - another thing Hera had stolen from you. How lovely a thing to feel again now. How terrible the circumstances. 

“Sister,” you say, because you can say nothing else. “Stop. Don't make me-” 

“Don't make you what, Heracles?” she spits back, both hands still on the hilts of her daggers. You smell burning fur, feel the heat of her magic on your skin. “Betray Olympus again? Betray me?” 

The cast drops. You lunge for her. Whoever had warned her about you had been right - your hand clamps around her skinny throat, her skin smooth under your calloused fingers. Her face screws up in what looks like pain but turns out to be concentration, and a moment later she disappears from your arms and appears behind you, sinking her straight blade into the thick muscle of your trapezius. This one doesn’t heal, you realise, as you turn to put your fist through her, the blow shocking her into a minute moment of stillness. Her hair floats out around her in a moonlit cloud as she stumbles from the impact, Selene’s silver light casting the heartbroken sneer on her face in sharp relief. Blood drips from her nose, pouring lasciviously over her lips. Will it taste sweet? 

She wipes the blood away with the back of her hand, smearing red and green across her face, the same way she had under the same moon, so many nights ago. You had thought yourself mad then, to care about her so - what does that make you now, to have squandered her affection so willingly. 

She throws another frozen dagger into you, and all the compounded fire dissipates, leaving you frozen and hollow. The sudden shock of cold drops you to a knee, and you look at her from your pathetic position on the floor, dreading the final blow. You hope it’ll be warm. She sheaths her blades, instead, and simply backhands you across the face. You feel every ounce of strength that you’ve leant her in the blow, your head snapping to the side with force. She stares at you, nose still bloody, arm still bruised, mismatched eyes glowing in the light of the moon. She’s so close to you, closer than she’s ever been, maybe, no matter that you’d just been entangled with her. It shouldn’t have taken you this long to realise she was beautiful.

[dansnotavampire]

hello melacles nation. a fic

whisper in my ear now / tell me all the wrong you've done

certain truths about Heracles come to light.

[nemaliwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hades (Supergiant Games Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Heracles/Melinoë (Hades Video Game) Characters: Melinoë (Hades Video Game), Heracles (Hades Video Game) Additional Tags: Mentioned Prometheus (Hades Video Game), Fate & Destiny, Dialogue Heavy, Bitterness, Hurt/Comfort, Ambiguous Relationships Summary:

"That's the thing about labors, sister," says Heracles. "Sooner or later, you'll have to succeed. A favor that Time grants us, if unknowingly."

Wise of him. Wise in a way she didn't know he could be. All brawn and no brain, they call him. If only they knew.

--

A talk, on Mount Olympus.

[nemaliwrites]

🕯Trick or treat?🕯

(The event)

Happy Halloween! A treat for you today <3 (which is actually a treat for me bc i get to talk about my writing hehe)

An explanation of the choice behind the title for Drop One at a TIme - mostly bc i was waiting for someone to ask about it but no one did </3

Tldr: the entire piece is a comparison of Melinoë to a golden apple! I was like 'how can i say this without outright saying it yknow', so that's mainly the focus of this passage at the end:

She shines like in the moonlight, but different. Gold instead of silver. Surrounded by the sprouts she’s coaxed from the earth, he’s reminded, suddenly, of the Garden of the Hesperides. The dragon Ladon — his role, maybe. And hers: the fruit of the single tree, growing in the center. Worth holding up the entire sky for.

idk why but something about heracles specifically makes me throw in as many references to mythology as i can. a lil bit of background for those who don't know: out of the twelve labors of heracles, this one refers specifically to the eleventh.

The golden apples are in the garden of the Hesperides, nymphs who were daughters of Atlus. it was their job to safeguard the apples - along with a sleeping, hundred headed dragon named Ladon.

there are multiple versions of this myth, but the one i chose to go with is that when he arrives at the garden, heracles tricks atlus into getting the golden apples for him by promising to hold up the sky for him until he returned.

going back to the title, it comes from a different myth, the one of hippomenes and atalanta. she promises to marry anyone who can beat her in a race, but girl runs fast as hell, so hippomenes prays to aphrodite for help. she gives him three golden apples and tells him to 'drop them one at a time' in order to distract atalanta.

so that's where the title comes from! there's actually more to this comparison that i've been thinking about exploring....something about the golden apple being the thing that started the trojan war and tore everyone apart but here melinoë (another golden apple in her own right) being the one to end the war and bring everyone together......choices choices

but anyway thank you very much for the ask and for letting me ramble! <3

[dansnotavampire]

melacles nation members love to say melacles nation when referring to Two (2) people

anyway send me melacles prompts I want to write some microfiction

[nemaliwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hades (Supergiant Games Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Heracles/Melinoë (Hades Video Game) Characters: Heracles (Hades Video Game), Melinoë (Hades Video Game) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, POV Second Person, Bitterness, Magic, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Feelings Realization Summary:

A monster of a man, they call you. A danger to himself and others. It would be easier to ignore, you think, if it weren't true.

"You're liable to get hurt, then, witch," you say.

"Oh, I don't think so," she replies. "I've always been good with animals."

--

Beware the Glory of Hecate.

[dansnotavampire]

hello melacles nation :] i have another fic.

a madness entirely your own.

You have no confessions to make. No sins to admit, no apologies to give, no absolution to beg for. Would anyone absolve an axe for felling a tree? Would a chisel need absolution for marking stone? No. 

One would, maybe, absolve the hand that held it. But no hand had held you in millenia or more; perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the lion begs no forgiveness from the wildebeest. It merely eats and eats and eats, and then rotten bones feed the soil. 

So you, monster, man, somewhere in between, do not beg forgiveness from your false mother, and you do not seek absolution for your dead sons, and you leave corpses strewn in your wake across Ephyra. Something will nurture the soil, one day. However long it may be until that day comes.

Part of you prays you won’t live to see it. You're tired, aren’t you? Don't you want to rest? Every day is the same bloodied haze, every night spent under the same sleepless moon, monotony piling upon monotony until every monster in Ephyra is torn asunder, and finally your restless hands can still around something other than a throat. You do not crave violence; you crave nothing else, either. Perhaps that is the most literal phrasing of your desires - you crave nothing, the sweet blanket of oblivion that comes at the end of all mortal’s lives. 

If only you were so lucky; you had long since forgotten how to die. 

Glory calls you to the city, though, to the endless trap of it, the walls and the rubble and the long-walking corpses. Wasn’t that the choice you had made, many years ago? A life of glory, a life of hardship? 

You don't regret it. There is no room in you for regrets. The only space in your heart is quickly filled with toil, then with pain, then with toil again. An endless cycle. You work until you drop, and then you work some more, and one day you will gain enough godly favour to quiet your endless quest for praise, to stop Hera’s mouth, to finally lay your head down and quiet your stubborn mind. It is a simple life, for all your deeds. It is not a good one. 

The princess arrives in a flurry of knives and dancing footsteps. You know her - know of her. Melinoë. Daughter of the House of Hades. Saffron-robed and corn-silk blonde, arrogant and vengeful and proud as sin under the full moon’s light. Everything you had once been, no? Promised glory, full of power, brimming with promise even under the weight of expectation. It hadn’t lasted. 

You hadn’t lasted. The young man Heracles would look upon your now-immortal self with nothing more than shameful disdain. How tragic. How expected. 

You almost feel sorry for the princess, knowing her fate as surely as your own. Bones and dust, blood and sweat.

She should not be here, though, with her curse and her blood and her life ticking away with every breath she fails to take up here. You watch, impassively, as she chokes her final breath and disappears to - to wherever witches come from. She had been so alive. Nothing stays that way in Ephyra. 

[nemaliwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hades (Supergiant Games Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Heracles/Melinoë (Hades Video Game) Characters: Heracles (Hades Video Game), Melinoë (Hades Video Game) Additional Tags: Mythology References, Feelings Realization, Bitterness, POV Heracles (Hades Video Game) Summary:

He’s never seen her in the sunlight before.

[dansnotavampire]

hi heracles nation. i come bearing gifts (size kink melinoë/heracles porn)

[nemaliwrites]

i can't stop thinking about your melacles fic. you really Get Them, arararararara

AHHH thank you so much!!!! i was SO worried about the characterization of that piece ngl....every comment you left is making my heart go !!!!

i also have your melacles fics on my tbr list! SUPER excited to get to them hehe

we are doing god's work populating the melacles tag....here's to a hundred more fics from the both of us <333