Two Sides Same Coin

two sides same coin

Hades 2 early access time! WOOOO!

I started drawing this just after the technical test live stream and crossed my fingers what I wrote matched lore wise. Cool thing I figured out while coloring is that Melinoe's hair is the same color as her mom's. Like same hex code. Which is sweet.

I dunno if Hypnos is actually just sleeping til' this all blows over or if he's trapped in a coma or if he's doing some heavy lifting in the dream realm, but I miss his commentary on my stupid deaths.

I'll Suffer Your Sin

A/n: Based off of this thought: “My Crime To Commit”

Summary: You shouldn’t have to become him, he won’t let it happen so, take it all out on him, he’ll be your solution if it means saving you. [Blade lets you stab him a bunch because he loves you.]

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Minor deaths, Possessive Characteristics (Blade), Major Character & Reader Injuries, Blade loves you but does not show it very good,

“Are you planning on just staring at me? Cause if you want we can talk about what happened.” Your figure is sat on a stool, leaning into the mahogany table as your hand lifts a glass onto your lips.

The lights are dimmed to the point that if anyone passed by they wouldn’t see the bodies that laid on the floor, but they were bright enough to see the numerous splatters of blood splashed around the space. Or, maybe a more accurate depiction would be dumped.

Even the man leaning next to you is colored red, but you’re the only clean thing in the room.

“No. You should rest.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did enough.”

“An attempt is enough to you?”

“Yes.”

Your fingers pinch onto your nose bridge, a sigh escaping your lips as you turn the chair to look at him.

“Why won’t you let me help you? I’m perfectly capable of killing too— ” the turn of his head is sharp, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him outside of a battle react so quickly.

“I’m not letting you commit the same sins I do.” Your eyes make contact, but your hearts don’t seem to connect at the subject. You don’t get it.

“What? Do you think i’m not capable of doing such a thing? I’m perfectly fine with doing it, is that not what you-“

His body lifts itself from leaning on the counter, walking over to one of the deceased corpses and ripping out the dagger held in their palm. He examines it quickly before wiping the blood off the handle, he does not do the same for the edge.

“Blade…? What are you doing?”

His body turns around and walks over to you, his hand taking hold of your arm, pulling you out of your seat. Not too rough, but not gentle either.

Your eyes widen for a moment as he lifts the weapon up. Is he going to…? No he wouldn’t, not to you at least. His eyes don’t fail to notice the shift in your eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh… Okay… So then what is that for?” Your eyes are attached to the sight of the weapon in front of you, but the man's vision doesn’t move away from you. He tosses the dagger up and catches it in his palm, the hilt facing towards you as his skin is sliced, his own blood seeping from the corners.

He leans into you, he's done it many times before so you have no clue why this one feels different… His lips graze your ears as his low voice whispers into it.

“You wish to murder? Then kill me.”

…

“… What…?”

His left hand grabs hold of your waist, pulling you closer. His other palm wrapping around your hands and guiding you to take hold of the weapon, hsi grip relentlessly tight as he doesn’t let go. It’s so firm you wouldn’t be able to make him let go if you tried.

“I’ll let you. If you want to kill, do away with me. Plunge this weapon into my heart as many times as you long for, it’s all yours to massacre.” He raises your grasp on the weapon high into the air, not even allowing you a chance to answer before plunging it deep into his heart. Upon impact blood begins to gush out, staining your fingers a deep red.

“Blade…! What are you—?! Yingxing—!” You fight to let his hold on you falter, but it doesn’t let up. Not even for a moment. He pulls the edge out from his heart, lifting your hands up together once more, ready to stab himself again.

“If doing this kills your urge to let yourself fall into hell, i’ll do it hundreds of times more.” You can feel him preparing himself for another blow. Your head searches for a way to stop this act. The way his left arm is pulling you in by the waist is strong, you know you can’t push him away. The same goes for the hand holding your own and the dagger together.

And so he does it again. Then again. These blows are enough to murder anyone immediately, but he still stands, so does his grasp on you, never faltering.

So you do what you can with the only free part of you.

Right when you feel his hand bringing the blade down, you place your own hand right in the spot he plans to further wound himself. Your eyes clench, fully expecting the weapon to pierce through your skin. When time came to, there was still a sharp pain on you, but it did not stab through the way you thought it would.

They scene playing out in front of him makes the familiar, unwanted, sensation of Mara bubbling up within him.

When your eyes open, the look on his face is one of his more expressive looks, eyes slightly widened. He had stopped his onslaught of blows right before he could fully stab through you, but with the speed he had thrust the dagger, he had still hit you anyway. Your eyes follow his own, looking down at your appendage.

The adrenaline must've distracted you from the pain, as when you look the wound finally starts to act up, a mixture of grunts and curses escaping your mouth from the affliction.

His immediate reaction is to set you back down on the seat you originally were sat on. It doesn't take too long for the hole in his chest to start regenerating. The way his nerves and flesh reattach is mesmerizing, but your trance is broken the moment you remember it's in fact a part of the body's bloody system, which is… kinda gross.

Your arms are now coated a deep crimson, specks of blood dripping down the sides. It is horrendously grotesque, but it's not a sight you haven't seen before. The man in front of you takes your injured hand and looks at it.

“[Name].” That is all that leaves his lips, before he unwraps the bandage on his own body and transfers it to your own. He would've given you fresh ones had he had any on hand, but he doesn't. Besides, you need them more than he does. He wraps them around your hand, in a soft manner, one unbefitting of someone with his persona.

When your vision starts to unfocus he calls out to you again. But that's all, only saying your name when you begin to gaze off in your mind. When he finishes tying your wound up he says your name one last time, this time following it up with something.

“This may have been worse than you staining your hands with another's blood.”

…?

“You said you didn't want me to kill, so that counts you too doesn't it…?”

“No. If anything, my blood is the only ones who you should touch.” Ah, now you understand. He said it a bunch of times, but you were just too dazed to realize the real meaning as he was essentially murdering himself with your own body.

Seems he’s spent most of his immortal life in pain to remember what a kind touch was. Weirdly enough, this act of self harm is both possessive and “loving”, if you could call it that.

Possessive in that, the thought of anyone else's blood on your hands, or even worse, your touch, on another person's skin, would make his mara bubble up in such a hideous way neither Kafkas spirit whisperer nor your presence could calm it down.

But kind in the aspect that he could never fathom the thought of you turning into him. Him… He hates the thought of any sufferings you could face in the future. Even though it's selfish of him to even hope for something from you, his sick affliction that Kafka would tease him for, “love”, he cant help but feel personally inclined to redirect any misfortunes that come your way to his own soul.

The lights flicker as you stare at him, being sat down made it so he would have to position himself to lean down. You’re sure that if you had been calmer you would’ve noticed his soften voice.

The feeling of his mara begins to still. His hand takes your covered hands and places it on his chest, his other appendage taking your free palm and putting it on his cheek.

The tear in his clothes from the previous assault remains, the sensation of your fingertips touching his skin making you shiver. The faint feeling of a beating heart is felt, this fact visibly upsetting the man.

“No matter how many times you murdered me, it wouldn’t have changed anything. This accursed body will rebuild itself. I don’t need it. So have it.”

“Huh…? What are you saying… Do you always have to speak so cryptically—“

“Take me, as much as you need. All of it if you have to.” The grip on your hands tightens, enough to keep you in place, but not to the point of harm— he would never.

Your hand stings a bit, a wince escaping your mouth. It makes him let go of you, as he presumes the taller position, no longer leaning down to see eye to eye at you. The still you sit on squeaks as you uncomfortably shift in it. His eyes close themself as he returns to the pose he first was from the start, leaning on the table next to you.

…

“I’ll leave the… ‘sinning’, to you than.” After this little quarrel, perhaps proving your worth is not as fulfilling as you once thought.

He doesn’t give you an answer, only replying with a deep “mm”.

“Oh? Did I interrupt something?” An all too familiar woman walks into the room, her eyes glancing all around the bloodstained room. She doesn’t even acknowledge the bodies laid on the floor, her heels clicking as she steps over them like they’re not there.

Neither of you say anything, leaving Kafka to stare and imagine what had happened. Or maybe not, she probably already knew what happened but wanted to hear one of you admit it yourself.

“Hm, fine, it doesn’t matter, Elio needs us to leave, the script says the IPC will be arriving on this planet soon.” She doesn’t waste anytime turning heel and walking out again. Typically, when it’s just her and Blade he’ll silently trail behind her, like a second shadow.

But you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into your body, waiting for you to be the one to get up and follow. Your eyes dart towards him for a second but return back to the doorway, lifting yourself up, the injuries hand you possess tingling from the movement.

It’s only when you're close to being out of view that he moves, his silent steps being quick as he immediately catches up to your fleeting form. Seems when you’re involved he’s more insistent on being your shadow than his own. His methods of becoming one with you aren’t sane, but surely enough it’s all he has to give you, so he’ll make you have it all.

———

Ever since I made that thought I had this cooking up in my drafts and I finally have it finished

I want to put them all in an enclosure and see what happens.

EDIT: more hades 2 art here and here and here and here.

can i dream for a few months more?

(i lied lol)

“When Chronos stormed your father’s House, I fled with but three things: Hypnos, because he was there; that family portrait, which pulled at my heart, and you.”

More Hades art: 1 2 3 4