MEL'AMORE: Sub Mel Week 🎀

A graphic featuring a handwritten letter, a yellow envelope, and a black rose. The letter reads: My dearest Mel Medarda, My golden rose. I know you must be hungry. Am I the one that aroused this twisting in your stomach? You decide. You’re welcome to lie to yourself, if you’d like. That ache you feel, that gnawing need, can be but a hushed whisper between you and I. I’m already intimately acquainted with your deepest, darkest secrets, as you’re well aware. You can’t hide what I already know… and I do make it my business to know absolutely everything. I can’t help but notice how beautifully your new outfit suits you. You seem very comfortable, almost content with my design. Don’t play dumb, Mel. Those are my thorns around your waist, are they not? That’s my touch cupping chest, my hand sliding up your thigh. How does it feel, when you move and you feel the faintest memory of me holding you tight? That’s my breath, but a hair’s width from your lips, haunting your most sordid dreams. Your heart must be pounding as you read this. Perhaps your pretty lips have parted for me again. I think you’re nearly panting. It’s alright, little rose. I love to see you like this. You’re already anticipating me, Mel. The gold that shields your skin must feel terribly tight, like someone has to touch you or you’ll shatter. I think you want to be firmly held together. You’re still here, aren’t you? You’ve made it this far, and you’re too stubborn to stop now. You can never walk away. And you won’t. I’m already all you think about, your most beloved enemy, your guiltiest pleasure. Why not lay down as you finish my letter? Fall back into your warm, soft bed, shivering as your sheets brush your bare skin. I didn’t have to tell you to undress, now did I? You already knew. You wanted to. We work so well together, you, wanting, and I. Slide your elegant hand down your stomach. Just like that. You may go lower. You may dip your hand between your legs. Imagine, as you often do, my body

A plain text version of LeBlanc's letter to Mel: My dearest Mel Medarda, My golden rose. I know you must be hungry. Am I the one that aroused this twisting in your stomach? You decide. You’re welcome to lie to yourself, if you’d like. That ache you feel, that gnawing need, can be but a hushed whisper between you and I. I’m already intimately acquainted with your deepest, darkest secrets, as you’re well aware. You can’t hide what I already know… and I do make it my business to know absolutely everything. I can’t help but notice how beautifully your new outfit suits you. You seem very comfortable, almost content with my design. Don’t play dumb, Mel. Those are my thorns around your waist, are they not? That’s my touch cupping chest, my hand sliding up your thigh. How does it feel, when you move and you feel the faintest memory of me holding you tight? That’s my breath, but a hair’s width from your lips, haunting your most sordid dreams. Your heart must be pounding as you read this. Perhaps your pretty lips have parted for me again. I think you’re nearly panting. It’s alright, little rose. I love to see you like this. You’re already anticipating me, Mel. The gold that shields your skin must feel terribly tight, like someone has to touch you or you’ll shatter. I think you want to be firmly held together. You’re still here, aren’t you? You’ve made it this far, and you’re too stubborn to stop now. You can never walk away. And you won’t. I’m already all you think about, your most beloved enemy, your guiltiest pleasure. Why not lay down as you finish my letter? Fall back into your warm, soft bed, shivering as your sheets brush your bare skin. I didn’t have to tell you to undress, now did I? You already knew. You wanted to. We work so well together, you, wanting, and I. Slide your elegant hand down your stomach. Just like that. You may go lower. You may dip your hand between your legs. Imagine, as you often do, my body over yours. Of course I know. I always know.

💌 LOVE LETTER #14 💌

Don't be deceived, past the smoke and mirrors, you're sure to find the true meaning of pleasure.

Are you brave enough to face it?

- xoxo 💛✨ #submelweek ෆ #goldenthorn #goldenrose #melblanc

This letter is everything to a gangster like me 🥹

Stella Aurea is a SFW, for-charity fanzine that seeks to celebrate the life and legacy of Runeterra's brightest star, Mel Medarda! Pre-orders for the zine will be ending in a week on February 10th. The image depicts gold detailing similar to Mel Medarda's tattoos and sigils. The detailing and logo also blends design elements of her magic while also having a warm golden hue to invoke the feeling of the sun. Our merch spotlight showcases an acrylic charm of Mel Medarda. Inspired by the coquette fashion aesthetic, Mel is dressed in an ankle-length yellow dress with a white, frilly trim at the hem. She has on matching yellow flats. Her hair is shown in a bun with a few braids with beads framing her face. Mel is painting, a pleasant field drawn on the canvas, as she sits on a patch of grass. She smiles while holding a paintbrush as butterflies surround her and the painting.

✨ 1 WEEK UNTIL PREORDERS CLOSE! 💫

Carry the gentle warmth of spring with this coquette-inspired acrylic charm by @camipoopedart.bsky.social! 🌟

Pre-orders close on Feb. 10 so don't delay in getting your order in! 💛

💫 melmedardazine.company.site

Jayce, my man.....

#HappyBirthdayMel
what can i say, i adore her so so much and drawing her is always lovely. prepare for many mels from me (hopefully soon)!!

A graphic featuring a handwritten letter, a hand drawn portrait of Mel Medarda, and a red envelop sitting on a table.

Mel, I have stopped pretending this separation is merely inconvenient. It has sharpened everything. Desire behaves like that when denied structure. It stops being polite. It starts paying attention. I think of you constantly. Not in the grand ways that would flatter either of us, but in the small, dangerous ones. The memory of how you look when you have already decided something and are waiting for the world to catch up. The way your breath changes when you know you’re being watched by someone who understands you too well to be fooled. You never look away first. You allow the moment to stretch until it becomes something else entirely. I miss provoking that look. You are very good at composure. Everyone knows that. What they do not see is how deliberate your restraint is. How you choose stillness. How you enjoy it when I notice the tension you keep leashed beneath silk and gold. You have always trusted me with that knowledge. With you, trust feels like permission. I replay nights when work blurred into something slower, heavier. When conversation gave way to silence thick enough to feel. When you would let me stand too close, close enough to forget that we were being careful, close enough to remind me that patience is not the same as absence. You never told me to stop. You never had to. You let me guide you with nothing more than a glance and let me shift your body, and you followed. Sometimes happily, other times with a pout. Be careful with yourself while I am gone. Or don’t. I admit the thought of you commanding a room all day, perfectly controlled, only to let that control loosen when you are finally alone…it keeps me awake longer than it should. I like knowing that I am the one thought you allow to linger without restraint. When I return, I will not ask how you endured the distance. I will assume you did exactly as we agreed on. I will remind you, gently and thoroughly, that distance has never weakened my claim. It has only made me more attentive.

💌 LOVE LETTER #13 💌

Nothing feels impossible for these two, will you partake?

Don't miss the heated reunion...

- xoxo 🧡✨ #submelweek ෆ #meljay

Order your copy of the Mel zine ✨ TODAY ✨ before our store closes on Feb. 10th! Post-production proceeds go to @/BGDSTEM!

You don't want to disappoint polygon Mel, do you? 😉

🌟 melmedardazine.company.site

🦾✨ #melvika #arcane up on patr🌜eon.
Piece for the upcoming @submelweek.bsky.social ! Check out the prompts! 😋

A graphic of a handwritten letter, instant photo, and an envelope sitting upon a counter covered by a red floral print. The letter reads: Hey Honeybuns, I saw you last night, hiding in the crowd before my match again. You’re better at it then most Pilties that sneak down here but I can always spot a topsider from a mile away. That’s just how things are when you come from the Lanes. Hell, I even saw the way you cheered when I knocked out that last guy. Turned you on, didn’t it? So what’s it gonna be buns? Cause right now I’m sore as hell, in need of a hot bath, and a good fucking drink - and not that Pisstover alchohol they drink up top. You’re probably tensed up from all that bureaucratic Council bullshit so lets help each other relax again. My tongue’s been missing the taste of you too. -Vi P.S. Wear one of those fancy lingerie sets I like. I know you like it when I rip ‘em off.

A plain text version of Vi's letter to Mel: Hey Honeybuns, I saw you last night, hiding in the crowd before my match again. You’re better at it then most Pilties that sneak down here but I can always spot a topsider from a mile away. That’s just how things are when you come from the Lanes. Hell, I even saw the way you cheered when I knocked out that last guy. Turned you on, didn’t it? So what’s it gonna be buns? Cause right now I’m sore as hell, in need of a hot bath, and a good fucking drink - and not that Pisstover alchohol they drink up top. You’re probably tensed up from all that bureaucratic Council bullshit so lets help each other relax again. My tongue’s been missing the taste of you too. -Vi P.S. Wear one of those fancy lingerie sets I like. I know you like it when I rip ‘em off.

💌 LOVE LETTER #12 💌

There's only one thing sweeter than victory, and the reigning pit fighter champ seems hell bent on getting another taste.

Don't let something good pass you by, make sure you're ready for the event of a lifetime.

- xoxo ❤️✨ #submelweek ෆ #melvi

Celebrate Black History Month by pre-ordering the Mel zine! Lets hit that Gold Rush! 😉✨

👁️👁️

🤫

A letter, envelope, and pressed flowers sitting on a counter. The letter reads: My Dearest Rose, Forgive me for being unable to say these things to you aloud. You make me nervous in a way I am wholly unused to and I fear I would stutter though even the most practiced of speeches. I am unsure how to begin. You might laugh and say something witty here, if we were face to face when you read this. Something full of sarcastic flirtations like “I’ve never known you to not know something”. You would smirk, and maybe wink, and it would leave me speechless. Many things that I am not used to now leave me speechless. I find myself distracted, wholly and irrefutably. It is as maddening as it is joyous. I suppose I am stalling, something I am certain you will have figured out by now. I will cease beating around the bush now. Mel, I love you. It was an unexpected thing, to come to this conclusion. But regardless of how many variables I tested to determine why my cheeks run aflush and my heart and speech seem to stutter in tandem when you are near, they always brought me to the same conclusion. I am in love with you. I love the way you smile whenever you solve a particularly challenging puzzle. I love the way your eyes seem to capture the stars and hold them there. I love the way you brush your hand along my arm when you need my attention. My heart burns so fiercely for you that I can scarcely put it into words. Rosebud, you have taken root in my chest. Your scent is overwhelming, and yet I would rather suffocate on it than live another day without it. Your skin is softer than silk, and I could spend centuries feasting on the expanse of it. You glow like the sunrise, bright and beautiful. If I could bottle the sound of your laughter and drink it, I think I could live a hundred lifetimes. And I would choose to live them all with you. I could go on but I am unfortunately losing light by which to write this. I love you Mel. I hope you love me too. -Forever yours, Viktor

A plain text version of Viktor's letter to Mel that reads: My Dearest Rose, Forgive me for being unable to say these things to you aloud. You make me nervous in a way I am wholly unused to and I fear I would stutter though even the most practiced of speeches. I am unsure how to begin. You might laugh and say something witty here, if we were face to face when you read this. Something full of sarcastic flirtations like “I’ve never known you to not know something”. You would smirk, and maybe wink, and it would leave me speechless. Many things that I am not used to now leave me speechless. I find myself distracted, wholly and irrefutably. It is as maddening as it is joyous. I suppose I am stalling, something I am certain you will have figured out by now. I will cease beating around the bush now. Mel, I love you. It was an unexpected thing, to come to this conclusion. But regardless of how many variables I tested to determine why my cheeks run aflush and my heart and speech seem to stutter in tandem when you are near, they always brought me to the same conclusion. I am in love with you. I love the way you smile whenever you solve a particularly challenging puzzle. I love the way your eyes seem to capture the stars and hold them there. I love the way you brush your hand along my arm when you need my attention. My heart burns so fiercely for you that I can scarcely put it into words. Rosebud, you have taken root in my chest. Your scent is overwhelming, and yet I would rather suffocate on it than live another day without it. Your skin is softer than silk, and I could spend centuries feasting on the expanse of it. You glow like the sunrise, bright and beautiful. If I could bottle the sound of your laughter and drink it, I think I could live a hundred lifetimes. And I would choose to live them all with you. I could go on but I am unfortunately losing light by which to write this. I love you Mel. I hope you love me too. -Forever yours, Viktor

💌 LOVE LETTER #11 💌

Love has taken root, let's see what blooms...

Stop and smell the roses, don't miss out on your chance to show your appreciation for our favourite Noxian flower.

- xoxo 💜✨ #submelweek ෆ #melvik

#melvik #arcane
comm illustration for the melvik fic Marginalia, To My Beloved :))

A letter from a renown Ionian painter and heir to Temple of Koyehn, addressed to Mel Medarda. Inscribed on rich parchment with a pale oriental border, each word etched in beautiful calligraphy. Accompanying this letter, two delicately wrapped paintings.

My kindred soul, In my dreams, where the veil is at its thinnest, I reach for you, to caress you in the way my soul desires. I lose myself in the flame of your eyes and remember once again how you are magic, one of the only beings capable of setting me alight. Always with desire. Mel, you once told me: “Your passion outshines the pain”. I felt most acutely our connection then, and since that fated meeting, your words have taken root in the barren land of my heart. I have begun to believe them. That you should see me with such clarity that not even I possess…. that you did not look away remains with me even now. I am convinced you are the redemption that I seek, Mel, the light I search for within this unending darkness. If I do not spend each moment with you in my thoughts, oh Mel, my muse, am I whole? Each night, I look for you in my dreams. Each day, I strive to capture your beauty from memory, and yet I find it a struggle to do you justice. Human skill cannot capture your beauty, your grace. For you are magic itself, the living and breathing embodiment of it. I find myself a moth before the brilliance of your soul, the pure warmth of your heart. Mel, I long to feel your skin against mine. To see you with the clarity that you have seen me. To unwrap you would be my greatest honor, and the memory of your skin, your sighs, your moans, my deepest held treasure. In my mind’s eye, we paint together and our magic moves as one. Oh, that my love might be the paint, and your body my canvas, you the arcane's masterpiece. I desire to lose myself in you, and that you might lose yourself in pleasure intricately wrought about by the work of my fingers, my mouth, my body an instrument for your pleasure. The colors you bring into my life are rivaled only by the brilliance of light itself. Would that I could capture you the way I see you, that I might translate the intensity of my feelings for you. I find that words fail me in a way my brush does not.

💌 LOVE LETTER #10 💌

What a way with words, poetry really is the language of love... can't wait to see what art they make together 🤭

- xoxo ❤️✨ #submelweek ෆ #visionarysoul #melhwei

Image shows Mel Medarda and Viktor from Arcane. Viktor is in a heavily mutated human form to the point where his face is a flat mask with two glowing eyes. Mel is dark skinned with long black braids and is covered in golden tattoos.

Well…my prev post was too suggestive so here’s my OTHER Melvik art! This one’s old but it’s also one of my wallpapers :’) #melvik #arcane #melmedarda #machineherald

Mel gets teased at the annual gala and goes to take control.

archiveofourown.org/works/777445...

#subMelweek #agonysembrace
#melmedarda #wlw

🤭

Reworking the Princess/Knight fic ⚔️ #submelweek #submelweekWIP #melmedarda #jaycetalis #meljay

😍😍😍

Mostly just getting the models ready 🥴🫣

I may have to use some stand ins because I could only finish 3 (Mel, Jayce and REDACTED) of the ones I wanted to use so please bear with me lol

#submelweekWIP

Doors open to Hotel Mel'Amore in ten days and our princess can barely contain her excitement. We'd like to extend an invitation to share what you've been working on 🫣

Tease your upcoming gifts with #submelweek #WIPwednesday #submelweekWIP 💘 Don't leave Her waiting...

- xoxo 💋

A graphic of a handwritten letter sitting on a table next to an envelope and a white flower. The letter reads: Watashi no ōkami, It has been over a moon’s turn since I last heard from you. If I was a weaker man, I would be fearful of having lost your interest…yet we both know the truth: you could never be bored of me. Isn’t that right, my sweet wolf? I know your blood pumps with the same excitement a hunter has when stalking its prey. You are breathless even now, your heart quickening as you hold onto every word of this very letter. How do I know? Because my heart beats just as swiftly in anticipation for you. I thought killing would give me no greater thrill in life…at least until I had my first taste of you. I’ve waited as you asked but I have grown impatient in my desire to feel you close to me. Those Noxian dullards have had you wrapped in their affairs for too long so when the moon is next at its fullest, we shall meet again at the hot springs you favored last time. I am quite eager to hear you howl for me just as loudly as then too. Do manage to keep alive until then. Kayn

A plain text version of Kayn's letter to Mel: Watashi no ōkami, It has been over a moon’s turn since I last heard from you. If I was a weaker man, I would be fearful of having lost your interest…yet we both know the truth: you could never be bored of me. Isn’t that right, my sweet wolf? I know your blood pumps with the same excitement a hunter has when stalking its prey. You are breathless even now, your heart quickening as you hold onto every word of this very letter. How do I know? Because my heart beats just as swiftly in anticipation for you. I thought killing would give me no greater thrill in life…at least until I had my first taste of you. I’ve waited as you asked but I have grown impatient in my desire to feel you close to me. Those Noxian dullards have had you wrapped in their affairs for too long so when the moon is next at its fullest, we shall meet again at the hot springs you favored last time. I am quite eager to hear you howl for me just as loudly as then too. Do manage to keep alive until then. Kayn

💌 LOVE LETTER #9 💌

Nothing like some adrenaline to get the heart going...

What's a little blood lust between friends?

- xoxo ❤️✨ #submelweek ෆ #melkayn

Manifesting musicverse Mel #kayn #leagueoflegends #melmedarda

😘💝

A handwritten letter sitting next to a box of cigars on a table. The letter is from Sevika to Mel and says the following: Mel, I never had much talent for letters. I prefer things I can see finished—deals struck, walls raised, damage repaired. Still, tonight the words wouldn’t stay quiet. Since you left for Noxus, I’ve done what I said I would—kept my head up, my voice steady, and tried to keep my temper leashed. It hasn’t been easy. You know better than anyone how Piltover listens: selectively, and only when it suits them. I've thrown myself into it, pushing through the endless meetings and the posturing from those soft-handed idealists. They're listening more than I expected—your influence still lingers heavy on them. We've started redirecting resources to Zaun. Shipments of steel, chem-tech for the undercity's fractured pipes, and crews to mend the bridges that collapsed in the uprising. It's slow, but it's real progress. The fissures between our worlds are patching up, one bolt at a time. But what I didn’t expect was how empty these victories would feel without you. I miss you, Mel. More than I should probably admit. Those nights we stole away, your skin against mine in the dim light of my quarters, the way your breath hitched when I pulled you close— There's not a day I don't crave for it. Come back soon, my sunlight, or I'll cross the ocean myself to get near you. Yours truly, Sevika.

Mel, I never had much talent for letters. I prefer things I can see finished—deals struck, walls raised, damage repaired. Still, tonight the words wouldn’t stay quiet. Since you left for Noxus, I’ve done what I said I would—kept my head up, my voice steady, and tried to keep my temper leashed. It hasn’t been easy. You know better than anyone how Piltover listens: selectively, and only when it suits them. I've thrown myself into it, pushing through the endless meetings and the posturing from those soft-handed idealists. They're listening more than I expected—your influence still lingers heavy on them. We've started redirecting resources to Zaun. Shipments of steel, chem-tech for the undercity's fractured pipes, and crews to mend the bridges that collapsed in the uprising. It's slow, but it's real progress. The fissures between our worlds are patching up, one bolt at a time. But what I didn’t expect was how empty these victories would feel without you. I miss you, Mel. More than I should probably admit. Those nights we stole away, your skin against mine in the dim light of my quarters, the way your breath hitched when I pulled you close— There's not a day I don't crave for it. Come back soon, my sunlight, or I'll cross the ocean myself to get near you. Yours truly, Sevika.

💌 LOVE LETTER #8 💌

Relations between Noxus and Zaun are heating up.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, but these two deserve a little extra one-on-one time.

- xoxo 💜✨ #submelweek ෆ #melvika

Okay ignore the misspelling i made 1 second ago. Oh MELRIUS my beloved

Them! 🌟
#melvika #melmedarda #sevika

🥰💘

The handwriting is scratched and crude, as if the hands have to remember how to form the letters. The parchment is crumpled, worn at the edges, as if its writer has kept hold of it for a long while. The letter reads as follows: I ask that you forgive my cowardice in writing to you, rather than speaking. It makes my skin crawl that I cannot say what I wish, and that I must resort to parchment in matters of the heart. I do not bother with those I find weak. Word spread that the Medarda daughter was weak, resulting in exile. In the age of the Trifarix, General Swain often drones about the philosophies of strength, and I find myself tuning out mere seconds into the monologue. Yet upon meeting you – I myself found myself wondering what strength is. If you are weak, after besting your own mother in combat and controlling the very Arcane at your fingertips, then I do not know what the word means. And how dare I claim strength, when I cannot so much as tell you as such to your face? I claim no answers to these hypocrises. Instead, I wish to crush them underneath my heel. Mel Medarda – I have come to admire you. But I cannot claim it innocent – not in the way I still remember the slightest brush of your hand against my arm, or the scent of citrus as you passed me by. It confounds me, how such feelings can make me feel so ravenous, yet so juvenile? I almost slapped myself silly after I felt my heart ‘skip a beat’ – but I did not. Because it is a warm feeling, even when ravenous, even when juvenile. There is a small tavern just outside Drekan. Should you meet me there tomorrow night, I shall take responsibility for my desires, and express them to you as honorably as I am capable. Should you not – this will never be spoken of. Selfishly, I pray for an answer from your lips, whatever it may be. Darius

The handwriting is scratched and crude, as if the hands have to remember how to form the letters. The parchment is crumpled, worn at the edges, as if its writer has kept hold of it for a long while. The letter reads as follows: I ask that you forgive my cowardice in writing to you, rather than speaking. It makes my skin crawl that I cannot say what I wish, and that I must resort to parchment in matters of the heart. I do not bother with those I find weak. Word spread that the Medarda daughter was weak, resulting in exile. In the age of the Trifarix, General Swain often drones about the philosophies of strength, and I find myself tuning out mere seconds into the monologue. Yet upon meeting you – I myself found myself wondering what strength is. If you are weak, after besting your own mother in combat and controlling the very Arcane at your fingertips, then I do not know what the word means. And how dare I claim strength, when I cannot so much as tell you as such to your face? I claim no answers to these hypocrises. Instead, I wish to crush them underneath my heel. Mel Medarda – I have come to admire you. But I cannot claim it innocent – not in the way I still remember the slightest brush of your hand against my arm, or the scent of citrus as you passed me by. It confounds me, how such feelings can make me feel so ravenous, yet so juvenile? I almost slapped myself silly after I felt my heart ‘skip a beat’ – but I did not. Because it is a warm feeling, even when ravenous, even when juvenile. There is a small tavern just outside Drekan. Should you meet me there tomorrow night, I shall take responsibility for my desires, and express them to you as honorably as I am capable. Should you not – this will never be spoken of. Selfishly, I pray for an answer from your lips, whatever it may be. Darius

💌 LOVE LETTER #7 💌

What's this? Another admirer? My, our princess seems to be quite popular! Who's vying for her attention this time?

Well well, it looks like Noxus will be happy to have dear Mel back…

- xoxo ❤️✨ #submelweek ෆ #melrius