#olethros

[galacii-gallery]

Happy Pride Month!!!

Here’s some of the characters from the Shattered Fates AU in Pride Scarfs ^^

[little-eye-guy]

i wanted to draw more icons so here's knox, gregori, and olethros

[nekomata-yarn-collector]

Some take advantage of the dangers of the Forest.

Some, know that others will pay handsomely for protection from its energies.

Others warn not to trust the mercenaries - they're only as loyal as the coin can pay, after all...

But no one can deny that they're good at what they do.

Gawain [he/him] and Olethros [they/he], mercenary partners.

[kittynannygaming]

Dream & Hob’s meetings as seen by the Endless and themselves.

AO3

No one, not even Destiny of the Endless (and by all Gods, don’t let his Monk-like clothing style fool you, he pouts and sulks as good as his siblings, particularly Dream and Desire) could have predicted what this day would bring.

June the 7th 1389

It began with Death’s bet.

Hob Gadling was so sunny, warm and positive. Perfect for her little moon of a brother. Dream was really like the moon and not only because of his function or because he was the one who looked the most like their mother.

Dream had two sides (not only Dream & Nightmare but also the stoic middle child, trying to be as dutiful as his elder siblings, to seem unbothered by anything, and the scared little child, who loved more than anyone and want to be loved as much in return) like the two faces of the moon: the one he showed the world and the one hidden. No middle ground. No equilibrium. No balance between one and the other.

That’s why Death had chosen Hob Gadling. He would, with time - because her baby brother is a slow learner -, bring balance to Dream’s moody personality.

“Are you gonna tell him, or should I ?”

“I shall.”

“Very well, little brother.” She watched him going to Hob and talk to the now immortal human. “Very well.”

She smiled, knowing that Hob wouldn’t want to die anytime soon, if ever. Her baby brother was going to be stuck with an obstinate puppy and would be unable to do anything about it… Life was good. When walking to her next appointment, she whispered to herself,

“This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

June the 7th 1489

It continued with Destiny’s day off.

Yes, he took days off. Sometimes. Once in a while. OK, he was curious about the human his sister gifted their baby brother, sue him. He was at the table behind his little brother, listening to everything the two of them were saying. Well, mostly the mortal, Hob Gadling. Gaining answers from Dream was harder than making a rock bleed.

It seemed that Dream didn’t tell him anything about who he was. Destiny wasn’t surprised. Firstly because the title of Endless meant nothing to humanity. Secondly because his brother had a dramatic flare and loved being mysterious. He knew his brother was having fun right now. He could almost feel his starshine brother giggling inside.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here because I’m interested.”

“In me?” There was the disbelief. Destiny was happy to hear that Hob wasn’t completely naive.

“In your experience.” The eldest of the Endless siblings was also having fun. There was an innuendo in this conversation that could lead to something more. If his brother decided to act on it. Which was highly unlikely. Maybe they just needed time.

“All right. I’ll tell you what it’s like.” Ah! His brother was very interested in what the human had to say. He could feel the anticipation within his brother. “That’s fucking brilliant.”

Destiny wanted to laugh. His baby brother was astonished. Hob continued to talked about chimneys and handkerchiefs and his brother probably thought Hob had lost it. He really liked the man that his sister had chosen. Ah! They were talking about the printing press now. That would bring a good mood to his sibling.

“So you still want to live?”

“Oh, yes.”

“A hundred years, then?”

“Oh, yes.” Yes. There was a probability for romance. “You never told me who you are.”

Mysterious benefactor, indeed. Destiny finished his meal and was happy that he hadn’t looked at Hob and Dream’s story.

“It’s going to be wonderful or a disaster or a wonderful disaster.”

June the 7th 1589

It kept going with Delight’s curiosity.

As the youngest one, it was her duty to make sure her elders siblings didn’t do anything foolish. Grown-ups were silly like that. She was one of the waitresses who worked at the White Horse, at least for the night. As a bonus for her brother, there were two writers here tonight.

For what she saw before her brother’s arrival, Hob seemed nice enough. A little bit full of himself, but he was apparently low born and had just made his first step into the nobility. She wasn’t sure how her brother was going to react to that. Of course, as the King of the Dreaming, he was used to the protocol but she wasn’t sure it was what he was looking for with this centennial meeting.

Hob boasted about his title, his family and the Queen’s visit. Delight was feeling sorry for him. Even she knew that Dream wasn’t very keen on braggarts. She knew he tried to show her big brother that he could do something with his life, that he could be more than the mercenary he met in 1389. Unfortunately, her brother sucked at reading the room. At least this one.

He didn’t see the food as a way to show care (did he even know that in Hob’s family, when someone had luck, they shared with the family, be it food or money?). He didn’t see the title for Hob’s wish to be better for himself but also for Dream (that was why he learnt how to read and write, Hob saw the interest when he talked about the printing business). He didn’t see the family that Hob had made as the need for companionship shared by every being in this universe (a need her brother denied with passion but was maybe bigger than the human’s one).

Hob was clearly infatuated with her brother. If not romantically yet, at least in a friendly manner. Her poor brother didn’t know what to do with this gentle little push. He was all love-at-first-sight and torrid love affairs. Something this quiet, almost reverent, was an unknown. That’s why he left with Will. Breaking the heart of poor Hob, who was both in denial and angry.

“This is going to drive me mad, I just know it.”

June the 7th 1689

It could have stopped with Despair’s approval.

Hob had been an almost full subject of her realm for the last 80 years. She already approved of Hob in her big brother’s life. Someone who can be in such despair and still get going was worthy in her eyes.

She was near the chimney, enjoying a drink, when her dear Hob entered the White Horse with a commotion. Her poor little Hob, dressed in rags, dirty, unkempt! She liked him so! Her biggest sister had made a very wise choice indeed!

“Do you know how hungry a man can get? If he doesn’t die but he doesn’t eat?” Sweet, sweet Hob. Her brother was obviously worried about his date. He should have kept a better eye on him, then. Maybe this was the wake-up call that he needed? Despair hoped so. There was so much potential for angst and despair and misunderstanding with these two. An eternity of ups and downs. Such a bliss!

“So do you still wish to live?” Oh! Do you still wish to live, big brother? After Orpheus? After Calliope? After all that happened?

“Are you crazy? Death is a mug’s game. I got so much to live for.” Ah! There is Hob’s hope. And also, apparently, her brother’s hope. She knew her time with Hob would come to an end. That once he met with Dream, he could only get better. She hadn’t thought he would be a reason for Dream to begin to hope though. That was interesting.

The rest of the night was spent with drinks and meals and Dream paying for a room for his date. One month. He was generous. But Hob would be able to stand on his own two feet soon enough. He was resourceful like that. She rose, walking toward the exit.

“This was fun while it lasted.”

June the 7th 1789

It almost came to a conclusion with Desire’s enjoyment.

Their dear twin was at the last date between her brother and the immortal. It was their turn now. Desire, unlike their siblings, decided against making an appearance. They remained invisible and as much concealed as they could. Their brother had a way to find them, no matter what.

Hob was quite handsome and they wouldn’t mind having a little fling with him. But alas! He was off limits. They would never hear the end of it if that happened. Not worth it. But Desire had the time of their life. These two idiots were flirting so hard! They didn’t even have to do anything. The sexual tension was like ambrosia to Desire and they were giggling like a kid!

Obviously, something had to happen! They wanted to curse this damn Constantine and her thugs. But Hob did a wonderful job of the thugs. Desire licked their lips, completely and utterly entranced. Why was he their brother’s??? He would have been a perfect fit to Desire’s realm!

Unfair!! Then Dream took care of Constantine. Giving credit where credit was due, their brother knew how to take care of his enemies. Making her see all she did wrong, all the ghosts who haunted her, was a stroke of machavellian genius. It was one of their favorite traits of character of their brother.

“You need not have come to my defense.” Big brother, can’t you just thank him?

“Clearly. Still, I didn’t want to drink alone here in 100 years’ time” Oh! Hob was pinching his ear. Was he shy? Desire cooed. They were going to have sex. No way they were not going to have sex, not with all this unresolved (for now) sexual tension. Their brother was going to get laid! Yeah!

That was why Desire was gobsmacked when they part ways. Fortunately, no one was there to see them with their mouth wide opened. This wasn’t supposed to happen! They were supposed to be naughty!

“This is unbelievable! You were eye-fucking each other for fuck’s sake!”

June the 7th 1889

It took a turn for the worse with Destruction’s irritation.

Destruction loved his family. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that they didn’t know what the word ‘balance’ meant. Probably Death and maybe Destiny. That’s why he was there today, currently under the guise of an old man with an impressive moustache. He was pretty proud of it.

He could feel that Hob was a good man, still learning but learning faster than any of them. Endless were slow to change, slow to learn. They were talking about Louise and he decided to help the poor girl once the meeting was over (Hob beat him to it).

And then Hob said something totally true but that his brother wasn’t ready to hear. That he was lonely. It was sad really because Dream built walls to protect himself when all he ever wanted was someone to love him as much as he love them. Destruction was sure Hob could be it.

But his brother acted like a diva and needed to make an exit.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll be here in 100 years’ time. If you’re here then too, it will be because we’re friends. No other reason, right?”

Hob got back inside, talked to Lou and took the clothes his brother left in his hurry. Destruction sighed. This was now or never.

“This is it. I quit.”

June the 7th 1989

It was an end and a beginning with Hob’s determination.

His arrival to the White Horse in his new car was greeted by rain. The last meeting ended with it, it was almost poetic that the new one began with it. Fortunately, it wasn’t the downpour of 1889. But still. It was annoying.

He’d had 100 years to see that he could have spoken with more tact, more diplomacy. Of course, no one, not even whatever his friend was, liked to be reminded of their loneliness. He stumbled like a fawn making his first steps and they ended up fighting.

He was such an idiot. He waited all day but the more the time passed, the more he grew restless. Was his friend skipping their meeting? Was he still mad? Night began and he ended up at the bar, talking with the barman. And that when his world ended, again. The White Horse was closing. Forever.

It couldn’t be! Was this a sign that his Stranger wasn’t coming back ever? NO! Hob refused to believe it! Like the bartender said, friends fought and friends reconciled. He needed to believe in their friendship. He was a little drunk when he talked about his project to the barman, Ian. He would try to save the White Horse and if he couldn’t, he would make sure to have another place to meet his friend.

Ian told him to come back if he was really serious. Running a pub/inn/tavern wasn’t easy and maybe he could learn a thing or two. You were never too old to learn. Hmmm… Never too old to learn… Maybe he could go to University next? Going back to his car, he couldn’t help thinking to himself,

“He’s such a dramatic diva. I love him.”

June the 7th 2021

It was a beginning and an end with Dream’s freedom.

Dream got out of his prison on the 25 th of May. With everything that had happened, it was now the 7 th of June of the year 2021. He wanted to see Hob but was not sure if he was welcome. So he was feeding the pigeons, in a park not far away from The White Horse.

His sister found him, of course. She always found him. And admonished him! He didn’t do anything! And that was apparently the problem. Finally taking his sister’s advice, he walked until he reached The White Horse and he almost cried. The tavern was closed and in such a state!

His memory brought him back to his meetings with Hob. Was it too late? Was it the end of his friendship with Hob? (It couldn’t be, it just began!) That was when he saw the red paint. The arrows indicated the direction of The New Inn. Was this Hob’s work? Was it their new meeting place? He needed to know.

The New Inn was a charming little pub and when he entered it, he could immediately feel Hob’s presence. He walked to Hob’s table, noting the fact that he was grading papers. Was he a teacher now? And as soon as he saw him, Hob smiled. It was such a relief!

“You’re late,” was all that he said, and it was barely a complaint.

“It seems I owe you an apology. I’ve always heard it’s impolite to keep one’s friends waiting.” Hob’s smile got bigger. He sat and Hob began to talk, a little awkwardly at first. But for Dream, it was the beginning of a new era and the end of his self-imposed solitary confinement. He looked at Hob and thought

“He’s such a handsome himbo. I love him.”

It so happened that Dream would have chosen a path of sorrow and death. But that was not the path that came about. You see, Hob had this amazing feature that when he was around, Destiny’s book was… blurry. According to his book, Dream should have died.

But he didn’t.

In an inexplicable manner, he decided to confide his torments to Hob, instead of keeping them to himself. And it changed everything. Orpheus still died, but by Hob’s hand. Dream survived, the Dreaming wasn’t almost destroyed (again) and Daniel lived a long, long human life before becoming the new Dream.

What happened to Morpheus, the old Dream? He became a powerful immortal and lived happily ever after with his husband, the immortal human Robert ‘Hob’ Gadling. They still have their centennial meetings at the New Inn, now both of them talking about their life with Dream|Daniel.

Without the weight of his function, Morpheus is more open, more carefree. And as a thank you, the Endless give Hob and Morpheus a little something every 7 th of June.

The End

[belovedrat]

Okay ik I’ve made a post like this before BUT I shall do it again once more TwT

ANYWAYS :3

A description of my goober Olethros!

And all the arts done from friends and folks! All credits to them 🤍

Non-graphic ones first !

And now graphic ones under the cut !

@star-dust-shark :3 here’s the refs 🕸️🦷

[snamioneasks]

Hi, are there any fics where Snape and Hermione are both professors at hogwarts after the war. Or fics where snape is a known spy during the wars and him and Hermione have to work together? TIA

fics where snape is a known spy during the wars and him and Hermione have to work together

There are several - I actually love this trope! There is a subset of them that rewrite the last two or three books. I have listed the ones I know in these two posts: here and here.

Other fics that have them working together, but don't necessarily rewrite the books:

Memento Amori by Olethros - M, 17 chapters - COMPLETE. SSHG. A vicious attack leaves Hermione Granger unable to form new memories. Now she and Severus Snape must work together on a weapon that could destroy Voldemort. Yet how can she trust him when her past is unknown and her present uncertain?

Before the Dawn by snarkyroxy - M, 49 chapters - In her seventh year, a latenight discovery changes Hermione Granger’s view on a great many things. Severus Snape is just one of them. Complete.

The Problem with Purity by Phoenix.Writing - M, 62 chapters - As Hermione, Harry, and Ron are about to begin their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, they learn some surprising and dangerous information regarding what it means to be Pure in the wizarding world. HG/SS with H/D. AU after OotP. When A Lioness Fights by kayly silverstorm - M, 80 chapters - Hermione Granger, master spy, and Severus Snape, spymaster to the Order. An unlikely partnership, forged to defeat the Dark Lord on his own ground. But to do so, they must confront their own darkness within. Spying, torture, angst and love. AU after fifth

The Professor’s Discretion by Twelve Years in Azkaban - T, 22 chapters - The only thing keeping Hermione out of trouble and Harry Potter alive is... the Professor's Discretion. AU.

fics where Snape and Hermione are both professors at hogwarts after the war

This isn't a trope that I read a lot (I love A Light in the Fog, though), but I'll list some fics I've seen recommended over the years. Also, check out our Hermione Granger: Professor tag.

A Light in the Fog by turtlewexler - M, 29 chapters - The last thing Severus remembers is overhearing a prophecy in a dingy, goat-scented pub. Now there’s a James Potter clone with Lily’s eyes, a much aged McGonagall, and an infuriatingly familiar woman with wild hair all saying he is not a loyal Death Eater. Looking in a mirror proves that he is, indeed, suddenly pushing fifty. All in all, not his best day. AU, EWE. *COMPLETE*

A Murder of Crows by Hogwarts 91 - M, 33 chapters - 14 yrs post-war: Hermione’s teaching at Hogwarts when an un-aged Snape awakens from stasis and returns to the school. Sparks fly when they meet. Can they learn to trust and love in time to defeat an evil plot bent on changing the wizarding world forever?

The sound of silence by Ellemphriem - M, 36 chapters - When Professor Granger appeared at Hogwarts as the new Potion Mistress, she wasn’t expecting to be the temporary guardian of a beautiful and highly charismatic child. Neither was she expecting that child to draw close to her a lonely man who was encased in forced silence. This man slowly showed her that silence had a deafening sound, if you listened close enough.

The Fine Art of Fine Print by Mundungus42 - M, 8 chapters - Hogwarts’ headmistress threatens the integrity of the school with her reforms, so the Minister sends his most talented Unspeakable undercover to bring her down from within. What Hermione finds will change her life forever. SSHG

The Charms of Hermione Granger by SallySlytherin - M, 19 chapters - Hermione returns to Hogwarts as the new Charms Professor. She’s determined to befriend Severus Snape, whether he likes it or not.

[freytful]

Deaths human name is didi

[haltraveler]

“Olethra” goes so fucking hard as a name for a trans woman though. It’s the feminine form of the ancient Greek “olethros” which means “destruction” with a positive connotation, wiping away the old to make way for something new that’s SO COOL.

[pyrriax]

i love accidentally making parallels between characters that i dont think have ever substantially interacted in canon.

why do i do this.

anyways UUUUH anhedonia au is going somewhere.

[galacii-gallery]

Consider; Shattered preventing Geno from becoming Error and that Fate of theirs went to the Fresh instead.

...A Destroyer Fresh ( kind of heard that phrase somewhere and kept thinking about it )

[little-eye-guy]

by coincidence, aurelio and horizon both have okapi

it's a good gene

[belovedrat]

LITERALLY OBSESSED WITH THE OC AND PALETTE U PICKED RAHHH

the pallet u picked has no red so should I do it without gore or just add red I’m stuck and idk

HEHE AHHH TYY >w< im so happy to know ppl enjoy my oc sm I’m gonna explode with joy :,3 💥

OUUU yeah I think red would make everything pop >:3

Tbh if you’d like you can def do gore! If it’s more fun for you , definitely try it out, have fun with it! And if you don’t like it in the end you can always just add red elements to the art! 🤍

[snamioneasks]

Memento Amori by Olethros - M, 17 chapters - COMPLETE. SSHG. A vicious attack leaves Hermione Granger unable to form new memories. Now she and Severus Snape must work together on a weapon that could destroy Voldemort. Yet how can she trust him when her past is unknown and her present uncertain?

[anon-shift]

{Only a few manage to come through at least for this group. Leto, Jett, and Adrian, and the youngest, Olethros. Jett gets up first and backs away from the pile, laughing. Adrian dusts themself off next. Leto helps Olethros up and lets the little girl hide behind her legs.}

throws @anon-shift and @the-anons-anonymous and @magic-bitch-tomfoolery at you

anon meetup ❤️❤️

what- I- ACK-

{several anons being thrown at a fourth ends up in a tangle of limbs, typically, and this was no exemption. Unfortunately, 🪻recognized one of these anons too.}

oh, gods damnit… is everyone alright?

[dragonnan]

Fanfic Word Game

Thank you so much for the tag, @disappearinginq!

Rules: you will be given a 4 letter word. Then you share one short excerpt from your wips that starts with each letter of your word. My word is RUNS

______

R - Untitled Sherlock Faun AU WIP

Reaching into the foliage beneath the oak tree, Sherlock tugged out his bag. Throwing it over his shoulder, he preceded Mycroft back towards the car park; scuffing leaves and twigs from his curls.

The drive to Surrey was predominantly made up of Mycroft interrogating him about his classes, professors, and other students while Sherlock offered up various minimalist replies crafted to avoid implicating himself. Needless to say, he said very little.

By the time they finally pulled to a stop in front of the house - Sherlock had seriously begun contemplating leaping from the car to escape the drudgery. Alas, opportunity squandered, he was made to face the next stage of the gauntlet as the front door swung open and their mother strode out forcefully.

“What is this I hear that you missed the last two hours of classes, youngling? And of course your school nurse called me. Did you truly believe they wouldn't inform us?”

Heat flushed across Sherlock's neck and he could practically feel Mycroft gloating beside him. Of course this was nothing to the punishment that was ultimately handed down.

Mycroft, once the sentencing was read, was hardly pleased either, in the end – which gave Sherlock at least a dim sense of satisfaction.

“I hardly see why I must be punished as well.”

U - Untitled Sandman WIP:

“Undoubtedly my presence is a source of merriment for all of our siblings.” His sister cocked an eyebrow at his sour tone.

“Well, not if you’re Mr. Doom and Gloom. You could wilt cabbages with that mood.”

Dream didn’t bother with a reply.

He could scarcely admit that, for the first time, he was… intrigued by the upcoming gathering. Almost always it was Destiny to call them together for one of their wretched dinners. As eldest, it was his purview to do so. And, yet, this time, it had been one of the younger siblings to take on that responsibility. Olethros was often jovial and one of the loudest at the table. However, it was not in his nature to take a leading role in any engagement – preferring to participate in a more carefree manner; or mediator of various sibling squabbles.

So it was they passed the afternoon and, as torches were lit and stars began to light the skies, it was time to gather together.

They arrived, there in Destiny’s garden, in ones and twos. The twins were already at the table – Desire with a large goblet of wine while Despair fed a crust of pastry to one of her rats. Destiny stood some distance away – book in hand, as always, and looming like the specter he was. With a giggle and burst of perfumed fish, Delirium tumbled into sight – immediately drawing a grin from Desire. They held another goblet of wine towards their sister, who took it happily.

N - Untitled Sherlock AU WIP

Not entirely amicable – quit a few domestics in fact and many of their battles had revolved around John’s words that last Christmas. A part of John couldn’t blame her for that but, then, there was plenty that he could blame her for and thus their parting of the ways. So, yeah, his choice to stop trying. It was Mary’s choice, though, to leave. It had twisted something ugly inside of him to see his once wife walk away from her daughter. Because when she’d decided to leave, it hadn’t only been from the townhouse they’d shared, but London altogether. Of course, this had only reaffirmed John’s concerns about her vanishing without a trace.

John rocked his daughter as she fussed. Mary had pumped enough breast milk to last them for several days but a rubber nipple wasn’t comparable to the real thing and he’d been hard pressed to get Rosie to take a bottle.

He was lonely.

He missed what he thought they’d created.

After Rosie was down for her nap, John wandered back out into the sitting room. He’d never imagined this house could feel so… big. So empty.

It was almost like pain – to feel the grief of his former life stuck in his throat like a backed up pipe. His eyes were dry but all of the effects of that sadness remained. Perhaps it was worth attempting distraction, again. Dropping onto the settee, he felt around under one of the small pillows for the remote – finally throwing the damn thing across the floor in a flash of welcoming anger. The remote just peeped out from behind the seat cushion. He tugged it free and settled back with the remote in one hand and wishing he had a beer for the other. Sure, he could get up again and go fetch one but that seemed like so much effort. And he really, really didn’t want to risk getting too comfortable drinking through his emotions. Not again.

S - Untitled Iron Man WIP (Tony versus Fisk)

“So what wrong side of the bed did I wake up on this morning to earn this clandestine meeting before my Kai Jiew has had time to settle?” One hip resting on the edge of the railing, Tony managed to shudder back a yawn before it became embarrassing. Behind him, the familiar snap of a briefcase lock barely drew a glance as “Dilbert” pushed up his glasses and withdrew a thick file from the depths.

Further in the shadows, the larger man, silent, stood with his head at an oddly subdued angle. Often reticent in the blessedly few interactions Tony had ever had with the man, it was little surprise that it was his assistant who spoke.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark. I assure you this won't take long.”

The unstated request, of course, was that Tony sit at the table positioned within the large room. Tony raised an eyebrow. “You didn't say please.”

______

Tagged with a word

Word: SAND

@sevdrag @sgam76 @teejaystumbles @the-apocrypha @totallysilvergirl @helloliriels @ceruleanmindpalace @aelaer @kitcat992 @gabessquishytum @cuubism

[groversimp]

each word we spoke, the wind blew away - part one

writers are crafted through pain, and only some (the lucky ones) find love through that. think of the greatest writers: how many of them never bled? zero. because without knowing how bad the suffering is, you cannot know how good the joy is. and, we often find that joy in that suffering (though it can often turn into deformed lust).

^^^ moros is not a writer, but this is a sentiment I think he would agree with when it comes to Reader.

OLETHROS IS MOROS’ MAIN EPITHET MEANING “DESTRUCTION” (though it typically carries a positive connotation, representing renewal and the natural cycle of ending & beginning. yes this is relevant to the plot).

warnings: angst, reader keeps dying. no beta, no editing, we die like men.

You’re the embodiment of love. You’re the definition of light. He’s always been the dark, perpetually sad and hurt. His heart has failed to beat his whole life, but it awakens when he’s with you.

Your hands could breathe life into anything. With a brush of your fingers on the porous limestone, you shaped creations and gave birth to new life.

The statue stared back at you, and you cupped his face with one hand. The other hand holds your chisel, and you lean in as you form his lips. Moros, doom incarnate, appreciate this offering.

When you place the sculpture in the temple, you grin up at it— dust covering you, sticking to your face.

He was beautiful, carved to perfection. The outline of his eyes, the shape of his body. The statue could bring a warrior to his knees in worship. This is who high-priests spoke to, mortals feared. This is your creation, and you bask in the pride that swells in your chest.

You come back a few days later, only to find a strange man staring up at your statue. You blink at him, taking in his form— his grey-tinted skin, his long hair.

The rich fabrics of his clothing that did little to actually cover him, his full abdomen exposed. This couldn’t be some random traveler, too beautiful and too divine.

In your thoughts, his gaze flickers to you. You don’t notice the unsureness in his look before speaking, nor the slight awkwardness in his form.

“Hello, Mortal.” He speaks. You would’ve expected the mans voice to be cruel, cold and unforgiving. But the steady flow of his warm tone brings a smile to your lips, and as you get a closer look at him, visuals of mythos and tales flash before your eyes.

“Olethros.” You greet him, your voice ringing out as you offer a graceful bow. When you rise, you come closer to him. “Do you like the sculpture, my lord?” The note of hopefulness in your throat makes him swallow, and the look in your eye is almost ethereal— pure beauty.

But Moros has never been one for beauty. All he brings is doom, and doom is something sinister. Beauty is a form of righteousness, you cannot be good nor strong without that beauty, which then brings grace. If he dooms everything he touches, why would he touch anything beautiful? Beauty, love, is not made for him to doom.

“It’s quite nice.” He replies, and you beam. The light you exhibit could rival the sun, and he’d become like Icarus. A madman tearing his hair out as he flies towards you.

He only nods in response, because he is not deserving of such things, no trace of you can be found on him because it would only make you bleed.

Moros stays with you for a little while that day, until he is called back up to his sisters, he has more people to doom.

As he excuses himself, you reach out a hand to stop him. Moros backs away, but you ignore that. “You know you’re welcome anytime, Lord Moros. My door is always open.”

Again, he only nods in response. But, an understanding fills his mind: he won’t ever come to visit to again.

Two weeks later he finds you slaving away on a new sculpture.

You turn with a curious glance, and look victorious when you see him. “It took you long enough, Olethros.”

Moros approaches you, eyes set on the new sculpture. “Who is it?” He asks. You turn and return to your work, a quiet giggle escapes your lips. “Adonis, my lord.” You answer softly, almost wistfully.

He stays with you till his sisters call him back, when he leaves you invite him over again, and you swear you see a small smile on his face. Once again he nods, disappearing to wherever he’s been called.

Months and months past, and your relationship shifts. From god and worshipper, to (slightly hesitant) friend and friend.

It was when you were adding finishing touches to a sculpture of Aphrodite that you first touched him. You stood on a nauseatingly tall platform, when it began to shake from beneath you. You thought nothing of it till the planks creaked and you decided to get off.

In your struggle, you gripped Moros’ shoulder and helped yourself down. At the feeling of your touch, he stepped away, his eyebrows furrowed.

��Y/n—“ Moros says your name, you smile at him. “What, Olethros? Afraid of a small touch.” You reach out again, hand on his bicep, he pushes your hand off of his arm.

“I do not fear you, Doom. And I will not shy away from you. Do you hear me?”

“I hear a fools words.”

You grin at him, and only take a step closer, your chest brushing his. Moros scoffs, “you create your own ruin, you doom yourself—“

“And I will happily do so. Gods know it’s what fate has in store for me.”

Moros thought of the Fates, his sisters. Ever-lovely and so far away, his fingers twitch. They would like you, that’s not a good sign.

Moros, beautiful and terrifying to any other mortal, only bows his head. Conflicted. He leaves with his head bowed as well, throwing you a glance with a glimmer of a small smile, one you’ve become accustomed to. You grin back at him, coughing at the dust that floats through the air.

He comes back two days later, only for his soft smile to fade. You aren’t in the foyer, your Aphrodite statue is long-abandoned. With his eyebrows creased, he searches the temple and your private living spaces. Your name is the only thing on his lips, having found its home there within the past few weeks. Finally, he proceeds to check the last room— your bedroom.

You are laid motionless and cold on your plush bed. And there’s a moment of hesitation before he’s at your side, his hands hovering over you.

“Y/n.” He says, voice echoing in the dark room. “Mortal.” He says again, louder. The notes of panic in his voice is something foreign. He was doom itself, he had nothing to fear.

Except the loss of you.

When he returns to his sisters, he asks how you died— what had happened.

“Pneumoconiosis.” Lachesis answers him. Dust in the lungs. That was your doom.

So, Moros continued on. Mortals were born, mortals died, and still he doomed them with his hands. The hands that aided in your death. What else could’ve killed you?

There’s always been a shadowy crook within Moros’ soul— made not to love or be loved, but rather he is made to be evil. Because he is tainted with blood, and blood is anything but pure— and is evil not the absence of purity? This crook has never been important or dark enough to be fully recognized. But still, it follows Moros everywhere. A cut that always bleeds, a bruise that is too stubborn to heal. That crook, that wound, consumed him at the moment of your loss.