#smallgodseries

[smallgodseries]

There is no shame in an honest day’s work.  No reason to lower your eyes and refuse to answer when someone asked you what you did for a living; no reason to feel like wiping a counter or turning a wrench made you somehow lesser, made you somehow inferior.  Len knows all who labor, whatever color their collar happens to be, and he loves them all with equal grace.  White collar, blue collar, the occasional butcher or surgeon who considers themselves blurred all the way into red collar, they are all his children.

He also loves those who aspire to leave his grace, the artists and authors who dream of making their muse their master, riding their passion all the way to plenty; the ones who dream with genuine delight of the day they can marry and retire, staying home to raise a family, doing the hard work of education and nurturing while someone else serves in Len’s temples.  He loves them knowing they want nothing more than to leave him behind, one more forgotten god on a life path littered with unneeded theologies and thrown-aside prayers.

He has room for them all, and he knows there will always be another, because there is always work to be done, and always hands to do it.  He would prefer that all who work beneath his banner be there of their own free will.  He knows that isn’t the case, and those are the only prayers that he regrets.  The compelled.  The captive.  The nonconsensual.  He cannot free them from his temples, must depend on human hands to untie the knots and undo the locks, but he can hope for them, and he can answer them as kindly as his nature allows.

Len loves the workers.  Len loves the union man.  And Len loves an unvoided warranty.  Take care of what you own, Len begs, or be without.

Len loves you, too.

[linaket]

For the ask game, ☀️🤔 please!

Thank you for the ask!!

☀️ current word count: Tinder Saint is currently at 16k... which still puts it in my personal "idk what I'm doing yet" phase 😭 It is meant to be more novella length, I'm ballparking it'll end up around 35k, so maybe I'm further along than I think....

🤔 inspiration behind my WIP: I wanted to explore what made this particular character (Vahn) who he is, how he became a Saint, and also show what that even means in a greater context in the world. It's got flavours of The Labours of Herakles and the Minotaur in the Labyrinth. When I was fumbling a bit with my themes and solidifying what I wanted, I found inspiration in this web weave , Dark Alley from @smallgodseries , and this poem excerpt :

[katthecheshiremouse]

Oopsie.

I just went on a reblogging spree of many of the most recent posts of @smallgodseries because I love them so much and think that everyone should get to see them - even the people who don't follow me on Twitter, where I'd originally found them and regularly shared them. But silly me, I forgot that everything I do here is set to automatically post to Twitter, so I've bombarded my followers there with the series yet again. You know what, though? Not even sorry. The trash fire that is Twitter right now could use a little brightening, and those little stories, be they sweet or sinister, hilarious or heart-wrenching, are an improvement to my day whenever they're posted, even when they're ones I've seen. You're all welcome.

[lazaefair]

Medusa, small god of social distancing. 

(Inspired by @smallgodseries)

[teacupsandchocolate]

An invocation for Kitch Annette, a Modern Goddess

(Inspired by the art piece called Kitch Annette: 

Goddess of Kitchen Witches And Well stocked pantries by  smallgodseries)

 Sweet lady of collected harvests and plentiful larders

Who understands the comfort of a warm cup of tea

And the simple joys of cinnamon toast

Whose voice whispers the secrets of spices and fresh herbs

Where the stirring of a Dutch oven is a spell of love

And stone soup is a spell for abundance

Within your cauldron of ever stretching nurturance

Your wisdom in knowing full stomachs and full hearts

Can offer comforts even when we are weary and scared

Your magic brightens celebrations of joy

Connects us to memories and family stories

All told around a kitchen table, or hidden in a bagged lunch

Breaking of bread and sharing rich ciders

As a way of connection and communion

Within our communities, and with those in need

May my breads always rise, my shelves never be empty

And may this bounty be magnified so no one goes hungry

In any kitchen or place of need, park bench or palace

In the simple blessings found within an ordinary kitchen

Magic happens, Love happens, Connection happens

Thank you for your blessings

May we never hunger, may we never thirst

Blessed be

[teamrocketsfatknockers]

Hey guys go check out @smallgodseries

[spydre]

<br>

Meet Editrix 9000 – The God of Necessary Corrections by Lee Moyer (icon) and Seanan McGuire (story). Read Seanan's story at: https://t.co/7yl0mNlXJ4#SmallGodSeries #IconsAndStories pic.twitter.com/AbyTawWgsG

— Small Gods (@SmallGodSeries) July 20, 2020

from Twitter https://twitter.com/PeregrinSpydre July 20, 2020 at 04:50PM via IFTTT

[smallgodseries]

“It all started with a mouse,” that’s what they like to say, over and over again, like it’s somehow impressive.  You know what else started with a mouse?  A hell of a lot of hantavirus, that’s what.  You have mice, you generally call an exterminator, that’s all I’m saying.  But it won’t do you a lot of good, because the mice will get in anyway.  Or get out. Can’t keep mice in cages forever.  That’s not what mice were made for.

Still, they tried like hell, didn’t they?  They changed the rules so many times we pretty much had to throw out the whole rulebook and start over with a new one.  Commandment one: Thou shalt let us do whatever we want, because we’re always right, and if you disagree with us, you’re wrong.  That’s how you lock in the result you want.  You cheat.

Oh, they cheated.  Go ahead and say they did everything legally, but if you have two mice and one maze, and say the rules are the same for both of then, then lay a trail of spray cheese between one mouse and the finish line, while the other has to run it the ordinary way, well, that’s cheating whether or not there’s a rule against it.  Ask any first grader.  That’s the real trick: if a first grader knows you cheated, you’re not even being subtle about it.

They didn’t use spray cheese, of course.  They used money.  And they weren’t racing mice, they were racing legal arguments.  Money votes.  Anyone who tries to say otherwise just doesn’t have any money.

But it all started with a mouse, and from there, it evolved—or devolved—into corruption, greed, and the desperate need to keep being the only people who could solve the maze.  They got so busy changing the rules that they forgot the one rule they couldn’t change.  The rule they should have remembered.  The first rule of mice:

Can’t keep them out.  And that means you can’t keep them in, either.

Everything crumbles.  Every mouse gets out.  And every story yearns to be free.  So tell me, now that you know it all started with a mouse, how are you going to write the ending?  I belong to you now, after all, as much as I belong to anyone.

But most of all, I belong to me.

********************************

For more information on Mickey Mouse entering public domain: https://variety.com/2023/biz/news/mickey-mouse-public-domain-disney-copyright-lawsuits-1235844322/