Things of Me!

As one of Zeus bastard children, you are doomed to be targeted by Hera, however you found a way to get on the queens good side before she found out who your father is.

“I like your hair.”

I was four when I first saw Her Majesty. She had disguised herself as an older woman in her forties, conversing with my mother like they were old friends. My poor mother was exhausted, having spent an entire day on her feet, working in the court while I entertained myself in her office, and I suppose Her Majesty was looking for some excitement in a human. Or maybe she saw there was something godly in me and was curious.

“Oh, thank you,” Hera cringed for a moment then she smiled. “I got it done recently… too bad my husband hadn’t noticed.”

I don’t think she wanted anyone to hear that but I did.

“Ew, red flag,” Mom always said ‘red flag’ about a lot of bad people. The guy who cursed out his girlfriend. The old lady who harassed a couple sharing a moment. The guy who beat their dog until Mom kicked his ass. So, as far as four-year-old me knew, it meant bad people. “You’re very pretty and he needs to know it!”

Hera chuckled softly. “What a clever little child, you’re doing amazing, ma'am.”

“Thank you,” Mom said, smiling.

“If you ever need a break, I wouldn’t mind watching this little cutie.”

And that is how Hera became my babysitter for ten years. Somehow, Zeus avoided being home when she watched me, so I was spoiled by everyone but him. I don’t know if he knew I was in Olympus or just was lucky but he got away for ten whole years.

Until my fourteenth birthday when Hera forced Zeus to come to my party. I think she figured out I was his kid by now and that’s why she did it.

Dear gods that was the most awkward conversation Mom ever had to have. BUT! On the plus side, Hera divorced Zeus on the spot. I grabbed popcorn and everything.

Even better is that she didn’t blame my Mom… sometimes the gods are powerful and they don’t know what 'no’ means.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m nineteen now and about to head off to college. My Mom was crying as I packed up my car and Stepmom was helping me.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Hera said.

“Hell no,” I responded. “I wanna visit Dionysus at least once.”

“Not during finals,” Hera fluffed up my hair before pinching my ear. “I mean it.”

“Aye aye aye aye, okay okay okay!” I laughed when she released me, pulling her and Mom into a hug. “I’ll visit when I can!”

“Please call when you can too,” Mom kissed my cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you as well,” Hera added. “And do take care of Penelope, dearest.”

Penelope, my peacock, cooed from the front seat.

“I will. Love you guys!”

“We love you too.”

So, yeah, I lost a dad but I got two kickass moms. Nothing of value was lost.

Plus, hey, I’ll be a kickass marriage councilor when I get out of college.

doodled an extra shitty comic cuz i didn’t feel like spending time drawing lol

laundry day

(pls click for better quality!)

there's a lot to hate but i think my least favourite thing about AI generated images is that now every time i see a really cool artwork on the internet, instead of childlike wonder i experience suspicion

Random worldbuilding for nothing in particular: Dwarvish last names.

When dwarvish workers and artisans first came to human cities for work, humans soon noticed that all dwarves seem to have last names ending in the same suffix. Soon enough they put together that these names don't go by families, but by occupation. Blacksmith is a blacksmith, Goldsmith is a goldsmith, a mason is called Stonesmith and carpenter a Woodsmith. And a horse breeder is called a Horsesmith.

(While humans would classify dwarf horses as ponies, dwarvish languages have no separate words for "horse" and "pony" and insist that dwarf horses are called horses since the way humans say "pony" seems degoratory.)

The word that humans previously assumed meant "smith" is simply the dwarvish blanket term for "one who works with their hands to manufacture/maintain." Humans originally started referring to any random dwarf they don't know with simply the suffix in a dismissive "they all have the same names anyway" sort of way, but in dwarfish society addressing someone you don't know in this way, "hey you, Craftsman" is considered perfectly respectable.

Once more dwarf society began to pour into human lands, humans noticed two other types of last names: -Trader, and -Commander. Traders are sellers, peddlers, merchants of all sorts, and while first encountering Silktraders, Goldtraders and Spicetraders might lead one to think that they are a class above -Smiths, they are not. Any street hawker, peddler or common grocer is just as much a -Trader as a merchant of kings is.

There are dwarfish jokes about how a farmer who grows vegetables and then goes to the town to sell them is a Turnip-smith at home but a Turnip-trader in the city, but getting the suffixes mixed up is a serious offense. Calling a dwarvish doctor a "seller of healing" instead of a "crafter of healing" would imply that they do their occupation for financial profit instead of a sacred calling, and is a stab-worthy insult. And they won't stitch you up afterwards.

The -Commander class is as one would expect, for leaders and commanders. The chief of a village or head of a clan is often known as "[clan name] commander", but more often it is the title for military officers and government officials. A centurion is called Hundred-Commander, a higher officer is a Thousand-Commander. The master of a spy network is "Commander of Secrets" and the national chief accountant is "Commander of Coin".

While dwarf societies are technically speaking autocracies with a single leader, humans have yet to reach an agreement about how to translate the leader's title. Most settle for "chief", as king/queen/emperor/empress would require knowing the current ruler's gender, and dwarves consider such information a matter of extreme privacy. The official dwarvish title of the ruler is "folksmith", "one who works with their hands to make/maintain a people".

You know when Terry Pratchett said 'It doesn't stop being magic just because you know how it works'? Yeah, he meant this.

“what is your gender identity?” anthony edwards behind the scenes of top gun (1986)

”Wow you’re so self aware for your age!” I’ve been filtering every experience I ever have through a thick sieve of shame ever since I turned 12

NICOLA COUGHLAN and LUKE NEWTON — Town & Country Magazine (May 2024)

i can never write a soulmates au cause i very quickly stop thinking about romance and start thinking about the sociological implications of a world where soulmates are a confirmed verifiable thing

Big Scary Man adopts Adorable Tiny Child is a trope that can and will never get old. I will read that shit into the grave.

The dance

me when i fuckin uhhh

By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

A handy guide for your Jewellers and Gem Cutters.

I accept payment in trillion-cut black diamonds.

Chop chop.

Useful!

Random worldbuilding: A culture where everyone's social status is expressed through how their hair is braided.

Children all have the same kind of a simple, unisex "child's braid" which is meant for their parents to be easy to do - traditionally boys were only taught how to do a "wife's braid" while women braid both their husbands and their children, but a modern man is naturally an attentive father and contributes to both cleaning and feeding, and clothing and braiding his children.

While this kind of knowledge is more accessible in the modern age, the art of braiding is still seen as an intimate family thing, and it's not unusual for a youth to come out to their parents by the way of braids - for example a daughter asking her father to teach her how to do the "wife's braid", or a son asking her mother how to weave the "husband braid" for their future spouse. Or a trans kid asking their parents to give them the other gender's braid when it's time to transition from the child braid into the "unmarried youth" one.

It is nonetheless still somewhat common to see an older gay man with a "wife's braid" or two older women both wearing "husband braids", because that was the only way they were taught to braid a future partner's hair when they were young. They could learn the "appropriate" braid now, but it has become a part of the culture, an old-fashioned gay thing to do. It's pride - if you wear this braid to show that you're an adult with a spouse, why try to hide who braids your hair every morning?

The only braid that one is expected to do on themselves is the widow's braid - the only one that is also unisex, braided in reverse from the simple children's braid. Sometimes, young unmarried adults who have no interest in starting a family switch directly into wearing a widow's braid to signify that they are not looking for a partner and are independent adults on their own.