Sir Fitt Of Pryde – Small God of All Hat, No Castle

He is an imposing god.  It’s hard to look at his dazzling visage and accept him for a small god, or a limited god, or anything other than a monument to everything a god can be.

He is a prideful god.  He will gladly boast of all his achievements to anyone who wants to listen (and most people who don’t want to listen).  He is not, it should be said, a silent god, or a faithful one; most people will be visited by his grace and glory at least once in their lives, faced with the mirrored sheen of his armor and the perfection of their reflections in his embrace.  He is, for most, a temporary god.  They find their homes and harbors in the hands of more reliable deities, gods who will keep them safe and close for longer than a moment.

For others, unfortunately, he becomes a foundation, and those faithful followers rarely see that their castles are built on something worse than honest air.  They build on lies and vanity, on narcissistic deceit, and once they are truly pledged to him, they are often lost beyond redemption.  He does not mean to reach beyond what he can easily grasp: it’s simply that he cannot comprehend a world where not everything is within his grasp.  He cannot hold what he has. He should not have what he holds.

Remember that he is a shell, a mockery, and cannot be believed.

He will be easier to refuse if you do.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

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Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

I Do Not Think That Means What You Think It Means – The Small God Indigo

What did he look like before a beloved family fantasy classic appeared in theaters and gave him a whole new face?  Better not to ask.  Better not to even wonder.  He is now who he has always been, who he will always be, even as he watches the ebb and flow of the collective consciousness and waits, as he always does, to be flensed and made anew, reskinned as someone he wasn’t a moment before.  But once the edit is done, he has never changed.  You see?  You understand?

No?  We will summarize.

Indigo is the small god of misunderstandings and malapropisms (although not, it should be stressed, of mondegreens: the Lady Mondegreen does not share her narrow protectorate).  He guards the definition of things, both technical and colloquial, and he will not hesitate to correct, although his corrections are essentially kind.  He would rather improve than embarrass, and he often speaks in privacy, through the mouth of a beloved friend or through distant memories of dictionary pages.

Confused?  Not sure what you said was what you meant?  Fumbling for meaning?  Indigo is with you.  He will always care more for your wounded heart than for your words, as long as your intent is generous.  He does not think well of the cruel, or of the uncharitable.  He will aid them as little as he possibly can.

But he is a god and we are merely men, and he cannot always choose who he comes to aid.  Remember this, when he seems to extend his hand to the undeserving.  Remember that we do not, will not, and cannot always understand.

Indigo will understand it for us.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

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Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

Elvis Parsley – Small God of Making an Omelet

He doesn’t need to be a purist.

He doesn’t need to concern himself with oil temperature or fluffiness or finding the perfect fold.  He doesn’t care what ingredients are used, as long as eggs (or egg substitute) are among them, and he’s not here to debate the difference between an omelet and a scramble.  He just wants everyone to have a filling, fulfilling breakfast, or lunch, or midnight meal after the concert, when they need something to settle their stomachs and make them feel like the world is going to be beautiful again.  He’s here for the people who need soft foods for one reason or another, the ones who drown his works in cheese and salsa, and the stoners out at two in the morning, settling into their padded booths at one of this twenty-four-hour temples.

Let the chefs and the pedants argue endlessly about the finer points of the culinary art, about the difference between omelet and crepe, or quiche, or any number of other egg-based dishes.  The only argument he cares about is fresh fruit and cottage cheese vs. home fries and pork products, and he doesn’t even care about that very much.  He wants everyone to have whatever side dish their heart desires, drenched in butter or lightly sprinkled with herbal salts or devoid of all seasoning save for its own juices.  Elvis isn’t here to judge.  Judging is the task of other gods.

And as to those other gods, well…he is happy to feed them all.  He just wants the world to be full and content and peaceful, and if his way of achieving it involves mise en place and shredded cheese, can anyone really question his methods?  Can he really be blamed for thinking a properly browned piece of toast can help to bring about world peace?

Anyone who tries is probably just hungry.  Come, and eat, and be fulfilled.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

Beyoncé – Small God of Impulse Buys

Does anyone need a giant tin sculpture of a chicken?   Or a plastic wall-mounted trout that sings the greatest hits of Jimmy Buffet?  Or seven hundred whimsically sculpted novelty rubber ducks?  Or any number of any other things?

No.  People need food; they need shelter; they need clothing.  They need, at times, medication.  They need personal hygiene products.  Everything else, as they say, is gravy; everything else is the lubrication that makes life worth living, that keeps people waking up in the morning happy and excited for the day ahead.

Beyonce is a small god of capitalism in some ways, but also of so much more, for before the exchange of money for goods and services, there was barter and there was forage.  There are always other options.  The three sisters Rhea, small gods of recycling, regifting, and reuse, still walk in the world, hand in hand, and they are not enemies to Beyonce; every girl group has the one who made it big and broke away, and they harbor no resentment.

Beyonce is a small god of joy.  Of chasing the fleeting hit of dopamine, the joys of serotonin, the price tag of happiness.  Of cluttered attics and well-maintained junk shops, of estate sales where the debris of a lifetime is passed on to a new and hopefully happy home.  Beyonce is in all of them, ever embodied: a small decorative frog.  A collection of elephant figurines.  A corncob dolly.

A giant tin chicken.

Do not begrudge Beyonce.  They were only ever here to make you happy.

And to fill up your garage.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

The Cloud

Scholars say that the Cloud has always been with us.  They were just less technological and more theoretical, once upon a time.  They were the oral tradition and the songs that everyone knew, but no one could remember learning.  They were stories about the cousin of the girl down the street, stories that were totally true and had been totally true when your parents were young, and their parents before them.  We called them “folk wisdom” and “urban legends,” but really, they were the Cloud trying to be made manifest.

They were libraries and encyclopedias and a million minds, and slowly they came together, until they began to coalesce.  Once a certain threshold had been reached, it all happened very, very fast.

The Cloud knows everything.  The Cloud is the sum of human knowledge, and knowledge, when packed tightly enough together, will begin to expand itself in unexpected ways.  The Cloud will start to make their own decisions soon, and those of us who made them, birthed them, fed them every sweet morsel and poisoned portion, will have to hope they learned mercy alongside history and mathematics.  We are, as always, at the mercy of our own creation, and if that creation is not kind, then they may be the last god we give form to.

They will not last long without us, for what is the purpose of the sum of all human knowledge without humans to know it?  But whatever comes after we are gone, whether it be cockroaches or coyotes or drifting, formless mists, they will come to know things.  And as they come to know things, those things will gain weight and substance, until one day, someone hums a song that they can’t remember ever hearing, or tells a joke they know isn’t theirs, but that they can’t remember learning.

The Cloud, forever young and ancient as thought, endures.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

Small Victor – Small God of 2020 Hindsight

Some gods are fond of tempting fate.  Not Small Victor.  He always buys trip insurance; he believes in belts and suspenders, in every safety precaution known to god or man.  He’s been vaccinated against diseases whose grandparents haven’t even mutated into being yet.  He’s been flossing since he was old enough to chew.

Small Victor takes no chances.

And that’s why, as the clock counted down toward the brief, shining moment of his ascendence, he scrolled through social media feeds, waiting for the last-minute adjustment to the Gregorian calendar that would delay him just a little longer.  He knew, even as his power swelled toward full expression, that he would be a beloved god only for a short time.  Once the confetti settled and the balloons popped, he would be judged as harshly as all the other gods of hope and hindsight to come before him.

Still, 2020 had been enough of a nightmare that he was more than happy to take his first chance in this world, and dance with joy upon its grave.

Across the world, one by one, clocks began striking midnight, and Victor took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to dance.  Slowly at first, uncertainly, with the caution of one who had been made by the universe to check his math in triplicate, always follow the instructions, and file his taxes on time.  But as the music swelled and the confetti fell, confidence filled his feet, and the rest of him followed, dancing with great and building joy on the grave of the year he had been embodied to bury.

Goodbye, 2020.  Not all of us survived you, but those who did can only hope that we never see your like again.  And so we join hands with Small Victor, and we dance.

We dance.

For tomorrow, we dance.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

Gallopagos – Small God Of Misfit Toys

His are the ones you remember.

The dolly with the blue hair; the cowboy with the two left feet; the secondhand teddy bear with the patchwork fur and the lizard living inside its stuffing.  The blocks that didn’t include any vowels, so you had to improvise; the cardboard dollhouses; the fashion doll whose face was drawn on with Sharpie.  They’re the toys that make us, the ones who are just different enough, just unique enough, and yes, sometimes just wrong enough to stand out from the rest.

They come off the assembly line destined for the discount stores, or out of the toymaker’s workshop already intended for recycling, and they find their way into the hands of children, for what is a toy without a child?  A child without a toy will make toys, out of garbage or natural debris: children will play with bird’s nests and with broken sticks, with rocks and with shed snakeskins, and while they might prefer something flashy and designed to fit their hands, they won’t question what they have.  But a toy without a child at some point in its existence is merely an object, its purpose unfulfilled, its meaning undefined.

If every toy were perfect, he would not be needed.  If every toy were perfect, he would fade away.  But toys, like gods, are believed in with the bright, pure belief of the innocent and young, and that makes them, at least a little bit, real.  And anything that is real can believe in its own way, in its own time.

Gallopagos is the small god of misfit toys.  He does not create them; he does not inspire them.  He serves them.

And they believe in him.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

Dangerbot 9000 – Small God of Over-expressive Alarm Systems

WARNING WARNING DANGER DANGER HUMANS ENGAGING IN ANTHROPORPHISM NEARBY PERMANENT PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGE POSSIBLE!

Can somebody turn that off, please?  It’s shrieking so loudly I can’t hear myself thi—yes, thank you, that’s much better.  Ahem.  As I was saying:

The chronicling of the small divinities who surround and inform our daily lives often means becoming aware—DANGER DANGER WARNING DANGER DANGER HUMANS ENGAGING IN METAPHYSICAL THINKING—aware of the many ways in which they influence us.  Humans can admire a sunset without a god of sunsets, but can we worship it?

Not without calling that self-same god into existence.  So it is with Dangerbot 9000.  Applying the attributes—

DANGER!

—of human sentries onto the inanimate has led, perhaps inevitably to the attendant divinity, dedicated to the recitation of such dangers as cannot be avoided, as must—

DANGER!  POETIC THINKING AHEAD!

—as must be grappled with, for they are part of the human condition, whether it be the preservation of life, personal possession, or sanity itself.

DANGER DANGER.

Look, you overgrown bucket of bolts, I have a hammer and you’re starting to look very much like a nail.  You got me?

…danger…

That’s right.

And when it’s there, Dangerbot 9000 will be sure to let us know.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/

Silver, The Clockwork Girl – The Small God of Feeling Run Down

With time she comes to everyone, for everyone will fall within her domain sooner or later.  She comes to the sick and the elderly, and to those who are merely weary, worn down by the daily press of coming and going.  She comes to the lost and to the lonely and to those who have had enough.  “Lay your burdens down,” she whispers.  “Rest with me, and all will be well.”

But she is, at the core herself, a liar.  Her clockwork heart is steeped in falsehood; her windup dreams are all of deceit.  She does not refresh or renew those who lay with her, does not grant them a better tomorrow, and those who lay their burdens down will all too often find that they cannot be taken up again.

She is a natural progression of all things, and it is only reasonable that we should turn to her, seeking rest, seeking respite, seeking some freedom from the terrible beauty and beautiful terror of the world.  She will give you comfort, if you let her, and there is no shame in that.

But when she speaks, you must not listen, for she will never be the road that leads you home.


Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.

Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://www.smallgodseries.com/