
He was, until very recently, having a moment.
One of those moments that makes a small god think they might be moving up in the world, might be getting ready to become a medium god, or even—Zeus be willing—a large god. The kind who gets temples and tributes and childhood books on mythology written about them.
One of those moments that seems perfectly preordained and inevitable while it’s happening, impossible before it happens, and meant to be eternally lamented once it’s over.
He was, until very recently, having a moment. And now he’s having a half-off sale on hot glue guns and random, useless gears. He’d be willing to throw in a velvet top hat or two for the right buyer; just ask him.
Just ask.
Just remember he exists.
He was, until very recently, having a moment. Moments, he has learned to his chagrin, end.
[image description: Portrait of a smiling man with an extravagantly curled mustache and goatee. He wears a tall metal-studded top hat with a red band. He wears a red cravat and white kid gloves. His goggles are whirling gears, and gears ornament his hat, lapel, and the entire background. He holds a black cane with a curled wooden top. Text reads, “14 C•GSWELL – Small God of Steampunk.”]
Artist Lee Moyer (The Doom That Came to Atlantic City, Starstruck) 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:
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