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nethergodsnovel · 3 years
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If ur arabic ur great If ur arabic and muslim ur great If ur arabic and queer ur great If ur arabic and muslim and queer ur great I know it seems hard to believe but you’re not bad you’re not awful
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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I don't have children in real life, but I do have fictional children - Rusanda, pansexual, and Axel, ace/aro. If you need support, I don't know you, but I'm here for you.
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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I'm here for you. We're here for you.
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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Amazing artwork by Nana Leonti 😍 Please meet the main character, Rusanda, and her best friend and sidekick, Axel! I'm so very excited!
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This is for one of my patrons this month! ( <3 @nethergodsnovel ) Every patron gets a free wallpaper for their phone each month and all patrons of $10 tier and above get free art monthly!
The character and avatar belongs to @nethergodsnovel​ , you may reblog but not repost/use without permission!
You too can join my patreon! <3
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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"I let myself slid down and stared at the four red letters, empty and dejected. 
‘I don’t see what else I can do. I have no idea where to look. I can’t even think anymore.’
The words left my mouth on their own; my mind was vacant but for the fog of misery that clouded it. My throat tightened, and I gnawed at my lower lip in an attempt to keep down the sobs that were starting to rise to my throat. Frustration and rage, fueled by my own shame for being useless and incapable, swelled in my chest, threatening to burst.
‘I don’t know! I don’t know where it is, damn it!’, I yelled, clenching my fingers around a rock and hurling it at the wall.  
‘Why am I so fucking useless? Why the hell am I sitting here, crying and feeling sorry for myself like a weakling, instead of doing something for them? Damn it!’ 
‘Hey, hey, don’t say that.’ 
Axel sat next to me and gently pulled my hands away. I realised I’d been clawing my own arm in rage. 
‘Don’t be so harsh on yourself’, he murmured soothingly, wiping my cheeks with his sleeve. ‘This is an unusual situation; it’s perfectly normal to be nervous, or to have a break-down. I’m here, I’m with you.’ "
(Fragment of "Nether Gods", chapter 6 : "Voi ch'entrate")
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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Struggling to write? I've found these free online classes on short stories, plotting, writing a novel, developping characters, writing different genre... Already signed up for two of them and I find them very interesting.
So here you go, get that inconsistent muse to work for you!
P.S. They also cover other useful topics for writers, such as publishing, marketing, editing, distribution, and design.
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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I reached the end of the plot I've outlined in advance, and now I have no idea what happens next. I suppose it's time to tell my characters to figure things out on their own.
Is this how parents feel when their kids turn 18? 🤔
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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Meet my characters
I went through a few days of writer’s block, as one does, so I spent one of them creating cute avatars of my characters in Zepeto (also tried the Sims, but my too old laptop crashed before I saved -.-) which also helped me see them a little bit clearer. 
So here they are! 
Rusanda
The main character, she’s a Romanian expat in Paris, working as a barista. She’s a petite, dreamy bookworm, living more in her head and in imaginary worlds than in the real one. Passionate about folklore and mythology, she’s known to drop odd bits of information and anecdotes onto her unaware friends. She’d rather be home with a book than in the middle of a party, and is anxious about pretty much everything that is unknown to her (places, people, situations...) 
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Axel 
Rusanda’s best friend since college, Axel is a protective kind of person: of his friends, his sister, and the catacombs of Paris - which he explores endlessly and loves more than any other place he knows. Because of his Scandinavian descent, Axel is jokingly nicknamed “Thor” or “the Viking” by Rusanda, and he deserves it. (The Zepeto avatar doesn’t do him justice, to be honest.) His job as a tourist guide - putting his extensive historical knowledge to use - as well as some photography projects allow him to earn enough to live on, while maintaining the level of freedom he needs. 
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Lilianne
Axel’s younger sister, she is described by Rusanda as “every bit the typical Parisian, from her naturally mussed blonde hair to her ripped jeans stuck in flowery Wellington boots” (it’s fair to say she doesn’t like Lilianne much - at least at first). Although she seems frivolous and empty-headed, Lilianne will surprise everyone but her brother when attacked by a stranger in the catacombs.
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“‘Good evening, Lilianne’, Axel smiled, pulling her to his chest with one arm. She struggled briefly, flailing around to no avail, and gave in. ‘And so you meet my sister’, came the explanation, while still keeping her face buried into his coat. ‘Feeling warmer down there now?’ The coat mumbled angrily. Laughing, the second girl tried to help by pulling at Axel’s arm with just as much success until, magnanimously, he let go of his sulking sibling.”
David
Also met Rusanda in college, but their relationship is, let’s say, different than the one she has with Axel. From an Egyptian family who moved to France two generations ago, he’s completing his Master’s degree in English literature. 
“David looked at me intently. Fire rose in my cheeks, and my heartbeat went wild. When we'd met in college, his lazy smile and dark eyes, half hidden by long lashes, had wiped me off my feet like a tidal wave. Ever since, we'd been caught in a dance of side glances, ambiguous smiles, and half spoken invitations that said nothing clear, and left everything to interpretation. Under his burning gaze, I wondered if the charms of my pagan ancestors could bring us to finally cross the line. Axel coughed discreetly. 'I have an idea...'I fought for control and managed, with some difficulty, to take my eyes off David. Looking into his was enthralling, like staring into the depths of a whirlpool. The smile he gave me was a riddle.”
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Michelle
Came from Cameroon to study medecine in Paris. Michelle is a warm and caring person, always putting the others before herself and downplaying her own merits. 
“‘I’m Michelle’, the girl said, adjusting her bonnet over the thick curls and offering us a wide, warm smile, complete with tooth gap and dimples, which contrasted beautifully against her dark skin. ‘In charge of any medical attention that hopefully no one will need tonight.’“
(Unfortunately, Zepeto doesn’t feature African hair -.-)
P.S. She’s the character for which I was asking for help on one of my first posts, and I’d still appreciate any advice
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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Before having a clear idea of the plot, I've done a lot of research on mythologies, folklore, and mythical creatures of the world. Here's one of the most detailed podcasts I've found on Hades and the underworld, which has been tremenduously helpful and made me discover some very interesting aspects to use in the story:
For all the fans of mythology and/ or fellow writers, I'll regularly post podcasts and articles about the stories and creatures featured in "Nether Gods" - and please share yours!
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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Who wants me to write this? 😍
(And by the way, if you know who the artist is, could you please let me know so I can give credit 🙂)
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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inkskinned:
in another life, zeus is lounging on the couch of his best friend’s house and saying, “i’ll get a job, man, i swear it,” even though CEO seats only smell of sweat and he’s the type to smell of leaving, he says, “guess what’s up my sleeve” to ladies and shows off lightning bolt tattoos and gets drunk and cries and begs hera to come home because he has only ever known rest at the seat of her collarbone
hera’s is louis vuitton, devil wears prada. pants suits and hair up in a tight bun. a warning lies ready on her tongue, she is quick to scold, hard to love. she pours fireball into her morning coffee just to remind herself of the way he always smelled of burning, just so she could face a little bit of him and not come back running. in this life, she is divorced, is doing well, sometimes meets up with the baby mamas of her sour-faced ex-lover (if she could wash him out, she would, she would, she would, but lightning loves towers and she only feels at ease in thunderstorms and twenty-four stories because olympus was rebuilt into skyscrapers and nobody can tell her otherwise), sometimes gets over her hatred of them. the one who jumps at swans is her roommate, they both like romance movies and staying out late. she chooses alone. she chooses: i make my own home.
aphrodite is a party girl with black pumps and a wicked smile, facebook messages hephaestus while sex-skyping her little god of war, she says, “sorry” a lot. sometimes she thinks she is running out of love, sometimes she thinks there’s not enough love left. she comes around again to the satin of her lover’s beds, never feels warm. she says, fine. she says, i’m okay. ares here is commander of the department of defense, never settled down, never got the wife and two kids. one day in this life hephaestus hears a knock on his garage door and walks on over. in this life, they’ve got braces for broken people like him. when he answers, it’s just her, no makeup, just her in her big-eyed weepy mess, and she says, “you actually listen” so he listens for a little. she explains slowly; new term, polyamorous. she says, heart is steady bead on both people. he says, “i know, i understand,” she says, “but it’s hurting you,” he says, “i gave up hurting for other people a long time ago,” he says, “the war god and i go out for drinks and talk about anything but you” she cries again, a whole ocean. he says, “i am learning, and one day maybe it will be all us three” she says, “you wait for me,” and he does. more and more often, when the world tastes too much, she shows up at his door, to be the person she is when she’s unbeautiful. in this life, a little down the road, she takes a break from all of it and starts a no-kill shelter called “the golden apple”. hephaestus builds it for her. she kisses him on the cheek. one day, when the ares comes around, the three of them play video games. after that, it is not share-her. it is all-the-same.
athena turns down apollo on the radio, his song trapped in the throats of all who hear it. a good song, a catchy song, a hear-it-once-and-never-forget-it song. athena dropped out of school to pursue knowledge. she teaches around the world with a backpack on her back and a smile on her face. her girlfriend is a librarian. whenever she comes home, she swings the little woman up in her arms and bursts with stories. the woman laughs because stoic athena in public is not the athena of private, is not knowledge-river athena. athena freelances as a journalist. anywhere she can give out information is good enough. eventually her name and “breaking news” are synonymous.
artemis goes to the red carpet on the arms of her brother, says that the world of hollywood is too much sunlight for her, she goes back to working as the city’s best detective, the hunt in her blood for monsters among men. in her free time, she follows athena down to places, traps poachers who would use her name to ruin the lives of beasts. hera has learned long ago not to pester her about marrying. artemis comes out as ace/aro one day to her brother, who rolls his eyes at her. “you still get grossed out every time people kiss,” and then he bowls her over in a hug she didn’t know she needed. this is one of the only times he sees her cry. the next is eight years later at his wedding. the man he chooses as his partner has already undergone a secret artemis-style investigation. he came out clean, and she came out with a second brother. when her twin asks her about the happy tears, she jokingly tells him she was worried his was going to marry his car. he laughs, big sun laugh and says, “trust me, i was this close.” in hot summers, they go down to the docks and the two boys throw atemis in the water. she never stops complaining or loving it and loving them and is entirely happy when he becomes a father.
in this life, demeter raised a flowerchild who never took to the backbreak of farming, and in this life, hades’s black leather jacket at first made her spit. she despised his motorbike and his big smile and how loud his dog was and how her daughter jumped up nimbly on the back of that thing and flung herself at the horizon. but hades tries as hard as he can: the engine gets turned over into clean fuel even though he breaks his third finger in the middle of it, the leather jacket gets swapped out for a faux replication, he becomes vegan (”’sehpone,” he says in wonder one day, “you taught me how to live off of pomegranates”, sephie laughs), he makes deer-crossing signs and petitions for the rights of small-town farmers. Persephone becomes a wedding designer, loves making big shows out of a lot of flowers. after many holiday gifts (some so desperately approval-seeking that demeter actually chuckled at them), she relents. they have brunch on sundays, made specifically by hades and his whole-grain all-organic house. demeter at one point says, “actually, you’re so earthy-crunchy it’s more than even me” and hades drops the plate he’s holding. demeter comes to the engagement party and laughs when the cake is in the shape of a pomegranate seed. sephie says, “don’t worry mom. he knows what will happen if he does anything to me,” and demeter gives her daughter a proud smile and says, “you’ll crush him like a bug, won’t you sweetie?” and sephie looks over at her duckling god of death and says, “exactly”
hestia finds dionysus because that is what she does. a social security worker at first, she becomes keeper of the hearth-less. she starts with a small group of people and eventually became leader of a chain of homelessness shelters, all immaculate and warm and held to her standards. dionysus cries when she picks him up, he talks about having fallen in love again, she says, “rehab is your only option.” it is here that he meets someone who is also pansexual. it is here he realizes he is not broken. it is here where they wean him off of whiskey and heroin (”what a bad combination,” he’d later say, shaking his head, “like you really gotta choose one”) and where he breaks down often and throws things at hestia’s head and calls her more names than have ever been strung against her: it’s here he makes his best friend. when he gets out, he finds he’s still ever-thirsty, but this time, there’s less empty in him. he helps at her shelters. he meets a girl who is bisexual, she takes him to pride rallies. he later bursts into hestia’s room with a rainbow on his face and says, “there are so many like me! i’m not invisible! i’m not fake!” and she smiles and watches the hearth of his chest warm up and helps him become a leading spokesperson for activism. rather than letting people like him die in the streets, he uses his experience to say, “i lived survival, and you can live it with me.”
hermes is a surgeon over in the children’s section, found that this is where he should be. silicone valley wants him for his communication systems, but instead he feels like he needs to be somewhere the action is. poseidon comes to him in darkness with rough palms and says, “i have a very long-standing secret,” and hermes just nods his head. the surgery is done quickly and without charge. poseideon says, “thank you” four million times, and then she takes back off to her company dedicated to clean energy. she calls up hera crying and says, “i dd it, i did it, i did it, but what will he think of me,” and hera says, “i haven’t talked to zeus in six years but if he rejects you i will walk up to him and shake him until the right answers fall into his head” and when artemis hears she says, “i will go with you” and walks at her side the whole time even though poseideon is awash with emotions and ready to burst into tears. zeus opens the door and looks poseideon up and down and says, “did you do something  with your hair, sis?” and poseideon says, “eat my entire” before she’s swallowed by happiness and has to sit down on the concrete step and sob into her palms for sixty seconds. later she puts him in charge of the wind energy portion of her company. he gets his own place, but he never stops missing hera, who watches him from a distance and checks up on him through poseideon. hera says, “right now it’s about me. it can be about him if he keeps up the good behavior.” poseideon has never been so happy. she has her family and she has herself, in one piece, finally. she calls up sephone, she says, “listen, i’ve got a plan, okay?” and of course the wedding planner would have to be in charge of everything. 
in this life, the reunion is beautiful. dionysus doesn’t touch the alcohol. hestia stands beside him proud and wonderful. apollo (who wouldn’t come without being allowed to choose the music) and his husband push artemis into the pool, she returns the favor with athena’s help. hades and persephone beat everyone at beer pong, but demeter crushes them at gin rummy. posideon dances with her sisters. hera stands back and her mouth quirks and zeus watches her the whole time, in his new three-piece suit. aphrodite is in between two men, but she’s no longer quite in between them. she walks over to her once-king and says “love needs time and understanding” and he thinks: of course. of course. he will change who he is for her. she never needed him. he needed her. he needed this to feel in place: he needed a family, as one, as olympus with its golden gates. in this life, for one moment, they are all happy.
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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I want to see Greek gods in the modern era.
I want to see Zeus in a tailored suit and shaggy beard, a walking disparity of the loud, brash, post-graduate frat boy variety who can’t pass a woman on the street without catcalls, who has more one-night stands than he could possibly keep in his head, for whom adultery comes as naturally as the weather he predicts on the Channel 4 News—with startlingly accuracy, and an endless wealth of charisma.
I want to see Hera walking tall, six-inch heels and not a wrinkle in her skirt, knowing her boyfriend is cheating, and knowing with equal certainty that she is better, stronger, fiercer than he will ever be, a wedding planner with an eye of steel, spotting vulnerability, slicing it open, teaching every woman who crosses her path to value themselves over any mistake made in the name of men and love.
I want to see Poseidon in Olympic prime, a gym rat who skives off class to shatter backstroke records, who spends his summers lifeguarding at the city pool, who keeps an ever-expanding aquarium in his bedroom and coaxes all the pretty girls up to visit his fish, his charm as impressive as the earth-rending temper he generally uses to fuel his competitive nature.
I want to see Hades, big, hulking, quieter than his brothers would ever think to be, who dresses in neat dark clothes, and polishes his boots, and spends more time reading than fighting, who debates eventuality and ethics, who stoically reminds everyone how enormous, how terrifying, how inescapable a thing like silent inevitability can be.
I want to see Hermes in a beanie, with watercolor splashes of tattoo crawling up his arms and holes in his Chucks, a bike messenger with no helmet, no regard for the rules of the road, all cataclysmic laughter, lock-pick tricks passed along to every kid who thinks to ask, thumbing through his iPhone without a care in the world.
I want to see Athena with reading glasses pushed high on her head, six books in her bag and a switchblade in her back pocket, her clothing as neatly ordered as her mind is feverish, brilliance and temper clashing and blending, doing her best to look dignified—even when her brain chemistry rockets ahead of her well-intentioned plans.
I want to see Apollo splattered with acrylics, board shorts and Monster headphones and a beautiful classic car, busking on street corners, not because he has no choice, but because the sunlight catching on a sticker-patterned acoustic is summer incarnate, because music is blood, because the act of creation is the ultimate in sublime.
I want to see Artemis in ripped jeans and haphazard topknot, star of the soccer team, the track team, the archery team, who rides a motorcycle, and keeps a tribe of girls around her at all times, and does not care for men, for expectation, for anything but volunteer hours down at the local animal shelter and falling asleep under the stars.
I want to see Aphrodite in sundress and scarf, homemade jewelry and lavish amounts of bright red lipstick, who is excellent at public speaking, at theater auditions, at soothing bruised egos and sparking epic fights, who kisses as easily as she breathes and scrawls poetry onto bathroom stalls.
I want to see Ares all but living in the boxing ring, cutoff shirts and sweats, red-faced under a crew cut as he punches, punches, punches until the noise in his head dims, a warrior with no war, all crude jokes and blind fury, totally incapable of understanding what it is to sit, think, plan before running screaming into the fray.
I want to see Demeter with the best garden you’ve seen in your life, with a lawn care business she runs out of her garage, a teenage prodigy grown into a joint-custody single mother, who teaches her carefree daughter all she knows while scaring off the hopeful neighborhood boys with the pet python draped across her shoulders.
I want to see Dionysus with a joint in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, baggy hoodies and three-week-old jeans, who brews his own beer in his basement and greets all visitors with a fresh pack of Oreos and half-stoned theories of the universe, of birth and death and partying mid-week, because why not, man?
I want to see Hephaestus with a workshop taking up the majority of his house, whose kitchen is overrun with blowtorches, whose bathrooms are home to all manner of hodge-podge invention, who walks with a cane and forgets his laundry for weeks at a time, and strings together the most beautiful steampunk costumes at any convention at the drop of a hat.
I want to see wood nymphs fighting against climate change, waving their signs and pushing for scientific progress. I want to see epic heroes sitting down to Magic: The Gathering tournaments, poker brawls, Call of Duty all-nighters with beer and snapbacks. I want to see Medusa working a women’s shelter, want to see Achilles training for deployment, want to see Prometheus serving endless community service stints for what he calls providing necessary welfare with stolen goods.
Give me modern mythology. I could play for hours in that sandbox.
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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A witch is a magic user with more focus on medicine and the body and a wizard is a magic user with more focus on like physics and academia. I don’t know what dingus made up one day that they’re just the 2 magic genders, that sounds stupid
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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Person A: “You got in trouble? I don’t believe it. What did you do? Forget to wash behind your ears or something?”
Person B: “……Or something.”
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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nethergodsnovel · 4 years
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Your very best friend in the whole wide world.
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