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Look, it's not my fault the Z man keeps having kids he doesn't know what to do with.
Actually physically raising a chorus of little gods and goddesses? Why sure, he seems to have that part down. Credit where credit’s due, my old man may be at his best with small children. Beings seem to think babies are cute, especially their own. Especially before they start acting on their own accord, instead of just regurgitating what you want from them.
But way before his children are grown, our Bampás is likewise way out of his depth. It's happened with all of us. Let's run down the roster, shall we?
Athena, who would be the golden child if only she weren’t that dusty shade of grey. Sometimes I think she took all Daddy-o’s functional brain cells with her when she sprang forth. She came into the world fully grown (very strategic of her, har har), which I'm pretty sure is why she's one of his best beloveds.
It's probably easy to love a being who never filled up their diaper while sitting on your lap, or hurled their spanakopita against the dining room wall whenever that disgusting spinach-stuffed abomination was served, or wanted to sleep in your bed again because the scary dream was back.
Anywhoodles. My theory is that Athena is how ol Zig Zag wants to think of himself. Brilliant, cunning, strikingly colored. So of course she’s the fave.
Next is Ares, the physical embodiment of toxic masculinity. Don’t get me wrong, he might actually be my favorite of our whole motley crew. He’s easy to rile up, and he’s the second best (after myself, natch) at getting into shit. But he’s also a single-minded meathead whose obsession keeps him from managing any other part of his life. (If we go on one more supposed rampage that devolves into me watching him weep into his ambrosia, I extra won’t be held responsible for my actions.)
Essentially he’s got all of father dearest’s aggression and impulsivity, without the foresight to plot his way out of a wet papyrus sack. That combo’s got to be awkward to raise. No wonder o patéras mou basically refused to!
Then there’s Hephaestus, who I can respect for pulling such a long con on everyone. He’s really yanked the wool over everyone’s eyes. Everyone thinks he’s soooo smart and soooo clever, but come on, is repeatedly maiming yourself with your own inventions actually a valid marker of intelligence?
Guess who also thinks he’s smarter than he really is: Pop-Pop. Case closed.
Apollo, lol. What to say about this sleazy, creepy social climber? Being the God of the Sun doesn’t count for much when Helios provides all the actual radiation. That makes Apollo more like the God of Keeping His Weird Uncle From Ruining Dinner. As the God of Medicine he likewise subcontracts out all that pesky diagnosis and treatment. Here’s the one good thing I can say about him: he puts in the work as the God of Music, okay, and is constantly crafting tunes for beings who don’t trouble themselves with melody, or rhythm, or lyricism, or stuff that sounds good.
Basically he’s Diet Daddy, Daddy Lite, Daddy Zero: what would be left if you carved away anything that makes the man himself interesting or charming or occasionally useful. It says something when even our fearless leader thinks you have an overly inflated image of yourself. And this asshole? Definitely deluded.
The other side of the coin is Artemis, who clearly hogged all the good characteristics from that ill-advised pairing. Not that I blame her, of course, it was a pretty fucking boss move. She’s got focus, she’s got honor, she’s got that weird virginity cult—and most importantly for Papa, she entered the family as a fully formed goddess! She pulled an Athena and did what the old man appreciates most in a daughter: she required zero effort on his part.
That leads us to baby Hebe, of course. Is she adorable? Yep. Is she pointless? Yep. I’m sure she’s the Goddess of Something , but dear Gaia, of what? She’s such a pallid, spineless copy of Hera that her whole relationship with Daddy just screams Electra complex. No wonder she’s still in his good books.
Speaking of Electra complexes, I don’t even know where to start with the be-damned nymphs, demigods, heroes, and other assorted relations cluttering up the family tree. I spent that whole decade in the mortal realm very carefully not figuring out who was a half-sister, or a half-niece, or the offputtingly common combo of half-sister-niece, thanks though.
(Why do they keep fucking him?? I mean, I understand the whole uneven power dynamic thing, and gross as it is, the whole sexual attraction thing, but then every single nymph seems so shocked when she's tossed aside like yesterday’s dirty chitons. They’re a good labor force, I guess, handy to have around when you’re trapped in a capriciously ridiculous punishment, but otherwise, I just don’t get it.)
Finally we’ve come to me! Eris! Goddess of Discord! Here at your service! Or here to serve you, same difference.
Everyone acts like wrath is such a bad thing, like discord is suuuch a bad thing. But when beings stop being polite and start getting real, you’ll notice we've all got those nasty urges tucked deep inside. The lies, the gossip, the backstabbing. Living in a calm, peaceful, uneventful society for eternity—eternity—would be a punishment, not a blessing.
Think about it. Think how many supposedly upstanding citizens love to stir the pot. Aphrodite and Eros drugging innocent little baby goddesses and trafficking them across borders for their own entertainment. Hera disguising herself as other beings in search of that really hot goss. Hecate, who won’t shut up about her whole “inherent need for chaos,” like that’s something unique only she feels. Hephaestus, who I can only assume is constantly surveilling us all via his purposefully-addictive technology. Demeter bribing any being within a dolichos whenever her persecution complex and her sense of moral superiority collide. Ares putting all three of his brain cells towards jumping the courtship line and locking down Persephone for himself. And I feel pretty charitable towards that particular fury-filled flower these days, but remember, Persephone was weaving her own web of lies and deception before it came crashing down on her.
Looking back, I should have known she and I would get along so well. That blessing was one of my best decisions ever.
But I’m getting off track. Because when it comes to causing discord, big purple and his two dumbass broskis are the worst of them all.
Want to talk acts of wrath? These three are always smiting the mortals. Crushing them with tidal waves, frying them with lightning, vaporizing them with volcanoes. Earthquakes, plagues, fires, wars, not to mention fucking with their feeble attempts at forming stable city-states and constantly debauching their daughters and sons. And if you think they file the proper permits ahead of time, you might also be interested in this beautiful bridge to Atlantis I just put on the market.
It’s not just mortals, either. Everyone is at their mercy. His mercy. He is the worst of them all.
Step out of line? Hope you enjoy impossible tasks, an eternity of servitude, and/or having vital body parts gouged out on the reg.
Come of age when there’s a business deal on the line? Meet your mandatory new husband—because, and it’s so weird, he only seems to assign young, nubile goddesses to older gods as a standard part of contract negotiations!
Just generally being too much of a pain in the ass? Have your powers, you know, the very core of yourself, yanked with no warning. Get kicked out of the house. Get kicked out of the family.
It’s pretty shitty, is what I’m saying. But once again, it’s not my fault Zeus keeps having kids he doesn’t know what to do with. Because none of us sprang up out of nowhere. (Even Athena came out of that stupid purple head.) We all reflect some facet of the being himself. Some of us lucked into more maternal influence than others, but our very natures come from him.
Cunning Athena, battle-mongering Ares, creative Hephaestus, Apollo the fucking dumbass, fierce Artemis, vain Hebe. And don’t forget wrathful, discordant, vengeful Eris.
Where does he think any of us got it? We learned it from watching you, Dad!
And no matter how strong his self-hatred, no matter how little he cares for what he sees reflected in my face, I know we are both truly blessed with our anger. We’d all be so much dust beneath Kronos’ feet without that constant fire simmering in my father’s veins. He can deny it as much as he likes. It’s still obviously the truth.
I may be the Goddess of Discord, of wrath, etc etc, but I came by it honestly enough. It's all from the man upstairs.