ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ. 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 ���𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.

ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʟʏᴍᴘᴜꜱ : ᴀ 21+ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝝂𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 – 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝝂𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

they called it an offering, and zeus had always been a glutton for those, especially when it was all wrapped up with a bow and delivered by someone devastatingly beautiful. an offering, an apology from prometheus for his misdeeds, overdue penance to the one true god of all gods. she’d memorized the script, smiled and breezed her way through the offering, and all that was left was for zeus to take the bait and open the box.nothing quite like honey, or a pretty smile, to catch the proverbial fly, after all. and in the deepest corner of hades, the shackles of cronus, the once and future king, came loose. second chances, after all, are not given to make things right, but to make things even. and what was just a little more waiting, when he had already sat chained in the pit in breathless anticipation for millenia? utterly meaningless, not unlike his promises of his progeny and their better selves. he would sit, and wait, and watch as his beloved children, for all their base selfishness, tore themselves apart in the name of ambition, pride, and greed. athens, new york: an island city, all trees and marble, glass and steel and highrises set against an ocean skyline. bustling and loud, crowded, but not without a bizarre sense that it must have sprung up overnight, somehow, when surely it must have always been here, no? on a clear night, you might even be able to see the lights of its more famous cousin, new york city, across the water…if you squint hard enough. it may not get as much attention as the shiny apple across the hudson, but those not so blinded by the lights must certainly have been coming here for years. is there something in the water here, too? no one leaves, not in any meaningful way anyway. feels like it has a special way of pulling you back in, if you try. they, that is anyone who was anyone or paid even an iota of attention to the evening news, called him the minotaur. the media does love a catchy nom de guerre, doesn’t it? sells newspapers like hotcakes in the morning. ambrosia, whether it’s the latest designer drug trend or the latest pestilence sweeping the streets of athens, just depends on how tightly you clutch your pearls on sundays. must infuriate the police, don’t it? that without fail, by the time they arrive to any crime scene at all, all that’s left is the heap of little cream-coloured business cards, the red lines of a labyrinthine logo more taunting than they are helpful. between an epidemic of pearlescent powder, neatly parceled out in small plastic baggies, a tide of crimson bull graffiti, casinos and bordellos and the nightlife (oh my!), it’s no small wonder they call this an atlantic sin city. it’s a vice eat dog world, ain’t it? and anyone who calls athens home is just living in it. powerless, with no memory of their past lives, what's a god gotta do to survive? what is brave new olympus? a crime-focused take on the greek gods, demigods and heroes we know and love, loosely inspired by once upon a time, set in the human world and modern age. we call athens, new york, home: a fictional island city across the bight from the boroughs of its more famous cousin, the big apple.