HestiaTheHearth

Madeline_Madelist

Oi oi, hot stuff, need me to offer ya up any help~?

The home, where the heart is; that is Hestia's entire domain. Even invoking her name evokes imagery of a crackling hearth, the tenderness of a home cooked meal giving way at the will of a tongue that has been longing to feel a return to what once was. The very idea feels warm, tingly, inviting.

To a degree, Hestia herself is that sort of figure, offering her warmth to those she deems worthy, and she ain't particularly picky about who gets that designation. She's exactly the type to offer you a meal just because you look a little too thin around the waist, and your dear great auntie just can't have THAT, now can she~? To some, that is her entire lot.

To others, they recognize that home needs a degree of protection...and what better way to protect the home than face the world with a raging firepower? When even so much as rubbed the wrong way, Hestia will laugh from the belly as she brandishes what can be most tacitly described as a hand cannon, one that helped her weather the blistering war of the Titanomachy. Given the right reason, she will crack down on someone who she thinks is doing wrong — or is even just a little bit of a jackass — with the searing fires befitting that of an inferno borne of the ever-flowing Phelgethon.

Hestia, as most gods and goddesses do, has her very own particular way she likes to go about this protection, most often. If there is someone or something that poses a genuine threat to her domain, she much prefers to eliminate threats by, ah...using them as ingredients in a home-cooked meal. She's the goddess of the hearth, after all; being keen with flame just begets that sort of result, all she's doing when she cracks out the herbs and spices is taking time to enjoy the fruits of her labor...even if they scream a little bit too much. Shouldn't have come for great auntie Hestia, now should'ja, babe?

That said, cooking implies that there are hearty portions that are worth sharing, and while in some cases and with some targets, Hestia is entirely willing to break off a piece and share the love...there are just some sorts that she can't help but be a greedy-gutted glutton about. In service to this, she might scare them with a light simmer up front at most, but if she TRULY wants to keep them to herself, she'll cram em down any way she can fit em~ Usually this is most convenient with her mouth, but just as often she'll hike up her dress and cram them between her cheeks, dunking them right into the GNAWING warmth of her colon walls.

In a way, this might be the worst way to fall to Hestia, as being a bit on the elderly side, her guts are more of a slow-cooker than anything else...meaning that if someone plops into there alive, it's no telling just how long they can feel themselves becoming slop in Hestia's chunky, burbling furnace of a gut. Watching the days and the nights pass by, a stuffed and happy Hestia enjoying her meal...and some poor soul is just churning down into nothing. It's quite the thing to imagine, isn't it~? But...perhaps she just keeps it to the hostile ones...

She absolutely doesn't.

Anyone cute, anyone that humors her, anyone that she FEELS like belongs in her guts, she takes to them like nothing else. Offers them warmth, offers them comfort, perhaps teases them quite a bit, just like a great auntie should...and then, once their guard is not just down but completely GONE, down the gullet they go.

It's not like Hestia isn't wise to what happens to whoever's in her innards, oh no. She is perhaps entirely TOO wise to it, pleasant to inform whoever's wiggling around in her guts that they're going to be fueling the next trip to a latrine. Baking, she calls it, knowingly evoking the swarthy, fudgy browns that word might conjure in a mind.

Letting them know that all that's going to be left of their body...

All that their entire existence has lead up to.

Every smile, every shared laugh, every tear shed in common. From honors to disgraces.

Even achievements of COSMIC importance.

All of that, when nestled in great auntie Hestia's guts, amounts to nothing more then some gut-twisting gas and a thick, pleasant bowel movement. Nothing more, nothing less.

And, well, you'd best hope that's where your story ends with her...

...because who knows how firery she gets when you're still thinking as you're wiggling on her body~?

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Events!

Nothing yet! Who knows...you might be the first~?


Ideas!

1. Hestia has been weary from her travels in search of somewhere to put the hearth down lately, and she ends up needing some food...all the while a traveler stumbles upon a gift of Hestia, one which tells her to come over right away.~

2. Hestia is craving something home-cooked, and a particularly divine looking cutie makes her fire up the hearth.~

3. You find yourself in a Trial of the Gods between another Olympian and Hestia, and you've made the wrong decision on who to scorn...

4. A certain hot stuff finds herself beginning her quest to fight the Titan of Time with a visit from Hestia...one which ends with a very fed and happy Hestia, and a churning Mel.~

5. Hestia needs a spot of fun in her eternal life, so she takes after the wandering Dionysus and decides it's high time for her to play the role of goddess of the feast, stuffing herself silly and leaving not a single space unpacked in her guts.~