#domestic deities

[lokinewbiewitchy]

When I lose something in the house, I always ask Loki to help me find it. Things can turn up in peculiar places.

I LOVE your comparison to a Norwegian Forest cat!!

Does Loki in any way has connection to home? Like, He is for me, beside change and joy part, feels like a home Deity, maybe in a same way as Brigit and Hestia.

Does this feeling has any historical/folklore confirmation? Thank you in advance.

Yes actually! Before he became known for his escapades with Odin and Thor, Loki started off as a domestic spirit that was thought to live by or beneath the best part of the Nordic house—the hearth.

Naturally, he had the same sneaky proclivities as a domestic spirit that he has now as a deity, so while Hestia and Brigid are more associated with homemaking and family, Loki's more about that home mischief. He's the force that tangles your knitting and burns your cookies. But that's only because he likes being involved, not because he wants to upset people's lives.

Bit of UPG here, but Loki's energy as a house spirit very much reminds me of a Norwegian forest cat's: Big, friendly, makes great company, manifests at the sound of a can opening, screams when bored, gets zoomies at 3am, disappears into the wilderness for days on end only to return as though he never left. Has kittens sometimes.

Like, there's a reason why people kept Loki around rather than chasing him out for being a menace. He's a belovéd menace.

[serpentface]

A typical example of a kulimane hunting dog, a prized animal in Imperial Wardin. They represent the most positive feelings towards dogs in this cultural sphere, an animal that otherwise has an often ambiguous or even disdained status.

Kulimane are the 'hybrid' offspring of domesticated sighthound breeds and the kuliku (colloquially called 'salt wolves'). Kuliku are not actual wolves, but rather the feral descendants of VERY ancient domesticated dogs that have been living wild for millennia in grassland, savannahs, and semi-desert, and are fully functional and efficient predators. Kuliku have slender builds, huge lungs, and long legs, and use bursts of tremendous speed to chase down prey. They mostly take small game, like rabbits, hares, birds, and hippegalga, though pairs are capable of bringing down mid-sized ungulates. They do not readily mate with fully domesticated dogs, but can be encouraged to do so in captivity, thus producing the kulimane.

The production of kulimane was introduced by the third Burri empire and has been fully adopted into contemporary Imperial Wardin. Kulimane are commonly seen as the best and most ideal of hunting dogs, combining the speed, power, and heat resistance and predatory instincts of their wild parents, and the loyalty and tameness, and other bred-in qualities of their sighthound parents. In practice, most Kulimane used in hunting will have been the product of several generations of breeding to produce an ideal animal (initial 'hybrid' generations are often still too wild). Their appearance can vary wildly, but the ideal form for a kulimane is to have a domestic-type coat (fully solid colors are preferred, but rare) and to retain the pointed ears and black tail tip of their wild ancestors.

Most kulimane are independent, intelligent animals that will form close and protective bonds with their handlers, but will be shy and wary of strangers. They usually retain strong territorial instincts from their wild ancestors, and can double as excellent guard dogs. Their disposition towards other dogs can vary- a well socialized kulimane can usually be introduced to new dogs with few issues, but some have striking tendencies to aggression towards strange dogs, and are often muzzled in public. Most are kept in same-sex sibling pairs, and away from unfamiliar or unrelated dogs. They are rarely outright cuddly, often preferring to sit at a distance than to sit on one's lap, but are appreciative of praise and affection from their owners.

Well trained kulimane make for truly excellent sighthounds. They can quickly adapt to changing situations in the field with little to no input from handlers, and quickly and instinctively dispatch most small prey. Their high prey drives Can be a problem for owners. They are frequently known to kill livestock and sacrificial stock, and have a tendency towards surplus killing. You don't want a kulimane to get in with your poultry.

Good kulimane stock is very difficult to produce and takes several generations of breeding, and the animals can be very costly to maintain and keep in good hunting conditions. As such they are VERY expensive animals, and function as status symbols. Sighthounds in of themselves have associations with wealth, and kulimane are specifically associated with royalty and the social elite. They represent the most venerated and beloved end of a very, very wide spectrum of cultural opinions towards dogs in the Imperial Wardi sphere.

The status of dogs in the cultural schema mostly depends on their perceived role. Working dogs tend to have positive cultural connotations- guard dogs and especially hunting dogs are seen as noble animals and symbols of loyalty, and herding and livestock guardian dogs are of great practical value in the rural sphere. Keeping dogs for pure companionship is fairly uncommon, though there are a few established companion breeds in the region. The practice of raising livestock dog breeds has decreased or become obsolete in parts of the region, largely due to Burri influence (which regards the meat of predators and scavengers as wholly unsuitable for consumption), but meat specific breeds like the salutachin are still valued in the city-state of Wardin as providers of an excellent, delicacy meat. The commonality between all valued dogs in Imperial Wardin is their utility, well-established roles, and sharp distinction from feral dogs.

Feral dogs are a fact of life around most settlements. Imperial Wardi cultural outlooks on them tend to be highly negative, characterizing these as uniquely greedy, cowardly, lowly pest animals at best and depraved corpse eaters at worst. Exact attitudes vary throughout the Imperial Wardi cultural sphere, but one near-ubiquitous element is regarding the excrement of feral dogs (and corpses of feral dogs) as potent sources of spiritual pollution that should never be touched with bare skin, and should ideally be removed and buried in barren ground (or their polluting influence should at least be mitigated with a blessing of the tainted location). Superstition holds that stepping in the feces of feral dogs can inflict curses, and the word for 'dogshit' is one of the most insulting terms available in the language.

Hatred of feral dogs is particularly acute in the city-state of Godsmouth. The core city experienced a collective cultural trauma as a result of a siege during the formation of the Wardi empire, in which civilians starved en-masse and descriptions of bodies being eaten in the streets by feral dogs (which were, in turn, eaten by starving civilians) dominate historical records of the event. Feral dogs are by and large hated in this part of the region and seen as outright vile animals and acute sources of spiritual pollution via their very presence. They are actively culled on a routine basis. The outskirts of the city of Godsmouth and some of the city-state's towns have unique practices of allowing semi-tame hyenas free movement through settlements, where they fulfill the dogs' function as refuse cleaners and keep dog populations in check.

While the keeping of feral dogs is generally frowned upon throughout the region, individuals caring for their local feral populations or adopting feral puppies is not unknown, and the distinction between feral and kept dogs (and stigma towards the former) is MUCH less pronounced in many rural communities, where semi-feral dogs may be valued as likable or useful village animals.

No dog breeds are standardized (or even technically 'breeds' in any modern sense), but there is usually great effort to keep working, livestock, and companion dog stocks wholly separate from feral dogs. The word that roughly means ‘mutt’ in this language does not refer to mixed dog breeds as a whole (or even crosses between different types of working dog), but specifically crosses between kept breeds and feral dogs, which is generally regarded as unfavorable (though not uncommon, both due to inevitability in a world without spaying, and practicality- these crosses may produce perfectly good working or companion dogs, and introduction of feral stock reduces inbreeding).

The dog is one of the constellations in the Wardi zodiac, found at the heel of the Hunter constellation and variously interpreted as either being a noble hunting dog trailing its master, or a lowly scavenger looking for scraps. The latter characterization tends to win out in terms of the characterization of its associated birthsign. Being born under the sign of the dog is mostly regarded as inauspicious, and a potential indication of a cowardly, stupid, lustful, and greedy character (though some positive qualities are ascribed, chiefly loyalty).

‘Chinops’ (literally ‘dog-born’) refers neutrally to the dog birth sign, while ‘chinmachen’ (‘dog-faced’) is an epithet given to those considered to have the associated personality traits, which is rarely anything BUT an insult. (These also spawn the purely derogatory phrases of ‘chisnops’, ‘chismachen’, and ‘chismache’, which have functional meanings closest to ‘son of a bitch’ ‘bitch/slut’ and ‘cunt’ respectively)

[kyprigeneia]

the cure for loneliness is sitting in a peaceful spot, lighting a little candle and inviting a deity you love to join you

[edwinisms]

we all know the cat king is probably at least esther’s age (probably roughly 165-175 based on oregon/washington’s history), but have we ever stopped to think about monty? like yeah as a human boy he was literally only days old, but as an entity in general? who knows when esther conjured him, but it probably wasn’t any time close to the present. so monty is technically, probably older than at least charles, and quite possibly edwin as well. who knows how many decades this corvid has seen

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.

content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.

warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.

notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?

i'll eat them. omnom

LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.

When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.

(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)

(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)

It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.

Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.

He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.

Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).

What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.

When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.

(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)

(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)

A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.

He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.

During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.

The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.

He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.

The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.

You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.

You'd already given him a large snack earlier.

The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.

He takes a bite of it gratefully.

"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."

You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.

"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.

"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"

Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.

He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.

He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.

Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.

You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)

Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.

He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.

Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.

ARAM is often humbled in your abode.

He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.

He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).

Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.

He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.

Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.

("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."

(You never had the heart to ask again.)

He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.

His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.

It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.

It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.

When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.

He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.

He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.

Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.

The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.

He craves more.

The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.

Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.

He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.

You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.

He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.

You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.

"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"

He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.

He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.

(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)

(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)

Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.

You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."

"Did I look ill before?"

You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.

The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.

"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."

And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.

He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."

[daddysroyalwhore]

“Call me when they bury bodies underwater

It's blue light over murder for me

Crumble like a temple built from future daughters

To wasteland when the oceans recede”

[kheprriverse]

Not quite sure if you were looking more for art requests or a participation idea like an ask game regarding the follower milestone suggestions.... But if you are taking an art suggestion, I think a cute Baljin kiss would be lovely. Love those dudes and all your artwork!

tbh.. me neither! Basically looking for whatever comes to mind for some; could be asks ab the au, general requests/suggestions, or an ask game suggestion like you mentioned. idm either way :)

Had to stop what i was drawing originally today and work on this instantly because I loooovve drawing these two so much! I'll always take the opportunity to doodle em.

Didn't spend as much time on them as I usually do so I hope its up to par with their other doodles

Also thank you sm!

[home-fire]

an archeological hymn to Hestia

Before foundations were laid below you or roof raised above you, you were;

Before stones were marked out to hold you, or chimney and fireplace covered you, you were;

Before the shelter of walls embraced you, center of the home as yet unbuilt, you were;

Within the unwitting spark of tinder, the fragile ember, within the first primordial fire, you were;

The telltale sign of human presence-- that which made man into mankind, noble Hestia, you were;

The light that lit our way, the warmth that preserved us, tool and weapon and giver of food, you were;

The ritual heart, the circle center, the primal stage of ancient tales, you were;

Tender, keeper, bonder of bonds, bringer of shelter, guider and guardian of the human race,

From our infancy, great Hestia, you were-- ever have been, ever will be-- and ever shall you be deserving of praise.

[deityoftherain]

honeybees, i'm home - Jizztho Traffic Life Superpowers AU

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Mutli, Other (Polyam Jizztho Fic)

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 3,924

Summary: For the most part, Etho loved their life. Their job as a hero could be entertaining sometimes and their domestic, civilian life with their husband and wife contained some of the favorite moments they've ever experienced. Despite their deep affection for their partners, Etho was forced to grapple with the inability to kiss them due to their dangerous ability. They expressed their love and care in other ways, but that desire still lingered in the back of their mind...

This fic is standalone, but click here to read the whole AU on AO3

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

As much as Etho valued their job as a hero, they preferred their time as a civilian. Being a hero had its perks and times of excitement, but Slab- their alter ego’s name- wasn’t the one who got to do the stuff that made life worth it. Etho was the one who went canoeing with Joel on sunny days. Etho was the one participating in month-long tournaments of competitive couponing against Lizzie. Etho was the one enjoying the life they earned because of their work as Slab.

Unfortunately for them, today had not been a day where they could live as a civilian. It was a work kind of day, full of patrols and wasting away in the lab section of the Traffic City Hero Agency.

The patrols were interesting, at the very least. Etho had been able to stop and arrest a group of rookie thieves that robbed a jewelry store. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it was better than sitting in a lab while the scientists tested and observed their spit.

Etho’s spit was toxic at varying levels. With focus and after a lot of practice, Etho had become skilled in controlling the concentration of toxins in their saliva and determining their effects. Without that focus, however, the toxins acted unpredictably, doing as they pleased.

That fact was the reason why they always wore a mask over their mouth as both a hero and a civilian, and why they never ate around other people. They barely felt comfortable making an exception for their spouses while in the privacy of their own home! There was always a chance that they would accidentally poison someone. Even if it wasn’t a lethal dose, Etho didn’t want to be responsible for causing an innocent person harm, especially when that innocent person was someone so close to them.

Hanging around in the lab was the last item on their agenda before they could go home. Once the scientists collected all they needed from them, Etho wasted no time in leaving. It was safe to say that they didn’t need to be told twice.

Etho arrived at the two-story house they shared with their hero partners, who also happen to be their husband and their wife. They were a team at work and while at home, each doing tasks to support each other. This structure worked well for them and Etho would always feel lucky to be a part of it, even when they felt as if they weren’t enough for them sometimes.

It wasn’t Lizzie or Joel’s fault, but some of Etho’s own insecurities lingering from their childhood. Their upbringing hadn’t been the most supportive or friendly, but they did their best to conceal the deep wounds and scars left by it.

While they had grown confident in their abilities, doubts still hovered. The mind wasn’t always kind, but therapy and loving, tenderhearted words from their spouses greatly aided in combating such thoughts.

“Honeybees, I’m home!” Etho called to complete the ritual as they entered the house and slipped off their shoes. 

The ritual had been started by Lizzie and continued by both Etho and Joel. It was the phrase they all used when announcing their arrival home. They would sometimes use it even when they were all walking in together! It was a play off of “Honey, I’m home!” but using their shared last name instead. 

When the three of them were engaged, there was some talk about what they would do with their last names. They wanted to share one instead of all of them keeping their own last name so there had been a lot to talk about and consider. After some discussion, they decided to take on Lizzie’s last name, hence “Honeybee”.

“Etho! Welcome home!” Lizzie greeted, though she sounded a lot more panicked than glad to see them. “Uhhh, don’t come to the kitchen. No reason why, just, busy! Stay there and- ah!”

Etho raised an eyebrow at Lizzie’s commotion. When they heard something drop on the floor, they decided to break the order and make their way toward the kitchen. When they turned the corner, they understood why Lizzie didn’t want them to come near.

The kitchen was a mess. Ingredient containers were scattered all over the counters, dirty bowls and spoons stacked up in the sink, something smelled burnt, the microwave door was still open from melting butter, and flour coated Lizzie and part of the floor.

When they made eye contact, Lizzie simply gave them a guilty, “I know I made a mess” smile and Etho responded with a light chuckle. “Would you like help cleaning up?” “Yes, please.” Lizzie let out a breath as her shoulders and fairy wings relaxed from their previously stiffened position. “I was trying to finish this cake before you and Joel got back, but I got distracted and burnt the first cake so then I had to start another one, it’s in the oven, but I made a mess and…”

Etho had expected her to say more, but she just gestured hopelessly at the chaos around them. They walked around the kitchen island to give her a hug, ignoring the flour that got on them as well, and pressed a brief “kiss” against her forehead. It wasn’t a proper kiss because of their mask (they wouldn’t have gotten this close without it) but the clothed kiss simulated the intent behind it.

“If you sweep, I’ll get started on the dishes,” Etho offered, knowing Lizzie’s distaste for it. She enjoyed baking, but she (understandably) didn’t enjoy the clean up as much, especially the dish washing. Etho often took on that chore as a labor of love for her. 

“Deal,” Lizzie agreed, going to grab the broom from its spot in the pantry.

As they started to clean, Etho remembered Lizzie’s previous comment and noticed the distinct lack of their husband from the downstairs area. Because of that remembrance, they asked, “Did the agency call Joel in too?” “Mhm,” Lizzie confirmed as she crouched down to sweep the flour into the dustpan. “They called for him a few hours ago. I assumed he was being called in to help you but, when you came home without him, I figured they needed him for something else. I doubt they’ll keep him out for much longer, so we should hurry up!”

By the time all of the dishes were washed and air drying on the drying rack, the cake’s timer went off. Lizzie opened the oven with one hand, using her other one to grab the fork she had set aside to see if the cake was done. She stabbed its middle with the fork’s prongs before pulling it out and announcing, “It’s done! And not burnt this time!”

“Good job,” Etho praised her as she pulled the cake out of the oven. They took the fork from her to wash and, once the cake was placed on the cooling rack, they took the cake pan as well. “Go change, maybe take a shower to get the flour out of your hair, and I’ll finish up here. There isn’t much left.” “Really? Thank you!” Lizzie’s blue eyes lit up beautifully, as they often do. She practically bounced over to them and gave them a quick, from-behind hug before running up the stairs to her bedroom.

They were well off financially, which was a given considering they lived off of three heroes salaries, and their housing situation reflected that. Their upstairs level had three bedrooms, one for each of the spouses. It was so they could have their own spaces to decorate, have their desk setups, and to hang out alone in if they so chose to. One might think that it unnecessarily separated them and caused distance within their marriage, but they usually (more often than not) ended up having “sleepovers” in each other's beds. Even then, that was assuming they didn’t pass out, cuddled together in front of the television after another long shift.

Once Etho finished restoring the kitchen to what it looked like before Lizzie started baking, they went up to their own bedroom to gather clothes for a quick shower. They took extremely short showers, especially compared to the length of time Lizzie and Joel would spend when taking theirs. Those two could use the entirety of the warm water tank on one shower if you let them and they weren’t trying to rush themselves.

Etho had gotten themself cleaned and downstairs before Lizzie was out of the shower. While waiting for her, they put the cake in the fridge to cool down the rest of the way so Lizzie could put frosting on it before she went to bed if she wanted to. Etho sat down on the couch and opened the book they had sitting on the side table, waiting for Lizzie. About forty minutes after Lizzie joined them to read her own book, Joel entered the house and whined, “Honeybees, I’m home and I’ve molted!”

Lizzie and Etho exchanged a look, knowing what that entailed all too well. Joel was a bug hybrid and his skin acted sort of like an exoskeleton or body armor. When he took too much damage, he would literally molt it off so the undamaged skin underneath could protect him instead. Unfortunately for him, the skin underneath was not instantly battle-worthy and it took several days to harden appropriately. The exact length differed depending on a multitude of factors, such as nutrient intake, energy levels, and how much damage he had taken.

“My skin is all soft and mushy,” Joel continued to complain, sounding much like he wanted to cry but was trying not to. They had done this enough times with him that they didn’t even bother to remind him that most people’s skin was soft and squishy.

“Oh, come here, love,” Lizzie bookmarked her book with a scrap piece of paper before beckoning Joel to cuddle up against her. Joel, ever so careful, sat down next to Lizzie and leaned into her. She wrapped her arm, along with the fluffy blanket she also had, around him. “I know, it doesn’t feel good. I don’t like when I’m on my period either.”

“It’s not a period,” Joel denied weakly but his efforts were in vain. His mood right after molting was as stable, if not worse, than Lizzie’s when her period was really getting to her. Lizzie had made that joke early on in their relationship and it stuck as the term Lizzie and Etho used to refer to his current state.

“There’s no shame in having a period, Joel.” Lizzie smiled fondly at her husband as he grumbled nonsense words in response and curled up tighter against her. She brushed some of his hair out of his face so it wasn’t in his eyes.

“I’ll turn up the heat a few degrees.” Etho went to go do as they said they would, wanting to be useful as Lizzie comforted Joel. Warm places helped Joel feel more comfortable when on his period. 

What else helped? Etho silently ran through their mental list to make note of what else they should do for him. Lots of water and nutrients shortened the length of the period, though, when Lizzie was on her period, she appreciated chocolate, heating pads, pain medication, and tea. 

Joel didn’t experience cramps or pain in a concentrated spot, so a blanket could be more useful and provide broader coverage compared to a heating pad. Pain medication didn’t effectively alleviate his discomfort because it was a different type of pain. However, chocolate and tea could improve his mood. As for nutrients and water, they could be addressed later assuming he had a good lunch earlier. Etho would have to check the pantry to see what chocolate and tea options were available, but he knew they had some.

“No.” Joel stopped Etho in their tracks at the word as he shook his head. Etho raised an eyebrow in question of his refusal. “It’s warm enough in here. I don’t want it to be too warm or you two will get too hot.”

Etho nodded slowly. Okay, that made sense. “Would you like something else instead? Any comfort foods? Something to drink? Another blanket?”

“Kisses,” Joel answered very matter-of-factly. He stared at Etho, his brown eyes seemingly (definitely) pleading with them. Void, it was always hard to say no to him. “Kisses would make me feel better. And not the chocolate ones.”

“Uh,” Etho hesitated dumbly, not sure what to do in response. They had purposely stayed away from properly kissing either of their spouses the entirety of their relationship. Each time one of them asked, they would turn it down or find a way to distract them. This time, they decided to divert it with a masked kiss on the forehead, near-identical to what they gave Lizzie earlier. “Lizzie can give you the other kisses while I go get you food. Would you like anything in particular to eat?”

“Etho hasn’t told us that they are ready for that yet, love,” Lizzie reminded Joel but she glanced at Etho anyway, “but they know that we would be more than willing if they wanted to try.”

Etho was grateful for the face mask if only because it hid their blush. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to, but it was because they couldn’t. Their saliva had the potential to kill them and Etho didn’t want to lose them, especially not in such a dreadful and preventable way.

Instead of saying anything, they stayed silent. Etho settled down on the other couch and watched as their spouses lovingly kissed each other. It was nice to see them engage in that form of intimacy, even if Etho could never experience what it was like. Sure, Etho was curious, but they could (would have to) be okay knowing that Joel and Lizzie had each other to experience it with each other.

Joel grinned like a giddy child on Christmas morning as his kiss with Lizzie broke. His grin stayed but morphed into a slightly more cocky one as he turned to Etho. “Not that I blame you for staring, seeing that I’m insanely attractive and handsome, and that she’s basically a goddess, but you could join in.”

“I can’t-” Etho started, but they struggled to find the words. Their face flushed like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have, but that wasn’t true. Lizzie and Joel had both told them time and time again that it was okay to exist around them, even when they were kissing each other. They had said it was up to Etho’s comfort levels and that Etho didn’t have to leave the room whenever they got handsy with each other if they were okay with being there.

“Can’t or won’t?” Joel challenged, narrowing his eyes.

“Joel, don’t press them,” Lizzie tried to get Joel to back down, but Joel had his target set on Etho.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Joel shifted his attention to Lizzie, but he gestured towards Etho. “They won’t kiss us because they’re scared of their ability. They clearly want to, but they’re pushing us away. Are we just going to wait around until they finally get over themselves? We’re blummin’ married and I can’t even kiss them- not because they don’t want to, but because they’ve decided they’re ‘too dangerous’ or whatever excuse it is this time.”

“I am dangerous.” Etho insisted as they rose to their feet, not appreciating that dismissal. Did they truly not understand the risks? “I could kill you.” “Or you could not. You can control it when you’re paying attention.” Joel detached himself from Lizzie to stand up with them, the green antennas on his head twitching.

“Plus, we have antidotes if something goes wrong, which it won’t,” Lizzie contributed. Etho knew she also wanted what Joel did but she was much more willing to wait it out than Joel was. Joel tended to dive head first into everything he did, not afraid of a challenge, while Lizzie at least tried to have a plan and stick with it, though she was not always successful and some of her plans were overzealous.

“Yes, what Lizzie said.” Joel crossed the room to where Etho was standing and shoved them back down to the couch, not that Etho resisted. He climbed onto their lap and gripped Etho’s collar. Joel leaned forward to whisper in Etho’s ear, “If you really want me to stop, say something, or push me away, but you don’t have to. I trust you and Lizzie trusts you. I don’t understand why you’re still scared.”

Etho’s heart thumped loudly in their chest, but they didn’t push Joel away nor did they tell Joel to stop. Joel had waited several heartbeats, his breath hot against Etho’s ear. When Etho continued not to push away, Joel pressed a kiss against their ear before using his teeth to detach the band holding the mask in place on the left side of their head. The mask dropped, now only hanging off of their right ear, as Joel trailed down to pepper kisses on their neck.

“Joel,” Etho tried to bite back a moan, despite how much they wanted it. Their spouses had seen them without their mask before, which meant they were aware of their pointed teeth and freakishly long tongue, so that wasn’t why Etho was hesitant. Their saliva was still the main concern, screaming loudly and blaring warning alarms in Etho’s mind.

“I want to kiss you, Etho, and you want to kiss me.” Joel pulled away just enough to look them in the eyes wanting to prove to them that he meant it. “You’re not making me do anything. You are not tricking me. I understand the blummin’ risks but I trust you and I love you. What else do you need?”

You. Etho didn’t bother to answer aloud as they closed the gap between themself and Joel, initiating their first lip-locked kiss. Joel buffered for a split-second, not expecting it at that exact moment, before reciprocating with much more energy and fire behind it than he had with the kisses against Etho’s neck. 

Etho wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but they found that they enjoyed the sensation more than they thought they might. When they finally separated, Joel started to giggle in a much higher tone than he ever really did. “That was hot.”

Panic overtook Etho as their earlier anxieties came back to them. Had they poisoned Joel? They meant to control it the whole time, but they stopped focusing on it soon after they started. “Are you okay?” “He’s okay,” Lizzie promised, walking over to sit next to them. She had grown familiar with their saliva’s effects, spending a lot of time looking over the lab results the Traffic City Hero Agency gathered. Honestly, she may know more about their own ability then they themself did. “You just made him really happy, yes, with your ability, but mostly because he’s been wanting to kiss you forever.” Etho didn’t respond to her comforting words, but they nonverbally accepted the explanation. They knew all of that and Joel did look stupidly happy. It was silly to observe, of course, but also sort of adorable and charming.

Joel climbed off of Etho’s lap to give them space, stepping and spinning until he was close  enough to plop down on the other couch with the fuzzy blanket. He curled it around himself, boasting proudly, “I got to kiss my gorgeous wife and my gorgeous spouse! I’m the luckiest man ever.”

“Even though you’re on your period?” Lizzie asked lightheartedly, not used to seeing him this happy this soon after it started and wanting to enjoy it. Joel was usually a lot more clingy and whiny the first day as he got used to having softer skin again.

“I can be lucky and on my period, babe.” That was Joel’s version of an answer, though his words were mostly muttered as his eyes fluttered closed. It made sense that he would be tired, considering he had gotten hurt enough at work that he had to molt. Joel proved that he wasn’t tired enough to sleep though when he kept talking. “Hot men get periods.”

“I never said they don’t,” Lizzie replied fondly before promptly getting distracted by Etho unhooking their mask and placing it on the side table. “Do you not want to wear your mask anymore?”

“Not right now. I will put it back on later, though.” The mask was a comfort, even if it didn’t have a practical reason attached to it. Etho reached forward to cup Lizzie’s face, but they chickened out. Instead of holding her face, they diverted the motion to tuck some of her pink hair behind her ear. “Lizzie, can I…?”

“Can you…?” Lizzie prompted with a sort of bashful tone to her voice. Etho wasn’t sure if they had placed the emotion correctly, but they didn’t dwell on it.

Etho took a deep breath, hyping themself up in their own head, before committing to cupping Lizzie’s face this time. “Lizzie, can I kiss you?”

“Of course you can, you idiot.” Lizzie’s insult didn’t wound them because they knew she didn’t mean it negatively and, even if she did, they likely deserved it. “And, before you tell yourself otherwise, remember what I have told you many times before: I love you, I trust you, and I know you would never hurt me on purpose. Joel and I both know that and we both care deeply for you. We wouldn’t have married you otherwise. At least, I wouldn’t have.”

Much more confident in their ability to kiss without hurting their partner this time, Etho initiated it without any more hesitations. Lizzie’s lips were soft and she tasted sweet, sort of like cake. She must have eaten some of the cake batter that she had made earlier that afternoon. Lizzie smelled just like the shower products they had gotten a coupon for awhile back. It suited her well; maybe they should get that brand again. Etho would have to look out for another coupon for the shower products to surprise her with it. She would be excited if they could find one.

When they broke from the kiss, Lizzie was also grinning from ear to ear but Etho was matching it. They were much less vocal than Joel had been, neither of them saying a word as Lizzie leaned into their chest. Etho held her close, letting her stay like that as they rested their head on her shoulder. After a while, Etho shifted their positioning so they could pick her up and carry her to the couch Joel was on.

Sitting down on the couch, they let Lizzie rearrange herself to find a comfortable position next to them while Joel just leaned his body more into Etho. None of them were quite ready to sleep, but the moment to cuddle presented itself and none of them thought to refuse it.

Joel reached for the remote and turned on the television. He curled back up against Etho as he flicked through shows in their watch later list to find one all three of them had been watching together. Etho didn’t really care nor did they pay attention to what Joel picked out. The buzz they felt from their spouses' affection was more enough to keep them content at the moment, nothing else mattered quite as much.

[musical-chan]

Link and the Deity Chapter 2: Learning About the Little Things

"And this is Castle Town!" 

Link had left Epona in the stables outside of town and the pair walked through the gates together.  It had been a while since he'd been by, not since before the mask had broken, but not much had changed.  He didn't like coming to town that often; there were too many people and spending so much time in Clock Town had made him realise he missed the quiet of the wilds.  He knew he should check in with Zelda again sometime but he'd honestly been avoiding her a bit since Termina. The feelings had dulled and faded away over his years of being gone but he needed more time to not feel so awkward about it.  There were other things to do though, games to play and Sheikah stones to catch up on gossip with, so he figured he'd go to the castle some other day. 

Pulling the Mask of Truth out of his bags, Link glanced up at his father with honest curiosity.  "Did you want to come with me? Or look around on your own?" 

(Read the rest on AO3!)

Fluuuuuuuuuff! Fluff fluff fluffy fluff! It helps if you've read Father of Time for this fic, at least the first few chapters. Yes, I know Father of Time is VERY LONG now but still.

[phoenixcatch7]

Always interesting to see how each fandom handles death and justified violence, because it varies a lot more than you might expect.

Some take it more seriously, for some it's barely a thought, some don't really care if a character is a murderer. Basically no one gets legally punished for murder, like, EVER. Or legally punished for much of anything. When you see it you can't unsee it! So many characters should be spending at least a few months in prison!!

I gotta say, though, if I had to make a list? When it comes to understanding mortality and grief and guilt, death and its consequences for the survivors, I don't think I've ever seen a better fandom than Final fantasy 7.

This is in strong contrast to my experience with Game of thrones, whose fandom will brutally and viciously kill off named and main characters by the dozen without batting an eyelid.

It seems to be a combination of canon's death rates and in universe morality, that particular fandom quirk that inverts the happiness of its source material, but most importantly The Implications. You'll have seen this with horror games, you'll have seen this with comedies. It is FAR from guaranteed that a fandom will carry the same tones as its canon (just look at Danny Phantom 🤭).

What other fandoms have wildly varying tones?

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

they're in love your honor

[fishandships]

@ my fos pspspspsps i made pumpkin adobo soup with chorizo and caramelized apples come try some 🥺🥺🥺

[violsva]

So it turns out that if you put a slightly damp blanket on the foot of your bed at noon, instead of the water evaporating off it into the air over the day it will move down into the rest of your bedclothes. And at ten pm the blanket you washed will be dry, but your sheets will not. 🤦

[daddysroyalwhore]

“Let's load the gun

Make her eat the tape in the bathroom mirror

See if she can guess what

A hollow point does to a naked body

Let's fuck her up”

[sun4r1nnity]

suna rintarou x reader drabble

suna has never been this lucky.

what deity has blessed him to have this opportunity? the life he has with you right now, are what he's cherishing. seriously, what did he do to deserve you?

he gets to see that pretty smile of yours everyday, hears your voice that he swears makes him melts, and enjoying every domestic moment together with you, even when one time you accidentally burn a hole in his shirt because the iron was too hot—then later that day he went and bought a steam iron instead.

he smiles when you whine to him how your skincare is running out, and the next day you are shocked to see a whole new set of it on your vanity. you showed him the buldak ramen recipe on your reels, and then when you're unloading the groceries suna had brought home, surprised to see the stuff thats not on your list as you hold two big packet of carbonara ramen in your hand. you told him that you wanted to try the ribbon croissant that's been trending in the city, so he got them for you to try despite having to wait a long queue for it.

its what the least he could do for you. he loves to see you happy. he loves to take cares of you because it makes you happy. and happiness makes you prettier than ever. no wonder you have gotten so prettier everytime he lands his eyes on you, because his love for you is what has been shaping who you are today.