#yetremains

Long, long ago, in her youth when Zeus had first asked for her hand in marriage, there had been a part of Hera that had hesitated. There were many reasons for that. She was still recovering from the trauma of having been used and ripped in half by Kronus--something that Zeus could not help her with. She was dealing with conflicted feelings of loving and being close with Hades. There was grief over the loss of her mother, there was both fear and anxiety about becoming queen.

She was young then. What someone might equate to as a teenager in human years. Ultimately what had driven her choice was fear: fear of the underworld, fear of Kronus, and a desire to settle everything quickly. While she wholly embraced and loved all the luxuries that game with being queen now, back then she had been afraid, anxious and awkward if she would be able to pull off such a responsibility.

Well. Since then, she had carried the majority of the responsibility. It wasn't to say that Zeus never did any work, but he very much treated his status as a plaything and means to get away with whatever whimsy he desired. There was once a time when they had worked so well together, when he was serious but now...

Now much was left to her, such as figuring out this outright anomaly. Much like when she came to her husband about her visions about Persephone, he refused to believe her about her visions of this new entity. The visions were...odd. Of a person here on Olympus that she had never seen before. At the very least they didn't seem to be up to anything bad but the fact that Hera couldn't recognize them at all was somewhat alarming.

Especially when she could find no information on them. Hera considered herself to be pretty good at detective work. When she wasn't able to figure things out, she knew exactly who to turn to. Her son, Hephaestus hadn't been able to find anything on them and he had uploaded all paper records up to his databases.

If he couldn't find information on them, no one could. Which meant she was going to have to investigate this first hand.

The first time Hera had come to notice them was via involuntarily picking up their emotions of anger and frustration. Now she could get their general direction, and it brought her to where they were staying. Echo had wanted to come along, but with so little information Hera did not know if this person was dangerous or not. She didn't want to risk her friend.

Look who’s happy to get away from his family and to join a family that actually accepts them into their fold?

Another pieces featuring Ryoma (Mad Jack/Mack) and @yetremains, cause these two are one of my OTPs and I love them so freaking much >//w//<

Just the two being cute and adorable with snuggles and kisses...cause Ryoma is a snuggle monster sometimes and loves giving affection when he can. I am sure Yang has no complaints when he gets all soft and sweet like this.

Enjoy ^3^ More soon~

@yetremains​​​ stabbed the heart.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Slowly, Grandmaster Hasashi begins to contemplate; this unsettlement in his brain as it unravels deep inside. A flower blossoming inside his heart as he takes a step down the trail leading the steep arch of the stone bridge leading towards the communal meditation room and dojo attached beside it. Down the trail, it leads infinite possibilities stretching before his eyes. And the door lingers so close. Does he step through the threshold, into the warmth of a comforting hearth, in the loving arms of his Shirai Ryu community? Or does he turn tail, and step into the icy fields of numbness as he strenuously and futilely, where beautiful snowflakes of the crisp winter’s beginning settles deep into his heart, mitigating his perpetuated grief and deeply-repressed rage that hasn’t quiet died, but still hibernating in the fathomless depth of his heart? 

The vicious maelstrom of his psyche has already ravaged the land that toppled and twisted with sprawled and mangled slain bodies of the clan. Fields burned, his head torn, hints of green and oak appearing after the smoke clears. How Hanzo Hasashi had reborn into a body, mind, and soul anew. He exhales, his worries become new. In the ouroboros of repeated life, death, then back to life, he remains always stuck in the transitional phase; his soul hanging between the two worlds. And he is glad that his unlife has provided him an opportunity to turn such misfortunate and tragic incidence into delight, as blazing inferno of his comforting warmth manifest as proverbial sun of his strength. He refuses to be slain over and over again with the penetrating arrows piercing his heart exsanguinating the fire inside of him. 

Even in the throes of his torment and suffering, the passion almost tearing him apart from the inside out. He is simply here living in his truths, with the blade of justice and vehement architecture of his being strengthening day by day. For he no longer starves himself of happiness, as his life is some kind of salvation. He may burn too brightly or collapse into himself every night, but with Shirai Ryu’s support and Yang’s proximity brushing against his shoulder. “No longer there is a shadow where Death and Despair used to be. With blackholes swirling in those shadows as I would keep getting pulled in, transported to another memory filled with burning bodies, stenches of burning flesh and harrowing screams and writhing convulsions of people forever stuck in their torment and tribulations.” 

Hypnos would say it had been a long day, if every day in the Underworld weren’t such. Between the war in the above world, and Demeter’s long, eternal winter, the fields had been flooded with new souls, as more and more names piled up on his ever-lengthening list of the dead. It was enough to exhaust any god, much less an ancient one who guarded sleep, of all things. He wasn’t meant for the waking realm; he was meant to attend to dreams, to induce yawns and heavy eyelids. But for whatever reason, the master of the house seemed determined to keep him chained to his position, despite how often his job was threatened when he didn’t meet Hades’s expectations (he rarely did). 

So if he were asked, later on, what caused the next wrinkle in this increasingly complicated era of conflict and war, he would say that it’s not actually his job to do anything more than greet the people who show up. For once in his eternal life, he really was doing his job. 

Yawning as someone emerged from the river, he caught only a glimpse of dark hair and an athletic build, so at first, he wondered if Zagreus had returned already. But that wasn’t Zagreus’s name on the list, so he dove into his greeting for a newcomer, instead. 

“Welcome to the House of Hades!” He chirped. “Where death is our business! Looks like you--” he paused. Squinted very hard at his scroll. Unrolled the bottom of it a little more. 

Yang is choking and then laughing so hard she has to go down too the ground. Holding her side as the laughter just won't stop. "A R-RAT?! OH MY GOD, VIVI, YOU ARE JUST... A LITTOL CRECHER...!!!"

@yetremains

Arthur shakily peered above the desk after the terrible punch and screech. There was a second crash of glass as the large, black figure went flying through the window and proceeded to flee.

After ONE. PUNCH.