#seven hells

Seven hells! Am I glad to see some more birds up here.

We've done Hakone, we've done Hokkaidô, now it's time for Kyûshû's hot spring hotspot: Beppu. Specifically, the Kannawa district is built around a set of natural hot spring pools that are used to feed a large number of onsen. Steam rises from pretty much everywhere, but nowhere more prominently than the pools known as the Seven Hells.

Now, this sigh wasn’t one of frustration. I’ve known the Demon Lord since the dawn of Hell; I’ve seen every kind of mood: wrath, arrogance, bloodlust, but most often, I’ve seen him bored. This… this was different. I couldn’t quite place it.

Demon King: “Mammon…” (sighs)

Mammon: “Yes, my lord?”

Demon King: “I held a female’s body properly recently.”

Mammon: “…What?”

The Demon King glanced at my baffled face, then sighed again, this time with a strange mix of confusion and irritation.

Demon King: “I meant… I didn’t defile her.”

What in the seven hells was he talking about? Demon Kings are supposed to be vile: merciless, cruel, and without a shred of restraint. For him to downplay his words like that? That’s practically blasphemy down here.

My jaw must have dropped because his bored look turned sour.

Mammon: “My lord, who is this diabolical female you speak of?”

Demon King: “You need not concern yourself of who it is.”

I knew better than to press further. Still, I had a feeling I knew who it was. There’s only one female in all of Hell right now — a human, no less — a lost soul fearless enough to challenge the Demon King, crass and brazen, matching his cruelty with her own daring defiance. What’s more shocking is that her soul’s still in one piece. He ordered everyone not to lay a finger on her, except him. And yet, in every encounter I’ve seen, he’s kept his distance, despite his… well, threats.

Mammon: “Forgive me, my lord, but I’m completely lost…”

Demon King: “I held her for the first time. I touched her face… cupped it in my hands… I wanted to get closer.”

He demonstrated the motion, actually reenacted it, right there in the throne room. I swear, for a moment, I thought he’d lost his mind.

Demon King: “Then I kissed her. I had a sudden urge but I didn’t understand it. And it surprisingly felt good.”

He frowned again, tapping his clawed fingers against the arm of his throne like a scholar confused by his own experiment.

Demons aren’t known for tender acts. The idea of kissing instead of ravaging was absurd.

Demon King: “Then I started kissing her harder. I lost control until I tasted blood in her mouth. She said it hurt… so I stopped. Slowed down.”

Did he just… feel bad? My lord was downplaying again, but the guilt in his tone was unmistakable.

Demon King: “She made me feel all sorts of things, Mammon. At first, I felt weak like I could melt. I wanted her to consume me. Then something raw surged inside me, like I could consume her. It was confusing. It spooked me. So I… restrained myself.”

By now, he’d sprung from his throne, pacing in jagged circles as though the floor itself might answer him.

Demon King: “I’ve never restrained myself for a female before! Did you know that?”

He looked at me wide-eyed, desperate for an explanation, or maybe a cure.

Demon King: “I left her chamber. She’s still resting. I… I want to go back.”

That’s when it hit me.

Mammon: “My lord, I understand now. You must refrain from going back there.”

Demon King: “Refrain…? Why?”

Mammon: “Since the beginning of time, I’ve studied humans. What you’re experiencing, my lord, is what they call the honeymoon phase in the dating world. There’s something called the push and pull technique. You must give your lover space, lest you smother her with your presence.”

Demon King: “…Honeymoon phase… push and pull technique…?”

Mammon: “That’s right. The idea is that after initial attraction, giving each other a little distance makes the bond stronger. If you’re too clingy, she may grow tired of your presence. The push-and-pull keeps desire alive, gives her space to miss you, to want you more.”

Demon King: “Miss me… want me more… push… pull… push… pull… does this… work?”

Mammon: “Exactly. So, for now, you wait. Let her rest. Let her breathe.”

The Demon King’s expression twisted into something almost tragic. He slumped back onto his throne with a heavy thud, staring into the abyss.

For the first time in history… the ruler of Hell looked heartbroken, muttering quietly under his breath:

what you could be.

you see a dream, not a face staring back. you see yourself flourish and grow stronger, you have learned to set your fear and shame aside. you do not limit yourself to self destructive beliefs. you changed and grew until you became someone else entirely. or so you think. you were always meant to become them. you are here to to find yourself and be happy. you will get there. you will.

seen on: tumblr

tagging: @betterstay-dead @shevampyre @zeitrcisender @stcrseeker @godfrcy @daemonoria @drkcurse @chaoticmvse @fri-luftsliv @t-hevessel & anyone else if you wanna do it.

“What in the seven hells is it?” Greyjoy was saying.

“A wolf,” Robb told him.

“A freak,” Greyjoy said. “Look at the size of it.”

Half-buried in the bloodstained snow, a huge dark shape slumped in death. Ice had formed in its shaggy grey fur, and the faint smell of corruption clung to it like a woman’s perfume. Bran glimpsed blind eyes crawling with maggots, a wide mouth full of yellowed teeth.

But it was the size of it that made him gasp. It was bigger than his pony, twice the size of the largest hound in his father’s kennel.

“It’s no freak,” Jon said calmly. “That’s a direwolf. They grow larger than the other kind.”

Theon Greyjoy said, “There’s not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years.”