Ssree's Scribbling Corner

Happy 100th Birthday David Attenborough [b: 8th May 1926]

It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement; the greatest source of visual beauty; the greatest source of intellectual interest. It is the greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living.

Happy 100th Birthday David Attenborough [b: 8th May 1926]

It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement; the greatest source of visual beauty; the greatest source of intellectual interest. It is the greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living.

Charlotte, in her infinite wisdom as head counsellor, the ink on her hell Uni certificate still drying as she tacked the frame on the wall, decided to make some changes.

Why should the staff be allowed priviledges that the sinner guests they had, couldn't participate in? Or more likely, SHOULDN'T for the sake of their redemption journey. After all, temptation got them down here, so if they removed it that should help them to become winners in no time!

Vaggi had tried to caution her that this could cause some low morale among the guests, but... well, she was willing to try for Charlie. After all, Vaggi had been the one who was against the bar in the first place, when Alastor installed it... they'd both been surprised when Lucifer added in the area to the new hotel. Though the ex-orcist secretly assumed it was more to do with showing up the red guy and proving he loved his daughter, than anything else.

Overnight, the hotel became a testing ground for Charlie's new theories on Helping Sinners become Winners! And Becoming Worthy!

Something about the wording really grated on Vaggi's nerves, and she had a sinking feeling she wouldn't be alone in it.

Husk stumbled over to the barren area where once his station stood the next morning in bleary eyed confusion. "The fuck is this?" he managed, trying not to wince at the blindingly colourful display.

Charlie was vibrating out of her skin in excitement. "A juice bar! Oooooh isn't it amazing? Dad helped me change it over last night, so now sinners on the path of righteousness can't be tempted anymore!"

Whatever her blinding grin was hoping to get from the grizzled former overlord, it wasn't a look of horrified disdain that slowly soured into something approaching restrained rage. "Look, Princess..."

He was clearly casting about for something... less than what his heart wanted to share. "I get you think this is a good idea but you need to hear me when I say this's fucked up."

She began to deflate in confusion, then bucked up with self-assurance. "Look, I know it's going to be hard, but I spoke to Vaggi and you can have the whole day off to deal with any hangovers from not getting the 'hair of the hellhound', and then we'll show you how to work the juicer and blenders tomorrow... oooh, you'll love the pineangonut smoothies! I had the fruit brought up from Gluttony just because my guests deserve the best!"

His expression darkened. "Charlie, this is going to kill people."

She can't help but snort. "Okay, that's a liiiiittle dramatic, isn't it? I know withdrawal can't be fun... but everyone will make it through. And then we can have a smoothie party as part of the talking circle tomorrow! Oooh, maybe with some of the other snacks Aunty Beez sent!"

There was no reaching her now.

Husk felt his insides begin to roil and clench. A hangover was the least of his problems if he couldn't get some form of booze around here... maybe Al could help. Fuck, he hated asking the guy anything but... the not-deer bastard also happened to be weirdly loyal to his employees as long as he could laugh at their predicaments. Al would magic up a bottle for him. At least the guy understood the limitations of sinner forms...

Til he ran into the guy, Husk'd just have to hope what was still in his system was enough... or he'd have to break into the first aid kit for some of the rubbing alcohol. And he knew from experience that shit was downright vile.

His limbs were starting to shake.

Damn. Thought he had more time.

"Princess, you are gonna pay for this if I have to regenerate cause'a some nonsense idea you got in your head..." he grumbled to no one, trying to remain upright through sheer force of rage at her persistent stupidity. She just needed to listen for once, hear what sinners had to say instead of bulldozing over 'em without any idea.

She was like a new doctor who never let the patient finish describing their symptoms, already talking over them and assuming she knew best. Handing over pills without checking for allergies or if her assumptions were right.

Pain began to radiate from his stomach outward. Not hunger, not quite... but when your body was literally formed to consume alcohol, then being without for even a bit was a wild ride. Hadn't had a shortage since '87... so this would be rough.

his wings dragged on the ground as he made his way painfully towards the elevators, the stairs seeming too cruel a mountain to climb this morning, and startled as the firm throwing arm of Cherri Bomb took some of his weight.

"I saw. Silly cunt's gone and rushed into things again, and we'll suffer for it... but I probably got something hidden somewhere to tide you over, right mate?" She spoke in his direction, getting them in the elevator and moving. She looked tired. "Think she had Vags go through my room, missing all my emergency kits... and my explosives. Doesn't she realise I'm the thing that's gonna detonate if she doesn't give my shit back?"

Husk chuckled. "Don't think she's worked that out yet. But I'm going to enjoy seeing this backfire..."

Already, confused voices were rising in the floor below them as the sinners sneaking down for an early morning drink were finding no husk and no bar to tend. He could almost taste the fury swelling from below.

Infantalising. That's what it was. the Princess treating them like godsdamned kiddies who needed her to smile and talk sweetly at them as she put things up on the high shelves so no one could hurt themselves.

Well, sometimes the kids bite back. He sure as hell was planning to... once the world stopped wavering violently...

Charlie was starting to get some not so helpful comments in the suggestion box. Mostly about what she could cram into Her Box for removing the bar…

Well, sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. That’s all.

They’d understand after everyone got a few days sobriety and clarity under their metaphorical belts. Perhaps she should offer light meditation this afternoon to help the guests centre themselves?

Vaggi had already had to manage a medical emergency from one of the guests. Found some plant looking sinner wilting away and begging for alcohol in the lounge area, shuddering as if this was something more dire than merely a bad hangover. Charlie had offered some generic painkillers, nothing addictive in the hotel of course, and tried to provide a soothing presence. 

She’d been a little hurt when Vaggi asked her to go and check on the suggestion box, because she thought her actions were helping, but the expression her girlfriend was trying to hide said that perhaps Charlie’s attempts to get a healing mantra going were not being well received. Maybe she needed a more soothing chant option?

Sinners were just so used to having their vices on a daily basis, surely it would just be a matter of waiting out any withdrawal symptoms to get them through to a happier, healthier them! After all, how could they get to heaven if they still drank, smoked, shot up, snorted and engaged in obscene violence? 

Speaking of which… she’d noticed that Niffty had been a little more bloodthirsty lately, given the reduction in bugs to hunt. Though her cleaning remained immaculate, as always. It chafed at Charlie that she really had put a lot on the redhead’s shoulders, this was a massive establishment after all, and Niffty had to be tired. Between her constant cleaning, patrolling the vents, killing vermin and ferreting the stashes out of guest rooms.

Something at the back of her brain itched. The compulsion to clean had always seemed… a little unhealthy, especially when the sinner started to delight in the filth, the difficulty of stain removal, and recent refusal to remove stains she then went on to name. It felt… like there might be a clinical name for that.

In fact… Charlie found herself drifting back to one of the textbooks from HellU’s psychology course, and started to flip through the index with fevered excitement. Her fingers trailed over the disorders, and she squealed a little as the potential diagnosis came up… Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, of course!

Technically she should run some diagnostic testing with Niffty, but… well, the little maid was hardly the cooperative type, and her mania was so Obvious to anyone with eyes. Charlie cracked the book open at the right pages and read through the information within, covering basics, treatment options and medications. She wasn’t technically able to prescribe medications, not being a psychiatrist, but this was hell and she was the princess… what pharmacy in Sloth would deny a request for a few pharmaceuticals?

It worked with Angel, after all.

Her mouth fell into a moue of displeasure, frustrated that he’d decided to go back to Valentino after all the progress he’d made at the hotel. It had really upset her. Falling back into old habits when he was the closest to redemption, when he could finally BE someone important… someone worthy of praise.

Still, no time to dwell on that. Charlie shook her head to dislodge the negative thoughts, and put on her best therapeutic smile. Time to go and help another sinner!

Alastor’s jubilant mood from getting one over on Vox had lasted for a full week before the ridiculousness of the new hotel began to grate on his nerves. Sinners were underfoot in all the directions one could imagine, including the ceiling, and more than a few were ignorant of his abilities… or had fallen for the false surrender to the Vees.

One even dared to try and challenge him, offering a chair to fornicate with. Though for the afterlife of him, Alastor still couldn’t figure out how that would even be possible… though the degenerates in the Moth’s studio likely could have four videos out by close of business if motivated properly by their contract holder. 

Charlotte had had the sheer audacity to express upset at his response to the overly arrogant little fool, and asked him not to ‘resort to violence’ next time… as if she had no concept of who she had been addressing! And after all he had suffered to ensure her little pals came out unscathed in the grand conflict, she owed him at least a half dozen edible sinners of his choosing from among the guests.

She’d blanched at the suggestion. Ah well.

And then she’d said something wildly uncouth… the little airheaded creature had dared to tell him, no… to Decree in her little uppity tone that she was Banning the consumption and storage of sinner meat in the hotel. Did she have any idea how ridiculous that was?

She’d also tried to hedge a clause for non-violence, and Charlotte was quite lucky he didn’t bite off her head in a literal fashion for such nonsense.

Well, he’d admonished her her silly fancies, and questioned what exactly their cannibal and bette guests should eat then?

Only sheer force of will kept his jaw from hitting the floor when she’d used the word ‘tofu’ and ‘meat substitutes’ at least a half dozen times in her overly excited, shiny-eyed ramblings of an explanation. He’d been completely unable to hold back a laugh.

“Princess, do you think that if the cannibals could eat other things, they would? It is a Need. Just as Oxygen is to living things. Do you understand that etiquette and Rosie’s rules are the only things restaining them from simply hunting every sinner in hell?”

The little creature had dared to roll her eyes at him!

“Oh Al, look… I know they Think they need it, but it’s like any addiction, everyone Thinks they Need it. If we can just offer an alternative and get through any withdrawal pangs, then they’ll see it’ll be worth it! No one’s getting to Heaven if they consume the flesh of other people, right?”

Alastor’s teeth ground against one another, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. He could see this was another of those times when she had fearlessly decided that everyone should follow her as she charged off into the dangerous unknown, despite the warning of those more aware and prepared than herself. Everyone would suffer for such foolishness.

He’d already noted the nonsense with the bar, and sent a poppet toddling off with booze for Husker. Charlotte didn’t understand what happened when he ‘dried out’... more mummification than sobriety. She didn’t understand, or seemingly want to understand, the world sinners existed in; what they lived through and experienced on a daily basis just to exist.

The run in with the idiot sinner / lunchtime prey had occurred when he’d come to investigate why Charlotte had confiscated the item from her poppet and poured it down the sink. What fresh malarky was she up to now? 

It had been worse than anticipated.

Fine. He shall play nice, and simply have items smuggled into the hotel for himself and the cannibals and bettes present. It would not do to starve a cannibal.

“You will come to regret this decision, quite soon, I suspect.” He tried one last time, and felt frustration rise as her naive facade failed to crack. She waved him off.

“IT’s not going to be that bad, I promise.” Charlotte pauses, calculation in her eyes. “And I’ve asked Dad to ward the hotel against sinner flesh being brought in, or consumed… and you know you’re not allowed to hunt the guests. Don’t test me, Al, this is going to be good for everyone… just think, you can have regular food again!”

He eyed her with a weary wariness born of dealing with someone who had no idea what they were trying to achieve, once again stepping boldly onto the path of adventure without a plan. 

“Charlotte… reconsider.” Alastor intoned, and fell into shadows.

She stood there blinking for a moment, then shrugged. He was a melodramatic overlord… what could possibly go wrong if they stopped letting cannibalism run rampant around the place? Maybe other sinners would even feel safer to come stay if they knew the cannibals could be… well, not Trained to eat real food, but… weaned off Sinner meat?

Alastor arrived in Husker’s room to find a surprise guest, Miss Bomb, trying to manage the writhing mass of fur on the bed. Husker swore and twisted, wings spasming irregularly as his body fought the oncoming regeneration without any way to forestall it.

He conjured another bottle, snarling as golden light whisked it away. 

“Charlotte has gone far too far this time.” 

“Too bloody right, Red. Look at this fella, he’s about to cark it if we can’t get him some grog.” 

“Yes, but I’m afraid we can’t get it Here. Her weak willed father has warded the place against substances or other things she believes are vices…” Alastor’s stomach clenched sharply, a poignant reminder of the hunger always burning below the surface. It always rose alongside his fury, his bloodlust and his frustration; which was why a well fed fleshfeaster was the best option for all about the place.

Cherri clearly twigged to his statement, and quirked her eyebrow. “Oh, and what’s she got on you, spooky? No more jumpscares?”

He mused on the idea of dodging the question, but perhaps having someone able to lob a bomb at him if… certain instincts took over, wasn’t the worst idea. “Why, she’s banned the consumption, storage or procurement of sinner meat in the hotel and grounds! Our dear princess is convinced that tofu and meat substitutes shall suffice!” 

The expression crossing the bold aussie’s face was nearly comical in how horrified it was. “Is she fucked in the head? Doesn’t she know you guys go feral when you get the munchies?”

“Hmmm, I did try to inform her, and yet…” He shrugged and twirled his staff. “Now, I believe we need to go out on the town as it were to enable Husker to take in his required level of alcohol to avoid the muss and fuss of regeneration.”

“Won’t work.” Cherri scowled. “Got a mate in room 453, she and her group went straight for the city when they heard no booze, but anytime they tried to grab a drink it’d disappear into golden light. We’ve been chipped or something… fuck me, this is bullshit!” 

“Indeed. What about the first aid kits? I understand husker has-...”

“Emptied. Thinkings Vags did that. She thinks ahead. Just wish she’d think for herself for once and get her head outta Charlie’s box!” 

Not exactly how he’d phrase it but… accurate.

Alastor was about to impart a quip of his own when hysterical sobbing wailed through the grate to their immediate left, and a distraught Niffty struggled out. Her motions were sluggish and uncertain, but her distress was real.

He picked her up in a black tendril and brought her to eyelevel. “My dear Niffty, what has you so out of sorts?” What has the blonde idiot done now? He only just managed to bite off the end of the sentence. He could deal with nonsense placed upon himself, but Husker and Niffty were his alone to toy with… and he disliked what was his being messed with by outside forces.

“Ch-Ch-Ch-...” She struggled with the words through gasping breaths. “Charlie said I-I-I-...”

Whatever came next was hypersonic and made his ears buzz unpleasantly, before she fell into wails again. As if her tiny evil heart was broken in twain.

“What has she said, Niffty?” he coaxed.

“C-Can’t clean! Hav-have to… take these…” Her little palm opened to a bottle of some sort of medication that he knew without reading the label was some sort of cognition suppressant. The rage was rising alongside his hunger, and the longing to rip just one of the Princess’s arms off to smack her with it before devouring the flesh, sounded so tempting right now. 

“No you most certainly do not!” he snarled, snatching the medicants and tossing them away. “Charlotte does not have the qualifications to prescribe medications, she barely passed her counselling degree on her father’s coattails…” He’d checked into it extensively when she’d started forcing Angel Dust to take cocktails of pills, which seemed wrong even to a hell-loving overlord like himself.

How very like Valentino she was, in her own way. Convinced she was right, using her power to exert control over others, punishing those that disagreed, and now forcing substances on people without their consent. He tasted bile and blood on his tongue.

“Too loud in my head, Sir… can’t clean… need to clean!” Niffty sobbed harder, and Cherri took her into her arms with the care of an explosives expert. 

“Alright, alright. We’ll make a mess for you here, huh?” she offered.

The lips trembled. “It goes away in bright light…” Niffty whimpered.

Right. Alastor snarled, feeling himself expand. 

He was going to go eat the Princess.

“Stop it…” Husker croaked out. “Rampage like this… no coming back…” 

Damn it all, the cat was right.

“Then how do you propose we overthrown this tyrannical nonsense thrust upon us?” Alastor questions the barely alive feline.

Husk’s weary eyes met his own. “Simple… we don’t.”

Let her fail.

The despondent duck-loving monarch didn’t seem mentally present at the dinner table Charlotte had forced them all to set themselves down at this evening. A ludicrously long display of generic fare on a too-long table in what Alastor assumed would possibly pass as a ballroom in future.

Much like the physics-defying dimensions of his own room, it was far more spacious within than without, and accommodated all the guests. Far fewer than had started their day at the rancid little redemption project, he noted with a level of satisfaction.

Lucifer didn’t even flinch as the Overlord’s claws cracked the wooden back of the chair as he fought to control his rising instincts, the rage pulsing so invitingly below the surface. He could taste the different sinners’ scents on the air already… and he was not even as afflicted as the others who partook in sinner flesh. Well, in the culinary sense at least.

His predator’s gaze lingered instinctually upon the few cannibals and bettes about the dinner table, who appeared a heartbeat away from losing composure altogether. The way their dark welled eyes tracked the movements of those around them, a sharp claw piercing through the tablecloth as their stomachs clenched with hunger, a surreptitious wipe of drool from their lips with a napkins so carefully choreographed to avoid detection, and how their breathing began to mirror that of unconsciously selected prey.

The cannibals and bettes could normally stave this off far longer when in the company of other members of the town, as they were rarely classified as food unless some egregious crime had occurred and Rosie sanctioned a Restorative Justice Hunt. Or they had access to other substances to ease the ache, like alcohol, drugs, even violent brawls to release the instincts in a safer way. 

Here they were caged predators surrounded by succulent morsels just waiting to be devoured, and the awareness of just how many bodies were about them was starting to erode the politeness from the beasts within; turning their perception from Other People to Prey. 

It would not be long.

Alastor sat with greater force than necessary, the clunky movement serving as distraction and a means to express his own personal disgust with the princess’s ridiculousness. Cherri was helping Niffty to expel the odd medicaments, and making a most unappealing mess in the process to the delight of the ashen, clammy maid sinner.

Husker was, most unfortunately, deceased at the moment.

Much like others in the hotel who had not yet arrived, including that odd Willow creature from Room 32, he had slipped into a comatose state and deteriorated rapidly in the span of just a few hours. Alastor found himself hoping that the winged cat would simply remain deceased for as long as possible, for the moment he regenerated to health, it would all begin again.

The others? He might pause in the corners of their rooms to see if any offered interesting insights or wails in their delirium that he might incorporate into the next show. He cared not for anything or anyone who was not his, or under his purview.

Others at the table were shaking, pallid, eyes darting furtively about the room and startling at nothing.Desperate for a soothing substance that would not be supplied. And yet more seemed to be barely containing themselves from marinating the unappealing whatever-this-was on the plates, bodies weaving back and forth in sluggish nausea as if all their energy was to remain upright.

Ah, this was going to be far more explosive than anticipated. So many weaklings triggering his own desperate need to Hunt, to Rend and Tear and FEAST… he could barely stand it!

Something with scales and four eyes faceplanted into their meal down the table, clearly deceased, and the nearest cannibette launched herself across the expanse to bite at their throat. The thrill of the spectacle raised his heartbeat, smile growing violently wide in delight at the anticipated gore… only for blasted Vagathina May Delphine the Eighth to force Matilda back at with that damned spear of hers. Charlotte standing halfway between the deceased and her previous spot by her father, looking between the two desperately.

The King hadn’t reacted, Alastor noted. He seemed oddly flat… more than his usual malaise, one might surmise, and it didn’t take his heightened instincts but a second to sift through his oddly nauseating apple scent to identify more of the medicaments wafting from the man. He was both thrilled and startled at this revelation. Had Charlotte thought to usurp the king by drugging him? He felt pride surge for but a moment, as the more banal reality crashed down. 

It was far more likely the tepid little mouse had sought to regulate the royal fool’s mania in some way. He had idly compared Niffty’s desire to clean to keep her mind ‘all tidy’ with the same way the little monarch would frantically make ducks and jump to meet any of his darling daughter’s demands. It was no great leap to see Charlotte had decided to medicate away the alleged problems without a single thought about the impact…

More astonishing was that the medication appeared to have an affect on a being that, allegedly, was formed before time even existed. Had Hell weakened the little thing so? Alstor had to push down the urge to Kill, to Conquer, that his hunger sought; a weak foe was a dead one, a nourishing meal. He tilted his head, musing. No, perhaps it was something else… perhaps the king had simply allowed the pills to take effect because that was what Charlotte wanted. That was more aligned with the nature of his powers after all.

It must be noted that the wards were still infuriatingly effective even with the king so vegetative, which was grating to the Overlord, as he was still seeking some way around them or through them. To no avail.

“Dad!” Charlotte cried out, startling the King to animation, and Lucifer jerked upright like a marionette about to perform. He flicked a hand and restrained the cannibette, idly, without a single thought for the process. 

Ah yes, the little princess always defaulting to daddy’s power when times grew tough. The sort of thing he loathed in a person… the sort of thing he had made sure to deal with in life, and the afterlife once he saw too many terrible overlords mismanaging the place. Their screams echoed on his personal frequencies, occasionally leaked to air if he was being generous… or needed to remind people of their place.

The internal music was all that was holding him into this regular shape and mindset, currently. As additional sinners toppled from chairs to spasm, create a mess on the carpet, or otherwise decease themselves from a lack of their required or even merely preferred imbibement… other fleshfeasters began to lose control. All restraint thrown to the wind as gnashing teeth and flashing claws bore down on the dead, the dying and those who begged for regeneration against the pain of being Without.

Such a delightful juxtaposition, formal attire and frocks, and a tableau of fangs and claws all desperate for blood. Sadly, the golden light would hold their jaws open and away from the throats of sinners who should be meals; their claws blunting on nothing.But once in that level of frenzy, the bloodlust did not assuage until food was obtained.

Charlotte’s insulting false meat offerings, poorly spiced as they were, would simply not suffice. Any cannibal or bette who managed to choke it down out of politeness faced wearing it within mere moments, as their bodies rejected foreign substances.

“Dad, Alastor, help us!” Charlotte called, using fireworks to blind some of the flesh-hungry predators circling her. Desperate for food enough to take on the Princess herself.

“Now, assholes!” Vaggalia Blueberry Jnr snapped, breaking Bartholomew’s ribcage with a violent kick across the room. “How the fuck can we stop them?” 

Alastor can’t help the way a laugh bubbles out of his throat, and rises, echoing in the room at the sheer absurdity of the question. “STOP THEM? My dear, this is your very doing! They are trapped in a desperate cycle of Feast or Starve, and you have blunted their only way to break free… ah, if only you had listened!”

He was losing control of himself. “And you know the most DELIGHTFUL part? All these deaths are on your hands! These fools, and dear Husker… an eternal cycle of torment just for the sake of your little feelings. Well now, Charlotte… are we people to you yet? Or simply Winners to Be you haven’t found worthy? Hmmm, do tell…”

Oh, she was starting to cry. Rage and self pity.

The taste of it was sweet on his tongue as the Rage and Hunger swept through him like a rising tide. His body began to elongate, joints cracking and shadows lengthening in anticipation as the grin grew obscenely large, too wide and menacing. He resented the muzzle of golden light, but needs must.

“And you know the most delightful part, my dear?” He grinned, eyes flickering to radio dials. “It seems I have found myself a little loophole…”

Charlotte went stiff with horror, and Vaggi had to drag her into the sky to protect her from the fighting below.

“Why… I quit!” He laughed, light fading as he turned and launched his open maw right at the little king.

World was all fuzzy… like socks. 

Or, no, like feathers. He had feathers once. 

They’d been fuzzy to start with and then blossomed out to big ducky things.

Heh, ducks. 

Hmm, what about Ducks though? Charlie had said no more to his pretty ducks… and now things were all fluffy-fuzzy like the world wasn’t real. Well, to be fair, nothing was really real, he and the others had helped make it from-... uh, from the thing that blows mortal minds apart when he whispers the name…

How did it go?

Kreesh… no, more resonant frequency, er, Byhthl-... damn, having this whole physical body thing had drawbacks. The vocal range was terrible!

He giggled at the floppy sensation of his body’s tongue. It was so weird! Even after all these millennia, the oddities of the semi-humanoid form still intrigued and occasionally horrified him. It was like a pet you lived in! Always needing something…

Hold on, coherent thought was returning. He felt his body reacting to panicked cries, but not consciously. And that…? That scared him.

Lucifer hadn’t been this out of it since… since Lillith left and he drank all the Beezlejuice in the palace. He wa never, ever, ever on the name of his father may he fall as well, doing that again. Just… never again. 

He didn’t know where former angels went when they died, but he’d felt close to finding out when the angelic hangover kicked in.

Something at the back of his brain was tingling, like a little alarm trying to bring his attention to an important matter. Well, no. It was more all over, but trying to talk to corporeal beings about existing as something near infinite with tendrils throughout the realm was hard when all they saw was a little shell and-...

No, focus, there’s a Problem!

He knows the feeling. It says there’s something Not Right and he, as the King and Charlie’s Awesome and Loving Daddy, needs to Find it and Fix it.

At first, there is consternation.

His fingers didn’t want to cooperate at all, which was rude. He could feel something dancing over his cosmic essence; it almost felt like a vibration ran through them. As if… a string had been plucked, or severed, and he could feel it screaming in the silence left behind. 

Some part of his leftover Grace must be protesting taking the awful candies Charlotte gave him… but she’d been so sincere, and really wanted to help. So he’d let the little things fill him with cotton and quietness, like she promised it would.

It was the least he could do after all these many years of ignoring her calls. Of not being the Dad she needed when she needed him. Of not being the husband that Lillith had-...

His core clenched. 

Not quite a heart, not how humans and sinners would understand, but something ached within at the idea of never being enough after all they had suffered together throughout millennia. Something that would remain wounded until the revelation beasts were set free to sunder the known worlds and bring the whole thing to its natural conclusion.

“DAD!” The horrified shriek of a familiar voice breaks through some of the internal fog, and Lucifer’s body jerks in its seat, eyes blinking mechanically to focus on the Now. He was always so bad at staying in linear time… why had they set the universe so mundanely? He always thought of existence as a stained glass window, fragments of then and now and maybe and before and could be all shimmering in a pretty pattern…

Wait, what was she calling about?

Sharp teeth were heading his way. Right… not good. The jagged shards easily his height or greater, and not constrained one iota by golden light. Wait, was that the Ping? A snapped ward?

Instinct fell into place and he allowed his Grace to purge the remnants of the odd candies from his system, clarity snapping back into place like a sharp slap across the face. It was disorienting and yet, oddly thrilling. Like hearing the war trumpets sounding out and filling his essence with daring.

Who would dare…? Oh.

His face fell. 

Yeah, that fucker sure would test him like this.

Shadowy tendrils lashed out at the king, tearing half the table into splinters before him and sending his chair careening into the far wall with a loud crunch. A bellow made the King squint a little from the volume, but this was hardly the first overlord he’d put into their place… as a means of self protection of course. Not seeking to Hurt anyone.

A fun little loophole he’d found a few years back to prevent his own demise.

With a flare of his wings, golden light encircling them like a spotlight, Lucifer easily brushed aside the shadowy tendrils reaching to rend him to pieces. The deer shrieked in that awful static mix that irritated every last nerve as the barely-divine glow melted his pit-born powers.

Yeah, bet that stung there, Clifford.

He tempered that thought carefully, as if ensuring he wouldn’t be censored for that little slip up by having another divine rug-pull from above. But when no retribution came, he hovered above the glaring dials fixated on his every twitch. Something about that seemed off for the posh prick but he wasn’t sure.

Time to antagonise, stall a bit.

“Whoa there Bambi, you finally want to try the Dad Off part 2, huh? And you couldn’t think of a better opening lyric than attempted regicide? WEAK!” He laughed, diving about the renewed attempts to pluck him from the air, like a plane taunting godzilla in a cheesy black and white movie.

Lucifer pauses, taking in the chaos below. “Oooohkay, not just Rudolph then, huh? Char Char, honey, what happened?”

His daughter was hovering nearby in Vaggi’s arms, her cheeks stained with tears. She struggled to get enough air to speak between sobs. “I-I-I just… just wanted to h-h-h-he…help them!” she wailed, and his heart broke for her. 

She really was the best part of him. Just… a bit naive, like he had been in the Garden. And that was his greatest fear, honestly.

“The wards are working, but I don’t think Ch-... I don’t think WE anticipated the level of dependency of the sinners, Sir.” Vaggi replied, eye wide in horror. Once more sharing the blame for Charlie, because she loved her.

“You just asked me to magic the alcohol out of the place, right? This… was always going to be bad but… not like this.” Lucifer frowned, sending golden light to pin down Alastor’s wrists to the floor, forestalling a potential mauling before it came. “Settle down, Bellhop, I’m trying to fix this.”

He glances at the sudden look of avoidant guilt on Charlie’s face. That sent a sinking feeling right to his toes. “Char Char, can you tell me what happened?”

“I…” she hiccupped, “I might have… banned a few other things. Like all the drugs hidden in the hotel, and Niffty from cleaning, and the cannibals from eating sinner meat…”

Oh. Oh that explained so much.

He turned back to the Bellhop and no longer saw a really weirdly annoying rival for Charlotte’s attention, but instead a fleshstarved cannibal type creature in full Hunt Fervour, beyond cognition or restraint. And now as he glanced down upon their crazed subjects, he saw that Bambi wasn’t the only one ready to Feast.

“Honey, didn’t I ever tell you about Sinner forms?” he started, gently, only to cut off in surprise as a key bounced off his head. It barely stung, but another plucked string caught his attention sharply. 

One of the cannibettes had another sinner’s corpse in their mouth, tearing it to shreds in desperation to feast on the flesh, the organs, the marrow from cracked bones until the Hunger abated. And that one little act seemed to bring about a storm of ‘check outs’, each snapping the constraints holding them back from their current desires.

Charlotte must have been too specific in her warding requests when his mind had been absent from his body. To tie their conformity to employment or guest status was… admittedly an easy out for this situation, but overall dangerously sloppy when it came to contractual type bindings. He really needed to talk to her about that in future. No daughter of his would be bamboozled and enslaved by some smirking Overlord in future through wordplay…

The carnage below was getting gratuitous, little fountains of arterial spray rising like an impromptu fountain display, as the room was painted in shades of gore and gurgling horror. It was nothing unusual for Hell, on any street one chose to walk at any time of day… and yet, the horror was simply that it was happening inside the place Char Char had tried to make safe from exactly this. Although she had wrought such chaos with her own overeager hands.

Now was not the time for blame.

And he’d never been good at it anyway… after all, last time he’d messed up his Father had hurled him into a pit of fire and misery for eternity… so usually, Lilith handled things like time-out while Lucifer had a small existential crisis over not being like his own cosmic parent.

Charlie whimpered. “I thought I could help them move through these cravings and become better… and now look at them!”

Lucifer, more aware of the circumstances now, felt the mantle of the King land on his shoulders. He would handle this… and then, he would have a talk with his daughter about the true nature of sinner forms, how this had come to pass. More importantly, how Hell was a perpetual punishment with no easy outs, and altruism could kill if applied with reckless abandon. 

“Okay, so this is a mess, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Ma-... Vaggi, can you please cover Charlotte’s eyes for a minute, this is about to get much, much worse.” The ex-orcist complied immediately, burrowing the blonde’s face into her shoulder and muttering soothing things to muffle some of the horror about to occur.

With tired eyes, the King beheld the mess below, most of the sinners deceased or feasting, and snapped his fingers to remove the last threads of restraint from the assembled. The dead become the very sustenance required to slake the bloodlust of the cannibals, solving the immediate threat from them. He even tossed a dead zebra-fish looking sinner at the Bellhop, and tried very hard to meditate on the frequency of the universe over the top of the delighted humming and crunching that came from that never-to-be-mentioned blot of altruism. 

The rest was simply a matter of returning what was, and tweaking the regenerative abilities of the deceased to ensure that they returned to vitality on hotel grounds where possible. With an indolent wave Lucifer reset the bar, relocating the juice counter a few feet to the right and expanding the room a few additional feet to compensate. Physics was… a really weird trick humans decided to play on themselves, deciding everything had set shape and mass and dimensions. One day they might even get the joke.

For now, he could feel grim amusement about the whole thing.

He re-seeded little stashes of various narcotics in the hidden spaces and crawlholes of the place, they would be found by their desperate seekers in the near future. Had they never noticed how such things would regenerate, or were the withdrawals too sharp by then for thought?

He could not bring harm to sinners, and Lucifer, though rarely as focused on the sinners outside of when Charlie needed him to be, understood that some harms were imperative. To keep the sinners Char Char was supporting alive, he’d had to keep certain things from her sight… and it was now, with only the limited two eyes he had out at present, that the King truly understood how little his daughter comprehended of Hell. Of sinners and punishment. Of the true meaning of helping in what appeared to be counterproductive ways.

He would have to make arrangements with the street cleaning guild for some corpses to be dropped to the kitchens regularly, this sort of chaos couldn’t happen again. It was messy, for one, and it was really upsetting his daughter. That was, kinda his fault, though.

So he’s only blaming the bellhop maaaaaaaaaybe 53% for this…

“Come on, I think we need to have a talk, Char Char…” he soothes, opening his arms for his daughter, and she launches herself across the open air at him without hesitation. She’s apologising in a messy puddle of words and sobs that seemed impossible to be happening from just the one face. He pats her on the back, feeling a little anxious about the fact that this conversation is likely to cause further distress.

“Why yes, I do think this whole charade has gone on long enough, hmmm?” said a voice that nearly startled the King right out of the air and left him fumbling to keep grip on Charlotte.

He whirls about to find a regular sized bellhop raised to their height by shadowed tendrils, delicately dabbing at the gore about his smile with a kerchief.

Before he can muster a scathing reply, the dining room doors burst open.

A fully weaponised Niffty explodes into the room in a cleaning frenzy, hear squeal of delight near super sonic, and a very well armed Cherri Bomb storms in close behind, lobbing explosives at anyone who even looks funny at the red blur. 

“Perhaps we should adjourn to the bar, hmmm? I suspect that’s where Husker is now he’s alive once more.” The red bastard suggests.

Fish

Eyes

Adding expressions to a cat