#Based on that one scene from the finale | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

serasfanfiction · 5 months ago

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The limo in front of them finished releasing it's cargo: a family of lessor Goetia consisting of a pair of blue and red Macaws and their primarily blue offspring. They posed here and there as they made their way up to the front doors. The limo rolled away, leaving room for Asmodeus' limo to roll up.

The limo rolled to a stop. It was their turn to get out.

Lucifer's entire body froze up. Etiquette dictated that he should get out first with Alastor. Not that he cared about etiquette. Etiquette could go screw itself for all he cared. It still dictated he go first.

He really did not want to go first.

He opened his mouth with every intent of telling Asmodeus and Fizzarolli to go first, only to be cut off by a shrill voice screaming: "WE LOVE YOU FIZZAROLLI!"

All eyes inside the limo went to the source of the scream. It was the fan from before, having managed to break free of the barrier that had been erected to allow. Eyes crazed and pants half undone, he rushed the limo, fully intent on throwing himself at it.

Disgusted, Lucifer snapped his fingers, the fan disappearing in a burst of red and gold dust.

A long silence followed, both inside the limo and outside. Fizzarolli gaped, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "Uh, what did you do to him?"

Lucifer blinked, eyes moving uncoordinated of each other. "I dropped him into a volcano."

Somewhere in the Wrath Ring, the little fan was getting a very hot bath. He may or may not survive the experience.

The retired actor of the group gave into the impulse and grinned. "If it wasn't rude, I'd beg you to play body guard."

Lucifer huffed, the mental image absurd. Just image: the king of Hell acting as body guard to an imp. It would be a silly sight.

No more silly than hiding behind his younger sibling, he supposed.

He drew in a deep breathe, held it, then let it out. He reached for the door handle. "Alright, better get this over with."

"Sire, if I may suggest?" Alastor tapped this side of his king's mouth, his own smile picture perfect. "Perhaps a little of that devilish charm might go a long way, in this case."

Lucifer, feeling stressed and spiteful, threw him a smile that was more aggressive than charming over his shoulder as he opened the door. As expected, the moment he cleared the car door, the stunned crowd, understandably not expecting him to show up - forget stepping out of the Sin of Lust's limo - completely lost their minds. Fixing his grin in place, he reached back into the car. "I believe that's our cue, Mr. Radio Demon."

It was like watching the shift change in his radio station. Alastor rose up out of the limo like he regularly showed up in luxury vehicles at high profile venues. Every move was full of lethal and gentlemanly grace. Without missing a beat, he tucked the hand Lucifer had used to lead him out of the limo onto his arm, as if it were perfectly normal for him to have the King of Hell himself on his arm. As he made his way towards the entrance of the manor, one might have thought he had been the one to receive the invitation.

For all that Alastor claimed that he only had a face for radio, he knew how to put on a show for a crowd. As few photos existed of him, the paparazzi could be forgiven for taking a moment to recognize him. But when they did, they went wild all over again.

"Your Majesty! Are you and the Radio Demon having an affair?" One sinner, a shark based one, tried to shove his microphone as far over the barrier as he could.

Another reporter grabbed the collar of her cameraman, nearly choking him as she aimed him in the direction she wanted. "How long has this been going on?"

"Does this mean that the Queen is gone for good?" A small raccoon sinner ducked under the rope barrier, holding onto it as he leaned out to try at a response as they passed.

At least one of them must have been Vox's people, as she threw her hands in front of the lens, shouting, "Stop recording, you idiot! You'll damage the camera!"

Sure enough, everyone who had attempted to either take a photo of Alastor or to film him over the last several moments began to make horrified, dismayed, or angry cries, or some combination of the three as they discovered their cameras were all beginning to ominously smoke.

Lucifer laughed, despite the tension, as they made their way up to the entrance. "Oh, I don't know why I keep forgetting you can do that." He covered his mouth in an attempt to be serious. "The rumors are still going to be messy."

Alastor was surprisingly silent, giving no comment on his opinion on the matter.

An imp, dressed as a butler, met them at the door. He took one look at Lucifer before dropping into a bow. "Your Majesty. May I take your coat?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, no that won't be necessary." He turned to Alastor. "You want to hang onto yours or ditch it?"

The muscles of Alastor's arm flexed under Lucifer's hand. He appeared to be considering if he could handle seraphim's ongoing touch without his multiple layers. After a pause, he stated, "I'll keep my coat as well, good sir."

Lucifer was tempted to feel insulted. The feeling was banished when the redhead placed his hand over the captive one on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. It reminded him that if Alastor truly didn't want to be touched, he would be more than willing to shake him off, King of Hell or not.

The imp rose out of the bow. "The name of your plus one, your Majesty?"

"Alastor," the blonde offered. Weighed which of the redhead's titles might be more suited for this audience. "The Overlord."

The butler nodded. He led them into the manor and towards an elaborately decorated ballroom. At this door, he announced to the room at large, "Presenting, his Majesty, King Lucifer Morningstar and his plus one, Overlord Alastor."

The guests already in attendance fell into a hush. Everyone stopped what they were doing to either catch a peak at their king, the sinner he had shown up with, or both.

Father, why had he thought bringing Alastor would be less stressful?

A pat to the hand grounded him, subtle enough not to be noticeable from a distance. Alastor wasn't directly watching Lucifer, but was still keeping an eye out for any escalation in his stress levels. It would have felt nice, having that kind of attentive partner, had Lucifer been certain the redhead was doing it because he actually cared about Lucifer's wellbeing.

A tall figure, taller by several feet than Alastor, dressed in silk and velvet and a cloak that reflected the cosmos, approached them. An owl Goetia, whose black top hat was styled with a crown. "Your Majesty." He bowed the exact amount necessary for both their statuses. "We're honored you could attend my daughter's ceremony."

"Stolas!" He could really be no other Goetia. Stolas ushered them from the door to allow the continued flow of guests. "It's been a while!" Nearly eighteen years, in fact. "You look..." Lucifer trailed off.

Goetia were vain and sticklers about their appearances. Never a feather out of place or an errant thread in sight. Stolas, on the other hand, was too frayed around the edges to hide it. He had been a lanky teenager, not quite twenty when Lucifer had met him at the announcement of Octavia's birth. He had seemed tired, but happy to be a new parent.

He looked beyond tired, now. Bags under his eye, thin in a way that suggested a loss of appetite, and soul heavy with a life full of pushing everything down, down, down until it all threatened to explode or implode.

"Um... good?" Lucifer finished, lamely, kicking himself for making it sound like a question.

Stolas didn't appear offended. His pupilless eyes were just as effective mask as Alastor's smile, making him hard to read without paying attention to the other cues. "And you as well, sire." He blinked, once, a slow thing. His head was turned enough to indicate his attention as on the radio host. "Oh my word." In a move that spoke of a life of extreme isolation from people, Stolas leaned down and forward until he was almost in Alastor's personal space, "This is one of those Overlords I've heard so much about?" It was the sort of tone someone took when spotting a lion out on the plains from the safety of their car, not while encountering one up close and personal were it can quite easily sink its claws into them. "I've never seen one so close."

Alastor's ears twitched like they wanted to flatten and his smile took on a malicious edge. Stolas' height forced him to look up at him, something Alastor likely didn't have to do often. "Come now, good fella," he said, not a hint of whatever he was feeling in his voice. "Surely you're not one to judge someone based off their class." With all the grace of a viper going in for the kill, he added, "Not with the company you keep."

Lucifer's lips parted, someone still caught off guard by how audacious this sinner could be. He tensed, ready to interfere if necessary.

It proved to be unnecessary. Stolas' spine straightened, bringing him up to his towering ten feet tall. Everything retreated behind a wall built from a lifetime of locking everything because it was easier to suppress than feel. "Touché."

"Dad?" A smaller figure, closer to Lucifer's height, appeared at Stolas' side. A teenager, an owl-peacock mix Goetia, was dressed in a gown as black as the night sky. Littered throughout the bodice and skirt were numerous constellations made from crystals that twinkled as she moved.

Stolas followed her voice like the moon follows Earth. Where before he looked weary to the bone, he came alive at the sight of her. A deep warmth that spoke of unconditional love colored his voice as he said, "Via, come." He held out his hand and she came with only the slightest pause. "Meet his Majesty. You were only a hatchling when you saw him last."

The teenager, who could only be the star of the ball herself, blinked at Lucifer, her lips twisted mullishly. She clearly wasn't thrilled with being at this party. "Um." She blinked again, and then fell into a curtsy, the movement familiar but not used often. "It's nice to meet you again, your Majesty."

"Stolas, she's lovely," Lucifer responded, honestly and without hesitation. "And she's gotten so big!" Not as big as some of her relatives, but a healthy child was a healthy child.

The pride on Stolas' face as her gazed down at his daughter was impossible to miss. "She's my pride and joy," he said, sincerely. "What is it, my owlette?"

Octavia rolled her eyes as she didn't quite pout, finding the nickname childish. She pointed off towards a door in the back that likely led to the kitchens. "There's an issue with one of the guests. They're demanding to speak with you."

Stolas' eyes narrowed. "And they asked you to deliver the message? Honestly!" He patted his daughter's cheek. Octavia pulled another face, but it was obvious she secretly enjoyed it. Watching the exchange made Lucifer ache for the time his own daughter was this age. That time where children were learning the extent of their independence as they came into adulthood, but still wanted a degree of parental attention. The pain of the missed opportunity was another reminder of how much time had passed and how fast it had gone.

When he'd left, Octavia turned back to Lucifer and Alastor. "Sorry about my dad," she said, addressing Alastor. "He's still learning." She gave them both another nod, before retreating back into the throng of people.

Lucifer watched her go. She had a good head on her shoulders. After she disappeared from view, he began herding Alastor towards the end of the buffet. The sinner must have been curious about the offerings, because he let himself be pushed along. "Do you just know everyone's dirty laundry?" Lucifer grumbled under his breathe, smiling a little too widely as someone paused to watch them a little too intently.

Alastor stared at him, surprised by the question. "Why, of course, your Majesty!" He dug his heels in at a seemingly random spot at the table, bringing them to a stop. He looked to and fro, assessing his chosen spot. "Information is currency, and nothing is more valuable than things people want kept secret."

Alastor stepped behind Lucifer, his hands settling on the monarch's shoulders. Into his ear, the redhead stage whispered, "Take our host, for instance." He directed Lucifer to where Stolas had reappeared from wherever he had disappeared to. "It caused quite the scandal when it came out that he cheated on his wife, and with an imp no less!"

From the door they'd entered through, the butler announced, "Presenting his Highness, Asmodeus and his plus one, Fizzarolli."

The guests broke out into chatter anew, everyone having an opinion on the pair. "And then there's your little brother." He spun Lucifer until they were could easily see the Sin in question. "Fizzarolli was his business partner, before they fell in love and started their romantic entanglement. They tried to keep in on the down low, but no one was surprised when his Highness spilled the beans last month."

Asmodeus and Fizzarolli moved through the crowd, drawing mixed responses from the crowd as they passed. No one was saying anything to their faces, but they weren't trying to hide what they were saying very well either.

The butler appeared again, a little frazzled. "Presenting her Highness, Beelzebub, her plus one, Vortex, and her other plus one, Loona."

If everyone had an opinion on Asmodeus' choice of date, it was nothing compared to the Sin of Gluttony showing up with a pair of hellhounds she was in a polygamous relationship with. The taller, male hellhound was in a sharp black and white tuxedo, while the slightly shorter female was in a blood red sleeveless gown. Beelzebub herself had her arms around both their shoulders while rocking a cotton candy pink cocktail dress.

"Well, that's an interesting development," Alastor murmured. He sounded like this was genuinely news to him.

Lucifer wasn't sure if he wanted to know. "What?"

Alastor nodded to the female, Loona. "She is the adopted daughter of the imp our host is sleeping with."

Lucifer wasn't certain if he was being serious or not. "Really? What is this, some kind of soap opera?"

Alastor snorted. He withdrew from his perch, turning to inspect the offerings laid out on the table. "It certainly seems so, does it not?"

Off to the side, a live band began to play. Various couples made their way to the dance floor. A brave soul was already making his way over to Stolas and Octavia, likely to attempt to ask for a dance. Lucifer grabbed a drink from a server as they passed, silently wishing the kid good luck.

Judging from the sour mood Stolas was in, he was going to need it.

Over the first couple of songs, Lucifer alternated between watching Alastor and the crowd. The sinner weaved up and down the buffet, never straying too far, seemingly interested in the food. Every now and then, he would pause to taste something, an ear twisting around. Lucifer guessed it was to hear whatever gossip was being said near him. He noted when the redhead would linger he would pretend he was grabbing more than one morsel to snack on, but never actually ate anything.

Several of the Goetia pattered around Lucifer, but none approached. As the third song came to an end, Alastor prodded a passing imp. There was too much chatter around Lucifer to hear what he was saying, but the imp nodded and then ran off in the direction of the band.

Lucifer eyed him suspiciously as he made his way back over to him. "Bored already?"

Alastor hummed at him. He held out a hand, reminiscent of that night in his bedroom a couple weeks ago. "Care to dance, your Majesty?"

Lucifer stared out into the crowd. Across the room, the imp Alastor had flagged down grew closer to the band. Each step felt like another grain of sand falling through an hour glass, ticking away the seconds until this moment disappeared into the ether, lost forever.

If he accepted, this would be his first dance in public in nearly twenty years.

It would be the first time he had ever taken his first dance at a formal event with anyone other than Lilith.

The imp reached the band, chattering with them. They nodded at each other, the band fiddling with their instruments as they prepared the song. Lucifer eyed the held out hand out of his peripheral view.

Lilith had already made her choice. Had made it when she walked out the door to the home they had shared for almost ten thousand years. Had made it again when she disappeared somewhere not even her daughter could reach her.

Perhaps it was time for Lucifer to do the same.

He took Alastor's hand.

Alastor's eyes glinted with dark promises, his smile deceptively welcoming as he led them out onto the dance floor. The other attendees drew away, curiously murmuring to themselves as they gave them space until they were surrounded by a large circle of people.

A violin strummed a single note through the ballroom, testing it for accuracy as Alastor brought them both to a stop in the center of the dance floor. He rested his palm against Lucifer's waist, drawing him in closer, but not close enough to touch. "I'm sure his Majesty is good at improvising, no?"

As he wasn't sure where to put his hands, Lucifer left them out at his side. He grinned widely, delighted by the prospect of a partner giving him a challenge. "Do your worst."

A violin began to strum out the first notes. It wasn't a song that Lucifer recognized. Alastor started out with a simple sway in time with the music. Soon, he began to incorporate movement, such as turns and spins into the dance, following in time with the violin. It wasn't anything that Lucifer had ever danced before, although he noticed immediately that Alastor was using subtle pushes and pulls of his hand to indicate where he wanted Lucifer to go and when he planned send the blonde out for a spin.

The onlookers were forced to make a make more room as the circuit of their dance got wider, slowly picking up pace with the music. He could pick up subtle influences from the waltz in the dance, as he was drawn in, hands instinctively going into their proper places. When Alastor began to spin them around, Lucifer leaned back subtlety into the spin, enjoying the feel of a strong arm keeping him from toppling backward with the momentum of the spin.

Alastor sent him out to the left, connected only by a single pair of hands, until their arms extended out as far as they would go. Without missing a step, the redhead drew him back in, sending him off into the other direction, exchanging hands as they went. When Alastor pulled him back in, he spun Lucifer around until they were back to front, right hand holding right hand and Alastor's left sitting on Lucifer's hip.

For a split second, Lucifer was aware again of the people around them, staring at them with wide, judging eyes.

Everyone was watching them.

The sight was lost as Alastor spun them around again, ending with them facing each other in the default position for a waltz. Alastor, perhaps picking up on his distraction, leaned in closer than the dance usually allowed, voice pitched low as he said, "Eyes on me, your Majesty." His hands tightened, a physical reminder that the sinner had him figuratively and literally. "This dance is only for the two of us."

That wasn't true. Alastor wanted everyone to see this. Lucifer's hands gripped Alastor's tighter than necessary. Forced himself to focus only on his partner. He released the breathe he'd been holding in a shaky laugh.

Alastor lead them through another circuit around their stolen space. It repeated much of the same steps and movements of the first part of their dance, picking up speed as they went. Lucifer allowed himself to fall back into it, let his senses focus on the cues Alastor was giving him until there was nothing but the music and and the movement of the dance.

Lucifer let out a breathless laugh as Alastor used the momentum of their spin to pull him in and lift him from the side. The lift was small, more a tentative testing of weight. Now that he knew what to expect, when, several moments later, Alastor's hands went to Lucifer's waist, the king was ready.

The music hit a crescendo as his feet left the ground. Lucifer unfurled his wings, using them to help with the lift. For a moment, he was weightless, held down to the ground only by the hands on his hips. He laughed, a real laugh, exhilarated.

And then he looked down at Alastor.

Alastor stared up at him, eyes alight with something too dark to be called wonder. Alastor was looking at him like he wanted to join him. Like he wanted to tear him down and ground him forever.

Like he wanted to tuck him away in his bayou and never let him leave again.

Red tipped hands tightened around his hips, a warning, and Lucifer allowed himself to be pulled down, wings gently flapping to slow his fall. As he came down, his and Alastor's faces came within inches of each other, so close they were almost sharing a single breathe.

If he had wanted to, he could have leaned forward that mere inch or two and sent them down an entirely different path.

Lucifer's feet touched the ground, his wings disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. Alastor sent him out for one last spin, as if he were trying to regain his distance before he was drawn in too much. Left hand met left hand, both going up and over Lucifer's head as Alastor dipped him, only Alastor's right hand across his body keeping him from falling. Lucifer's own hand came up to catch his hat before it could tumble off his head.

Alastor pulled him back up. Both of them were flushed and breathing harder than the dance warranted as he stepped back and away from Lucifer. As the violin sang out one last note, signifying the end of the song, Alastor startled him by doing something he hadn't done a single day since they'd met.

Alastor leaned forward, one hand crossed over his chest, in to what could only be called a bow, even as every inch of his posture showed no subservience. Even in this, he was defiant.

In that moment, as he stared at the top of the head of the head of this sinner - this sinner who had half driven him mad with frustration, who dared to challenge him where no one else dared, who had waged a campaign to win him over - Lucifer knew he was caught.

Taking his own step back, he lowered the rim of his hat, hiding behind it like he could hide away from this revelation. "Stand up."

"Sire?" He could almost believe Alastor was actually concerned.

The roil of that uncertainty had Lucifer taking another step back. "I need to step away. Don't... don't get into any trouble while I'm gone." Without giving the sinner the chance to respond, he turned and fled.

The manor had been updated over time, expanding as needed. It was far older than every living Goetia combined. Once upon a time, it had been like a second home, when relations had been better. He remembered the layout enough to find a guest bathroom far enough away from the party not to be immediately found, but not close enough to the private residences to be intruding. They wouldn't have kicked him out, but it would have still been awkward.

Lucifer shut the door behind him, heading straight for the tap. The water was only ever able to get barely below room temperature in Hell. He chilled it as it hit his palms, splashing the icy water across his face. Repeated it once, and then twice. Held his palms over his face to hide from his reflection.

What was he doing? Did he really want to peruse a relationship with Alastor? Alastor, who was likely only playing with him for power? Who was certainly going to be furious when he found out the consequences of drinking angelic blood of Lucifer's caliber?

He didn't require utter devotion from his partners. He didn't require them to lay themselves bare before him. He merely wished that they want him for him, because he didn't think he could lay out what was left of his heart and survive having it destroyed all over again.

And that was the ultimate question: could he trust Alastor with his heart?

The honest answer? He didn't know.

Lucifer turned off the tap, grabbing a towel to wipe off his face. He pointedly didn't look in the mirror, unwilling to see what was staring back at him, unable to face it just yet. This wasn't the time nor the place to have a melt down. He could have it when he returned to his rooms, but for now, he needed to hold it together.

The hall outside the bathroom was empty, the noise coming from the ballroom barely audible down the hall. He had every intention of making his way back to the ballroom - to Alastor - when he caught sight of a figure disappearing around a corner. Lucifer might have brushed it off as staff and carried on, had it not been for the distinctive flash of what could only be angelic steel.

Now why was an imp skulking around a party full of Hell's highest royalty with angelic steel?

Keeping light on his feet, Lucifer trailed the figure. The figure moved from room to room, peering into each before moving on to the next. At random, the figure would look over his shoulder, forcing Lucifer to occasionally get creative with hiding spots. Stopping before a seemingly random room, the figure glanced around one last time, and then ducked inside.

Lucifer crept up on the room. A simple thought and he had transformed into mouse, tiny enough to allow him to keep low to the ground where no one would think to look for him. He sniffed at the entrance of the room, picking up on the scent of someone who had spent some serious time in the Wrath Ring. Could it be the figure he had been trailing?

Entering the room, the first thing he noted was the lights were out. The light of what passed for late afternoon/early evening filtered in through windows, whose curtains had been left wide open. Not much by way of furniture littered the room, leaving it mostly bare. It didn't appear to be in use, more of a spare room. The only thing of note about it was the high ceiling, where bare beams crossed from one side of the room to the next. Glancing around, he couldn't think of a single reason the figure would have come into this room.

Unless he knew he was being followed.

Lucifer transformed back into his normal form, rolling out of the way of a boot intent on coming down on top of him. He came up into a crouched position, noting right off the bat that the figure was standing between him and the exit to the room. The new position also gave him his first look at who he'd been tailing.

The figure was indeed an imp, one on the taller side for his species. He was dressed in what looked so stereotypically like a cowboy outfit, it almost looked like a costume, were it not for the fact that the cloth was clearly lived in and his weapons were very real. Sinister yellow eyes nearly glowed in the dimming light of the room, widening slightly as the figure got his own good look at who had been following him.

"Well, I'll be damned," the figure drawled. He flowed into a standing position like water running up a statue, tail whipping around behind him into into a coil. Utter contempt dripped like poison from his tongue as he said, "If it isn't the King himself come down to grace us peasants with his presence."

Lucifer stood up, swiping at his sleeves to dislodge any dust. He shot the imp a winning smile as he quipped back, "Well, Char-Char has been getting on me to get out more." He placed his hands together, one over the other. "So why don't you tell me what's got you sneaking around and I'll see what I can do for you?"

The little cowboy's grin was as contemptuous as his tone. "Hm, pass." He paced his side of the room, edging closer without ever coming into arm's reach. "You royals like to talk like you care, but none of you actually give a rat's ass about us."

Lucifer said nothing, letting him talk. It was obvious this guy had beef with the ruling classes. Let him talk long enough, and he might let something interesting spill.

The cowboy crossed his arms, body language deceptive languid. "And I don't think you'd like what I had to say, anyway."

Lucifer shrugged. "Don't know unless you try."

The cowboy tapped his fingers to one of the holsters at his hips.

The seraphim eyed the gun. It was a beautiful thing, as much a work of art as it was a weapon. The white parts of the barrel glowed, giving away what it was made from. He raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He placed a hand on his hip, using a single finger of his other hand to do a little circle in the air to encompass the entirety of the imp. "You're really going to attempt to fight me?"

The imp had ego, Lucifer would give him that, and confidence in spades. He wrapped his hand around the grip of his gun. "I always wanted to try and kill the unkillable."

Lucifer tilted his neck from side to side, cracking it as he went. Maybe this was what he needed to burn off a little anxious energy. Even with some holy weapons, an imp wasn't much of a match for him, but he might be entertaining. He made a 'come hither' gesture with his left hand. "Then show your king what you're made of, little imp."

The imp struck with the speed of a rattlesnake. His gun was out in the blink of an eye, two shots fired in quick succession.

Lucifer side stepped both. The bullets hit the wall behind him, sending out a spray of dust. He tilted his head to the side. "That all you got?"

The imp grinned. "I'm just getting started."

Lucifer was surprised the imp would dare attempt to get within arms reach, but that's exactly what the cowboy did. He rushed forward with that same deadly speed, a knife as pretty as the guns appearing in his hand. Lucifer side stepped the attempt, grabbing hold of the imps extended arm and tossing him effortlessly towards the wall behind him with enough force to stun, not kill.

The imp twisted like a cat in free fall, hitting the wall feet first. He used the wall to catapult himself back at the seraphim, landing partially on Lucifer' side, partially on his back. The imp's knife flashed as he brought it down towards the the seraphim's back.

Lucifer laughed at the attempt, transforming into a snake. The imp gave off a rattlesnake's warning rattle, hitting the ground as his support suddenly disappear. He was already wrapping a hand around Lucifer's body, tearing him off just as Licifer was about to sink his teeth into the imp's neck. The imp sent him flying off to the side.

Lucifer transformed in mid air, flipping over backwards and using his wings to slow his fall. No sooner than he touched the ground, did he have to duck as a piece of furniture went flying over his head. He caught a glimpse of an actual rope, which was far better than anything he could have hoped for. This imp was seriously committed to the cowboy shtick!

Lucifer let him throw another large piece of furniture at him before the blonde decided it was time to put a little fear of the Devil in this imp. He leaped over the armchair, coming down on the other side. As the armchair was released, he grabbed hold of the rope. The imp pulled the rope tight, tugging it hard against Lucifer's grip.

Lucifer didn't budge and his grip held fast.

The shadow cast by the brim of his hat cast his face into shadow, leaving only Lucifer's grin visible, the sight of it more reptilian than humanoid. The imp swallowed, a single streak of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He was caught between attempting to reclaim his tool or abandon it. Lucifer made the decision for him when hellfire caught between his fingers, taking to the rope like tumbleweed.

The imp released the rope mere seconds before it could touch him. Lucifer let the rope fall, cutting the power to the hellfire and dousing it as effectively as pouring water over a candle. As the fire winked out of existence, nothing remained of the rope, not even ash. Dusting off his hands, Lucifer taunted, "Ready to give up and start behaving?"

The imp retorted with a derisive sneer. He pulled his gun, firing off a shot that sent Lucifer airborne. Feeling like a nuisance, Lucifer didn't just dodge the next bullet, or the one after that, or the one after that. Oh, no.

He started pulling faces and silly poses, all to show off how utterly and completely he wasn't taking the imp seriously. Eyebrow twitching, the imp took a run up the side of one of the walls, twisting around at the height of the run. Using the momentum of the twist, he sent his pretty blade flying at Lucifer.

Rolling his eyes, Lucifer barely put any effort into his dodge. "This is getting sad, you know." He sighed and clicked his tongue. Shaking his head, arms out in a 'what can you do,' pose, he lamented, "And you were showing such promise!"

It turned out the imp had one last trick up his sleeve. Lucifer felt what could only be rope tightening around his ankles a moment before he was being yanked across the room. He barely felt the impact with the wall - the imp didn't have the brute strength necessary to cause him that kind of damage. He did feel his stomach drop as he fell to the floor, his wings suddenly as useful as a penguin's. He twisted so that he came down on his side, his wings safely between his body and the wall.

His pride smarting, he shoved himself up onto his elbow, seeking out the offending object around his ankles. He knew what he was going to find even without seeing it.

"Blessed rope?" He couldn't keep the incredulous lilt out of his voice. Guns, bullets, and knives made sense. Angelic steel could be reforged. None of that explained how an imp got his hands on blessed rope. "Where did you get blessed rope?"

He didn't wait for an answer, contorting in an effort to reach his ankles and free them. To his frustration, the imp yanked on the rope hard enough to keep them out of reach, pulling him across the floor several inches in the process. Lucifer's wings flared as he hissed, not unlike a snake warning an unwary soul that they were about to get bitten.

"Ah, ah," the imp laughed at him, breathless. His eyes were a touch too wide and his smile too full of teeth to be anything like real humor. "Gotta keep some of my secrets." He wrapped the rope around his hands to secure them, eyes darting around the room as he sought out a place to secure it.

The imp's upper hand was paper thin, the rope currently a double edged sword. They were both very well aware of the fact that if seraphim freed himself, the tables would turn.

"Looks like you caught me." Lucifer levered himself up until he was half sitting on his side, held up by one of his arms. The imp tensed, ready to pull on the rope if he went for his ankles again. Lucifer merely waved his free hand at himself, the restraint, and the imp. "What now, cowboy?"

The imp's golden tooth glinted as he pointed up to the ceiling. "Now I'm going to string you up like a pig for the slaughter." He mimicked Lucifer's earlier 'what can you do' pose. "Can't have you interfering."

Lucifer glanced up at the beam in question. It would be undignified, going up, but he would be able to free himself easily enough. Unbothered, he threw the imp a flirty wink. "Kinky, but not my thing."

The imp gave off that distinct rattle, his tail thrashing. His fingers twitched towards his holstered gun.

Curious. He wasn't smiling anymore. Did he not like innuendo? Oh, Lucifer could work with that. "What's the matter, cowboy?" His eyes fell half lidded into his best set of bedroom eyes, tilting his hips to show off the body that had tempted quite a few human's to their damnation. "Got me all trussed up and now you're getting cold feet?"

The imp's eye twitched, his self control hanging on by a thread. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he seethed, "That everyone in this hell hole is a sex crazed maniac when we're being ruled by some two bit whore."

Yup, this was a tetchy one.

The insult rolled harmlessly off Lucifer's shoulders like rain water. He opened his mouth to truly send the imp off the deep end, when the door suddenly burst open.

"Oh my, this is quite the scene."

Lucifer resisted the urge to slap his face. Of course Alastor would show up now.

Whoever the imp was, he was quick witted. Alastor was forced to dodge as the imp decided to shoot first and ask questions later. Lucifer took advantage of the distraction to go for his ankles, only to narrowly miss taking a bullet through the back of his palm as the imp let off a warning shot right at it.

All three parties paused to regroup and reassess. The imp left his gun pointing at Lucifer. "Stay right where you are, Red, or I give our leader a brand new hole to yap out of."

Alastor stood up, tugging his suit back into place. "Hm, please do," he said. Raising his voice to be heard over Lucifer's annoyed protest, he tacked on, "I should point out all it's going to do is annoy him."

Lucifer was hardly mollified by the additional warning. It wouldn't kill him, sure, but it would still hurt!

Realizing that threatening the life of their king was pointless, the imp decided on a different strategy. In an impressive feat of strength Lucifer hadn't thought him capable of, the imp swung around, dragging the seraphim across the floor and sending him flying at the Overlord.

Flightless as he was with the blessed rope locking away his powers, Lucifer's wings were still quite large. They were more than enough to slow down his momentum so that he landed hard on his hands and knees at Alastor's feet rather than colliding with him.

Alastor watched the imp escape through a vent without making a single move to stop him. "Oh dear. It looks like he's escaped."

Unhelpful jerk.

Lucifer grumbled as he was finally able to untangle his ankles. He glared as he found himself in a tug of war for the rope with one of the redhead's shadows. "Nope, you're lucky I let you keep the dagger. You don't get the rope, too." He yanked it out of the shadow's grasp, having to put his back into it.

"Let me, sire?" Alastor leaned over him, the angle having him peering down at him upside down. A shadow wrapped itself around Lucifer's waist, lifting him up and setting him on his feet, back to the sinner. The seraphim's wings puffed up as a claw toyed with one of the feathers. "You don't even have the slightest clue where I hid it."

Lucifer tucked his wings away to keep Alastor from getting any ideas, like ripping a feather out.

The deer demon placed his hand beneath his back, the very picture of a perfect gentleman.

Not for the first time, Lucifer questioned his sanity over his choice of this sinner. He set the thought aside for a more pressing matter: "We should probably tell someone about that imp fella." He walked past Alastor to the door, without looking to see if the redhead would follow. "He's here for someone at this party." Normally, Lucifer could have cared less about assassination plots, but this little brat had irritated him.

He paused several feet down the hall, pivoting suddenly. He nearly ran into Alastor's chest, the sinner not having expected him to stop and not having stopping himself. The blonde poked him, lightly, in the center of his chest. "How did you even find me, anyway?"

Alastor took hold of his elbows, gently but firmly forcing him to take a step back. He pointed a single finger down at their feet, his expression bemused. "Haven't you noticed something odd with your shadow, your Majesty?"

Lucifer had not, in fact, noticed anything odd with his shadow. He followed the direction the finger was pointing, finding himself staring at what looked like nothing more than his shadow at first glance.

His shadow, which proceeded to wave at him completely independent of him doing anything.

"You had your shadow follow me?" He stomped his foot - lightly - over the face of the thing, causing the shadow to detach from him. It returned to it's master's form, shaking a fist at him and frowning dramatically.

Alastor reached out, running a finger under Lucifer's chin, imploring him to look up at him. There was nothing like mocking on his face as he stated, simply, "You looked distressed. I promised to look at for you."

Lucifer felt the soft rush of heat to his cheeks. He ducked his head low, hiding his expression - futile as it was at this point - and about faced. "And who's fault is that? All that bowing nonsense!" He resumed his marching down the hall back to the ballroom. "It doesn't suit you."

Alastor didn't respond. His amusement was nearly audible anyway.

They found their way back to the ballroom without further incident. Stolas wasn't hard to find. He was hovering off to the side, watching as his daughter danced with the female hellhound who had come with Beelzebub. He took one look at the blessed rope hanging from Lucifer's hand and was instantly on alert. "Your Majesty?"

The little king gestured for their host to follow him. He led the owl Goetia out of the room, Alastor keeping a leisurely pace at Lucifer's side. When the blonde was certain it was less likely they would be overheard, he held out the rope. "You have an uninvited guest. Likes weaponry of the angelic kind."

Stolas peered down at the rope. He tilted his head to the side. "Was this assassin by any chance a sexy little imp dressed like a cowboy?"

Lucifer blinked at him, blankly. Sexy? Had the imp been sexy? He squinted as he considered it. "I... guess?"

Stolas sighed, taking the rope. "Striker is a very... persistent foe." He tucked the rope away in the folds of his cloak. "My wife hired him to kill me." He bowed his head. "I apologize his Majesty was caught up in all of this."

Lucifer winced. Stolas' wife hired an assassin to kill him? He looked to Alastor, who didn't appear surprised by this revelation. Was this why he was surprised over Stolas and his wife throwing any public event together? Awkwardly, he turned back to Stolas. Asked, "Uh... Do you need any help...?"

The Goetia prince shook his head, waving away the offer. Before their eyes, he seemed to age another ten years. "Do not worry yourself, sire. I have dealt with him before. I will deal with him again." He waved a hellhound serving as bodyguard for the event, leaning down until he was near the hound's level. "Mount a search for the intruder. Keep it quiet. We mustn't disturb the guests."

The hound saluted. He scurried off, barking out orders as he passed his fellow guards. Soon a small army was amassed, spreading out to search the premises.

"I will join them in the search." Stolas returned his attention to the other two. "Would his Majesty and his guest like to return to the party?"

Lucifer considered. Did he want to return to the ceremony? To the crowd of vultures? To his siblings and their partners? He tilted his head to the side, looking to his own partner for the night. "Alastor?"

The radio host's eyes cleared, as if he were tuning back into the present. His smile turned indulgent. "I would of course be willing to follow whatever his Majesty is willing to do."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him, knowing what he was doing.

Alastor merely stared back, willing to wait him out.

Lucifer considered extending the evening with this sinner at his side. This sinner he might have been developing some level of affection for, even as he was tempted to strangle him on a daily basis.

"You know what? The night is still young! It's been a while since I enjoyed it." He reached out, telegraphing his intention. The redhead didn't move away, allowing him to take his hand. The blonde monarch tugged him towards the ballroom, calling over to Stolas as they went. "Offer is still open if you need help."

Stolas made a hum of acknowledgement, letting them go.

Without looking back, Lucifer led Alastor back into the ballroom, head held high. His mind was still on the fence on how he felt about this sinner, but he felt a little more like he might be able to face it whichever way things fell.

tbc

Part 17

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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years ago

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also to go "wow this is just like in pentiment" about absolutely anything and/or "wow this is just like iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)" about absolutely anything further:

the Narratives within crash land falls where like, in the end iphigenia being Given the story of both "this is going to happen anyways" and "so why don't you see it as a noble sacrifice to accept." the situation happening to Create a story that she was killed, so her father must be tragic, and sympathetic. that iphigenia does take on that Narrative of taking on the Noble Willing Sacrifice, and it kills her, but she also would have been killed anyways, as everyone also knows. that we even get a bit of pentimentesque [other characters observe & assess things] like, the fresa girls as a chorus, and one at the end like yeah She Was No Saint, i saw everything, but being cut off by The News that's like yeah looks like iphigenia was killed, that seguing into her father saying yeah she was killed, god's will was done, She's A Saint now. seguing to the emcee who introduced the play, but that superceded by achilles, and that superceded with iphigenia's extasis monologue as the end of the play. that whether iphigenia's a saint or not, she dies. that [the whole play] tells us as much, like, this isn't a What If kind of retelling where she escapes her fate, this is a retelling examining itself like, she Will die because the story's preset, so what to do with this as the story that has to take her there, what to do with this as iphigenia who has to go there

that iphigenia takes on another narrative in addition to the one offered by like, violeta as guide and oracle telling her she has to die (As A Noble Sacrifice), that again (as per iphigenia in aulis being like uh hey daughter. let's go to aulis so you can uh marry achilles (it is to be sacrificed)) achilles is this bait, but it's only in the ending that there's any Story about being with achilles, and when iphigenia goes to the mercenary soldier who she knows will kill her, she's the one telling him what to tell her about where she's going and why, i want you to tell me achilles is waiting for me....and she still dies, because This Is The Story. as also applied to the reality, iphigenia as another dead and missing girl following & preceding many; any disappeared deaths when consumed as disposable & replaceable, not given part of any narrative about it. while also iphigenia only gets a chorus of fresa girls from there being crosses put on the factory wall with their names, with one girl even remarking like hey they spelled my name right for once. but at the same time they're also like, both mere Apparitions but also like standins for people who are simply alive. real [shades]esque kind of, i suppose, but like they're not Sanctified for dying either, they'll comment on iphigenia but not with any like, divine knowledge, just as this out of place rich girl. whether iphigenia's A Saint or Not A Saint, she's still dead either way. she wants to be a fresa girl, they maybe want to be her, but everyone's doomed anyways thanks to way larger forces and the Stories that have been told and will be told again

but there's also the moment right before the final section wherein, before she's having to say what she wants within the bounds of [she has to die], there's achilles asking "you still want me" and iphigenia answering with "i want everything" and her vision for, like, getting to be alive actually, i'm on the gulf where the sea is gray, and no one wants a piece of me....the whole inciting event here where iphigenia wants to evade her fate however she can, exiting the bounds of her life, the physical bounds and the family unit and walking away from the rank of status / class / wealth, trying for [have her body for herself] and what the body wants, the sensuous indulgences of (a rave fable), let's hear some more about the roman state like "we don't like the examination and challenge and upending of class and convention in a bacchanalia, so only do the official versions we permit;" the Threat of people's desires for themselves, when that's going to be counter to those in power who'd want these people to be resources at their disposal; the burden on the disempowered to suffer [the only way out is through] with the Additional pain & loss that has to be taken on in pursuit of their autonomy, while also of course suffering for the autonomy they lack, that restricted and controlled and mitigated versions of what you might want are deigned to be provided or permitted so that you have Something, but that everyone's actual undeniable personhood will always be spilling past those bounds, the potential power of transgressive pleasure when one's wellbeing and autonomous choices are counter to the power structures that have to constantly try to suppress and preclude this. achilles just as bait, doomed to die like iphigenia is also still doomed, sex was never going to save everyone and the [recognizing connection as these two parallel people / We're The Same] with your lover here is not going to save everyone but it still makes more things possible for them both; iphigenia does know what she wants, and gets some of it because she wants it, same with achilles in turn, while it can't save anyone from their fates still. but it can mean something even if it doesn't transcend, like even a fleeting night of insignificant dancing that doesn't change anything can mean something, and we all die, but that doesn't mean it's Nothing to be killed any more than it's Nothing to have your desires or choices one way or another to be wrung out of your life before you are

anyways, the stories. the Looking and Presenting here. achilles and iphigenia first encountering each other as images put together and presented by someone else for their own purposes. the presence of what's seen through film/camera/recording versus in person; the potential power relations and even violence in framing, presenting, and the intended looking and assessing. repeated language about eyes/looks that burn, while also that connection between iphigenia and achilles, and their finding the least room in what they do have of their lives for more of their own wants and selves and something genuine and not predetermined, is also connected to eyes and looking and being seen and light and burning. while they're also connected to the protection and possibility of night and darkness, getting to exist and be Without being lit up or seen; that with the power that's still in play, it's never like, well then you should have nothing / no reason to hide; the penultimate moment in the play with achilles being one that's in person and fades into darkness, rather than coming in from the light of a projection / video onscreen as the introduction....iphigenia needing to be guided through a crossroads to even get to achilles in person; violeta giving the Advice and Story and Tradition to pray to eleggua, as iphigenia does before getting to encounter achilles for real, who also doesn't get to break out of a role or a fate in full in any way, but their tragedies are like, pointing towards [autonomy, imagine it] in both the ways they manage to find a little bit of it for themselves, in no small part for simply recognizing each other as in the same boat here, and in the ways they still don't have it and still can't get it

and anyways it's also inevitably saying like, telling a story?? this Play is a told story!! looking? assessing? interpreting? you're doing that in the course of experiencing it! and it's really so fucking true.

#reading the whole of it like okay well i'm different forever now then #tearing a wall down about it like yeah it's extremely chill thanks #iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)#what a Narrative can change; what it can't....#those already with the power to do whatever they felt like in the first place just able to create whatever story of events supports that #those whose lives are restricted by that power having to struggle to find any narratives that provide some comfort maybe #whilest perhaps it's the stories that provide an accurate reflection on the pain & suffering in one's reality that are more threatening Lol #like hey i hope that that bacchanalia isn't satiriz....paused to look up ''if satire is based on satyr i'll mclose it lmfao''#Apparently it's not Really; but the latin form was indeed influenced by the greek satyr (for the theatre of it all) on the Mistaken notion #that that Was an influence. so; anyways i hope that bacchanalia isn't satirizing norms & conventions & providing a space to transgress #wherein we can see the Constructed and Enforced nature of things like class such that it can be deconstructed & deenforced #you'd Better not be questioning these conventions by commenting on them even indirectly; playfully; or via imitation....#that achilles can only have this genuine final closeness with iphigenia after voicing & sharing ''i'm dying soon too btw (:''#while iphigenia able to voice what she wants from life is only happening with the context that she'll die & she won't have this #she knows she wants [and nobody wants a piece of me] b/c of knowing that they do; and they'll take it....#their navigating their connection via also rejecting / superseding Their Image(tm). i want to kill the tabloid girl that envelops your skin #i will sink & get rid of every inch of me. that at the end of their scenes of actually interacting it's iphigenia reassuring achilles #who's like [but you wouldn't want Me] [everyone only wants a piece of me] [you'll forget me] vs i will destroy your celebrity; there will #be no one left to adore but me....unmaking oneself in the face of being defined & doomed Already; by the past....#breaking into pieces crash land falling. if you existed once ever that exists forever. the pieces all around & as the foundation #making one's way back around to ''wow just like in pentiment'' again lol....endless things to say all around #as well as when anytime you have something to say you have about a trillion words in the effort to do so #the narrative that matters to you but doesn't save your life still giving you More life while you still have it....#and what gives a little more life than that. and a little more than that

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