#moving the plot along

[hazbin-dads]

Meanwhile, in another part of the building, Lucifer’s phone buzzes. He opens it to see a summons flashing on the screen: a mandatory meeting with Sera. His eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line.

Lucifer: *under his breath, frowning* Always at the worst times…

Adam, witnessing this, stiffens. His gaze flickers between Lucifer and the glowing summon. A slow, calculating smile spreads across his face.

Adam: *quietly, to himself* Well… that’s my chance.

Without hesitation, he starts gathering what he needs. Heaven is calling, and this window might be the only opportunity he’ll get—no matter the risks of leaving the situation behind.

🪽🎸🍎 🪽🎸🍎

Lucifer strides toward the Heaven Embassy, Adam close behind, his movements purposeful and sharp. The sky above shimmers faintly with the boundary magic of the heavenly threshold, the air tinged with a crisp, commanding energy.

Inside, Sera stands at the center of a polished chamber, waiting. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of Adam beside Lucifer.

Sera: *cold, incredulous* Adam? You… *pauses, scanning him carefully* …are a sinner?

Adam: *doesn’t flinch. He plants his feet firmly, voice steady, almost daring* Not for much longer! You can’t deny it—I belong in Heaven.

Sera: *expression hardens, lips pressing into a thin line* You’re a sinner, Adam. That alone disqualifies you. Heaven is not a place for those who have strayed.

Adam: *intensely* Excuse you?! I was nothing but loyal to Heaven! I’m the original man! I’m God’s perfection! And you dare—

Sera: *coldly* You’ve proven that humanity is a mistake Adam.

Adam: *eyes widened, genuinely hurt to hear that*

Lucifer: *surprised himself* Holy fuck…

Sera: The very few humans who have proven themselves to be good and allowed into Heaven has been dwindling for hundreds of years. And in a last ditch effort to help redeem sinners, Heaven has been working in a reincarnation project. But there’s been… a complication. The reincarnation system malfunctioned. Instead of placing a purified soul back into the mortal cycle… one was diverted. *her eyes darken* Abel’s soul.

Lucifer: *voice low, dangerous* …What?

Sera: His essence did not return to Earth as intended. It… anchored itself here. In Hell. Inside a demon.

Adam: *his expression twists—shock, then fury, then horror as the words sink in* You—you put my son in a demon?!

Sera: *coldly correcting* The system placed him. It was not by choice. But his soul is bound. His memories are gone. He exists now… in someone else…

Lucifer: *snarling, stepping closer* You mean to tell me Abel, my son, is trapped in a creature of Hell, without even knowing who he is?

Sera: *unflinching* That is the truth. His presence is faint but undeniable. Some demon is unknowingly carrying Abel’s soul within them. Pregnant with him.

Adam: *his fists tremble at his sides, nails digging into his palms. His voice shakes with something between rage and grief* He’s alive… but not him. He doesn’t even know us.

Lucifer: *bitter laugh, sharp and venomous* Heaven. Always so flawless in its grand designs… until it costs someone else’s child.

Sera: You have every right to be angry. But understand this: Abel will be reborn as a demon if the pregnancy is successful.

Adam: What do you mean “if”?!

Lucifer: It means there is a chance Abel could die. Whether by a miscarriage or… abortion.

Adam: WE CAN’T LET THAT HAPPEN! *turns to Sera* LOOK I KNOW I’M AN ASSHOLE BUT ABEL… *he pauses, trying to calm himself* Abel is a good boy. He doesn’t deserve to be aborted.

Sera: *folds her hands behind her back, voice like steel* And yet, his fate may already be sealed. The host carrying him is unaware of what they carry. If they discover it—or if the strain proves too much—the risk is… considerable.

Lucifer: *eyes narrowing, voice like a blade* You talk as though Abel is just another “test subject.” He is my son. Adam’s son. Not some failed experiment in your little redemption project.

Sera: His soul was diverted. That was not Heaven’s intention. But it is what has happened.

Adam: *slamming a fist against his chest, stepping forward* Then fix it! Pull him out—rip him out of whoever it is and bring him back to us!

Sera: *snaps sharply, eyes flashing* It is not that simple! If we try to extract him prematurely, his soul could shatter. Abel would be lost forever.

The words hang in the air, heavy and final. Lucifer goes still, rage warring with terror in his sharp gaze. Adam staggers back a step, running both hands through his hair, visibly shaken.

Adam: Lost forever… no. No, I won’t accept that.

Lucifer: *after a long silence, voice clipped but burning* Then we make sure the host survives. Whoever they are. Abel will be born.

Sera: *quiet, almost warning* Be cautious. If the demon knows, if Hell knows, the pregnancy could become a target. Abel’s soul would make him… valuable.

Adam: Anyone touches him—anyone tries to take him from us—and I’ll burn every last one of them down.

Lucifer: Then we’re agreed. Abel will live.

Sera says nothing, her expression unreadable. But deep down, even she cannot ignore the resolve of two furious fathers—the weight of their love heavier than any decree Heaven could hand down.

[cinlat]

6-ish Line Sunday

I was tagged by @actualanxiousswampwitch and several others over the last few weeks, and hey, I actually have something to share so here we go. A few lines from the next chapter of Blood in the Breeze.

“We have a problem.” Theron rolled his head back, staring at the vision of an inverted Lana Beniko. He righted himself and shoved away from the desk in the back of his alcove. 

“I thought we agreed on no crises before lunch.” Instinctively, he alerted Zolah to the unknown threat with a few taps to his datapad, then looked up at Lana with bored expectation.

The Sith’s lips pressed into a line so tight that her entire mouth vanished behind the scowl. “Koth didn’t get the memo, listen.”

“Mayday! Mayday! This is cargo freighter Ridala. Does anybody copy?” 

The door opened to show Zolah standing in the gap, arriving in time to hear Koth’s reply over the playback. “This is the Gravestone. We’ve got your back Ridala, you okay?”

I’ll tag @tishinada (since you’re usually tagging me) @outcastcommander and @storyknitter

[jumejii]

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[sav-and-squips-shenanigans]

Sango curled up on her bed, holding herself and shaking.

This wasn't good. None of this was good. She had to fix this. She had to fix this. She had to fix this!

Sango: I can't let them know. I can't let any of them find out. I can't-

She jerked and slapped her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from being heard as she cried out in pain.

Black coding started to creep up her arm, but she shook her head.

Sango: No you don't!

Gritting her teeth and straining, the blackness receded and disappeared from her arm. She let out a heavy breath as the pain faded again.

However, her momentary peace was disturbed by a notification.

Well really a warning was more accurate.

Warning: Suppression Systems Malfunctioning.

System Reboot is Required.

Sango started to panic.

Sango: Wait what!?

Rebooting...

Sango: No no no no no! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Nͮ̆e̦̘͙̖͙̦̍ͣ̎͐̄ͫͅw̝̤̮̜ ̭̞M̬̖̈ͤ̓̈́̔͑ệ̟̻̯̰̣̜̿̑̇s̯̙̔̓̂ͭ̓̿ͥs̠̥̞̼̣̅ͩͩ̆̏̽͆a̮̹̘̱͕ͯͨ͛ͮ͊g̳̬͇͎͓̟ͪ̄͋͆e̤̼̫ͣ̏̋ͯ̽ ͨ̀̾͑̂͊R̟͖̗͚̥̼ͮ̅͂ͫͦ̂ē̺̲͖c̝̗̮͚̪̥̺̒̋ͧè̀̊i̬v̥̭̫͓̽̈ȅ̙̯͊͒́̂d͖̄́͂ͥ́ ̩͇̬͎̝͖̹͊̈

[her-imperial-navy]

It happens when you least expect it. You're arguing with your Kismesis, searching for resources, maybe you're dying, maybe finally living. Whatever has preoccupied yout time, however, is dropped at the sight of it, a small metallic sphere hovering like one of Earth's hummingbirds in midair. The humming device is not unfamiliar to you. Any human would run upon seeing such an alien thing but, after all, you are an alien, and in The Imperial Condescention's navy, the drone-like communicators were one of the best ways to make sure your messages were delivered safely.

You're curious now. What's a Transfer Drone doing on this abandoned rock of a planet? You were all too sure the remnants of The Condesce's navy had retreated. Was it lost? A remnant of the war? Hesitantly, you push the circular access button in the center of the sphere, a far off hope in your head that maybe they were coming back to get you, or at least give you a reason they left. On queue, a light shaft projects from the eye in the robot drone and fans out to settle on your frozen face, a grid of white lines scanning the contours of your visage. This, too, is completely normal to you, and you can almost predict what the drone will do next. The grid on your skin disappears and a smaller projection scans your retinas for further verification that you are, in fact, you.

The machine spits out your name, caste, rank, age and, most mysteriously, the number zero, in a monotone voice as if to tell itself it was now okay to relay the message meant only for you. At least you think it's only for you until the drone pulls back and the light shaft morphs into a mountain of hair, glittering jewelry, and a glinting, dangerous smile. Your hair stands on end despite the many miles that must be between you and the Condesce. Instinctively, you cringe despite yourself and fall to one knee as her voice plays through a speaker in the Transfer Drone and the hologram's lips move along with it. 

"Listen up, wrigglers 'cause I ain't got time for squiddin' around and stickin' here to sea the ofishal end of this war. Spendin' three and a half sweeps on this waste of time hasn't gotten us anyfin, so, bein' the genius I am, I've got a proposition for ya, buoys and gills. If you ever want to get off that waste of a planet, you better take this to heart. We aren't leavin' Earth without krillin' every glubbin' human living on it, but, like I just said, I ain't got time to do it the hard way and that's why you're here. You're gone get this job done. We know where you are on Earth, obviously, cause of this little drone. Ain't it cute? Anyway, you've got some cullin' to do, babes, so let's make this quick. Off ten humans and you're out of there. Boom. Bam. We've conquered Earth. You're back in the navy. 

Perhaps you've gotten hooked on their pathetic race. Ho ho, I bet some of you have. Whale, let's up the ante. A little persuasion, shell we say? One a month. One measly little human a month. Do it, or be culled. Aren't I nice? No, I ain't. So I'm changing it up. Here's the reel deal: one a week. Sea, I'm dolphinitely not nice."

Someone mutters in the background and The Condesce whips her head to the side to face the protester. "I can do waterever I fuckin' like, basshole!" she growls to the off-camera voice, pointing her trident in the same direction. The hologram Empress slowly lowers the weapon and turns back to the camera, gesturing to the drone and flashing a wicked grin like nobody had interrupted her at all, "Sea, these drones ain't the normal kind. They'll run a harpoon through ya faster than fuckin' Troll Captain Ahab if you aren't up to quota, you cute lil cuttlefish. So take your opportunaty and join me back in space. Why go through all this trouble, you ask? A girl's gotta have fun somehow, amirite?"

A deadening silence fills the air as the hologram flicks off and the drone hums menacingly in the air, as if waiting for your answer. It's up to you, now. Will you heed the advice of your Empress and get the heck off this hunk of rock or find a loophole that'll keep you alive and free? Good luck to you and the humans; whatever your choice, you'll both need it. It's up to you at this point forward: ignore the message and fight what this drone has in store for you, or save yourself and do the Imperial Condescenion's bidding. Leave it to the Condesce to give you choices without really giving you a choice.