#aetherwave

[healerstail]

The Hit

[driftward]

AETHERWAVE

In an alternate universe, where man has met magic and machine, where humanity has become augmented, has awakened, perhaps even emerged.

There are teams of mercenaries who will do the jobs no corporation or government wants on the books. People who slip through the shadows and are gone like a gust of aether. Gray operatives whose work never sees the light of day, but whose actions still affect all players in the game, big or small.

Solitaire is new to this team. She's not sure that she'll stick around. After all, the team lead is certainly some kind of imbecile...

[cyberpunkonline]

Loa

⌘ CODE LEFT OPEN ⌘

[driftward]

Bottom two are for me! Thank you for making these funky CRT icons!

first batch of CRT sale portraits done!

CARRD | VGEN | PATREON | KOFI

[xaviers-student-union]

Good mutant names for someone who manipulates energy?

Well, your mutant name should be unique and feel right. Since it's your name! And your name doesn't always have to be relevent to what you can do

However! Some ideas for an energy manipulator:

Surge, Flux, Aetherwave, Ripple, Golden, Vita, Animata, dynamism

Hmmmmmm I'm really bad at this! - M.🦇

[whitherwanderer]

New character musing...

I don't know who she is or how I'll use her yet and her name is TBD, but I DO know she is a radio host.

Remains to be seen whether she stumbled into a communications major at the Studium and ended up hosting a community radio show or if she's a known entity elsewhere (pending Solution 9 lore??).

Also up for debate is how the hell the radio works. Assuming the Sharlayan route ends up being more feasible, maybe she works with a group that's advancing linkpearl and linkshell technology. I like the idea of her referring to the "aetherwaves".

I just think cool and mysterious pirate radio host who is oddly aware of MSQ events a la Nora Night (Warframe) meets warm and off-putting vibes of community radio host Cecil Palmer (WTNV) would be fun. Maybe a little bit of Dale Cooper talking into his recorder to Diane (Twin Peaks) because it'd be hilarious if she needed a constant captive audience.

[interstellar-elf]

THERE'S A PERSON RIDING A FLOATING MECHA HORSE FLYING OVER THE SEINE!!!!!!

Me watching the Olympic Opening Ceremony:

What in the Assassin's Creed is going on here?!

[artlyloser]

i was reminded that I love this game and I love him

[majimasprincess]

just finished murder on eridanos!!! aaaaa it was so good :) i am a little dissapointed and im sure in a while ill be criticizing it, but at the moment im feelin good!!

[spaceratprodigy]

[ Peril on Gorgon ]

we're gonna be just like the heroes in those aetherwave serials!

Twitter | Instagram | Ko-fi | Inprnt | carrd

[ ** Commission Info ** ]

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 22. On Cloud Nine Characters: Zoissette Vauban Rating: Teen Summary: Zoissette 'Riot' Vauban might actually hate it here Notes: Cyberpunk AU, an Aetherwave story

"We should burn it all down," growled Yoho, as they left the elevator, finally getting clear of the Everkeep Arcology.

They had spent the day on Cloud Nine. On a literal Cloud Nine.

That was the name, anyroad, for Everkeep Arcology's entertainment district. The Arcology was a self-contained city within a city, and Cloud Nine in turn was a self-contained amusement park of sorts for the people who lived there. It was a grandiose spectacle, taking up what would have been ten by ten city blocks at street level.

It was a wonder.

They were arguably here for a meet, to drop off their ill gotten goods with the client who had contracted them. Riot had met with Mr. Johnson, and handed off the stolen data. He had been an interesting man. Most Mr. Johnson types were reserved, stern, severe sorts, but he was almost a jester, exuberant, joyful. She had given him the data and the codes to decrypt it. He had given her the team's payout, doubled it, and as an extended bonus, a set of full independent day passes to stay on Cloud Nine. He'd babbled and wandered off, and shortly after, she had handed out the passes and told the team to stay connected over the BAT-TAC-NET and otherwise enjoy their day.

And it was a good day, really. The work they had gotten paid for was exactly the kind of work Riot preferred, work where the megacorporations stole from each other and poked each other in the eye. The kind of work which would cause shareholder distress, but not result in a hab block's worth of wage slaves to suddenly scramble for new employment opportunities. Clean work, bloodless this time.

Also not the kind of work that wound up with her chest being made concave again. That was nice.

The team had wandered off, not a one of them ever having been immersed in such an interesting take on luxury. Cloud Nine was a rich person's playground, to be sure, but it felt warm and real and welcoming, tasteful, happy, fun. It was a place of joy, a place where nobody had to worry about anything. There were kiosks where one could indulge in almost any pleasure they might imagine. Places for people to go and do things that met almost any interest they might have. The place was full of people, busy but not crowded, noisy but not loud.

Nyx had been the first one to vanish, and her BAT-TAC-NET icon flashed to overwatch. Riot was not surprised at this. The little entity would be happiest just observing, and she was not sure there was any earthly need it desired that would be met by this sort of place anyroad.

Digit was next, wandering off, periodically expression amazement at the network architecture of the place, talking in excited rapid tones. He couldn't crack the security here, of course, but he didn't need to. The local security seemed to not mind the light amount of electronic support the team needed, and so Digit diligently kept the team in contact with one another and helped keep an eye on the digital landscape.

However, he was in wonderland. The host here was beyond ultraviolet rating, apparently. It boasted a more real than real virtual reality environment, apparently, but did not have the earmarks of better-than-life signal boosting. Good enough to live a comfortable and long virtual life in, not so good that it would have fried someone's synapses to uselessness. And then he found the virtual assistants, virtual pets, system agents, and eventually Riot just killed his feed to only respond to an override from him. She did not mind his excitement, just decided to leave him to it.

Valentine nudged Riot, and shared his augmented reality feed with her. She looked over. "Complimentary escorts... and complimentary services," she said. "Anyone you recognize?"

"No, and that's weird, don't you rather think?" he said, closing up the feed again. "I'm going to go take a look around, see if I can't get some commcodes. Maybe if I'm nice to the right worker they'll let me into the worker crawlspaces."

Riot had been trying to find those herself. Place like this, it should have an entire second traversal space, for any workers to come and go nearly invisibly. Underground walkways, hidden doors. "Keep me posted, stay out of trouble. This is not a run." He nodded, and vanished into the crowd.

This place was too nice for Yoho. She was doing her usual shtick, hamming it up, schmoozing, being everyone's friend. Just being larger than life. It didn't take too long before she was raiding kiosks for all she could gather, talking to every one they passed that might have been a worker instead of a guest - and Riot did have to admit, it could be hard to tell, some people seeming to melt from one role to the next effortlessly - and eventually, she too wandered off.

I want to punch someone in the face, Yoho said over comms not so much later.

I've been invited to punch someone in the face, came across even later, her voice slightly awed even as it was incredulous. Riot checked in on her feed, and saw that Yoho was signing up for a go in the combat arena.

Of course the place had a combat arena.

Solitaire had been guarded since they entered, but Riot had caught her looking upwards and wide-eyed. When they had each began to wander the space freely, she had expressed how astounded she was at the rich aetherscape that the place apparently held. Spirits existed here, freely, and were mingling in their own way among the population. And then she had gotten lost upon finding out that the library covered the latest in aetherological research matters, and was free for her perusal for as long as she wished. Well, free was perhaps the wrong word. Gratis, was perhaps more accurate. Well, the team was not paying for it, and Solitaire had been left, contented pored through tomes that were very possibly impossible to find elsewhere.

Riot just moved on. Moved through the space. She kept her big grin on her face, because she was still a big warborg, and while she may have had an all day pass, she was not eager to too quickly give someone a reason to kick her out for being made of metal in public. However, most people here just seemed to give her a curious glance over before moving on. A few asked for a picture with her, but were gracious when she demurred.

She figure out why fast enough. She was far from the only warborg here. The others were subtle. Well, not really subtle. They were part of the decor, part of the functionality, interacting cheerfully with everyone around them. Their armor was painted and formed to look intimidating, but in an entertainment kind of way. They looked like knights, or like samurai, or one even looked like a futuristic sort of space infantry combatant.

Riot stared at that one for a long time. He looked up, and waved jauntily at her. She felt her grin become a bit more rictus, but she wiggled her fingers back at him, trying to at least seem friendly, and then moved on.

She walked close to the combat arena area, wondering how Yoho was getting on, and starting to feel a bit like she herself wanted to punch someone. She did not find Yoho, but she did find an impossibly large enclosure where warforms were being pitted against each other. She had not seen one since near the end of the war, and here were several, apparently, for entertainment. She thought they were mostly myths to most people. Hybrid chimerised animals that had been heavily augmented. Bioware, cybernetics, magically trained, magically enhanced with special made foci, even boasting robust augmented reality interlinks which had been custom programmed to help them be more lethal. She watched for a bit, as the crowd around chattered and pointed and excitedly babbled. A quick look at the augmented reality feed, and she could see various statistics on them.

The might creatures crashed together, firing soft rounds that nevertheless cracked with power, one of them beginning to warm up a powerful elemental blast. Arms waved and people were obviously into it, but there was none of the loud raucous uncontrolled jubilant cheering she would have expected.

She moved on.

She found herself moving away. Trying to find an away. Still grinning at everyone she passed, still giving nods to people who acknowledged her, still keeping her hands in her pockets and her shoulder slightly hunched. Hiding was out of the question, but she could minimize how much she stood out.

Not enough, apparently. A man fell in step beside her. "Well, hello," he said.

"Hi." Keep it short. Do not engage. Do not be rude, hope he will get bored and wander off soon enough.

"How are you enjoying your time here so far?"

She grinned a little bigger. Too big, she knew, it would be off-putting, but not in any way that would escalate. In fact hopefully it would de-escalate this guy into going elsewhere.

"Great place. Lots to do."

"And yet, you have done none of it."

"You watching me?" That came off sharper than intended.

"Of course. We try to make sure all our guests and workers are looked after adequately. Not so much as to spy, of course, privacy must be respected, but it is my duty to try to check in from time to time."

They had finally reached somewhere Riot wanted to be. The outer edge of Cloud Nine. While it was lit on the inside by an artificial sun floating across its ceiling as part of its artificial sky, it nevertheless also had windows to outside along its edges. There were few people here. There was not much of interest to see outside, after all. All the interesting things were in.

She stopped here, and looked the man over. This was the most alone she had managed to get since arriving, and it was practically just him and her, and well, he did not seem to be wanting to go away anytime soon.

There was something off, and Riot could not quite put her finger on it. She looked the man over, up and down, reassessing him. Pleasantly attractive enough, she guessed, in a borderline androgynous kind of way. Exquisitely tailored suit, which did not mean much in this place. In fact, if it was not for his proximity and the fact that she had been talking to him, she was not sure he would stand out at all. He had the kind of face that would get lost in a crowd.

His readings were not unusual in any way. Nothing that would stand out. Thermographic signature, ultrasound profile, radar return. Riot had all the usual human senses, and many extra senses beyond that, all refined, all enhanced or augmented in some manner, and none of them indicated anything at all was wrong.

Almost on instinct, she punched him, and only barely for a split second regretted not warning the team she was about to do something that would get them all in trouble.

But trouble would not be coming. Her analysis software finally flashed an alarm in her vision, as deception warfare protocols flagged him as false and highlighted him. Confidence factors as to what he was exactly dropped to low double digit percentages, and her BAT-TAC-NET software began to run combat solutions against him.

She frowned. Her fist was halfway through his form, and the oddest voxel static fizzing around where her forearm intersected his chest.

He laughed, a noise that was hollow, somehow.

"Few that see past the illusion," he said. "I knew you were special."

Riot just looked between his face and the hole she had punched through in him, and cleared her throat, pulling her arm back. He reformed, and her systems continued to flag him as false, even as confidence parameters shifted back to where they were before, uncertain. She killed the BAT-TAC-NET simulation, no point to even thinking about getting in a fight here. He would not be unflagged, not until she cleared it, but to her senses, he once again seemed fully human.

"If you say so," she said. She waved her hand in the air as though she had actually hit something, as though to shake it off.

"I do," he said. "I know a little of your work history. An obsolete retired military prosthetic soldier, and not that long ago you went up against one that was state of the art, with full powered armor support, and you won."

Riot's smile faltered, and came down a bit. But she saw no real point to trying to deny or redirect about the matter.

"I walked away," she said. "And got my chest caved in for the effort."

"And quite the remarkable crew you have assembled and managed to run. For years, no less. Hard work, hard life. Not often grey operatives last so long."

"Is that what this is, then? Job interview? I knew there was no way we would have been invited to a place like this just for a payout. Or is this a trap?"

Gods, she hoped it wasn't a trap, but he laughed again, that hollow noise once more.

"No trap. Just curious. I must admit, I did want to see you up close."

"Right," she said. "So. You must be the Engineered Sophant, then."

The man bowed. "You may call me Mirage, if you like."

"Cute."

He smiled. She still couldn't tell what it was that had put her off in the first place. It was not as though he was uncanny or anything like that.

And in fact, until she put her fist through him, he seemed very real. Now that she had taken it back out, the illusion had returned. Her smile finally fell off.

She was so tired.

"Well, Riot. I would like to ask again. What do you think of this place?"

"You more or less built it, right? Whole thing. First building designed from the ground up by the first intelligence that was also designed from the ground up."

"You know my propaganda well enough."

Riot looked back into Cloud Nine. They were high up, relative to most of the place. She could see the roller coaster going through its loops. She could look down, and in her vision, highlight where the library was, with Solitaire. She could still tell sort of where the combat area was. It was a land of food and drink a plenty, no charge for anything, because just by being here you had earned it. A place where warborgs were a curiosity, not a threat. There was mingling, dating areas, magic demonstrations, augmented reality attractions and fun for everyone.

It was a gigantic playground, for people who had never had to care about anything, ever.

"I hate it."

The man made a thoughtful noise.

"Interesting, interesting. I tried to make a place that would have at least something to appeal to everyone. I have found achieving that objective so very difficult. Something I should change, perhaps? Or do you just want to destroy it all in some kind of impulse of disgust?"

She was so, so tired. Of everything.

Riot turned, looked out the window, scanning, until she found the section of the city that she wanted. She pointed to it.

"That right there is a z-sector," she said. "One of the poorest areas of this city. Let us say I directed water from this party. Food. Supplies. How much would this party be diminished to provide good food, clean water, reasonable shelter, security, to those people? For a day? A week? A month, a year, a decade?"

The man shrugged. "I would not need to divert it from the party at all," he said. "Everkeep is more than Cloud Nine. I could diminish current operations in no way the people here would perceive or care about and provide what you are asking after."

Riot nodded, and let her hand drop. "And it would not change a damned thing," she said.

"It would change it for those people."

"But not the overall system. I would do it, I would improve those people's lives. But I also know it would not change the system that allowed you to be built, allowed this place to be built, allowed any of this, allowed that. There would still be places just like that, all around the world. And places like this, still built on their backs."

She turned, and gestured back inward, at the amusement park, the kiosks, the restaurants, the entire epitome of the edifice of capitalism.

"I do not want to destroy this. It is just a symptom, and I do not begrudge the people here for who they are and what they have. I bet even those who think about what it took, they do not understand it in any real way. This is their life. This is what they know. This is all they have known, and if I tried to tell them otherwise, it just would not make sense to them. But sure, destroy it. Let us say I do. Bring back a force that you could not stop. Roll in, and destroy everything."

She gestured out the window. "That would still exist. It wouldn't change anything.

"So no. I do not want to destroy this place. I just want it to stop existing at the expense of those people, out there. Of everyone. I do n'o hate your little world you have made here. I hate what it takes to make it happen. I hate that I do not know how to change that. But I do not want to destroy anything."

She stuck her hands in her pockets, and frowned.

"Well, okay. That battle coliseum with the warforms, I would destroy that."

"Your friend Yoho participates in blood sport, does she not? I don't see the difference between one arena and the other."

"She gets a choice in the matter, unlike those creatures."

"Does she? Do any of you have a choice? Does not seem like much of one, if it is between shelter and sustenance."

Riot looked over at him, and he shrugged at her.

"Right. You're only the second engineered sophant I've ever encountered," she said. "I suppose we must seem closer to animals than to thinking beings to you. "

"And the first one you have ever encountered is so much smaller. They have managed to disappear off my security mapping, though. Well done to them."

Riot glanced at the BAT-TAC-NET readout in her vision. It happened so often, that she had not even noticed that Nyx had vanished off it again, her entry in the squad list showing an empty icon with an err:disconnect message.

She smiled a little bit at that. A comm call might get Nyx back, but better to leave it.

"I'm not going to help you with that."

"Was worth the attempt. You are very clever, Miss Riot."

"Right," she said. She shook her head. "But yeah. Klynt could choose to go without either if she wanted."

"To intentionally choose suffering." The man looked over at Riot. "Like you do every day."

Riot slowly turned to look at him.

"I choose survival every day," she said.

"The imperative of all life," the man responded. "And you are miserable for it. Your stress markers are obvious. You get shot at to make enough money for shelter. You eat bland food to sustain that obsolete body. And I do not think a well adjusted person would go around grinning all the time, trying to cover up what they are with such a paltry mask."

"Is this some stupid serial? The 'artificial intelligence' that uses some bizarre straw logic with shit axioms to make an argument for the protagonist to tear down in the third act?"

"And what argument would you make for your existence?"

"I would not. But here I am. And I choose to live. Sure, it is shit sometimes, I will grant you that. All life is suffering, etcetera, acceptance mantra. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe it will be worse. Maybe I step outside your beautiful gilded cage here and get run over by a tank and that is my end, spare parts and a grease stain."

Riot turned, and strode right at the man, not breaking pace. He did not bother to get out of the way as she walked right through him.

"But I choose to live anyroad. That choice is my prerogative as a human."

She turned, facing him again.

"I am leaving," she said. "Find a more interesting philosophical thread for your next conversation partner."

She stuck her hands in her pockets, and strode away.

Fascinating, thought Mirage in thoughts levinic.

Riot called the team up. Gathered them together.

And now they were here on the street again, outside the elevator, the impressive edifice of the Arcology sloping up away and behind them, Yoho's invective following them out.

She was not the only one. They all had noticed Riot's demeanor in the elevator on the way down. Yoho now had a hand gently on her shoulder. Solitaire was on the other side, one hand lightly touching an arm. Nyx had moved to stand in front, between her and the world, Digit next to them, hands up, obviously busy, scanning for threats in VR. And Valentine was at her back.

All had moved around her. To protect her. And had waited until they were free and outside of the building to speak.

"Not often you're not wearing your face, friend," said Valentine, his voice cautious.

Yoho lifted her hand to clap it down again. "We got your back," she said, and then the team spread out a little.

Just as Riot had showed them, once. Close enough to support one another. Able to block for any other. Not so close that a single attack was like to take them all out.

A team. A brotherhood.

Riot raised her hand in the air, bringing up accounts in her augmented reality display, and disbursed their payout. Digit whistled low as the numbers came down.

"Double payout," he said. Then he turned slightly to look up at Riot. "We in the clear, then?"

"Yeah. We're clear," she said. "Let's get out of here."

The team nodded, and coordinated over the BAT-TAC-NET channels, moving as a coordinated team until they were back in their vehicles and on their way out. Solitaire gave her one last look and a pat before leaving, and eventually, Yoho and Riot were in the oversized van that Riot preferred to drive.

It swayed back and forth, as the two heavies climbed aboard, and the engine started, heading out.

"Anything you wanna talk about?" asked Yoho.

Riot didn't take her eyes off the road.

"...want to go help the Antecedent?" she asked.

"Yo-ho, yo-ho, my big strong arms for a bottle of rum," sang Yoho.

Riot smiled thinly. "Let's go help some people," she said.

Yoho nodded, looking out the window. After a moment, she turned her head to look over at Riot. "That place sucked," she said. "Best I'm going to eat for the next forever, though."

Riot smiled a bit, and laughed. "Yeah, right?"

"How you holding up? You almost never drop face."

The van bounced around for a little bit, as Riot thought.

It was just a Mirage.

But what mattered, what really mattered, was that her team had seen through it, and they had her back, and now they were safe.

And paid. That was important.

Yet another successful mission.

She smiled. A real one, and looked over at Yoho.

"Forget the Arco," she said. "I'm doing great."

Yoho crowed, and broke into full a belted shanty, as they drove down towards the z-sector, where the Antecedent's mission was and a night of decent useful work was waiting for them.

[bearcina]

"I Don't Do Botany, Anymore."

Ruth Bellamy/Ophelia Amana

E rated because of the nature of the game and DLC, however no smut.

Set after Murder on Eridanos, this is your fair warning for SPOILERS!!

Ophelia felt a warm hand on her cold, cold shoulder. It felt like a vice was slowly wrapping around her throat.

"I don't do botany, anymore."

Ophelia shares an evening with Helen

"Miss Bellamy?" Ophelia quietly called, stepping into the penthouse bedchamber. The aetherwave star was sitting at the computer and typing away, but stopped and looked to the Investigator.

"Investigator, it's nice to see you." She said, and cracked a small smile. "I can't thank you enough."

Ophelia smiled back after a minute.

"What will you do now, if you don't mind me asking?" Ophelia asked. She shut the door behind her and meandered over to sit on the bed.

"With Belinda gone, I think I'll be leaving the colony." Ruth sighed, and tapped a few keys to quit her session on the computer.

"Yeah? I hope you find somewhere nice. Somewhere far from this mess." Ophelia smiled, she had done the same thing when she left Earth. Originally planned on working a remote botany outpost, and maybe running away with a few sweethearts.

"You care so much for such a stranger, inspector." The actress smiled and leaned in. "I don't know anything about you, but you've already found out more about me than anyone else has in many years," she confessed.

Ophelia blushed and rubbed her neck. She had a talent for rooting out secrets.

"Well, I'm certainly an open book for you, Miss Bellamy." Ophelia said, and leaned in a little more.

The actress was silent, and studied the form of the inspector relaxing on the unmade bed.

"Who are you really, inspector? Not the person you show to people, but the real you." Ruth asked. She thought it was fair, the inspector hadn't even offered her real name, preferring investigator, or captain.

Ophelia stopped smiling after a second. Then she started to turn pale, and a flighty look appeared in her eyes.

"O-oh, it doesn't really matter." She stammered.

Ruth hummed noncommittally, and squinted at the squirming captain. She had been so calm and composed in their previous chats.

Ophelia let silence fill the room.

The actress didn't offer anything else.

"You just wouldn't believe me if I told you, it sounds almost like the plot to a horror movie back home." Ophelia sighed, and shifted to get comfortable.

"A horror movie?" The actress repeated, now interested even more. No one called them movies anymore... Serials dominated the aetherwave.

"Yeah." Ophelia sighed. "Straight out of my worst nightmares." She patted the bed beside her, it was going to be a long story.

Ruth joined her after a moment.

"My name is Ophelia Amana, former botanist, and Hope colonist. I was selected by Spacers Choice to board the Hope for my ability to make things grow." Ophelia said. Her heart sped up, pounding like a jackrabbit in her chest. "I was going to be placed on Terra One, or what's now called Monarch, and I was to build a greenhouse and make the Earth crops grow in the alien soil."

Ruth frowned, the Hope was still lost.

Ophelia kept going after a moments pause.

"But... As you know, the Hope got lost. Very lost." Her heart was pounding faster and harder. Her head swam. "Seventy years late kinda lost." She was going to spill her story, all of it. Ruth couldn't do anything against her with it, if she even believed it.

"I got rescued recently, got thawed out. Scientist said he needed someone with the right amount of grit and brains, and I fit the bill almost perfectly. The botanist part ended up as just a footnote compared to what I do now..."

Ophelia felt a warm hand on her cold, cold shoulder. It felt like a vice was slowly wrapping around her throat.

"I don't do botany, anymore."

She had so much more she could say, so much she wanted to say, but it was like her heart was shattering.

"I'm sorry, but I've got- I've got to go check on something." Ophelia wiped her cheeks and dashed out the bedroom door.

"Investigator, it seems you're ready to leave Eridanos. I can't say I blame you, I'll also be leaving soon." Ruth said, delicately touching Ophelia's arm to get her attention. She had been waiting for the elusive girl to pass by.

Ophelia jumped, and squeaked.

"Ah! Hello, Miss Bellamy!" She stammered, flustering quickly. She had a duffel bag in the crook of her other arm and was on her way back to her home on the Unreliable. "I'm more than ready to take a hot shower on my ship and park out somewhere alone."

Ruth smiled sweetly back at her, and started walking with her.

"You still have yet to tell me about yourself, Ophelia." Ruth chuckled, leaning against her, "I hope you didn't plan on leaving without telling me..."

Ophelia stopped at the ramp to her ship with a defeated sigh.

"I..." She muttered, "I'm no one special, really... Just Ophelia."

"That can't be true, you certainly seemed to have a lot to say last time I asked." Ruth teased. She turned Ophelia's head to face her, and she smiled at the pink dusting her pale cheeks and neck.

Ophelia shook her head.

"I'm just a freelancer now, Miss Bellamy. I run supplies and end problems."

"But how are you fareing, if you are from the Hope, you must be experiencing some culture shock, maybe even..."

Ophelia yelped and shook her head.

She nervously chuckled, "I came to Halcyon with a blanket and a dream, but I woke up so late... My first memories here are less than fond, and my dream has long since been shattered to dust. I woke up without my blanket, and was hurtling towards Terra Two before I could think."

Ruth gave her the same look Max, ADA, and even Zora had given her.

Pity.

"This colony chewed me up and spit me out like a piece of old gum, and it's done the same to you and your sister." Ophelia muttered, leaning closer to the aetherwave star on her arm. "You've got the same chance I had seventy years ago, Ruth, take it before you can't."

Ruth didn't have much to say after that, so she just nodded a few times.

"Goodbye, Ruth. Be careful out there." Ophelia gave her a strained smile. It hurt. It hurt to let go of the star she just met.

She felt a cold gun get pressed into her hands, Ruth giving her a sweet smile.

"You'll need this more than I will, Ophelia. And who knows, maybe you'll be a botanist again." Ruth said. It was the Needler, her personal sidearm. And she was giving it to Ophelia.

The aetherwave star leaned in and gave Ophelia a chaste goodbye kiss, then walked back into the mess of the shipyard.

[jumpship90]

“I’ve read a lot about this Christmas holiday of yours. I never expected it to be quite like this.”

For jaq and phin pls 🥰

Thank you so much for this prompt! :) Ok, I am super late with this but I reckon it still counts as Christmas as we're pre-new year so here are roughly 1700 words of pure romantic fluff of Jaq and Phineas enjoying their first Christmas together aboard The Hope

Pixelated flames flickered away on the aetherwave screen and Phineas Welles gave a contented, heavy sigh as he sank onto the sofa. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this full in his life.

“You know, I’ve read a lot about this Christmas holiday of yours. I never expected it to be quite like this.”

Jaq chuckled where they were slumped beside him. They languidly draped an arm about his shoulders, knocking his paper crown askew, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, very much so. Though, I’m not sure I’ll need to eat again for several days.”

The feast had been like something from the old Auntie Cleo’s ads from his youth showing the perfect, wholesome, Halcyon family crammed around a table groaning under the weight of the food. Only, in place of ruddy-faced parents and beaming children, the long benches in the canteen had been filled with his lab-coated colleagues and the Hope’s support staff, all tucking into a spread that had been carefully prepared over the course of the morning. Not all of the colonists celebrated in what he was informed was the traditional sense, and there had been other holidays besides this one, but this was Jaq’s favourite and so Phineas had decided it was his, too.

Jaq hummed in agreement and patted their stomach.

“Not quite a turkey with the trimmings, but that was easily the best meal I’ve eaten since thawing out.”

There’d been a great deal of debate over the food in the weeks leading up to today. Everyone seemed to have a different signature dish, a perfect recipe or a family tradition that had to be incorporated. There’d been boarst wrapped in cysty-bacon, mounds of golden roasted potatoes, vegetables fried with cysty-bits, and in pride of place at the centre of the table, the largest chicken Phineas had ever laid eyes upon. This alone would have been more than enough but several colonists had insisted that the meal wasn’t complete without trifle topped with purpleberry-pieces followed by crackers and wooly-cow cheese. After all that, the walk back to their quarters had been quite the undertaking and Phineas was feeling warm and drowsy, his eyes slipping closed.

Jaq nudged him. “No sleeping just yet, you still need to open your present.”

Oh yes, presents. How could he forget after the weeks of agonising over precisely what to give them? Jaq had explained that it should be something small and personal, and preferably inexpensive. Which suited him just fine. He didn’t often leave the Hope, and vanishingly rarely without his partner at his side, so it would have been near impossible to purchase something without them discovering the surprise. No, he had turned his ingenuity rather than his bits toward finding them the perfect gift.

“Come on, we can snooze after this,” Jaq said, getting to their feet with a grunt. They offered him a hand that Phineas gratefully accepted, struggling upright. Good law, all this celebrating was exhausting.

The tree had appeared a week ago, lugged over one broad shoulder from the Unreliable and deposited in the corner of their shared room. Apparently, Jaq had liberated it from the vaults of the hidden Museum of Earth recently uncovered in Byzantium. It was, they explained, a replica of the fir tree that had filled their home each year at this season, and that they must decorate it together. Phineas didn’t quite grasp the significance of hanging coloured paper ribbons and taped together ornaments on a plant, but it mattered to Jaq so he had thrown himself into it with gusto. A few chipped glass flasks and test tubes painted with snowflakes had served well to adorn the plastic spruce and Jaq had been thrilled by it. At the top sat a star, cut from spare sheet metal they’d been using to patch up the hold. It twinkled in the dancing light of the screen as he eased himself down to the woolly cow rug before the fake fire.

“Yours is a little rough around the edges,” Jaq said as they rummaged beneath the tree, groping around the floor for something. They emerged a second later clutching a rectangular object carefully wrapped in brown paper and tied with a ribbon. “I couldn’t find the mineral oil I wanted to finish it with so had to make do with the stuff in the storeroom.”

They gave a near shy smile as they handed him the gift, sitting back on their heels to watch as he peeled away the wrapping a layer at a time until an intricately carved spoon appeared.

“You made this yourself?” he asked, turning the utensil in his hands, marvelling at the workmanship. He’d seen Jaq take apart any number of electrical items and knew that they were talented when it came to mechanics but he’d no idea they could turn their hand to carpentry as well.

They nodded. “Where my family are from, sailors used to give them to their sweetheart before they went to sea, as a token of love and a way of winning their heart. If it was accepted, traditionally that meant you were a couple.”

Phineas ran his fingers over the wood, following the grain. He could imagine the hours of work that had gone into this, could perfectly picture Jaq leant over the bench in the Unreliable’s hold, calloused hands cutting and chiselling, sanding and smoothing, their handsome brow tugged into a neat V of concentration as they worked.

“It’s made from a mock apple tree we’ve transplanted to the New Hope Centre build site. The anchor’s a symbol for safety and security, and these bits, they’re called celtic knots, they mean everlasting. Eternal.”

He glanced up at that to find Jaq watching him intently, a faint flush to their cheeks visible in the twinkling lights strung about the tree.

“I’ve not worked with wood since I was kid, so I hope it’s alright?”

It was a good deal more than alright, Phineas thought. Handmade items were rare in Halcyon, given colonists did not usually have the time nor energy to create them. He knew he held something precious; a link to Jaq’s past, the fruits of their toils, a physical manifestation of their regard for him. He ran his fingertips over the curve of the handle with reverence.

“It’s splendid,” he said, setting the spoon down cautiously between them so that he could take their hand. “And I wholeheartedly accept your gift, my intrepid sailor.”

Jaq grinned, ducking their head. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do,” he assured them, giving their hand a squeeze before releasing it to go hunting under the tree for his own present. “Now, let me just find . . . aha! Here we are!”

A frisson of nervous excitement sparked in his chest as he slid a thin, square package out from between the branches. He handed it over with care, worrying at his lip as he watched his partner slide a finger beneath the fold of the wrapping paper. Stars, after what Jaq had given him he hoped this would be a suitable gift in return.

Once all the paper sat in a pile by their feet, Jaq was left delicately holding a sheet of plastic. A faintly confused smile turned up the corner of their lips.

“It’s . . . a brain scan?” they said, looking to him for confirmation.

“Yes! My brain!”

He leant over to better show them what they were looking at.

“To be precise, it is a scan of my brain showing the nucleus accumbens – that’s a structure that mediates emotional and pleasure processing – lit up as bright as our Christmas tree.” He took Jaq’s hand, directing them to a bold, white patch between grey squiggles, circling it with a fingertip. “And you see all these sections? The colours here? These are the dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin pathways. Increased activity here is associated with experiencing romantic love.”

He beamed up at them. “Everything you see here is what’s going on in my brain when I think about you.”

Jaq sat silent, processing, and Phineas near reckoned he could hear their own brain ticking over that information. He watched their gaze running over the image as softly as their fingers, deep brown eyes moving from one luminous patch of grey matter to the next with a look of wonder.

“This”- he tapped the plastic film -“this is irrefutable, scientific proof of my love for you.”

Their mouth parted at that but no sound passed them. Their throat bobbed around a hard swallow and Phineas found himself with the sudden urge to fill the silence for them.

“I wanted to see if there was any difference in emotional processing in the brains of those awoken from extended cryosleep, and of course, that required a comparison to a non-colonist brain, and you know I have always been a strong believer in testing the science on oneself . . .”

He knew he was rambling but they seemed to need a moment so he continued on, explaining the basis of the experiment that had led to this particularly delightful illustration of his musings on them.

“ . . . and it can get rather dull lying there in the scanner, so naturally my mind wandered to you and –“

He didn’t get any further as suddenly Jaq’s lips found their sense of purpose, impressing upon his own a kiss that left his head spinning. He found himself gripping tight to their shirt for balance.

“Thank you,” they breathed, their head pressed to his own. “It’s perfect, Phin.”

When eventually they drew back, he could see pure, unfiltered affection writ large across their face and a warmth shining back at him from their eyes that could have engulfed a star. There was no need for a brain scan; Jaq made no attempt to hide the strength of their feeling for him.

Phineas uncurled his fingers and flattened his palm against their chest. The steady, reassuring beat of their heart pulsed against his skin. He gave a thoughtful nod and kissed the tip of their nose.

“Well, yes, of course it is.” He gave them a mischievous smirk, eyes twinkling. “That’s the mind of a genius you’re looking at.”

The delighted laughter that burst from Jaq’s throat rang about the room and a moment later, their fingers tangled in his hair as they pulled him in for a deeper kiss. As Phineas found himself pressed back into the soft embrace of wooly fur, the lights of the tree softly blinking above him, he considered that truly there was something to this talk of magic at Christmas.

Posting this was delayed by me going down a rabbit hole about brain scans and trying to come up with something suitably clever for Phineas to say regarding reward processing centres and the rest. I won’t pretend any of what I’ve written is particularly accurate but if you want to read some of the same articles I did then you can find out more here:

https://www.livescience.com/18468-relationship-longevity-brain-scans.html here -

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2954158/

https://www.medicaldaily.com/what-love-mri-scan-reveals-what-stages-romantic-love-youre-brain-map-326080

I also watched this fascinating video of people thinking about love in an MRI scanner and trying to “win” at loving the most - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1npQEdTsF8

Also, for anyone interested in the history of Welsh love spoons, there’s a bit of info about the tradition and the different symbols here - https://angelwoodcraft.co.uk/history-of-the-welsh-love-spoon/

[thedevillionaire]

Much Better

A supernatural soap opera moment, Cerberus and Kia, featuring Aera (Sorcery Leader) - and the Demon lord's nemesis**, birchbark. As always, any and all questions welcomed, and thank you endlessly for taking the time to read my fics and meet my darlings. 💗💗 **or one of them, anyway.

-- Aera answers the archive chamber door with a fair bit more force and a significantly more frazzled expression than Kia had been expecting, and she double checks the time because of it. Okay, she’s definitely early, but not super early. Still, these hierarchy meetings often didn’t run to schedule, so…

“Hey, sorry, I can wait if…”

“Oh, gods, you’re welcome to him.” Aera turns to yell over her shoulder, “DeVille! Your much better half is here!” before returning her attention to Kia. She smirks wryly at the sound of a violent sneeze and a muted blessing or two from further inside. “He’s been a total delight.”

She addresses this as much to Cerberus as to Kia, the Demon king joining them at the threshold, more than a little dishevelled, crumpled tissues in hand and any semblance of patience clearly a thing of the past.

“Don’t expect me to appease your ridiculous lack of foresight with unwarranted courtesies,” Cerberus counters, his tone one of vivid, seething finality despite the congestion blunting his consonants. “If you’d given any thought to this…how th…hH… HHAHTSSCHuu!” He pushes chaotic ebony back from his face, sniffles forcefully. “This entire place is an allergen!”

“Entire place.” Aera scoffs. “Right.”

Cerberus blows his nose with the rough impatience of someone who is entirely sick of having to do so, excuses himself all the same, and sniffles again immediately against an itch that refuses to recede. “You have the room temperature set to something just shy of subarctic for reasons I cannot fathom and a level of birchbark usage enough to permeate the damn walls, which frankly should count as an entirety on its own, and as per usual, the place is a dustbowl.” He challenges Aera directly. “What exactly am I missing?”

Kia remains in wide-eyed, silent observance, her attentions fixed, intent mesmeric, on her bonded in beautiful disarray. She glances across at Aera, whose reaction is…very much not the same.

The Sorcery Leader’s reply is clipped, curt. “This is not your department.”

“Of…” His breath snags on urgent need, desperate and overwhelming, and Cerberus against all his wishes is forced to abandon his riposte to consuming physical insistence. He Creates the latest in a series of handkerchiefs he’s completely lost count of now and buries his face in it. “Ah-TSSCH-uu! Ahh-HEHTSCHUU! Goddamn it.” Another determined sniffle and he presses the back of his hand against his nose with significant force, returns to his point forthwith. “Of course it’s not my department! My department gets dusted more than once a… hh-HH…once a centuryyiAAHTSCHHuu!” The relentless tickle escalates demanding, unstoppable, and there’s nothing he can do about it but sneeze again, heavy, powerful. “Hh-AHHTSCHHUU! Gods!” He sniffles repeatedly, infuriated, and rubs irritated, reddened eyes and nose, wills still-hitchy breathing to submit for long enough to conclude with a furious, “And there’s no damn birchbark in it!”

Kia offers him a quiet blessing as he excuses himself and blows his nose again, which he acknowledges with a Mindsent apology laced with frustration.

“I thought you didn’t have a dust allergy. That’s the official line, right? Until you do, that is.” Aera rolls her eyes. “Godssakes, Cerbie.”

Cerberus, with a quiet sound somewhere between a dark chuckle and a snarl, flexes a hand; miniature wildfires dartdancing across his fingers for the briefest of moments the only warning before the chamber door is wreathed in virulent flames, crumbling to smoking ash and embers in seconds.

Aera makes a small startled half-shriek that she quickly redirects to outrage. “Holy crap, Cerberus, what the hell?!”

“Oh, did that inconvenience you at all? If only I’d been able to foresee that somehow and perhaps take steps to prevent it.”

“Seriously?! Okay, fine! Okay! Point taken! Gods! You burnt down my door, you…”

“You know perfectly well you can fix that in minutes. I, on the other hand, am probably going to be sneezing all night.” An indignant sniffle follows, pronounced and determined, though despite his best efforts his breathing remains erratic, unreliable. His brow creases slightly, his attention momentarily diverted as Kia Mindsends him pure sensation sympathy, calmative and gentle, and he meets her gaze in an appreciative, already shaky pause he knows is not going to last.

“I can fix it in minutes eventually! The Create part of it, sure! But I have to measure and prep and redo the whole…”

“Ah-HEHTSHhuu!”

Aera sighs, genuflects ostentatiously before straightening and raising a defiant middle finger. “Bless you, Your fucking Majesty. I’m done,” she snaps, and re-enters the chamber, Creating a makeshift temporary screen where the door used to be as she does so. She dearly wishes she could slam it.

“AHTSSCHUU! *snf!* Gods, honestly!” Cerberus turns his attention to Kia in vexed apology, anger shifting to a frustrated weariness. “Sorry, love. Excuse me.” He blows his nose firmly, rubbing it repeatedly in another futile effort to quiet the demanding itch, takes a deliberately cautious, unsteady breath he doesn’t truly trust.

“Bless you, hon.” Kia moves to him, places a gentle hand on his arm. “Should I even ask how your day’s been?”

“Argued with Aera, sneezed a lot. I’m fairly sure that covers it.” With a sharp, strong sniffle, he pushes newly disarrayed midnight from his face, manages a sardonic half-smile for his bonded. “You, darkling?”

Kia laughs softly, empathically. “Aw, sweetheart. Come here.” She embraces him warmly, wrapping one arm around his waist and reaching up with the other to weave her hand through his hair. On tiptoe, she touches a series of soft kisses to his neck in precursor to honeysultry whispersoft suggestion of never mind all that forget everything focus on me babe just me come here honey come here forget everything else now just me babe it’s alright and a Mindsent sensorial aetherwave of calm, of sanctuary, skin-on-skin heat and she moves closer again, cups his face in her hands, kisses him with lascivious invitation unmissable, relax sweetheart it’s over come to me and all is imagery and infusion suggestion distraction seduction take me home babe in flame and velvet heat and hot tub bedroom hearthside blazing slip between warm satin sheets in early night slowdance splendour sweetheart breathe now babe just me just us and she is perfect, she is haven and boudoir and everything, everything, everyth…

Well, almost everything.

Cerberus, wanting nothing more than to immerse in such pleasures and reciprocate without distraction, is nevertheless unable to do so; with a fleeting frown and helpless inhalation his focus dissolves in sudden desperate need and he stifles two rapid-fire sneezes against his shoulder. “hpt-XCH! hh…HXTchu!” Not enough, it’s never enough, and there’s not a thing he can do save submit. He conveys apology as best he can through watering eyes, brings Kia’s head with one firm arm tight against his chest in protection, and turns to sneeze into crooked elbow, powerful and possessing. “Huh-AAHTSSCHHuu!”

Kia’s pulse spikes and she gasps a constricted, involuntary Mm! and inhales deeply before purring a blessing still more breathless than she’d intended, as her beloved excuses himself with a quiet, exasperated groan, sniffles in unreliable recovery.

Cerberus shakes his head just very slightly, wondering pointedly – and not for the first time – if there’s any way that he can just eliminate silver birch from the face of the Underworld and be done with this nonsense once and for all, and looks at his bonded in consternation. “Love, I meant it when I said I’ll probably be sneezing the rest of the...”

Kia curls her hand around the back of his neck, through his hair, silences his words with impassioned kiss, and Mindsends a resolute, heatcertain :It doesn’t matter.:

“It’s just… *SNF!* ...chances are fairly high that I’ll sneeze on you.” A hitch of breath he forcibly suppresses, knows it can’t last.

:Promises, promises.:

“I…I don’t…”

“It. Doesn’t. Matter,” she repeats, entwining herself around him once again. “Trust me.” Her touch heatseeking, direct, undeniable. “I am going to make everything—” An insistent, inviting certainty infused luxurious and redolent as she switches to Mindsend, the crimson charisma carnal.

:—so much better.:

--

[jackalgirl]

WIP Wednesday

On a branch of the Worldstree where it is still Wednesday, my dudes

     -- Dimas --

      Dimas Bryansen waited until the service was over, then sidled up to Vicar DeSoto while he was tidying up his notes and ritual.  DeSoto looked up curiously.  “Mr. Bryansen,” he said.  “Thank you for coming.”      “It’s me who should be doing the thanking,” Dimas said.  “It was inspirational.  Gave me lots to think on.  To say true, though, I didn’t really expect you to come back.  Are you staying?”      “Likely not,” DeSoto said gently.  “We’ve still got work to do elsewhere, though if it works out well, well, we’ll see.”      “Oh,” said Dimas.  We, is it?  He was silent for a moment, then looked out across the chancel at the stranger.  He saw that the Vicar followed his gaze.  Both of them looked at her for a moment, and Dimas glanced at DeSoto out of the corner of his eye.      Dimas jutted his chin in the stranger’s direction.  “Aim to make her your missus, do you?” He asked.      The vicar shook his head shortly.  “I aim to make her my wife.”      “Wife, huh?  Sounds serious.  She must be smart, beautiful, and funny, then.”      DeSoto gave him an odd look.  “What?”      Dimas made a fist and popped one finger up for each point.  “Smart, beautiful, and funny.  That’s the way it is in all the serials, right?   The perfect partner — the perfect formula for a great meet-cute.”      DeSoto blinked.  “‘Meet-cute’? Is that what you think this is?” “Come on, come on,” Dimas said.  “You’re trying to tell me you want this woman not just as a consort, but as your wife.  So, she’s smart, right?  She’s beautiful — I suppose; I think she’s kind of odd-looking, but what do I know — and she’s funny?”      The other man heaved a great, weary sigh.  “Are those really your criteria for a desirable partner?  Something you got from aetherwave serials?  It’s no wonder you’re still alone,” he added, muttering.      “Don’t dodge the question, vicar.”      Apparently, DeSoto had decided that the only way out of this conversation was through it.  “She’s more than smart,” he said.  “She’s intelligent.”      “What’s the difference?” Dimas wanted to know. “Being smart just means you know things,” DeSoto answered.  “Being intelligent means you know what to do with them.”      “And beautiful?”  Dimas looked skeptical.      “She’s very beautiful to me.”      “So she’s funny?”      DeSoto shook his head.  “She’s not funny.  She’s disciplined.  Look at the way she moves.”      Dimas looked over, but it was just a glance.  “Graceful, huh?”        “Graceful,” DeSoto repeated.  “You haven’t been paying attention.”  He gave a slight gesture in Fiori’s direction.  “She isn’t graceful  — when she moves, it’s efficient.  With purpose.  She moves like a nightmare.  That’s the way she thinks, too.  She’s calm and focused and it’s almost impossible to make her angry, and if you do, it’s like a laser.  In fact, everything she does is like a laser.  She’s uncannily perceptive - knows when you’re lying, like you’re made of glass.  And I’ve never known anyone deadlier.  If she wants you dead, you’re dead, and it’ll happen so fast you won’t ever know about it.  Is she funny, Mr. Bryansen?  She’s fucking terrifying.”      Dimas stared at him in disbelief.  “This is the woman you want as a wife?”      The vicar smiled.  “I’m an adventurous man.”

[whitherwanderer]

Some pics from the White Lotus’ Aetherwave Beach Bash!