#ffxiv wax melts

[lightwhilecandleco]

LightWhileCandleCo on Etsy 30off2 #FFXIV #FinalFantasyXIV #Wol #ffxivcommunity #FFXIVrp #FinalFantasy14 #ffxivfanart #FFXIVFanFest #ffxivcandles #ffxivwaxmelts #ffxivgift #ffxivart #limsalonimsa #radsathan #ilmheg #Marelamentorum #Elpis #Gridania #Kugane #FFXIVEndwalker

[tinytveit]

56 pieces of wood for 4k scrips. 56 pieces of wood to macro hq. 28 fishing rods for solution nine collectable appraiser. they're gonna have so many fishing rods because i keep failing this 17% meld. give me orange scrips, boy

[butane-muses]

VERSE TAGS.

For this blog's use, only. Please don't reblog this.(

[twelveswood-fragrances]

Hello!

I make candles and wax melts based on video games :)

If you’d like to check out what I have, here is my shop link!

https://twelveswoodfragrances.com/

I hope you have a wonderful day <3 

[sheepwithspecs]

His Path

|| FFXIV || Rated G ||

Ao3 Link

A quiet moment of connection between husband and wife.

Ameliance wakes to darkness.

Startled into awareness without fully understanding why, she opens her eyes to find the murky shadows of her bedchamber. Casting about for something familiar in the night, her wide-open gaze lands on the pale sliver of moonlight reflected in the large mirror hanging above the chest of drawers. It waxes and wanes with the billowing curtains, the ocean breeze a faint caress against her exposed collarbone. The chronometer at her bedside table counts the seconds, each measured tick-tock scolding her for waking before the sun had time to rise. Tsk-tsk-tsk— A mechanical whir, barely more than a whisper in the night, and the tiny hammer strikes third bell.

Behind her, the mattress dips as her husband makes his way beneath the coverlet. Holding her breath, she strains to hear the rustle of fabric as Fourchenault makes himself comfortable. He relaxes with a soft grunt, the sound melting into the night before all is silent once more. There is no need for a light; she can see her husband perfectly in her mind’s eye, hair unbound and starched uniform replaced with a nightshirt of finely woven silk. Supine, long fingers folded demurely across his stomach, frowning at the ceiling as he waits for sleep to claim him.

It is a position she has not been privy to for some time now.

When was the last time they shared a bed? Or, rather, the last time she had been made aware of his coming and going? She had grown accustomed to the lonely habit of going to bed alone and waking up much the same; often she had no choice but to rely on the rumpled bedsheets at her side to tell when—if at all—her husband joined her in the course of the night. Long enough to miss his presence, to feel nostalgic for those sleepy mornings when he would brush the loose hair from her forehead, bending over to feather kisses over her sleeping face. Sometimes he would even linger there, his lips pressed to the rise of her cheekbone, breathing in her scent as though hoping to carry something of her with him on the long walk to the Rostra.

Those days are long past, unfortunately. Ameliance cannot remember the last time he woke her simply to say goodbye, to play the age-old game of a wife entreating her husband to miss important work in lieu of a lazy morning at her side. Perhaps it stems from concern. Perhaps he does not wish to disturb her peaceful slumber. Perhaps his passion has cooled into indifference. 

Fourchenault loves her. It is an unequivocal truth, as simple and natural as two and two making four. The knowledge lies deep in her bones, in her very marrow. But knowledge without proof is its own torture.

He used to blush when she kissed him in public, stammering under his breath about propriety and impressions and such. And at the close of each long day he would nevertheless greet her warmly, leaning into her touch as she helped to remove his elaborate uniform. She misses their long walks in the forest, stolen moments as they watched the waves break over the Scholar’s stone feet in the distant harbor.

But now he no longer pauses at her side, no longer takes her hand in his own with all the awkward shyness of a schoolboy, despite over a decade of marriage. There is always a summons, something to pull him from his office or from the dining table, an apologetic smile on his face and an excuse on his lips. Forgive me. Next time I will stay longer. Next time I will rise earlier. Next time….

Too busy, always too busy, she had thought in those moments, her love for him a worrying thorn in her breast. Fourchenault never spoke of his work, beyond those few vague details which, in the nature of his duty, were necessary to impart. He couldnot speak of it, she now knew: sworn to secrecy, bound by magic. But even without the spell holding him to his word, Ameliance knew that he would have never divulged any of the Forum’s secrets. To do so would have been a significant breach of their trust, and that was simply not in his nature.

In his defense, there had been little time in recent years for pleasantries. His work preserving their lives for the future had instead stolen him away from life’s most precious moments; it had ostracized him from his family, brushing aside their well-meaning gestures in his hurry. Often she had pleaded with him to stay a moment longer, to take one more bite of his meal, to pause and catch his breath—each time, she was denied without a word of explanation.

At least he is finally able to rest.

Ameliance holds herself perfectly still, listening to the sounds of another body in her bed—strange, unaccustomed, after so many moons apart. All of Sharlayan has breathed a collective sigh of relief, including those charged with its salvation. Why, then, does he still not reach for her? Why does he continue to hold himself apart? Has he no more fondness for her? Or is it her own fault for not pressing harder? Demanding more? She has never been one to withhold herself from what she truly wants. Is he expecting her to reach for him? Or is he simply too tired to care, now that all is said and done?  

She turns the questions over in her mind, wondering if her doubts are founded enough to bring up at their next shared meal… whenever that will be. Before she can arrive at an answer, however, there is the soft brush of fingertips against her neck. They trace a tentative line down the center of her spine, muted by the thick fabric of her nightgown. He pauses only once, perhaps alerted to the shift in her attention, but makes no effort to speak. A quiet breath, something caught halfway between a sigh and an exhale, and he presses his palm into the valley between her shoulder blades. His fingers fan out slowly, one by one, measuring the span between the rises with a gentle touch.  

“Is that all you plan to do?” The whisper escapes before she can think to smother it, surprisingly loud in their shared darkness. Fourchenault flinches at the sound, the warmth of his hand absent as he pulls back into himself. Turning in place, she gropes along the blankets for him and finds naught but empty space. Has he already fled? Or was it merely a dream? No, not a dream… she can hear each stilted breath as it passes his lips.

“Have I woken you?” he finally asks, repentant. Remorseful. “I did not mean—”

“I was not fully asleep.” Ameliance shuffles closer to his side of the bed, attempting to bridge the chasm between them. She can sense how he draws away from her, muscles stiffening as though to brace himself… against what, she cannot say.

Well, that simply won’t do.

Boldly she reaches forward, find the edge of one tensed shoulder after a moment’s confusion. Her fingers dance their way up the slender column of his neck, reacquainting themselves with his jawline before cupping his cheek. He nuzzles into the proffered caress, lips brushing the heel of her palm. They move against her skin, sounding out the syllables of her name.  

“I’ve missed this.” The confession rests on the pillows between them. “I’ve missed you,” she adds, when he does not immediately respond. Something deep within her aches to hear the same words echoed back, the proof she seeks that life without her was miserable for him in some small way.

“Forgive me.” His standard apology falls flat in comparison. Disappointed, she lets her hand fall away… or tries to, at any rate. Fourchenault holds tight to her wrist, feeling up the shape of her hand and clutching it to his cheek with the desperation of a starved man. “Forgive me,” he repeats, more urgently.

“For what?”

“For… for everything.” His voice is strangled, overbrimming with emotion. It ill-suits him, the man who prides himself on being calm and collected no matter the situation. “Everything. Or nothing. Whatever pleases you most, so long as it makes things right again.”

“But—” There is nothing wrong. Even as she thinks the words, she knows them to be untrue. Things have not been right for some time now. But what could they have done differently? How much longer could they have forestalled the inevitable? Louisoix, the Forum, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn: each had their own solution, dreams born of desperation and hope. But no one plan was wholly infallible, without fault. Even the Mothercrystal had not known the full answer, forced to cling to the belief that one day Her children would rise to the occasion in Her stead.

“I have failed everyone,” he continues, unprompted. “Had the Scions not been able to fund—had you not thought to—had the children not—” He chokes, lips pressed tightly against the onslaught of his guilt and shame. “How many more would have perished? How many more would have fallen due to my own shortsightedness?” Questions with no easy answer.

“The lamp, dearest.”

“What?”

“If you want to talk about this right now, we might as well be able to see one another.” Still he hesitates, his uncertainty at war with her pragmatism. “I want to see you,” she urges, letting her voice go soft and sweet, the one thing guaranteed to wear him down in record time. “Please?” A fumbling click, the strike of a match, and the room is bathed in a warm, flickering glow.

Fourchenault falls back to the pillow, blinking the spots from his weary eyes before turning to where she waits. His expression is at once both guarded and reproachable, waiting for her censure, willing to accept anything she throws at him. Perhaps he expects himself worthy of nothing less. Now that she is able to properly see him, she feels her heart begin to melt.

Her husband is not without blame; that much is certain. But the blame should not—cannot—rest solely on his shoulders. If there is fault to be found, he must find it within himself. She has no desire to become a font of criticism; if anything, her only wish is to become its solace.

“Now, isn’t this better?” Ameliance aligns her body to his, sinking down to share his pillow with a warm smile. Wary eyes keep watch as she settles in beside him, hooking one ankle around his beneath the bedclothes. Ever so slowly he reaches for her, finding her hand atop the coverlet and covering it with his own. While not the verbal answer she wished for, it is still encouragement enough to continue.

“The Final Days are averted, our beloved children are returned to us hale and whole, and we both are none the worse for wear. It is the best outcome this family could have possibly wished for. Is that not so?” He offers no response. “One man alone cannot protect every living thing on the star,” she reminds him softly. “How can you be responsible for the universe and its plight, when the power to save it was never yours to wield?”

“Perhaps I could not have saved everyone. But I might have done more to try.” His fingers tighten to the point of pain. She does not flinch, eager to offer even this smallest of comforts. “Instead, I chose to cling to the hope that our forefathers knew us better than we knew ourselves. That ancient methods were somehow more viable than modern solutions. A textbook example of a sunken-cost fallacy.”

“Fourchenault—”

“I was not blind to what our children had accomplished thus far. Rather, I knowingly chose not to see it for what it was. Pride, my foolish pride….”

“Do you recall that last picnic we had in Labyrinthos? It was just before your father departed for Eorzea.” Turning onto her side, she rests her free hand on his sternum. “You made a promise that day. Do you remember what it was?”

“I remember.” His eyes soften with the recollection. “For our children… for their children.”

“Mine is a difficult path, but I shall walk it gladly,” she quotes, each word laden with meaning beyond his intentional oath. “It was a difficult path, wasn’t it? But you stuck to it anyway, for their sake. You walked it alone, with no assistance from those you fought to save. Tell me: who would blame a father for acting in his children’s best interests?”

“The best of intentions cannot excuse the poorest of executions.” A Studium proverb if there ever was. “Regardless of my aim, I hurt my family. My children. You did not see the expression on their little faces in the Lotus Stands, when I told them that they were not….” He raises his hands before his eyes, staring at them in the dim light. There is no doubt in her mind what he sees, superimposed upon his fingers: the memory of chubby, infantile hands clinging to him, so trusting in their innocence. “But they would be obstinate, unmoved—”

“Yes… I wonder where they could have possibly picked up that particular trait?” Eyes twinkling, she moves to kiss the corner of his downturned mouth. “Alphinaud and Alisaie love you, my darling… as do I. But if you feel as though you must make amends, let this be the first: allow me to be your wife in more than name. Let me bear my portion of your troubles, the way you bear mine. No more secrets.”

“F-Forgive me, I had no choice. It was my burden to—”

“Shh.” A shake of her head is more than enough to silence his stammered apology. “Even had you not been sworn to secrecy, I doubt you’d have bothered to bore your wife with trivial details about the end of the world.” He flushes, the tips of his ears darkening further under her scrutiny. “Everyone needs a shoulder to rest their head at the end of the day, Fourchenault. In your case, I’d rather that shoulder be mine.”

“Ameliance….” His frown wavers, eyes glistening.

“After all, haven’t I always kept pace with you?” she grins, brushing pale wisps of hair from his cheek. “I promise I’m up to the task.”

“You always were.” He sighs, relaxing fully and indulging in her loving ministrations. “In that case,” he murmurs, eyes drifting closed, “I’ll have no more secrets from you, either. No more under-the-table dealings with merchants—” She kisses him, partly to interrupt the incoming lecture but also from the sheer delight that her stern husband, her stoic, inscrutable husband is teasing her for the first time in ages. Eager arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his loose hair as she steals the breath from his lungs.

“No more unscrupulous, unmarked payments to the Scions,” he manages, when she breaks away for air. “No more adventurers traipsing in and out of our foyer, regardless of the time.” Trembling hands cup her cheeks, outlining her features with both thumbs. “And absolutely no more of those ridiculous outfits—”

“Ridiculous? I seem to recall your eyes being glued to a certain pair of sheer leggings… you didn’t like them? Perhaps they should be discarded?”

“You know I liked them,” he grumbles, winding an arm around her waist. “Just as you know I would have fallen on my knees before you, had the servants not—” The remainder of his words are swallowed by another searing kiss, deeper than the last. Warm hands slip beneath her gown, guiding her legs until she straddles his hips. As close as they already are she cannot help but want to be even closer, tugging fruitlessly at the unwanted barrier of his nightshirt.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles against the seam of her lips, tracing the smooth skin of her outer thigh. “You deserve so much more… you deserve the world….”

“Look at me.” His lashes flutter open, eyes stormy with lust. It is as unraveled as he will allow  himself to be, the ever-present crease between his brows smoothing only when she rests her forehead against his. “Our children are my sun and stars,” she whispers, staring deep into his eyes. If given half the chance, she would willingly drown herself in the love that pools there. “They are the light guiding my every step, make no mistake. But my world is here, with you.”

No fewer words can describe what she knows to be true. Their children soar far from home on open wings of their own making, their love for this star carrying them beyond what either of their parents could possibly have hoped to imagine. She basks in their distant glow, buoyed by pride and maternal love. But when the ground beneath her feet start to tremble, when the firmaments feel ready to crumble and collapse around her, Fourchenault is the solid weight she reaches for. He is her strength, and she is his: in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, through the end of the world or in its wake.   

“Ame—!” Without warning he pulls her into a crushing embrace, a ragged exhale smothered into the join of her shoulder and neck. Her lungs protest the constricting hold, but she had no desire whatsoever to pull away before he does. If only they could remain like this, locked together for eternity….

“You are my everything,” he echoes, clutching at her for dear life. “My world, my life, my… Ameliance….” His arms tighten even further, as if to draw her into his body by force. “Every day… not a day goes by that I am not thankful you chose me.”

“Who else would I possibly choose?” Swallowing thickly, he draws back just far enough to see her face. She winks, unable to help herself. “I knew from the start that only one man in all the world could ever put up with the likes of me.” The corner of his mouth lifts in an unbidden smile, eyes crinkling as he bends to the weight of her amusement.

“Another difficult path, perhaps… one I will gladly walk until my dying day.”

Author's Note: I've been working on this idea since 2022 and I've only now got it to a point where I'm happy releasing it. Ever thankful for "A Legacy of Hope" Side Story, since it helped me narrow down the ideas that have been floating around in my head for 2 years now.

Maybe one day I'll write about Ameliance in those 2B leggings....

[kaidawrite-a]

People I Want to Get To Know Better

Tagged by (drumroll please): @hares-and-hounds!

Last Song: Studio Killers - Valentine Their newest song! Definitely worth listening to.

Favorite Color: Bordeaux or mauve or lilac but the specific kind of lilac that borders periwinkle. Accented with navy or turquoise or seafoam. Idk folks colors are good.

Currently Watching: Half-Life Histories by Kyle Hill on YT. The Bear. IWTV.

Last Movie: The Cat Returns, most likely.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Depends on the mood really but I find myself leaning more savory-into-spicy for food and sweet for drinks.

Relationship Status: Single!

Current Obsessions: Always FFXIV and Kaida, Outlast Trials, candles/wax melts (specifically from Luminis Candle Co and Kuro Neko Melt Co, though I got a Kaida-themed custom candle from Planeshift for my birthday and it's also Very nice!), SCP, Dr Pepper Creme Soda (specifically the zero sugar tho the original's also good. I just like the zeros). Crystals/shiny rocks. D&D dice (see shiny rocks.) Trying to find this one ice cream flavor that in theory is in stock by me but I cannot find literally anywhere and it's limited edition. Not an obsession but also fascination with disasters (both man-made and accidental).

Last Thing I Googled: where to find ben and jerry's churn out the vote ice cream LOL

Welcome to another hour of "I talk a lot!"

Let's taaaag: @vergoosey @klopford @itsfrey @dragoon-mid-jump

[zenmai--jikake--no--komoriuta]

Lesser Deities; D'nyr Fellcrest

[ R U L E S ] Bold what applies. Italicize sometimes. Strikeout never. Tag some friends to play along! & repost, don’t reblog! ------------------------

[ E R O S ]: • scornful jealousy • pink • presents a certain decorum • heavy air in a nightclub • has a tattoo they regret • sex & love therapist for their friends • juvenescent • uses enchantments • aloof • wears rose-coloured glasses • velvet, latex, & lingerie • milk baths with champagne bubbles • impetuous in love • intense eye contact is a sport • kinky • soft lips • wears stacked rings • sets fashion trends • graceful movements • marble floors • heavy perfume or cologne • deeply emotional • born glamorous •

[ H E C A T E ]: • prefers canine companions • wears symbolic jewelry • can see spirits • melting wax • uses hexes • feels most comfortable at night • smell of cinnamon • moonlight • red wine • understands poisons & herbs • collects bones or feathers • partakes in rituals • black • fog at night • is aware of their shadow self • embraces the unknown • enjoys collecting secrets • approves of necromancy • meditates • has prophetic dreams • lace • knowing too many secrets • fishnet stockings •

[ PAN ]: • enjoys poetry & prose • wool • smell of decaying leaves in autumn • prefers to be barefoot • tends to overindulge • easily excitable • thriving in social circles • loves being around campfire • antlers • dirt paths • the sound of wind chimes • penchant for sticky fingers • pine trees • stamina for days • falls in lust • vagabond • physically stronger than given credit for • foxglove • welcomes luxury • non-confrontational • charming words • talking to animals • nature for jewelry •

[ NEMESIS ]: • angry • protective of their values • balance & harmony • looks like an angel but isn’t • more perceptive than people realize • snow capped mountains • grey • wears leather • silver jewelry • likes snakes • can’t stand ignorance • believes in retribution • analytical of own emotions • well read • marble columns • has very rigid morals • bruised knuckles • humorous under the sarcasm • clean workspace • everything in moderation • cold morning air • resting glare face • fluent in curse words •

[ HYPNOS ]: • very calm demeanor • easily overwhelmed • relaxing is their vice • transactional friendships • has a soft voice • head in the clouds • carries drugs with them • has a sibling they’re close with • drawn to winged animals • lavender • has plush furniture/blankets • starry eyed • horrible money management • gives amazing hugs • dreaming big as a full time job • wears comfy or loose clothes • existential questions • not good at memory based skills • fairy lights • can’t sleep somewhere unfamiliar • crystalline chandeliers • dislikes bright sun • fluttering eyelashes •

[ IRIS ]: • life’s a technicolor spectrum • has a lot to say • beaming smiles • always has candy with them • flirting by accident • walking to the beat of their own drum • gossamer curtains • has a surprising amount of connections • blushes very easily • confident laughter • uses a staff • fresh fruit slices • decorated handwritten letters • a social chameleon • blood made of honey • treating people with kindness • sentimental heart • vases full of wildflowers • feels fulfilled when helping others • has a healing aura • always traveling • stained glass windows • just trying to be a good person •

TAGGED BY: n/a, yoinked from @thedodolady! TAGGING: @arty-ffxiv

[soft-stims]

Mide Hotgo stimboard for anon

x x x - x x - x x x

[elfyourmother]

[Redacted]: *takes a petty swipe at Aymeric by mentioning Thordan*

Gisele:

[metalodica]

FFXIV job-themed wax melts are back! Here’s the HEALERS batch, up in my Etsy right now (Link in source). They are ASTROLOGIAN, SCHOLAR and WHITE MAGE, and they are SCENTED! Made of 100% soy wax.

[cloudofdarkness]

A couple art trades I did with some twitter mutuals!!

If you’d like to trade with me and get some personalized, character themed wax melts, you can reply to this and I’ll add you to the list! Mutuals only pls!

[craftramsay]

Your OC as the Solar System

bold what applies - italicize sometimes - strike out never. tag some friends to play along! & repost don’t reblog!

SUN • egotistical • melted wax wings and fingers • stretching sunburnt skin • the most generous soul • blood in the fruit • halos • anger on fire • high vitality • thunderous laughter • is pride really a sin? • halogenic aura

MERCURY • expansion of the mind • silver-tongued • an everlasting wanderer • polyglot • high dexterity • handwritten letters • innately critical • en vogue • eyes in the trees • hidden libraries • there’s always room for improvement

VENUS • in love with strangers • iridescent waters • love potions for your mirror • selfless devotion • shattering crystal • seafoam upon sand • the golden ratio • drowning in your own passion • material value & high principles • luring • plush lips

EARTH • fresh springs • tree hugger • we can start again tomorrow • a blazing rainforest • respects survival of the fittest • nature’s adversity • lazy bones • constantly evolving • flowers sprouting from wounds • a granite altar • fossilized remains

MOON • illusory • silver shimmer off the ocean • secrets and gossip • cycles of reincarnation • a crybaby • physically ethereal • shared glances with a stranger • cat eyes • mistrusting their intuition • fear is a prison • ornate magic wands

MARS • healthy competition • attraction and repulsion • magma and rubies • a blade being forged • wrath wrath wrath • malefic • intense eye contact • cannon fodder & fireworks • blood floods • copper taste on your tongue

JUPITER • red robes and a suit of armor • beacon of stability • leader by birth • thunderbolts and lightning • guilty but can’t stop • secret rich kid • golden touch golden tears • innate optimist • failure isn’t an option • constantly reaching for more • unfinished symphonies

SATURN • traditional • overbearing energy • a sculptor of reality • this existence is a karmic one • has a heart it’s just.. way down deep • law, order & justice • avoid all necessary risk • the sound of shackles clanging • sisyphus’ struggle • grappling with the reality of time • self-governing

URANUS • psychedelic funk music • overflowing cups • a rebellion with skin • looking good in photo id • oblivious but caring • middle fingers in the air • double rainbows • icy diamond exterior • holographic • afraid of their own mediocrity • pearlescent smoke

NEPTUNE • an elegy for the lost • dissolving boundaries • white horses • the burden of mystical conditions • deceptive • escapism is their reality • a polarizing entity • artists soul • paranoia • searching for the unseen • a siren’s swan song

PLUTO • angel statues over graves • power • the cycle of necrosis • transformative • unfathomable depths • an ivory tower toppling over • screaming at the sky • violets and irises • eclipsed darkness • speaks with their shadow • sex, death, rebirth

Tagged by: @lettersnorth -- I'm getting there!

Tagging: @nozomijoestar @dragons-bones @desertdragon @windup-reina @allyennah @aberdi-ffxiv

[zhauric]

Lesser Greek Deities: Asande Stormborn

[ S C O R I N G N O T E S ] I gave bold 1.0 points, italics 0.5 points, and strikeouts 0.0 points.

[ E R O S ]:  • scornful jealousy • pink • presents a certain decorum • heavy air in a nightclub • has a tattoo they regret • sex & love therapist for their friends • juvenescent • uses enchantments • aloof • wears rose-coloured glasses • velvet, latex, & lingerie • milk baths with champagne bubbles • impetuous in love • intense eye contact is a sport • kinky • soft lips • wears stacked rings • sets fashion trends • graceful movements • marble floors • heavy perfume or cologne • deeply emotional • born glamorous • [T O T A L : 7.5]

[ H E C A T E ]:  • prefers canine companions • wears symbolic jewelry • can see spirits • melting wax • uses hexes • feels most comfortable at night • smell of cinnamon • moonlight • red wine • understands poisons & herbs • collects bones or feathers • partakes in rituals • black • fog at night • is aware of their shadow self • embraces the unknown • enjoys collecting secrets • approves of necromancy • meditates • has prophetic dreams • lace • knowing too many secrets • fishnet stockings  • [T O T A L : 12.0]

[ PAN ]:  • enjoys poetry & prose • wool • smell of decaying leaves in autumn • prefers to be barefoot  • tends to overindulge  • easily excitable • thriving in social circles • loves being around campfire  • antlers • dirt paths • the sound of wind chimes • penchant for sticky fingers • pine trees • stamina for days • falls in lust • vagabond • physically stronger than given credit for • foxglove • welcomes luxury • non-confrontational • charming words • talking to animals • nature for jewelry • [T O T A L : 14]

[ NEMESIS ]:  • angry • protective of their values • balance & harmony • looks like an angel but isn’t • more perceptive than people realize • snow capped mountains • grey • wears leather • silver jewelry • likes snakes • can’t stand ignorance • believes in retribution • analytical of own emotions • well read • marble columns • has very rigid morals • bruised knuckles • humorous under the sarcasm • clean workspace • everything in moderation • cold morning air • resting glare face • fluent in curse words  • [T O T A L : 12.5 ]

[ HYPNOS ]:  • very calm demeanor • easily overwhelmed • relaxing is their vice • transactional friendships • has a soft voice • head in the clouds • carries drugs with them • has a sibling they’re close with • drawn to winged animals • lavender • has plush furniture/blankets  • starry eyed • horrible money management  • gives amazing hugs • dreaming big as a full time job • wears comfy or loose clothes • existential questions • not good at memory based skills • fairy lights • can’t sleep somewhere unfamiliar • crystalline chandeliers • dislikes bright sun • fluttering eyelashes  • [T O T A L : 8.5]

[ IRIS ]:  • life’s a technicolor spectrum • has a lot to say • beaming smiles • always has candy with them • flirting by accident • walking to the beat of their own drum • gossamer curtains • has a surprising amount of connections • blushes very easily • confident laughter • uses a staff • fresh fruit slices • decorated handwritten letters • a social chameleon • blood made of honey • treating people with kindness • sentimental heart  • vases full of wildflowers • feels fulfilled when helping others • has a healing aura • always traveling • stained glass windows • just trying to be a good person  • [T O T A L : 11.5]

Tagged by: @luck-and-larceny @the-wanted-man My thanks again.

Tagging: @femininemonk @mteshi-ffxiv @azure-seadragon @phoebe-of-ivalice @fair-fae  @jenessa-mercier​ @ivyffxiv​

[seascrapes]

[ Lesser Deities: Tal Brook ]

[R U L E S ] Bold what applies. Italicize sometimes. Strikeout never.

[ E R O S ]:  • scornful jealousy • pink • presents a certain decorum • heavy air in a nightclub • has a tattoo they regret • sex & love • therapist for their friends • juvenescent • uses enchantments • aloof • wears rose-coloured glasses • velvet, latex, & lingerie • milk baths with champagne bubbles • impetuous in love • intense eye contact is a sport • kinky • soft lips • wears stacked rings • sets fashion trends • graceful movements • marble floors • heavy perfume or cologne • deeply emotional • born glamorous •

[ H E C A T E ]:  • prefers canine companions • wears symbolic jewellery • can see spirits • melting wax • uses hexes • feels most comfortable at night • smell of cinnamon • moonlight • red wine • understands poisons & herbs • collects bones or feathers • partakes in rituals • black • fog at night • is aware of their shadow self • embraces the unknown • enjoys collecting secrets • approves of necromancy • meditates • has prophetic dreams • lace • knowing too many secrets • fishnet stockings •

[ P A N ]:  • enjoys poetry & prose • wool • smell of decaying leaves in autumn • prefers to be barefoot  • tends to overindulge  • easily excitable • thriving in social circles • loves being around campfire  • antlers • dirt paths • the sound of wind chimes • penchant for sticky fingers • pine trees • stamina for days • falls in lust • vagabond • physically stronger than given credit for • foxglove • welcomes luxury • non-confrontational • charming words • talking to animals • nature for jewellery •

[ N E M E S I S ]:  • angry • protective of their values • balance & harmony • looks like an angel but isn’t • more perceptive than people realize • snow capped mountains • grey • wears leather • silver jewellery • likes snakes • can’t stand ignorance • believes in retribution • analytical of own emotions • well read • marble columns • has very rigid morals • bruised knuckles • humorous under the sarcasm • clean workspace • everything in moderation • cold morning air • resting glare face • fluent in curse words •

[ H Y P N O S ]:  • very calm demeanour • easily overwhelmed • relaxing is their vice • transactional friendships • has a soft voice • head in the clouds • carries drugs with them • has a sibling they’re close with • drawn to winged animals • lavender • has plush furniture/blankets • starry eyed • horrible money management • gives amazing hugs • dreaming big as a full time job • wears comfy or loose clothes • existential questions • not good at memory based skills • fairy lights • can’t sleep somewhere unfamiliar • crystalline chandeliers • dislikes bright sun • fluttering eyelashes •

[ I R I S ]:  • life’s a technicolour spectrum • has a lot to say • beaming smiles • always has candy with them • flirting by accident • walking to the beat of their own drum • gossamer curtains • has a surprising amount of connections • blushes very easily • confident laughter • uses a staff • fresh fruit slices • decorated handwritten letters • a social chameleon • blood made of honey • treating people with kindness • sentimental heart • vases full of wildflowers • feels fulfilled when helping others • has a healing aura • always travelling • stained glass windows • just trying to be a good person •

Tagged by: @kich-rp

Tagging: @captainkurosolaire | @shydancingwanderer | @finnigan-seahart​ | @kailani-ffxiv​ | @houserosaire​ | @ishgardianskypirate​ | @kukurubean​ | @voidwife​ | @flamesworn​ | @afreesworn​ | @anchor-management | @jaliqai-and-company | @shaelstormchild | Anyone else who wishes <3

[starforger-backup]

lesser greek deity: maha

[R U L E S ] Bold what applies. Italicize sometimes. Strikeout never. Tag some friends to play along! && repost, don’t reblog!

[ E R O S ]:  • scornful jealousy • pink • presents a certain decorum  • heavy air in a nightclub • has a tattoo they regret • sex & love  therapist for their friends • juvenescent • uses enchantments • aloof •  wears rose-coloured glasses • velvet, latex, & lingerie • milk baths  with champagne bubbles • impetuous in love • intense eye contact is a  sport • kinky • soft lips • wears stacked rings • sets fashion trends • graceful movements • marble floors • heavy perfume or cologne • deeply emotional • born glamorous •

[  H E C A T E ]:  • prefers canine companions • wears symbolic jewelry •  can see spirits • melting wax • uses hexes • feels most comfortable at  night • smell of cinnamon • moonlight • red wine • understands poisons & herbs • collects bones or feathers • partakes in rituals • black • fog at night • is aware of their shadow self • embraces the unknown • enjoys collecting secrets • approves of necromancy • meditates • has prophetic dreams • lace • knowing too many secrets • fishnet stockings  •

[ PAN ]:  • enjoys poetry & prose • wool • smell of decaying leaves in autumn • prefers to be barefoot  • tends to overindulge  • easily excitable • thriving in social circles • loves being around campfire  • antlers • dirt paths • the sound of wind chimes  • penchant for sticky fingers • pine trees • stamina for days • falls  in lust • vagabond • physically stronger than given credit for •  foxglove • welcomes luxury • non-confrontational • charming words • talking to animals • nature for jewelry •

[ NEMESIS ]:  • angry • protective of their values • balance & harmony • looks like an angel but isn’t • more perceptive than people realize • snow capped mountains • grey • wears leather • silver jewelry • likes snakes • can’t stand ignorance • believes in retribution • analytical of own emotions • well read • marble columns • has very rigid morals • bruised knuckles • humorous under the sarcasm • clean workspace • everything in moderation • cold morning air • resting glare face • fluent in curse words  •

[ HYPNOS ]:  • very calm demeanor • easily overwhelmed • relaxing is their vice • transactional friendships • has a soft voice • head in the clouds • carries drugs with them • has a sibling they’re close with • drawn to winged animals • lavender • has plush furniture/blankets  • starry eyed • horrible money management  • gives amazing hugs • dreaming big as a full time job • wears comfy or loose clothes • existential questions • not good at memory based skills • fairy lights • can’t sleep somewhere unfamiliar • crystalline chandeliers • dislikes bright sun • fluttering eyelashes  •

[ IRIS ]:  • life’s a technicolor spectrum • has a lot to say  • beaming smiles • always has candy with them • flirting by accident •  walking to the beat of their own drum • gossamer curtains • has a surprising amount of connections • blushes very easily • confident laughter • uses a staff • fresh fruit slices • decorated handwritten letters • a social chameleon • blood made of honey • treating people with kindness • sentimental heart  • vases full of wildflowers • feels fulfilled when helping others • has a healing aura • always traveling • stained glass windows • just trying to be a good person  •

Tagged by @under-the-blood-moonlight​

Tagging @ricard-blythe-ffxiv​ @theimperialnuisance​ @ahlis-xiv​ @flamesworn​ @wood-warder​ @hakai-zonapher​ @zhauric​ @bek-sc​ @miqojak​ @spellsandtales​

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV: Quantum Shenanigans

Or, Baby ‘Buncles Break Physics (and Mom)

A/N: IT’S DONE AND JUST IN TIME.

Rating: T Word Count: 4009 Warnings: Mild spoilers for 5.1 MSQ and the Chronicles of the New Era side story Sorrow of Werlyt Cross-posted to AO3

--

“This is an abomination,” Nero snarled, flipping from what little Synnove and Krile had managed to put together of the Arch Ultima to the ones on the ravaged Ruby Weapon on a tablet. He was sitting at a heavy iron table in one of the Ironworks’s myriad workshops, fidgeting back and forth in one of the wheeled chairs Biggs had welded together on a whim one day, the chair swaying half an ilm side to side. “Absolutely repulsive. Of course the VIIth is involved somehow, that legion has always been full of lunatics.”

He was already ducking out of the way of Synnove’s hand, making to smack him upside the head for the pun, but it left him open to Cid’s hard flick against his temple. Nero yelped at the sting and pointed accusatorily at the other Garlean, yelling, “Hypocrite!”

Dancing Heron, knitting a shawl in the corner of the lab, pointedly cleared her throat.

The trio of scientists glanced over at her and then back at the tablet, subsiding into mostly-good behavior—for the time being.

Nero poked at one of the diagrams on the screen with a ferocious scowl, pinching his fingers together and then flicking them wide to expand the tiny line of code to magnification by five. He held up the tablet, nose practically against the screen as he stared at the close up of part of the recovered code from the Ruby Weapon, his eyes squinting half closed and tracking back and forth as he processed it. “Ah,” he finally said after long moments, “there it is.”

Both Synnove and Cid leaned closer—Synnove over Nero’s left shoulder, Cid over the right—and Nero pulled his head back to give them room, pointing at a small section on the screen with his pinkie finger.

“With most the Weapon melted slag and what remains of the code a scrambled nightmare, it’s hard to tell precisely what swiving nonsense they’ve wrought with my schematics of the original Ultima Weapon, but that isn’t anything either the Allagans had or what I added,” said the former tribune, voice grim.

Cid drummed his fingers on the worktable as he stared at the glowing code. “That looks eerily similar to what we managed to recover of Aulus mal Asina’s unique brand of horror,” he said. “Reversed, of course, since it certainly doesn’t seem like the Ruby Weapon’s oversoul system was ever intended for the pilot to survive.”

“Well, in order to implant the memory of an individual, one has to extract it from somewhere,” drawled Synnove. “But it’s similar to the Ultima Weapon’s coding for absorbing primals, as well. So: did the VIIth manage to get their hands on mal Asina’s research; did they reverse engineer Nero’s notes; or did they come up with it independently? None of these options are particularly comforting.”

(Over in the corner, next to Heron, Tyr suddenly jerked awake from his doze, a small *hic!* escaping him at the same time as his eyes crossed. Heron paused in her knitting and peered down at him, raising her eyebrows.)

“Either way, the results are revolting,” Nero said with palpable disgust. “Forcibly downloading and uploading souls at a whim, who would condone such a thing?”

“You would!” Cid and Synnove snapped in unison.

“The Praetorium,” Synnove said, jabbing Nero in the kidney with her finger. He yelped and jammed his elbow into her stomach, or tried to, as Synnove was already dancing out of range as she continued: “I distinctly recall you waxing poetic about adding mine and my sisters’ power to the Ultima Weapon!”

(Tyr reared up from his loaf shape to sit on his hindlegs; Heron, leaning over him, jerked back in surprise. The topaz carbuncle stared down at his stomach and carefully poked it with one paw.

Poke. Poke poke poke. Pooooooooke.

A deeply perturbed little nya? escaped him as he did.)

Nero paused and set down the tablet, then pressed his forefinger against his lips as he searched his memory. “…So I did,” he said at last, grudgingly. “Not my finest moment, descending into full on megalomaniacal mad scientist stereotype.”

“That implies you ever rose from the state in the first place,” Cid muttered. And then wheezed out a curse while doubling over and clutching at his stomach; Nero had taken advantage of Cid’s momentary distraction to ram his bony elbow into the other Garlean’s abdomen.

A ball of shimmering copper wool-and-silk yarn bounced off the side of Nero’s head. Synnove cackled and plucked the ball out of the air, and, without looking, threw it back to Heron. Nero, meanwhile, grumbled wordlessly, but tucked his elbows in and folded his arms across his chest.

(As Heron dropped the yarn back into her bag of sundries, Tyr slowly lowered his front paws to the floor to properly sit, blinking slowly as he did. He looked up at Heron and let out a quiet, very bewildered maow.)

“I am ruthless, not cruel,” Nero growled. “The Ultima Weapon absorbs entities in whole, yes, and I cannot say what happens to those entities while they are held within Ultima. But this?” He gestured to the tablet. “This is—this is using people as little more than batteries, in the most disgusting, agonizing way possible, likely for no other reason that I can discern except that it was likely the easiest way to—to do whatever the sodding hells it is the Legion wants to do. For all the shite I give the pair of you about your standard of ethics, I do have standards, and this is still a gross perversion of science and an unconscionable lack of morality.”

Silence settled on the workshop. Synnove, Cid, and Heron all just looked at Nero with various shades of bemusement.

Nero shifted uneasily, flicking his gaze from Cid, to Synnove, to Heron, and back to Cid to repeat the cycle. Finally. “…What?”

“I’m impressed, Nero,” Cid said. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and he leaned back against the workbench to look at Nero with shrewd blue eyes. “You’ve actually matured. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Bathe in ceruleum, Garlond.”

“Choke on a lug wrench, Scaeva.”

HI MOMMY!

Synnove shrieked and jumped a fulm in the air, clutching her chest. Nero shoved his chair back to get away from the flailing Highlander, so quickly he rolled over his own toes, and he made a garbled, choked off sound of wordless agony. Cid didn’t have time to get out of the way himself and ended up taking the backrest of the chair into his already abused stomach, knocking the wind from him with another wheeze. Heron did not drop her needles, despite also jumping, but only because a lifetime of friendship with Rereha had trained her otherwise. Tyr jumped to all four feet with a thud!, fur bristling as his gaze darted around the room for a possible threat.

All five gazes swung around to one of the other iron tables in the workshop, the one upon which Synnove had unceremoniously dropped her gear when she and Heron and Tyr had arrived.

Poking out of Synnove’s ubiquitous hip pouch, the flap still buckled shut so that their faintly iridescent heads were forced to stick out from opposite sides, ears twitching in delight and dark eyes huge with glee and utterly heedless of the minor chaos they had wrecked upon the workshop, were Amandina and Roksana.

“What in the—girls, where did you even come from?!” Synnove said, scurrying over to them. She undid the buckle and, now with room to move, the twins tumbled out of the bag with high-pitched giggles.

Hi Mommy hi Mommy hi Mommy hi Mommy hi Mommy, they chanted continuously, leaping into her arms and snuggling close, their six tails between wriggling frantically.

“Synnove,” Cid said, still breathless as he forced himself to stand upright with a wince, “I know you can be more than a little single-minded when you’re on a tear, but surely even you should have noticed two baby carbuncles that have stuffed themselves into one of your pouches.

“This is the one with the void storage metafold,” Synnove hissed, turning around. She was supporting the twins’ chests with her hands and the rest of their bodies along her forearms; Amandina was in her right hand, Roksana in the left. Amandina gently headbutted Synnove’s chin, while Roksana looked around the workshop excitedly.

Cid’s face went blank in the manner that usually preceded him asking a question he would wish he had not in fact asked at all once he had the answer: “…Void storage metafold?”

“Yes,” Synnove said primly, bouncing the twins in her arms. They giggled. “It’s based on the one Khebi built for Carby, though the structure’s internal area is only about three square fulms instead of…whatever nightmare area Carby’s is. All you have to do to make one is calculate the Cartesian coordinates in four dimensions rather than three, then fold the aether along the proper axes and—”

Cid’s eyes were becoming suspiciously glassy.

“—Nero, kick him.”

Nero, using his non-injured foot, immediately did so in Cid’s shin while wearing a gleefully malicious grin. Cid shouted.

“Such an example to set,” Heron said, deadpan.

“Girls?”

The carbunclets chittered together, When Mommy is being petty, we should use it as an example of poor behavior and not emulate it!

“Good girls!”

Amandina and Roksana cheered.

(Wish Mama would take her own advice, Tyr grumbled. Heron made a sympathetic noise and patted him on the head.)

“What the hells was that even for?” Cid said, leaning back up against the work table to pick up his leg and rub his injured shin.

“Your eyes glazed over as I went on a brief aetherology tangent!” Synnove bellowed. (The twins made oooooooo Uncle Cid’s in trouble~ noises.) “I will not have it! You might be an engineering protoyping savant, but your aetherology theory is shite! You have lived in Eorzea for fifteen bloody years, learn some!”

“Your grand idea for overcoming the first line of aetheric defenses of the Crystal Tower was to throw a bloody rock at it.”

“It has been four years, are you ever going to stop harping about that?”

“No!” Nero and Synnove snapped in unison.

“Tangent!” Heron bellowed.

Nero and Synnove grumbled but settled. Cid began the motion of a particularly rude gesture, stopped, and looked at the twins. The twins blinked at him curiously. Cid dropped his hand and crossed his arms with a scowl.

“In any event,” Synnove said, “I left the twins with Khebi and Rere to babysit—stop looking at me like that, you two, Halulu was supervising—and teleported to Revenant’s Toll directly from my office.”

Now she twisted her wrists to turn the carbunclets around to face herself, and Synnove’s expression morphed into exasperated affection as the babies beamed at her. “I waved to you!” she said to them. “You waved back! How did you two get here?!”

We missed you, Mommy! said Amandina.

So, we decided to come find you! said Roksana.

And we tunneled! the black pearl carbuncle peeped excitedly, puffing out her chest in pride.

Yeah! the white pearl carbuncle said, mirroring her sister.

Synnove’s expression melted into faint confusion. The workshop was quiet for a few moments as they all stared at the twins in various degrees of bafflement.

“…Tunneled?” said Synnove, at last.

Yeah! From Elder Cousin!

To your hip pouch!

Synnove’s face blanked. Nero went white, jaw sagging open. Cid’s eyes widened to practically the size of teacup saucers.

Heron and Tyr exchanged bewildered looks.

“Before I say anything else,” said Nero, voice faint as he turned to look at Heron, “is ‘Elder Cousin’ who I think it is?”

“If you mean A’khebica’s Carby,” Heron said slowly, “then yes.”

“Shite,” Nero hissed.

(The twins gasped and covered their mouths with their paws. Bad word!)

“Carby’s a good boy,” Synnove said automatically, the tone of someone who had made the argument before and likely would again. “He’s strange, but he’s a good boy.”

Cid looked at her incredulously. “Just last week you were screaming about having to rummage in his void storage again for your aether chalk and how he was gnawing on your shoulder in retaliation!”

“Carby is not a good boy, Carby is halfway between a constructor-kit outer entity and an unshackled artificial intelligence.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is!” Cid and Nero snapped in unison.

“At least Carby understands ethics,” Heron muttered under her breath. Tyr snickered next to her. Then, louder, Heron said: “Tangent.”

“Fine,” Synnove hissed. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose slowly; she held the breath for a few heartbeats, then let it out for the same count. When she opened her eyes, she immediately focused on the girls blinking up at her. “You tunneled. From Carby’s void storage metafold to the one in my hip pouch.”

Yes! the girls said.

We got a bit mixed up at first, though, Roksana said, ears drooping.

Yeah, said Amandina. We almost ended up in Tyr instead.

Tyr boofed, flabbergasted, his ears pricked completely upright in shock. That was YOU?

Synnove twitched.

Often as they had traveled through Azys Lla, the quartet of Warriors of Light had come across Allagan nodes glitching, five thousand years of constant functionality having degraded their circuits and systems. One type of cascading error turned the nodes’ vocalizations into a mess of garbled static, the pitch changing mid-word from high and piercing to low and growling, or vice versa. Listening to them had frequently led to the group gritting their teeth as the sounds dug into their minds and scratched like broken orchestrions.

Heron, Nero, Cid, Tyr, and the twins watched the visual equivalent of that noise happen on Synnove’s face. And in the case of Nero and Cid, it was occurring on their own faces, too.

“How?” Synnove said eventually, voice tight with tension.

Amandina and Roksana looked at one another. Amandina flicked an ear, the movement briefly iridizing the black fur on the appendage into deep purple. Roksana shrugged her shoulders, her own white fur momentarily shifting blue and then back. They looked back up at their mama.

We…pushed?

“Pushed.”

Well, first we accessed Elder Cousin’s metafold! Amandina said.

(Nero made a strangled noise of utter horror. Cid slowly slid down the side of the worktable to sit on the floor, knees bent and staring into the middle distance.)

Then we had to orient ourselves, said Roksana. That took a little bit. Elder Cousin’s metafold is very big!

We found Auntie Rere, too, Amandina whispered conspiratorially. We were playing hide and seek earlier. Elder Cousin said he had helped her.

Synnove closed her eyes and bit down on her lip, a snorting snicker briefly escaping her before she regained her self-control. Heron didn’t even bother to maintain the illusion of dignity, merely threw back her head and laughed from deep in her belly; Tyr, meanwhile, simply laid down on the floor and sighed heavily, covering his head with his paws. Nero made another horrified noise. Cid just wheezed.

Elder Cousin helped us, too! He told us about [subspatial aetheric sympathy tension paths].

Synnove froze. Her golden bronze skin had developed a worrying grey cast to it. “Say that again,” she breathed.

Roksana blinked. What? [Subspatial aetheric sympathy tension paths]?

The method by which all of Synnove’s carbuncles communicated with the people they and their mama generally liked wasn’t actual speaking, not with vocal cords and aspirated sounds to form words. Instead, they matched their aetheric harmonics with those of the individuals around them, with the end result being that the combination of the sounds they made, the body language they used, and the intent they held were “translated” into something the Spoken mind translated as “speech.” Most people initially found it odd, but quickly adapted.

This, however, wasn’t that.

Whatever Roksana had tried to tell her mama had…blanked. The concept was too big, too alien, too what the absolute swiving fuck for a meat brain in three dimensions to comprehend without shutting down as a defensive tactic to preserve sanity. But the little carbunclet still spoke, and whatever it was she had said had been further translated into a strange and obvious two-toned overlay of something that wasn’t quite right, but close enough.

Very slowly, Synnove turned her head to look at Nero, practically frothing at the mouth and his hands curled into claws as he grasped at air, and Cid, now aggressively cuddling a wrench he had gotten from one of his pockets like it was a comfort object. Deliberately, with precise enunciation, the arcanist said, “Please tell me I am not the only one who is hearing that harmonic as an approximation and not whatever it is my child is actually saying.”

“I know what those words mean individually,” Cid said. His grip on his wrench was white-knuckled. “I may even know what those words mean together. I am not ready to accept that. And I am most assuredly not ready to know whatever it is they are actually attempting to convey.”

“Blargle,” Nero agreed.

Synnove looked back at the twins. “Continue,” she said. The corner of her left eye kept spasming.

Sooooooo, Amandina began, once we knew where to go and how to sense the other metafolds based on Elder Cousin’s metafold—

“They sensed it?!” Nero yelled, outrage finally returning his ability to use vocabulary. He pushed himself upright and staggered over to Synnove and the twins, raking his hands through his hair. “How in the hells are they able to sense similarly constructed aetheric metafolds when each one is a distinct pocket dimension?!” He suddenly leaned down so he was nose to nose with the twins, frowning severely and blue eyes glimmering with suspicion. In a quieter, but no less manic tone of voice: “How in the hells are you able to sense similarly constructed aetheric metafolds when each one is a distinct pocket dimension?”

Dunno, Uncle Nero, Amandina chirped, wiggling her ears, her fur iridizing back and forth between black and purple once more.

Just can! said Roksana. She reached out and very carefully booped his nose.

Nero’s eyes crossed, staring at the white pearl carbunclet’s paw. He drew back with a huff—but booped her nose in turn, and then Amandina’s. The twins peeped happily.

“And then you pushed,” Cid said from his place on the floor.

Yeah!

It was easy!

It tickled!

And then we were here!

Synnove gazed sightlessly at the far wall, green eyes huge and unblinking. She untwisted her wrists and tucked the girls up against her chest, where they snuggled close. “My babies had a conversation about aetherospatial metaphysics with Carby,” she said in disbelief. “While they were inside his metafold.”

“Before they broke the laws of everything we know about physics and aetherophysics and quantum mechanics and traveled through space-time because they missed you,” Cid helpfully added.

“Congratulations,” Nero said icily. “You have mothered two more constructor-kit outer entities. If the fabric of reality unravels any time soon, I am blaming you.”

Yaaaaaaaaaaay! the twins cheered. The air popped and a bright light flashed between them, and suddenly aetheric confetti in a rainbow of pearlescent hues floated through the air, the pieces dissipating as they landed.

Synnove dropped her gaze to her youngest carbuncles, amused exasperation briefly flitting across her features once more. Nero and Cid also looked at the carbunclets, though without the amusement on their parts. Then the three scientists looked at one another.

And, finally, the hysterical yelling commenced.

--

Heron let them go at it for a while, finishing up her shawl and casting on a new one with the pretty copper wool-and-silk she had earlier thrown at Nero. After nearly a full bell of non-stop shouting, Biggs and Wedge arrived to investigate, and were dragged into the hysteria once they parsed through the trio talking over one another.

She did not even pretend to understand anything. There was quite a bit about aetherophysics and aetherology that she had picked up simply from knowing Synnove for so many years, but this was far beyond her ken. A few phrases stood out of the verbal melee (“quantum tunneling,” “Keltgeim’s absolutely ludicrous fringe theory about particles,” “aetheric entanglement”), but otherwise it was all Allagan to her.

At the two bell mark, however, with no sign of any of them slowing down, the Hellsguard decided it was time to call in reinforcements.

“Go get Jessie, please,” Heron quietly said to Tyr, “and tell her to bring the hose.”

Tyr boofed, amused. Yes, Aunt Heron! He stood and trotted for the workshop door, disappearing around it with a flick of his tails. The twins waved after him.

Heron eyed the group of frantically yelling nerds and reached up to her linkpearl cuff. She tapped a specific ‘pearl and leaned back in her chair as she waited for the other end to pick up.

A soft click echoed in her ear, and a familiar warm tenor came over the line. “Good afternoon, Heron,” said Aymeric. “What trouble has Synnove gotten into now?”

She probably should start calling her baby sister’s beau for reasons other than ‘come pick her up,’ but today was not that day. “She’s involved in a five-way discussion here at the Ironworks about theoretical physics that may not in fact be as theoretical as previously thought,” she said. “Please come pick her up.”

“Quite a lively discussion, then, as I can hear it,” the Lord Commander said drily. “On a scale of, created a more efficient theorem, to, about to write an “in response to” article rebutting a Thavnairian mathematician, just how manic is she?”

Heron hummed thoughtfully and turned to look over at the yelling scientists. Synnove was alternating with keeping Amandina and Roksana tucked close to her chest and gesticulating wildly with her hands with the twins still in her grasp, the babies going wheeeeeeee! every time with the later. Nero was pulling at his hair and so wild-eyed that she was becoming mildly concerned his eyes would actually pop from his head; her Echo was softly pinging in the way that meant Nero had lost his grasp on Eorzean Common somewhere in his tirade and had slid back into Garlean. Cid had his face in his hands, only raising his head to shout something in incomprehensible technobabble before dropping it back into his palms. Biggs and Wedge weren’t even coherent, with Wedge’s hands flailing so hard they were blurring.

But they all, each and every one but very especially Synnove, had a spark in their eyes that she well knew was going to mean trouble for someone in the near future. Hopefully just Jessie and Thubyrgeim.

“Once she’s calmed down?” Heron said into the linkpearl. “She’ll be at, rewriting the laws of reality.”

Something clattered on the other end of the line—a teacup, more than likely—and Aymeric swore softly, then sighed heavily. “Give me half a bell and I’ll be there to take her home.”

“Thank you,” said Heron cheerfully. “See you soon! Oh, and bring a towel.”

“Ah, hells. At least you warned me this time.” The ‘pearl line closed with a click.

And that was when Jessie entered the workshop, a firehouse braced at her hip. She waved to Heron, and the Hellsguard grabbed her knitting sundries bag and loped for the door.

The twins looked over, pricking their ears, then exchanged a glance. They nodded, and proceeded to wiggle free of Synnove, who was so deep in argument that she didn’t notice her hands emptying. Amandina landed lightly on her feet, but Roksana hit the floor with a soft plop! Her sister grabbed her scruff in her teeth and helped yank Roksana upright, and then the pair were scrambling for the safety of Heron, who scooped them up outside the shop door and dropped the carbunclets into her yarn bag.

With no collateral to worry about, Jessie turned on the hose.