#agent-nightingale-xiv

[knightingale-xiv]

"Your next assignment awaits, Agent."

[veliona-xiv]

∯

“I think you’re rude, and I think you’re uncaring. I find you to be disappointing on all fronts and while there are some good moments where I can find comfort in your presence nine times out of ten I’d much rather be with literally anyone else, doing quite literally anything. Half of the time your presence actually enrages me and honestly if you went away I wouldn’t be all that upset. Of course, I know that will never happen and that’s wishful thinking about I digress. I’ll adapt.”  For every ∯ I get I will say/confess something without specifying for whom it is meant

[enambris]

I lost track of who I sent this to, so just in case here's one more 💐🌷🌹🌺 send this to ten other bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going!!! 🌺🌹🌷💐💕

;-; Aww, thank you!

[its-morphin-time-xiv]

Happy happy birthday!

aAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH THANK YOU VERY MUCH BUDDY

I have aged exactly one(1) more year today.

[benes-diction]

💘

💘 What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it?

Technically for Celia, all the ways she says ‘I love you’ involve her not actually saying it, but kidding aside, most of her affectionate tells are nonverbal.

The most obvious way is proximity--Celia stands closer to people whose company she enjoys. She bombards her loved ones (and even acquaintances) with snacks and sweets, regardless of whether or not she knows they’ve eaten, simply because they make her happy and she wants to share that with them. She goes out of her way to try and remember key details they’ve told her about themselves, and listens intently when they need to rant and rave about something that’s upset them. And when she’s able to, she checks up on how they’re doing--looking for new scars, new wounds, or a favoring of certain limbs over others, just to see if she can help them feel a little better.

But on the more romantic side... hand-holding. It may not seem like much, but for her, it’s a Big Thing. Celia hates having strangers touch or grab her hands, as she hates the feeling of being silenced. But with the people she trusts and loves, she allows it--and in the case of her beloved tol, even encourages it.

[thegildenheart]

My Turn! (They may have never met, but it could be fun!)

Alley Rat and Arthur D'ehcan have joined your party!

• Starting Dungeon: “Ooh, that’s a real fancy weapon you got there mister! What’s it called? Caliburn? That’s neat!”• Assisting: “I got you covered, mister! We gotta watch each other’s backs, right?”• Being Assisted (Aurora): “D-did you just shoot me? W-why are my wounds closing? ...do you have healing bullets!? Golly!”• Idle Dialogue:  “How does your gunblade swap elements, anyway? Is it a button, like, on the hilt? It’s really neat. I’ve never seen something like that before!”• Witnessing Arthur KO: “Eek! Oh no! You’ve gotta get up, mister, the monsters look angry!”• Reviving Arthur: “E-even heroes falter sometimes, don’t worry! You’re just proving you’re strong by getting back up, y’know?”• Finishing Dungeon: “We did it! Were those Monk techniques you were using? You’ve got a lot of tricks up your sleeves! Thanks, mister!”

Bonus Limit Break: Watching Arthur limit break the boss to his own detriment will give Alley a range of emotions; first a cheer, then great concern. Needless to say, she’d do what she could to get him back up on his feet, and perhaps feel a little guilty she forgot to Limit Break instead to save him from going down.

Though they’ve not met outside of the dungeon, Alley takes a keen interest in Caliburn and Arthur’s many techniques! She’ll prioritise his targets and make sure they’re Trick Attacked before whatever burst Arthur puts out, like Forbidden Chakra.

Send me a MY TURN! to see how Allie/Alley would react to you in her party!  

[cherrytart-ffxiv]

"If you could change one event or aspect of your life, good or bad, what would it be? Or alternatively, where would you rather be at this moment in your life?" - Truth Serum

Audrey’s eyes are slightly glassy as the question is posed to her. Her gaze is cast down to the drink in her hand, and she sets it down on the table. Slowly does she sink down to sit, rubbing her hands against her face.

“Ever meeting Alfie,” she croaks. “Ever meeting that rotten, snake son of a bitch. But if I didn’t meet him… if I didn’t meet him, then I wouldn’t have the people in my life that I have now. My friends. I wouldn’t have… Caius…’ She blinks, takes a breath. “…Meet Alfie. I’d suffer this a hundred more times and beyond if it meant that I got to meet Caius at the end of it.

“B-But… Where would I rather be…” The poor girl seems very out of it. “At this moment in my life, I would rather be free, and on the ocean. I wouldn’t be afraid of turning corners, wouldn’t be afraid of the word no. I would rather be anywhere than I am at this moment in my life. Out of this situation. Even if it meant, like, living in Ul’dah again.” 

(( Thank you for the ask, @agent-nightingale-xiv! ))TRUTH SERUM ASKS

[fulcrum-agent]

77. “You shouldn’t have even been there!” Seems fitting for Arthur and Ashe RN

If there was one thing that aggravated Ashe, it was having someone try to give her orders of any type, whether well-intentioned or not. She often didn’t tolerate it when Jurien attempted to do such things, only allowing it in very particular situations, and often rebelling otherwise.

And above all else, she was a redhead.

The withering gaze that’s given to Arthur as she draws herself up to her full height is piercing, her demeanour shifting to one that’s not only irritated but one that’s commanding, making her seem quite a bit taller than her five or so fulms.

“Mister D’ehcan,” she intones, using that rarely heard tone of royal authority, “lest you forget, I’m the one in charge of this operation. Not you, nor your alliance. If I feel I must go somewhere, then I will damn well go there, even if no escort is available.”

((Delayed, but tag @agent-nightingale-xiv!))

[mimaxiv]

💋💋💋💋💋

[ethiriel-blog1]

👋

((Please come say hello!! Eth would adore making friends

[lizzyverydizzyyo]

D.E.A.N | Chapter 15 - Visit

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3

A/N from the bottom of my heart, I am very sorry for taking this long to update. I swear I'm trying my best ;____; anyway here you go enjoy Mark indulging Nick's whims again

Wordcount: ± 4324

TW : Allusion to Past Sexual Assault and Forced Prostitution (noncon), Mentions of Drug Use and Drug Trafficking, Mention of Torture, Captivity

Summary:

The team’s charge is requesting a (literal) trip down the memory lane, and Mark chooses to grant it, much to everyone’s chagrin (and their eventual surrendered blessing).

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

------

Once again, his team gives Mark disappointed and teasing looks.

He thinks that maybe this time, it’s warranted. Sort of.

Really, he can assure them that he is not illogical and can still function perfectly and objectively when needed. He is just very sympathetic with Nicky.

That’s why he ordered a perfectly disguised run-of-the-mill car with a supposedly full-body sticker typical of car advert (a fake company, of course) and fake plate number from their drop point agent. It isn’t their usual disguised SUV with tinted windows that they regularly exchange on every visit to avoid detection and recognition, either by hidden Helga member or civilian.

Horace and other agents have tried to convince him that it’s a bad idea, but since they’re nowhere near raid time yet (because changing information made tactical intelligence recommended delaying it), he might as well do what he is doing. After locking Nightingale in Nick’s room with food and water, of course.

“If Helga member caught you, killed you, and kidnapped Nick again, we’re not gonna fetch either of you or your body,” Don said before he and Nick departed three hours ago.

Luke, as disappointed as he is, told George to come with so that if the worst scenario happens, Mark is not going to have to hold off the danger alone with just inexperienced Nick.

He changed the SUV once he arrived at the drop point at around one and a half hour mark after three of them left the team’s headquarter. He left the double FBI/D.E.A.N agent looking at him in puzzlement with only “Don’t worry about it”. Then George, Nick, and Mark got into the disguised shitty car.

Now, they’re enroute to Oregon to visit Nick’s family.

Indirectly, of course.

Even if he likes to indulge Nick lately, he is still smart enough to not let him anywhere near his family to directly interact with them. That’s why he also ordered a new disguised car that doesn’t look like D.E.A.N’s typical vans, SUVs, or battle jeeps.

As he gives a slight look to his right where he sees asleep Nick’s head leaning against the window, Mark considers that maybe he needs to be a little firmer to the younger man.

He just doesn’t have the heart to do so, especially as he saw Nick’s pleading and sorrowful face when he was training his marksmanship.

“Can I….can I see my family,” Nick said with shaky and small voice, “please?”

Of course, he can’t say no to that face. How is he supposed to?

On the back, George is crossing his arms with irritated but alert look.

They’ve all been trained to always be on guard, especially outside of their headquarters so that they can anticipate sudden attacks. They are not really anticipating any as they’re going from Nevada dessert to Oregon suburban, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.

They’re planning to change drivers at four hours mark out of their projected eight hours drive (excluding the drive from the headquarter to their drop point that took around one and a half hour before), without including Nick.

They don’t know how well Nick can drive considering he’s been under Helga’s hold for almost four years. In that time, he was probably not allowed to operate any vehicle, so even if he’s had driver’s license at 16, he might be out of practice at this point. Or maybe, he doesn’t even have a driver’s license.

Mark has never seen any social media post displaying Nick driving or looking like he drives a car on his own. Maybe he can ride motorcycle, as shown by some of his photos on top of motorbikes, like his extended family members in South East Asia. That region is pretty famous for their abundant bike riders.

But car? Neither George nor Mark can trust him with it.

“So, what is he gonna do exactly once we arrive there?” George asks him.

He throws a look at the rearview mirror. “Probably just checking how his family is doing.”

“And how is he gonna accomplish that? It’s not like we can talk to them.”

Mark rolls his eyes.

If he hates it so much, why did he agree to go with him? He could have just told Lena to go instead.

“He can watch from afar. We’ve got all of his family members’ addresses, right? We can check them one by one indirectly.”

George shakes his head. “I can’t believe you really use your clearance to access confidential census database to gather his families’ data illicitly.”

“Well, it’s not like he minds. He doesn’t know where they live now since they moved after he was kidnapped.” He looks ahead again. “They don’t keep it secret either. Showing their home appearance and geotagging their location voluntarily on Instagram. You know how social medias are nowadays.”

George cocks his head to the side slightly with raised eyebrows as an agreement.

“Why is no one teaching anyone internet safety anymore? I never told anyone my full name or any real-life identifying info back in the 90s and early 2000s while in chatrooms.”

Mark throws a look at the rearview mirror again. “Yeah, me neither.”

“How do people even make money just by being pretty on that site anyway? They just use the same pose, same background, and same style, and same captions too, and somehow companies are willing to drown them in cash,” George grumbles again.

“I’m offended, Georgie,” Mark says with exaggerated look and a hand on his chest like a pearl-clutching lady. “I used to model for extra cash, too, remember?”

“Yeah, but you were, like, professional. Not like these…” George raises his hands to make air quotation mark, “‘influencers’, whatever that means.”

Mark chuckles.

“You’re just jealous because D.E.A.N agents aren’t paid as much.”

“Shut up,” the ginger agent rolls his eyes. “We’re paid almost 150k already. I’m not greedy. I just think their ‘jobs’…” he makes another air quotation mark, “…are stupid and don’t contribute anything useful to society.”

Mark laughs louder, agreeing to some extent.

“You want them to go into D.E.A.N instead?”

George rolls his eyes again. “Oh, please. Like they can survive even a day of our training anyway.”

“True,” Mark chuckles.

Two and half hours later, Mark pulls over, unbuckles his seat belt and walks to the back passenger side while George goes into the driver’s side. By this point, Nick has woken up and fallen back asleep again at least 10 times.

It’s probably because they departed quite early at 5 AM and Nick, with his sporadic sleep between nightmares, hasn’t gotten enough rest yet. Even in the car, he sometimes wakes up normally, and sometimes wakes up with a jolt and frantic look while whipping his head around in anxiety.

Both Mark and George worried in the beginning, but then they unfortunately end up waving it off since it seems to be Nick’s normal anyway. Even Nick himself seems used to it.

Eventually, nearly at 3 PM that day, Nick looks around the surrounding area with reminiscing and familiar look. This seems to be where he used to live before the rug was pulled under him. There is a smile on his face, but a sad one.

“Do you know where they live now?” the heterochromatic-eyed boy asks.

“Yeah. I’ve got the addresses marked on the satellite GPS,” Mark replies as he pokes his head between the front seats and fiddles with the encrypted satellite map screen.

“Whose address is that?” Nick stares at the red dot nearest to their own location as they pull over around a hundred yards away the house on the dot.

“Your parents. Or do you want to go to your sister first?”

“Um—”

“Dude, we’re already here,” George interrupts irritably. “Let’s just see the parents first.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Nick looks guilty and cowering almost in fear. George sighs at the expression on Nick’s face.

“Do you mind just checking your mom and dad first since we’re already here?”

Nick still looks demure while looking down, even if George sounds less annoyed and hands him a binocular. “I guess—I—yeah. Yeah, sure.”

When he looks out the window, he fortunately sees even his other family members there. There is a young woman maybe around Mark’s own age walking into the house with a man wearing baby sling on his chest going around his back. The woman hugs a much older woman and does cheeks kiss with her, then she hugs the older man besides who seems to be the young woman’s mother.

“Oh, my sister is here too,” Nick says while looking out with a binocular that George handed to him.

“Yeah, Alisa Conrad.”

Nick looks back to Mark questioningly.

“She’s gotten married, Nick. She’s no longer Belyaev.”

Nick’s face falls before he turns back around to looks out of the window.

“When?”

Nick’s voice is tight.

“Almost two years ago,” George now replies softly. “One of your sister’s posts on her social media says that she met the guy on a support group for missing people’s family.”

Nick’s bicolored eyes blink fast as they get glassy.

“I’m sorry, dude,” George tells him gently again.

Nick forces a smile. “I mean, at least she is happy, right?”

“She still does vigils and remembrance every 12th February. She hasn’t forgotten you, Nicky,” Mark tells him. “As do your parents.”

Nick’s Adam apple moves as he gulps deeply, trying keep his tears at bay.

“Are they—” Nick gulps again and inhales shakily, “—are they safe?”

“Yeah. D.E.A.N keeps an eye regularly on the families of the missing kids suspected to be taken by Helga,” George informs him. “From afar, of course.”

“That’s—” Nick inhales again with shaky breath, his tears finally falling from the corners of his eyes, “—that’s good. I’m, yeah, I’m glad.”

He raises his hands, trying to frantically wipe the tears falling on his cheeks.

“What else have I missed?” Nick shakily asks both of them.

George and Mark look at each other contemplatively.

“Um, okay. The guy? Next to your sister?” George starts, pointing at the house where Nick’s family are walking into. “That’s her husband. Tom Conrad. Thomas Isaac Conrad, to be exact.”

George looks at Nick to gauge his reaction.

“He is in the same support group for the surviving family of missing persons, as I said,” George continues to explain. “His older brother, I think he was named Lee Conrad, went missing on the 2004 tsunami when his family was going on holiday in Asia.”

Nick is still slightly sniffling as he watches George raptly, but more composed now. He responds, “That’s sad.”

“Yeah, but you know. It’s 12 years ago,” George then quickly adds, “Well. Almost, I guess.”

“That’s still horrible,” Nick replies with slightly squinting eyes.

“I mean, yeah, of course,” George hurriedly explains again, “but he’s probably more used to, or more adept at, dealing with the loss than your sister.”

Nick sighs shakily, an understanding flitting on his face.

“I saw…” Nick pauses, “I saw the guy—Tom, right?—wearing a baby sling.”

He doesn’t really phrase it as a question, but Mark understands.

“Yeah. Your sister has a kid with his husband just recently,” Mark explains.

Nick bites his lips again, seemingly with a new bout of weeping incoming.

“We had a pact, you know,” Nick sniffles shakily, trying to compose himself visibly, “that when either of us gets married, we will be each other’s best man and maid of honor. And we’ll also be each other’s kids’ godparent.”

Nick chokes again, and George awkwardly hands a box of tissue. Nick doesn’t even try to hide his messy composure and just roughly pulls out so many sheets of tissue.

“I wasn’t even on her wedding. Or the kid’s birth. I didn’t even know she had a wedding and a kid. I’m fucking terrible.”

He weeps again with face buried into his palms.

“Nick, it’s not like you wanted to miss any of that. You’re a good brother, I’m sure she knows that still,” Mark tries to touch his shoulder calmingly. “I don’t doubt that she still believes in you and your capacity to the best brother she could ever ask for. And the best uncle her kid can have.”

George just looks sadly and awkwardly as Mark rubs Nick’s shoulder gently to soothe him.

“She’s named her daughter after you,” Mark tells him again, hoping that it will at least cheer him. “You have a niece called Nikola Lee Conrad. Or Nicole.”

Nick gives a tight, trembling smile before choking out another sob as he pushes the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“You want…um,” George unsurely speaks up, “wanna see her pictures?”

Nick continues to laugh-sobs as he looks at George beside him. Both George and Mark feel somewhat serene but also uncomfortably puzzled about what Nick is actually feeling, and what they should do next.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” Nick finally announces as he finally manages to keep his weeping under control. “Where can I see it?”

George then turns around to the back to face Mark as Mark unbuckles the seatbelt that secures their highly encrypted mobile laptop. They always have one with them in travels or any occasion outside of headquarter, just in case they would need to access internet, database, or more complicated communication with other departments or agents that can’t be done with their barebone phone.

George opens the device and starts clicking, activating secure activity masking protocol on top of its already built-in safeguard. The screen flits around for a while before it shows an online page of Nick’s sister’s social media profile.

“Here. It’s posted on the day after the kid was born,” George explains as he turns the monitor to Nick’s direction and hands it to his lap.

Nick’s face, even wet with tear streaks, breaks out into a wide and loving smile as he stares at the screen. It’s showing baby Nicole in a swaddle with her slightly swollen face under a beanie and teeny palms covered by baby mittens.

Nick smiles affectionately still. “She’s beautiful.”

Mark doesn’t want to comment on how the baby still looks very much newborn, and like any newborn, her appearance is quite strange and… alien. In front of him at the left, George is also visibly holding his tongue.

However, Mark will admit that there is something more in her tiny body. It’s almost like Nicole is radiating sunshine at anyone who sees her. There is a power, in a way, that pulls everyone who lays eyes on her to cradle her and protect her.

On his other front, Nick cocks his head to the side gently as he coos.

Nick visibly looks down on the caption below the picture, where there is an extremely long text. He starts to read it.

Sometimes, life deals us unavoidable losses—losses that cripple our heart, our soul, our mind—losses that leave a gaping, aching void that can never be filled with anything but the ones we've lost. Sometimes, losses befall us in the most unexpected time and way, and we are left reeling with the sense of detachment from reality—because how can that possibly happen, our loved ones were just right there, next to us.

Mark can see his smile faltering slightly, but Nick continues.

In times like these, with the reminder of what we've lost approaching fast and passing by just as quickly, it can feel like we are stuck in a cold, paralyzing thunderstorm full of relentless lightnings that strike deep fear into our innermost selves. The downpour may also freeze us, leaving gripping chill in our bones and all over our skin for hours on end. But even the harshest rains will taper off, and afterwards follows a rainbow littering the sky with color, hope, and warmth. A new weather—new beginning arrives at last.

He chuckles affectionately. “Alisa has always been such a poet.”

Of course, the two bright young men now gone despite the long lives supposedly ahead of them—Leroy Hansen Conrad and Nikolai Khiem Belyaev—can never be replaced, ever, and their accomplishments forgotten. But the pain that has become a permanent fixture in our lives, creeping up deeper and tighter since the days our dear brothers left us behind, has never felt so manageable and the air so breathable since our little angel blessed us with her presence.

Nick’s face is unreadable this time.

We know that Lee and Nicky will forever stay in our hearts, and so, to commemorate and celebrate their lives—however short they were with us—and the marks they left on our own, we will let their spirit live on through our beloved daughter, Nikola Lee Conrad.

Nick pulls his lips in and bites them, then he lets out shuddering breath as another roll of tear falls down his cheek which his quick hand immediately wipes. Finally, he looks up at both Mark and George.

“When’s her actual birthdate?” Nick asks shakily.

“See this?” Mark points at the date of the post at the beginning of March. “She was born on 29th February this year.”

Nick chuckles, still frantically rubbing his face and wiping his tears. “A leap year baby. She must be special.”

Mark is sure she is.

Nick scrolls through his sister’s profile to see the other photos. There are quite scant pictures there. She doesn’t seem to post more than four or five times a year, but Nick finds a newer picture anyway of his niece at maybe around three months old.

“Awh,” Nick coos again, still in wonder and full of love. “She’s so chubby. I’m happy she is healthy.”

Mark agrees, and he is sure George does too. Unlike the other one, she looks very pretty and adorable in that photo.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” George comments with his own smile.

“She even has your eyes,” Mark comments absently to Nick. “Her eyes also have mix of brown and blue color.”

Nick chuckles at the picture before going back to forlorn look again.

Our little angel is getting bigger now! Before we know it, we’re going to send her to college 🥺

“They’re already content with each other. Without me,” Nick absently comments as he looks out again with binocular.

George looks somewhat sad and angry too, although not really at Nick.

“Dude, of course not! They still want you back. They still remember you,” the ginger says quite passionately, “besides, you’re asking to come here for a reason. You can’t possibly just give up and abandon your family now.”

“I just…” Nick bites his lower lip again, seemingly racking his brain for the perfect words to say, “they’ve made themselves at peace with just each other.”

Nick waits a while again before continuing, “I’m just gonna intrude if I come back and shake up whatever dynamic and relationship they have together.”

Marcus rolls his eyes and take the laptop gently from Nick’s lap. He clicks a little bit until it gets to a picture posted on August 7th that year, where it shows Alisa, her mother, her father, her husband, and some young relatives standing behind a kitchen counter with Nicole in baby carrier on the table.

Some of them still have their aprons while holding the baking rack’s edges with the macaron shells on top. Next to the baking rack, there are also some piping bags filled with colorful creams.

“Look, Nick,” Mark gently tells him as he puts the laptop back to Nick’s lap.

Happy 21st birthday, Nicky!!!! Remember when I said I would bring you to a club to drink yourself silly and dance with as many strippers as you want this day? That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Apparently, Mom and Dad are quite the stickler for upstanding behavior in our community, so we’re just baking you French macarons instead, which you also love anyway, right?

Nick clenches his jaw and gulps, mixture or affectionate reminiscence and grieving regret visible in his bicolored eyes.

All of us have never stopped wishing for you to come home and eat these with us again, Nicky, or even bake with us—with me—like so many times before. We’ll never stop praying for your homecoming. Wherever you are, baby bro, I hope you’re enjoying as many macarons as you’d like (until you have cavity hahaha), but come on here sometimes, okay?

“They’re still celebrating your birthday,” George quips in, “and better celebration too than what we gave you.”

Nick looks up at George with a slight smile. “You guys gave me macarons and ice cream cake. It was really nice.”

“Yeah, but, we were kinda, you know…” George squirms in his seat, “mean to you on your birthday. And locked you in the holding cell. Which wasn’t very nice.”

Even Mark looks down slightly in embarrassment.

“It’s…okay,” Nick responds unsurely, “since you guys are, you know, indulging me nowadays.” Nick contemplates a little more. “Especially you, George, for tolerating Nightingale,” the aforementioned agent smiles lopsidedly, “and you Marcus, for bringing her to me.”

Mark feels that weird jolt in his heart again at Nick’s small but earnest smile and colorful bashful eyes.

“And also taking me here.”

Mark pulls his focus back to the present again.

“I know the others aren’t really cool with it, but you insisted for me. I hope they’re not gonna be too mad at either of you.”

Mark waves off Nick’s reserved words as he looks at Mark through his lashes unsurely. “They’ll get over it, don’t worry.”

Nick gives another small smile then looks back out the window.

The silence goes on for around half an hour as Nick repeatedly looks at the binocular and putting it down again. He finally turns around to face George and Mark again.

“Where do they live now?” Nick asks, “my sister’s family, I mean.”

“15-minutes drive from here. In an, um,” Mark replies, pausing unsurely to think about how to say the next thing appropriately, “affordable apartment. To say the least.”

Nick looks to the back at him in question, earning sad sighs from both agents.

“They sold almost all of their assets, both your parents and your sister,” Marcus starts, “to hire more private investigators around three or so month after you were taken. The police department lowered your case to less urgent level at that time to deal with more recent missing persons cases.”

Nick blanches at the explanation, slowly looking out again now with the realization that his parents’ house is much smaller and different—as also shown by his sister’s post on his birthday—than his childhood one. It’s also in a less than stellar neighborhood, even if the previous one isn’t too far or too extravagant either. But they were at least almost upper middle class before.

“They shouldn’t…” Nick’s swirly blue-brown eyes start getting glassy again, “they shouldn’t have done that. Why would they waste all of that for me?”

“Because you’re their family, Nick, and I told you before that they still want you home with them,” George says, uncharacteristically reassuring and sympathetic. “If I were in the same situation, and anything happens to one of my family members, I would give anything too to save them and bring them back home.”

Nick chuckles sarcastically as he still chokes on his sob.

“I don’t think they would want to anymore if they know how I am now,” he hoarsely says, “what I’ve done. What I let people do to me.”

Mark knows the implication, of course, as does George surely. It’s always been highly suspected that what the kidnappees inside Helga are going through aren’t just physical torture and forced drug uses or forced drug distribution jobs. It pretty much goes unsaid that what Nick went through are also more… violating.

“Hey, don’t say that,” George touches his shoulder. “Your sister just made birthday celebration for you, remember?”

“I know they won’t love you any less for what you’ve gone through, Nick.” Mark offers this time. “None of it is what you wanted or sought out, is it?”

Nick avoids looking at both of them. There is grief and humiliation on his face.

“I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye if they know what I had to do to survive, even just a little bit,” Nick mutters with trembles, more tears falling from his bicolored and glassy eyes. “Hell, I can’t even look at myself in the eye. I’m just…”

Nick pulls up a hand to frantically wipe out his tears again.

“Looking at myself just makes me nauseous and ashamed, you know? Like I’m dirty… and tainted. Not to mention—” Nick chokes out a sob again eventually, “—I hate my eyes now. They…” Nick shudderingly inhales, “those bastards, they kept making me look at my own eyes in the mirror, when…”

Nick clenches his jaw, unable to finish the sentence, although it isn’t necessary. They both, and especially Mark, know what Nick means.

“Fuck. They just kept taunting me, telling me that my eyes are what brought all of those shit to myself. I don’t have any dignity left anymore.”

Jesus, those fucking bastards don’t disappoint, do they? They truly are just as heinous as the worst prediction D.E.A.N and the entire government have of them, if not more.

“I can’t… I don’t want to know what my family thinks—how they’re gonna look at me, if they find out.” Nick sniffles again. “I don’t… I don’t want to come back. Not like this. Not after everything done to me.”

George and Mark give him some time for in silence, sensing that any reassurance will just sound empty to Nick. After a while, he eventually just gives back the binocular, signaling that he has seen all he wants to see and felt all the turmoil he’s willing to feel.

***

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

[dingoat]

Feeding the Birds

Completed commission for @agent-nightingale-xiv, a kindly old but very scarred dragonborn. I loved getting the opportunity to do this one!!

[veliona-xiv]

∯

“You know all that food you keep giving me? Yeah I put that in the trash. And no I’d never give that to my children are you fucking insane?” 

For every ∯ I get I will say/confess something without specifying for whom it is meant

[clearsundays]

ARCHETYPE TEST: SUN’LI YHUNJA

The Caregiver

The Caregiver is an altruist, moved by compassion, generosity and selflessness to help others. Although prone to martyrdom and enabling behaviors, the inner Caregiver helps us raise our children, aid those in need, and build structures to sustain life and health. Caregivers first seek to help others, which they do with compassion and generosity. A risk the Caregiver takes in their pursuit to help others is their tendency to harm themselves. They dislike selfishness, especially in themselves, and fear what it might make them do.

Shadow Side: The martyr. This will manifest itself in your desire to control others by making them feel guilty, e.g. “Look at all I sacrificed for you!” The martyr evidences itself in all manipulative or devouring behaviors, in which you use care-taking to control or smother others. It is also found in co-dependence; a compulsive need to take care of, or rescue others.

Life Goal: Help others through sacrifice Fear: Selfishness, ingratitude Response to Problem: Take care of those it harms Life Task: Give without maiming self or others Personal Gifts: Compassion, generosity, nurturing, community Personal Pitfalls: Martyrdom, enabling others, co-dependence, guilt-tripping

__

WHOA?! I was surprised at how accurate some of this was AHAHA 

You can take the test here!

Tagged by:  @spoonfuls-of-sugar​!!!! Thank you for tagging!!!!!!! ♥

Tagging: @theflowerrabbit @jargals-quarters @theshieldedhero @coeurlfist @keeperofthelilacs @sinakakyralih @keeperprinceling @nightmaze @alusbeauregard@lumei-xiv @mathemagiks @isuke-ejinn @agent-nightingale-xiv @outofsteppelily @weaveroftruth @ra-tykan @a-sharlayan-abroad @whisperingdawn AND WHOEVER HASN’T DONE IT YET \o/ PLEASE GO FOR IT!!!!!!!!

[its-morphin-time-xiv]

if your found family aren't all at least a little bit pure of heart, dumb of ass, home of sexual bastards then you've failed

[benes-diction]

(If i can send another) ⌨ - What situation have you always wanted to RP

(You can always send another!)

Other than the plots involving Celia that I can’t talk about because spoilers... I’ve been really wanting to figure out a way to get the Benes family out of Garlemald. With Theodosia being a Popularis and Caelia poking her nose into the Imperial Court’s business, they’ve all got targets on their backs. 

But at the same time, as much as I want a sweet tearful reunion between parents and children, I still have a lot to figure out before I decide to drag them from point A to point B and make them suffer the journey. Plus, with Caelia and Celia’s tol smuggling information to each other, I’d like to leave that channel open so Celia and the others can know what’s going on at home.

But if more information comes out about what’s going on, I’m fully prepared and 100% ready to make this RP dream come true and yank the rest of the Beanie Babies into safety.