#this all happened bc I started wearing my retainer during the day

[asexualjedi]

Noticed a spot on the tooth that my dentist said might become a cavity and I haven’t been to the dentist in like a year and some change bc of like no one wearing masks. And like do u think if ask very nicely I can see if the dentist will wear a n95 or something while I’m there. I just want to get my teeth looked at especially bc I was an idiot and was like let me look at images to see if this is a cavity or I’m just overreacting. I’ve seen so many awful pciture of cavity’s of just awful teeth stuff god I thought the picture book at my orthodontist was bad. I’m scared to go to sleep now bc I have such horrible teeth related anxiety dreams and now I have such nightmare fuel.

[friiday-thirteenth]

guys im bored hear abt how i broke my arm. TW for broken bones, dissassociation, vomiting, drugs and needles. Also this is like. Therapy. Idk.

weird thing about it was that i was feeling intense happiness, because I’d just confirmed my classes for the next year and i was jsut. Really happy.

So i did this little twirly thing??? idk. Anyway, my ankle went out under my, i put my hand back and crack.

I know there was a definite seperation between the before and after of this. Like, the adrenaline made it feel like I was aware of everything.

After I fell, and after the crack, I stood up fast. I didn’t realise my wrist was fucked until I saw it - and it wasn’t a compound fracture, the skin was still unbroken. But it looked fucking nasty. It was supposed to be held straight, but the wrist was shifted.... up. And it was floppy, but I could control it if I wanted to be in immense amounts of pain.

I started walking over to my P.E. teacher. I said his name once, really loudly - and then he didn’t hear me, so I kept walking. I was cradling my wrist against my body at this point, and I just needed to move. It helped distract from my pain at that point.

When I reached him and he saw my wrist he was like fuck. He didn’t say it, but I could see it, and he said, “ Okay, we need to get you to the sickbay and call your parents.”

Okay, this happened before that when I was walking over. One of the people who was around me had walked beside me and was asking questions, and I straight up said, “Ruby, if you don’t walk away right now, I will either scream or burst into tears and scream, please go away.” I couldn’t handle anyone being near me.

Then when we were walking off the turf (where we were doing P.E. that day, as opposed to the gym.) one of the guys saw my arm and was like holy shit and I’m 99% sure I just looked at him with a really worried look. My face was going white I’m pretty sure, which is weird because I’m naturally flushed quite a lot of the time.

We had to walk up stairs. That fucking sucked. The pain was fine whenever it wasn’t jolting me, and we were walking fast, so you can imagine how I was trying to be very careful.

I’m 99% sure I was terrified that I was going to tip over again, and that would’ve hurt. I was just focusing on staying on my feet.

We got to the office/sickbay and they sat me down. I made myself get my retainer out of my mouth because it was.... foreign. I was going to - I’d say have a panic attack, but I’m not sure that’s the correct name for it - do something bad if I kept it in, because there was something already wrong with me and I just couldn’t handle it.

Also I asked if I could swear. Like, “Um, would it be okay if I, uh, swore?” and the person in there with me looked at me like wtf child and said i could.

Later, one of the teachers who’d walked by told me that they had no idea I had that filthy a mouth on me. Swearing helped a lot.

They made me put my wrist in this makeshift sling thing, which made me want to fucking cry. They sent someone to get my bag, and I told them to leave as soon as they’d gotten it, because I couldn’t handle any of my peers seeing my like that. probably because I felt extremely vulnerable.

I never swore at anyone. I can remember not wanting to, because I didn’t feel that they deserved it? Like, I didn’t want to take my pain out on them. Very strange.

They didn’t give me any panadol or nuramol or nurofen (pretty sure that isn’t how you spell it but eh). I can remember that, because they said that it might react badly to whatever drugs they gave me in the hospital.

When my mum got there, we went over to the car and I put my seatbelt on myself bc im independant like that, before I rolled my head back and scream-said to my mother to hurry up please I feel like I’m dying. Because she was talking to my teacher.

At that point I was being a melodramatic shit, because my pain level I think? was a four, unless I moved my arm, then it jolted into a six.

Anyway. I sung/murmured hamilton songs really fast as we drove the like, five minutes to the hospital because that helped distract me from the pain.

When we got to the hospital and the emergency room, we ended up waiting like 20 minutes which were all hell. My dad came at one point and I told mum he needed to leave because I couldn’t handle having him there. Not for any bad reasons, just that I fucking hated dealing with people and if I had to deal with him I’d cry.

I didn’t cry at any point during this, which was weird. I didn’t like that.

Someone gave me two panadol or something, which didn’t help in the least. They got mum to fill out an acc form - I can remember her asking me things. The pain was bad, like a constant throbbing that was there. I’m pretty sure I started not being there at some point during the time I was waiting. It was easier than dealing with it all, because there were people staring at me and my arm and I wanted to scream at them because none of them were as bad as me and why the fuck are you staring at me.

Anyway. When the nurse came - she was really nice - she got me into a room and to sit on a bed, and then we waited for what was maybe half an hour? There was an old guy dying or nearly dying in the room beside mine and I felt like.... weird because of it. It didn’t feel right, that he was dying.

When they got me a doctor - after me scaring the shit out of a nurse who I thought was a doctor  (i still cringe at the memory) - he ws really nice. He was wearing a haiwaiian shirt and was supposed to be going home, and I was quite lucky that they’d caught him as he was leaving.

They got me on some nitrous oxide to calm me down, or to take the pain away.

Now here’s where thigns get a little less linear, I think.

I can’t remember when they put the I.V. in, whether it was before or after the x-ray. The x-ray was hell, because they made me put my munted arm flat on the cold surface of whatever the fuck they were using for the xray. I had dropped the nitrous oxide tube thingy out of my mouth at that point.

The nitrous oxide was nice. It made me feel tired, and when the dude stuck the needle in my arm and then put the I.V. in, I didn’t care about it. I hadn’t been worried before, perse, just uncomfortable because of the whole broken wrist dealie.

Anyway. X-rays. They said I’d broken the tip off my radius. Then the I.V. Then they got an anathesiologist to come in and explain what was going to happen to me.

This whole time they’d explain exactly what they were going to do, because I asked. A lot. I needed to know what was happening so that then I would know what was going on and that was jus tme reiterating what I’d just said ahaha

Anyway. He explained the options, and in the end they decided to give me ketamine.

For those who don’t know, ketamine is a horse tranquilizer. Its also fucking nasty, coming back up from it.

Mum signed a waiver stating that the hospital wasn’t responsible if I died or something.

This was because, as they explained, ketamine shuts off a part of the brain. If too much of it is used, then you die because it shuts off your breathing, your heart, etc. They had shit that would stop that, if anything bad happened. They put electrodes on me at one point. At least, I think that’s what they were called.

They also might’ve upped the dosage, because what could’ve happened was that they fucked up setting my arm the first time, and they had to cut it out and redo it. If they’d redone it, I’d’ve had to go into theatre.

The whole time this was happening I was terrified I was going to out myself to my mum. I have an odd track record of saying weird shit randomly while I’m in pain.

Ketamine also takes you into a dreamland, which is why drug addicts can get addicted. You basically lucid dream, but way more intensely than normal, if you’ve ever ahd a lucid dream. Or it can take you into an absolutely hellish nightmare scape, if you aren’t thinking good things when you go under.

I had neither. I didn’t even know I’d gone under. What happpened was that they put the ketamine in the I.V., and a minute late I was out.

It felt like blinking. When I opened my eyes, it was like in movies where they blink and its a new scene each time.

Blink. They were moving me to the x-ray. My head ached. My eyes wouldn’t focus. Someone was talking about their car.

Blink. They were moving my arm.

Blink. They were moving me back to the room I’d been in.

Every time I moved my head, it just. It was on another side. I couldn’t focus my eyes for three quarters of an hour. I felt tired, and sleepy, and like shit.

Thye got me to sit up at one point. I nearly vomited. They gave me a pill. It was chalky and the taste was nasty.

When they got me to move from the bed to a chair, I vomited.

I hadn’t eaten for longer than six hours, at that point. It was bile coming up. It burnt my throat. I couldn’t stop.

When I forced myself to breathe again and stop vomiting, they gave me water and left me for a minute. They had people they needed to get in the room, I think, so I was trying to move. They got me into a chair in a bit that was in between the x-ray room and where I’d been. Mum talked with someone else who was there with her daughter.

The cast was big and white, because of the type of break. It was heavy and they put me in a sling when I left. I was able to walk straight. They’d been concerned I wouldn’t be. I’m pretty sure I thanked everyone who’d helped, if I saw them.

Mum took me to get subway. Then we went home.

My sibling had broken their arm around about a year and two weeks before I’d broken mine. Their’s had been the two bones in their lower arm. They’d had to go into theatre for it and have trauma around it. My parents won’t get them to go to therapy and they won’t go willingly

When I got home, they had a panic attack or some shit and started screaming at me when I was short at them. Fuck them for that.

I went into a room and started messaging my friends. i videocalled them and showed them my arm. i was acting all stupid and weird about it by being really silly and stuff. I didn’t feel like any of it was happening, even though I knew it was. At some point I found out I had the electrode thingies still on me. I pulled them off.

People were so concerned about me, it was weird. I ended up responding to them individually as opposed to not. Someone thought that it was a joke and that everyone was lying about it. I gave them a play-by-play and they believed it then.

Even weeks after it happened, it still felt vaguely not real. The first time I cried about it was seven days after, when I tried and failed to make homemade macaroni and cheese.

I learnt that the chunk of bone beside the wrist - the one down at the top of the ulna - had completely seperated from the rest of the bone.

All the wrist bones and muscles had pulled back, which was my wrist had been so weird.

Everyone who helped me was really nice. I’m glad that they were nice, because I got told later about doctors who were bitches and were in the emergency department. Also got told that ketamine was really fucking weird for them to be giving me.

I got prescribed Tramadol. Mum and dad wouldn’t let me take any of it. my sibling had been prescribed it when they’d broken their arm. they’d taken it. Apparently tramadol can put you in a depressive state.

i don’t know what would’ve happened to me if I’d taken it at that point. even before the arm my head was in a bad place. I’m better now though.

I pushed through the pain on panadol.

I broke my arm on a friday. saturday, sunday, I spent at home. Monday I went to school. Felt like passing out at some point.

Yeah, that’s basically what happened when I broke my arm

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 4

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 8.5k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, ehhh lots of angst and fighting oh nooo, and mentions of sexual acts

the plot thickens and there’s no actual smut in this part i’m sorrryyyyyy but more smut is coming!! i pinky pwomise uwu

-------

"Morning, jagiya. Do you have a minute?"

You're practically vibrating with the effort of acting normal as you process Taehyung's question. What can you even say to that? Oh, sorry. Actually, can you guys come back later? I'm kind of in the middle of discovering a secret fucking society of PhysComs who are dating their clients, and I'm trying to see if there's a way I can get in on that sweet, sweet deal. Fuck no. That's not going to work. Anything other than agreeing will sound too suspicious, and you can’t let them know what you’ve discovered. At least, not yet.

"Of course." You paste on a smile as you reply, your mind still reeling as you pull the door open all the way. You’re still wearing only your robe, but it’s silly of you to shield your body when it’s theirs to ogle during work hours anyway.

“What can I do for you, masters?” You ask sweetly, slipping on your persona like a second skin to keep your thoughts safely hidden from view. Your clients should always be your first priority. Not rule breaking, and certainly not any unlikely fantasies of romance.

Something seems off about their body language. They look uncomfortable. You’re suddenly reminded of the weird tension in the air when you last saw them, and just how fragile your position is after everything that happened last night. You need to rid their minds of what they saw at dinner. They need to view you as their eager little toy again, not someone who broke or someone to be pitied.

You instantly thicken the illusion of obscenity, eager to convince them, and maybe yourself, that things are just the same as they’ve always been.

“So… what would you like from me? A blow job? Hand job?” You stretch your arm up and lean sensually against the door, your eyes half-lidded. “Do you both want to fuck my little holes and stretch me open?” You giggle cutely and start to untie the silky belt of your robe, forcing all thoughts of your ComGear out of your head so you can focus on your job, which is pleasuring your clients. 

Jimin steps forward before you can pull the robe open, and stops your hand. He carefully ties your garment back together, though he avoids your eyes, his expression grim. “No… actually, we want to talk with you.”

Damn. You thought for sure that little ploy would at least fluster them a little, and maybe get them in the mood for something, but they both remain strangely sober.

“It’s about last night,” Taehyung supplies quietly, looking down to the floor.

Well, shit. What is there to talk about? You used your safe word and ruined everyone’s fun. Are they holding it against you or something? That's not really fair when the two of them are partially to blame for distracting you by playing mind games and messing with each other. 

Then it dawns on you. Namjoon probably sent them up to apologize for their fighting. That must be why they’re acting so stiff. After all, he did say that the three of you should work things out together.

You feel a bit relieved and give them a fleeting smile of reassurance. “Masters, it’s okay. Let’s just move on from what happened last night, hm?” You want to take their hands, but you resist the urge. You really shouldn’t initiate contact unless it’s related to their pleasure. You settle for lacing your hands coyly behind your back, making your chest stand out rather provocatively. “I’ve forgotten all about it, really.”

They both still look dreadful. Worried. You finally notice that there's a hint of pity in their eyes and it makes your skin crawl with foreboding. You get the terrible sense that this is about something bigger than safe words, squabbles, and kisses.

“No, we all want to talk to you,” Taehyung explains with a slight clearing of his throat. “In the kitchen. Namjoon-hyung sent us to… come and get you.”

You can feel your heart start to race as your adrenaline spikes from a sudden shot of fear. What could they possibly want? What's changed between last night and today? Sure, logically, they could be calling a meeting for a variety of reasons, but only one scenario is circling through your mind, over and over… and it ends with you packing your bags.

“Do you want to, like... go now, or...?” Jimin mumbles, clearly uncomfortable about the situation.

You blink, feeling dizzy. Your playful aura has disintegrated in an instant and made way for something much more frigid and fearful. “Yeah… um, let me just get dressed first,” you murmur distractedly. “I’ll be down in a minute, masters.”

They nod and thankfully take the hint that you need a moment to collect yourself. The two of them head back downstairs and you shut the door behind them, your whole body numb. You hurry to your closet, trying to retain some semblance of routine despite the storm you feel approaching.

In the daily rotation of things, Friday - last night - was Seokjin’s day for him to do as he pleases with you, and that includes deciding what you wear. The apron you’d had on yesterday was one he had picked out for you beforehand. Your closet is sectioned off into clothes and costumes chosen by each boy for you to don beneath (or in some cases on top of) your utility belt on their chosen days. Some days they request a specific outfit, but most of the time it’s up to you to select from their options. Your favorite clothes to wear are probably either the oversized hoodies with cute panties and no bottoms that Jungkook chose for you, or the crop top and leggings variations that Hoseok loves to see you wear.

But Saturday is for Yoongi, and today’s outfits are what could be considered party clothes, full of strappy leather harnesses, deep jewel-toned mini dresses, and lots of high heels. Not exactly comfort clothing. You love it when they choose what you wear and dress you up like a little doll, it’s hot and everything, but sometimes you just want to wear sweatpants. Or a t-shirt and jeans.

Fuck. You grab a pair of black booty shorts and a busty sequined halter top, the closest thing to daywear out of Yoongi’s choices, and you also elect to go barefoot. If this meeting is as bad as you fear it’ll be, then you don’t know if you’ll be able to stand upright in six inch heels for very long. Sorry, Yoongi.

You blow a lock of hair out of your eyes after squeezing yourself into the tight attire. Credit to Min Yoongi where it’s due, the top does make your tits look amazing, but honestly that should be the least of your concerns right now. You almost laugh at such a trivial thought.

Once you reach your bed, you hastily grab your ComGear, hoping you have at least a few minutes to figure out something before you’re pulled away again. There’s a backlog of messages, but thankfully not too many, as you log back into the chat room.

[ PCsv02_svt ]: oh where did she go [ PCsv01_svt ]: probably got called away [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: probably havin.. sexy times B) [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: wink wink [ PCsv01_svt ]: … [ PCsv03_mtx ]: guys you shouldn’t encourage her about dating :/ [ PCsv03_mtx ]: bad things can happen too [ PCsv06_ast ]: yea sanha is always nice to me, but I know some clients can be... not so nice [ PCsv09_$px ]: yeah, thanks [ PCsv06_ast ]: oh... sorry :( [ PCsv02_svt ]: aww aashi didn’t mean it like that G [ PCsv02_svt ]: we’re all here for you, u know that right? [ PCsv09_$px ]: mm. thanks guys [ PCsv01_svt ]: speaking of which, how are things with you? [ PCsv09_$px ]: uh.. same as always. [ PCsv01_svt ]: has anything happened since last time? [ PCsv09_$px ]: no, but they’ve been out of the house a lot [ PCsv09_$px ]: they have a lot of schedules right now [ PCsv01_svt ]: I see… [ PCsv02_svt ]: oh she’s back!

You stare at the log in dismay. Well, crap. “Bad things” can happen...? What kind of bad things? Is dating clients a thing or not? You have too many questions and not enough answers, and you don’t have time to investigate any of it. The boys are waiting for you downstairs.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: so… my clients just called a meeting with me. I can’t really talk right now. [ PCsv01_svt ]: a meeting? [ PCsv02_svt ]: that’s okay hon! we’ll still be here when u get back ^^ [ PCsv01_bts ]: this is all…fuck sorry, it’s a lot to deal with right now

You rake a hand through your hair, your body and mind are just completely spent from everything that’s happened recently.

[ PCsv01_svt ]: it’s alright, we’re not going anywhere [ PCsv03_twc ]: take your time to understand everything ♡ [ PCsv03_twc ]: it took me a while haha [ PCsv06_ast ]: we’ve got your back! 150% hehe >u< [ PCsv02_svt ]: yeah! don’t sweat it hon~ be kind to yourself, especially when you need to figure things out ^^

All of their assurance pouring in nearly brings a smile to your face. You don’t know most of these people, and you can’t be sure that they aren’t all just really smart bots or spies sent by your network, but… they do seem like a supportive bunch.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: thanks [ PCsv01_bts ]: but what exactly did micha mean by “bad things can happen”? [ PCsv01_bts ]: is dating even safe? [ PCsv03_mtx ]: oh haha… [ PCsv04_blp ]: safe? Oh honey... [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: lolol [ PCsv03_mtx ]: well I just meant that some PhysComs have been… taken advantage of [ PCsv03_mtx ]: so you can’t just jump into it ^^; [ PCsv01_svt ]: i wouldn’t call anything in this line of work “safe” per se [ PCsv01_svt ]: it’s hard to advise anything when we don’t know what your clients are really like [ PCsv01_svt ]: but if you do manage to enter a relationship it can either make or break your employment [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: hell yeahhhhh B)) [ PCsv01_svt ]: for some people it’s a last ditch effort, offering intimacy to idols who are touch starved to begin with… oftentimes breaking those boundaries will changes the client’s perspective, and soon they see you as essential, regardless of any minor misconducts [ PCsv01_svt ]: while for others, the attachment forms naturally and appears to be a genuine connection, such as with sascha and joshua [ PCsv01_svt ]: but of course there’s no way to tell for sure if the client’s feelings are genuine or if they have ulterior motives, so it’s definitely a risk [ PCsv01_svt ]: if things were to turn sour in the relationship, it could lead to termination or worse… you know, hell hath no fury like a lover scorned and all that [ PCsv01_svt ]: people can be duplicitous [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: durr durrr antione smart smart [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: i’m taking notes on ur lecture sir uwu [ PCsv01_svt ]: blake [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: ^-^? [ PCsv01_svt ]: shut the hell your mouth [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: >:D

You sigh. Reading all these names and trying to keep everyone’s identities straight is making your head spin in your already addled state.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: is there a way to change the contact names in this chat? [ PCsv01_svt ]: nope [ PCsv02_svt ]: sorry boo, it’s for protection ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You groan in frustration. Nothing is making sense, you’ve found no answers, and you still aren’t sure you can even trust this chat room. On a whim, you tap on Sascha’s username, and a contact page pulls up for her within the chat app. It doesn’t give any information besides her username and a blank profile photo, but there is a call button.

Shit, what do you have to lose? If this is real and not some elaborate hoax, then Sascha should pick up… right? You could grill her, ask her questions only she would know to prove it’s really her.

A sudden buzz from your ComGear nearly scares you shitless, and you check to see that it’s just a message from Namjoon.

Sweetheart? Could you come down to the kitchen?

You take a deep breath to steel your nerves. Fuck. You can’t put this meeting off any longer. You slip your ComGear into your belt and head downstairs towards what you’re sure will be your inevitable doom.

-------

On your way down the long staircase, you take deep cleansing breaths to combat the growing knot in your stomach. You’re hoping half-heartedly, albeit rather foolishly, that maybe the boys just need your help with something harmless, like making breakfast. They do love your omelettes.

You slow down as you approach the kitchen door, and you can hear many muffled voices arguing on the other side. It sounds like they’re trying to stay quiet, but failing. You stop to listen, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Just because you got to-” “-not fair-” “I don’t like this-” “-so why should she be punished for-” “I swear it wasn’t-”

Punished? You don’t like the sound of that at all, not one bit. Just as panic starts to swarm your mind, Namjoon’s voice rises above the clamor. You lean against the door to hear his calm cadence, much more gentle than the previous raucous of the others.

"Look! Guys, I know it'll be hard. Okay? I know we've all grown very attached to her, but I think... I think this will be for the best. For all of us."

Fuck his calm cadence.

They must be talking about you, they have to be. You’re the only “her” in this house. You feel like you’re drowning in regret and fear, spiraling as your worries returning tenfold, despite your best effort to keep them at bay.

You’re going to walk through that door and they’re going to fire you, you can feel it. Namjoon’s going to look you in the eyes, and where such tenderness had been last night, now there will only be a steely gaze. It’s just business. You slump against the polished wood and bite back a dry sob, burying your face in your hands. You don’t think you can do this.

“God, you make it sound like she’s dying.” There’s Yoongi’s voice, lilted and matter of fact. “She’s not going anywhere.”

You lift your head. Not going anywhere? As in, not being fired?

Oh, bless Min Yoongi and his slutty sequin tops. But then… if you’re not going anywhere, ergo not getting fired, then what the hell are they talking about?

“Yeah, but what if this thing doesn’t work? What if she doesn’t... want this from us?” Jungkook’s timid question draws silence from the room.

“Then things will go back to normal, right? We just… forget it ever happened.” Jin. He sounds bitter and forlorn, not at all like his usual self.

“How can things be normal after what happened last night?” Hoseok sounds even worse than Jin, his voice choked with emotion. “I don’t think I can even have her as a PhysCom anymore! Something has to change.”

This declaration is met with another bout of overlapping arguments, only to be silenced once again by Namjoon.

“No, Hobi-hyung is right.” Namjoon says, his voice decisive and final. “This is a fork in the road for all of us. At the end of the week, we’ll take another vote. If things don’t improve with her, then… we’ll do what has to be done. There are always other PhysComs who can fill the position.”

What... the fuck…?

Ice crawls up your back, as if someone just dumped you into a freezing pool of water. Numbness seeps through your limbs, into your heart.

Are you really that replaceable in their eyes?

You’ve invested all your time into building bonds with these boys specifically so this wouldn’t happen. How can they be so heartless? It hurts. There’s a wrenching pain in your chest at hearing them talk about you so… so pragmatically.

It hurts because it’s exactly the way that you would handle the situation. With pragmatism.

But you know what? Fuck this. Fuck them. They took a fucking vote on the fate of your livelihood? You owe them nothing.

You’re overwhelmed, and angry, and confused, and you just can’t take it anymore. You want this guessing game to end. If they’re going to fire you, or punish you, or whatever, then you should just go in there and get it over with already. It has to hurt less than hearing them talk about you so callously.

You wait for a break in the conversation, and then ease open the kitchen door, stepping inside and doing your best to keep your expression neutral.

“Oh, there she is! Just the woman we wanted to see.” Namjoon looks up at you with a practiced smile, even though he’d just been rubbing his forehead the way he does when he’s stressed.

“Not for long,” Yoongi mutters, clutching his coffee mug a little too tightly as he takes a sip.

Your gaze flickers to him as quiet, seething anger settles in the pit of your stomach, a burning ache that doesn’t go away. He has the balls to joke about this, when your career is on the line? You’d have thought Mr. Underground Rapper would understand how hard you’ve fought to get here. Does he really feel nothing, sipping his coffee while you face the guillotine?

Namjoon shoots Yoongi a weary look, then comes over to greet you. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling? Better?” He cups your cheek, his eyes full of gentle concern.

You nearly flinch away from his touch. How dare he act so kind to you when they were just conspiring about whether you’ll keep your job?

You take a step back, out of range to be touched by any of them.

“What’s going on?” You ask them firmly, deciding not to hide your misgivings. Their eyes all seem to wander elsewhere in the room, Jungkook is staring at the counter in front of him like it’s suddenly become very interesting. Taehyung is looking up at the ceiling as if counting the tiles. Seokjin’s gaze is trained straight ahead into nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Cowards, all of them.

Namjoon takes the initiative and clears his throat. It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s wearing Ryan the Bear pajamas, but you give him your rapt attention. “So, we’ve been discussing things, and after what happened last night… well, it really cemented this for us. It made the decision that much easier.”

Did it? Did it really make it easier for them to fire you after seeing you break down and cry from using your safe word? You half debate throwing a punch at that handsome jaw of his. Might as well go out swinging.

He seems uncomfortable from the severity of your glare. Good, let him be uncomfortable. God knows you’ve put yourself in some uncomfortable positions for them.

“You’ve worked very hard for us since you were hired, and since today marks your official six month anniversary, we think it’s only fitting to end these six months on a good note.”

Oh, how poetic. Come on, just get on with it. Flowery words, especially insincere ones, won’t help you find another job. They won’t help keep you off the street while you struggle to make a living for yourself.

You stare up at him determinedly, your lips pursed as you steel yourself for the blow. You will not cry.

“We want to extend your time off.”

Wait, what?

“Starting tomorrow. It would have been your second day off for this month, but we’d like to extend that to a week off instead.”

They’re not firing you? They’re… rewarding you with vacation time? Doesn’t make sense. Your mind is reeling, trying to figure out the catch.

“You can wear whatever you want, do whatever you’d like.” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, seemingly thrown off by your wide eyed lack of response. “You’re not obligated to have sex with us…”

Oh. There it is. A sex ban.

Sure, they’ll give you a nice little vacation, free of worries and obligations. What, so they can all play with Secondaries, like Jin did?

Fuck, that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Jin probably told them how good it felt to fuck another cunt and now this is their way of telling you that they want to ‘see other people’, isn’t it?

This is worse than firing you outright. They’re killing you slowly, stabbing you in the gut to watch you bleed out, like a wounded animal in the desert.

Your vision is red, rage stemming from fear and insecurity building up inside of you faster than you can comprehend.

“So you’re suspending me?” Your voice is surprisingly calm, even to your own ears.

“I… I guess you could put it like that.” Namjoon says hesitantly.

“We just want to give you a break, jagiya,” Taehyung interjects, and he does look genuinely torn up about the change. But feelings are of no use, not now that things have come to this. The only protection you have left is your own pragmatism to rival theirs.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling much too exposed in your skimpy outfit. Damn Min Yoongi and his slutty sequin tops. You level your gaze at each of them in turn. “Don’t I get a say in this? I’m an independent contractor.”

Namjoon seems befuddled by your scorching glare, but he nods after a moment, seeming to come to his senses. He’s the one person here that’s best equipped to acquiesce to your sudden formalities. “Yes, of course. Uh… do you want to step into my office? We can work something out. Draw up a formal agreement, if you’d like.”

You see a flash in your mind of the last time you were in Namjoon’s office, not even a week ago, where you had him bent over his desk, cumming all over your fingers and dripping onto the ornate carpet.

You shake your head. They don’t want you to play with them for a week? Fine. You won’t give Namjoon the satisfaction of a home court advantage. “I’ll call my handler. We can discuss this in the lounge in an hour.” You don’t have a lawyer, but Yeji is the next best thing.

Namjoon seems a little surprised at your sudden switch to a cold and business-like demeanor, but he nods in agreement.

“Wonderful,” you look between the other boys, though most of them avoid your gaze. “I hope you all enjoy your breakfast.” You can’t resist hissing the words, and you hasten out of the room before your stone cold facade can crack.

You close the door behind you and lean heavily against it, trying to find your balance again after being thrown so off-kilter. What the fuck just happened?

“Well… that could have gone better.” You hear Yoongi sigh, and the others all break out into loud bickering again from behind the door. Honestly, they’re like children sometimes.

You scoff miserably at their immaturity and inability to see how seriously they just toyed with your life, and you wipe your eyes before the tears can fall, hurrying back to your room.

-------

That could’ve fucking gone better indeed.

You press your face into your hands, trying to stifle the fury and despair bubbling up inside your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Your hard work and years of dedication, all of your training, everything you’ve worked towards, becoming valuable and necessary so you’d never be cast away again, it’s all for nothing. You’ve still ended up in this position.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? Wait around for a week as they slowly lose interest in you? The very thought is agonizing. It tugs at all your buried fears and insecurities, watching them as they each slowly forget about you. Watching yourself become useless.

No. Stop it, you don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself when there’s work to be done. Time is ticking.

When you get overwhelmed in life, you’re supposed to ask for help. But you have very limited choices for who you can ask. You’re isolated and subjective in this case, so what you need right now are some outside opinions. Objective viewpoints and thoughts about the situation that aren’t stuck in the mire of emotional complications, and tainted by your own hellish visions of the worst possible outcome.

Yeji, your handler, would be your first person to consult. She’s probably the most professional woman you know, after yourself, and most importantly, she always has a plan for any situation. You pull out your ComGear and see that it’s still on Sachsa’s mysterious contact page. She could be a second opinion. That is, if it’s really Sachsa and not some network spy.

You shake away the thought. One thing at a time.

You send a brief message to Yeji, letting her know to come and see you as soon as possible.  You tack on that it’s kind of an emergency, and could she pick up some ice cream for you on the way, double fudge ripple.

She replies that she’ll be over in fifteen minutes, which gives you just enough time to change clothes and rehearse how to explain what happened.

You shed Min Yoongi's sequined strip of fabric without an ounce of remorse and stare at your closet in dismay. None of their outfits are comfortable, let alone respectable for a meeting. Frankly, your pajamas would offer more coverage.

You feel close to tears at the simple matter of choosing an outfit. This is ridiculous.

No. They may have control over what you do, but you can still rebel, at least in this small aspect of your life. You grab one of Jungkook's hoodies and a pair of leggings from Hobi, combining the outfits into what could be considered loungewear.

Once changed, you feel a bit more like yourself, and wait anxiously for your handler to arrive.

-------

Choi Yeji is an intimidating woman. She possesses the subtlety and sting of a viper, and isn’t afraid to say what she means. She’s never shown you any great lengths of emotion, even under stressful circumstances. So it doesn’t surprise you to see her calm and collected as she walks into your room.

“What happened?” She asks while you shut the door behind her, and she sets down the shopping bag of ice cream.

Her composure helps ease your frazzled brain, and you quickly explain the events of the past twenty four hours. Well, the events she needs to know, anyway. You were stressed at dinner, used your safeword, and now they seemingly think you’re broken and need to rest, but you suspect it’s an excuse for them to distance themselves from you.

“You think you’ve fallen out of their favor?” Yeji inquires, resting the tip of her spoon in her mouth. She claims desserts are her only vice, and had joined you in the ice cream, but still kept a professional distance and had eaten hers seated on your desk chair while you remained flopped on your bed. “Why? They’ve never sent in a single complaint about your service.”

You sigh in frustration. You know, or you at least suspect, that it has something to do with the… feelings that have come to your attention recently.

But the thought of sharing your romantic dalliances with Yeji is just plain awkward. Your relationship with her has always been business focused, monitoring your diet and exercise, your needs and leisure requests. You've never called her over to talk about your love life, or anything too personal for that matter. It’s not really in her job description.

She’s your handler, not your therapist.

But you know that you can't get around telling her the reason why things have been so tense in the house, it's inevitably going to come up. If she's representing you and backing you up during this meeting with Namjoon, it's in your best interest for her to know all the facts.

That still doesn't make it any easier to talk about. “I... think I might know why.” You admit, laying on your back, covering your face with your arm as you prepare to talk about your affairs.

Yeji levels you with a knowing look. “Did the chat room help you figure it out?”

You sit bolt upright. How the hell did she find out? 

Your brain struggles to provide an explanation in a vain attempt to cover your tracks, but Yeji eases you down from your silent panic with a wave of her hand.

“It’s alright,” she chuckles, a kind smile gracing her lips. “I was the only person alerted that you’d disconnected from the network and linked to a new one. I know all about the hidden network."

"You do?" You manage to utter, too astounded to say much else.

"Of course." Yeji inclines her head. "I used to work closely with Madame Guillaume, you know."

The tension dissipates from your body to make room for the curiosity that now overwhelms you. Guillaume? That was her last name? You only ever knew her as Madame.

Yeji seems amused at your dumbfounded expression. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

You don’t know what to say. Honestly at this point, so many shocking things have happened to you that a part of you isn’t even surprised anymore to hear that Yeji knows about the PhysCom dark web. Sure. Why not?

“So is it… real?” You ask, scooting closer towards the edge of the bed.

Yeji sets down her spoon along with the empty pint of ice cream. "Yes. It's most certainly real." She folds her hands in her lap, unaware of the chocolate that's gotten around her upper lip. "But that isn't to say it's not dangerous."

You can't help the snort of a laugh that comes out of you as she talks so seriously with chocolate on her face. She looks at you askance and you wordlessly hand a tissue to her, pointing at your own mouth. "You have something…"

She blinks rapidly. "Ah, apologies." She looks over to your vanity mirror and wipes off the smudges. There's a slight lilt to her voice when she speaks, a result of the fact that Yeji always uses English around you, despite Korean being her native tongue.

You’d mentioned once that it sometimes felt weird to see others’ lips move differently to what you were hearing them say, thanks to your auto-translation chip, and she’d apparently made a note of that. Yeji has used English with you ever since, despite your assurances. It amazes you that she always goes above and beyond to make sure you're comfortable, even when it comes to speaking

Your handler clears her throat to continue. "Anyway, as I was saying. The network does have security, but no measures are foolproof. Anything you send to them has a risk of being seen by other people."

You twist your lips to the side. “Like who?”

“Well, for one, their clients could easily catch a glimpse of the chat,” she notes. “Or the information could be leaked in a security breach. You know all the leading PhysCom networks have heard whispers about this dark web you’ve discovered, and many of them would be all too eager to dismantle it.”

You automatically shake your head. You don’t know why, but the idea of the people in that chat room getting discovered, or being punished for their little spark of camaraderie… it feels wrong. Totalitarian. “But they’re not harming anyone. It’s just a group chat.”

Yeji sighs. Her lips twitch as she considers her next words. “It may seem harmless, or indeed it may even be harmless,” she states calmly. “But the higher up that one is placed, the more scared one becomes of falling. People in the higher ranks of the industry may view the chat room as a threat. Like a… PhysCom mutiny.”

“What? But that’s ridiculous!” You huff out a laugh. “They can’t possibly think we could organize a union against them. We’re illegal workers. We have no rights in society, we can’t even physically see each other.”

Sure, the risk of rebellion would be understandable in companies that employ people in respectable positions. But sex workers? That’s like being worried that drug dealers will rebel against the crooked pharmacies that supply them.

PhysComs are nothing without networks to market them and provide for their basic needs. Your career is forever tied to your network, so each network only wants the best of the best. Your reputation reflects on them as a business. So, if you get fired by your clients… your network might let you go, too.

You sigh, trying to push away such troubling thoughts. “Besides, it’s not like the people in that chat room are the only people who can fill their positions.” Your face falls a little as you continue. “We’re replaceable.”

Yeji picks up on your change in tone. “You were telling me why you think things have changed?” She waits patiently for you to explain.

You hug your knees to your chest, your gaze falling to your comforter. “I think… some of my clients might have developed feelings for me.”

You wait in silence for a beat, not daring to look up.

“Is that all?” Yeji asks, as if you’d just informed her that the toilet paper had run out.

You scoff in bewilderment. “What do you mean ‘is that all’?” You demand, a little underwhelmed by her reaction. Does she just know everything?  “That’s a huge deal! Feelings are not a part of my job.”

Yeji tilts her head to the side, her eyes cast upward as though looking for the right words. “Perhaps. You might consider it an… occupational hazard,” she says with a kind look towards you. “You may not be selling your heart to those boys, but you are selling your body, which protects your heart fiercely. After enough time, letting them touch your body… it’s inevitable they might slip through and touch your heart.” She shrugs, taking a sip of the coffee to-go cup she always seems to have on hand.

You feel exasperated, like you’ve been building up all this hot air only to have it slowly leak out of your proverbial balloon. “You don’t have to get all… philosophical about it,” you grouse half-heartedly. Yeji merely chortles.

“The insecure always cast stones at those who speak the truth,” she hums into another sip of coffee, looking over the references she’d brought with her on her phone. “Now that I’m aware of this huge deal of yours, you may want to fill in any details you, ah… forgot to mention?” She gives you a look, and you groan inwardly.

But you comply, spilling all the information of your romantic dalliances since the moment Taehyung kissed you. Yeji doesn’t hold any judgement in her face, she merely nods, taking a few notes for herself, and asking an occasional clarifying question. You also feel compelled to add in what you overheard the boys talking about before you came into the kitchen.

“They said something about a vote… and that they would hold another one at the end of the week ‘if things don’t improve’ with me. Can you believe that?” You inhale, trying to quell the anger in you before it can bubble up again.

Yeji clicks her tongue, a cold clarity in her eyes as she adjusts her glasses. “So you believe Kim Namjoon is the instigator in all of this? He would try to dismiss you, even after you confided in him?”

“He’s their leader,” you say quietly, unable to conceal the hurt in your voice. “His loyalties are to them.”

Yeji doesn’t look at you with pity, but with sympathy. You’re grateful for the distinction. Pity makes you feel worthless, but sympathy makes you feel… heard. Understood. Not something you’re used to experiencing, but it’s still a nice feeling to have.

“Well,” Yeji checks her phone, standing up to leave. “It looks like we’re just about out of time. We’d best be getting downstairs.” 

You get up as well, tugging your clothes back into place. “So, you’ll help me change his mind?”

“I must remain impartial, in order to reach a satisfactory conclusion for both parties.” She gives you a look while organizing her papers and clipping them into her briefcase. “But I’ll do what I can to negotiate you out of this so-called vacation,” she says, her voice fueled with that same resolve that she’d shown you whenever she’d been fixated on getting you something that you requested.

“Yeji.” You hesitate, then walk over and take a hold of her arm. “Just please… don’t go easy on him.” You ask, giving her a meaningful look.

She pauses and looks at you for a moment, then finally lets out a sigh with a brief flutter of her eyes. Her job isn’t easy, but then again, neither is yours.

“Alright,” Her voice is reluctant, but resolute. She gives you a brief smile with a touch of fondness, and opens the door for you. “I’ll give him hell.”

-------

You wind and unwind the drawstring of your hoodie around your finger as Yeji organizes her paperwork. The tension in the air is palpable. Namjoon sits across from you both, now dressed for the day in business casual, a white t-shirt under a blazer and slacks. He must have an interview or a photoshoot today.

Your mind wanders briefly to what he usually does when he has a schedule, asks you for a quick blowjob before he leaves. You think of that warm smile he gives you after you swallow his cum, and the tenderness of his lips as he kisses your cheek before he heads out the door.

Lewd domesticity is how he phrased the kink during his interview.

“So, Mr. Kim Namjoon,” Yeji begins, snapping you out of your memories, her voice crisp in the otherwise silent room. She’s speaking in Korean again, to more clearly communicate with him. “You and my client are in a disagreement with regards to her services, is that correct?”

Namjoon frowns. “Not exactly. We just had a… simple misunderstanding this morning.”

Yeji gives him a thin smile. “Well, she called me here, which must mean that she feels the need for professional support concerning this issue,” she continues swiftly. “There are no laws governing Physical Companions, Mr. Kim, because they are not technically legal. A black market business. Therefore, I am the closest thing my client has to legal representation, and I wouldn’t call my lawyer about a ‘simple misunderstanding’, would you?”

Namjoon’s eyes flash with something almost like regret as he glances to you. His mouth opens and closes for a moment, then he briefly shakes his head, his gaze returning to Yeji. “No, I-I wouldn’t.”

“Right.” Yeji raps her collection of papers on the oak tabletop to align them, barely giving Namjoon a glance as she begins flicking through the stack. “Now, then. My client has told me that you wish to put her on suspension, is that correct?”

Namjoon winces. “I wouldn’t say that, uh, Ms. Choi,” he says, wringing his hands together. He looks nervous, his eyes flickering from you to Yeji, and back again. “Does our PhysCom need to be present for this meeting?” He asks her, flashing a smile that would be charming and amiable, if he didn’t look so tense.

Yeji meets his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes.”

“I… um, alright.” He purses his lips with a nod.

It’s weird. In all the time you’ve known him, Namjoon has always been unfazed and collected when it comes to business. You’ve never seen him look so flustered before. Since he’s putting you in this position, it’s satisfying, in a twisted sort of way, to see him uncomfortable.

He clears his throat. “In any case, myself and my members just wanted to give her a break. Simply extend her vacation time.”

Yeji looks to you, her expression almost bored. “Do you want a vacation?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t.” You throw a glare at Namjoon before returning your gaze to the houseplant on your left, inspecting each leaf as you try to stay calm. You know if you look for too long at him, you’ll start getting worked up again. Your anger and resentment is still there, bubbling just below the surface. You hope he knows how much he hurt you.

Yeji turns back to him, inclining her head, her tone that of explaining something simple to someone who should know better. “It is against her will, so it’s considered a suspension, Mr. Kim.” She slips her glasses on, reading over the fine print on the paperwork. “My client is given two days off each month, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Namjoon says. “One day off, every two weeks.”

Yeji raises an eyebrow. “Yet, you wish to suspend her for an entire week. That’s over three months worth of her regular vacation time. I must say, this appears to be much more than a simple extension, as you put it. I wonder why that would be?” She flips a page, skimming the words casually. “It says here that she’s received nothing but glowing reviews from all of you since she was hired six months ago.”

Namjoon shifts uncomfortably. You can tell that he’s trying to keep up his shields, but Yeji is a formidable foe with which to spar, able to find the smallest opening in an opponent’s armor and pierce through with the speed of a rapier.

“No particular reason.” Namjoon seems to settle on the answer after calculating his words.

“No reason?” Yeji’s eyes widen in mock surprise. “Mr. Kim,” She sets her papers on the table, looking at him expectantly. “I’m afraid I can’t allow this discussion to go any further unless you have a good reason for putting my client, your Primary PhysCom I might add, on suspension for an entire week.” She shakes her head with a mild shrug of indifference.

Namjoon tugs at the cuffs of his jacket. "Well, I think we can-"

Yeji interrupts him, her words slow and purposeful. “I think… it would reflect very poorly on you as a leader to make such drastic decisions,” Here, she gives a very brief smile that could be mistaken for politeness, if there was any warmth left in her eyes. “... for ‘no particular reason’. Don’t you agree, Mr. Kim?”

Damn. Hit him where it hurts, Yeji.

Namjoon’s mouth grows slack, his expression dumbfounded. You bite back a smile, eternally grateful for being assigned such a kickass handler. You make a note to request a bonus for her next paycheck.

But now Namjoon’s face has grown dark. His fingers are tented together, and he seems lost in a silent debate within his own mind. “I didn’t want to do this…” he mutters so quietly, you almost can’t make out the words.

He inhales sharply and sits up a little straighter, his composure regained. “Ms. Choi,” he begins. “I must admit, we do have some concerns about her performance.”

Your heart drops like a stone.

“Oh?” Yeji doesn’t look up at him, but starts scribbling on one of her papers. “What might those be?”

“We believe that she’s overworked, since, as you pointed out, she is our only Primary,” he explains in almost a monotone. “Her behavior has been emotional and unpredictable lately.”

At this, your gaze snaps to him, shocked. Why the fuck would he say that?

He looks down to the floor, as though ashamed, as he continues. “She’s kissed two of our members since yesterday, which is not on her list of services. She broke down crying last night during dinner. When we went to use another PhysCom, she had a meltdown. Started screaming at us.”

Your body feels numb and on fire all at once.

"We're concerned about her professionalism."

That motherfucker.

You leap to your feet, your body moving before you can think. Yeji pulls you back from physically assaulting him, but you strain against her grip like a wild animal. “You bastard!” You spit out the insult, hair falling in your face and venom in your voice, still huffing out ragged breaths as Yeji patiently calms you back into your seat.

Your hands clench so hard you dig marks into your palms. You’re shaking with unbridled rage at his betrayal. You didn't think it was possible to be so angry. Of all people, Namjoon knows exactly how dedicated you are to your work, even when you’re exhausted, how closely you stick to your professional boundaries, even when it hurts, how tirelessly you work to please all seven of them, even if it means being used over and over again without a moment to breathe. You’ve always given everything to your job.

Now he wants to turn around and say that you’ve been fucking slacking?

“You see what I mean,” Namjoon states calmly, though there’s something wavering in his eyes that doesn’t quite match the rest of his confident demeanor. He tries to meet your gaze, tries to get you to look at him, but you refuse, twisting your head away from him before you get yourself charged with murder on top of everything else.

Maybe it would be best for you to get fired. You’d rather live on the streets than be treated like this. Tears prick at your eyes but you blink them away. You refuse to cry in front of him. You won’t give him any more ammunition to use against you.

Yeji looks between you and Namjoon, her lips forming a thin line. “Kim Namjoon,” she addresses him, her voice cold. “Do you wish for my client to remain in this house?”

Namjoon seems surprised at the question, his eyebrows lifting. “Yes, of course.”

“Then, I think a recess is in order.” She stands up and brushes off some invisible lint from her skirt.

You stand up to join her, but she holds out a hand. “No. You two need to talk this out,” she says to you, then looks to Namjoon, staring him down. “I suggest you remember why we’re here, Mr. Kim.” After a moment of silence, she walks to the door. “I’ll be back in ten.”

With that, Yeji exits, and the two of you are left alone.

You cross your arms protectively around yourself, adamantly refusing to look at him. The silence stretches between you.

“Sweetheart-” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe. Proprieties be damned, you’ve had enough. “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, you fucking asshole. I have given everything for you and your members, okay? Don’t you fucking dare sit there and tell lies about me, to my face!” You shout, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You know if you keep talking your rage will melt into tears, and you cannot afford to cry in front of him. You simply won’t allow it.

“I know, I know,” Namjoon’s assurance overlaps the end of your sentence. He sighs. Waits a beat.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah! You’d better be.” You still don’t meet his eyes, the betrayal and confusion is just too much. On top of all that, you’ve never lashed out in anger at any of them like this. You still don’t regret shouting at him, but your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest in fear of repercussions. Did you make the situation worse? Is that even possible at this point?

“Look.” His voice is tentative, a little afraid. “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Then why the fuck did you say it?” You counter sharply.

“Because!” Now it’s his turn to shout, though he seems to regain himself much more quickly than you. “Because... I don’t know if that woman can be trusted,” he reiterates quietly, as if afraid she might hear him through the door.

Wait, what?

“Yeji?” You squint in utter disbelief. “Of course she can be trusted, what the fuck are you-”

“Not with this.” He sighs again, rakes a hand through his hair. “Listen, you have to trust me.”

You bark a laugh. “Trust you?”

He shakes his head, stopping your objections before you can list them. “This is serious. This is… bigger than either of us.”

His voice is the only thing that gives you pause. Just for a moment. He sounds… desperate. Scared.

You slowly look over to him, and his expression confirms your suspicions. Namjoon is fearful about something, his eyes wide with worry, his hair mussed from being tugged between his fingers. He looks completely different from before, and it has you reluctantly curious.

“What do you mean?” You let him keep talking, though you’re still taking his words with a grain of salt.

“I was… working on something. A better arrangement,” He begins, his eyes reaching out to you, then darting nervously around the room, as if he’s letting you in on his greatest secrets. “But I stumbled onto something bigger. I just… I need you to take some time off for right now, and I need you to trust me that it’s for the best.”

You level your gaze at him, silently weighing your options. He’s being awfully vague.

“What does my time off have to do with anything?” You ask, your suspicion coloring your tone.

“It’s necessary to test my theory properly. If I’m right, then...” He trails off, and you garner that his success would bring about something monumental.

You stare at him. You want to take his words as truth, but he completely undermined you in front of your handler. You can’t let him off the hook so easily. “How can I believe anything you say anymore? You just blew any trust I had in you.”

“I know,” he says, hanging his head. He chews on his lip, then takes a deep breath. “That’s why I’m willing to offer some… collateral.”

He reaches into his pocket and withdraws something small and shiny. “This.” He holds out the object to you, dangling from a short metal chain. “It’s the key to my studio.” His gaze bores into yours as you tentatively reach forward to take it. “The only key,” he adds gravely.

You examine the silver peace offering, and your eyes widen at the implications of such a gesture. His whole life is in that studio. All of his art, his collections, not to mention his computer. His music. His career.

It’s all sitting in the palm of your hand.

He reaches across the table and closes your hand around the key. “You can keep it until I’ve earned your trust again. Okay?” He gives you a brief, dimpled smile, as if to assure you, though sadness and worry still swim behind his eyes.

“Now, sweetheart. Please. I beg of you.” He takes your hand in both of his own, his worried eyes imploring you to trust him. “Please, will you take this vacation?”

[churchsplayground]

“Symbiotes are aggressive creatures, we are tasked with the duty of controlling them. Zachary is my host and is my job is to protect him while he does so… Maybe I’ll get it right this time.”

The Bishop Symbiote - LF Symbiotes

Bishop is only 33 years old, having been spawned at the life foundation (1986) as part of an anti-symbiote project. They are considered the youngest of the siblings, however, they all are the same age, except the Knight symbiote.

Bishop is referred to as He/Him currently, however, this is subjective and based only on their current host's gender. They do not retain any personal preferences.. or at least are not supposed to.

Bishop has a fixed height of 7′2″ as a humanoid, it does not change despite the host. -

Bishop lives at the LF with his siblings and parent symbiote in a special container just for him.

Bishop is a timid, shy symbiote often getting nervous around new people or even other symbiotes. He doesn’t often get out, mainly he lives at the LF in a special container and only comes out for ‘missions’. He’s very easy to pick on and is often the target of his siblings fun. Even going as far as getting nervous from his own host on a regular basis.

Bishop is very smitten with love for his host, Zachary, however, he sees no interest in his alien teammate and is lovestruck for Rook’s host, Noah. Now, it’s not like his host even knows that there’s a certain alien fawning over him, Bishop keeps himself hidden knowing it is very wrong for him to feel any way at all, it’s very possible neither he or his host recognize them as being capable to feel.

Bishop is very robotic in a sense when it comes to his feelings and personality however it is easy to cause extreme distress to him, and very easy to show his true feelings. Bishop, however, will not acknowledge this as his actual self and will correct himself if caught doing this or he catches himself doing this.

Bishop is very unaware of current day knowledge and doesn’t know what most things are. This including mannerisms/social cues, everyday items or activities, he, however, is a huge nerd in the things he knows, those being from his host or was taught at the LF. Bishop is the smartest symbiote in the project rivaling even the humans. Not bad for a supposedly ‘non-sentient alien goo pile’.

If you noticed Bishop wears a hood! He’s really self-conscious about just about everything about himself and completely refuses to take it off or leave it off. Knowing this his sibling will pull it off his head every time they can just to get him worked up.

He really, REALLY likes chocolate only getting a taste on one special occasion. Since it considered unnecessary to his current diet, which provides everything he needs he has not tasted it since. He can live on mush and rabbits alone, he’s been doing it for 33 years already, he doesn’t know what anything else tastes like.

Bishop’s hood does, in fact, have a name! It’s Bakemono or just “Mono” for short. Its a secret… don’t tell anyone! He thought it would be nice to give them a name since they are one of his bestest of friends, or rather… his only friend.  

Bishop takes surprisingly well to foreign symbiotes, he’s very unlike his siblings who would probably be going into attack mode he just stands there starring dumbly probably because he’s a pacifist or maybe because he just doesn’t know what to do besides calling his siblings over to get them.

Bishop and his host work as special intel gatherers for their team and the LF, often tasked with gathering info on people, groups or ‘enemy’ symbiotes since his skills set him up at being a wonderful spy.

Bishop is extremely protective of his host… for reasons.

Bonus: Bishop is one of the only symbiotes in his family that has five claws, besides Knight. Pawn, Rook, and his parent symbiote all have only 4 claws on each hand, assumingly some weird symbiote mutation in his family line.

Bonus: ...probably a weeb. Did you see what this loser named his hood?

Symbiote Specific Abilities:

Bishop is capable of turning semi-invisible with the ‘help’ of their hood, only semi-invisible because it’s easy to spot them if you’re actually looking for him otherwise they are not very noticeable.

Along with being able to blend in, they are able to mimic scents/smells or mask their own scent/smell. This is used in the special application of deterring animals such as guard dogs but does not have further use... unless you want a symbiote air freshener.

Bishop is able to change the shape of their hood in order to minorly mimic forms or (animals) some including, dogs, or large ominous creatures with the use of their hood patterning. The main application is as a scare tactic or animals or humans alike.

Minor - Bishop for some reason is deathly quiet when doing anything.

Minor - Semi self-protection: Their hood can be used as a thick layer to protect from sharp objects or bullets, however, this is limited and can cause pain to the host from the impact or multiple impacts.

Minor - The power of Shy!: Shy tall symbiote, he’ll capture your heart in a moment. Don’t act like you don’t love a shy alien trying not to get nervous and flustered around you. He can barely handle not getting nervous around his host.

Minor - “Weapons��: Much like his sibling he is able to form blades from himself, however, he does not use them seeing he is a pacifist. If he did, his weapon would range between long blades or even a scythe one. However, until he does decide to withdraw from his ways, that’s not happening. Ever.

Human Host - Zachary “Zack” Ohenn

Zack is 5’6” and of the latest is 24 years old.

Zachary has been working for LF for 3 years now, previously an engineer student intern, Zack was a transfer from an LF partnering organization sent to work on the project due to his skill set being needed. He’s the newest recruit to the team. -

Hims wears glasses, he’s as blind as a bat.

Zack is not Bishop’s first host, unlike the other LF symbiotes who’s previous hosts retired, Bishops host died during the project. Details are currently known to him as the LF refuses to release them or acknowledge the incident. Maybe it’s just a thing to spook him made up by his teammates, or maybe it’s true. Only Bishop can truly confirm or deny, it seems he refuses to think about it.

Zack works on the team as a co-leader to Noah handling most of the hard paperwork, he acts like a work office intern more than anything. But he honestly doesn’t mind doing the work, its totally worth it in the long run.

Zack may or maybe not have a crush on Noah.

Zack often can be seen trying to have convo’s with his symbiote, however, Bishop doesn’t often know what he is talking about. For these reasons, he tends to gush over Noah to him. Bishop just listens, making small remarks back, his host for some reason never seems to fully catch what he says.

Zack was told the symbiotes are not capable of human thinking or feeling, he, however, is starting to doubt this as he further talks to his symbiote. Is it possible LF has lied?

Zack is somewhat aware of the LF’s corruption but often questions some of the tasks they are set to do. Zack doesn’t want to be too nosy seeing what happened to Edan (the host Knight/Church was originally planned to be bonded to in the LF symbiote project). This is way too important for him to get kicked out now.

< Special Notes - LF issued Warnings:

This symbiote is considered to be under special watch due to previous host incidents.

This symbiote has been observed as being nonaggressive and has been seen preventing hosts from causing majorly bodily harm to other beings. However, seems to be cooperative when assisting others [LF symbiotes] in these actions.

Due to the [2016] symbiote incident. This symbiote is not to be taken off grounds unless instructed or permission is granted. >

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sorry for the long wait on these, I’ve been a little down lately! I’ll be posting the others soon enough. If I’m lucky enough to be blessed with time.

As always if you’d like to know more about them you can always ask here. I always answer, unless the ask gets eaten or I’m stumped for an answer.

Also ~ In the keep reading undercut, you can find more 2 more drawings such as his host and a full body ref bc he’s wearing a hood and it doesn’t show his patterns!!

Timestamp: January 12th, 2020 Related Links/Continuations: Siblings Ref - Pawn

- BISHOP FULL BODY REF 2020 -

Significance: What he looks like with no hood, bc I even have a hard time remembering for drawings. Please ignore the line it's killing me inside.

- LF SYM HOSTS GROUP PICTURE - 

Significance: A group drawing of all the LF symbiote hosts. This including Zack as a half drawing, meant to showcase all the hosts just having a group photo. This is included in all the symbiotes refs.

Left to Right: Zachary Ohenn (Bishop), Noah Keil (Rook), Amy Bergg (Pawn)

~ Thanks for reading ~

[whatifididsomethingnew]

Take Your Medication

I’m a college freshman in my second semester. I’ve been struggling with depression and ADHD for who knows how long, but I was diagnosed(i think? idk if it was official) in my freshman year of high school and given medication for it sometime in my senior year.

I didn’t take the medication very often. I started off strong, taking the ADHD medication especially to get me through classes and make sure the dosage lasted me to sixth period, my worst class at the time. But over the summer I stopped because I decided that the positive effects didn’t make up for the side effects: a lack of appetite and dry mouth.

Below the keep reading is my experience with mental illnesses and medication. It’s long. tl;dr If you have access to medication, take it. It helps. And make sure the dosage is right for you

 I’ve never been a bad student. Aside from failing algebra 2 in freshman year (ive never been good at “advanced” math, it was an IB class so even worse, and even better students agreed that the teacher was awful), I’ve gotten at worst 1-2 C’s per year. But since middle school I’ve found myself unable to pay attention, preferring to think about the book I want to read or the game I want to play or even just something else I started learning about. I figured out how to get by with finished homework and average tests. But I took about 6 AP tests in high school and only passed one, because I couldn’t study well enough to retain all the information I learned and forgot over the course, or pay attention to the exam to finish the multiple choice, or have enough foundation in the subject to write an essay that mattered at all.

This point in my life has almost certainly been my worst, depression-wise. I only live about twenty minutes away from my parents’ house, and I go home every weekend so I’m not just alone in my apartment for three days straight, but I’m still isolated during the week. My friends that are still in high school are busy with classes and extracurriculars and meeting with friends they still see everyday and very few of them have their own cars to drive up to visit me, and my friends in college are all busier than ever, all going to school anywhere from 15 minutes to like four hours away. My bad days are worse and happen more often and can span into bad weeks. I tend to write at best 1 page of notes after about 2 1/2 hours of classes a week, and drain my phone battery down to the sixties because I don't pay attention in lectures on subjects I’m not interested in. 

In high school I couldn’t wait for college, because I could choose my classes and the times and had the opportunity to make friends! But I realized I’m bad at making friends; I made one friend in kindergarten, when times were simpler, and all my lasting relationships (aside from my online friends, whom I treasure dearly) can be attributed to that one friendship. (I actually made a flowchart during class when another student was presenting, and I had the energy and motivation because I actually took my meds today!)

All this personal information about my Bad Times™ is to make you understand how much I needed to take my medication. But I don’t have classes everyday, so I didn’t think that taking ADHD meds everyday was worth it, and I (incorrectly) recalled that taking the depression meds didn’t help me enough to validate taking it everyday, instead only when it got really bad, but that plan didn’t work because when my depression is bad I don’t even have enough energy to text back or walk like four steps total to get my laptop, let alone walk to the bathroom and get the pills. 

So I didn’t take it, besides from when I worked my first 8-hour shifts at my first job. And those side-effects were extreme, because my body wasn’t used to these meds that were incredibly high in dosage because that’s what I need. I felt nauseous and dizzy enough to faint and went to the back room like four times an hour for a drink of water and it was still way less than I wanted. And I still didn’t learn my lesson about how the side-effects would get easier to handle if I took them more, but worse if I only took them on worst-case bases. I was thinking more in the moment about how bad I felt then, rather than about how I could feel better in the future if I pushed through.

I had a series of awful days, just last week. I cried several tears with no clear cause, only my own thoughts and boredom and depression, which means a lot in relation to me because I don’t cry. I watched Dear Evan Hansen and The Prom live, both with the original cast, and only cried a total of five tears at most, despite how these musicals and their subject matters are very dear to me. It was a bad week that came out of nowhere, nothing extraordinarily bad happened. I did the same thing as always, if not more. But still, it was a very bad week, because I was experiencing the heavy depression and it didn’t go away after I fell asleep. I don’t have classes on Wednesdays this semester; I have a lab on Mondays, and three lectures in a row on Tuesdays and Thursdays because I learned last semester that having enough leisure time to chill in my apartment for several hours between classes only makes going to the later class way more tedious. I usually get picked up by one of my parents on Thursdays while whichever of them it is drives home from work that day. That week I was lucky to have my Thursday classes cancelled, so I got picked up a day early. 

Being home is good for my health, adding it all up. It makes me a bit insecure about being independent, but fuck that I’m only 18 and I love my parents, I don’t need to be completely independent yet. Being home only improved when @pointlessoressential moved in with me; having someone so similar to me in regards of being content sitting and doing our own thing without the expectation to have something to Do™  all the time. It’s good for me, to have someone around me so I don’t get too isolated, but also not too overwhelmed. I’m usually pretty open with my mom, too, so being with her during the weekend and being able to talk with her or watch some easy TV together is good. I’ve never been very good at opening up to people; my main characterization with friends I’m not as close with is sarcasm and puns and whatever other humor to distract both of us from personal issues. I’ve been trying to get better, with help and reminders from the aforementioned bee and mom, as well as my best friend (who yes my meeting of and bonding with can indirectly be connected to that kindergarten friend, if you were wondering) who is much more skilled at telling me about her feelings than I am. But I’m trying. So I told my mom about how I had been having a bad week, once I got home.

My mom has dealt with depression her whole life, too. Most of her life she thought she also had anxiety, but when I was diagnosed with ADHD, the psychiatrist who had prescribed me the medications I take explained to both of us that ADHD in afab people (I'd say women bc my mom is cis but I'm nonbinary, so afab people) can be misdiagnosed as anxiety bc it’s different from what TV shows it to be, and the reactive anxiety (as opposed to constant, causeless anxiety from an anxiety disorder) is a symptom of ADHD. She’s dealt with the same issues all her life, so I go to her often when I hit the wall.

She told me to take the medication. I said I didn’t like the side-effects. She bought me mouthwash that helps dry mouth and a box of Rice Krispies Treats so I can eat something small but filling when I lose my appetite. She reminded me that the side-effects would improve if I took the medication more often. I am privileged in that I had the opportunity to see a doctor for my issues and be able to afford (even if barely) my medication, and I should take advantage of that instead of taking it for granted.

This is a long post, sharing my personal story about having mental illnesses, and how medication helps. It may not feel like it took effect, but then it’ll wear off and you’ll realize the difference. It’s better to feel stable, to feel “normal” for most of the day, than to get used to feeling awful. I took my medication this morning before class; I’ve taken about five hours to write this whole thing, due to having begun it before one lecture started, then continuing it during another while also listening to my professor review the first five chapters of Return of the King and discuss it with us. And now I’m in my apartment, on my laptop, switching between ending this PSA and checking on due dates and reviewing my calendar and just being 10 times more productive than I ever am.

I don’t know if anyone will need this advice. I don’t know how many will even click the read more. But this is a blog site, and this is something I’m trying to learn and have it remembered. It’s something I needed to put into words, and now it is.

[goldenqrow-blog]

ooo i got tagged in a thing! thank you! y’all know i never pass up an opportunity to talk abt myself lol

Tagged by @theladydrgn Rules: Tell 20 facts about yourself and tag 20 people.

Nickname: i have like 10 but here i go by Val

Biggest pet peeve: people who assume they know everything about your gender/sexuality/health/personality in general and judge you by that

Zodiac: Aquarius

Height: 5′6 (ish?)

Last movie you’ve watched: ... i don’t watch movies much uhhh i watched half of Order of the Phoenix when it was on TV the other night? the last movie i saw in theatres was Rogue One. yikes.

Last thing you googled: the intials YFA, to see if they stood for something offensive before i started using them to refer to my new fic project. wikipedia said they were fine.

Favorite musicians: we’d be here all day if i listed them all so here’s five: Watsky, Fall Out Boy, Regina Spektor, Lontalius, Imagine Dragons

Song stuck in your head: One of the Drunks by Panic! At the Disco

Other blogs:  i have four but they’re all dead. at various points in the past i also had three more. i’ve been on this site for eight. years.

Do you get asks: now and then, not super often, but i suck at holding a conversation so... maybe that’s not a bad thing

Amount of sleep: i usually sleep like 10-12 hours but on really bad days i can vary between like 3 hours and up to 14 sometimes. i also have a weird schedule where i cycle through being awake during the day and at night. i’m 90% sure it’s not healthy but u know.

Lucky numbers: 27 and 1125

What are you wearing: grey sweatpants and a black sweater and my hair in an extremely unattractive ponytail

Dream job: ??? i don’t even know. writing has always been the go to but i failed out of my creative writing degree so??

Dream trip: the Big Unrealistic Dream is to travel around all 50 US states, but that’s not gonna happen. i’d most like to visit California or Montana bc they’d be most useful for writing research (i have a lot of projects set in those two states) but getting more specific than that would be a hard decision.

Favorite food: most of it? but if i have to choose, mac and cheese.

Instruments you play: none. i wish my parents had made me take piano lessons like they wanted to as a kid but then i’d probably hate it by now. shrug.

Languages you speak: i’m only fluent in English. i learnt French, German, and Latin at various points in my education and i retained a bit of French, but everything else is gone.

Favorite song: currently, Iodine by I Set the Sea on Fire

Describe yourself with aesthetic stuff: the glow of a screen in darkness, stormy oceans against the legs of a water-blackened pier, a neon sign in the shape of a crucifix, a touch on the nape of your neck, fake glasses, a cracked mirror

i have no idea who to tag but! if you see this and you’d like to do it, say i tagged you! i’d love to read your answers!

[daechai]

Cras and Dahlia- FFXV Ocs

Here is some info of my OCs I’ve been working on haha

Cras: Hunter, formal imperial noble -Healer,can hack slightly -Sexuality: Gay (is in love with Charen-other oc) -Weapons: ‘Reaper’s Grip’ flaming scythe, obtained in battle with his greatest feared daemon. ‘Noceur’ dual swords, definition: one who does not sleep nor rest ‘Lethe’ Long ice sword, meaning: something to get you into oblivion/blissfull forgetfullness ‘Resfeber’ Lance given by Charen, definition: the restless race of a traveler’s heart when a journey begins, anxiety. -Loves: Charen, piercings, making salad, Dahlia (as a best friend), Later on: Prompto, Ignis, Noctis, and Gladiolus -Hobbies: Bothering people, writing, naming weapons (thus the meaning behind each one) -Traits: bit narcissistic, chicken when it comes to fighting alone, social, lazy at times, very confident but doesnt think before he acts, serious in times of healing Appearance: Pink short hair, slightly pale skin with light (almost grey) brown eyes, a mole instead of the traditional cras freckles, piercings (3 in both ears and one on lip) Tattoos: 1 of grima in his back bc he is a nerd/ some bands around his arms/ two sets of wings in his left hand (the one he writes with) that reminds him of Charen/ one he got in his left writst with Dahlia because of one particular mission, very tall, has good build. Usually wears a normal black shirt and some dark blue jeans with some belts and straps on the sides. He also wears light shoes like converse or boots when the weather/traveling needs it. Usually has a small sports backpack in which he keeps his medical supplies as well as his computer, food, and other essentials. He also has some chains and leader straps around his arms because apparently they look cool?? He has some scars along his back and behind his legs and a small one at the side of his neck (courtesy of Dahlia when they first met). Has Charen’s hunter dog tag instead of his because his family wouldnt bother finding him and Charen dissapeared.

Dahlia: Hunter, formal resident of Lucis -Tactitian, is a pretty good shot -Sexuality: Bisexual -Weapons: 'Seldom’ sniper, she believes that wishing for something gives you the opposite so in this case this will give her more shots than random hits. 'Nepenthe'dual guns, def: something that can make you forget grief or suffering 'Kairos’ ice sphear, def: the perfect, delicate, crucial moment (suggested by Cras, Dahlia loved it) 'Convivencia’ long sword (given by her family and named by Cras- they both share the sword at times in battle) Loves: Prompto (later on ooo), Cras (as a best friend), piercings, traveling, her weapons, and (later on) Ignis, Noctis, and Gladiolus Hobbies: writing (journal keeping), traveling, archery/shooting (helps her with aim) Traits: Strong, sometimes stern, usually angry with Cras,has a very lovely smile and laugh (even when she barely does it),a no-bs kind of person, enjoys jokes and can be sarcastic Appearance: Slightly dark/tan skin, brown dark hair and grey eyes, piercings (4 in both ears), Tattoos: one on her right wrist she got with Cras because of a particular mission, slightly shorter than average and fairly built, usually wears a dark grey tank top with black cargo pants (with lots of pockets) and belts on her waist and sides to keep her dual guns nearby, she also usually wears a long cammo green jacket with loads of pockets as well as a hoodie. When it’s cold she wears a snow blue jacket with a fuzzy hoodie (belonging to her father), she also wears black cammo boots usually or black boots with heels at times when travelling. Sometimes she styles her hair with braids and designs if in a good mood but usually pulls it up into a ponytail on missions (only lets her hair down when chilling). She has a few scars on her back, some in her arms (shoulders) one on her eyebrow and a very small one on her lip. She keeps her dog tag on her neck to at least have her family know where she was all along when died (she asked Cras to be the one to give her tag to her family and no one else).

Trivia: -Cras and Dahlia have a very close sibling like relationship, at first ordered at a mission together by Dave because they wouldnt stop fighting with each other and later becoming best friends. -Cras absolutely is in love with Charen and wont stop talking about him, nobody knows who he is or whether or not he exists except for Dahlia who has met him like twice. -Cras is a complete coward when fighting at night and usually complains to Dahlia since she stays far away to accurately snipe. -Dahlia at times in response shoots a few 'warning’ shots towards him when he keeps complaining about it. -The only time Cras every gets serious is when attending someone with medical needs of important issues about Charen. -Dahlia is very smart and good at tactics (including buying and handling stuff) while Cras is very smart in academics as well as computers. -Dahlia later develops a crush on prompto, usually sketching out the pictures he takes but her self esteem (especially about her family problems, partner from before, and such) keeps her away from him. -Cras loves to tease and bother Dahlia and she probably wants to kill him by now. -Dahlia doesnt mind seeing the guts of humans and creatures alike while Cras internally screams inside (usually gets over it when being a healer). -Cras owns a motorcycle and Dahlia usually hops in as well behind him. -Theyre both known as the notorious pair of hunters who wont stop bickering at each other during missions

Some backstory: When she was young,Dahlia actually fell into a coma for unexplainable reasons for a long period of time. When she came back to consciousness, her family was utterly worried and wouldnt let her be for days. Because of the medical bills, her family started struggling financially and she felt extremely guilty about it. She slowly kept falling deep and deeper into self hate and feeling like a burden thus escaping to be a hunter, at least she wouldn’t cause any trouble for her family and at times could send anonymous tips of money towards them. Sometimes she takes out a picture with her brothers just to stare at it, she keeps the one with her parents hidden as it hurts her too much. Later on her travels she fell in love with a fellow hunter and was even thinking about marriage when he disappeared, she kept his dog tag with her thinking he was dead until she reached Lestallum and found him trying to live another life, acting like he didn't know her and having another love, this made her hopelessly bitter and at times sad later on in her life.

Cras was actually a son of the imperial noble families, he hated his family and having escaped multiple times he stumbled across a bar where he met Charen. He quickly fell in love with him and it became mutual. He becomes a bad boy type, following Charen around getting piercings, having tattoos and stuff, he was about to do drugs when Charen stopped him. He worried he was a bad influence so he decided to start pushing him away. One day Charen decides to join this extremely dangerous band of hunters (which are infamous for doing anti empire acts of revelry). Cras offers to join but Charen seriously doesn’t want him to be in danger. One of the rules of the organization is that if he joins he must be sworn to secrecy and hiding, so he 'breaks up’ with Cras and runs away, only leaving him his number for his (now ex) boyfriend to contact him in extreme life and dead situations. Cras calls him/texts him all the time, sometimes Charen does respond most time he doesn’t. When he does, Cras attempts to hack and trace whatever he can to find him, this usually successfully happens every few months or so. Everytime Cras meets him they fight (Charen always trying to keep him away and Cras always trying to convince him to come with him). Their relationship is extremely complicated, Cras wants to start a family and spend his life with Charen while he thinks he is a threat to Cras’ existence.

A small scenario (after Cras and Dahlia meet the four guys and decide to join their party as the Prince’s hired retainers):

(Its dark at night and the group has decided to camp out, Cras gets a text from Charen and immediately starts to use his computer while typing furiously, after a few minutes he stands up and starts walking away into the shadows).

“Hey where is Cras going?” “He found Charen, just give him a few hours” Dahlia places her hands over her hips with a grim expression and yells towards Cras’ direction “I’ll be waiting here with the medical pack by the time you come back!” Noctis and the others at first looked extremely worried, their expressions slowly turning into confusion by Dahlia’s calm demeanor. After a few hours of them waiting while finishing a game of King’s knight and starting to help Ignis prepare dinner, Cras finally shows up. Stumbling from the shadows the four can’t help but wince as he walks towards the light. Showered with cuts all over his arms and legs, he seemed to be gripping his arm that was either strained or broken by the way it looked. Once he turned around to sit in front of Dahlia, they noticed that a giant rip was apparent on his back, showing a tattoo with an intricate wing design only to be covered by a deep gash, blood pouring out of it. Dahlia’s eyes only slightly widened as she went to get the medical bag and started patching him up. “Hey Cras, this is worse than usual…. what did you tell him this time?…” she almost whispers with a grim expression as she starts covering his wounds. Cras gave a sad wry grin as he was being patched up, he gave a half hearted chuckle as he responded “I asked him this time to marry me.”