#and I just want to know that if I can't work I'll have the money to pay bills and thats why I don't ever buy myself anything

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/suggestive, dry humping, mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris celebrate with a joint on the beach after selling all your product

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

You and Chris had successfully moved all your product in three days, a personal record for you with twelve kilos. The two of you stood in your living room, staring into the duffle bag full of cash sitting on your coffee table after the final sale.

"Holy shit, ma," Chris whispered, staring wide-eyed at the several stacks of hundreds before his gaze flicked up to you. "I know. It never gets old," you mumbled, picking up a stack of cash and holding it to your nose. You deeply inhaled, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. You were so infatuated with everything about money. It was almost like being reunited with an old lover every time you made it all back.

You couldn't deny that you wouldn't have been able to do it without Chris. He'd spent more hours with you, bagging up product and helping you move it than he'd spent sleeping the past three days. You admired his charming demeanor and his strong work ethic, you knew he could make you a lot of profit, and you wanted to keep him happy.

You started separating out the cash, putting your portion in one pile and Chris' in another. Once you'd finished divvying it up, you motioned towards the pile of money nearest Chris. "Here. Here's your cut."

"Ma.." Chris started to say. "What?" You asked without looking up at him. "You gave me half," Chris quietly answered, wondering if it was a mistake. "You do good work, Chris. I want to keep doing business with you. You deserve half," you told him, your gaze still fixed on the money in front or you.

"Oh, my god, ma!" Chris exclaimed, his face lighting up as he wrapped his arms around you. "I don't do shit like this often, so don't get used to it," you replied, not reciprocating his hug, but it was hard for you to conceal your grin with Chris beaming with excitement.

"Thank you, ma. I can't believe you already gave me a raise. We should go celebrate!" Chris declared. "And do what?" You inquired, giving him a perplexed look, worried that he was going to suggest a crowded place with loud music.

"I was thinking of something low-key. Let's go smoke a joint on the beach or something. I mean, you don't have to smoke, but the offer's open, and it is a special occasion," Chris rambled. You contemplated it for a moment. After all, why not celebrate? The two of you were making more money than you ever had in your life, and it was just the beginning. Plus, it was a chance to bond with your business partner.

"I'll get us home safe. Take the night off. Leave your gun at home," Chris said, looking into your eyes. "Chris, what if something bad happens? What if I need it?" You wondered with an urgency in your voice. "You've got me. If anyone messes with you, I'll protect you," Chris told you, taking a step closer to you and looking you in the eye.

The way he said it made you feel safe, like he really meant it. It was at that moment that you decided maybe you could trust him. Maybe you had to. Maybe you'd already let him in too much. After a few minutes of deliberation and a few more convincing words from Chris, you agreed. "Fine," you responded after taking a deep breath.

You weren't typically the spontaneous type, but there was something about Chris that brought out that side of you, and in some ways, you liked that. The two of you drove out to the beach, listening to Chris' favorite Arctic Monkeys album on the way there.

Tonight, you weren't a dealer. You weren't a hustler, and you weren't on guard. You were just a human being. Now, the two of you were side-by-side on the shore under a blanket of stars as the sound of the waves crashing echoed in your ears, enjoying the simple pleasures life had to offer.

You kicked off your shoes, feeling the sand beneath your feet. You hesitantly glanced down at the cherry and the smoke that slowly drifted into the air as Chris passed you the joint. "C'mon, ma. It'll be fun. Let loose for a bit," Chris urged you.

You didn't like to feel out of control. You knew getting high could be dangerous for you. You couldn't let your guard down. You couldn't let yourself slip up, admit your growing feelings for Chris, and possibly ruin your business relationship with him.

All the possibilities of all the bad things that could happen if you let yourself fully relax ran through your mind, and for a second, you thought, so what? "Fine," you sighed, taking it from him.

You held it up to your lips, the smoke stinging your lungs as you took a slow, long drag before exhaling with a cough. The dopamine flooded your system immediately, leaving you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was nice to have a night off from being a dealer and instead finding yourself on the other end as a consumer. It was nice to let go of the rigidity of your lifestyle and finally get to just be.

You took another puff, allowing yourself to sink into the sensation. You gave Chris back his weed. "How do you feel?" He wondered. "I feel high," you murmured, a smile spreading across your lips and your eyelids growing heavy. He grinned back at you, admiring how cute you looked in the moonlight, the light breeze gently catching your hair.

Chris pulled from the joint, inhaling smoke into his lungs. The two of you sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company and listening to the soothing sound of the ocean's tide being pulled by the full moon that illuminated everything around you.

"Daisy broke up with me last night," Chris quietly chimed in, breaking the silence between you. "Oh, shit. Chris. I'm so sorry. What happened?" You replied in a soft, sympathetic voice. "What always happens, ma," Chris answered you, his gaze fixed on his ring that he was fiddling with.

"I didn't mean to make you tell her before you were ready," you leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on his back, feeling somewhat guilty for their relationship ending. "It's alright, ma. You were right. She was going to leave anyway. I should have told her sooner. It's for the best," Chris said in a solemn tone before taking another hit.

You didn't know what to say, and so you didn't say anything, fearing you'd make it worse if you opened your mouth in your current state of mind. You just sat next to him quietly, passing the joint back and forth, gently running your fingernails in a repetitive pattern up and down his back. He relaxed into your soothing touch.

"Ma, that feels so good," he said in a soft voice. A quiet whimper escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut as you continued to caress him. You inched a bit closer to him and rested your head against his.

There was a small, sick part of him that was relieved. He could indulge in his late night fantasies about you and let his gaze linger on you without feeling guilty about it.

The two of you glanced up at each other simultaneously, and for a moment, the sexual tension between the two of you was undeniable. The look you each gave each other of burning desire didn't need words to be expressed and understood. A silent agreement was made.

Without thinking through what you were about to do, you just followed where temptation led you. You shifted, swinging your leg around Chris and straddling him. You stared deeply into his blue eyes, placing a hand on either side of his face as he sat quietly, gazing at you as his heart began to thrum in his chest. Your nose brushed against his as you leaned in, and the two of you each hesitated for a second, acknowledging that once you opened this door, it couldn't be closed.

You savored the moment before the kiss, the anticipation, and the way Chris' warm, shallow breath felt against your lips right before giving in. Not a single force on Earth could interfere with the magnetic pull, drawing the two of you together.

The kiss was tender at first, your soft lip grazing his, and it slowly grew deeper and more passionate as your tongue slipped into his mouth. Your trembling hands traveled to his chest as you stabilized yourself.

You could feel his hardening cock pressing against the front of your jeans, and you just couldn't help yourself. You found yourself rolling your hips forward and shifting your weight onto his lap, earning a sensual moan from Chris that vibrated against your lips.

You continued grinding against his bulge, and Chris' curious hands found their way to your waist, the half-smoked joint still wedged between two of his fingers. He guided your hips as you continued your movements, the added pressure feeling incredible every time his hard cock rubbed up against the seam of your jeans, stimulating your swollen clit.

You shuddered at the sensation, melting into the boy beneath you that you hadn't been able to keep your mind off of. You loved the feeling of kissing him, his pillow-soft lips, his velvet-like tongue, and the soft hums he elicited as you practically rode him with your clothes on.

"Can't resist me, can you, ma?" Chris rasped in a low voice as he pulled away from the kiss, reaching up to caress your cheek with his free hand. You firmly grabbed his wrist and started gently suckling on the tips of his fingers. "Oh, shit," he whispered, watching your mouth as you slid down to his knuckles, feeling the cool metal of his rings against your lips.

You could feel his cock jerk underneath you as you repeated this motion, alternating between a few of his long, slender digits, pressing your body weight against his dick. He loved every second of it. "Good girl," he quietly praised you as he imagined you sucking on something else. His words sent an electric surge straight to your clit, and you could feel the wetness between your legs that was likely seeping through your clothing by now.

Chris felt the heat from the joint as it widdled down towards the end of the paper, but he was too wrapped in you to care if it burned him. You brought your behavior to a stop, a wave of embarrassment overcoming you as you reflected on how impulsively you'd acted and how pathetic you probably looked humping Chris like a dog in heat after just a few puffs of weed.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed after pulling Chris' finger out from behind your lips and climbing off of his lap. "I don't know why I just did that," you muttered, completely humiiated as you retreated back to your spot in the sand. Chris stayed put for a moment, looking at you wide-eyed with his hard cock straining against his pants.

"Fuck, ma. I don't know why you stopped," Chris whispered, still processing what had just happened. "That was so inappropriate of me. I am so sorry," you mumbled with your face hiding in your hands.

"Why? Because I've been single for less than twenty-four hours or because you're kind of my boss?" Chris chuckled after taking a final hit of the joint and putting it out in the sand. You laughed with your embarrassed expression still buried in your palms.

"Either way, ma. I really liked it," Chris replied, nudging you in the arm as a smile spread across his lips. You picked your head up to finally look at him, face flushed and finding it rather hard to maintain eye contact. You wanted to kiss him again, but it felt like the moment had passed, and you were still embarrassed about how you'd thrown yourself at him.

Suddenly, you felt violently high, your heart beating in your ears and your head pounding. "I don't feel very good," you mumbled under your breath. "Here, give me your keys. Let's get you home," Chris said, springing into action once he recognized that you were most likely greening out.

He picked you up and carried you across the beach back to the car as you incoherently babbled about how sorry you were for crossing the line. He hushed you and assured you that you didn't have anything to apologize for.

He helped you into the car, and as soon as he got into the driver seat, you were softly snoring with your head resting against the window. Chris kept the music at a low volume and drove carefully as to not wake you. Once he pulled into your driveway, you began to stir. He reached over and caressed the back of your hand with his thumb.

"We're here, ma," he softly told you. "Here? Where?" You asked, still feeling heavily intoxicated. "Your house, ma," Chris giggled, shutting off the car and getting out so that he could help you into your place.

"Chris, that was so nice. You didn't have to take me home," you grumbled to him as he guided you through your front door. "You're right. I should have left you stoned on the beach by yourself," he laughed, knowing that of course he had to take you home, and just because he knew he had to, didn't mean that it was an inconvenience at all.

Chris carried you up your stairs and set you down softly on your bed. "Goodnight, ma. I hope you get some rest. I'm sorry for pressuring you into smoking," he said, shaking his head and feeling guilty for the state you were in.

"I chose to smoke, Chris. You couldn't pressure me into anything if you wanted to," you mumbled, slipping out of your jeans until you were in just a t-shirt and your underwear. Chris diverted his gaze as you started to undress, and he made his way towards your bedroom door to give you privacy.

"Where are you going?" You asked him as he started to close the door behind him. "I'll just walk to Dais -" he started to say, but then he remembered that walking to Daisy's wasn't an option anymore. "I'll just call an Uber, ma. Don't worry about me."

"Chris," you whined, reaching for him like a toddler asking to be picked up as you laid helplessly on your bed. "What is it, ma?" Chris asked, poking his head back into your bedroom. "What if you stayed the night here?" You wondered. "I mean, yeah, sure. If you're offering. I wouldn't mind crashing on your couch. It would save me a trip," he responded.

"No. I want you to sleep right here," you mumbled, patting the empty side of the bed beside you with a playful smile on your face. Chris raised an eyebrow, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. He could already tell what you were about to say next based on your body language.

"Please, Chris. I want you to fuck me," you begged him, biting your lip. "Ma, you're really messed up. I can't take advantage of that," Chris responded, taking a seat beside you on your bed and choosing his words carefully because he didn't want you to think he was uninterested. He just didn't want your first time to happen under these circumstances.

"Please. I need you," you replied, your voice saturated with lust as you started to take off your panties. "Woah! Hey," Chris exclaimed, stopping you from slipping them off. "Not like this, ma. If you still want to when you're sober, we can, but not when you can barely stand on your own. I'll lay in bed with you if all we're doing is sleeping."

"Okay. We can just sleep. I just want you here next to me," you whined, clutching your pillow in your arms and pulling it into your chest. "Alright, ma. But no funny business. Let's get you some pants," Chris replied, picking up a pair of sweatpants off of your floor and tossing them to you.

You slipped them on and curled up under your blanket. Chris crawled into bed beside you after shutting off your light. He pulled you close and kissed you on the forehead. "Night, ma," Chris whispered before closing his eyes. A few minutes later, he heard the sound of your soft snoring as you drifted off to sleep beside him.

When he was certain you were out, he slipped out of your sheets, snuck downstairs, and made his way out the door. As he waited out front for his uber, lighting up a joint, he smiled to himself, reflecting on the night and how boldly you'd climbed onto his lap and started making out with him.

He hoped that you were developing feelings for him the same way he was for you and that it wasn't just a purely lustful gesture earlier, but he couldn't be sure. Hell, he couldn't even be sure that you'd remember any of it in the morning, which was part of the reason he didn't want to be in your bed when you woke up.

[lady-belz]

D-Day, Good Day: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Min Yoongi x Female Reader

Rating: Mature

Prompt: Him: You look good in my hoodie. || You: You know where else I'd look good? || Him: My bed.

Author Note: And so endeth "Dirty Shorts" - unless I think of some new ones.

Story notes: No idea where this was going. I got cavities. Yoongi's blunt as hell.

Is it possible to go through an entire day with a string of continuous bad luck?

If someone had asked you that question just now, you'd answer with a firm and decisive yes.

First – your alarm didn't go off that morning. By the time you woke, you were already an hour late for work.

Second – you forgot to charge your phone the night before and found a dead phone on your night table.

Third – by the time you showered, dressed and got ready for the day ahead, you found 10 phone calls on your home answering machine... all from your very angry boss.

Fourth – your car had 2 flat tires, forcing you to call a cab to get to work.

By the time you made it in, you were 3 and a half hours late.

Needless to say, everyone could hear your boss yelling at you through her closed office door. That was embarrassing.

As if your day couldn't get any worse, the coffee machine in the cafeteria decided to break down and explode coffee all over you, your computer crashed while you were working on an important design for an upcoming fashion show and you got a text message from your long-term boyfriend he was breaking up with you to date your best friend.

By them time you left work, you were ready to just give up and cry.

That was before you realized you didn't have any more money for a cab and the last bus already left.

It was going to be a long walk home.

An hour into your walk, the sky got steadily darker and you stopped dead with a sigh of absolute regret. You stared upwards as the first drops of rain started to fall. No coat, no umbrella.

“Why does the world hate me today?” you shouted out as the rain came down in freezing cold sheets.

You ran until you could duck under an awning in front of restaurant and with freezing cold hands retrieved your phone. Luckily there was enough battery left to make a phone call and you didn't hesitate to call the first person in your pinned contacts list.

“Please answer, please answer.” you mumbled over and over again as the phone continuously rang. You were about to give up at the twelfth ring when you heard the click.

“Hello.” came the deeply familiar voice.

“Can you pick me up?” you muttered, teeth chattering.

“I can't right now, I'm in the middle of a session.”

“Please, Yoongi!” you nearly sobbed in desperation, tears forming in your eyes. “Please?” you whispered.

There was silence for a long moment and you almost thought you got disconnected. But he must have heard something in your voice. “Where are you?”

You closed your eyes and burst into tears, unable to say a word.

“I'm coming, love. I have your location. Just stay there.”

You could only nod even though he couldn't see you as he disconnected the call.

By the time he got to you, you were curled up against the wall beside the restaurant, soaking wet and unable to feel any part of your body.

“Y/n! Oh my god!” you heard him call out to you. You couldn't feel him draping his jacket around you, nor scooping you up into his arms. He got you into his car and belted in before he went around to the driver's side, immediately turning up the heat as he grabbed your hands to rub some feeling back into them.

“Thanks, Yoongi.” you whispered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I'm going to want to hear about this later, but I need to get you warmed up first.” he mumbled, turning to put the car in gear. He pulled away from the restaurant as the warmth finally penetrated your cold extremities.

His apartment was closer so he headed there immediately. You were more awake by the time you got to his door but he hustled you into his bathroom, turning on the shower.

“You hop in there and get warm immediately. I'll leave some clothes on my bed for you to change into. I'm going to go make you some soup. I don't want you getting sick.” he ordered. You could only nod, waiting until he closed the door after leaving before getting out of your wet clothing.

You spent nearly 45 minutes in the shower until you felt warm and human again, and another 15 cleaning yourself up.

As promised, he had left a pair of his socks, sweatpants and hoodie on his bed. The sweatpants were slightly big on you but they were warm and that's all you cared about. You were surprised by the hoodie. It was his favorite, a black smiley face hoodie you saw him wear frequently.

Warm and dry, you left his bedroom, following the smells of food to the kitchen. He was at the stove stirring something in a sauce pan. He glanced up at you when he saw you.

“Feeling better?” he asked as you sat at the island.

“Yeah, thanks for the clothes. And thanks for picking me up. I'm sorry for pulling you away from work.”

“What happened today?” he wondered, pouring some soup into a mug before passing it to you. You took a small sip, relishing the taste. As he cleaned up, you told him everything that happened to you that day.

“Just one disaster after another. Like who did I piss off in a past life?” you complained. He had to turn away so you couldn't see him chuckling at you. “Are you laughing?”

“No!” he squeaked out, still not looking at you.

“You're laughing at me!” you complained, slapping his shoulder. He shook his head as he burst into full on laughter. “I hate you.” you complained, pouting and crossing your arms.

“Aw, come on. You don't hate me.” he smiled, looping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a warm hug.

“Sadly, I don't hate you.” you mumbled against his chest, relishing the feeling of his arms around you. You didn't want to admit to yourself that you may have had a crush on him all these years.

He drew back to look at you. “Hm... you look good in my hoodie by the way.”

“I do?” You stepped fully out of his arms and did a little twirl.

“You do.” he replied.

“Do you know where else I'd look good?” you asked.

“My bed.”

“In front of the TV with a – wait, what?” you stammered, his words finally penetrating your brain.

“Preferably naked beneath me, but we can work on that.” he shrugged. You stared at him in shock and not a little bit of desire.

“Yoongi!”

“What?”

“You can't say things like that!”

“Why not?”

“Because it's not true!”

“Who says?” he returned.

“What?”

“I'm in love with you.” he stated, making your jaw drop. One thing about Yoongi, he was always blunt and he never lies.

“I-I- how?” you exclaimed.

“No idea. Just looked at you one day and said that's the girl I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Oh my god!” You were stunned. He snagged you by the pocket of his hoodie and pulled you forward until you were back in his arms.

“Do you feel the same for me?” he asked.

“I-I mean I do, but-”

“Good.”

And then he kissed you, not even waiting until you could unscramble your brain as his tongue made a home in your mouth.

Turned out to be a good day after all.

-End- Read other shorts in this series: Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

[ryllen]

something i promised on my kofi 6 months ago... 🫠

[mokeonn]

I think something that is REALLY fun about having a small animal that needs to live in a habitat is making it a hobby to try to make the best possible habitat for them. Like there's nothing more fun than planning and executing different ways create paradise for an animal with a brain no larger than a peanut.

[electrivolt]

"It's really not that big of a deal..." At least to Volkner, it doesn't look like it— most people in this line of business have at least a decent enough grasp on data to get by, if anything to avoid making data collection contracts even more of a pain by wasting time on someone's chat log. It is generally better to avoid risking serious injury or your life on that, after all.

While Roark is quiet thinking, Volkner turns his attention back to the screen. There's certainly more files than he expected, and he briefly wonders just how much money did Roark lose on just selling at whatever price he could find— considering what good data usually goes for, pocket change must be more literal than he expected... he really needs to fix this, the thought alone is irking him, at the very least. Well, his job will at least be easier if he starts by separating it by affiliation, different companies using different encoding and all...

"Yeah, I've seen programs like that, they tend to make things easier if you got someone on the other end—" admittedly, Volkner was not paying enough attention to put together where this was going to go, enough to stop and look up and at Roark again, blinking. "What?" He hopes he doesn't sound annoyed or worse, angry— the thought just caught him that much by surprise, huh? "... I'll... think about it while I work on this." It's all that really comes to mind in the moment good enough to say out loud.

( of all the people to ask to be an operator... )

Still, as absurd as it may have sounded, it's a question that weighs on his mind long into the night spent awake watching strings of numbers and letters across the screen. Volkner is hardly known for caring about others, let alone for being a social pilot, not being able to recall a single time he's ever really requested anyone as an operator— and Roark wants him to fulfill the job, however temporary it may be? He's hardly qualified for half of it, he just figured out how to keep himself alive without outside information and some decoding skills! He'd come to regret it very quickly after one or two sorties... which maybe would drive Volkner's point home and get him to leave him alone. Maybe that'll turn out to be a blessing in disguise, after all.

( he does have a debt to repay, though, whether roark is willing to accept it or not... )

Damn it, this would be a good way to start working towards repayment while he's bedridden for who knows how long, and if anything that would at least help him pay it all back sooner... no matter his own feelings regarding the offer, when he looks at it logically, it does make sense, doesn't it? ... And he has to admit it, he can think of many mercs who would be a lot worse to assist and speak to than Roark. If anything, he can at least be sure that Roark wouldn't be poking at him in all the wrong ways for being stuck in this pathetic state when he should be out there, in his own AC, free to come and go, not held back by anything.

( he doesn't really want to admit that begrudgingly, he is at least a little concerned for him. roark has been putting so much more care and concern into him than volkner ever expected, and now he has questions. he can't really stop thinking about it, whether he likes it or not. )

This really shouldn't be so complicated.

The next day comes around, Volkner having at least managed to scoot the laptop over just enough to have the space to sleep, and eventually, Roark comes around again, just as he expected.

"Hey— still need to work on some of the data, but I got things running to generally decode anything you come back with, I can work on starting to sell some of the stuff later while everything runs." The easy stuff ( for him, at least— ) is out of the way first, and then Volkner half sighs, half groans. He can't really leave him hanging forever, despite his own reservations and admittedly, his pride getting in the way at least a little. "... And I thought about it. I guess... I guess I can at least give your request a try and be your operator for a while— but don't expect me to be keeping track of everything around you, okay? I'm doing this to pay you back for your rescue efforts, nothing else." Volkner is very quick to add that last part after his half annoyed agreement— Roark is for some undecipherable reason attached enough to him to give him more reasons to try and get closer when Volkner never asked that in the first place. This is just temporary anyways, before they both know it Volkner will be back on his feet, and then he will leave. Just as it's always been, right?

Roark looks like a hopeful puppy when Volkner confirms he's capable—"Really?! You mean it? That's great to hear! I can't tell you how much data I used to sell off for pennies just because I couldn't get anything out of it..." Volkner sure was a smart guy, helpful, too! Well, helpful when bedridden with immobilizing injuries and all... that was besides the point right now, though. He's as happy as a clam, and if it weren't for the excessive bandages holding his shoulder in place, Roark would have smothered Volkner by now.

At the question though, Roark pauses, brows raised. "Something else? Um..."

( what could he do..? preferably, something that could benefit both of them, but really, he just wanted to give volkner the ability to just pay back for repairs before he has to even pick up sorties the day he's healed up enough to pilot again... )

Burgundy falls onto his laptop, the briefcase-like shell littered with additional covers for the various network and data ports that allow it to be able to talk to a variety of AC generations. Technically speaking, as long as there's some network for mercenaries to hop onto, it's possible to be able to host a connection to STONE EDGE, even from here. "There's an application on there that lets you pick up the data my AC is picking up while I'm out on the field. Telemetry data, comms, all that stuff. I usually have it running in the core so I can save off stuff I pick up out of sorties. But... I've never actually had anyone actually monitor this stuff." Right, the assumption was that someone else was comfortably far away from the AC looking at this data and giving information, and most importantly, deciphering data much faster than he could.

"Actually, you could get some funds being my operator for a little while. Do you want to take that up? Then all the data I pick up is fair game and you don't have to wait for me to come back to make some bank," Roark offers, "—and, you could have someone to talk to." Not that he's ever seen him socialize willingly, but anyway. "I'm probably gonna chill out for the night, so you have all the time you need to mess with what's here already. No need to rush on an answer, though. Operator work isn't the easiest unless you like staring at numbers."

[thedrotter]

a once in a lifetime miracle: oc art!! this is Shiva.

doodles from a month or so, but i cant really draw properly right now. but i wanted to do something meanwhile so i colored these :33

[mypeggableromance]

.

[mimiyanna]

Chat I am so fucking sleepy and worn down by life and work and the need to always, always, be giving so much effort... I think I may just pass away. It's too much...

[momentokori]

.

[adore-gregor]

🙄🫠

[anaalnathrakhs]

i <3 feeling like i'm literally always making the wrong choice

[katamarei]

I just got tickets to see my favorite band in the world (Justice) live and liiiiterally all I can think about is how I shouldn't have done it 😭

[lycorisicecream]

Rework of an OC of mine, all that's really different is that I used green instead of red for the eye

[running-in-the-dark]

okay but seriously the way everyone always focuses on me finally getting a job as if that's the ultimate end goal of life and there's nothing else that matters at all is making me feel like. if I can't do that. what is left.

like it's.. not that unlikely that no matter how hard I try I'll never be able to work full time (or even part time, who knows at this point honestly), and it makes me feel like - okay so then I just need to stop existing I guess

[thelovelyblark-barg]

I'm so tired of having a body that has never liked me

the corkscrewing spine, the tonsils the constant size of ping pong balls, the cyclical vomiting syndrome, the chronic migraines, the periods that go for anywhere from 3 weeks to 3 months,

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Oh haha yeah I'm definitely feeling better <- he is not talking to people