#bug journal entry

[abugsjournal]

A Cowboy's Cup of Coffee ☕

Arthur Morgan x male reader

Summary: After a sweet apology from Arthur your budding friendship grows! You have plans to meet Arthur outside of work for the first time, but must deal with some drama in your café first.

Content Warning: Mention of drinking, men being creepy, threats of violence.

Chapter 2: Headaches

Arthur's POV

It's been about a week since your social blunder at the café. You've been offering to go on hunting trips to avoid going into town. You would rather come face to face with a bear than make a fool of yourself in front of Y/N again. You kick yourself for being worried about his opinion of you in the first place. That shouldn't matter, why are you even thinking about it?

Luckily, you don't encounter any bears, but today's hunting trip with Charles was the most successful one you've had since you settled down in this spot. Everyone back at camp was elated. So elated that as the hearty deer stew was being served, bottles of whiskey and rum were opened and passed around the campfire with equal enthusiasm. You remember the women's tipsy giggles, and the men getting a little loud and rowdy, but not much else.

As you open your eyes you feel your head screaming in pain. You roll out of your cot, swallowing and forcing the rising bile back into your stomach. The morning light is blinding, you squint and shield your eyes as you exit your text. As your vision adjusts you can see everyone else feels just as miserable. There's a collective groan as the gang members each start working on their tasks for the day. You know you'll be absolutely useless until you nurse this headache, but the smell of the coffee over the fire almost makes you gag. The only thing you think you could stomach is the coffee from the café in town. You sigh, weighing your options, and decide you would do anything to make your head stop pounding, even if it means risking an awkward conversation. As you ride into town, you rehearse a long overdue apology in your mind.

Y/N's POV

A few slow, monotonous days pass by you. You find yourself watching the door to your café, silently willing it to open. Every time you hear that bell ring you get a small rush of excitement, but it's crushed every time you look up and see a regular's face.

Did I somehow scare him off? You replay your last interaction with Arthur over and over again in your mind. It wasn't the first time you had caught a customer staring at you, but it was one of those rare instances where you weren't mad about it. Small towns feel smaller the longer you stay in them, so new faces excite you. Maybe you got too excited. You begin to convince yourself that you were too forward, or he was just traveling through town, or is flat out avoiding you when you hear the bell above the door ring once again.

Expecting disappointment at this point, you can't keep your eyes from widening in surprise when you see Arthur in the doorway. He is fidgeting with his hat in his hands as he approaches the counter. He has dark circles under his eyes and squints slightly as he looks in your direction. Working in a coffee shop for so long has taught you to instantly recognize a hangover. You intentionally keep your voice at a lower tone and quieter than usual as you greet him, "Hey friend, welcome back. Rough night?"

"Very fun night from what little I can remember, just a rough morning," He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other day."

"There's no need, really, you didn't do anything wrong-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Arthur interrupts you, "I was rude to you after you were kind to me and you didn't deserve that." He stares directly into your eyes, and you can see they're filled with sincerity, "I'm truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, and for rushing out the way I did."

You feel paralyzed by the weight of his stare, and you can see the guilt in his eyes. Even though you don't think he did anything warranting such a genuine gesture, you can tell he won't let it go until you accept his apology.

"Alright," You sigh, "All is forgiven."

The beginnings of a smile quickly shift into a wince of pain on Arthur's face. "I'd love to accurately express my gratitude but I think I might die if I don't get some coffee in me soon," He slides some change across the counter towards you, "And whatever you have on the menu today smells amazing, I'll have one of those too."

"Thank you! It's mini strawberry shortcakes today, now go sit down before you pass out or puke on my floors." You smirk, trying to ease some of the remaining tension.

Arthur lets out a small chuckle, "Good idea." He slowly walks over to his usual corner table.

As you prepare his order you think about how to handle Arthur. Based on how he's acted the past few times you've seen him, you come to the conclusion that you'll have to let him come to you, like a stray dog. Being too friendly too fast might scare him off again. You're also thankful that instead of letting one awkward conversation snuff out the sparks of a new friendship, you were both able to move past it.

Small talk comes easy to the two of you now. Arthur comes in nearly every day. You ask him questions about work and he gives you vague answers. He asks you about baking and why the décor in the café is so "unique" as he politely put it. About a month of these pleasantries go by. One day he asks you what you do when you're not working.

"I sometimes try to come up with new recipes for the menu! Or I go to estate sales for cups and furniture."

"That doesn't count, that's just more work!" A laugh escapes you as you realize he's right, "Come on, you've gotta have other things you like doing."

You shyly mention that you like to draw and document the insects and plants in the area.

His eyes widen and the corners of his mouth curl up in excitement, "No way! I have a journal that I draw in."

"Really? I'm surprised, hands like yours usually aren't holding pencils." You smirk at him, narrowing your eyes and hoping your snide comment might pry more information about his unspecified line of work out of him.

He simply laughs, "Ha! Explains why I'm not very good at it."

You roll your eyes at another failed attempt to learn more about his job. Is he avoiding the subject on purpose or just being dense? "Well if you ever want to share of see some of my art, my house is just a ten minute walk down the road. It's the little one with the wooden wind chimes."

Arthur seems taken aback by your invitation and takes a moment to respond, "I'd like that. When should I head over?"

"I close up shop at two and if I get through my cleaning fast enough I can probably be home by four. Does that sound good?"

"I'll have to run a quick errand but it shouldn't take too long." Arthur drains the last of his coffee and stands up, "I'll see you later, Y/N."

"See ya, Arthur!" You wave goodbye as he leaves. You can't help but smile to yourself as you clean off his table. You check your pocket watch and sigh, it's only ten.

The minutes sluggishly pass by you as your giddiness grows. You try your best to avoid checking the time in between each task, knowing that will only make the day go by even slower. You're washing plates behind the counter when two unfamiliar men stumble through your doors. Before you can greet them they walk right past your register and over towards one of your customer's tables. You follow their gaze and see they have their eyes locked on Eva, the eldest daughter of one of the local farmers. She comes here in the afternoons to read without having to worry about her rambunctious little brothers bothering her.

She's so engrossed in her book that she doesn't notice the men saunter over, about two steps closer than they should be. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as one of the men clumsily places a hand on the table, knocking over her cup and spilling coffee into her lap.

"Hey! Watch it-" Eva looks up from her book and sees just how close these men are. Her eyes widen as they lean over her.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing sitting here all alone?" The shorter man's words practically slosh out of his mouth. He tries to put a finger under her chin, but Eva slaps his hand away.

The taller man grabs her wrist. "That's no way to treat someone who's just being nice to you, missy." He hisses through gritted teeth.

You clear your throat and stand with your arms crossed over your chest, hiding your shaking hands, "Excuse me gentlemen, I don't take kindly to folks that harass my customers. I'll give you to the count of three to back away from her and get out."

The men glare menacingly at you, "Or what?"

"Or this pot of boiling coffee is gonna make it real easy for the law to identify your ugly mugs." The thugs glance at each other, and then back at you, "One. Two-"

"Fine." The taller man drops Eva's wrist and drags his companion out the door behind him without another word. The scent of whiskey lingers in the air behind them.

You let out a long exhale. You knew you wouldn't have been able to win that fight if things had escalated, but they didn't need to know that. "Eva, are you alright? Do you need me to walk you home"

"Oh I'll be alright," She stands up and tries to wring the coffee out of her dress, "Thanks for scarin' them off!" She gives you a big smile as she collects her things. You wrap up the remaining shortcakes and send her off with a treat for her troubles.

You check your pocket watch again and you're grateful to see it's finally two. You flip the sign on the door to "Closed" and rush through your closing tasks, quickly forgetting about the incident as your planned meeting with Arthur grows closer. You can't remember the last time you were this anxious to get home. You finish your chores in record time, lock your café doors, and begin walking home. You're so caught up in your excitement that you don't look around for insects to draw like you usually would, but you do notice the squirrels and rabbits in the surrounding forest are skittish. They seem to make much more noise than usual as you follow the trail through the woods.

As you unlock your front door and turn the handle, you hear a voice behind you.

"Look who's all alone now."

//

Thank you so much for reading! Forgive me for the long absence, April is a terribly busy month for me and I was also getting extremely burnt out from work. To be super real the only reason I was able to get this typed out and posted is because I got sick and couldn't get out of bed all day (lol). Tumblr is also being super weird and not letting me indent no matter how I type this out or where I copy and it paste from. Anyone else have this issue?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 coming soon!

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @photo1030

[h3adph0nez]

The post made me think of them so enjoy the little meme

[wannawrite999]

[designstack]

Animals, human and fruits. Drawing 🍃️🌺️🍃️

Diary Portraits and Sketchbook Drawings. More art from İrem Acar, on our site.

https://www.designstack.co/2024/05/diary-portraits-and-sketchbook-drawings.html

[unstablecoffeecups]

i had a nice day. i helped my mom with our kitchen and wrote back to one of my penpals. i'm tired but i tried (i just realized tired is a messed up tried). took a shower aswell.

my coffee tasted better than usual this morning. it was raining outside and i'm happy for the nature. i took a pregnancy test just in case which turned out negative. i'm a little paranoid about getting pregnant. i guess i'd like to have kids but not when i'm like this. struggling to make it through the day.

i want to have more days like this. i was triggered to s*lf h*rm earlier but didn't. i got through it so that's good. it's been a few months i think. small steps are still steps

maybe my meds are starting to work but i don't want to get my hopes up yet. i don't wanna be disappointed again.

i took this picture a few days ago. i love bees, so cute...

[silasbug]

commending the bug that decided things were going to change last year, August 3rd, 2022.

you were ambitious. you tried.

then you stumbled, fell on your face, curled up into a ball, and cried.

nothing changed. (things got worse.)

2024 is just around the corner.

we'll try again.

(i'm trying to care enough to try again).

(it's hard).

[quiet-admirer]

Hollow Knight has me in the chokehold of my life right now, and I've been playing without bothering to look at the Hunter's Journal, but finally decided to go through and read all the lore and like damn the Hunter's a fatphobe huh 💀 Just let a zombie bug decide to stop being a warrior when there's a literal plague going on and get fat in peace man

[blackwood-library]

Night Of: 7/20/24

Dream Type: Nightmare

Subject: Church, My Mother

Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Referenced Abuse, Body Horror, Bugs

⊹₊ ㆍ✿ㆍ

⊹₊ ㆍ✿ㆍ

⊹₊ ㆍ✿ㆍ

⊹₊ ㆍ✿ㆍ

⊹₊ ㆍ✿ㆍ

I am sitting in the pews of a church I have not been to since I was seventeen. Beside me sits a woman who only recently died. I do not know what my mother looked like when she died, but the image of the woman at my side is how I remember her best.

Her hair is long, pin straight, and peppered with streaks of white and grey amongst her natural auburn. Her face is thin, her hands are frail, and her blue eyes hold no light in them. She looks so small beside me.

I should not be afraid of her.

My gaze falls to the heavy wooden cane at her left, and I have to stop myself from flinching when it shifts in her grip. There is a dull pain between my shoulders where I have been struck with it before.

I look up when I hear footsteps, and I see a priest at the altar. I recognize him. He died when I was young- twelve or thirteen, after drinking poisoned coffee.

The Priest’s face is decayed, his skin is loose on his body, falling off in places, riddled with holes where bone is exposed. A crown of blowflies circles his head like a halo, and maggots crawl from beneath his lower eyelid.

He starts his sermon and I cannot hear the words he speaks. I am trapped staring at him, my body trembling as black ichor bubbles and drops from his unmoving mouth.

Christ behind him is bleeding from his mouth.

God is not here.

Have I ruined everything in my own life? Have I caused this decay?

My mother grabs my arm and I can feel her turn to me. I do not want to look at her, but I have no choice.

Her face is just as decayed as The Priest’s is, with flesh falling from bone, melting away in liquid stage. Bugs crawl from her mouth, the hand on my arm is severed from her arm.

“You did this to me, [REDACTED],” she says.

The Priest’s voice mixes with hers, and suddenly his hands are on me as well.

“Repent. Repent. Repent.” They chant in unison.

My eyes are wild and I am shaking, panting and terrified.

My crimes can only be paid in blood. I should not have survived my childhood. I know this.

I can fix it.

There are so many ways I could fix this. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before. Less, in recent times, but I briefly tell myself I should start thinking of all my options again.

I wonder how many of my preferred methods would work anymore.

Lasmiditan would be easy enough to get my hands on. I have easy enough access to Xanax too. I don’t know how well medication would work, though. I don’t know how much I would have to take.

I wouldn’t steal from Michael, though.

There are other avenues I could take.

Deep water, I think, would be the easiest, though. I can’t swim. There’s parks I could make my way to.

The Priest and my mother do not stop chanting.

Christ is soaked with blood on the cross.

I don’t want to die.

I wake up.

[cicadaknight]

well into act 2 and supposedly astarion and i are together according to everyone in camp, but he has nothing more to say besides the usual “hello darling” ���

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

good news - making actual good progress on the hollow knight skin again and also we managed to write an entire fanfic last night

bad news - the fanfic was not anything were actually supposed to be writing and this is suddenly not so fun anymore

[abugsjournal]

A Cowboy's Cup of Coffee ☕

Arthur Morgan x male reader

Summary: This first chapter is mostly just introductions and getting to know our main character! Also hinting at mutual attraction. The real plot starts soon 👀

Content Warning: internalized homophobia (sort of?)

Chapter 1: The Handsome Stranger

Y/N's POV

     You wake up before the roosters sleeping in the local farms can wake up the rest of the town. You used to rely on them to wake you up but after a couple of months rising before the sun, it became routine. As the owner of the only café in Valentine, part of your job is waking up before everyone else and having coffee ready for them by the time they roll out of bed and make their way to you, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they order. Coffee is 5 cents per cup, and for an extra 3 cents you add a fresh baked pastry to go with the drink. You bake a different pastry for each day of the week. On Saturdays you make mini strawberry shortcakes, on Mondays you make blueberry muffins, and on Tuesdays you make peach turnovers (your absolute favorite). Your little café is closed on Sundays, you won't get any business while everyone is at church anyways.

     Today is Saturday and you're feeling particularly nostalgic. You remember how you were surprised by the news of your beloved uncle's passing, and even more surprised by the amount of money he left you in his will. He never had children of his own so you were the closest thing he had to a son. As a child you spent your free afternoons helping him run his butchers shop. You only helped at the register since all the meat and blood made you squeamish.

     Along with his life savings you also inherited his mismatched collection of coffee mugs and tea cups. That's what inspired the name for your business; The Collector's Café. You scavenged every estate sale you came across for cups, silverware, plates, chairs, and tables. No two pieces of furniture or dishes were the same. You found a vacant building in a small growing town named Valentine. Full of cattle ranchers and folks with big dreams. You hoped to fuel those dreams with coffee. You spent the remainder of your inheritance on the deed to the building, an oven, a few French presses, and your first order of coffee beans and baking ingredients.

     Two years later, here you are, unlocking your doors at five a.m. Within minutes you're greeting your regulars, as tired as they are loyal, and getting started on their usual orders. It's the busiest day of the week but it passes by without incident. You close up shop at two in the afternoon and finish up with your cleaning and other closing tasks by four. During your walk home you take a short detour through the nearby woods to unwind. It's the middle of spring and the native wildflowers are in full bloom. However, it's not the flowers that catch your eye. Peering into the center of a bright orange flower, you find a ladybug.

     Growing up you were always the shortest boy in your class and more often than not you were teased for it, so you developed a soft spot for the small creatures that were overlooked (or squished) by others. You pull out your sketchbook from your worn leather satchel and begin to draw what you see. You usually save drawing for your day off, but the little creature in front of you is just too precious to leave undocumented.

     After you finish walking home you eat dinner and quickly fall into a comfortable sleep, knowing tomorrow is you day off.

     You spend your Sunday morning tending to the house chores you neglected throughout the week. In the afternoon you stock up on groceries and supplies for the café. You spend the rest of your free time out in the woods drawing every little insect you can find. Before you know it the sun begins to set and you know it's time to turn in for the night.

     The roosters begin to caw as you pull your first batch of blueberry muffins out of the oven and set them on a rack to cool. As you unlock your doors and flip your sign to "OPEN" you can hear hooves and boots squelching through the muddy path through town. As the sun rises high enough to send warm beams of light through the windows, your usual group of regulars walk in, each greeting you with  a sleepy grunt or a gravely "Mornin',". Trailing at the end of the usual morning rush you see a new face. He walks in confidently but when you look into his eyes you can see something else, he looks lost. Maybe he's new in town?

     As he approaches the counter you try to make him feel welcome, "Good morning friend, welcome to The Collector's Café! It's not often I see a new face, especially this early, what's your name?"

     Shocked by your level of energy at such an early hour, the stranger takes a second to answer, "Arthur Morgan."

     "That's a fine name Mr. Morgan. I'm Y/N, nice to meet ya!" You smile as you take in the man's features. He's nearly six inches taller than you. Brown hair curls around the rim of his hat and back of his neck and matching stubble covers his jaw and chin. He has a strong nose that looks like it's been broken more than once, suntanned  skin, and the most piercing blue eyes you've ever seen. In the light coming in from the windows you can see they aren't just blue, they have a ring of green around the pupil that bleeds into the blue irises and for a split second you are drowning in them. You blink and remember you're supposed to be running a business. Clearing your throat, you ground yourself, "Now how can I help you?"

     Arthur's eyes wander from your face to the hand written menu propped up on the counter. "I'll have a coffee. Black."

     "Lovely choice, anything else?" You watch him narrow his eyes, still reading over the menu.

      After mulling it over in his mind, he replies, "Add one of them blueberry muffins too." He begins fishing out change from his pocket and drops eight cents into your hand.

     "Thank you Mr. Morgan! Go pick out a seat and I'll bring everything to your table in a moment."

     Arthur nods and begins looking around the eclectic café he finds himself in. He finds a seat in the back corner, a comfortable red chair next to a round oak table.

     You pull a still steaming muffin off the cooling rack and place it on a dainty plate decorated with ivy leaves around the rim. You fill a yellow mug from the freshest brewed batch of coffee and make your way over to Arthur, gently placing his order on the table in front of him. "There you are, holler at me if you need a refill!"

     "Thank you mister." He replies, looking up at you from under the brim of his hat.

     You think he might be a man of few words, or maybe just shy. You're already busy clearing tables as Arthur takes his first sip. You glance in his direction between each table, watching to see if he enjoys what you've made. New customers always make you feel a little nervous, the same nervousness you felt the day you opened your café. Thankfully, you see his eyes go wide as he takes a bite of the muffin, a slight smile forming at the corners of his mouth. You let out a small sigh of relief and return to your work, feeling a swell of pride in your chest.

     You're washing cups behind the counter when Arthur gets up to leave. "Have a nice day!" You call as he heads out the door. He silently tips his hat towards you and then he's gone. When you go to clear the table he was sitting at you notice that not a drop of coffee is left in the mug, and there's hardly any crumbs on the plate. It always warms your heart knowing your customers enjoyed their treat.

     The rest of the day flies by you. As you drift off you find yourself wondering if you'll see the handsome stranger again.

Arthur's POV

     You wake up to the sounds of the rest of the gang starting their days. You groan as you sit up, not looking forward to the tasks that will be given to you as soon as you exit your tent. Hopefully it won't be too bad, you're still worn out from setting up camp. You only just settled in this spot outside of Valentine and Dutch said we should lay low for a while. You get dressed and get your hair semi-decent before stepping outside.

     Javier and Hosea are sitting by the fire drinking coffee. "Bout time you woke up," Hosea greets you as you sit down to join them, "Dutch has been looking for you."

     "Won't kill him to wait one more minute." You pour yourself a cup of coffee and take a large swig. Your face involuntarily contorts in disgust as you swallow and you promptly dump out the rest, thinking about how much better the coffee tasted at the café you discovered while exploring the town yesterday. You make a mental note to go back after finishing up with whatever Dutch has planned for you.

     Walking over to his tent you see Dutch open his arms, the day's first cigar between his teeth, "Arthur! There you are," He throws an arm around your shoulders, "Would you mind escorting our lovely ladies into town today? They will not quit pestering me about it and I think it's about time we started gathering some intel."

     "Sure, I'm up for babysitting." You smirk at your own remark, entertaining yourself as you often do with your sarcasm.

     Dutch laughs and pats you on the back, "That's my boy! Hear that ladies?" You hear a chorus of excited giggles and turn to see Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth practically skipping towards the wagon. You can't help but smile at their giddiness as they chat and sing the entire ride into town.

     After hitching the horses you all split up. Luckily you weren't given anything specific to do in town other than making sure the girls stay out of trouble and making sure they get home safe, so you head right to the café, eager to get your caffeine fix for the day.

     Pushing open the door you hear a small bell ring above your head. "Hey Mr. Morgan!" Y/N smiles at you as the smell of coffee and peaches washes over you, "Back for more already?"

     You chuckle at how formally he addresses you, "Hey Y/N, you can drop all the 'Mr. Morgan' nonsense, Arthur is just fine."

     "Oh, okay! Well what can I do for you, Arthur?" As you look down at the barista you notice his eyes are the same deep brown color as the coffee he serves, perfectly matching his hair. His skin, despite being freckled, is almost as pale as cream.

     "I'll have a black coffee please, and do you have any more of those muffins?" You peek into the display case but you don't see any.

     "I'm all out of muffins, but I do have peach turnovers!" You must have looked as disappointed as you felt, the barista quickly adds, "I promise these are just as good! They're actually my favorite."

     Since your mouth has been watering since you walked in, you cave in and decide to try one, "Alright alright I'm convinced," You slide eight cents across the counter but Y/N slides three cents back towards you. You raise an eyebrow at him, suddenly doubting your ability to count without coffee in your system.

     "Go sit down, breakfast is on me today." He winks at you and starts preparing your order.

     Shocked by his kindness, it takes you a moment to remember your manners, "Thanks Y/N." You make your way to the same corner table you sat at yesterday. The café is full of customers, all happily chatting with Y/N as he weaves between tables clearing dishes and refilling mugs. You're surprised at how quickly he has your order ready. The cup of coffee is steaming and it warms your face as you bring the mug to your lips. After drinking the dirt water the rest of the gang calls coffee for so many years, you forgot what good coffee tastes like. You take a bite of the peach turnover, it's somehow better than the muffin you had yesterday! As the flaky crust softly crunches between your teeth and you bite into the juicy sliced peaches inside, you can see why these are Y/N's favorite.

     You continue watching him as he works. Everyone that walks in gets greeted with the same warm smile and he seems to know exactly how everyone likes their coffee without having to ask. After the majority of folks finish their drinks and file out, Y/N picks up the cups and plates and returns to wipe each table off with a rag.  He places his left hand down on a particularly long table and bends forward slightly to wipe down the edge against the wall. Your eyes travel from his shoulders and down his back. You can't help but stare at his slender waist and how his jeans hug his hips.

     Suddenly, as if he can feel your eyes on him, Y/N stands up and snaps his head in your direction. You feel your cheeks flush warm with shame, you lower your eyes and quickly finish the last of your coffee. Y/N glides over to you, "Need a refill?" Despite being taller than him, you suddenly feel very small with how he's looking down at you in your chair. Is the smile on his face playful? You're too wrapped up in your own embarrassment to know for sure.

      "Ah, no thanks," You can't stand his stare any longer and abruptly stand up, "I think it's about time I head out." Avoiding meeting his eyes you quickly walk past him and towards he door.

     "Oh, alright. See you round Arthur." You feel Y/N's gaze follow you as you go. You walk back towards the wagon, trying to shake the image of the barista's blue jeans from your mind. The girls are already there waiting for you. You silently ready the horses and climb into the wagon.

     "What have you been up to, Arthur?" Tilly asks as she climbs into the back seat.

     "Not much, just had some actually decent coffee," Not wanting to think about how the rest of your morning went, you quickly change the subject, "Did y'all hear anything useful?"

     "Oh yes," Karen interjects, "We'll tell you all about it when we get back to camp."

     The ride back is quiet, the afternoon sun through the trees dappling your path in shade. Upon arriving, you quickly look for something to do and settle on chopping wood for tonight's fire, hoping no one bothers you during the meditative task.

     After dinner you retreat to your tent, tossing and turning restlessly in your cot, unable to take your mind off of how Y/N was looking at you earlier after he caught you staring. You thought he would have gotten upset with you, but you were met with a smile. You think you saw a hint of mischief in his eyes but you quickly convince yourself you imagined it.

     You fall asleep cursing yourself for eyeing him the same way you would eye a woman.

//

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time writing a fic and I can already tell I have a lot to learn. I'm open to constructive criticism, all I ask is that you're nice about it lol let me know what you think about it so far!

Chapter 2

Taglist: @photo1030

[bugcrimesbracket]

[reginaofdoctorwho]

i don't even know if i WANT to finish nursing at this point, like i fucking hate college rn and it's only an associates program but like. please i am so tired professors let me fucking sleep

[deardeadbugs]

Dear dead bugs

Does it make me bad? Does it make me a bad friend? I wish I could make it go away but I can’t. I know if it doesn’t go away it’ll be a problem. a problem that may destroy everything, I don’t want that to happen. I hate how attached I am. How I know if everything fucks up, I will just go nuclear. It hurts knowing how everything was taken. I hate knowing what I was thought to be capable of. I wish I could explain myself but it’s all so confusing to even me. there’s so many layers to unpack. I’m not even sure if the problem is a real problem or, if I’m just not used to being cared about. Maybe I’m just not used to feeling safe interacting with people. The possibility of this whole situation being like when people think their in love with their therapist is not zero.

[designstack]

Tiger, human, food and animals. Drawing 🍃️🌺️🍃️

Diary Portraits and Sketchbook Drawings. More art from İrem Acar, on our site.

https://www.designstack.co/2024/05/diary-portraits-and-sketchbook-drawings.html

[silasbug]

a love letter to the cats from my youth.

i was feeling a bit sad recently when i thought about my younger years and how it feels like more and more memories have started fading. i know that i am the unreliable narrator of my own life, but there's certain things i hope not to forget.

when we were living in a small house between the fields in Canada, we decided to adopt cats from someone i'd met at school. we were only going to take two, but we fell in love with three of the kittens and took them home, marking the beginning of my little family.

they were: Big Foot (left, he was a 24-toed polydactyl, he always looked like he was wearing a cat-suit one size too big for his build), Bubbles (a cute little tabby) and Loveless (right, beautiful, fluffy, gray).

what we didn't know, however, was that there was another cat living in one of the abandoned and dilapidated buildings on the property. after we adopted the kittens, she became curious. we assumed that she must've lost her own litter, because she adopted the kittens and started nursing them. she was very hostile towards us at first, but eventually warmed up to the point that we could let her inside, pet her, have her sit close by. she never let us pick her up though, which is fair. whenever she had a litter, she would always hide the kittens under my mothers bed. i called her Blackjack. she was wonderful. the mother of mothers.

i did everything with these cats. if i was inside, they were near me or on me. if i escaped the house, they would follow. they joined me on every walk. climbed up every tree with me. they sat in all of my puzzle boxes and napped on me.

in the evenings, i would sit myself in our freezing little porch area while all three of them were curled up on my lap because i couldn't bear to be apart from them. (space ran out when they got older and larger, but they made it work & i got used to not feeling my legs under the mass of fluff.)

as an adult, i now realize that it was reckless and irresponsible, but we couldn't get them sterilized due to financial problems. so they had kittens, naturally. lots of them. we would always find them good homes, but with every litter, at least one would stay with us. my family of cats was ever growing and i loved all of them so fucking much. they were, more often than not, one of my only reasons to come home, to stay home, to get up in the mornings and to stay alive.

i miss the days of being buried beneath ~10 cats. i miss singing to them. i miss our walks. i miss the rustling of the grass around me as they followed my every step, their tails peeking out in between. i miss escaping with them. i miss how sweet they sounded and how they were more family to me than the people with whom i lived in that house. they walked me to the bus in the mornings and picked me up when i came home. they joined all of my adventures and they were the only reason i didn't feel completely alone while i was lost in the fog of life and the creeping depression of teenage.

they sparked joy when there was none and brought love to someone who needed it desperately.

they were everything.

Sora (the fluffiest motherfucker alive, he was baby) and Russia (don't ask me why i named a cat Russia):

Killer (chased a fox thrice her side across the fields, she was death, destroyer of worlds, the feistiest and most energetic cat you could ever imagine) and Chou (severely disabled, but so /so/ fucking sweet. she was pure sugar, pure love, an angel on earth. she just understood. if i thought i'd ever experienced unconditional love, it was from her):

Halfpint (named after Laura Ingalls from Little House On The Prairie, he looks a grump but he was a calm and loving soul) and Charcoal (sweetheart, looked like she sneezed into a pot of black powder lol):

some group pictures:

top: Chou, Sora and an unnamed kitten | left: Sora, Blackjack, Killer, Russia, Halfpint and Chou | right: Blackjack and Sid (a cat we took in briefly, he was attached to my hip, but didn't get along with the rest)

we couldn't take them back to Germany with us when we had to leave, and i still miss them dearly. i only hope they are still happy and well to this day, that the people that took them in loved them as hard and as wholeheartedly as they deserved.

but not everyone made it until the end, unfortunately, and i couldn't let them go. so i made them a little graveyard. hidden somewhere between the trees. RIP Big Foot, Bubbles and Russia.