buglegs

[buglegs]

this is pro-ai propaganda in disguise

honestly this isn't even about any particular stance on AI, I'm just annoyed by the amount of disrespect people are putting on the human brain. you have no idea what that bad bitch is capable of, having an AI write your emails is not gonna slow it down.

[buglegs]

irritating (englandxf!reader) p3

summary: (⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

word count: ?!

a/n: Yuh!!

Part 1 | Part 2

Next to my filling bath tub, I sat, picking at the skin around my nails.

I figured with such a fancy dress, I should at least pamper myself before getting into it. I thought it might help me get into the role of expensive-side-piece a little better.

A small part of me was excited for the night.

Mr Jones had been very friendly with me over the last few days. Almost as if he were actually interested in me.

I had to admit I was falling for it a little bit.

There was this look he'd often give me. I couldn't place it. It was mostly in his eyes, I found. Through those lame rectangular frames.

I caught that look earlier in the day, when I'd gone to treat myself to a cinnamon roll, at my favourite bakery. My. Favourite bakery.

Mine.

In case you didn't pick up on that. It's MY favourite bakery.

On a dingey little street a few blocks down from my flat was this wonderful little nature themed café.

The lady who owned it favoured daisies, which could be considered self-obsessed if you factored in her name...

Daisy.

But she was a sweet lady, and her love for daisies extended to bees, which extended to honey.

She put honey in everything. There wasn't an item in her shop that didnt incorporate honey.

She loved to talk about different kinds of honey, and before I met her I had know idea there were so many different types, all corresponding with the plants their pollen was harvested from.

But maybe the overabundance of honey was what drove her sales down.

The people want their meat pies!

But no. No meat pies here. Only sweet treats.

Anyway, that's where I was this morning.

Gazing in at the warm-lit pastries, I pointed toward the honey-glazed cinnamon rolls, signalling two to the staff member behind the counter, Daisy's son.

We went to school together. Things were left on kind of an awkward note, but through our combined power of pretending-the-past-didn't-happen and big fake smiles, we managed to interact just fine.

Our history was bad, but the cinnamon srolls were too good to stay away from.

He bagged two of them, hit a few buttons and gave me my total. I handed him the exact amount in silver coins and stood, smiling in my mind as I watched him count them.

You deserve that. You wretched evil little sack of shit.

He gave me a nod, pushed the bag toward me.

I took it with a meek thank you and turned on my heel to leave-

Woahhh slow motion

Bow chica wow

In walks a tall, beefy white guy with beautiful blonde locks bouncing around his perfectly sculpted jaw, a drop of glimmering sweat falls from the amazing, rounded but also somehow pointy tip of his nose. It's clear he's just come from from a good hard sweaty jog.

Damn.

From the pocket of his running shorts he pulls out a pair of glasses. He slides them onto his face.

Oh that's my boss!!!

As he brought an arm up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, his shirt lifted ever so slightly, revealing, mmmmmfffhhuck the waistband of his underwear.

OHGFLFDHA my boss is hot!!!! I can't believe it! I definitely haven't had any strange pervy thoughts about my boss prior to this moment!!!

Oh you are wearing those stupid boxers with the little hearts on them though. Hate to be nitpicky, but that is kiiiind of a turn off.

"Oh, (y/n)!" He acknowledged, a look of surprise on his face.

"Heyyy... Mr Jones." I awkwardly greeted him, not having enough time to enter work persona.

"Funny running into you here!" He grinned, placing his hands on his hips.

Why is that funny? I live around here.

"Uhh, yeah," I gave a light laugh, "I come here pretty often. It's my favourite bakery."

"Well! What a coinky-dink! It happens to be my favourite too!" He announced, puffing out his chest.

Oh, we're not in slow motion anymore by the way, that's done. It was done like 10 seconds ago.

I could only smile, unable to think of my next lines. Seemed the moment was over though, so moving to the next didn't have any awkward transition.

Mr Jones made his way to the counter and, in a hushed tone for some reason, he ordered. Or I think he was ordering.

He also could have been whispering sweet nothings to the cashier. Maybe they're in love and that's why this is his favourite bakery.

Do I wait here to say goodbye? Do I just leave?

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Mr Jones said my name.

He made his way over to one of the little empty tables, pulling out both seats and sitting in one.

Christ, what is this gonna be like.

Clutching my bag of scrolls at my side, I wandered over and sat in the chair he'd pulled out for me.

"So..." I murmured, crossing one leg over the other, "What can I do for you, Mr Jones?"

He laughed gutturally, taking me by surprise.

I sort of just laughed along, but also questioned,

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing." He sighed, "You don't have to be so formal. You're not at work." He assured with a smile.

Oh.

"Right..." I nodded, now even more unsure of myself.

"I've been meaning to ask how you're getting to the function tonight." He said, fidgeting with the receipt in his hand.

"I'm going to catch the bus," I shrugged.

He rose an eyebrow, "The bus? In that dress?"

Are you not supposed to wear fancy dresses on public transport?

"I'll come get you." He offered. I mean it was more of an assertion than an offer.

"Uhmm.." I hummed, looking away in thought,

You know what?

"You know... I don't see why not." I agreed, the corner of my lip twitching up into a smile.

Free ride beats the bus...

"Black coffee, three sugars!" Was called from the counter.

"That's me." Alfred huffed, pushing himself out of his seat before going and grabbing his coffee.

He shuffled back over quickly, "I'll be there to pick you up at six. How's that sound?"

"Perfect, I'll be ready." I smiled,

"What's your address-?" He paused, "Oh, wait. Silly me, I already know it!"

I furrowed my brows.

I guess you did hire me. Still...

"See you at six o'clock!" He gave my foot a tap with the end of his ugly running shoes, shooting me that odd look. And then he just. Made away, disappearing out the door.

Aaand memory fade out.

Now, here I am, naked, on my bathroom floor, staring into the bath water with a sort of malice.

Do I even want to take a bath?

I did want to take a bath.

But now I'm not so sure.

Because getting out of the bath sucks.

From the other side of the locked door came scratching, followed by a faint, high pitched meow.

It was as if my dear companion was telling me

'its okay. at the end of the night, your bed will be waiting. and i will have done a stinky shit in my litter box that you will not be able to sleep without cleaning because the smell will be so unbearably rank.'

I decided against getting in the bath, instead opting to drain it, put my dressing gown on and go lay on my bed like a princess.

I flopped down onto my mattress, stomach down.

I turned my head and gazed over at the dress that hung over my desk chair, almost admiring the silky glow reflected from my crappy ceiling light.

"Proww.." Said my kitty as she jumped up onto the bed, stepping onto my back with two paws, her weight distributed to only one paw as she adjusted.

You know the pain? Like a deep massage but the moment where your knot pops from one side of the masseuses knuckle to the other, creating pressure just perfectly too deep to become uncomfortable for you to say AHH OK STOP

She layed stretched across me, front half of her body hanging off my left side and the rest of her hanging off the right.

She was odd.

Ha.

So.

Now.

I'm looking at that dress and I'm thinking I should've asked for a bigger bonus.

Mr Jones could afford anything. Maybe he was mafia. But he seemed more like billionaire's son gone main character super hero but oh wait that's a villain to oh wait he's actually kind of complicated like a human being to no he's too self obsessed.

Like the Elon Musk type.

I didn't want to think about it anymore.

I just wanted to give the side of me that felt a bit excited full control.

But I couldn't. To romantisise a situation like this. That would be a step backwards. For feminism.

I reached over to my side table to grab my phone, clicking it on to find the time.

4:30pm

I have an hour and a half to look glamorous enough to look like I'm even supposed to be wearing that dress.

I wanted to cry.

"Don't cry, don't cry.." I huffed to myself, blinking the tears from my eyes.

"Wait, no no, you look more alive after you've cried. It's natural lip plumper, face blusher, tired-half-lidded sexy eye effect. It's everything you need." Spoke my kitty.

"You're so right..." I sobbed.

And I sobbed.

Awkward.

I shifted, forcing kitty off me.

I stood up and turned to face my mirror.

Queue makeover montage!!?

I put some music on, did my hair and makeup, slipped into that beautiful gown, Cinderella glass slipper moments, he got my shoe size correct.

And I was ready. Within an hour.

That left me an extra thirty minutes of pacing, wishing I had a cigarette, and pacing.

-

thx four (4) reading

[buglegs]

Eleven!!! Eleven entire people like my story!

I love Hetalia for it's wide and diverse cast of characters. Can't speak on how historically accurate it is, but I think assigning whole nations cute anime boy personas is fantastic...

(imagi)

[buglegs]

“I’m a duck. You’re a sheep. We can make it work” ⚘️

[buglegs]

I just remembered I actually did write smut on an old blog 😔 I thought I was clear of that

[buglegs]

p2 : irritating (england x f!reader)

(y/n) returns from her coffee run, things go slightly awry... a/n: hi. most of this is straight yap. p3 to come.

Part 1

"Okay…"

I pursued my lips in concentration, scribbling down the final order for my impending coffee run.

I was irked. Not simply because, oh god I hate having a job ew, but for some reason all I could think about were how many individual steps there were to getting toward the end goal.

Exit the room, left foot in front of right foot, one step, two step, three steps, four steps, five steps, six steps, seven steps, eight steps, nine steps, ten steps, eleven steps, twelve steps, stop, eyes find elevator button,

arm outstretched, finger pressed button, wait.

Teas, coffees, really it would've been easier had they designed a kitchenette into this godforsaken room. I mean, why wouldn't you? By the looks of the lot of them, they certainly had the funding…

"Don't strain yourself, dude!" Mr Jones saw me off, very nearly slamming the door behind me as he headed back in to progress their big fancy meeting.

Autopilot flicked off, and my posture loosened.

It didn't take a lot to get me aggravated. I was sort of inherently resentful, but I'd like to think I was good at presenting otherwise.

I walked down the hall, rang the elevator and stepped in, hitting the lobby button.

I let out a long sigh as the doors shut, feeling my weight shift as I descended.

Please, God, don't let this thing stop. Minimise the amount of small talk I'll be subjected to on this day.

I eyed the digital display above the buttons,

8… 7… 6… 5 - ding

The doors opened, revealing Kahest, a talkative woman. She seemed to always have something to say. She liked to just… yap. I never really took note of anything she said, it was all sort of nonsense.

"Morning, Kah." I greeted casually,

"(y/n)! How are you this morning, angel?" She shot a sickeningly genuine smile at me, stepping into the elevator with a clipboard clutched to her chest.

In spite of my judgemental internal monologue, I did quite like her. She was kind. I could be real with her. Though at times her joy… it was suspicious. She must have had some toxicity to her. I liked to imagine her own thoughts to be as obnoxious as mine.

"Oh, you know… Bit irritated." I shrugged, "Getting coffee for that floor 9 conference."

The doors closed, and a short ding sounded out.

Her eyebrow rose, "Oh yeah, how's that going? I ran into some of them downstairs earlier. Interesting bunch, huh?" She commented.

"I'd expect nothing less from Mr Jones." I grinned.

He was a weird guy. It was no surprise his associates were also… Strange. At least they were diverse.

"Heard you got caught up with Mr, uhh… The Englishman? In the elevator earlier. Nightmare?" Kahest questioned.

I furrowed my brows, "How'd you…"

"Nikki? The janitor…" She rubbed the back of her neck.

I rolled my eyes. I suppose being a janitor would be boring, but, God, really?

"Uh, yeah… I don't know. He was fine."

Kahest knew of my distaste for businessmen. And men in general.

"Fine?" She tilted her head, "Nikki mentioned he was cute…"

I rolled my eyes, "And to think this elevator ride was supposed to pass the Bechdel Test." I sighed, ignoring her comment.

"It's a man's world, (y/n). What can I say?"

The elevator dinged, the doors opened and we both stepped out,

"Also, just to give you a headsup, there's going to be some work dinner some time on Saturday, next week." Kahest announced, "Not clear on the details just yet."

My face scrunched up, showing my discontent, eliciting a hearty laugh from her,

"What for?" I asked.

"Mr Jones asked me to organise it. He didn't tell me much about the occassion, but it's celebratory." She explained.

"It'll be interesting, I suppose…" I murmured,

"Anyway, I gotta do this coffee run. Talk later, maybe."

-

Ding

Out of the elevator I stepped, balancing a tray in each hand. Twelve cups altogether. It'd be a nightmare to spill all these, gosh, I sure hope nothing like that ever happens.

I scurried on back to the conference room, knocking on it with the pointed toe of my heel.

Behind the door I could hear bickering.

It seemed no one heard me, so I knocked again, louder.

Mere moments later, the door swung open, revealing Mr Jones. He stepped aside, allowing me room to move in.

The bickering came to a halt, all eyes on me, or rather on the treasure I came bearing.

Sweet caffeine.

I made my way around the large oval table, handing out each respective order, which was going swimmingly.

As I went around, conversation seemed to pick back up, and it all became noise, autopilot kicking back in, finally.

Coffee number eight…

Coffee number nine…

Coffee number ten…

I got around to the second to last person.

Now, who were you again?

Mr Kirkland, wonderful.

If I could just get a small whiff of you… God, you smelled good in that elevator. What is it that makes you smell so good?

My eyes looked over the last two cups, settling on the one with the tag of a teabag peaking out from beneath the lid.

"Thank you so very much, sweetheart," He smiled with teeth as I set down his tea in front of him.

There was a tiny little gap between his two front teeth.

It'd be rude to ask if his tongue ever gets caught in it… Don't talk.

I stepped around to the final person, arm outstretched as I placed their coffee down.

Of all times to have a tremor, it had to be now,

My elbow jerked back.

Mr Kirkland had removed the lid from his cup,

Thank goodness I hadn't knocked any drinks over.

But I had jabbed poor Mr Kirkland directly in the eye.

"Oh, fuck-!" I twisted back to face him,

"I'm so sorry, Mr Kirkland!" I apologised, clutching the empty cup trays to my chest,

He groaned softly, hand cupping his eye,

"No worries…"

-

That's about how well that went.

Two hours passed and the meeting was wrapped up,

Thank God.

All I wanted to do was leave. Standing around a room of bickering men in these shoes for that long just about put me at my limit.

I opened the door to everyone, standing aside, saying goodbyes.

When Mr Kirkland finally came face to face with me, I apologised again,

"I'm really sorry again.. about your eye."

He shot me a look. Not a good one. I mean. It was a bit ambiguous. To me, anyway. Facial communication wasn't really my forte.

I found it hard to read expressions on account of the fact I was usually too focused on things like,

Wow. I bet a beautician would love to work with those eyebrows. So much to work with…

Either way, I couldn't tell what he was feeling or thinking, and it tripped something in my brain.

"Don't fret, really." He shook his head, "I can hardly feel it anymore." He assured.

He was definitely lying.

He said a quick goodbye and shuffled out.

After the last person finally got out the door, I pushed it shut, taking a breath before heading back to the table to collect empty cups.

"(y/n), don't worry about all that. The janitor will take them when they come in," Mr Jones stopped me, stretching his arms above his head.

I hummed in response, clasping my hands behind my back,

"Is there anything else you need me for today, Mr Jones?" I asked, headed back toward the door, predicting a no.

"No," He paused, arms dropping to his sides, "But I need a word with you."

I really hope you're not firing me for negligence. Does what I did even count as negligence? What's the legal definition of negligence…

I turned around to face him, fingers crossed behind my back.

"It's not about Arthur, don't worry about him," He assured with a grin, "He'll be fine, he's a wimp."

Oh. That's not very interesting then. Can't be life changing, whatever it is haha.

Am I about to really wish I read that NDA properly?

"We're celebrating an associates…" He paused searching for a word, "It's an anniversary of sorts."

"Kahest let me know about that," I nodded.

There is no way he's doing this unless he can get away with it. I really wish I read that agreement.

"I would like for you to come with me, as my date."

Oh, please fire me for negligence.

I was speechless for a moment, mouth agape,

"Uh.. hah.." I smiled, "You're my boss.. isn't that a bit…" I paused, looking for an inoffensive word, "Well, y'know..? How's that going to look?"

Especially for me. I won't be some common whore!

"You would receive a pay raise…" He practically hung that over my head.

"Mm.." I hummed, showing my hesitation, hoping that'd be enough.

"And a $5,000 bonus."

I'm a common whore!!! I will scream it out in the streets! I. Am. A. Whore! Give me money NEOWWWW KA-CHING!

"Alright then. Sure." I responded simply.

He grinned, "Heh, awesome, man." He adjusted his blazer, "It'll be a formal dinner, if you don't have anything to wear I'll organise something for you."

Meee-yowww… Okay, Mr Jones…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

My coworkers might think lowly of me. But I'm not the one being unethical…

"I've got another meeting. Take the rest of your day off." He yawned, stepping past me and opening the door,

"You've got my personal number, right? Send me your measurements."

-

With a yawn, I reached my arms up in a stretch, fingers clasped together. Even got a little crack in my shoulder.

It'd been ten days.

Ten excruciating days of overthinking and panicking.

Pacing around, questioning my level of self-respect.

I mean, $5000? Is that all my dignity is worth?

In my cubicle I sat, peaking out the side before looking back at my monitor.

Displayed on the dimmed screen was a Facebook profile. Public.

Arthur Kirkland.

Amongst the panic about being my boss's dinner date, there were also thoughts of Mr Kirkland.

It must've been the residual guilt from hitting him in the face…

Except I didn't feel guilty, I thought it was a bit funny, actually.

So, then why was I sat at my work desk stalking my boss's associate?

I just. Had an itch. I just couldn't tell where we stood after what happened. He seemed. Irked. Irritated like I'd never seen anyone irritated before. It was so difficult to explain.

Maybe it was a British thing. A cultural blockage. Something I just didn't know about.

Either way, it left me paranoid. Like maybe I owed him something. Maybe he was going to seek me out to get it. Maybe he wanted money. Rich people are crazy. Rich British people are even crazier. Who knows what he'd impose on me.

0.2% of them believe in witchcraft.

That's at least 136,700 British people. That's a lot of British people.

My finger found the scroll wheel, slowly moving down the page, and I clicked on his photo albums, taking a little gander.

He was certainly easy on the eyes.

"Knock, knock!" A sharp shrill voice reached my ears.

I quickly powered my PC off, turning in my chair to face the perpetrator of this noise crime.

"Haven…" I greeted softly.

Haven was… My… Associate. I didn't particularly like her, but we have a lot in common. Like. Uh. Same job. Same background, sort of?

"Mr Jones asked me to deliver this to you!" She said, holding out a large box.

"Oh…"

"What is it? Do you know?" She asked, curiosity shining through.

"Uh… I'm not sure."

Should she really know our boss bought me a dress? I'd have to explain the whole date thing… But then again, she will see us there….I suppose it shouldn't matter.

"Mr Jones asked me to go with him to that work dinner on Saturday. I'm guessing this is what I'll be wearing." I explained quickly, not wanting to go any further into it.

Haven gasped, "Really-?? That's lucky… I know a few of the girls here would die to be in your position!"

I placed the box down on my desk.

You don't need to know he's paying me, I don't think…

I lifted the lid off, and inside, pristinely folded, was a deep, forest green dress, and a pair of-

Oh, those have red bottoms… Aren't these really expensive?

"(y/n)…" Haven whispered, taking one of the heels out of the paper lined box, "This is like. A situation out of one of those movies."

"God, I love those…" I sighed.

So why didn't I feel good? Why wasn't I enjoying my female protagonist opportunity?

Because it goes against your code. You're a feminist, remember?

"You seem unsure…" Haven commented, handing me the gorgeous heel.

"I don't know. I've just never been to such a formal event." I lied.

I was not prepared to spill my guts to her. My inner confusion should stay just that. In.

~

thx 4 reading <3

Part 1

[buglegs]

I'm gonna write more fanfiction soon as well. I want to write a second part to that Hetalia thing so bad but I'm blocked so give me a while. Super hoping people come back for that.

[buglegs]

So basically I think I like everyone ironically

[buglegs]

Honestly, y'all, I'm begging you. Take the time to think and learn for yourself. Even if it's just something casual like knitting or cooking. Exercise your brain. It's important.

[buglegs]

Inspired by. Yknow. Current events

[buglegs]

irritating (england x f!reader)

new in the building and hating life, reader meets her boss's closest associate for the first time a/n: hi. i cant believe i did this. i haven't written fanfic in a fat minute. if this opener goes down well, i'll turn it into a series. i do actually want to write multiple parts so we'll see

Part 2

With a cat in my lap, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Oh boy! I sure was enjoying my day off.

A day off from the world.

But, oh, no. Who could've guessed it?

My manager was calling. On my bedside table sat my phone, face up, screen illuminated displaying 'work.'

Eight in the morning and already I wanted to die.

"Oh, day off, how I've appreciated you so," I spoke theatrically to myself, setting my book down and reaching for my buzzing phone, "What do you think they want, kitty?"

Your joy, more than likely. Undoubtedly said my telepathic cat.

"They've rescheduled the conference for nine-thirty this morning, get here asap, no one else in the area is available and Mr Jones likes an assistant to be present at all times." Spoke the voice on the opposite side of the line, "Floor 9, Pasaulinis conference room written on the door, can't miss it."

Kitty was right. They wanted my joy.

I'd been recently hired as a secretary for my boss's boss, Mr Jones.

They said secretary, but aside from unpacking in the new building, all my responsibilities had consisted of retrieving coffee from the café downstairs and taking men's coats.

I suppose it'd be silly to complain, considering my rates…

Sigh. "Okay! I'll see you soon," I responded cheerily, though my face certainly wouldn't have shown it. I hung up before they could say anything more.

I checked the time and -- Oh, great heavens! It was near time to leave. Wonderful.

With much regret, I ushered my cat out of my lap so I could take a rushed shower and be on my merry way.

One rushed shower and a coffee later, I was exactly where I needed to be,

Looking up at a big, fugly corporate building. God, I hated these motherfuckers. But they paid me suspiciously well, couldn't hate them too much.

I made my way in, saying my socially-obligatory hello's and how-are-you's to my fellow staff members and making a beeline for the elevator with the least people within it.

I eyed the buttons, noting '9' was already lit, along with 3, but who gives a fuck about floor three when you're headed for nine?

In the lift with me was a cleaner, and an extremely well-dressed bloke with, undeniably, the best eyebrows in the entire cosmos.

I knew immediately Eyebrows must've been headed for the conference room, by his 'I'm so much better than you' demeanour. Conference-goers tended to have that.

At floor three, the cleaner shuffled out, pushing her trolley with her.

The doors shut, and with a ding, the elevator ascended.

It's just us now, Eyebrows. Me and you. You and I. You're the type to correct people on that, I bet. God, you're insufferable.

My jaw clenched as he turned his head to me and spoke,

"Excuse me, miss,"

Oh, an accent. British. I could have guessed…

I looked at him, a polite smile stretched across my lips, "Sir?"

"Would you happen to be heading to the World Conference?"

Oh, that's right. The corporation's name is 'World.' How the hell did they get away with that? I mean that's such a… oh. What was it called again?

"I am," I nodded, then averting my gaze. He was pretty.

Too pretty. Can't look at pretty people too long. They burn my eyes. That's why I can't spend too much time in the mirror. Zing!!

"Excuse my bad manners… I'm Arthur, Kirkland." He introduced himself, offering his hand,

"y/n… l/n," I reached out for his hand. His handshake was more of a delicate hold. It was so…

"Are you a country-?" He questioned. I didn't notice the look of dismay that crossed over his face after speaking. Though, it wouldn't have given me any hint as to what he could have meant.

"I'm sorry? I… don't think I understand," I spoke sheepishly, retracting my hand, "I'm Mr Jones's assistant. I, uh, I bring him coffee."

He chuckled, "I suppose you know then that he's a bit of a brewzilla," He joked.

My eyebrows knit together in confusion, "Brewzilla-?" I laughed softly, "He is a bit of a monster before his first coffee in the morning, I guess."

His eyes lit up. I guessed I picked up on his pun exactly as he intended.

Maybe this conference-goer wasn't so insufferable...

Pfft. Naw. They all suck.

The elevator dinged, the doors spread apart and we both stepped out, looking down the long hall way.

"You wouldn't happen to know which room we're supposed to be in?" He asked, just as clueless as I.

"Uhh… My manager said… I think… Pasaulo? Pasauli?" I shrugged and shook my head. I must've looked like a complete tool. So unprofessional.

"Ah, Pasaulinis?" He corrected, pointing toward a door that was labelled as such.

What the fuck is even a Pasaulinis? Does that mean something?

We headed in. He even held the door for me, can you believe? No one's ever held a door for me.

Inside was a long oval table, surrounded by at least a hundred seats. I hoped and prayed to whatever Gods they wouldn't all be filled. It seemed about everyone who was going to arrive had arrived, by the relaxed, almost friendly chatty air about.

At the head of the table was Mr Jones, who was getting his papers into order.

He hardly acknowledged me before throwing a quip at Mr Kirkland, who paid him no mind.

Mr Kirkland gave me a quick 'it was nice to meet you' before making his way over to an unclaimed seat, and loudly, Mr Jones called me over, handing me a sheet of paper and a pen.

"Is this… a non-disclosure agreement?" I questioned with hesitation.

"Uhhh, duh! Says it right there!" He laughed, "Don't worry, it's just a formality, dude!"

Dude. God, I'll never get used to that. In a place like this.

"If you say so… Homie…" I sighed, signing the paper and handing it back to him. The previous day, he'd insisted I refer to him as either homie, home-dawg or home-slice. Couldn't tell you why.

He gave me a nod, signalling to close and lock the door, which I did before promptly heading to stand behind him. At his command, ready to be ordered about and obey like a dumb little dog.

With everything seemingly out of the way, the meeting was in session.

-

So… Standing in at my first conference for… What is the company called again?

It remained unclear. I'd seen it tens of times before, and heard it spoken, but for some odd reason, it never stuck.

At the end of the conference hall, I stood idle, hands cupped together at my backside. I stared down at the plain grey carpet, feet already beginning to ache in my heels.

I'd taken secretary-assistant-intern-whatever gigs before. They'll hire you so long as you look pretty and have some data entry experience.

I never took much in from conference meetings. They were all the same, usually. A bunch of entitled men all gathered around a big table, having a pissing contest. Who had the best idea always boiled down to who could best assert the size of their cock. Figurative cock. Dominance, I mean. That's probably a better word, huh?

"…Regarding the development of Cabo Verde…"

This one seemed no different, except the NDA I had to sign was made out to be a bigger deal than ever before.

Still, I had little interest.

"So what do you propose is to be done about this… Problem?"

What was different about this environment was that these guys seemed to be at the top of something. They weren't employers. They had employers employing employers employing employers employing staff.

"Miss (I/n)," Spoke Mr Jones as he twisted his body to face me,

"Coffee, pronto!" He had a sort of… Charisma. He was an animated man. Caricaturial, almost.

"Goodness, Alfred, is that any way to speak to a lady? You could at the very least have said please." Said Mr Kirkland, posh sounding accent shining through.

Mr Kirkland had made an impression on me as being kind, although seemingly hot-headed, by his outbursts during this meeting.

He was funny, witty, and I'd be a big fat liar if I were to say I didn't take note of how irritatingly handsome he was.

Still, he was a corporate know-it-all, and that meant I'd refuse to see him in any other light.

Although his butting in did make me crack a grin because;

Yes, Alfred, you could've at the very least said please. How difficult is it, really?

Mr Jones only rolled his eyes.

Now that I was looking at them both, I noticed somewhat of a resemblance. It'd explain the dynamic that was presenting itself.

"Can I get anything for anyone else?" I questioned, looking around the room.

Hands raised. So many hands. And so I made my way around the table, taking orders down on a small pad.

~

thx 4 reading <3 Part 2

[buglegs]

verbal bullshit and a gross sandwich

a/n: edits in amber

I stared at my phone's dim screen, deadeyed, scrolling scrolling. Sometimes it feels like that's all I'm good at. My sweet little dopamine booster.

My eyes strained to wander up to the top left corner to find the time, just barely making it out.

5:45am.

Pushing myself up, I reached over to my desk chair to grab my fuzzy sweater. I pulled it on over my head and swung my legs over the edge of my bed, knees crunching as I stood up and shuffled over to my door.

I wrapped my hand around my doorknob with a deep sigh, dreading the thought of interacting with my flatmate, whose sleep schedule was also erratic.

Something had been off for a while, but it wasn't as if I had the means to leave. We were in a housing crisis, and it was near impossible to find a better job without a higher education. I barely got my current job, and it was only retail.

He wasn't an open threat, sure. But he said some strange shit at times. It was enough to make me uncomfortable.

We'd had an unconventional relationship from the beginning. Slowly his antics broke down the foundations, and I no longer wanted anything to do with him, but I had to make sure my distaste for him wasn't too apparent, because I did still have to live with the guy.

I'd hate to dwell on the details.

I made my way through our manky little flat and into the kitchen. I needed a snack. I wasn't particularly hungry. Bored, more so. Eating is a good way to pass time. I could use the calories anyway, people are always telling me.

It was quiet, only the sounds of the soft pattering of rain on the roof reached my ears. For a moment I felt calm.

A huff of air exited my nose upon hearing the sound of my flatmate's door creaking open, followed by approaching footsteps.

I did my best to avoid acknowledging him, keeping my gaze on my own task at all times.

I went about my business, preparing to put together a measly ham and cheese sandwich, everything I needed, bread, butter, pre-sliced ham, pre-sliced cheese, all spread out in front of me.

I bit the inside of my cheek anxiously, focused on how unpleasantly cold the butter-knife was in my hand.

The sound of the lowest drawer behind me being opened made me perk up. The designated snack drawer...

I turned out of curiosity - well, mostly prediction.

He had a habit of taking my things. Normally, I wouldn't be so bothered by it, if he'd make an effort to ask, but he sort of just liked to... Claim things.

I'd buy snacks and save them for when I was feeling particularly gloomy. I didn't buy many things for myself, when I did, I liked to make it count.

Though, I hadn't even bought these myself. They were given to me by someone who knew just how much I loved them.

Low and behold ... My beloved cheesy crisps, gripped between his greedy fingers.

"Hey," I started,

"Could you please not eat those? I'm saving them." I put it as gently as I could.

He straightened his back, looking me up and down with what could only be described as utter disbelief, as though I'd offered up an entirely unheard of concept.

"Saving them?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes..?" I responded, confused as to what was do difficult to understand.

"What are you saving them for?" He asked.

I took a breath, "To eat."

"Can I just have them? You can always just buy more."

"I actually can't always just buy more. They're not really..." I paused, putting the butter knife down onto the counter, "Cheap."

He laughed, "Come on. Don't be stingey, Konnie. Just let me have some. I let you have a smoke yesterday."

"You did. Which I asked for, and was prepared for you to say no." I spoke softly, "I also offered to transfer you some money for it."

"You aren't entitled to my belongings for that."

He scoffed, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows,

"I'm just going to eat them, okay? It's not a big deal," He said, preparing to open the foil bag.

It may have been the wrong move, hell, it may have even been a bit dramatic, but I snatched the bag from his hands, placing it on the counter behind me.

"I said no." I stated firmly.

"Oh, my God, Konnie. Please, I won't even eat them all. I just want a handful." He begged.

"I said no." I repeated, turning back around to face my incomplete sandwich. Emphasis on incomplete.

I couldn't put everything away now. I'd look like a coward and a fool. I had to finish what I'd started, even if I no longer had any appetite.

His begging also went on for a while.

"Please."

"No." I sighed, opening the tub of butter and collecting a glob onto my butter knife.

"Please, I share everything with you."

"Everything is an exaggeration," I murmured, spreading the butter messily over the bread before dropping the butter knife into the sink, where it made a loud 'clank!'

I moved on to opening the pre-sliced cheese, struggling with the tough plastic for a solid minute before I managed to get it open.

Eventually, I became fed-up, which lead to a bit of an explosion.

"Just shut up." I grumbled, running a hand through my hair in exasperation, "How many times to do I have to say no-? Drive down to the servo and get your own fucking crisps!"

"And you don't have the right to my shit!" I retorted, back still turned to him.

"Fuck you! I'll smash your head in you little bitch, you don't have the right to talk to me like that!" He exploded right back.

Holding my composure, I put away all my sandwich ingredients,

"Oh, fuck off. You're not fucking smart, stop acting like you're smarter than me!"

My face twisted up in upset. I took my sandwich and my crisps and stormed past him, walking back up the hall and to my bedroom, swiftly locking the door behind me.

It seems extreme. If I were to put it into writing, it'd seem like an exaggeration, even. But it was normal. These were the motions. And tomorrow, it'd be like it never happened.

At least he was all talk and no action. Ha.

I sat on my bed, tossing my bag of crisps onto my desk chair

I placed my plated sandwich on my bedside, reaching instead for my phone.

What to do, what to do...

I looked at the time, rubbing my tired eyes.

6 o'clock, on the dot. I hadn't slept a wink, and my morning consisted of verbal bullshit and a ham and cheese sandwich I had no desire to touch. I didn't even like ham and cheese.

I fell deep into thought. I'll spare the details, but through self-gaslighting and guilt, I came to the conclusion that I should simply just give my flatmate the crisps.

Snapping back into reality, I found myself staring right at them.

A deep inhale-exhale and a minute later, I was stood at his bedroom door, crisps in hand.

I knocked gently, recieving a pro-longed 'whaaat' from the other side.

"Do you want these crisps?" I asked, fidgeting with the corner of the bag.

Within a few seconds, the door slowly opened to a gap, a hand reached out, and into the hand I placed the crisps.

The hand descended, as did my self-respect.

[buglegs]

Layers

u/iMeretrix

[buglegs]

This time it was beeping. It wouldn't stop. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was or where it was coming from

This beeping came in short, airy, high-pitched beats, every six or so seconds.

What was decided? It had to be a device hidden by a former guest.

A device.

Planted to listen.

What is so interesting about me that someone could possibly want to do something like this?

What had they expected to hear? And what had they heard?

What if I spoke to myself out loud in moments of dissociation? Could I have said something incriminating? Could it be cut up and mixed to seem outrageous?

"Konnie." Spoke a voice from the opposite side of my door, followed by three gentle knocks.

It was as though they were perfectly designed to communicate a tone of peace. As if to tell me 'be not afraid.'

"Konnie, what's the matter?"

Eyebrows knit together in confusion, I shuffled over to the door, pulling it open just a crack.

I eyed the figure through the gap with just a hint of suspicion.

"Nothing's the matter. Why would you ask me that?" I questioned, a sort of irritation apparent in my voice.

You idiot.

"I heard heavy breathing, I thought." The character stated plainly, pushing a foot through the door,

"Let me in."

I took a hesitant step back, giving him space to wander in. He had his usual mystical air about him.

The beeps had stopped. I couldn't share my discovery. He would never believe me.

"What have you been doing?" He questioned, eyes scanning over my mess of a desk.

"Drawing." My eyes narrowed,

"I want you out now, Arthur."

[buglegs]

u/Life_Future_7768

[buglegs]

What inspired this piece? Heh, oh well... Myself!

Oddly, writing that weird little thing earlier helped me make this. I have a new creative process I guess.

[buglegs]

hey guys i made the tumblr default pfps but they're looking directly at you