#also sitting here reading with a perfect view of the pride flag that is currently waving at the top of the flagpole of my old school

[the-prince-of-professors]

“Just in time,” said Raffles, as he sat down and the Cambridge men emerged from the pavilion, capped and sashed in varying shades of light blue. The captain’s colours were bleached by service; but the wicket-keeper’s were the newest and the bluest of the lot, and as a male historian I shrink from saying how well they suited him. “Teddy Garland looks as though nothing had happened,” was what I said at the time, as I peered through my binocular at the padded figure with the pink face and the gigantic gloves.

-- Mr Justice Raffles, chap. X

Your boy Bunny here just casually admitting he has a thing or two to say about Teddy Garland in cricket flannels that is better left unsaid in a public place.

[connorandersons-blog]

The Perfect Interview

Connor is offered an interview with an elusive CEO of an upcoming company. He expected many things but not for the man to be absolutely gorgeous and the company to be perfect for him. Hopefully he can keep himself in check for the interview.

Or: You’re interviewing me for a job at your company, but you’re distractingly attractive and all I can picture is us making out on your desk.

(A RK1K fic!)

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

Connor straightens his tie for the fifth time since he had gotten dressed. Which was an hour and a half ago but he still felt his outfit was a bad decision. It wasn't like he even had that much to pick from, but still. A white button-down, nice slacks, and a tie seemed a bit too plain now.

But he couldn't go back now or he'd be late for his interview. His interview with a very prestigious CEO of a major upcoming company. Connor had heard so many things about the man but never had actually seen him. No one had, it was actually a pretty big mystery.

Connor assumed he'd be an old white man like every other CEO, but he wasn't going to judge. Hell, he was being offered the job interview, no way he was turning this opportunity down. To be head of security and even a possible bodyguard for said CEO was a massive opportunity. He knew he wasn't the only one to have gotten the offer but he had to make a good first impression.

Yet his hands shook as he stared up at the tall building he had arrived at. Connor actually adored the city, he loved having so many places he could go and most within walking distance. He had passed this very building plenty of times but never thought he'd work there.

The skyscraper towered above him as great monoliths of concrete and glass. But there was something rather unique about this one. It has balconies with plants and solar panels, but on the ground held even more green. It had an abundance of flowers meant to attract bees and Connor smiled.

The CEO may be allusive but he certainly cared about the planet, his customers, and his workers. That's what made this so incredible, it was a perfect company to work for. It has gotten threats because of its strong views, hence the need for more (new and improved) security for the company as a whole but also for the CEO.

He took in a slow deep breath before walking into the building. His breath was caught at the enormous tree growing in the middle of the large room. He hasn't expected that, but the tree was definitely real and looked rather healthy too. Comfortable benches with cushions let those sit and relax around the tree. Connor noted a coffee and tea stand that many stopped by. Most also handed over an identical card, while others used cash or something else

Many people roamed around and he was pleasantly shocked at the diversity. He even saw several people with mobility aids moving around as well. He felt his heart stutter at the very visible rainbow flag that said 'Love is Love'. Damn, he really wanted to work here.

Now to meet the CEO, well the receptionist who would send him up to the CEO's secretary who would then let him see the CEO. So, two people, he was guaranteed to meet first.

He walked up to the counter with a confident and friendly smile on his face. Though, his father had said he had a 'derpy smile and should stick with a indifferent face'. "Hello, my name is Connor Anderson and I'm here for an interview." His voice didn't even shake!

The woman looks up and smiles gently at him. That's something odd about her. No, not odd, different, and inquisitive. It's almost like she can see into his soul, it kind of makes him want to turn tail and run.

"Hello, it's wonderful to meet you. You will do well, Markus is on the top floor, you're free to go up now." She nodded towards the elevators and Connor couldn't help but give her an awkward smile.

That was a bit ominous but he shrugs it off as he makes his way to the elevators. There aren't many people in there but none seem too shocked he's going to the top, instead, they seem curious. Not in the cruel way some older adults are, but simply wondering who he was. He was a new face and it seemed plenty of people knew each other as they talked softly.

The elevator ride isn't long but it still feels like an eternity before he reaches the top. The top floor doesn't even have that much in it, not that Connor can see. There is a meeting room, which Connor assumes holds the most crucial meetings. There is the room where assumes the CEO will be behind, and three others that he can see.

There is also the secretary's area which is as large as a room but without a door. He walks up, and the woman sitting there looks up. Her face is fierce and almost stern as she looks him over. If he didn't know any better it would look like he was meat and she was deciding if he was good enough to eat or not. Not in the sexual way, though, he got massive lesbian vibes off her.

Her name tag said North, that was a unique name but oddly fitting and rather pretty too.

She is stunning, frown and all. Her strawberry blonde hair drapes over her shoulder in a loose braid, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "Anderson. Connor Anderson, right?" She asks.

"Yes, that's me. I'm supposed to have an interview at 2?" He didn't lean on the counter, simply stood with his arms by his side, trying to appear open.

She nods and types something on her computer. "Alright, you can go in." She nodded to the door and Connor beamed at her.

"Thank you." She gave a small nod, watching him attentively. Damn, she could be security with the intensity of her stare. He definitely wouldn't fuck with anyone behind that door.

He knocked before entering, closing the door behind him. Oh shit. He would gladly fuck the man sitting there, though. His skin was a beautiful color, making his two-colored eyes stand out even more. He wore a wine red, slim-fit, three-piece suit. He had a black button-down making him look even sharper. He sat there in the aristocratic cutting lines of a great tailor, showing off the best parts of him.

The man had shoulders for days and when he stood up with a smile Connor was ready to melt. Or even drop to his knees. He was most definitely not a white old man.

Hot CEO who cared about people? Yeah, Connor was swooning. He also had a small scar over one of his eyes that had Connor transfixed. "H-hi, my name is Connor. I'm here for an interview." God, he was gay. So very, very gay. He was actually bi, but right now he only had eyes for the man in front of him.

"Markus Manfred, it's wonderful to meet you, Connor." He offered a hand that Connor readily took. It was so warm and a bit thicker than Connor's own. He didn't want to let go, but holding on too long could be a red flag. "Please sit."

Connor nodded and sat down, feeling spectacularly undressed. Though, he'd love for Markus to undress him even more. "Thank you for having me. I must say, I was a bit surprised at the offer and the fact my interview would be with you personally."

He expected a manager or someone for HR at least. Not that he wasn't absolutely thrilled at this, he'd gladly meet Markus again and again.

Markus's laugh was what he assumed angels sounded like. "It is a bit different, but I think that's how most see the whole company. Since we would be working so close, I prefer to get a feel for you myself."

'Please feel me up,' Connor thought, his face flushing at the thought. He needed a cold shower and a slap to the face. "I think what you've done is admirable, it's far more than most would do."

"Far more? You believe there is more I could do?" Markus leaned forward on his desk, a small upturn to his lips. Those lips probably would feel so good on his own, or kissing down his neck.

Right, he needed to focus. Connor wasn't one to stay too quiet about his opinions even in the face of very powerful men. "Yes, you are very secretive, which I can understand. But there aren't nearly enough men of color in power that is shown. I believe you could do a lot of good as a role model for youth of color."

He himself was white, but he tried to stay up to date on the world and attempted to use his voice to amplify those who were silenced.

Markus's eyes widen at Connor's words. "I'm… I have thought of that. Thank you for your honesty, it's definitely refreshing."

Connor smiled and gave a humble nod. "Of course. If anything, I pride myself on my integrity." So being blunt played off, thank god.

Markus gave a deep hum. What would he sound like getting sucked off? Was he the loud type or was he silent? This was so inappropriate, but Connor couldn't seem to stop. "I can see that. Now, I've read over your resume, your qualifications are… impressive. May I ask why you quit your last job?"

And there it was. Luckily he doubted this would actually be too much of a problem. "My boss was manipulative and was known for sexually harassing female workers. I confronted him about it and he denied it, of course. The women are currently in the process of filing reports with the police." He was still in contact with multiple of them. Echo and Ripple were sweet girls and didn't deserve what happened to them.

Markus frowns and leans back into his chair. "I see. I can promise that will not happen here. If it does it will be handled and sent to the police as well. We have a zero-tolerance policy." He smoothed his hands over the desk and Connor followed his hands. They'd feel so excellent holding Connor, maybe even have Connor sit on the desk.

Still, they went through the normal interview questions. Before each question Connor paused, head tilted to one side just a smidge, and then he delivered an articulate answer. He honestly thought it was one of the best interviews he's been in. Other than the whole fantasizing thing. It was almost natural, their back and forth.

Connor ended up learning a lot about Markus, including that he didn't like being called Mr. Manfred, and he really wanted to get a pet at some point. Connor talked about himself, saying how he had a dog he snagged from his father every other week. It was almost like a date, and a really good one too.

Still, the urge to lean across the desk and kiss the man senseless was powerful. So strong he couldn't stop biting and licking his lips. He knew he was being obvious, but Markus hadn't called him out on it.

There were pictures on his desk too. A few caught his eye. The first was a picture of Markus in plain clothes with North and two other people. They were all grinning widely and leaning into each other.

Another was of Markus and one of the men in the pictures, he was pale with blonde hair, he was leaning into Markus and placing a kiss on his cheek. Markus was laughing in the picture and someone with dark skin, Connor assumed the other man from the first picture, held up bunny ears behind both of their heads.

It was oddly adorable, seeing Markus so relaxed with his friends. Connor hoped to see that side of him too one day, even if he didn't get the job.

"I will say," Markus grinned, cocking his head to the side, "you are the best I've spoken to so far." Connor didn't think he was lying either. That bode well for the job, which could lead to a friendship then maybe even more. "It has been absolutely wonderful meeting you," he handed over his card, "I'll give you a call when we've made a decision."

Connor took it as he stood, looking it over. It was a simple card, it wasn't one you'd give out to everyone. If Connor's instincts were right, then the number printed on it would be Markus' personal cell. "Then why are you giving me your number?"

"In case you want to call me." Markus tipped his head, his eyes seemingly sparkling.

"Oh." Connor bit his lip, flushing a deep red. Perhaps Markus was interested too, in more than Connor getting the job. It would be far from professional, but Connor knew how to keep the two separate. Hopefully, Markus did too. "Ok, thank you."

Markus offered his hand again and this time they both lingered, staring at each other. Connor broke away first, chuckling. "I, yeah, ok. I guess I'll hear from you or you'll hear from me." Either way, they would talk again.

He couldn't help the smile that was covered his face as he left the office. He glanced at North who raised an eyebrow at him again before snorting. "Oh thank god, he needs to get laid," North muttered but Connor still heard. He hid his smile before walking back to the elevator. Best interview ever.

[whiteliesuk]

White Lie: Churchill is a wholly good war hero; we should continue to endlessly make the same WWII movies about him as the grumpy, difficult, irate, but oh-so-loved Prime Minister

The reality:

Anyone who’s followed me on any social media platform for any period of time will know how much I despise Churchill. In fact, I sit here restraining myself from launching into a massive tirade… In the interest of keeping some level of decorum and in the hope that readers will take me with some level of seriousness, I’ll refrain from calling him a shithead.

It instils a sense of rage knowing that Churchill was posthumously voted by Brits as the greatest Briton when you know his true colours. The removal of his bust from the White House was enough to create a political scandal on both sides of the pond. Dear god spare us from yet ANOTHER movie/TV series about the man saving Britain in the Second World War. Last week I watched the Darkest Hour to get over a sudden and frustrating break up. Did the movie add anything new? Absolutely not. But note to all womenkind: watching movies about reprehensible men will help you get over reprehensible men.

Politicians have scrambled to be equated to Churchill as though it’s a mark of pride and honour: Blair was compared to Churchill after dragging us into the 2003 Iraq war; Johnson has identified as Churchillian. To be fair, in both these instances, the comparison to Churchill is not entirely misplaced: the former was warmongering and terrorised innocent civilians in an illegal war while the other is a racist reprobate.

You can’t learn about the true nature of British colonialism and not be disturbed by the British obsession with Churchill. An obsession that’s driven by an insistence to see him as a one-dimensional war hero who saved Britain from fascism. This is not to say that Churchill didn’t play a part in saving Britain from fascism (I plan to dispel the myth that Britain alone won the war, without a MASSIVE helping hand from its Empire), but that there is so much more about Churchill that makes him deplorable.

Churchill’s well-documented white supremacism & bigotry

It takes a simple Google search to clue oneself up on Churchill’s racism. There was no two ways about it, Churchill was a white supremacist. Born in 1874, educated at Sandhurst and a Harrovian (always be wary of this lot), he was brought up believing the simple story that superior white men conquered people of colour and brought them the benefits of civilisation.

An explicit example of his beliefs in white superiority was recorded in US Vice President Henry Wallace’s diary: in 1942, Wallace challenged Churchill’s beliefs on Anglo-Saxon superiority during a meeting. Wallace wrote in his diary that Churchill had drank ‘quite a bit of whiskey’ and said in retort: ‘why be apologetic about Anglo-Saxon superiority, that we were superior, that we had the common heritage which had been worked out over the centuries in England and had been perfected by our constitution.’ And neither was this merely a drunken slip. Churchill was never shy to utter some of the most racist and vile things: he hated people with ‘slit eyes and pig tails’; people from India were ‘the beastliest people in the world next to the Germans’; he admitted that he did ‘not really think that black people were as capable or as efficient as white people’; and that ‘Aryan stock was bound to triumph’.

But he only said racist things, right? Even Johnson admitted that Churchill sometimes expressed opinion that would be ‘unacceptable to us today’, but it’s what he did, namely his defeat of the Nazis, that matters. To many, Churchill is the equivalent of the racist, old, white boss/manager/CEO who belonged to an older generation, who of course believed and therefore said those things. As long as he didn’t act upon them, then it’s all fine. This prevailing belief explains why the country voted for our currently unashamedly racist prime minister (lest we forget Johnson once referred to ‘cheering crowds of flag-waving piccaninnies’; to African people as having ‘watermelon smiles’; and saying that Muslim women in burqas looked like ‘letter boxes.’)

I would challenge the notion that it’s fine for your boss/manager/CEO, let alone Prime Minister, to be racist in what they say. In fact, Paul Weston, Chairman of the Liberty GB party (a far-right anti-immigration, Islamophobic political party), was arrested in 2014 on suspicion of racial harassment after reading aloud from Churchill’s own book The River War: ‘How dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is dangerous in as many as hydrophobia [rabies] in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy. Improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce and insecurity of property exists wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live.’ Clearly, simply saying what Churchill did could be considered a hate crime.

But I’ll humour those that take the ‘actions speak louder than words’ line and set Churchill’s diatribes against his context and actions:

Churchill was not merely an armchair aristocrat who waited to achieve his political ambitions, but a soldier who set off as soon as he could to take his part in ‘a lot of jolly little wars against barbarous peoples.’ And kill Churchill did: Churchill raided and laid waste to the Swat Valley (now part of Pakistan), destroying houses and burning crops; in Sudan, he bragged of personally shooting at least three ‘savages’. In South Africa, where ‘it was great fun galloping about’, Churchill defended British built concentration camps for white Boers, saying they produced ‘the minimum suffering.’ The death toll was almost 28,000, and while at least 115,000 were swept into British concentration camps, Churchill wrote only of his ‘irritation that Kaffirs should be allowed to fire on white men.’ (Shock, horror, the British were guilty of using concentration camps too. A blog post on this to come.)

On that note, we return to Churchill’s bust in the White House: George W Bush had left the bust near his desk in an attempt to associate himself with Churchill’s heroic stand against fascism (Bush joins the ranks of politicians who deserves an association to Churchill, but not in the sense he intended). Barack Obama had it returned to Britain because his own paternal grandfather, Hussein Onyango Obama, was one of the 150,000 rebellions Kikuyus forced into detention camps during Churchill’s post-war premiership: when the British government began its campaign to suppress the alleged 1952-60 Mau Mau uprising in Kenya, all to protect the privileges of the white settler population. Approximately 11,000 Kenyans were killed and 81,000 detained. In that light, we’ll allow it, Obama.

In 1920, as Secretary of State for War and Air, Churchill advocated for the use of chemical weapons on the ‘uncooperative Arabs’ involved in the Iraqi revolution against British rule: in an official memo he stated that he ‘[did] not understand the squeamishness about the use of gas… I am strongly in favour of using poison gas against uncivilised tribes. It would spread a lively terror.’ Historians have bent over backwards to excuse this particular comment: Warren Dockter, a research fellow at the University of Cambridge and the author of Winston Churchill and the Islamic World, said that Churchill was only ‘proposing to use in Mesopotamia… lachrymatory gas, which is essentially tear gas, not mustard gas.’ Don’t worry all, he wasn’t actually intending to kill people, just to commit a terrorist act. Oh, and Churchill was in favour of using mustard gas against Ottoman troops in WII, Dockter admits, but that was at the time when other nations were doing it too, so it was obviously alright for him to actually intend to kill the masses then.

Finally, as Colonial Secretary, Churchill offered the Jews Israel, although he thought they should not ‘take it for granted that the local population will be cleared out to suit their convenience.’ Simultaneously, he dismissed the Palestinians already living in the country as ‘barbaric hoards who ate little but camel dung.’ In an address to justify why Britain should decide the fate of Palestine to the Peel Commission in 1937, Churchill was again outspoken about his white supremacist ideology. Specifically, he sought to justify the British displacement of peoples throughout history:  ‘I do not agree that the dog in a manger has the final right to the manger even though he may have lain there for a very long time. I do not admit that right. I do not admit for instance, that a great wrong has been done to the Red Indians of America or the black people of Australia. I do not admit that a wrong has been done to these people by the fact that a stronger race, a higher-grade race, a more worldly-wise race to put it that was, has come in and taken their place.’

In thoughts, words, and actions Churchill was racist, and his position as a politician meant that his white supremacism had real, tangible effects. Many of which still has relevance today. Despite this, Martin Gilbert, Churchill’s most revered biographer, said that in writing Churchill’s story: ‘I never felt that [Churchill] was going to spring an unpleasant surprise on me. I might find that he was adopting views with which I disagreed. But I always knew that there would be nothing to cause me to think: ‘How shocking, how appalling.’ History is not only written by the victors, but also by historians who are willing to excuse those victors’ vile and abhorrent behaviour.

And I’ve not yet mentioned how Churchill’s so-called heroic actions during WWII killed an estimated 1.5 to 3 million people. Part 2 to follow.

[emilyplaysotome]

DTRH - Part 29 - All the Feels

My post got flagged for some reason...thanks to @full-of-obsessions for the heads up. I’m going to change the link on my master post so it’ll link to this one without shirtless cartoon man pics that flagged the algorithm 🤦🏻‍♀️

I noticed that Zyglavis was a bit red upon approach, but couldn’t figure out if the color in his cheeks was from the heat of the bath or some latent attraction towards me that caused him to be bashful. I obviously hoped it was the latter, but with the words of the fortune teller still fresh in my mind, I told myself not to read into things.

He did not seem rustled in the least to be sharing a bath with a woman who wore nothing but a towel, and took a seat next to me a comfortable distance away. He gently splashed water on himself, without a thought as far as to how it could be interpreted, rubbing his chest and biceps while speaking to me unfettered.

“No one at Sanno or Long Island recognized you, nor did they find a girl. How was it at the matchmaking event? Did you stick to the plan?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“No leads.”

I was trying to be as professional about this as Zyglavis was, but unlike him my face was burning and it was obviously not due to the heat of the bath.

I tried to keep my eyes locked on his, and not allow myself to be overtaken by the lascivious thoughts swirling around my head but it was short lived as I found myself glancing down when he finally broke eye contact. It was the moment when he looked away from me, and spoke about what our next steps should be that I gave into my baser instincts and realized that he was as naked as the day he was born.

Upon realizing this, I immediately became dizzy and backed away from him towards the edge of the bath. I attempted to excuse myself under the ruse that I had merely overheated and needed a moment to myself. Even though the water in the bath provided some coverage, it surprised me how little Zyglavis seemed to care, which only hammered home the point that he was so utterly uninterested in me that nothing about this situation was remotely sexual to him.

As I climbed out, I hoped that he would let me leave in peace, but instead he snapped his fingers and got out of the bath with a towel now covering him from the waist down in an attempt to help me. Even though the gesture was sweet, I cursed him under my breath.

For a God he was such a clueless idiot, but not wanting to give myself away, I forced myself to try and play it cool.

“Just let me sit here,” I said fanning myself as I lay down on the marble tile, “I just need a moment. I’m fine...really.”

“You do not appear to be fine Ami Mizuno and I will stay with you until you are feeling better. It is no bother. We have much to discuss.”

“No, no! I think you should go!” I urged. “I’ll get to bed on my own and we can speak about everything in the morning.”

“Absolutely not! I insist.”

I sighed, realizing that Zyglavis truly had no idea what I was thinking or feeling. Despite the inklings I’d had earlier on in the day (where I suspected that he might be aware of how I felt and was trying to let me down easy), at the moment he was insisting on staying by my side. He kneeled down beside me and pressed his fingers to my wrist, taking my pulse which I’m sure accelerated upon feeling his touch.

The room spun thanks to a combination of exhaustion, alcohol, and anxiety, and to make matters worse Zyglavis was not leaving my field of vision. Being blissfully unaware of what I was thinking, he continued to rile me up as let go of my arm and casually went to tie his long hair back up, all the while droplets of water running down his picture perfect body.

All the men in this world had muscular, male model-esque physiques yet somehow I was always caught off guard upon seeing them in the flesh. With Zyglavis, I hated how casual he was about it all, continuing to speak with me uninterested in the fact that our bodies were very much exposed to each other.

The towel that currently kept me decent, covered me starting at my breasts and ended a few inches below my butt. It was shorter than even the shortest miniskirt, and with only a thin piece of fabric around his waist, I couldn’t believe that he was so unaffected by it all. His cavalier attitude towards the situation only made me feel ashamed at that fact that I couldn’t seem to control my lustful thoughts towards him.

To make matters worse, he kept touching my forehead intermittently as he tried to determine if I was feverish or not. Every time his hand came in contact with my bare skin, I felt a my temperature spike once more and my heart rate increase. I felt as if I were being punished for my misdeeds with the men in this world, and after what felt like an eternity, I finally had to put a stop to it.

“Dear God, please stop touching me!” I exclaimed, not being able to endure his platonic touch for a second longer.

I’d meant “Dear God” in the sense of “Jesus Christ” or “Good Lord” as I’d often said back home, but my outburst was interpreted incorrectly by a man who was in fact a God.

His eyes widened and he pulled away, clearly blushing as a result of what I’d said. It was as if he finally saw things the way I did, and with a snap, we were both fully dry and clothed, and with another we were back in his room.

“I apologize Ami Mizuno,” he said standing over me as I lay in his bed. “It did not occur to me that you consider me so dear that my touch would trouble you.”

“I didn’t…”

He ignored my attempt to cut him off and continued to chastise himself, “I’d all but forgotten about your confession the other day. It was cruel of me to toy with you like that but I was truly unaware as to how you felt.”

He bowed before me and I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

My poor choice in phrasing had caused me to accidentally confess my love for him. I figured that since it was out in the open, there was no real point in backtracking. Even if I were to deny how I felt about him, it wouldn’t really accomplish anything. I did in fact like him, and at least now maybe he’d exercise a bit more restraint in my presence, at least for my sake.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I know you’re not interested in me.”

“You’re a human. I’m a God.”

“I know,” I said sadly as he confirmed everything I already knew, “and soon enough we’ll be out of each other’s lives. Let’s just forget this ever happened and we’ll talk in the morning.”

I couldn’t bear to look at him, so I just rolled over and squeezed my eyes shut.

I heard a snap and the light in the room faded, followed by another snap which indicated to me that Zyglavis had left the room without saying so much as good night.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit lonely knowing that the night before he’d stayed with me until I’d fallen asleep, and in the course of a day I’d managed to ruin everything. It was comical, really, that it had only taken me a day to fall for him the amount that I had. If a day of ambiguity caused me to like him this much, two or three days would certainly have led to heartbreak.

It was for the best that I knew how he felt, even though my stupid heart didn’t seem to know that.

The speed in which this world caused me to fall for the men who inhabited it had me tossing and turning into the night.

Truthfully, my pride was a bit wounded, and I was incredibly embarrassed by my sophomoric behavior towards Zyglavis. I’d handled the situation immaturely, and I tortured myself by replaying the events of the day over and over again in my mind as I forced myself to relieve my own bad behavior. I couldn’t imagine how Zyglavis must have felt when he realized how much of a lech I was. I’d been so overtaken by lust that I couldn’t handle having him touch me (albeit completely non-sexually) while engaging him in simple conversation.

I let out a loud audible groan as I covered my face with my pillow, not wanting to think about how he viewed me, yet unable to escape my negative thoughts.

Finding myself wide awake and wanting nothing more than a distraction from how utterly humiliated I was, I sat up and took out my phone that was in my clutch on the nightstand beside me. I hadn’t checked it for hours, and was surprised to find that I had TalkTime messages from Sakiko and Shunichiro.

Sakiko’s message informed me that Eisuke had been asking about me, and that she had let him know about the event. She apologized in advance, clearly worried that she had caused a bit of trouble for me. Her text also indicated that she was under the impression that Eisuke and I were romantically linked, which caused me to chuckle as I thought about how obviously incompatible we were with each other.

I responded by squashing any lingering ideas surrounding Eisuke and I being affectionate with each other, and let her know that I appreciated the heads up and hoped to see her again soon. Considering it was one in the morning, I wasn’t surprised that my message went unread, and opened Shun’s next.

“How was your matchmaking party? Did you meet prince charming?”

I couldn’t help but smile. If only Shun knew the disaster my night had been.

That said, I obviously wasn’t about to tell him anything and instead wrote, “Boring. How was the rest of your night?”

I was going to open FriendFind, under the assumption that he too was asleep, but saw that he was typing a response and waited patiently, happy to finally have a distraction from the horror film that was currently looping in my mind.

“Boring,” he replied. “I’m selfishly very happy to hear that no one swept you off your feet.”

My deflated ego was starting to recover, and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for his next message.

“I guess that really does make me a bad boss…”

Shun had skillfully left the ball in my court as he danced around what we both knew he was saying.

That message was the kind of message a man sends early in the morning, when his bed is empty and he’s looking for someone to fill it. The ellipse in his message was an open invitation to make him the bad boss he was implying he already was, and admittedly, the part inside me that currently felt undesirable was urging me to play with fire a bit in attempt to feel better about myself.

My impulsive side took over for a moment, and I found myself standing at my underwear drawer looking at the tiny, silk thong Tauxolouve had gifted me a few weeks back. I could change into this, call a cab, and spend the night in a room that was void of the man who moments earlier had wounded my heart.

Conflicted, I stood there holding the thong, and had it not been for that stupid knit hat, I probably would have gone. After all, Shun was incredibly attractive, but seeing that dumb hat I’d brought with me to this world reminded me that I had to resist his advances.

Tonight was simply not the night for that.

Regardless of how bruised my ego was, I’d made myself a promise to try and get home before I resigned to living the rest of my life here. Part of that meant following through with my plan, and if I were to bed Shun it would no doubt distract me from my main purpose.

I still didn’t know if Iori had been the one to find me, nor if the place I’d arrived in this world could help me get home. There were still questions that I needed to answer, and until I did that, I had to behave myself. After all, should it become clear that I was indeed stuck in this world, there’d be plenty of time to engage in a downward spiral with as many men as I pleased.

I put the thong next to the knit hat, so I’d be reminded of what mattered the next time I wanted to pursue a bad idea, and decided to send an ambiguous reply back to Shun that walked the line of flirtatious but also polite.

“Don’t you have work tomorrow? You really will be a bad boss if you don’t get enough sleep...”

I half expected him to reply with some over the top response about how if we spent the night together there’d be little sleeping, but instead he just sent, “You’re right. Very responsible ;) Good night.”

I wished him a good night as well, and put the phone away before I could change my mind.

In addition to not pursuing things with Shun until my future was a bit clearer, I still clung to the one in a million chance Zyglavis might one day feel the same way I did. Since getting home was my first priority, I planned to work with him as professionally as I could with the hope that if I did end up stuck here, I’d have weaseled my way into his heart during our time together.

I had decided that I would not push him to like me, or try and be someone other than the person that I was. I promised myself that if I did end up finding my way home, I would try and remember all of this fondly and settle for whatever the reality was between us upon my departure from this world.

As I crawled back into bed, the worst case scenario flashed through my mind.

I closed my eyes and pictured a life where I was trapped in this world, working at Addison & Rhodes, and using the severance from Soryu in order to move out of the God’s mansion. Being apart from him would help me get over my crush on Zyglavis who (worst case scenario) saw me as nothing more than a friend. As I realized that this potential future didn’t seem that bad after all, I found myself feeling surprisingly peaceful.

It was yet another reminder that no matter what happened, I would be ok and before I knew it, the fatigue I felt earlier in the night returned, and I was fast asleep.

“Ami Mizuno.”

I groaned, not wanting to wake up.

“Amy Mizuno!”

“Go away…”

I kept my eyes shut, as I rolled away from his voice and heard him let out an irritated groan. I listened to his footsteps which came closer to the bed. I opened my eyes a crack and in my peripheral vision watched as he reached out to touch me, before pausing and then retracting his outstretched hand. He sighed once more and his footsteps retreated.

“Five more minutes,” he muttered, “but then I’m expecting you to get up.”

He snapped his fingers, and I knew he was gone.

Even in my partially conscious state, it was clear that Zyglavis was worried about touching me. His actions made my heart hurt a bit, and I felt more grumpy than usual after not getting enough sleep. Involuntarily I found my bottom lip was quivering as it sunk in that I still really liked someone who didn’t like me back.

Using the five minutes of solitude that he’d gifted me, I fought the urge to cry and made the decision that I was going to be mature about the situation. I would be on my best behavior, and would dedicate myself to getting the answers I needed.

I quickly got dressed in the clothes that I’d arrived in, including the knit hat which had acted as an anchor of sorts when it looked as if I were about to lose my way in this world.

Zyglavis returned exactly five minutes later and seemed surprised when I’d greeted him with a cheerful, “Good morning”.

He watched on with a dubious expression as I excused myself to go to the bathroom and freshen up. Upon returning, I managed to keep the charade going, happily accepting another of Zyglavis’ lattes before sitting with him in Operation GTFO HQ as we filled each other in on what had happened the previous day.

Before long I found that I’d forgotten I was pretending, and just spoke with him normally like I had in the past.

I filled him in on Eisuke crashing the matchmaking party as well as the note and check Soryu had left me. I made it clear that none of the liars at the party should have any inclination that I liked them in return, and that I had done as he’d instructed and rejected all of them from the onset.

The last thing I knew I needed to confess was the fact that I’d run into Shun and the other men from Addison & Rhodes. I assured him that while I had in fact engaged in a bit of harmless flirtation with Shunichiro, I hadn’t allowed it to escalate. I even went so far as to offer to show him our TalkTime messages from the early morning in which I’d managed to gracefully remove myself from what was usually a precarious situation for me.

He seemed to be pleased and he expressed that he appreciated the fact that I was cooperating with him to the extent that I was. I was just about to reveal the fact that I suspected Iori Enjo was the key to finding out where I’d appeared in this world when he changed the subject to a topic I was certain he’d avoid entirely.

“About last night,” he said avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly cutting him off. “I meant what I said though - let’s pretend it never happened. After all, we’re trying to get me home. That’s what matters right now.”

Zyglavis smiled at me in a way which indicated he saw right through me, but appreciated what I was doing nonetheless.

“That’s surprisingly reasonable of you.”

“Hey! I can be reasonable.”

He continued to tease me, but forgetting his concerns earlier, reached out and gently removed my knit hat so he could tousle my hair affectionately. I was happy that he touched me once more without trepidation, and I selfishly knew that even though it would soon come to an end, I wanted just a little more time with him like this.

So with that in mind, I held out my hand and said, “Shall go to Maison du Mont?”

I could tell him all about Iori Enjo and Revance later.

At this point, so much time had passed since my arrival that I found it unlikely a day or two would be the reason I was unable to return home. I would stand beside him, until ever suspect (excluding the men of Revance) was checked off my list, clinging to the hope that he might change his mind about me during our time together.

Zyglavis put my stupid knit hat back on my head with a small smile. From there, he gently took my hand in his, and with a snap we were on our way.

[tobiologist]

the simple pleasures

Gintoki/Katsura // canon divergent // 1.8k+ // sfw

Summary: “’Don’t you have a terrorist group to be leading?’ Gintoki sighs. ‘Or some idiot Shinsengumi officers to be avoiding?’

Katsura can’t help the gasp that slips past his lips. He isn’t sure what exactly gives him the idea but excitement overwhelms him. And, without a second thought, he reaches out to snag Gintoki’s wrist. ‘The sakura!’”

or: All Katsura wants is to watch the sakura blossoms and have a talk with an old friend

Katsura, for the most part, is a man of simple pleasures.

Rather, he is easily pleased. At least that’s what he likes to think, and this situation is no exception.

>> READ THE REST ON AO3 <<

If he’s being completely honest with himself, he and Gintoki aren’t as close as they used to be. The plights of battle truly brought them together, all those years ago—misery loves company, as the saying goes—and Katsura struggled when the bonds they’d formed in war gradually crumbled around him. Memories of their time together slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, irretrievable.

This realization came to Katsura slowly but, when it eventually did soak in, he learned to savor the little wonders in life.

Any run in with Gintoki was certainly better than nothing. The familiar tuft of silver-white hair and lips set in an indifferent line, half-lidded eyes staring into the distance. There was no mistaking the white yukata, blue swirls curling around the bottom and hem of his sleeves, and the worn black boots. Katsura could easily spot his old companion from a mile away.

This morning just so happened to be one of those happy coincidences.

“Gintoki!” Katsura lifts a hand into the air, attempting to flag Gintoki down. “Over here!”

Gintoki freezes in his tracks, Sadaharu at his side looking equally bored with their current outing. His gaze falls right on Katsura and—he turns on his heels and sets off in the other direction.

This man… Katsura huffs and quickens his pace. “Keep up, Elizabeth,” he whispers to his friend who, predictably, follows. It thankfully doesn’t take long for Katsura to catch up, and he assumes his place at Gintoki’s other side, flashing a triumphant grin.

“Taking the pet out for a stroll, I see?” Katsura prompts. He swears Sadaharu gives him an annoyed ‘is this guy for real?’ look but Katsura chalks it up to his imagination. “I had the same idea!”

Elizabeth practically shoves their sign in Katsura’s face. I’m not some pet you take on walks!

“You have to take them out or they start to get anxious. Being trapped inside that stuffy hideout all day is no good for Elizabeth.”

Another sign, brandished with obvious frustration. If anything, you’re the pet, and I’m taking you out for a piss!

“This isn’t a walk, Zura,” Gintoki finally chimes in. “I’m sightseeing.”

“Sightseeing?” Katsura has always found Gintoki’s sense of humor to be strange. “Ah, yes, ‘sightseeing.’ Where are the other two then? Where’s Leader?”

“They were too busy.”

“And what could you possibly be looking for around here, Gintoki?”

“Something… important.”

“I suppose it’s for a job.”

“Don’t you have a terrorist group to be leading?” Gintoki sighs. “Or some idiot Shinsengumi officers to be avoiding?”

Katsura can’t help the gasp that slips past his lips. He isn’t sure what exactly gives him the idea but excitement overwhelms him. And, without a second thought, he reaches out to snag Gintoki’s wrist. “The sakura!”

Gintoki clicks his tongue but doesn’t try to pull away. “What the hell are you on about? You’ve got something stuck in that wig of yours again?”

“I know the perfect place!”

“You can’t seriously be thinking—“

“We need to hurry,” Katsura insists, tugging harder on Gintoki. He rounds the next corner and drags Gintoki along with him, destination clear as day in his mind.

To his surprise, Gintoki remains quiet as they quickly make their way to the viewing place. They jog through alleyway after alleyway, passing several curious bystanders along the way. Most probably recognize Gintoki, and an indescribable surge of pride rushes through Katsura at the thought. He is the sort of man who deserves every bit of appreciation. Elizabeth and Sadaharu continue to follow along—albeit reluctantly—and Elizabeth has the decency not to ask questions. They know Katsura well enough at this point to guess his intentions.

As they enter the clearing, Katsura feels his lips quirk into a grin. Laughter rises up his throat, and he yanks Gintoki the last few feet before claiming a place at the base of one of the trees. He picks one the farthest away from the other visitors. The hat secured to his head hides his face from any wandering eyes, but he can never be too sure.

Gintoki drops to the ground with a snort. Elizabeth and Sadaharu exchange a Look before choosing to circle around and sit on the opposite side of the trunk. Tucking his legs underneath him, Katsura makes himself comfortable and—oh. He’s still holding Gintoki.

Except, rather than holding his wrist, at some point during their rushed journey, his hand slipped and his fingers were now interlocked with Gintoki’s.

Immediately, Katsura lets go, jerking away as if shocked. Gintoki has yet to move his own hand and stares, brows furrowed, at his now free fingers. Katsura stifles the urge to place his hand over Gintoki’s and awkwardly sets his hands in his lap.

For a few seconds, no one says a word.

It’s a tad uncomfortable but that’s to be expected. They don’t talk like they used to. Katsura kept track of the years, the months, the number of days, he and Gintoki had been apart before he discovered they both lived in Edo.

Katsura remembered everything.

The time he miscalculated the size of the enemy army, and the four generals were forced to share a tent after losing far more man than they’d intended. Gintoki, warm and sure, at his back as Katsura drifted off to sleep, lulled by the soft rise and fall of Gintoki’s chest, by the crickets chirping just outside. It’s possible none of them actually slept, but Katsura felt well-rested the next morning nevertheless.

The time Katsura got hurt, and Gintoki nervously paced outside of his tent for several hours, until someone managed to stitch up the wounds. Afterwards, Gintoki swore up and down he only stayed nearby because he didn’t want to lose one of the generals. He said it would be hard to appoint another commanding officer. Takasugi politely responded to Gintoki’s explanation by saying, “You are such a fucking liar.”

The time Sakamoto and Gintoki got lost in the Red Light district in between fights. Katsura and Takasugi had been the ones to retrieve the two of them, reasonably upset with the other generals’ behavior. When they made it back to camp, Sakamoto pulled Katsura aside and told him Gintoki accidentally called a woman ‘Katsura’ while they were together. But Sakamoto was known for his ridiculous stories.

The time they drank a little too much after a particularly grueling skirmish. Katsura found himself gravitating toward Gintoki as they gathered around the fire. The pressure of an arm across his shoulders, later around his waist, had grounded him in that moment. A mental image, startling in its clarity, of his and Gintoki’s life after the war. He’d imagined them as inseparable, steady, a force of nature not a single person could stop. He’d also imagined what Gintoki’s lips would feel like and—and that night had certainly changed everything.

The time Takasugi nearly died. The time Sakamoto nearly died and the countless occasions Gintoki nearly died.

Katsura locked each memory deep in the recesses of his mind, hoping that, regardless of how far apart the four of them grew, he would still have something to remember them by. Beautifully preserved like paintings lining the halls of a museum, Katsura held each one close. Even though they were sometimes gruesome or difficult to accept as the truth, Katsura refused to forget.

“It’s a shame, you know?” Katsura remarks, seemingly out of the blue.

“This? Well, you said it. Not me.”

“No, no, I’m serious, Gintoki. Don’t you ever miss them?”

Gintoki stays quiet, but that comes as no big shock to Katsura.

“We never got the chance to do anything like this together.” Katsura pauses, humming softly under his breath. “Relax.”

“Soldiers don’t relax, Zura.”

“You don’t miss the others,” Katsura rebuts. It’s supposed to be a question but nothing about his tone suggests so.

Silence falls between them and, for a moment, Katsura considers standing and walking away. He’s growing tired of this game. This façade, this forced apathy, makes Katsura feel ill. What happened to Gintoki’s serious side? Not the side that killed thousands of Amanto soldiers, not the side that regards the world with the listless eyes of a dead fish. Katsura longs for the Gintoki who started honest conversations, late into the night, voicing feelings Katsura had no idea he even possessed.

Katsura has—and always will—want the truth.

“I do.”

Gintoki’s voice startles Katsura, heart fluttering in his chest.

“Not often but…” Gintoki purposely keeps his gaze focused on the trees overhead. “Sometimes. It happens less now that—hm.”

“Hm?”

“It’s difficult to forget someone’s wig when you’re forced to see it almost every day.”

A sakura blossom drifts lazily through the air. Turning, turning, it gently lands on Gintoki’s arm, pink standing out against the white of his yukata. Katsura has the strangest urge to reach out and retrieve it.

“Like those grimy old men on the streets who like watching women walk by—the pretty ones? They’re so obvious,” Gintoki rambles, gesturing wildly at their surroundings. “And all of their hair is falling out. So their wigs are even more obvious than their staring.”

Katsura smirks; it’s as close to the truth as he’s going to get. Gintoki may think he’s being subtle, but Katsura has a talent for reading between the lines. Especially when it comes to comrades—especially when it comes to Gintoki.

“Maybe we should get going, Gintoki,” Katsura insists as he climbs to his feet. “I have seen enough for today.” And heard enough.

Gintoki groans loudly and joins him. His arms lift into the air, and he grunts, carefully stretching each. A pleasant little pop follows each twist and turn. Sakura petals stuck to his yukata drift to the ground around him. A couple, however, remain lodged in the thick curls on top of his head. Katsura waits patiently, trying not to stare too hard.

Of course Elizabeth chooses that moment to peek around the tree and quickly scribbles out a response on their sign. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.

“Come now, Gintoki,” Katsura blurts. He swivels around to face the direction from which they came. “Mustn’t keep the boy and Leader waiting.”

A tiny voice in the back of Katsura’s head encourages him to invite Gintoki over. Even if he wants to bring the kids, Katsura wouldn’t care. This is one of the rare occasions he’s met with Gintoki alone—well, mostly alone—and he’d hate to waste even a second of that valuable time.

But Katsura has let himself be selfish for long enough.

He will take what he can get, even if it is only a few minutes of silence and serious conversation. Katsura, you see, is a man of simple pleasures.

[envisiongradnetwork]

Making the most of being on LinkedIn

This is part 2 of Envision Grad Michael’s guide to becomign an All-Star on LinkedIn, you can read part 1 here

Once a sceptic, I have revised my opinion

Once I created my profile in 2013, I let it sit unattended whilst I became deeply absorbed in my university bubble. Reflecting in retrospect, that was a mistake. I saw virtually no returns for those two years of dormancy. Though I had attained ‘All-Star’ status, I was very reluctant to actively use LinkedIn, questioning the benefits that the platform could have on someone in their early career.

Once a sceptic, I have revised my opinion; I now believe it to be an extremely effective tool for gaining access to potential collaborators, making serious decisions about one’s career direction and presenting major career achievements to the world. It has helped me to take up opportunities that are more immediately suited to my intended role as a barrister. As it develops new  and I hope that it can help you to excel too.

The many ways to use LinkedIn

Taking into account the importance of a complete profile, your actual engagement with LinkedIn will determine the external visibility of your profile. Simply put, the more actions that you take, the more likely it is that your updates will appear in the activity feeds of other users, increasing the likelihood of meaningful opportunities!

There are many ways to use LinkedIn, and if you fully immerse yourself in it you will learn what works best for you. It will become intuitive before long and you will feel the benefit of experiential learning. With the proviso that it becomes most effective when it mirrors the length of time that you would spend on other social media platforms, here are a few tips from my own experience:

You should engage with the updates in your LinkedIn stream to keep up to date with your network.

Comment on connections’ articles and write some of your own.

Join groups. You will find like-minded people there that can provide opportunities for you within your industry.

Post your own material and congratulate your network on significant career developments. Like those updates!

LinkedIn and your career

LinkedIn can also provide an understanding of broader strategic decisions to make in your career. You may wish to view the career milestones of leading figures within your industry to understand how they got to their current positions, and plot your path in light of theirs. Doing this has given me a sharp focus on the steps that I need to take to achieve my ideal career, and options that I would not have initially thought of have presented themselves to me.

You might observe that a number of LinkedIn users place the letters “(LION)” after their name. These users deserve a special focus. LION stands for ‘LinkedIn Open Networker’. The designation is not an arrogant assertion of the primacy of the user within the animal kingdom, but a display of receptivity to connect with other users. LIONs that I have observed broadly subscribe to these laws of the LinkedIn jungle:

The size of their network will lift them to the top of the search engines.

Every connection has value and all LinkedIn users can support the growth of their projects.

Successful connections should be followed up by LinkedIn InMails. The LIONs are not afraid to roar.

They show up at the top of search engines and will likely be third-stage connections of most people within your local area (connected to someone that is connected to you). You cannot escape the pride.

I must caution against this primal transformation, however. Becoming a LION has its drawbacks:

LinkedIN recommends that you only connect with people that you know and trust. You may be penalised for not following that policy.Users are given the option to flag requests from people that they do not know, and you may be flagged for following an indiscriminate connection policy. Many recruiters will experience rejection on the platform and suffer penalties under LinkedIn’s algorithms.

The quality of your network is inversely proportional to the number of inactive users in it.Hundreds of weak connections can bring negative inferences about the LinkedIn user. Recruiters often take this view, rehearsing the idiom that “your network is your net worth”.

Accepting all requests will likely lead to the receipt of spam messages.

Though I am not a LION myself, I do send requests to everyone that I interact with professionally (be that in person, over the phone, via social media platforms or through email). Though I do not recommend becoming one, the LION principles will allow you to become a confident and proactive LinkedIn user.

Once you “get” LinkedIn, the dividends can be immediate and striking

We have seen above that taking actions increases the visibility of your profile and ensure that you start to get noticed. There is even an analytics section to demonstrate how your actions are drawing viewers to your profile, and I would highly recommend that you pop into this area from time to time.

I didn't get any results (or indeed, success) from my LinkedIn use until I had used it for a couple of years. 

Baz Luhrmann might even accuse me of taking my own experience, “wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.” He’s probably right to a degree; without a period since university where I have engaged with LinkedIn for at least five minutes every day, I would not be in a position to give advice at all. Once you “get” LinkedIn, the dividends can be immediate and striking.

You might find a project that connections with your level of experience are running. Ask to take part. If you are mystified whilst in position Y about how to get to position X, you can find (and mimic) your industry role models to get to a career space that you want to occupy. You might even find that a ‘LinkedIn-only recruiter’ chances upon your page and helps you in securing a vital Graduate post. 

With that in mind, edit, create and perfect that profile today!