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legolasbadass · 21 days

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Office Hours, Part 31

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague.

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: E

A/N: Hi everyone! It feels like I blinked and suddenly I haven't updated this story in over 7 months, ooops 🙈 I moved abroad and went back to school in September to start a postgraduate degree, so I've had very little time to write over the past few months. I hope you can all forgive me and are still interested in Lorelei and Richard's story! If you are, I've tried to make this chapter extra special... 😈

Before I know it, the spring break is over, and I am drowning in emails, deadlines, and assignments to correct. Thankfully, however, the telltale signs of summer bloom across Oxford as the term unfolds. The air, once crisp, now carries a gentle warmth, accompanied by the hum of bees and the fragrance of blooming flowers along the banks of the River Cherwell, which beckons scholars and locals alike to punting excursions. Days lengthen, inviting late-night strolls through narrow cobblestone streets while the evening sky blends into hues of soft pastels. The fast-approaching exams threaten the leisurely atmosphere of the city, but when I walk through the sunlit streets with Richard’s hand holding onto mine, I feel as though time stands still; there are no exams, no piles of unmarked essays on my desk, and Richard is here, and he is not leaving. Not now. Not ever.

I try to be happy and excited for him—I am—but with each passing day, it becomes harder and harder to imagine being thousands of miles away from each other. But we have many things to look forward to; in a few days, we will officially be on summer holiday, and I will move in with Richard. That is what I need to focus on. His imminent departure looms over us, but it does not change the fact that we love each other and are determined to make this work. A year ago, I was offered a lecturer post at Exeter College. It was more than I had ever dreamed of, and I thought life could not get any better. Little did I know I would meet Richard and fall in love with him. The past few months have been a whirlwind, and it still surprises me how fast things have progressed between Richard and me—how quickly he has come to mean the world to me. The thought of losing him terrifies me, but we have been through so much already, so I have to believe that we can get through this next year.

“Lorelei?” A knock and a familiar rumbling voice pull me back to the present moment.

Richard stands in the doorway to my office, one hand resting against the aged wooden frame as he smiles at me. The unbuttoned collar of his white shirt draws my attention to his throat and the patch of hair peeking through. Just like the first time we met.

“Hey,” I say with a smile.

“Lost track of time?”

“What?”

“It’s half past four.”

“Oh,” I breathe out as I glance at the time on my phone. “Sorry—I completely lost track of time, yeah. Hope you haven’t been waiting for me too long.”

Richard shakes his head as I throw my laptop and notebooks into my bag, then rush to the door, but he blocks the way with his arm. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” I reply, smiling at the concern in his voice. “Just have a lot of things on my mind.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and the tender look in his eyes tells me he is thinking of kissing me, but the hallways are busy with students and professors, all rejoicing at the end of the term.

“Good or bad things?” he asks, his hand lingering on my jaw for a moment longer than it should in this environment.

“A little bit of both,” I reply, but when he merely continues to watch me, I sigh. “There’s still so much to do before the move. I haven’t packed any of my clothes or anything from the kitchen—”

“Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you pack. Don’t worry about that.” I nod and offer him a grateful smile. Then he frowns. “That’s not what’s bothering you.”

Sometimes, I wish he did not know me so well. “It’s just the move combined with research deadlines and all the exams I’ll have to correct in a few days,” I say, not wanting to bring up the true cause of my discomfort. I do not want him to feel guilty—he should be excited about this research opportunity, and he deserves nothing less than my unwavering support. “Have you gotten any news on that flat you were interested in?” I ask a few moments later as I lock the door to my office before walking towards the main staircase, trying to appear unphased.

“Not yet, but it’s still early in Boston so maybe I’ll get some news later.”

“Right,” I say with a smile, but it hits me all over again that we will not only be separated by an ocean but by time as well, and the thought of needing to wait hours for a text or call from him when he wakes up each day claws are my heart.

“So I told Michael about Harvard’s offer.”

“How did he take it?” I ask, knowing this was difficult for him as they have been friends and colleagues for many years.

“He took it well. I mean—it’s not like he could do anything if he didn’t like the idea of me leaving for a year; I’m allowed to take time off from teaching for research. That being said, he told me he was happy for me and that it would be great for the department and the college to have one of their professors working with a famous scholar like Stanley Griffin.”

“Just as great as it is for Harvard to have one of their professors working with you, I imagine,” I say, looking up at him.

Richard chuckles skeptically. “Lorelei, he’s Stanley Griffin.” He speaks the scholar's name almost as if he were talking about Shakespeare himself. “His anthologies are used in most English departments.”

“Well, only one of you is a professor at what is arguably the most prestigious university in the world.”

“I guess,” he replies with a sheepish smile that warms my heart.

The sun burns bright in the sky above the dreaming spires, casting long shadows on the cobblestone beneath our feet as we walk through the main quadrangle toward Broad Street. All around us, students rejoice in their newfound freedom, lounging at cafes, iced coffees in hand, discussing summer plans while cyclists whizz by, their wheels clicking against the cobbled paths.

“I can’t believe it’s so warm and sunny today and we have to spend the whole evening indoors for the staff party,” I groan as I step into Richard’s car, throwing my bag on the backseat.

“We don’t have to go,” he says, closing his door and buckling his seatbelt.

“Of course we have to go.”

“Lorelei, these things tend to be really dull. They call it a party but it’s just a room full of tired academics who’d rather be at home or locked in their offices, and they serve ridiculous canapés that leave you starving at the end of the evening. Although, admittedly, there’s always an open bar.”

“Alright, then let’s stop and get burgers on the way and stay close to the bar for the duration of the not-so-party party.” Richard chuckles as he steers out of the parking spot. “Come on, our presence is expected. And it might be the last time you get to see some of our colleagues before you leave.”

He does not say anything for a while, then he reaches out to squeeze my thigh, and I know he, too, is thinking of the long months of loneliness ahead.

In an attempt to change his mind, I intertwine our fingers and smirk as I say, in a light, sing-songy voice, “I bought a new dress for the occasion that I think you’ll really like. It’s navy, and sleeveless—I just hope it’s not too short…”

Richard shakes his head but fails to hide his smile. “I see what you’re trying to do, sweetheart.” As we stop at a red light, Richard notices my expression and sighs. “Alright, let’s go to the stupid party—but we’re not staying too late.”

***

It took longer than expected to get ready at my flat. Despite agreeing to attend the event, Richard prevented me from getting dressed with languid kisses and lingering caresses, but eventually, we managed to tear ourselves from each other and leave.

The city is submerged in the sun’s golden farewell to the day when Richard and I arrive at an imposing, Jacobean-style mansion near The Queen’s College, and as we walk through the tall wooden doors and into the main hall, I cannot help but gasp and look up at the ceiling high above us, causing Richard to chuckle.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, squeezing my hand as he leads me toward the grand staircase.

I nod. “I think I’d prefer to just walk around the building instead of going to the party,” I begin playfully, but Richard shakes his head.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he says, letting go of my hand to hold my back and push me forward. “You practically dragged me to this thing so you better not leave me for even a second.”

I bite back a smile. “What if I need to go to the loo?”

Richard chuckles. “Okay, you’re not leaving me except to go to the loo.”

The hubbub of conversation and clinking glasses fills the air as we step into the grand room lit by the setting sun and the soft glow of chandeliers hanging from the frescoed ceiling. I spot familiar faces in the crowd while we make our way to the bar, but most people I do not know, so I am grateful for Richard’s reassuring presence, and I already dread having to attend events like these without him next year.

“So here we are,” Richard says dispassionately after we order drinks. “Now do you believe me for saying these things are boring?”

I shake my head in amusement, then bite my lips, suddenly feeling shy.

“What is it, sweetheart? You’re blushing,” he points out with a curious smile.

Hesitantly, I lean in and speak in a soft voice only he can hear. “Would it be less boring if I told you I’m not wearing knickers?”

Richard laughs, but then he catches my eyes and gulps heavily. “Are you—you’re really not—?”

I shake my head, slowly gaining confidence as his eyes darken. He laughs again, the sound deeper and hoarser, telling me exactly how he feels about my styling choice.

“This is a work event!” he playfully chastises me, and I giggle as he brings a hand to my back.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure this party wasn’t too dull for your tastes.”

He smirks. “I now suspect I’ll be feeling unwell or tired rather soon and you’ll have to bring me home earlier than planned.”

“Oh, yes? And how will we spend the rest of the evening once we’re back home?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“Well, for starters, you’ll take off that lovely dress and bend over—”

Heat rises up my neck, and I nearly choke on my drink when, just at that moment, someone calls out to us, forcing us to pull apart suddenly.

“Richard, Lorelei!” Professor Bennett greets us with a kind smile. “I was beginning to wonder if maybe you wouldn’t be joining us.”

Richard glances at me, a cheeky grin illuminating his slightly red face, before turning back to Professor Bennett. “Last-minute outfit crisis,” he replies teasingly, squeezing my waist.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingling in my belly caused by his last words to me.

“And this is what you landed on?” Professor Bennett says playfully as he looks Richard up and down, causing me to laugh.

“Well, not everyone has your fashion sense, Michael,” Richard responds with a chuckle.

“Maybe we should start being evaluated on that; that way, I might stand a chance against you and win the teaching award for once.”

Smiling, I look up at Richard and then back at Professor Bennett. “Richard was voted favourite Professor again?”

“He sure was!” he says, raising his glass to Richard.

“How amazing!” I exclaim, momentarily resting my hand on Richard’s chest. “Congrats, love!”

Richard’s grateful smile is made all the more endearing by the faint blush blooming on his cheeks.

“But don’t tell anyone—I haven’t sent out the official announcement yet.”

Professor Bennett then turns to greet a passing colleague, so I lean into Richard. “I know one person who for sure voted for you,” I whisper with a teasing smile, thinking of Jane Taylor and the stars in her eyes when she speaks to him.

“Shut up,” he responds, though he fails to hide his smirk as he pinches my waist, causing me to giggle.

“Hey, there you are!” Natasha’s familiar voice interrupts us, and I turn to see her squeezing her way around a couple of Ph.D. students. We all greet her, but then she notices Richard and seems to hesitate for a second before she says, “Apparently, congratulations are in order!” Richard smiles shyly. “Working with Stanley Griffin—that’s exciting!”

“Yeah, it is,” Richard replies with a nod, though he momentarily tightens his hold on me.

“I must say, thank God for you, Lorelei,” Professor Bennett begins, causing me to frown in curiosity, “under different circumstances, I’d be worried about losing Richard to Harvard forever, but I know as long as you’re in Oxford, he’ll be coming back,” he says with a fond smile.

I chuckle, then try to come up with a playful response, but I cannot ignore the heaviness in my heart. How can I miss him already when he is still here, holding me tight?

Thankfully, Richard steps in. “Don’t worry, Michael, you won’t even get a chance to miss me. I’ll be coming back periodically to check in on my postgrad students—that sort of thing…”

“Yes, sure. For the students, of course,” Professor Bennett says teasingly, and from the corner of my eyes, I notice Richard staring at me longingly, and heat rises to my cheeks.

As they continue to joke around, Natasha catches my eye and gestures for me to follow her. I reassure Richard I will be right back, then step aside, concerned by the frown on her face.

Once we are far enough from the others, she reached out to caress my arm and asks, “How are you feeling?”

I gulp, suddenly understanding her previous hesitation. “I’m fine.”

She nods slowly, biting on her lower lip. “So he’s leaving for a year…”

I nod, struggling to gather the strength to respond in words.

“That must be really tough for you.”

“Yeah, it is, but… we’ll make it work.”

“So you guys aren’t—aren’t breaking up or anything, are you?”

“Oh, no!”

She lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God! When I heard the news earlier today all I could think of was…” She trails off and laughs nervously. “You guys can make it work. I know you can.”

I smile. “Yeah, I hope so.” Then my smile widens. “Actually, I’m moving in with him.”

“Really?” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up in genuine happiness.

“Yes! We want to make the most of the time we have together before he leaves, and this makes it a little easier to reassure ourselves that we’ll get through this together.”

Natasha nods and squeezes my arm. “I’m so happy for you two!”

“Thanks,” I reply, grateful for her friendship. Then I notice Richard eyeing me from the bar, but before I can say anything, Natasha smiles in understanding.

“Alright, go back to your man,” she teases. “I just really wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll go see if I can find Sarah somewhere.”

I give Natasha a quick hug before making my way back toward Richard, who is now conversing with two men I do not know. As soon as he notices me, he excuses himself from the conversation and, wrapping one arm around my waist, pulls me slightly to the side of the bar, away from prying ears.

“Everything okay?” he asks in concern.

“Yeah, Natasha just wanted to check in and make sure I was alright given… you know…”

Richard nods, then looks down at me with an exaggerated pout. “You left me alone when you said you wouldn’t.”

“So needy,” I tease as I rest a hand against his solid chest, my fingers absently playing with the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “You were talking with Michael so I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, new rule: when we’re at an event and you tell me you’re not wearing any knickers, you have to stay within arm’s reach.”

I burst out laughing, though heat rises to my cheeks at his rumbled words. “Alright, I can abide by that rule.”

“You better.” He smirks before leaning in to kiss me. His lips are soft and warm against mine, sweetened by the wine he has sipped. I can feel passion simmering deep within him, and when I reluctantly pull away sometime later, all too aware of our surroundings, Richard groans quietly. He then takes one quick glance around the room before leaning in conspiringly. “I think we might be able to sneak out of here for a little bit,” he says in a quiet voice, then gulps, and I am momentarily distracted by the movement of his Adam’s apple. “You know, to explore the building like you wanted.”

“Right. To explore the building,” I repeat, smiling innocently. He finishes his drink in one big gulp, then winks as he takes my hand to lead me out of the crowded room.

The sound of our shoes against the polished stone floor echoes through the long hallway as we search for a more private place to continue the evening, failing to contain our laughter as we try door after door, in vain. We have nearly reached the other end of the building when we finally stumble upon an unlocked door. We cast furtive glances around us to make sure we are alone before slipping inside what turns out to be a small reading room with bookshelf-lined walls and a few rows of desks, illuminated only by the lamposts in the street below. The sweet, earthy scent of aged paper and leather-bound tomes fills the air, but then Richard wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, laughter lingering in his eyes, and the familiar smell of his cologne surrounds me. I can still hear echoes of the party in the distance, but it all disappears when, with a soft smile, Richard leans in to rest his forehead against mine. One of his hands is now tangled in my hair, holding the back of my head and pulling me closer as we share our breath, lingering in this moment, allowing ourselves to pretend that the rest of the world does not exist.

When he finally claims my lips in a hungry kiss, I let my eyes flutter close and, standing on my tiptoes, circle my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to me as I drown in his passionate embrace, content to pretend that my only worry is knowing we will eventually need to pull apart for air. We move against each other out of instinct, ignoring the time and place, fuelled by an evening of flirting and lingering touches and our impending separation. He lets go of my lips to trace a path along my jaw, down my neck toward that sensitive spot below my ear, and the warmth of his tongue combined with the rasp of his beard sends heat spiralling down my spine. My hands are now buried in his hair, tugging on the soft curls, and he groans into my neck before reconnecting our lips.

Without breaking the kiss, he effortlessly lifts me into his strong arms and sets me on one of the desks, spreading my legs apart with his body. Already, I ache for him; heat swirls through me, buzzing incessantly between my legs, and when he squeezes my left thigh with one of his large hands, I cannot help but buck towards him and whimper, the desperate sound of desire echoing through the room.

“Be quiet, sweetheart,” Richard murmurs against my lips, and a rush of arousal floods my core.

As his hand slides higher up my thigh and slips under my dress, I cannot help but chuckle. “Are we really doing this?”

Richard grins. “Don’t act innocent; you knew we’d end up in this situation the moment you decided not to wear knickers.” I giggle into the kiss at the deep, unbridled lust coating his words. “I can’t resist you.”

He pulls away just enough to watch my face as he teasingly slides two fingers over my folds, coating me in my arousal. Biting my lips, I wriggle on the desk to grant him better access, and when his fingertips brush against my clit, the whole room seems to pulse with the intensity of the pleasure tingling through me. Richard knows my body by heart now—he knows exactly where and how to touch me to have me panting in his arms in no time. He sets up a languid pace, alternating between drawing circles on my clit and slipping a long finger inside me, only allowing himself to increase the pace when I latch onto his shoulders, my hands pulling on his tweed blazer. My breath hitches in my throat when he slips two fingers inside me, crooking them and almost instantly finding the spot that has me arching my back and whimpering his name. My legs are now wrapped around him, my thighs pressing into him as he catches my mouth, taking the breath from my lungs and the moans from my lips.

My release washes over me in a dizzying wave, pulsing through every fibre of my being, leaving me hot and panting as I cling to Richard while he continues to pleasure me, not stopping until I collapse in his arms. A car horn echoes in the distance, reminding me of our surroundings. Even so, as I look up to meet Richard’s lust-darkened eyes, desire flares in me again, and the warm weight of his hardness pressing into my inner thigh reassures me that this is far from over. Licking my lips, I raise a hand to teasingly caress him through his trousers, revelling in the whimper he fails to hold back. One of his hands returns to my hair, gently tugging as I slowly reach for his belt buckle—

The door creaks open.

In an instant, Richard and I pull apart, and I hasten to tug my dress back in place and press my thighs together just as a security guard steps inside. His eyes flicker between Richard and me, his expression a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

“Er, sorry, guys—this room is supposed to be closed. You can’t be in here.”

Too mortified to speak, I turn to Richard, and he smiles sheepishly at the security guard. “Apologies, we didn’t realize. I was just showing her around.”

The security guard nods, then steps back to let us pass. My face burns as we mumble apologies, but he walks away as quickly as he first appeared, leaving us to stand awkwardly outside the reading room.

“I guess we should stick to our offices,” Richard muses playfully.

My heart still hammering in my chest, I look up at Richard, biting my lip, but then my eyes drift down to the noticeable bulge in his trousers, and I burst out laughing.

“That man certainly won’t be losing any sleep trying to decipher what you meant by ‘showing me around’,” I giggle.

Richard looks down and tries, in vain, to adjust his trousers. “Do you think he noticed?”

“Well, I hope for his sake he doesn’t make a habit of staring at strangers’ crotches. But if he does, then yeah, he definitely noticed.”

“It’s all your fault,” he replies with a grin. Laughing, I wrap my arms around him and look up to meet his tender gaze, but he quickly takes my arms and reasserts a more appropriate distance between us. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” I chuckle as I straighten his blazer, not wanting to let go of him.

“Oh, yes—you look very sorry.”

“How about I make it up to you instead?”

Richard grins. “Does that mean we get to go home?”

“Yeah, I think sneaking away sounds like a good plan.”

The ride back to my flat is filled with stolen glances and lingering touches. As soon as we arrive and lock the door behind us, he pulls me in for a passionate kiss, and I melt in his arms. His touch is tender and possessive, and with each kiss, each caress, we reassert our love for each other, surrounded by the boxes that signal the beginning of our new life together.

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters or added to my tag list, let me know!

#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x you #professor au #office hours

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lya-dustin · 4 months

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A Comedy of Non-mathematical Errors

Prologue

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the eldest Catton is always a maths genius.

Through careful selection of life partners and a regime called the Catton Method, the finances of the Catton Family are always secured through the eldest child for the next generation.

The other children after may be savants like their elder sibling thanks to their genetics and upbringing, but the first born must always be a math genius.

Felix River Catton was not a maths genius no matter how much his poor dear parents tried.

It was not his fault ---nor his mother, Elspeth, having a DPhil in History of Art--- it was the fault of the wretched nanny who kidnapped Michael Cherwell Catton, Felix’s fraternal twin brother when she took him out for a walk and only the overturned pram was found.

Felix’s grandmother had blamed his mother all the same because it was her empathy that led to her hiring a troubled nanny instead of one without a history theft and drug abuse.

No one had expected her to steal a fucking baby especially from his nursery in Saltburn.

Just like that the true heir to Baronetage of Saltburn disappeared from the face of the earth ---and it was the heartlessness their grandmama displayed during their grief that led to Aunt Federica running away to America.

The Catton family would be fucked in the coming recession and no hope seemed to appear on the horizon ---Venetia sadly was not a maths genius either.

That was until Felix saw how outcast Maths student, Michael C. Gavey, ate a crunchie bar on Christmas Eve.

He was tall and blonde and ate a crunchie just as Felix’s father and his little sister, Venetia, do in private due to the strangeness of it. Looked like his mum’s younger brother does, right down to the carabiner on his cargo pants and the glasses.

Could it be that this was his long-lost brother?

There was only one way to find out without Farleigh thinking he’d lost it.

Felix needed to make Michael’s only friend, whatever his name was, his friend and gain an introduction.

A/N: this actually a crack fic fix it au written as if it were a serious fic, if you want a plot that makes sense you may not find it here

Thank you @exitpursuedbyavulcan @elizarbell @apothe-roses for this wonderful idea and the title

#crack fic #saltburn fix it #saltburn au #michael gavey #felix catton #oliver quick

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coochiequeens · 2 months

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I love cats so I couldn't get through the whole article. I just posted it because this is another example of violence by a TIM

By Shay Woulahan February 20, 2024

A trans-identified male in Oxford is currently on trial after being charged with the murder of another man. Scarlet Blake, who was initially reported as being a “woman” by UK media outlets, is said to have murdered Spanish national, Jorge Martin Carreno, and tortured animals.

The jury has heard disturbing audio of Blake sadistically killing his neighbor’s cat and was shown evidence of his sick obsession with violence, pedophiles, and female serial killers. Blake is also said to have fantasized about killing his own parents for refusing to accept his transgender identity, and told a former partner, “I need blood, this is bad.”

The murder of Carreno took place during the early hours of July 25, 2021. Carreno, who worked for BMW and was on a night out with colleagues, suffered blows to his head, was strangled and then drowned in the River Cherwell. A murder investigation was not initially launched after his body was found on July 26 by dog walkers.

Police investigating the discovery did not rule out the possibility of an accident or suicide. However, they recovered CCTV video of Carreno with an unidentified person who police believe he didn’t know before that night. CCTV shows the unidentified suspect searching the streets alone before meeting Carreno, appearing to be on the hunt for a victim.

Scarlet Blake was not arrested for the murder until over two years later in August 2023 following a complex investigation by Thames Valley Police.

Following his arrest, the media began comparing the case to the Netflix documentary series “DON’T F*CK WITH CATS.”

The documentary focuses on the case of transvestite prostitute, Luka Magnotta, who began torturing cats and posting the videos online before escalating to murder. Magnotta drew inspiration for a horrific murder carried out during sexual intercourse from the film Basic Instinct, and reportedly had a fixation with the actress Sharon Stone — going so far as to paint the screwdriver he used as a murder weapon silver in order to resemble the pick axe used in the movie. Online, Magnotta had used the name “Catherine” as a reference to the character Stone portrayed.

The “porn star killer” Magnotta was tracked down in Berlin in 2012 following an international manhunt. Leading up to his arrest, authorities had warned that Magnotta may have disguised himself as a woman, that he frequently wore makeup and dresses, and that he had dyed his hair blonde.

The association between Blake’s crimes and the true crime documentary was made after it was uncovered that only months to the murder, Blake had filmed himself putting a cat in a blender. He reportedly discussed the documentary during a livestream of the brutal animal abuse, and told friends that he desired to kill people in the manner in which he killed cats.

Blake has denied having involvement in the murder of Carreno. He has, however, admitted to stealing his neighbor’s cat, torturing and dissecting it, and putting the animal in a blender. Prosecuting attorneys told Oxford Crown Court that a vet had determined the animal had suffered for a full three minutes or more as its heart was cut out while still alive. The judge told members of the jury that they would not be required to view the video footage.

During one audio excerpt a Blake can be heard saying: “My hands are shaking…I fucking love it…look at that little bitch, I’m pretty sure he’s still alive.”

Blake’s murder trial was launched early this month. The court heard how following the murder, Blake traveled to America to meet his then long-distance girlfriend, Ashlynn Bell, in Colorado. The pair reportedly got into an argument and Blake returned to the UK. After he returned, Bell contacted police to say he had confessed to killing a man. She told police Blake had claimed to have strangled Carreno from behind with a homemade garotte while they leaned against a tree.

During court proceedings, the prosecution showed the jury messages between Blake and Bell where she said he wanted to kill his parents. “I would murder my mum for you…I also want to kill my dad one day…maybe when they are old I can just put a respirator with pure nitrogen on their faces while they sleep.” The messages read. When cross examined, he said the messages were a ‘metaphor’ for them not immediately accepting him as transgender.

Detective Sergeant James Macro from Thames Valley Police reviewed messages exchanged between Bell and Blake.

Blake stated, “Fuck I need blood, what if I’m bipolar,” and “Bitch I kill people because my lover said it would be hot… Last time I found someone this drunk they died.”

Blake denied involvement in the murder, claiming the messages exchanged with Bell were “fantasy for sexual gratification.”

“In short, it’s a fantasy dress-up of saying I’m hurt by the way I was brought up and I’m sad about it,” Blake told the court.

“When I was 12 years old I came out as transgender. That has made my father really unhappy and my mother as well and that caused a very large emotional riff between us… I have a lot of unmet parenthood needs. I feel very forsaken, I suppose,” he continued.

“I always wanted to be a girl. I wasn’t until that age [12] that I realized there were procedures that could be done that would change me from male to female.” He then admitted to beginning taking testosterone blockers at the age of 17 and argued that his physical strength was that of an “unfit female”.

The jury also heard testimony from expert pathologist Dr. Brett Lockyer, who testified that Carreno had suffered a ‘blunt force trauma’ to the back of the head. Lockyer said a vodka bottle ‘used as a weapon’ would have caused the type of injury beneath the skull that he found when carrying out a post-mortem examination.

Financial records show Blake bought a bottle of vodka online prior to the alleged murder. A red bottle top from a Smirnoff vodka bottle was found on the riverbank by Carreno’s body and contained traces of DNA identified as belonging to Blake.

The court also heard how Blake had a sick obsession with violence and female serial killers. Images of nine serial killers were found on his phone, including women who had killed or were accused of killing their own children. The prosecutor, Alison Morgan KC painted a grim picture of Blake while describing his fascination for violence and death, and said he received “sexual gratification” from the graphic content in his possession.

“[Carreno] died because he met a person who had a fixation with violence and with knowing what it would feel like to kill someone.”

“At a time when Mr. Carreno became separated from friends and perhaps lost and vulnerable, Mr. Carreno had the great misfortune of being approached by this defendant in the early hours on July 25 2021.”

“The defendant was out on the streets of Oxford that night looking for a victim. [He] targeted him and took him to Parsons Pleasure, where [he] killed him, leaving his body to be discovered by others over 24 hours later.”

KC Alison Morgan explained that during the police investigation detectives had constructed a profile of Blake’s background. “The prosecution alleges that this defendant had an extreme interest in death and in harm,” she told the jury.

“It was an interest that went beyond mere fantasy. [He] described [himself] to others as being someone who derived sexual gratification from the thought of violence and the thought of death.”

Other images presented to the jury included a photo of handmade garotte fashioned from two metal handles and piano wire. Several other photographs depicted people being strangled. One image titled “First Date” had pictures of duct tape, a knife, rope and a handgun.

Footage recovered from Blake’s device showed him “with one of [his] partners engaging in acts of strangulation, consensually, in a sexualized context.”

Members of the jury were told that Blake “spoke to others about what it would be like to kill someone.”

“[He] looked at imagery and saved it on her devices that showed an interest in ligatures being applied around the neck. [He] talked about harming [himself].”

The trial is set to continue this week.

I really can't comment because I couldn't deal reading about animals being killed. But a fried shared this recently

#UK #Oxford #Rest In Peace Jorge Martin Carreno #A man was a victim of male violence #Rest In Peace those sweet animals #Scarlet Blake is a sick man #KeepPrisonsSingleSex

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merelygifted · 2 months

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Viking sword pulled from River Cherwell authenticated | Oxford Mail

An old Viking sword dating back to as early as the year 850 found by an Oxfordshire magnet fisherman has been authenticated this week.

Trevor Penny stumbled upon the sword last November near Enslow, pulling it from the River Cherwell.

Upon discovery, he reached out to friends and contacts to procure more information on the object.

Mr Penny said: “I wasn’t entirely sure what it was at first. Others confirmed it was certainly very old. Once I got home I immediately contacted the liaison officer.

“I subsequently took it to them in Standlake, and it was provisionally dated. It’s currently still in Witney. It really did feel quite amazing – it’s the oldest thing found in this county magnet fishing.

"The officer said it was archeologically rare to find whole swords and treasure of historical importance still intact. It was a proud moment to find it.”

The sword has since been authenticated as Viking and dated back to between 850 and 975 CE. ...

#Magnet Fishing #Viking swords #Vikings #WHOA

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three-atoms · 1 year

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In Watercolours (HDM/Masriel Fanfic)

Chapter 2: The Fall

The affair starts with an idyllic garden, a serpentine river, a desire for forbidden knowledge, sinful temptations, and a battle of wills

Read on AO3:

Prologue/Chapter 1: The River Cherwell

Chapter 2: The Fall (E, 10 700 words)

#his dark materials #masriel #masriel fic #hdm fanfiction #hdm fic #my fic #asriel x marisa #marisa x asriel #asriel belacqua #marisa coulter #affair era #it bothers me that all the moodboard rows are different sizes #but the pics were different sizes to start with and-#i'm tired so f it this will just have to do #also i think it'll look messed up on some tmblr themes #but it is what it is #🌌🌌🌌

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dinner-at-charlies · 11 months

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Founded in 1458 by William of Waynflete (Bishop of Winchester and Lord Chancellor to King Henry VI), Magdalen College (The President and Fellows of the College of St Mary Magdalen in the University of Oxford), is one of the constituent colleges of the University of Oxford.

The College stands next to the River Cherwell. Its grounds, stretching north and east, are most of the area bounded by Longwall Street, the High Street (where the Porter's Lodge is located), and St Clement's.

The Grove is a large meadow that occupies most of the north-west of the College's grounds. During the winter and spring it's the home of a herd of fallow deer. In the 16th century, long before the introduction of the deer, The Grove consisted of gardens, orchards and bowling greens. During the English Civil War, it was used to house a regiment of Parliamentary soldiers.

The Great Tower was built by William Orchard between 1492 and 1509. In a tradition dating to the days of Henry VII, the choir of Magdalen College sings from the top of it at 6 am on May Morning to the assembled mass of students and townsfolk celebrating in the streets below.

Perhaps the most dramatic period in Magdalen's history came during the reign of James II, when, in 1687, the President of the College died and James twice tried to force the Fellows to accept a President of his choosing. The Fellows refused, and James, losing patience, demanded all those who opposed him be expelled. This act caused national outrage, the courage of the Fellows was praised and the King was much criticised. Late in 1688, James reinstated the expelled Fellows, but it was too late to save him. He was deposed a few weeks later.

Notable alumni include Sir John Betjeman; Thomas Wolsey (later Cardinal Wolsey); T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia); Dudley Moore; and Oscar Wilde.

Famous fictional alumni of Magdalen College include Bertie Wooster (from the long-running series of novels and short stories by P.G. Wodehouse), and Bridey (from Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited)

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junipercreeps · 7 months

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🔖 Day seven - Attacked

When I stumbled out of my room, three of the four adjacent doors were open. Curious glances were fixed on me.

"Did you just scream?" I put on an apologetic look. "Yeah, sorry. A spider."

The girl who had seen me with Alaric earlier was the only one who didn't roll her eyes. She raised a skeptical eyebrow and watched me as I hurried down the hallway, wearing only my bathrobe. In my panic, I had grabbed my running shoes.

The cold of the night hit me like a brick wall the moment I stepped outside, but I didn't have time to put on something more appropriate. After that strange hallucination, I needed to find out where Alaric lived. He owed me answers.

"Hey, are you okay?" I turned around in surprise. In the doorway of my dorm stood the girl who lived opposite me. It was only now that I noticed how pretty she was, with her chestnut hair and the freckles on her nose. "I, um, yeah. Yeah, thanks. Did you know the guy who was just at my place?" She nodded slowly. "Sure, Alaric Blyton. He's been a Molecular Biology tutor since last term." "Do you also know where I can find him?" She scrutinized me. I must have looked terrible, and the shock from the strange visions was still fresh. "He lives off-campus in one of those apartment complexes. I think it's the Sinister House." I nodded. "Thanks," I said and left my neighbor standing in front of our small historic dormitory.

The Sinister House was modern and impressive from the outside. I had jogged past it this afternoon. Some rooms even had a direct view of the green areas surrounding Oxford and the Cherwell River.

When I arrived in front of the building, I was freezing. My muscles were desperately trying to signal that my bathrobe was not suitable for this night. Where should I look for him? Just walk down every corridor, hoping to find him? Were there names on the doors like in our dormitory?

In the lobby, the soft night lights were on. It was dead quiet, except for my loud breathing due to the rush. Just before I took the stairs to the first floor, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Can I help you?" In front of me stood a woman in a beautiful charcoal trench coat. Her dark hair shone in the dim light of the lobby. She immediately reminded me of a modern version of Snow White. Only now did I realize how foolish I must have looked with my bathrobe, my hastily put on running shoes, and my wild, uncombed hair loosely tied in a braid at the nape of my neck.

"I'm looking for Alaric," I said softly. "That doesn't surprise me," replied the stranger and briefly looked past me as if to make sure no one else was there. "What's your name?" she asked, took off her pretty gloves, and approached me. Her perfume wafted towards me, a gentle scent of lemons and flowers enveloping me. "June. Please... I need to find Alaric." "No. You think you have to find him, but not only Samuin can explain what's going on with you." She whispered urgently, and a look of surprise appeared on my face. "There's a lot to explain, June. But not here. Not now. Go back to -" "Ophelia!" We both jumped at the same time. On the stairs behind us stood Audrey's brother, Corbin. He looked ridiculously handsome in his pajama pants and an open pajama shirt. His caramel-blond hair immediately reminded me of Audrey's, like the back of her head, which I had observed for several minutes.

Ophelia pointed at me. "Alaric's new toy?" She was a completely different person now. He laughed. She looked deep into my eyes for a brief moment and shook her head almost imperceptibly, as if she wanted to tell me that our conversation had never taken place. "Sweetie, you need to go to the sixth floor. The room at the end of the hallway. 721," Corbin said and walked past me without acknowledging me. "I missed you. Can you stop studying until late at night already? We haven't seen each other all summer." he said to Ophelia. They hugged each other warmly, and I replied almost silently, "Okay, thanks." Then I walked away towards the stairs.

It wasn't until the second floor, after I had cursed the stairs and my frozen limbs, that I noticed the elevator and gratefully stepped inside.

The sixth floor was dark until I entered it and triggered a motion sensor with its gentle night light that now illuminated the hallway.

711

713

715

717

719

721

The doors to the rooms with even numbers were opposite each other. The hallways were quite long considering the number of rooms, but from the outside, I had already noticed how spacious all the balconies were. These apartments must be much more expensive than my private room in the middle of Oxford's colleges.

I hesitated and looked down the hallway again before knocking softly. It didn't take ten seconds before I heard movement in the room. Alaric opened the door in dark blue silk pyjama pants and looked down at me as if he had known I would show up. Still he asked:

"What’s wrong? Do you want to come in?" I nodded, and he stepped aside. "What did you see?" he asked as he closed the door behind us. "What did you gave me?" I wanted to know before I answered any more questions from him or anyone else from Samuin. "Tramadol." "But...I..." I stammered and rubbed my eyes. "June, what did you see? A forest? The stone circle? Did you see the Tree of Jaga?" He seemed excited, almost curious, like a child wanting to know what it would get for Christmas. I hugged myself because I was still cold. "I saw a woman. An old woman. Her hands were...mine and..." I lacked the words. Alaric opened his mouth to say something and then shook his head. "Audrey won't like this at all." he whispered and went to his bed. His apartment was huge, at least four times the size of my private dorm room. He had a small kitchenette and a king-size bed, from which he had just taken a sweater and tossed it to me. A moment later, he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of jogging pants that would be much too big for me. Still, he threw them to me. "Put this on. You're freezing." That was true, but I still said, "Not necessary." "You want answers?" I nodded slowly. "Good. Then put it on!" he said firmly. He had the decency to turn away and look out of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his apartment. Oxford by night was beautiful. The view from the Sinister House was beautiful. "Okay, done," I said softly, holding my bathrobe tightly around me. Alaric's clothes were warm and smelled of detergent and a gentle perfume. My running shoes were placed next to the counter in his small kitchen. His carpet felt soft and homely under my bare feet. The sweater had obviously been worn, and I almost closed my eyes because it felt like the closest thing to a hug. I hadn't felt so much physical closeness in months.

"You saw the Mother of the Night," Alaric said as he sat down in the middle of his bed. My head was pounding, and fatigue kept overcoming me, but the warmth of the clothes didn't let me think any clearer. "You need to start from the beginning. I don't know anything," I said honestly, and he looked confused. "What do you mean? You don't know anything?" I looked at the bed. "May I sit down?" "Of course." So I sat down and stared at my hands, which were now back to being my own. "I don't know what all of this means. Your weird ritual. This hallucination. I know nothing. My parents just told me that I would be joining the same student society as they did back then." Alaric chuckled. Not out of amusement, but surprise. I could feel that. "Student society? June, we're a coven. This fraternity stuff is just a cover." I looked at him, puzzled. "Are you serious? You don't know who your family is? You've never wondered why you're a loner, having trouble making friends since puberty? Why people have been avoiding you?" I had no answer to that because I had, of course, asked myself all these questions, but I wasn't aware that there was a logical answer to them. Except maybe that I was just strange. "Wow, your parents must be real assholes not to tell their daughter that she belongs to one of the largest witch covens in the UK." And this statement felt like an attack. An attack on the trust relationship between me and my parents. A relationship that apparently didn't exist.

#angstober #angstober 2023 #writing challenge #dark academia #inktober #writing prompt #dark aesthetic #writing

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prose2passion · 10 months

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impressionist views of Oxford's annual Madrigals on the River event now on my flickr

#oxford #my photos #flickr #river cherwell #punting #early music

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more-than-a-princess · 9 months

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@quickdeaths asked: ( behind you ) sender hugs the receiver from behind - shinobu is visiting during a university holiday, they both need one (1) soft, private moment

Let's Cuddle RP prompts - Accepting!

The benches at Magdalen College by the River Cherwell weren't often a destination for Oxford students that time of year, which made them an excellent place for Sonia to spend her morning. Being a full-time student and part-time working royal, flexibility came with the territory: though instead of seasonal speeches, festivals, and holidays, Sonia had negotiated a week off from the autumn term for an entirely different reason that year. A feat, as the third year program of the Philosophy, Politics, and Economics concentration was traditionally a grueling one for its students.

But it was important, Sonia thought, as she turned the page in the novel she was reading. Her fellow Magdalen College students were busy with lectures and tutorials, and here she was, indulging in the first non-school book since the summer holidays. But concentrating on economic history textbooks was out of the question, as she tapped the heel of her left boot against the gravel beneath it. She was killing time that November morning, and not even the late autumn breeze and the threat of an afternoon rain could distract her. With her cheeks and fingers both pink and numb from the cold, she turned the page.

The initial touch against her shoulders, clad in a blouse and heavy coat but a touch nevertheless, had been enough to startle her, her posture instantly straightening. And yet, the four personal protection officers she was required to have nearby at all times upon exiting her condo hadn't so much as flinched, much less rushed to her aid as a pair of black jacket-covered arms wrapped themselves around her.

"Don't be alarmed, Sonia."

Sonia. Sonia. A name that a person, her person, with that voice would use only when they were assured privacy. Even before Shinobu had spoken, a deep breath to steady her nerves had been all Sonia had needed to understand who it was who touched her, then held her, without even turning to look. The scent of the river and crushed leaves had given way to white cedar, cypress, tonka bean, and amber, the perfume she'd remembered testing on a swatch card before dabbing it on the inside of Shinobu's wrist during their third year at Hope's Peak. A step up from Donki, they'd gone to the luxury cosmetics shop on a day that hadn't been particularly busy: one that had permitted the privacy of, in the middle of one of the many perfume aisles, for Sonia to take Shinobu's hand in her own and kiss the inside of her wrist. That had been it, she'd told her at the time: that would be the fragrance she would gift to her. Calming and subtle and elegant, from the black and white bottle to the scent itself.

"I am not alarmed," She smiled softly, one that Shinobu likely couldn't see. Her book, left forgotten in her lap, had been replaced with Shinobu's hands. She too had gone without gloves, and Sonia reached up to set her hands over hers, fingers tracing over her palms and fingertips. These hands, she couldn't help but notice, were such a contrast from the Ultimate Archer's: constant training and constant stress, in spite of the various protective gear she'd worn, had left Shinobu's hands slightly rough and tight beneath Sonia's touch in high school. For as often as the woman took her hands back then, well before the both of them had realized what they were to one another, there had always been a degree of firmness, of tightly-coiled stress from the expectations the world had seemingly placed on Shinobu's shoulders. To be the best archer, the best date, the best Cold Prince Shinobu-Kun, a fitting heir to the Yaguchi Dojo and a sexual fantasy for so many girls who never stopped and paused and tried to understand that there was a woman, full of thoughts and interests and opinions, beneath the perfectly-tailored suits and stern gaze. Now, her hands felt...softer, gentle, even without Sonia's to hold every day. Sonia exhaled, content: her girlfriend, her Shinobu, had friends, had studies of her own choosing, had a life she built for herself. The distance was, admittedly, a challenge, but feeling how much her new life had changed her for the better was worth it.

"I was tracking your plane from Narita on Flight Aware," She admitted. There was no point in hiding it from her anyhow: she'd tell soon enough that Sonia had been up since four in the morning, checking to ensure Shinobu's plane had arrived safely at London Heathrow. And that, upon her SMS messages, she'd caught the train safely to London Paddington before transferring to the right train to Oxford station. She'd offered to send a car, but Shinobu had politely declined. "I am glad you arrived safely, and that you were able to drop your luggage at the condo and- Oh, piss it-"

Rising to her feet in a sweeping motion of wool plaid skirt and tan overcoat, the book fell to the ground as Sonia turned, shins against the bench, to finally see her. A little tired, as an overnight flight from Tokyo to London would cause, but the Shinobu she remembered: her dark red hair, her glasses, her eyeliner so sharp that it could cut someone if they got too close against her will. Sonia grinned: in playfulness, in relief. Shinobu Yaguchi, Princess Sonia's friend, had been warmly invited and accepted at the Novoselic fall holiday gatherings that, each year, concluded with the annual masquerade ball and the Princess's birthday celebration. But Shinobu Yaguchi, Princess Sonia's girlfriend, had not: another year, another row with her parents about wanting to set aside all of the faux-dates and required dances with the sons of the rich, titled, and powerful in order to live an honest life on her terms. Her 18th birthday and societal debut had been such a success that, even now, words like 'phase' and 'rebellion' and 'experimentation' were still tossed around by her family as she was well into her third year at university.

Except that hadn't changed: the phase her family still hoped for had been constant, Sonia's feelings for Shinobu just as strong, if not more intense, as they'd been during her final year at Hope's Peak. The young men she was forced to smile and laugh and dance and dine with in public either understood completely or had secret relationships of their own that their families didn't approve of, and thus the laughter caught on camera was always commiseration: a boyfriend he wasn't allowed to have, a girlfriend outside of his social class or appropriate age range, and the ridiculousness of it all.

But this smile, this was genuine and always reserved for Shinobu and Shinobu alone: a mix of adoration and a desire to bend the rules, just a little, as she saw fit. Taking Shinobu's tie in her fist, Sonia gently pulled her closer, forcing her to lean over the bench just so in order to capture her lips with hers. A quiet path by the river and no warnings from her PPOs: it was the perfect opportunity to kiss Shinobu in the place she'd eagerly taken her to during her first springtime visit: naturally, she'd wanted to show her some of the fish that called the Cherwell home, amongst the many punters and rowers.

Warm and welcoming, Sonia closed her eyes yet kept a hold on Shinobu's tie: to keep her from pulling away, from worrying they might be seen. To trust her that they were safe, at the water's edge so close to Shinobu's birthday. It was the present both of them had wanted: to spend it together, and it had been Shinobu who had been blessed with the university break. Sonia simply made it work, so she could kiss her with all the longing and love that she'd kept safely stored within her. That every time she laughed, or danced, or looked up at the stars or down into the many ponds and the rivers that ran through Oxford, she imagined doing so with Shinobu by her side. Even her chocolate birthday cake from that year's ball had tasted a little less sweet without her by her side, pushing her piece of cake onto Sonia's plate in favor of a cup of coffee.

Coffee....coffee...

By then, Sonia's tongue had begun to explore Shinobu's mouth, falling into an easy sort of intimacy. No longer awkward to kiss her this deeply and passionately without a care, she could taste the familiar scents of asian pear and yuzu on her lips, her favored lip balm, but not the other common taste that so often occupied Shinobu's mouth. Pulling away and raising her eyebrows in surprise, Sonia pressed two quick kisses in succession to Shinobu's lips, just to be sure.

"You have not had coffee yet, have you," She chuckled, reaching up to brush some of her red hair out of her face. "Unfortunately we would have to go to London for your favorite canned coffee, but allow me to treat you to an early lunch with a coffee at the Grand. Before your jet lag catches up with you and we will not wish to leave the apartment. I am so happy you are here to spend your birthday!" The jet lag, most likely, would be the appropriate excuse given after filling their bellies and disappearing into Sonia's rented condo for the duration of the afternoon. Possibly the evening and well into the night, unless they needed a break for dinner.

#more-than-a-princess answered #quickdeaths #Non-Despair AU: University verse #cw: homophobia #(Let's Cuddle RP prompts meme)#(Sorry for the wait! I hope this was worth it)#(Just had pain/fatigue/writers block recently)

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