#the oxford series

[spiritusloci]

Two Men Kissing 22 (2024)

[donotnomi]

🎉GREAT NEWS for Slow Horses and Mick Herron fans! 🎉 AppleTV+ is working on a TV adaptation of The Oxford Series, another book series by Mick Herron, author of Slow Horses!

[matthewsblue]

How's one to know?

I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones

In a faith forgotten land

[teatitty]

Burdened with the knowledge that bards as a profession have celtic origins and given that The Witcher is set in the 1200's when this would still be true it means Dandelion himself is probably either of celtic birth or education but nobody outside of me probably gives a fuck about that [he also operates more like a celtic bard than a modern one we won't get into all that though] basically what I'm saying is that Dandelion is Welsh to me thank you for listening

[cutestkilla]

Tea for (more than) Two

So, in a delightful turn of events, I recently got together with some pals who are also TOTALLY NORMAL about Carry On. And we did our best to replicate afternoon tea at Lady Ruth’s house. And I thought it would be kinda fun to share the results (and some recipes, which are at the end under the cut). So, here they are, featuring:

Scones! (Sour cherry, ofc.)

Cake! (Chocolate with Chocolate-Orange Buttercream featuring a super respectful remembrance, Lemon Drizzle, and Classic Victoria Sandwich.)

Lavender Earl Grey shortbread cookies!

Finger sandwiches! (Egg & cress, Lemon and prawn, Caprese on focaccia, and Coronation chicken - all on freshly baked bread.)

A selection of teas! (Including Simon's Sour Cherry looseleaf blend, Simon Snow Tea, some proper English Breakfast, and of course Earl Grey.)

A giant slab of butter! (Fancy butter.)

A basil plant!

A crucible!

A sword through the table!

Special cameos by a Watford goat (wings hidden) and Prof. Minos (tiny fluffy edition)!

Sadly, no tea trolley, but we did our best to provide glamorous staging anyway.

It was pretty much the best, guys! Highly recommend. Recipes (including dairy-free versions for many treats) below the cut.

Chocolate cake with chocolate-orange buttercream (dairy-free)

Using this recipe for the cake, and this one for the frosting (instructions at the end for a chocolate variant). A hot tip is to use egg whites instead of aquafaba (they whip up much faster) and of course to add orange zest, per AWTWB ch 89.

Lemon Drizzle Cake (dairy-free)

Using this recipe, using vegan butter and replacing the self-raising flour with some flour/baking powder/salt ratio from the internet. Garnish with Kellogg's ICEE Cereal or any other weird cereal you saw at the store and couldn't resist trying, for a little visual flair.

Classic Victoria Sandwich (dairy-free)

Using this recipe, substituting butter with vegan butter, milk with a non-dairy milk alternative (ideally soy but in this case oat milk was used), and replacing the self-raising flour with the same flour/baking powder/salt ratio from the internet as above. Regular old granulated sugar can be used in place of caster sugar. Garnished this with some black raspberries, but any attractive fruit (or weird cereal) could be used.

Sour Cherry Scones

This recipe from the Joy of Cooking does the trick! Use the GOOD butter.

Lavender Earl Grey Shortbread Cookies

You can find the recipe here

Overnight Focaccia Bread

Lemon and Prawn Sandwiches

This recipe came from @cookingmywaythroughcarryon and there are tons more there for tea party inspiration, including alternate versions of some of the above, so definitely check it out!

[whatthefishh]

body talk

Rydal Keener x f!reader

Part of the Oxford Comma series

Warnings: dirty talk, p in v, creampie, literally just smut really idk MDNI

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: @xbellaxcarolinax ty for being an absolute doll and reading this over for me bb, appreciate the hell out of you ❤️

It all started when you laughed at his compliment. 

Well, sort of.

—

It had been building for a couple of weeks, his lingering hands squeezing the soft parts of you longer and longer; his bottomless eyes watching you unabashedly. Your heart beat faster at the thought of it, but slowly you were getting used to it.

Then came his words.

“You look good like that,” he’d say while you were wiping your lip free from pasta sauce. 

“Eating… messily?” 

Then he’d laugh and call you adorable and change the subject. 

The next time Rydal left you feeling lost for words was when you started wearing the perfume he had gifted you. You weren’t surprised that he liked the way you smelt while wearing it, no, what surprised you was the way he’d immediately begin mouthing at your neck regardless of where you were. 

And when you told him to settle down and wait until you got back to his room?

“If you could see the way you’re looking at me, smelling like you do, you’d also want to fuck your brains out in the common room.” 

After that, he had taken to sprinkling kind words to you whenever he was near, words about how you looked that day, how your hair tied back drove him crazy, how the way you smiled at him made him lose his train of thought and miss the last ten minutes of the lecture, how you look too good in his clothes after he’d already fucked you senseless in his dorm, having picked up the closest sweatshirt from the floor. 

It was something you were trying to get used to, and some of it you were able to laugh off easily. He was supposed to say nice things, right? 

“Fuck, you look so beautiful right now,” Rydal said while sliding his hard cock along the outside of your wet folds, the tip of it grazing your clit teasingly. You could only whimper in response, insides melting at both his words and his actions.

How he could say these things to you while you were minutes away from crying and begging him to just stuff you full of him made no sense to you. Pupils blown wide and lips swollen and bruised, you were a downright mess.

So you ignored it.

“You don’t think so? Are you saying I have bad taste?” He began to push himself inside slowly, leaning forward to breathe in your personal space and press himself impossibly closer. “Huh?” 

Rydal was fully seated inside, nibbling at the dip in your shoulder. He rubbed his nose along your cheek, eyes not quite closed while watching your eyelids flutter at the intrusion. It might have been crude, but you could swear that he belonged inside you, tucked into the heat between your legs as close as he could get. 

This was your favourite place for him to be. 

“What, no, I-I can’t think—“

“You’re so cute when you’re cockdumb, c’mon tell me I’m right.” 

He didn’t wait for your response and pulled out only to swiftly thrust his hips again and again. Your eyes had shut and you were moaning lowly, desperate to focus on how he felt, not whatever argument he was trying to reference at the moment. 

“Not gonna tell me? You’re so fucking difficult,” he mumbled, picking up speed as he continued to pump his length into you, your hips pressed into the mattress.

The noises your bodies were making was obscene, sweet slick dripping out from your cunt while he didn’t let up, his pace never faltering. Rydal lifted one of your legs up higher to sit around his ass, hand wrapped around your thigh and pressing, opening you up wider. 

Your moans increased in volume, eyes still scrunched shut while he began thrusting into your pussy harder, the bed creaking with the force of his hips. Your walls were squeezing around him, desperate to keep him inside as he continued to fuck you open, mould you to his liking.

“You don’t agree?” He was huffing in your face. You shook your head so as to tell him to shut up, to drop it, this wasn’t the fucking time. “Why’s it always a fight when I’m trying to be nice to you?” 

The way you tried and failed to tell him to shut the fuck up and make you cum was embarrassingly obvious, your lips forming the first syllables before gasping on a particularly hard and well timed thrust. 

One hand crept up to tweak at your bare nipple, softly pinching the flesh until you cried out for him. Crying out on his cock while he bullied you seemed to be shaping up to be a pattern for the two of you. 

“Ry, please,” you gasped. It felt like he was in your goddamn lungs with the he was filling you up, pressing in and against you, stealing your very breath. 

Clutching his arms and digging your nails into his shoulder, you opened your eyes to plead with him. 

Your pussy fluttered when he laughed, a worry starting to build a furrow between your brows the same way the pleasure was rising in your belly. Was he going to continue this afterwards, too? Was this going to turn into something bigger or was he just, for lack of a better word, fucking with you? 

“I’m begging here, too, baby,” he said while lifting his body off your chest, rising to his knees to hit your cervix from a different angle. 

“I’m begging you to see yourself the way I do. Like right now, for example, so fuckin’ pretty. And when I do this?” He moved to press his palm into your hip, holding you down and resting his thumb on your clit. He didn’t touch it the way he knew you wanted him to, pulling a whine from the back of your throat. “Mmm, absolutely gorgeous.” 

“Shhhh—“

Was all you could manage until he leaned in swiftly and bit you above your breast, suckling the skin causing you to wail.

“Tsk, tsk, pretty girl. I’m not going to let you cum until you agree with me.” 

Lifting himself off you again, Rydal slowed his thrusts down to be able to drag his thick cock out with the sick intent of seeing you flinch before he slammed it back inside. You felt the pressure subsiding, almost slipping stealthily away and whined desperately at him. 

“Fuck! What do you want from me?!” You spit at him, fingers tense around his sheets.

“Say it, say you look the prettiest with my cock inside you,” he tried smiling but abruptly groaned when your walls clenched around him from his words. “F-fuck, honey, don’t do this just fucking say it—”

“Ahh, I-I look, ohh,” you moaned louder.

Rydal was thrusting the slightest bit faster, brows raised in a hopeful look and eyes trained on your face.

“Uh huh, I’ve got you, keep going,” he murmured. 

“I look p-prettiest with your co-ooock inside me,” you yelled, voice breaking on a moan. 

He groaned deeply, hips speeding up and snapping into yours. 

“Good, s-so good, fuck, all for me,” he planted his hands on the bed for momentum while he continued to plow your leaking pussy. “Gonna cum for me? Go on, cum for me like a good girl, did so good, baby.”

He wasn’t letting up and the rapid build up of his thrusts timed with his syrupy sweet voice and kind words catapulted you to the edge again quickly. Whining uncontrollably while he continued to talk you through it, you shouted into the room as you gushed around his thickness. 

Chest heaving over your fresh pleasure, the aftershocks were still coursing through your body meanwhile Rydal kept fucking you through it. His hair fell into his eyes as he stared at where you were joined, watching the white ring around his dick as it plunged into you before everything tightened. On his last thrust, he stilled as he shot his load inside you, groaning with his eyes closed. 

You scoffed watching him. He was utterly gorgeous. 

“Do you believe me now?” 

“You’re a dick, you know that?” 

[one-hell-of-otaku-is-here]

Sometimes I think about all of my dark academia (both books and movies) characters interacting with each other... they are almost all murderers and need therapy... I love chaos which would ensue

[ace3899]

this is what my dreams are made of!!

[dickensianenglishbulldog]

Gosh I love the internet, in everyday life I perhaps meet twelve people who have heard of Sherlock Holmes and six of them think he was real. Where else but online may I meet people I can enthuse about Gilbert and Sullivan, Raffles, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Lord Peter Wimsey, Biggles, Diana Wynne Jones, Johnathan Strange and Mr Norrel, why the Oxford comma needs rights, and P.G. Wodehouse with?

[spiritusloci]

The Oxford Series 14 (2023)

[vfdinthewild]

“He was no longer trembling, but his head felt very fuzzy. Drinking didn’t help, but it at least gave him something to do with his hands.”

-from Babel by R.F. Kuang, ch. 5. 

[matthewsblue]

One night a few moons ago

I saw flecks of what could've been lights

But it might just have been you

Passing by unbeknownst to me

[lungthief]

tiktok is such a cesspool man after receiving thousands of hate comments over 5 years i FINALLY responded to a random one VERY REASONABLY being like “hey maybe don’t do this because it’s mean” people are like “wowww silly woman on the internet doesn’t know how to take a joke” and im just like. so tired lol

[lifewithaview]

Teresa Palmer in A Discovery of Witches (2018) S1E1

Things get creepy for historian and closet witch, Diana Bishop, when she calls up a magical manuscript. Her discovery is about to throw her back into the world of magic and into the path of Matthew Clairmont, a centuries old vampire.

*The scenes in the library are all taken from the Duke Humphrey's Libary in the Bodleian Library, the oldest reading room of the renowned library. It used to be closed off from the public and only used for special collections and manuscript consultations, but is now open to all readers of the Bodleian.

[whatthefishh]

Sativa

Rydal Keener x f!reader

Part of the Oxford Comma series

Warnings: drug use (weed), studying excessively, oral (f receiving), mentions of p in v sex, baby cow eyes.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: this took me way longer than I intended to write, it’s been a really difficult time in my mind for me and to those who are waiting for requests / chapters of other fics ily for being patient with me ❤️ huge thanks to my lovely mutuals who helped me, especially @xbellaxcarolinax for reading it over several times 🌹 love you

The room was slowly filling with the distinct smell of marijuana, little puffs of air spilling from Rydal’s lips as he took yet another drag of his joint before he tried to proposition you again.

“Wanna take a break now? It’s not like you can absorb the information by just staring at the textbook. Doesn’t work that way.”

You only sigh in response.

“A little smoke might make all those theories seem a little less… theoretical, yknow?” He laughs at the end of his quip like he finds himself extremely amusing.

“Oh, you think me finally giving in to your bad influence will help me pass this exam? You really think that’s the best way to study right now? Really?”

“Not a bad influence, princess, just wanna help you relax,” Rydal says while pushing your hair over your shoulder from where he was lying on his side next to you.

Smacking his hand away, you huff in annoyance. This wasn’t the first time he’s offered it to you, and it was never pressuring. He offered because he offered everything to you, and this was just another one of those things. You didn’t mind the smell. It was just irritating when you were trying to study and were very clearly stressed.

Rydal had learned these concepts from childhood, the topics of discussion in class were the same ones he’d have with his family at dinner, with his father over drinks at the early age of 14 back when he was obsessed with being just like him. The books on the syllabus were his summer readings as a child, the younger version of him desperate to impress with big words and bigger ideas, learning the hows and why’s of socialism when all his peers were riding their bicycles around the neighborhood. He didn’t have to focus as much as you did at this moment. And right now? Your brain was at its limit, barely digesting the words on the pages in front of you.

You lowered the textbook into your lap, turning to look down at him. His head was on the pillow next to you, eyes boring into yours calmly.

You felt your resolve slipping.

“None of this makes sense anymore.”

“What doesn’t?” He asked quietly, changing his teasing tone to match your somber one.

“It’s like, it’s like I’m reading the same thing over and over but I know—“

“You already know everything, you’re overthinking—“

“No, that’s what you think, but the last time I talked to your dad and he full-on tested me—“

“—wasn’t testing you, it came up organically so that doesn’t count—“

“Yes! Yes, he was! Who casually asks someone what their opinion on direct versus indirect democracies is over lunch? Like, what the fuck was I supposed to say?” Your voice is bordering on shrill, the memory of Lawrence’s unimpressed gaze and your face heating up in embarrassment as you struggled for words flashing through your mind.

“I’m sure he’d love hearing your rehearsed opinion next time. For now, though, I’d love to hear your opinion on something else.”

“Does it have to do with our actual reading material or does it have something to do with getting lost in a cloud of smoke with you?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I just wanna make you feel better, baby, is that so wrong?” Rydal is looking up at you, unwavering, moving to finger the edge of the sweater you had on before dipping his hand underneath to rest on your back.

Looking at him with those eyes, the intense deep stare he held; his pink lips and their slight upturn, gentle and playful all at once —you made up your mind.

Propping your hand to take the joint from him, he doesn’t give it but instead, he sits up to guide it to your lips himself, his other hand clutching your waist. Rydal rests the tip of it against your lips, his eyes watching the way you wrap them around it delicately and you swear you could see his pupils dilate and hear his breathing slow down.

“Take it nice and slow, deep breath,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your mouth as you inhale, “hold it, that’s it. Good girl. Now slowly exhale.”

You did as you were told, feeling the smoke fill up your lungs and burn slightly as you held it, and then exhaled straight into Rydal’s face.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t realize how close—“

Before you could finish speaking, he took a deep drag of the joint and hungrily pressed his lips against yours, inadvertently blowing the smoke into your mouth while doing so. You could feel his warm breath mixing with yours, your hearts beating in unison as his lips worked yours. The almost sweet and earthy taste of the weed seeps into your lungs as his tongue claims your mouth. Everything was overwhelming and thrilling and arousing and beautiful and he felt so good right then that you wanted to claw your way into his lap and stay there, burrow into his chest until you were warm and safe.

Rydal would keep you safe, with him. He would.

Pulling apart for air, you don’t remember who moved first but he was tossing your textbook on the floor while you were peeling your sweater off, the room becoming instantly warmer, the need to be closer to him making you antsy. Needy.

The effects of the smoke kicked in sometime between kissing Rydal stupid and him taking off your bottoms, his eyes stripping you faster than his hands could. You were clutching his shoulders, desperate to keep him close especially once the weight settled over you and your limbs felt heavier.

He had to stay close, you couldn’t let him leave you at this moment. Your arousal mixed with the slight paranoia that came with the high resulted in a very strong desire to stay as close as you could to Rydal, needing him more than you could put into words. You hoped he understood from how tight you were holding him, from how much you were whining when he dragged a finger down your soaked panties.

You flopped back against his pillows and despite being naked, you didn’t feel cold, your eyes and nipples pointed to the ceiling as he kissed his way down your tummy. He already laved your breasts with his mouth, the traces of saliva he left behind from wrapping his mouth around your peaks now making them pebble in the evening air. Rydal’s hands were everywhere, his tongue dipping out every few seconds to taste your skin. The effects of the high made you hypersensitive to the maelstrom of sensations, his touches feeling ten times more powerful and intimate than usual.

You didn’t realize it, but you were making all the pretty and perfect noises for him, breathy moans louder than usual while he explored your soft skin, harshly panting and voice wavering on little moans. You were driving him up the wall, his hips softly grinding into his blanket for some relief while he mouthed over the top of your underwear.

Rydal’s mouth wrapped around your clothed clit, letting his drool soak the material until he could suck it and hear your shocked squeal of pleasure. You buried your hands in his soft hair, strands slipping through like gossamer.

He lifted his mouth an inch just to hook a finger around the gusset and plant an open mouth kiss on the very core of you. He was sweet like that.

Apparently, your panties were too much of an obstruction for him as they were ripped from your legs a moment later so that he could spread you open with his fingers. Licking a stripe up your dripping cunt, Rydal dived in, eyes closed, his nose gently nudging your clit while he tongued at your opening. He continued to tongue fuck you, slowly moving in and out of your little hole leaving you gasping and moaning lowly, tugging on his hair. He continued this little routine; licking up your peeled-back core, tonguing inside your cunt, and then to rile you up that much more, he would let his teeth graze your clit.

Rydal’s fingers were stuck gripping your thighs, leaving indents from how tight he had to hold you down just so you’d stop squirming. You were so restless from him edging you, almost cumming several times but he’d pull back, blowing cool air on your core just to take you all the way again. Occasionally, he would moan into you, swirling his tongue around your clit just to suckle on it sweetly as if it were honey he was drinking on. You were whining pathetically as you buck your hips up into his mouth, the synthetic dose of dopamine only serving to heighten your pleasure. Your limbs felt heavy, you could’ve been 10 feet underground, plunged deep within the earth itself, body like lead, and the only thing you could focus on was the way Rydal’s mouth lapped at you, slurping obscenely as he made you choke on a moan.

This time around, he didn’t let up, his tongue working double time as he stared up at you, his hands pushing your thighs further apart to give him the space to fuck you with his tongue with purpose. He was intent on making you cum, fucking finally. You tried to ask, tried to form the words to beg him – maybe you did, maybe you were begging him more than you usually did, maybe that’s why he was finally giving in to you, you really couldn’t remember what you were saying – but it seemed he wasn’t stopping. Reaching up with one hand to entwine his fingers with yours and resting it on your tummy, he groaned, almost as if giving you the permission you were waiting for to let go, that it was okay, that he’d take care of you, catch you when you inevitably fall.

And fall you did. Hard.

Eyes shutting, head thrown back, floating and sinking simultaneously, his mattress was soaked not only with your release but with sweat, your body feeling seven different emotions at once as you finally came into his eagerly awaiting mouth. Rydal was there just as he promised, made you feel good – brilliant, intoxicated, euphoric – true to his word.

The comedown was… interesting.

Rydal was still holding your hand, thumb rubbing the back of your palm while he nuzzled your thigh, resting his head and blinking up at you while you caught your breath. He was a sight to behold, his gorgeous hair mussed from your restless hands, lips shiny and swollen from use and his eyes, so fucking deep and loving and still hungry.

The giggling started, hazy thoughts from the high making it hard to stop, taking the weight off your chest as it continued. Thinking about how you were aggressively pushing his hands away from you just moments before letting you wreck his comforter had you covering your face, releasing another peal of laughter. Rydal’s lazy half-smile while watching you only made it worse, knowing he thought you were a lightweight and would definitely tease you about it later. Kissing his way back up your body, pressing his mouth lovingly on your soft parts, he met you at his pillow, smiling down at you prettily. You sigh after the last little laugh leaves your chest, eyes sparkling up at him and suddenly feeling bashful.

“Never heard you beg so nicely before,” he says, smiling, kissing the corner of your mouth before snickering at your embarrassed groan. “‘Pleasepleaseplease, oh GOD–’”

“Ssshhhhhhutthefuckup oh my god, I did not sound like that,” you shoved your hands on his face, hastily trying to cover his mouth from speaking and imitating you again. Your cheeks burned. You didn’t sound like that, right?

“Mmmph, yeah actually, you’re right. It was much worse,” he managed, despite your fingers slipping into (his?) mouth. After gently removing them, he held them down against the bed before leaning forward to hover right above your lips, “it’s okay, baby, I liked it. Can you do it again for me?”

And then he held your gaze, like a fucking siren, knowing exactly the effect he had on you and your now achingly empty pussy, the muscles clenching around nothing as he let his breath mingle with yours. Rydal didn’t kiss you, just stared at you with his eyelids low waiting for you to beg him.

“Are you gonna let me take care of you? Gonna ask me nicely?” He was so close but kept himself away until the only thing you could focus on was syncing up the movement of your lungs. His denial only made you want him more, desperation bleeding out from you.

“Mhmm,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? That the best you can do?”

“P-please.”

“There it is,” he mumbled, gripping his length in one hand, lining himself up to slowly push himself in, the fat tip of him stealing your breath.

Rydal never got enough of the way your sweet pussy gripped him, and made sure to pull as many soft pleas out of you as he could for the rest of the night.

[rosalyn51]

⭐️𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞⭐️ Fancy tea with the very "still" Matthew Clairmont on a Sunday? OR wine with real #MatthewGoodE, who "talks too much"? 😅😂🤫

*Post inspired by Booksgleam's "and his stillness made me realize how much I moved, constantly blinking, breathing, and rearranging myself. " post on Twitter.

______

📖🫖✨

"Diana?" he prompted.

"I could eat," I admitted hesitantly, "and I'd kill for some tea."

He nodded, his eyes back on the traffic. "I know just the place."

Clairmont steered up the hill and took a right down the High Street. We passed the statue of George II's wife standing under the cupola at The Queen's College, then headed toward Oxford's botanical gardens. The hushed confines of the car made Oxford seem even more otherworldly than usual, its spires and towers appearing suddenly out of the quiet and fog.

We didn't talk, and his stillness made me realize how much I moved, constantly blinking, breathing, and rearranging myself. Not Clairmont. He never blinked and seldom breathed, and his every turn of the steering wheel or push of the pedals was as small and efficient as possible, as if his long life required him to conserve energy. I wondered again how old Matthew Clairmont was.

The vampire darted down a side street, pulling up in front of a tiny cafe that was packed with locals bolting down plates of food. Some were reading the newspaper; others were chatting with their neighbors at adjoining tables. All of them, I noted with pleasure, were drinking huge mugs of tea.

"I didn't know about this place," I said.

"It's a well-kept secret," he said mischievously. "They don't want university dons ruining the atmosphere."

- A Discovery of Witches, Deborah Harkness p.66

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