#Tutoring Richmond

[arctic-hands]

Damn. To be in middle school again but with the wisdom, speech skills, and power to advocate for myself that I have now, so that when I'm told I'm just not applying myself in math when I beg for a dyscalculia screening, I can say "bitch I'm excelling at every other class I'm in except gym–which my disabled ass shouldn't even be in in the first place. You've all on multiple occasions said that my writing has brought you to tears, and i can explain a variety of scientific concepts; in particular, anything relating to health and medicine. And do not get me started on my history and social study expertise. Oh, and did i mention I've been reading at a collegiate level since fifth fucking grade? What makes you POSSIBLY think that I randomly chose math to slack off in? Assholes."

[tutorsoncall]

Looking for top Richmond tutors in Canada? Hire expert tutors for all subjects, from math to science and languages. Our experienced tutors are available on call, offering personalized lessons to help students succeed. Get the academic support you need and improve grades today!

[ripeandsoft]

Office Hours

Summary: You’ve been a star pupil in Professor Richmond’s sociology class—always willing to help others, always on time, and you do great work. So when your focus starts to slip he feels he can help you, and you can help him with a dilemma of his own.

A/n: I did make an oc for this fic because I feel awkward using “y/n”, especially in dialogue. Her name is Joya and she has short hair which is mentioned later. This is the longest thing I’ve ever written and I struggled with making the dialogue flow and not seem awkward. Please be gentle with me! 🤍

Content warnings: slight age gap, dubious (consensual!) professor/student relationship, oral, slight public play, penetrative sex, spit, a spank or two, cum eating

—

You stood outside his office doors, trying to see into the frosted glass window of the door. You lifted your right hand to knock gently, knuckled rasping against the cool glass. The sound of the brass knob turning made you stand up straight, the weight of your bag straining on your shoulder. The door swung open and his wide frame took up most of the door way. His tie was loose around his neck, the first few buttons open. He pulled his right hand from the pocket of his slacks to usher you in with two fingers, closing the door behind you and flipping the lock.

“I noticed that you’ve been distracted in class recently. Is there anything that I can help you with to get you back on track?” Terry leaned his elbows on the desk, muscles flexing with movement. Your eyes moved around the room to avoid his gaze. Neutral colored clay pots, books, pens, the occasional plant, and notes were scattered around his office. Late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the window spreading warmth throughout the room. You played with the rips of your jeans, twirling the frayed edges of fabric around your finger. Realizing you’ve been quiet for a beat you open your mouth to speak but close it again when nothing comes out.

“I’ve, um, just been distracted with other classes and volunteering around campus” You said with a nod, trying to appear more out together even though you felt like you were gonna melt into your shoes. You droned on about your other classes and picking up volunteer work to help with build up your portfolio. Terry listened intently as you explained the situation, his eyes boring into yours as you spoke. It wasn’t the best excuse but it’s better than telling your professor that you’ve been dreaming of him fucking you senseless. You began to sweat, the combination of the sun and Terry’s eyes on you made you feel like you were burning up. You glanced at the clock and swallowed the spit accumulating beneath your tongue.

“I understand Joya, really I do, but this upcoming presentation is worth a good amount of your grade. I have resources that can help you, study rooms in the library to reserve, tutoring help, office hours even. I hope you haven’t been wearing yourself thin” Terry stood and walked around the front of his desk and leaned against it. Your eyes snapped up to his face, his close proximity making his scent waft up your nose. Sweet like coffee and earthy like sandalwood. “Oh no I’m fine” you shook your head as you stood up, feeling like you’re overstaying your welcome and teetering on the tightrope of danger. You snatched your bag from off the floor, slinging it haphazardly over your shoulder and starting to walk towards the door. You heard Terry huff before his steps sounded behind you. His hand was on your shoulder and pulling you back into his chest before you could reach the doorknob.

Your breath was caught in your chest. You felt the print of his dick against his slacks, starting the harden against the curve of your ass. “Sit down Joya” He spoke in your ear, his tone leaving no room for argument. When he noticed you going for the chair again he nudged it to the side to stop you in your tracks. He nodded towards the desk. You backed up slowly until your thighs felt the cold wood. You sat yourself on the cold surface, plucking a pen from under your thigh. He came to stand between your parted thighs, thick index finger lifting your chin up so your eyes meet his.

“What was our topic of discussion last Tuesday?” He asked, finger tracing down your throat and chest, a trail of goosebumps left in its wake. You left out a soft breath before speaking. “Moral and ethical dilemmas” You responded, thighs shaking as his finger continued its trail. “What was one of the examples?” He started to place kisses on your neck, lips soft and warm against you. “Age gaps in mmm relationships” You sighed through your sentence, eyes flutter closed as he sucked on the skin above where your pulse thumped. He hummed as he pulled your shirt off in one swift motion. The fat of your tits spilled from the fabric of your bra, all the more enticing for his teeth to skink into.

“Take these off” He ordered, tugging on the loop of your jeans. Terry reached for his shirt, buttons opening without resistance. You shimmied out of your jeans and panties, the fabric joining your shirt in a heap on the floor. Terry leaned down to kiss you, giving you just a few pecks at first. His hand settled on the back of your head, his fingers nestled in your short curls. His tongue massaged yours gently, tasting your day off your tongue. Your nipples found a home between his thumb and index fingers, his digits rolling and pinching them. You arched into his touch, skin on fire with need.

You were pushed to lay flat on his desk, his hand across your belly. He pulled the hood of your swollen clit up to expose you more, the throbbing bud at his mercy. Terry licked a stripe from your hole up to your clit to gather your essence on his tongue. His spit it back onto your pussy before sucking your clit into his mouth, making you squeal. Your thighs clamped around his head as he continued to eat you. Your hole clenched around nothing as he brung your hips closer to his face, burying his tongue deep inside you.

With your hands pressed flat on the desk you tried to scoot away from your professor. Hot pleasure sizzled in deep inside your belly, orgasm building with each stroke of his tongue. Your eyes rolled back as you came in Terry’s waiting mouth. He hummed against you as you flooded his tongue. He rubbed your thighs to help soothe you, gently bringing you down from your high. The clicks of his belt coming off and hitting the ground made you lean up on your elbows. You watched as he kicked his pants off and to the side.

He scooped you up into his arms and placed you on your feet, turning you around to bend you over his desk. He rubbed his leaking tip around your clit before sliding his shaft between your folds. He jerked himself with his right hand, spreading your juices and his precum all over his dick. The shuffling of feet coming down the hallway made you look up, eyes wide in fear. Terry hand came down to spank your ass two times, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as your skin stung from the impact. “Be quiet for me, you don’t want us to get caught right?” He asked, sliding in your wet pussy inch by inch. You exhaled all the air you had as he bottomed out, balls pressed against your clit.

You both were still, pussy stretched and leaking around him. His veins pulsated along your walls. He set a slow pace, digging as deep as he could. His tip brushed against your spot just right, your mouth open in silent moans as he worked you open. Terry threw his head back as he continued to thrust, his balls full and tight. He pressed you harder onto the desk, your arch growing deeper as his pace picked up. Was it wrong to fuck your student? Yes absolutely. Did you feel better than anyone else? Yes abso-fucking-lutely.

“Where do you want me?” He asked, feeling himself about to burst. Your body was buzzing, goosebumps erupting over your skin as you start to fuck back to meet his thrusts. “Inside Professor, please” You moaned, nails scratching at the wood surface of the desk, searching for stability. His balls started to slap hard against your clit, his hand resting on your hip clutching you tighter. He gave you one more pump before he started to flood your pussy, pulsating and twitching inside you as his load leaked out of you and onto the desk. You came again once you felt him empty himself inside you, a ring of white cream wrapped around the base of him.

He pulled out of you slowly, your walls hugging him tight like they didn’t want to let him go. He watched as his cum rolled out of you, pooling under your pussy. He leaned down to lick you clean before grabbing you by the back of your neck, tilting your head back so he could spit it into you mouth.

“Swallow” He said, closing your mouth for you.

[isabelleneville]

♕ @dailytudors TUDOR WEEK 2024 ♕

Day Three: Best Tudor What If >> 2/2 - HENRY FITZROY LIVES

Henry, Duke of Richmond, the beloved first son of Henry VIII born out of wedlock survives his sickness of 1536. Henry was made a possible heir to his father by the 1536 Successions Act until the birth of a child by his third stepmother Jane Seymour who had recently married his father.

During this time Fitzroy consummates his marriage with his wife Mary the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. They later had four children, three sons one named after himself and his beloved father, one after St. George and one after his wife's father Thomas, and, a daughter named after his wife and beloved sister Mary, the latter stood as godmother to the younger Mary.

In 1537, his beloved brother, the future Edward VI is born, however Fitzroy's stepmother Jane only survives the birth by a few days. During the official mourning period Fitzroy provides a strong support to his father during his grief and emerges in court as one of the possible leading figures.

Henry then lived through his father marrying another two women, one ending in divorce and the other in execution, the latter being the cousin of his wife, but, during the time of this marriage, Fitzroy was abroad as he was the ambassador to France as he had been educated in the court of Francis I and was close friends with the Dauphin.

Once recalled from France after his father's disastrous fifth marriage he became a prominent figure in court after many leading courtiers left places vacant after being executed by his father (the gaping hole Thomas Cromwell left was widely felt even by his enemies). In this time he starts to take part in the council and education of his brother Edward with his father and appoints a few of his tutors.

In 1543 he was in attendance for his father's last marriage to Catherine Parr who is only six years his senior and was the sister of his close friend Thomas. During this time not only does Catherine bring his youngest sister Elizabeth back into the fold she also further nurtures Henry VIII's relationship with all his children and now grandchildren. Mary Fitzroy, Duchess of Richmond becomes a close confidant and part of the Queen's inner circle and the fourth lady of the court after her step-mother-in-law and sisters-in-law and even outranking the ex-Queen Anne of Cleves now known as the Kings Sister solidifying Henry Fitzroy as a possible heir after his own brother, debatably in front of his sisters.

During 1544 Henry accompanied his father on a campaign which later became known Battle of Boulogne where he learnt warfare and matters of the military.

In 1547 his beloved and larger-than-life father died, leaving his brother Edward VI a young King in his minority. Richmond's careful years of tutelage in the ever-changing court of his father proved to be a well-earned place in the council of his brother while he provided a much-needed balance between his brother's maternal family the Seymours, the rising faction of the protestants and the well-known conservative faction which included his sister Mary. During this time Henry became the leading figure of court and council and the well-accepted heir of his brother as he was the senior male.

Henry having strong links to France secured an advantageous marriage for his brother to Princess Elizabeth of France the daughter of his longtime friend which proved fruitful. It is debated that during the earlier days of his reign after his minority - before Queen Elizabeth had sons - Edward considered bestowing the title of the Duke of York on his brother.

Henry oversaw the marriages of his sons to daughters of the Seymour, Howard and Grey families and the marriage of his much-loved daughter Mary - who is said to be his favourite child - off to a son of John Dudley (Mary then ended up being a sister-in-law in marriage to her Tudor Aunt Elizabeth who had married one of John's other sons Robert).

Henry died strong in his position as the most prominent man at court after his brother, the King, having seen through and guided him in his minority. He was survived by his wife and four children.

[vigilanteavengerqueen]

EVERYONE! IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THIS FIC YET DO YOURSELF A FAVOUR AND FUCKING DO IT! ONE OF MY FAVOURITES! I WAS SO HAPPY WHEN I SAW THE NEW CHAPTER I NEARLY STARTED CRYING AT WORK! IT'S PERFECT AS ALWAYS!

chapter eight of wriggle up on dry land (the ted lasso au where everything is the same except for jamie, nelson road’s fifteen year old groundsman’s assistant) is up!

The edge of the table has a little crack in it. Ted notices it when he sits down with his plate of cornbread and he worries at it with his thumbnail as he considers the answer to Beard’s question. “I messed things up with Jamie,” he says eventually. Beard stays silent. He takes a drink of coffee from the same mug he always uses when he’s in Ted’s apartment. It’s not a judgemental silence, it’s a waiting silence - a take your time, I got all night silence.

read Chapter Eight: Equilibrium on ao3!!

[pandorasprongs]

CHAPTER THREE | so inviting, i almost jump in.

'it's nice to have a friend' masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SUMMARY: jamie and reader go out for drinks and meet a familiar face that brings up a painful memory for both of them.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i'd like to apologize in advance for this one because the end is just 100% angst so brace yourselves sorry :')

It was like deja vu. Over the past weeks, you and Jamie started hanging out on a regular basis. Late nights and weekends were often spent eating pizza, watching old movies, and searching for old schoolmates online. He even helped you re-organize your room when he arrived during one of your cleaning days. You uncovered a box of old toy rings that Jamie gave you every birthday of yours for five years.

Initially, Jamie would message you if he was on the way. But the more he came over, it went back to your usual habits of him just showing up at your door at random hours of the day. When you weren't home, he'd message that he dropped by and then you'd call him when you got back. He'd race over to watch another one of your favorite childhood movies.

You hadn't realized how much you missed it all till you started spending time with Jamie again. You missed it so much that you may have neglected to mention to Liv how often you were with him. Despite the mini-sermon she gave you weeks ago about confronting Jamie, you hadn't actually made any moves to do it. All of this started to feel normal, regular, and the thought of disturbing that scared you too much. Even if there were times where you were annoyed at how casual he talked about the past few years of radio silence from him. Or how he'd mention his Man City teammates and you felt like tensing up every time.

There was no need to bring it up anymore, something you repeated to yourself. Plus, you were noticing that Jamie was now closer to your childhood best friend than the one who broke your heart. But still, you were cautious around the footballers Jamie associated with. Even when the season started again and Jamie would offer to tour you around the clubhouse or reserve tickets for the games, you'd always politely decline. You're sure the AFC Richmond players aren't terrible people given how highly Jamie would talk about them, but better to be safe than sorry.

Besides, with his now swamped schedule, you hadn’t seen Jamie recently. The most you did was when he’d send messages before training or games to which you’d answer with a “Good luck!” It was weird in the beginning, given that when he was at Man City, Jamie didn’t do any of that, but you hoped that this meant he wouldn’t leave again.

The next time you did was the night after one of their games, which continued their winning streak, thanks to Zava. While you knew Richmond fans — well, Liv and Frankie — were absolutely ecstatic to have him, Jamie despised the guy. You stopped yourself from pointing out the hypocrisy of him hating the player for being self-centered and thinking highly of himself.

You guess it’s working though because now you’re watching Richmond secure their fifth win in a row with your neighbor’s kid, Ronnie. When her mom found out you were a Science professor, she practically begged you to tutor her kid (and occasionally babysit). Ronnie was in primary school, so the lessons were pretty simple and you’ve been doing sessions every week to help her out. You always rewarded her afterward with whatever she wanted to watch on your TV that was age-appropriate, of course. This time, — after running back to their flat to get her Obisanya shirt, — she decided on watching the game. 

“Zava’s incredible,” she murmured next to you, staring at the screen as if in a trance. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the reaction. The game was finished and so the channel was just playing match highlights, which for Richmond, were mostly their current star player. Sometimes, you’d spot Jamie in the background and even though the rest of the team was cheering along, he was having a hard time masking his resentment.

When you were finally able to drag her away from the TV, you heated up two plates of lasagna. Ronnie’s mom still hadn’t knocked on your door and you didn’t want to leave her alone in your flat, so she was having dinner with you tonight. For the most part, it was just like eating with Jamie. She was non-stop talking about the match which turned to talking about her favorite players and future games. It reminded you of Jamie as a kid, who’d go on and on about the exact same things.

As you’re washing dishes and Ronnie’s answering some extra worksheets, — she asked for them! — you hear the doorbell ring. You go over and find Jamie standing at the door, much to your surprise.

“Hey! Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, but after noticing his exasperated expression, you tilt your head. “I know you don’t like a certain teammate, but I thought you’d at least be happy about the win.”

Jamie sighs. “I know." He gives you a weak smile, and you have to admit that even that simple act made your heart skip. “Is that lasagna?”

Jamie enters the room without warning and as soon as he does, your eyes widened remembering who else was there. You turn to the dining room table at the same time as Jamie and together, watch a 9-year-old stare in awe.

“Oh my God,” she let out. “That’s Jamie Tartt!” She walks over to you, leaving behind the worksheets. 

You lean over and whisper to Jamie, “Forgot to mention I’m watching my neighbor’s kid.”

But Jamie’s already jumped into celebrity mode. He crouches down and confirms, “That’s me.” He glances at her oversized jersey before asking, “You a fan of Richmond?”

Ronnie nods her head enthusiastically. “I’m Ronnie! Congrats on winning!”

Jamie chuckles, and thanks her. “Nice to meet you, Ronnie.”

You hear someone approach the door and clear their throat and you turn to find Ronnie’s mom looking curiously at you. You turn back to Ronnie — who has now launched into a full monologue about how much she loves the team — and exclaim, “Look who else is here! I think it’s time to head back to your flat, Neens.”

She pouts at that statement, but one look from her mom and she was waving goodbye to the player. You quickly collect all of her stuff scattered around the place and hand it to her mom, who seems too exhausted from her shift to even notice the other person in the room.

Once you close the door, you lean on it and sigh in relief. “Sorry about that. I sometimes watch her after tutoring if her mom isn’t back, yet.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, not a problem. I love meeting fans. Real ego boost.” 

Yet another countless eye roll. “Calm down. You’re not even her third favorite player.”

Jamie scoffs, almost offended but after remembering the lasagna, he heads to the kitchen for a plate of his own. You walk beside him and after tripping over a loose marker Ronnie left, you fall forward. Jamie's reflexes kick in and he catches you quickly and you grab hold of his — really broad, you notice — shoulders to steady yourself.

Now you're stuck in a position that happens in almost every 90s rom-com you've watched: your feet diagonally off the ground with Jamie's hands gripping tightly at your waist. Both of you are too much in shock to move and simply look at each other with wide eyes. Your faces were close, too close to be platonic if it was intentional. So much so that if you leaned forward, just a little bit…

You snap out of the trance and move to stand straight up as Jamie lets go of you. You head over to the sink and quietly curse at yourself and that stupid blue marker. Things haven't been weird between you and Jamie for ages. And you weren't going to let the possible resurfacing of your feelings ruin that. Not again. Plus, if you were already burying your old feelings of resentment, why not add onto it too?

You go back to washing dishes when Jamie asks you a question. "Are you doing anything Saturday night?"

Given what just happened, your mind wanders off in the romantic direction before you shake your head. Instead, you respond, "I think you know better than anyone that I never do anything Saturday night." You reply as you wipe your hands. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you want to get a drink with me. Well, you get a drink and I get water 'cause fucking Roy’s banned me from alcohol till the season’s over. I just really need a night out. Fucking Zava, I swear." Forget the fact that he was technically at a night out with his teammates earlier; he more of just wanted a night out with someone who isn't so related to his football life. Or, he just really wants a night out with you.

You snort at that last comment but oblige anyway, ignoring the feeling of disappointment.

Jamie and you had only ever hung out together in the comfort of your own home. You'd just assumed that it was to avoid any unwanted press and since the bar he mentioned was one of those members-only pubs, it makes sense that the first time the two of you hung out publicly was there. But seeing as it was a pub, it's not going to be a romantic not-a-date date that you'll be going on.

Though, you soon realized how different it was from your usual places. Everyone there was dressed up so formally and you were glad that you picked the black trousers that you usually only wear to work over your everyday jeans that had paint stains at the bottom of them. Maybe you had worn it in case Jamie at the last minute decided to take a detour to a nice restaurant, but you were relieved either way.

The two of you ended up just sitting in the bar while Jamie complained about his most recent Twitter feud. Christ, you pray for Keeley Jones for having to deal with all his PR nonsense. When he starts shit-talking Roy for getting him up at 4 am for training, — “I thought he was joking!” — you end up tuning out of the conversation knowing how long the rant was going to be.

Your eyes drift off behind Jamie when you notice a familiar face. Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could feel your breathing hitch and your fingers were scratching the inside of your palm. Before you could even consider doing anything, he reached you.

"Jamie Tartt!" The footballer's train of thought is broken and he turns to his former teammate to greet him. "Haven't seen you since you went off to be a reality star!"

Jamie simply rolls his eyes at the comment. "Well George, I haven't seen you since they forced you out of Man City!"

"They couldn't afford me anymore," He shrugs before his eyes land on yours. You shift in your seat and you can see the exact moment when Jamie notices how uneasy you've become. "And who's this with you?"

He doesn't remember you. And why would he? To him, you were just another crazed fan at a pub, one of many he's encountered over the years. You doubt that the memory of that night stuck with him the way it did to you.

"This is (Y/N), an old friend of mine," Jamie adds carefully and you build up enough courage to shake his former teammates' hand, but not enough to stay in this conversation.

"I'll let you two catch up while I get another drink." You explain, in an obviously fake cheery voice, but only Jamie spots it. He reaches out for your hand on the table to comfort you, but you swipe it away before he can.

You head off to the other side of the bar to order another beer, but you can't stop your eyes from shifting over to the pair of them again. Jamie looked so comfortable laughing and talking to George. You scoff at the sight. How could he act so chummy with that guy when he was the driving force for why the two of you ended on shitty terms in the first place?

Jamie's told you all about how he's been working on himself and trying to become a better person, but a part of you still feared that one interaction with that guy would unravel everything. He was an absolute prick; the number of fights and scandals Jamie had been in for his entire career was nothing compared to the amount George had in his first five years.

You wanted to trust Jamie, but he was always quick to change who he was when he was around certain people. You just hoped he had grown enough to not let his Man City "mentor" — too many of George’s scandal photos had a 19 to 22-year-old Jamie Tartt in the background — bring back the side of him he's tried so hard to erase.

You don't know how long they were talking, but by the time they moved over to the pool table, your vision was already starting to blur. The drinks just kept coming. Flashbacks from that night started to come in too: the spotting Jamie in the crowd, the confrontation, the holding back of tears, and the walk-out. You couldn't look over at the pair of them without an intense pain appearing in your chest.

Jamie looked back to where you were supposed to be seated and found you spacing out into a corner. It was the same dreamy and tired look you had the first time you tested your alcohol limit when your parents were out of town. Immediately, he abandoned the game of pool and rushed over to you.

"Maybe that's enough alcohol for tonight." Someone pulls the Cosmopolitan from your grasp and you squint your eyes to identify them as Jamie.

"Ha, that's rich coming from you." You can't remember how many times you've had to help Jamie sneak up the stairs and into his bedroom after a night out. "Aren't you still busy hanging out with that Man City prick?" Lack of tactfulness is the most obvious sign you'd drank too much.

"Woo, a little harsh there," You hear George come up to the two of you. You rush — well, more of stumble — forward to confront him, but Jamie holds you back. The retired footballer points out, "She's a feisty one."

"Let's bring you back to your flat, yeah?" Jamie offers softly, but you remove yourself from his arms and shake your head.

"I am perfectly capable of getting home by myself." You grab your clutch from the table. "Don't want to ruin another night for you guys, right?"

A pang of guilt visibly hits Jamie, but George is just left confused. You start to walk towards the exit and get to the door till you feel someone gently take hold of your left arm.

"You can't even see your phone clearly to book a taxi. I'll drive you home." Jamie's voice is low and whatever common sense you have left takes him up on your offer. He turns his head to say goodbye to George, but all the former footballer does is shout, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" following by a boastful laugh.

You clench your clutch at the comment, but Jamie brings you out the door before you can turn back and do something that'll land you on the front page of the Sun the next morning.

When you get to Jamie's car, he carefully helps you into the passenger's seat and puts on your seatbelt before getting into the car himself. Once the car starts, you take the chance to close your eyes in an attempt to remedy the throbbing headache you feel is already coming on.

You don't know how long you stay like that, but when you open your eyes, you're already at your building. You slowly get out of the car and once you make it to the sidewalk, Jamie asks, "Can’t believe you just downed a dozen drinks like a recent divorcee."

"I wonder why," You scoff and side-eyed him, unwilling to move your head from looking forward. You see the footballer's expression drop and suddenly you understand what Liv was going on about. You finally break. "How could you still be so friendly with him, Jamie! He’s an absolute arse and everyone in England knows it!"

"He was my teammate! And still a major name in football, even after retirement and all the shit he’s done. I didn't want to risk anything!" Maybe if you were sober, you'd accept that reason. There were countless alumni, tenured professors, and chairmen that you had to suck up to just to keep your job. But were drunk people ever known to be rational?

"Is that why you let him talk to me like that? Back in the pub?"

"You two barely spoke a word to each other," Jamie points out but you shake your head furiously.

"I mean back in Cardiff!" You exclaimed loudly and you knew for a fact that at least one of your neighbors had heard your outburst. But you didn't really care.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You went to walk up the stairs, expecting it to be the end of it. If Jamie didn't have anything to say, then what was the point? He'd let you walk away and tomorrow morning, you'd be back to normal and you can just pretend this night didn't happen. You've done it before.

"You said you didn't want to talk about that." Jamie finally speaks up.

"I thought I didn't," you admit, your voice levels lower than before. You continue walking when you feel a presence following suit. You stayed in that silence till you made it back to your flat. It's a miracle you didn't tip over on the way in, but spite was enough to power you through.

Jamie closed the door behind him and sighed, "I couldn't just ignore him at the bar."

Suddenly, any fear of confrontation seemed to disappear. Your anger resurfaced and you spit out, "You seemed just fine ignoring me for seven years." You turn to face him and for a second, the pitiful look in his eyes almost made you back off. Almost. "Or is abandoning your best friend easier when she's not some big-shot footballer?"

"I know you're mad," Jamie starts and you angrily run your hands through your hair.

"Yes, I'm mad, Jamie!" You shout and you watch him take a step back, but you don't falter. "I'm mad at you! Seeing George tonight just reminded me of it and how a part of me still fucking hates you for taking their side."

"I've been trying to apologize—"

"I know, Jamie, but I'm still pissed at you, okay? For leaving me like that! And for letting me leave that night! I mean, how could you? Just throw away a decade of friendship for some football assholes that threw you away the second they could." Everyone knew how Jamie's career with Man City ended and it was surely a sore spot for the player, but at that moment, you didn't care.

Before Jamie can even defend himself, you start again. "I... fuck Jamie, I loved you. You were my best friend. I would've spent every waking hour with you if I could've. But you couldn't care less about me, right? The moment someone more famous than me believed in you the same way I always did. You just stopped answering my calls, and my texts, and even my parents when they asked you for me! Worst of all, you didn't give me a single reason why!

"Honestly, I would've been fine if you did stop being friends with me, as long as you gave me an explanation. Even if it was for some stupid reason that I wouldn't understand or hate you for, because at least I could've moved on! Instead, I spent years wondering where it all went wrong. If I could've done something, anything to change what happened." You start to feel the strain on your throat and know for a fact that at least one of your neighbors would be eavesdropping, but you were finally letting it out.

Your voice comes out hoarse, "And then the next time I did see you, in that pub, you were a whole new person. A complete and utter prick, Jamie. After that night, I prayed that you'd come to your senses. Do the decent thing and apologize, even if it was just a fucking text or something. But no, you kept ignoring me and pretending I didn't even exist. So I forced myself to stop thinking about you. To stop caring about you calling me. To stop dreaming about you telling me you fucked up and that you were sorry. So I could move on with my life."

You look away from Jamie and around the living room in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing down. You were unsuccessful. "And after years, I did move on. I went to London, got a job, and stayed as far away as I could from football. From you. But God, you always find a way back to me, huh?

"It just had to be you who found me in Nelson Road that night. It had to be you who picked me up, who drove me home, and reminded me how happy I was when we were kids. So much so that I thought I'd be fine without an apology! As long as I had you back in my life, it'd be fine. But as you can tell now, it's not." The amount of alcohol in your system was wearing you down and you were starting to get tired.

You start to lose your balance when Jamie's there to catch you, but you harshly push him off you. He doesn't seem affected by your strength, but even then, he moves back.

  "Just get out, Jamie." is all you manage to say this time and after hesitating for a moment, he does. Now you're left alone again, only with your thoughts and the realization that any chance of bringing back what you had with Jamie was gone.

A/N: and that's that! i hope this teases the interlude nicely cause i'm sick of being so vague about that night since that's up next and trust me, it gets worse in that one... anyway i hope you all enjoyed this one!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamirtarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

[woundgallery]

Louise Bourgeois, from Album, 1994

"This 1994 autobiographical work, titled “Album,” is comprised of old family photographs along with texts by the artist. It is based on a slideshow-format film Bourgeois created in 1983 titled “Partial Recall.” This film was presented in the lobby of The Museum of Modern Art, New York in conjunction with the artist’s 1982–1983 retrospective there. Many of the images in that film appear in “Album,” and much of the book's text comes from the film's voice-over narration by the artist.

“Album” documents aspects of Bourgeois’s early life. The artist, born in 1911, had two siblings: an older sister called Henriette, and a younger brother, Pierre. Until she was six years old, the family lived in Choisy-le-Roi, France in a large home that accommodated the family’s tapestry restoration business, near the River Seine. When World War I broke out, her father enlisted. His wife visited him at various encampments with the young Louise in tow. After the war, the family moved to Antony on the banks of the Bièvre River. They chose their homes with proximity to rivers since the water was important to the process of tapestry restoration. In the early twenties, an English tutor named Sadie Gordon Richmond was hired for the children, but also became the father’s mistress. She stayed in the house for ten years, causing Bourgeois great distress and memories that lasted a lifetime."

-- MoMA

[goldiemills]

[MARIGOLD ‘GOLDIE’ MILLS. 22. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER] is here! They’ve lived in Asbury Park for [ALL HER LIFE] and are originally from [ASBURY PARK, NJ]. They are a [BAKER AT VESUVIO] and in their downtime love [BURNING THROUGH HER KINDLE UNLIMITED SUBSCRIPTION] and [TRAVELING — WHEN SHE CAN AFFORD IT]. They look a lot like [HALLE BAILEY] and live in [SUNCREST]. The song that makes people think of them the most is [PLEASE MR. POSTMAN BY THE MARVELETTES].

Goldie has lived in Asbury her entire life, minus the 4 years she went to college.

Gifted kid was an understatement, Goldie was often light years ahead of her peers and even helped tutor some of them to catch up with her.

Because of her stellar grades and skipping a year, she was able to graduate high school at 16 and start college the following fall as she turned 17. She got a full ride to the University of Richmond as a Richmond Scholar. Her major was English.

Bday: June 26, 2002 (she's a canceeer 🦀)

Lives with her mother in Suncrest. She's unofficially a part time caretaker for her mother, who has Huntington's. It gets rough on Goldie to juggle work and taking care of her mother, but her mother is stubborn and refuses outside help.

She has an aunt who is her rock, who lives in Jersey City but visits often, and is Goldie's total role model as a badass business owning, single mom who doesn't take shit from anybody.

Her older sister lives in California.

She's generally a person who looks on the sunnier side of things, but struggles with her mental health, particularly depression and body dysmorphia. She tends to feel judged whenever she eats in public, but after being in therapy for the past 8 months, she's been doing better.

She's an amateur writer and in college contributed to the student newspaper.

Marigold is a huge 60's and 70's buff, less so that general time and more the movies, music, and fashion that came out of those eras.

She has a lot of guilt about not doing anything with her degree, it kind of eats at her but she's not ready to publish any of her work yet or work in anything to do with the literary field (though she dreams of it, sometimes).

She has an idea for an epistolary, historic romance novel set in the 1960's, but she's scared of messing up the story and hasn't written it yet.

A huge Booktok girlie. She reads everything, yes, even that terrible dark mafia romance that went viral. She knows it's the literary equivalent of a deep fried meal, but sometimes the brain just craves mental junk food.

Though the hours can run long, she likes working at Vesuvio bakery. Their mouth-watering caprese sandwich is her daily lunch and prepping the breads and pastries feels like meditation. With only 4 people working there including her boss, it feels like her own little domain.

possible connections ⟡ ݁₊ .

vesuvio regulars (0/3) — maybe your character has a twice-weekly hankering for cannoli, or they just love the coffee to-go that's served here. goldie knows your character by name, not much else about them but is always happy to see them.

reading buddies/library friends (0/3) — yes please! goldie loves to kill an hour or two at the local library, even if just to soak up its quiet, peaceful atmosphere.

thrift shop bestie (0/1) — while she doesn't have all that much free time on the weekends, her favorite pasttime is hitting up Asbury's thrift shops for rare fashion finds. her closet is overflowing with stuff and she loves a good fashion runway moment at a store!

southern peaches (0/1) — Goldie has relatives in Georgia and has been known to visit them from time to time. Maybe your character is from the area as well and they've met up while there. Or travelled from Asbury down south, together!

[mimicofmodes]

Before he married Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, King George III set his sights on marrying Lady Sarah Lennox, the daughter of Charles Lennox, the 2nd Duke of Richmond. Lord Bute, the King's advisor, reportedly vetoed the engagement. Why was Lord Bute against Lady Lennox as a royal bride?

So, the first thing to mention is that it was fairly normal to be against a monarch marrying a subject, particularly in England. This was rare in post-conquest English history, and would be mainly associated with some not-great periods/events - Edward IV's marriage to Elizabeth Woodville, which played into the civil wars between the houses of York and Lancaster, and of course most of the wives of Henry VIII and their sad fates. The proper thing for a monarch or even an heir to do was to marry someone else considered royalty in order to strengthen an international alliance and to prevent an imbalance of power in the aristocracy.

Another aspect of the situation was influence. As a young man of about 20 with little experience, George depended greatly on his mother (the dowager Princess of Wales who would never get to be queen herself, whose only hope of being in any kind of power was through her son) and Lord Bute (formerly George's tutor, definitely close to the princess, possibly her lover). If George was married to and infatuated with Lady Sarah Lennox, he would obviously listen to her above all others. A dutiful international match, on the other hand, could eventually produce companionate love but was unlikely to rupture George's interest in listening to those around him. This was particularly a concern because her brother-in-law was Henry Fox, a Whig politician and so Bute's opponent - as a queen consort with her husband's ear, she could have funneled information and opinions from Fox directly to the king, and Fox did promote the match for this reason.

However, we need to be careful in assuming a grand passion and broken hearts. Sources differ on the extent to which George was fixed on Lady Sarah - some say that he was forcibly detached from her by Bute's manipulation, others that he understood the problems with marrying a subject very well himself and would never have done it. We have an account of George making statements implying that he wanted to make Sarah his queen and her turning him down as directly as politeness and subjecthood allowed (ie, by not saying anything) ... from Henry Fox's memoir of the period, not exactly neutral, but at the same time it suggests that a major bar to the marriage was that she simply did not entertain the king's affections.

The 1837 memoir of Sarah's son, Captain Napier, likewise passes down accounts that George liked her and tested the waters but was shut down at first by her own refusal to engage; then after Sarah broke her leg and George had an opportunity to be kind to her rather than just flirtatious, she did accept a second offer of marriage (Napier says), but ...

Then came all the arts and intrigues of courtiers, of clashing interests, of politicians and ministers; then arose the pride and fears of family, then envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness reared their secret heads while they openly bedecked themselves in smiles and flattery.

Bute et al., of course. Still, according to Napier's recounting of what his mother told him, she was not in love with the king, and in the end she was more upset about the way he never let on that he was secretly contracting a marriage with Charlotte until it was officially announced, letting her think they were still engaged, than she was about actually not getting married to him. Supposedly she was also more upset about her pet squirrel's death around the same time. (Fox agrees with that, btw.)

From a letter by Lady Sarah Lennox to her friend, Lady Susan Fox Strangeways (best name), July 1761:

To begin to astonish you as much as I was, I must tell you that the --- is going to be married to a Princess of Mecklenburg, & that I am sure of it. There is a Council to morrow on purpose, the orders for it are urgent, & important business; does not your chollar rise at hearing this; but you think I daresay that I have been doing some terrible thing to deserve it, for you won't be easily brought to change so totaly your opinion of any person; but I assure you I have not. I have been very often since I wrote last, but tho' nothing was said, he always took pains to shew me some prefference by talking twice, and mighty kind speeches and looks; even last Thursday, the day after the orders were come out, the hipocrite had the face to come up & speak to me with all the good humour in the world, & seemed to want to speak to me but was afraid. There is something so astonishing in this that I can hardly believe, but yet Mr Fox knows it to be true; I cannot help wishing to morrow over, tho' I can expect nothing from it. He must have sent to this woman before you went out of town; then what business had he to begin again? In short, his behaviour is that of a man who has neither sense, good nature, nor honesty. I shall go Thursday sennight; I shall take care to shew that I am not mortified to anybody, but if it is true that one can vex anybody with a reserved, cold manner, he shall have it, I promise him. Now as to what I think about it as to myself, excepting this little revenge, I have almost forgiven him; luckily for me I did not love him, & only liked him, nor did the title weigh anything with me; so little at least, that my disappointment did not affect my spirits above one hour or two I believe. I did not cry, I assure you, which I believe you will, as I know you were more set upon it than I. The thing I am most angry at is looking so like a fool, as I shall for having gone so often for nothing, but I don't much care; if he was to change his mind again (which can't be tho') & not give me a very good reason for his conduct, I would not have him, for if he is so weak as to be govern'd by everybody, I shall have but a bad time of it.

This is followed a week later by an account of how she was freezing cold to him when he spoke to her at court, and her desire to be asked to be train-bearer at the coronation because "it's the best way of seeing the Coronation".

As for asking her to be a bridesmaid, Fox suggests that it would have "seem'd affected" to neglect her: she was enough of a fixture among the unmarried, high-ranking women at court that she merited being asked, and if he hadn't asked her after dumping her it would have looked like a very deliberate snub. Both Fox and Napier agree that she took it very mildly and wasn't bitter about appearing as bridesmaid rather than bride, and Napier says that while Charlotte was very gracious about it, George stared at Sarah through the ceremony. Sarah's letters explain that she thought turning down the offer might have opened her up to gossip - "I was always of the opinion that the less fuss or talk there is of it the better." (Her sister Caroline was very much against her accepting, and they fought about it; Sarah was pretty angry to overhear Caroline complaining about it to a friend outside the family and asked Susan, who was also against it, to keep her opinions to herself because she was sick of being criticized over the decision.) It was after the ceremony that Sarah was mistaken for Charlotte by John Fane, 7th Earl of Westmoreland, who was 75 at the time, hadn't been to court since Queen Anne's time as he was a Jacobite, and could barely see - since she was first bridesmaid, she was at the head of the line and was dressed very richly, so it wasn't so strange for him to make the mistake. Napier attributes her correction to embarrassment rather than fear of Charlotte.

You can find the primary sources I referred to reprinted together in the early twentieth century, which is very handy. It's interesting to read Fox's and Napier's recounting of events for posterity, which strongly uphold Sarah's virtue and wisdom, and compare them to Sarah's actual letters, which show a real human personality so much more strongly. Unfortunately, the letters skip from August to October in 1761, so we can't read Sarah's own description of the wedding and coronation, which took place in September!

(reposted from AskHistorians)

[hermesserpent-stuff]

so... i mentioned a dream i had last night about my spidersona and so i decided to take the motivation to draw and write out ideas. Ill put it all under the cut cause its a bit long and goofy.

First things first. Not in New york. This takes place in a city more akin to richmond. or some other southern city. Not too big, not too tall, and near enough to tobacco that that is something that is thought about.

second things second, gotta clear this from my chest. Bitten by a beetle. A Lasioderma serricorne, aka Tobacco Beetle. Agrioscorp was developing and presenting pesticides to use against such creatures. Martha, our tiny hero, was there for a school project about crops and bing boom. Beetle that the pesticide was supposed to murder actually didn't murder the beetle and it gave the magic bite of powers.

Name: Martha Anne Taylor

Hero name: The Dynamic Tobacco Beetle. or Baccy

Alignment: HAHAHHA she watched too much a-team, red dawn, and Smokey and the Bandit growing up. while respectful, she does not see the system as the end all be all and often tries to talk to her villains. Drags them to a good meal.

powers: Climbing walls, super strength, enhanced senses, immunity to certain toxins, can digest less nutritious food (like rotten food) with no problem, good at riding horses (not a power... .. .)

toolkit: rope shooters, ginger cinnamon molasses cookies to offer villains. Armor (the dark brown bits under her jacket)

weaknesses: Cold!! gets slower and slower as she gets colder. at 39.2 Fahrenheit (4 °C) she passes out. she learns to layer pretty fast. Homemade Biscuits and iced sweet tea. offer those and she'll be distracted enough for you to go commit crimes

age: 16ish.

backstory: Lives with her maternal grandpa after most of her family was killed. by hurricanes. :/ dang. Her grampa runs a horse carriage service within the city and she helps care for the horses in her downtime

foes: mostly based on tssm versions. because beloved. BUT we have some changes and some dynamic shake-ups and name changes because.

vulture-> to Falcon (Adrian Toomes): He is an old inventor whose work has been taken over and over and he is done. Osborn (like in tssm) took his design and this was the breaking point. Hes bent on revenge. and Baccy is bent on getting him to calm down and eat a Snickers. eek.

Tinkerer( Phineas Mason): Owns a technology repair store and has underground dealings in tech that the store acts as a front for. Quentin lives with him due to him owing Quentin's deceased parents a huge favor. Quentin used to live in new york city and had to move with tinkerer down south.

mysterio-> Mysterium (Quentin Mason nee Beck): Northern City Kid who feels pretty out of water. Goes to the same school as Martha. They end up as pals. but that's a complicated story.

Tombstone: similar to tssm. crime lord. of a relatively small city so its a bit easier. Also!! Baccy cant go in his office. He keeps it too cold. He has no idea that's the case. She leaves notes on his window to threaten him. Like cut out letter ransom notes. He leaves some in reply on occasion.

---

other people ive thought about:

Ella Osborn is the sickly daughter of Norman. She can do some things but tires easily. Very easily. Martha is a tutor for her, as she is mainly homeschooled. it gives her a chance to interact with other kids her age. Not by her parents though. There are people they can pay to do it instead.

[qutemaestro]

by Gift Sting

+1 (804) 404-3025 or +1 (202) 681-20244 or cutemaestro@gmail.com Tutors / teachers / instructors of mathematics, physics and information technology in Richmond, Virginia; Washington DC and Maryland.

[tecnoandroidit]

Cosa si cela dietro la morte misteriosa di Edgar Allan Poe?

Lo scrittore americano Edgar Allan Poe anche se ha avuto una vita breve, segnata da sofferenze e problemi, è riuscito a ritagliarsi un grande spazio tra i migliori scrittori americani Nato a Boston nel 1809 figlio di due teatranti, che dopo soli due anni muoiono e lo lasciano orfano. Il piccolo Poe viene adottato e cresciuto dalla famiglia del mercante John Allan a Richmond con cui fin da subito ha un rapporto pieno di alti e bassi. Seguendo gli affari del tutore, Edgar passò molto tempo in Gran Bretagna e questo periodo della sua vita influenzerà molto la sua produzione letteraria. Al suo ritorno negli Stati Uniti Poe continua a seguire in maniera irregolare i corsi universitari, fino a quando non li abbandona definitivamente. Verso i venti anni, dopo l'abbandono degli studi, si avvicina alla vita militare. Quest'ultima nonostante una serie di veloci avanzamenti di carriera non lo rende felice. Il suo unico conforto sembra essere la scrittura. In questo mondo di parole Poe scrive intriganti racconti gotici, poesie ricolme di malinconica bellezza e lo portano a conoscere la sua futura moglie Virginia, che all'epoca non era neanche quattordicenne. Le sue opere hanno esplorato gli angoli più oscuri dell'animo umano, creando le fondamenta per la letteratura Horror e la narrativa di fantascienza. Ma la sua presenza nel mondo letterario non si limita soltanto alla mansione di scrittore, infatti Poe è conosciuto anche come critico, editore e redattore. Cosa sappiamo sulla sua misteriosa morte? La vita di Edgar Allan Poe è segnata anche da molte tragedie personali, e, come i suoi personaggi è tormentato emotivamente ed instabile. La morte precoce delle venticinquenne Virginia (sua moglie), causata dalla tubercolosi, accentua ancora di più i suoi problemi psicologici, portandolo a rifugiarsi dietro l'uso di alcol e droghe. Il 3 ottobre del 1849 viene trovato delirante e in fin di vita a Baltimora. Dopo diversi giorni che se ne sono perse le tracce, il 7 ottobre muore senza aver mai riacquistato pienamente la coscienza. Nonostante la sua vita brilli di una luce singolare, la sua morte è avvolta nell'ignoto. L'unica cosa certa è che non doveva trovarsi a Baltimora, nei pressi si un seggio elettorale a ripetere ossessivamente "Reynolds". Le teorie sulla sua morte sono molte, dall'idea di un'avvelenamento a all'idea di un caso di cooping. Quest'ultima è una pratica elettorale fraudolenta per cui un povero malcapitato veniva sequestrato, drogato e infine mandato a votare un candidato più e più volte. La teoria del cooping è, attualmente, quella più accreditata. Nonostante la sua vita tragica e la sua morte misteriosa, ha lasciato una grande eredità che ha ispirato grandi autori come Arthur Conan Doyle, Alfred Hitchcock e molti altri.   Read the full article

[quantumacademyyvr]

Quantum Academy 非凡教育

Address: 6007 West Blvd. Vancouver, BC V6M 2G2

Phone: (778) 652-2853

Website: https://www.qlearning.ca/

Business Email: info@qlearning.ca

Hours: Mon - Thu: 10 a.m.–9 p.m. | Fri - Sun: 10 a.m.–7 p.m.

Payment: Credit card, debit card

Year Est: 2009

A leading education center serving the Metro Vancouver area, Quantum Academy specializes in English tutoring, SAT tutoring, Math tutoring, SSAT tutoring, and other subjects. Ensuring each student's success is our top priority. Join us at Quantum Academy, where your educational journey is nurtured, and your academic goals are achieved. Established in 2009, we stand as a distinguished IRCC designated learning institution with campuses located in Richmond, and Vancouver.

Book a consultation with our student advisor today! We’re open 7 days a week.

Quantum Academy Phone: (778) 652-2853 info@qlearning.ca

[altschmerzes]

chapter four of wriggle up on dry land (the ted lasso au where everything is the same except for jamie, nelson road’s fifteen year old groundsman’s assistant) is up now!!

“Night, Lasso,” is all that Jamie says in the end, and then he’s walking away from the table, across the pub, and disappearing out the front door.

Ted stands up and looks out the window, craning his neck to watch Jamie walk down the road. He’s headed the same direction that Ted sees him coming from sometimes, the direction he probably lives in somewhere down the street.

“Goodnight, Jamie,” he murmurs, even though the kid is long gone and there’s no one listening anymore. Then he turns and sits back down. Now, to figure out who at AFC Richmond is a math tutor waiting to happen.

read Chapter Four: AFC Richmond Mathletes now on ao3!

[prepsmart]

Enhance Academic Success with a Private Tutor in Richmond Hill | Prepsmart

Looking for a private tutor in Richmond Hill? Prepsmart is your trusted partner in achieving academic success. Our experienced tutors provide personalized one-on-one instruction tailored to your child's unique learning needs. With our dedicated tutors, your child will receive individualized attention, helping them grasp challenging concepts and excel in their studies.

[mixedbagofships]

John’s daughters were tutored because he and Elizabeth didn’t trust the schools in Richmond.