#Queen Victoria Memorial

[akipeed17]

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

[vox-anglosphere]

King George V unveiling London's Queen Victoria memorial in 1911

[bridgeportbritt]

SimDonia Prepatory Auditorium | Hallow Slough, SimDonia

Assistant Dean: Alright students, please gather to the stage.

Assistant Dean: Alright students! The moment you've all been waiting for! It's time to announce this year's Prom King and Queen!

Applause and cheers

Assistant Dean: Thank you to everyone who voted and good luck to the contestants! Alright, let's get to it! This year's prom king is...

Assistant Dean: Luka Stephens!

Applause and cheers

Assistant Dean: Congrats Luka! Before you grab your crown, let's see who your Prom Queen is! This year, Prom Queen goes to...

Assistant Dean: Duchess Ella Wu-Winston!

Applause and cheers

Assistant Dean: Congrats to you both! Let's clear the floor for the Prom Queen and King dance.

Luka: Have I mentioned that you look great tonight?

Ella giggles: Yes, Luka, you have. About a million times.

Luka: Well, you do! I knew you were going to win Prom Queen. I'm just glad I made the cut and got the dance.

Ella: I'd have been much more surprised if the soccer team captain lost Prom King.

Luka: I can't believe high school is officially over. Now, I get to go to BUS with the love of my life.

Ella: To BUS? I thought you got into Simerica's Britechester? What about your soccer scholarship?

Luka: Surprise! I thought about it and I'd rather stay here with you than spend so much time apart. My parents won't be happy about it, but they'll get over it!

Ella: Luka, I don't think that's a good idea...

Luka: Why not?

Ella: Because you shouldn't give up your scholarship for me! I'm just your high school girlfriend!

Luka: You're more than that, Ella. We belong together. Besides, long distance relationships don't last.

Ella: Luka...

Luka: You just want me to go away, don't you? Do you even love me anymore?

Ella: Of course, I do! But we're too young to plan our whole lives around each other. You can't give up a college scholarship for me! Who knows where our relationship will be in four years?!

Luka scoffs: Should've known. You're already thinking we won't make it! You always do this!

Ella: Oh, my Watcher, Luka! Don't make scene.

Luka upset: I'm not making a scene. This should be a special moment for us, but like always, Ella isn't all in. Or even half in.

Ella: What are you even talking about?

Luka upset: You're always busy yet somehow have plenty time for your friends. You're making plans for the future that don't even include me. We've been together for nearly 2 years, and we haven't even had sex?!

Ella upset: Seriously, Luka? Is that was this is about? Because I don't want to give it up to you?

Luka angry: Get over yourself, Ella! You are my girlfriend! That's what girlfriends are meant to do!

Ella: You're disgusting! I don't have to do anything with you!

Luka: Ella!

Ella: Don't touch me!

Eric: Hey, dude! What is your problem?

Ella: Eric, just... stay out of it.

Luka: Oh, of course, Lover Boy over here wants to come to your rescue. You sure don't mind having him around, Ella! Going to BUS too, I'm sure!

Eric: Maybe because I'm not a jerk like you!

Ella: Okay, both of you stop! People are staring!

Luka angry: I'm the jerk! You're the one who's literally obsessed with my girlfriend. I see the way you look at her!

Eric: You are way too insecure, man. Maybe get the hint that she's just not that into you!

Luka: You'd love for that to be true, wouldn't you?

Victoria: Oh, my Watcher, you two! Cut it out!

Ella angry: That's it!

[sometimeslondon]

Buckingham Palace and the Victoria Memorial from the Mall

[fanaticforlife]

Victoria & Melbourne - Goodbye, Lord M

"And you can have music, whenever you want."

[blognaturallife]

The Story Behind the Victoria Memorial in Kolkata: Architecture and Significance

The Victoria Memorial in Kolkata stands as a testament to the grandeur of the British Empire in India. An iconic symbol of Kolkata, this magnificent structure is not just an architectural marvel but also a significant cultural and historical monument. Built in memory of Queen Victoria, the memorial combines elements of British and Mughal architecture, creating a unique blend that continues to captivate visitors from around the world. In this article, we will delve into the story behind the Victoria Memorial, exploring its architectural brilliance, historical significance, and enduring legacy.

[gregor-samsung]

" There are those who say that a native will not speak to a white man. Error. No man will speak to his master; but to a wanderer and a friend, to him who does not come to teach or to rule, to him who asks for nothing and accepts all things, words are spoken by the camp-fires, in the shared solitude of the sea, in riverside villages, in resting-places surrounded by forests—words are spoken that take no account of race or colour. One heart speaks—another one listens; and the earth, the sea, the sky, the passing wind and the stirring leaf, hear also the futile tale of the burden of life. "

Joseph Conrad, Karain: A Memory, tale written February–April 1897; published November 1897 in Blackwood's Magazine and collected in Tales of Unrest, 1898.

[piyalbal339-blog]

Queen Victoria memorial place,kolkata city,India

[paulpingminho]

[aworldofpattern]

Monuments print scarf by Burberry

[wowthatsextra]

An indefinite list of every time James Beaufort was the most head over heels pathetic pining mess over Ruby Bell

The arm nibbling... sir that is not

His Pride and Prejudice moment at Oxford

Jumped into the pool and carried her out in front of everyone

Gave her Queen Victoria's Dress

Ran around the whole school trying to catch hundreds of chickens for her gala and when his friends tried to make fun of him for it, he owned it and made them help him

Kept circling around her house because she fell asleep in his arms and he didn’t want to wake her up

Printed a huge ass poster of him and Ruby and put it up for the whole school to see as an apology for making her feel like he was ashamed of her (he wasn’t)

The fact that whenever Ruby is around he keeps zoning out of conversations

To add to that, told Alistair that he was being too obvious about being into Kesh but then got distracted by Ruby walking by and Alistair was like "You're one to talk"

Was insanely jealous of any guy she talked to (even gay Alistair 😭) and started a fight with the Oxford guy in front of everybody

Drew her from memory after she apologized to him for dragging his ass in class and gave it to her on her birthday

Ran after Ruby at Oxford even though 1. She just dragged his ass again in public and 2. he knows they can't be together

"You're not invisible anymore. Not to me"

"I know exactly what I want"

While making a list about things he likes "The most important one- you"

"For you I'll be anything that you want- whether it's your lover or your boy toy"

"You drive me crazy. Do you know what you're doing to me right now? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to see you, and to hear your voice?" You're the Bane of My Existence and the Object of All My Desires 2.0

"My family saw how much I changed because of you"

Lashed out when his father called her a gold digger

Took pictures of her smiling

Went on his knees asking her to dance

The way he looked at her when she was coming down the stairs wearing the dress

Skipped his whatever meeting it was to take her on a spontaneous trip to London

Went out of his room at night to see her at Oxford

His awe when he saw her naked 😭

The extra kisses when the bus was waiting for her at Oxford

Instinctively tried to sit next to her at Oxford even though they were broken up

Broke his own heart trying to save her and her family from his father's wrath. He'd rather have her hate him than let her or her family get hurt (can u hear me sobbing)

Literally gave up being the face of the Young Beaufort Line so he didn’t miss her birthday (insane how this was only episode 4 before they even KISSED)

[vox-anglosphere]

The Queen Victoria Memorial in Newcastle defines a glorious era

[onegirlatelier]

April, 2024 | Shetland lace shawl

Hi there! It’s been a while. I’ve been kept busy by all my university work…and this shawl.

The shawl is knitted to celebrate the wedding of my friend (now friends, I should say). A wedding is really the perfect excuse for all the heritage crafts and heirloom projects that might seem too serious to gift in other occasions. I did ask the recipient beforehand if she would like it, though, and I was so, so honoured that I got an enthusiastic ‘yes’. I’m sure this sentiment is shared by many makers, whatever gift they are making.

Shetland fine openwork, a knitted lace, seems to have emerged with the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria, who championed and popularised the craft. It was probably spread from the Isle of Unst to other parts of Shetland. What surprised me the most when I first read about it was that Shetland shawls and other lace pieces were largely exported as luxury items and rarely worn by islanders themselves. Women bought yarn from spinners and knitted mostly in their homes. They then took them to local merchants and exchange the finished objects for goods or (commonly after the 1880s) money to supplement the household income. The ‘supplement’ nature of this work probably means it was not compensated as much as a job outside the home would be for the same hours and skills. Besides, it was not always easy to spin an even 1-ply yarn at 1600 metres per 100 grams. For a piece of knitting with a large ‘plain’ area (i.e. only knit stitches), the unevenness was impossible to hide but could only be discovered after the area was worked. Then the maker had to either frog (unravel) the area or continue with the risk of the whole piece not being able to sell.

Whilst it is very reasonable to point out that Shetland ladies did not usually wear this type of lace (I’ve been to the Scottish Highlands once, in summer, and it was not fine lace weather), I imagine that at least for some, it wasn’t just about making money. Some sort of fulfilment must have been from the satisfaction of having a piece ‘properly done’ by continuing and adapting a traditional pattern, technique or material. I think this sort of satisfaction is also why many modern knitters are willing to spend hundreds of hours on lacework.

Intricate handknitted lace items can still be bought today (a quick search on Etsy would show many are form eastern European countries with a long and prominent craft tradition), but many are knitted for friends or family members. It always makes me so happy to see people share the gifts they have made, whether big or small, simple or complex. I joke with my online craft friends that no handmade fibre project can claim to be so unless they have a hair or two woven into it. It is the proof of existence for the maker, who tries to go against the irregular nature of handicrafts and, at the same time, accepts it. It is about wrapping up hours, weeks or months in one’s life, along with the songs they have listened to and the perfume they have worn and the memories they have made, and putting it squarely in someone else’s hands and saying: ‘All this, for you.’

A Wedding Shawl

I have not read anything about there being a standard form of ‘wedding shawl’ in the Shetland tradition. However, there is definitely a category of square shawls with similar sizes and a few construction methods. The samples I’ve seen mostly measure 1.5-2m on one side and have three parts: a central panel, four borders and a strip of edging. It is worked flat in garter lace from centre out.

Neither is there a standardised yarn weight. A widely available yarn is the Shetland Supreme Lace Weight 1-ply by Jamieson and Smith, which weighs at 400m/25g. The Queen Ring Shawl examined by Sharon Miller used a yarn at 700m/25g. From my experience, if you want the shawl to be a true ring shawl (i.e. you want to be able to pull the shawl through a ring) at the size of the Queen Ring Shawl (210cm on the side), go for 700m/25g or finer.

I chose a rectangular shawl because I had very limited time, but I did enlarge it because for me, an abundance of fabric does mean an abundance of cozy happiness.

Pattern

Shell Grid and Spider Webs Puzzle, pattern No.19 in the book Shetland Knitting Lace by Toshiyuki Shimada.

The names of the motifs are confusing. One motif (or two highly similar motifs) might just have two different names if they are produced in two different regions. Names do not mean everything, but I’ve had fun trying to match the motifs with names according to this article by Carol Christiansen at the Shetland Museum.

The double yarnovers (YO's) in the diamonds were called Cat's Eye, but perhaps the 'Spider Web' in the pattern name is referring to the three rows of double YO's in the centre panel. It has a really simple but effective edging.

Yarn

Mermaid Lace, in colourway #naturel, sold by Great British Wool in the Netherlands. This yarn is 75% merino and 25% sea algae silk. ‘Sea algae silk’ seems to be a semi-synthetic plant fibre like viscose, with algae involved as part of the raw material. (At this price point I don’t think it has anything to do with sea silk, which is fibre produced by actual shells.) The brand name for the most popular product of its type is probably Seacell.

I bought the yarn, because I had never worked with this fibre before and was curious. What I like: it was a little cheaper than a wool/silk blend and has blocked very well. The whole skein was continuous so I didn’t have to deal with a single yarn joint. What I do not like: it lacks the sheen and smoothness of real silk and doesn’t feel as strong, although it doesn’t shed. In conclusion, I’d rather use a traditional Shetland 1-ply or another natural fibre yarn.

It's also worth mentioning that whilst I prefer to support small businesses, it was disappointing to have received a 93-gram skein when I had ordered 100 grams. It was one of those days between Christmas and the New Year and I somehow did not contact the customer service, but I really should have.

Needle

2.5mm 80cm circular needles. See modification below.

Modification

This Japanese knitting book follows Japanese sizing for knitting needles. The suggested size was no. 1=2.4mm. I figured that I could use a 2.5mm since I knitted on the tighter side, and in any case it was probably okay to make the lacework a little more open by going up a needle size.

I am not going to give out the pattern, but it is probably necessary to explain the structure of this shawl. The centre is knitted first, and then an edging is knitted onto it by picking up either live stitches or the vertical edge of the centre as you go (see schematic below). The four ‘corners’ of the edging have short-row shaping to help it lay flat. I know that traditionally people can achieve this by other methods, but I haven’t tried any of those yet.

I enlarged the pattern by increasing both the width and the length. I casted on 133 stitches instead of 101 for the centre panel and knitted Part B 8.5 times instead of 5.5. The spider web pattern in Part B requires the stitch count to be (something dividable by four) plus two, so I made one central increase before the spider web to get 134 and a central decrease after it to get it back to 133. Due to the openness of the lace, the change of one stitch is not visible.

The enlargement meant I had to recalculate the edging as well, because the number of stitches available for pick-up changed. Originally, at each corner you do two repeats with four short-row shaping each. I did 1.5 repeats following the original placement of short-row shaping in order to make the total number of repeats fit the number of edge stitches on the centre panel.

The pattern says to Kitchener-stitch the last row of the edging to the provisional cast-on. It just didn’t make sense because that would be two rows too much (the Kitchener stitch row plus the provisional cast-on row). To make the number perfectly fit, I knitted only ten rows of the last repeat (there were usually twelve in each repeat). Then I Kitchener-stitched the end to the provisional cast-on, following the lace pattern. I am quite proud of this solution because it is completely invisible.

Somewhere in the pattern it said to purl (looking from the right side). It seemed strange because the rest of the lace was entirely garter. I knitted those stitches and so far I haven’t sensed a ‘mistake’.

The pattern originally calls for 45 grams of yarn. I estimated (based on the increase of stitches in the centre panel) to need about 80 grams. I ended up using 86 grams. Besides the inaccuracies in my estimation, it was probably also because I knitted much more loosely than expected as it was difficult to tension the yarn tightly at such a weight. Like I've point out in the Yarn section above, I was lucky not to have needed more than 93 grams.

The original finished size is 53*118cm. I ended up with approximately 70*170cm.

Conclusion

This shawl took about three months of my craft time i.e. one full day every week for three months and many mornings before I had to leave for university. Knitting outside my room just didn’t work because I was a) engaged in some other activities that made it difficult to steady my hands, and b) worried about putting a white shawl on any public surface.

The pattern itself is relatively straightforward. The first difficulty was, of course, to understand the instruction written in Japanese. Google translate was horrible so I had to rely on my knitting experience. Fortunately, much of the text description was also found in graphs and charts. Then I had to get my hands used to the tiny yarn. After that, it was only fiddly when I did the edging, because I had to turn about every twelve stitches, and by that time I was handling a giant cloud of stitches on my lap. It did give me a lot of time to go over my favourite documentaries and films, and the last bit of edging was surprisingly quick!

Traditionally, Shetland shawls could be sent back to the maker for maintenance. I think it only fair for me to offer that too because I don’t want a gift to become a trouble (same as how you do not use non-machine-washable yarn for baby knits).

In general, I am very pleased with this shawl. It does pass the ring test, despite not being a traditional wedding shawl size or thickness. I do have a whole lot of actual Shetland 1-ply in my stash, so I am really looking forward to taking my Queen Ring Shawl project out of hibernation in the near future.

Reference list for Introduction

Christiansen, Carol. Shetland fine lace knitting: Recreating patterns from the past. Marlborough: Crowood, 2024.

Mann, Joanna. 'Knitting the Archive: Shetland Lace and Ecologies of Skilled Practice'. Cultural Geographies 25, no. 1 (January 28, 2017): 91–106. https://doi.org/10.1177/1474474016688911.

[blackexcellence]

#BlackHistory365 Art Round-Up ⬇️

Elsa Soares via @rodrigoincolors

"This is Elsa Soares. She's one of the biggest names in Brazilian music and considered a matriarch of Brazilian black artistry. BBC named her the voice of the millenium and she was one of the most important and loudest voice against racism, LGBTQIA+ and women rights, among other social causes. She's died yesterday at age 91. This is a very simple, but sincere tribute to her. May you rest in power!

Please, listen to her music and search more about this great woman."

2. Portrait of Sarah Forbes Bonetta by Hannah Uzor via @fyblackwomenart

Portrait of   Sarah Forbes Bonetta by  Hannah Uzor

Sarah Forbes Bonetta  was an Egbado princess of the Yoruba people in West Africa who was orphaned during a war with the nearby Kingdom of Dahomey and later became the slave of King Ghezo of Dahomey. In a remarkable twist of events, she was liberated from slavery by Captain Frederick E. Forbes of the British Royal Navy and became a goddaughter to Queen Victoria. She was married to Captain James Pinson Labulo Davies, a wealthy Lagos philanthropist.

3. Marian Anderson by @novva

I’ve always wanted to do a series on black classical singers for BHM, so here’s a sketch I squeezed in this week—a tribute to the great Marian Anderson!

Marian Anderson (February 27, 1897 – April 8, 1993) was an African-American opera singer and contralto. In 1939, after the Daughters of the American Revolution refused to allow Anderson to sing to an integrated audience in Washington, D.C, then First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt and her husband President Franklin D. Roosevelt arranged for Anderson to perform an open-air concert on the Lincoln Memorial steps on Easter Sunday, April 9, 1939. She was able to deliver a critically acclaimed performance before an integrated crowd of more than 75,000 people, and a radio audience in the millions.

Read more about her accomplishments here, and donate to the National Marian Anderson Museum here.

Remember: tag your history & trailblazers art with #BlackExcellence365 for a chance to be featured!

And keep your eyes out for next month's theme... 👀

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 10

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Her heart pounded fast, the urge to hold back from throwing up overwhelming her. She hated you.

The smirk on your face is the same as the first time she met you.

Flashback Start

Back then, she didn't know she had an older sister. One day, Genevieve brought her to a big house. Her mother said, “Starting today, we will live with your father.”

Growing up, Victoria realized her family was different from her friends because her father never stayed a night in their small apartment.

She finally learned the truth when she stepped into her father's house. The grand entrance was so big, with a chandelier. She felt like a princess.

Before Victoria could imagine herself as a princess, she heard someone say in the lowest and coldest voice she had ever heard, “The mistress and her spawn. Welcome.”

Jonathan sighed, his expression weary. “Watch your words,” he said. He squatted down and rubbed Victoria's shoulder. “Don't be mad at her. Forgive your older sister.”

Victoria looked up at her father, then back at you. You stood there, arms crossed, eyes cold and piercing. You didn't move or offer a welcoming gesture. The disdain in your eyes was palpable.

Genevieve, trying to smooth things over, put on her best smile. “Victoria, this is your older sister. She’s just... surprised to see us.”

You scoffed, turning on your heel and walking away. “Surprised isn’t the word,” you muttered under your breath.

Victoria felt a lump in her throat. She glanced at her mother, who was trying to keep up appearances, but Victoria could see the strain in her eyes.

Jonathan stood, his hand still on Victoria's shoulder. “Let’s get you settled in,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, but the tension in the air was thick.

She always wanted an older sister. She takes another look at you.

You were on the top of the stairs, making you look down on her. Also, the way you bring yourself and the dress you wear. You look superior to her. 

This is the first time, she understand the feelings of jealousy. 

Since then, she live as an illegitimate child. The status bring nightmare especially because she move to another school. All the kids are humiliated her for being mistress. 

While you have the status as a leader. Everyone likes you. 

Except her. She hated you. 

Soon, she realized that only in school that you could you act like a queen where everyone likes you. 

Compared to home, you pick a fight with everyone. Even Jonathan ignores you.

She thought, what if you don't have any more friends? Money? Will you still be able to act tough?

This is the starting point when Victoria and Genevieve work together to bring you down. Genevieve will do anything to make her daughter win. Because she gives the name Victoria from Victory. 

Genevieve knew she could became the Madam of Sinclair because of Victoria. Her daughter is the golden ticket. 

Their plan was successful for a while. You got kicked out of the house and left with nothing. 

But now, the situation has changed. You're back in your game. 

Flashback End

Victoria's hatred for you only grew from that moment. Seeing you in her office, acting as if you owned the place, brought all those memories back with a rush of bitterness.

She had to accept the fact that she couldn’t underestimate you anymore. You were able to buy 40% of Velari’s shares in such a quick step.

It was all because of the influential person supporting you.

Bucky.

She couldn't beat him. Is this the day she's going to lose?

You smirked at her while she was at a loss for words. She turned around and walked out of her office, her steps heavy with frustration.

As she stepped into the hallway, she saw her mother surrounded by the other designers and tailors.

“Mom?” Victoria's voice was strained.

Genevieve immediately embraced her. “It's okay. Nobody here expected this. We're going to rally.”

By ‘we,’ Genevieve meant the designers and tailors of Velari. She had done a great job of making them mad at you, spreading false information, and stirring up resentment.

Victoria never thought her mother could move so quickly. She felt a wave of relief wash over her.

Genevieve looked at the gathered crowd with a determined expression. “We won’t let her take what’s ours,” she declared, her voice strong.

The designers and tailors nodded in agreement, their faces showing varying anger and determination. Victoria stood straighter, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

👗👗👗👗

While everyone chattered outside, you were focused on examining the design sketches.

Even though you hadn’t been a part of Velari since both women took charge, you still kept up with what was happening in the company.

Flipping through the papers for the upcoming season, it became clear that this was not the Velari you once knew.

You stepped out of the office and were immediately faced with a crowd. They were staring at you, arms crossed, as if ready for a confrontation. Genevieve and Victoria stood behind them, watching the scene unfold.

You asked the employees, “Can I help you?”

“We don’t want to work if our leader, Victoria, is replaced by you,” one of the designers spoke up, their voice filled with defiance.

“That’s right. Someone with no background in fashion design can’t be here,” another designer added, their tone dismissive.

“We'll walk out if Victoria gets replaced,” a third designer declared, moving towards the exit.

They expected their threats to make you back down.

But instead, you replied calmly, “Sure. For anyone who walks out, I want your resignation letter today.”

Your words hung in the air, stunning the crowd into silence. The designers hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. They hadn't expected you to call their bluff so confidently. Even Victoria and Genevieve didn’t expect you to fire all the employees.

“You can’t do that!” one of the designers yelled.

“Without them, no one could make the dresses of Velari,” Victoria added, making the employees, who were already afraid, nod their heads in agreement.

You shook your head and held up the sketch designs. “There’s no more Velari. It’s all gone. These designs said it.” Then, you threw the sketches to the floor.

“Who do you think you are?” someone yelled angrily.

You sighed, “Bitch. I’m the rightful owner of this place.”

Everyone was stunned when you cursed.

“If you knew the true history of Velari, not the edited version, you’d know this fashion line was created by Cassandra and Ophelia. They’re my grandmother and my mother,” you said sternly, your gaze sweeping over the room.

“And now, with the 40% share that I own, I have the freedom to do whatever I want.” You walked slowly, looking at each employee.

Then you continued, “To be honest, you made my work easier. I want to turn this place around 100%.” If you needed to be the bad guy, so be it because you knew all of them were loyal to your stepmom and stepsister.

Genevieve and Victoria went pale when they heard that.

You could see the fear and uncertainty in their eyes. The employees, who had initially been defiant, now looked unsure. Some exchanged nervous glances, while others stared at the floor.

Genevieve’s composure cracked, and she stepped forward, her voice trembling slightly. “You can’t just change everything. Velari has a reputation, a legacy.”

You met her gaze with a steely determination. “And that legacy was built by my grandma and my mom. It’s time to return to the roots and honor the original vision.”

Victoria, usually so confident, now seemed small and shaken. “You’ll ruin everything we’ve built,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

You shook your head. “No, I’m going to save it. I’m going to restore Velari to what it was meant to be.”

“Good luck finding a new creative director,” another designer sneered.

Suddenly, someone joined in, “She doesn’t have to worry about that.”

You turned around, surprised, and saw a woman who felt so familiar to you. “Andrea,” you said, your expression softening as you recognized her. She was one of the earliest designers who worked alongside your mother and grandmother.

It had been years since you last saw her, and now she had grey hair. Andrea crossed her arms and stood beside you. “It’s time for a change,” she said firmly.

You smiled, feeling a surge of hope and determination. With the support of this senior designer, you could revive this fashion line. You placed your hand on Andrea’s shoulder, and both of you walked back into the office together.

As you closed the door behind you, the murmuring outside came to a halt. The employees ran to Genevieve and Victoria, panic in their eyes. “What’s going to happen to us?” one of them asked urgently.

Both women looked just as uncertain. “The HR will inform you as soon as possible,” Victoria said, her voice shaky as she turned and walked away.

Genevieve followed, her usual composure shattered. The remaining employees were confused and anxious, realizing that the power dynamics had shifted dramatically.

👗👗👗👗👗

When Victoria walked out of the building and headed to her car, she saw Bucky getting out of his.

She approached him, “Is this all your doing?”

Bucky ignored her and kept walking, his indifference stinging her deeply. His concern for you over her was palpable. She grabbed his hand, desperate. “We need to talk.”

Bucky pushed her away, his eyes wide with panic. He left her standing there, alone and full of questions.

Why did Bucky react so strongly to her touch? She remembered how he never liked being touched by her. She thought of a friend who acted similarly because they were using drugs.

Could Bucky be using drugs?

Determined to find out, she grabbed her phone and texted someone who might have information on Bucky. Even a small detail could be enough to slander his name.

Late that night, her phone buzzed with a message. After the day’s humiliation, she finally had some good news. She called Genevieve, excitement in her voice. “I’ve got something to silence her.”

She clenched her phone tightly, a sinister smile spreading across her face. Finally, she had a weapon to use against you.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

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@stormy-stardust

@ashdoctor

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He's A Distraction (Central Cee x Reader)

Summary: You're a dedicated student and going to Cambridge and become a doctor is your stars and heavens. To make that happen you have to move schools, a boy was never meant to be part of the picture. But Cench looks so good in it...

Word Count: 2 472

Notes: Sorry this is a bit long, I would love if you guys would send requests.

You scroll fixatedly on your laptop, scanning the screen in intense concentration and stopping each time something caught your attention. Reading the Cambridge Medicine webpage was an addiction; in the past you had tried to dissuade yourself from accepting this, but how could you not when it always stared blankly back at you? Addictive but productive, each time you re-read the sentences you had engraved into your memory you grew closer to your dream. And when you closed your eyes at night, you saw yourself in lavender scrubs and a pearly white lab coat; living your dream of being a Cambridge Alumni doctor.

Three A*s needed for entry motivated you to be an excellent student. You didn't mean to behave exaltedly but your current school was inadequate in innumerable ways. Today in biology, there hadn't been enough dissection kits, so the class had taken notes robotically and brushed over the practical. Defeated, you remembered how you had trudged home dubious; how could a school implore success in its students and not have the right resources? A memory of sitting in an examination room at Queen Victoria's Sixth Form Academy unnerved you, yes, you had sat the scholarship examination. It had been strenuous and the competition in the room had been palpable, even so, you didn't feel as if you could compete successfully. Falling asleep, you were plagued by these worrisome thoughts even in your dreams.

Obnoxiously the sound of your alarm erupted immersing the room and awakening you. Each morning when you woke up, a void would open gaping at you, existing ostentatiously: It was a persisting sense of loneliness at first; an innocuous reminder to cherish time with your parents. But this was difficult when they both left for work as the sun just began to emerge teasingly over the horizon. Your mother worked as a university professor, such a nominal salary for an intelligent woman, and your dad worked as a nurse; anyone could tell you nurses were underappreciated, numbers didn't have to. A smart knock was being emitted from the hallway, who was at the door?

A postman adorned in fluorescents held a letter for you to take, when you hesitated a second too delayed, he dropped it, walking swiftly to his flagged motorbike and zooming down the road. A Queen Victoria's Academy insignia? You felt so inauspicious as you leaned on the door prying the seal delicately open. Covering your face with your hand you peaked at the verdict through the intricate gaps between your fingers. "We would like to congratulate your success on the recent Academic Scholarship examination and invite you to accept a scholarship place with us." No words can grasp your joy it's transcending.

Yawning tiredly, you stretched placing your feet into your fluffy slippers, the night had gone and went without a wink of reprieve - you were consumed with nerves for the day ahead: Your first day at Queen Victoria's Sixth Form Academy. Opening the door, you walked across the creaking timber to make breakfast alone as you did every morning. You were befuddled to see your mother occupied in the kitchen handling an assortment of kitchenware ,readying a breakfast spread; usually you would just eat cereal; before you were pancakes, fresh fruit niftily cut, orange juice and array of salivating dishes.

"Mum why are you not at work?"

"I wanted to drive you for your first day, I can't begin to express how proud dad and I are," she said beaming excitedly.

You sat at the kitchen visualizing your mother's small, slightly dated and mediocre car driving alongside the avant-garde and luxurious cars of your new peers. Your stomach knotted half ominously and half guiltily. She seemed so happy to drive you and had sacrificed work to drive you, your inner monologue whispered insisting to take the bus would leave your mother forlorn.

"I'm glad you're taking me; I didn't really want to take the bus on my first day anyways."

Lies.

The academy's tree-lined boulevard was now in sight, driving alongside it now; planting your face against the misty window, eager to catch a glimpse. Your mother's car was now aligned with the curb which signaled a convenient space to leave; grudgingly you opened the door slowly as if peeking into a foreign world - in a way you were. You breathed in a long breath of courage as you slung your bag across your shoulders.

"Bye mum, thanks for the ride," you said, genuinely grateful.

"My pleasure darling, I love you, see you after school." Your mother grinned, pride cascading her face and carved smile lines. Guilt ebbed slowly as you watched your mother drive away. As her car dissipated to a speck in the distance a humble maroon car pulled to the curb, your mother had dropped you off with a car of a similar stature. You felt an unspoken sense of camaraderie. I'm glad I have someone to share the embarrassment with.

A boy emerged who appeared to be in the upper-sixth form - your year. He didn't seem ashamed of his car or even the slightest bit alienated; instead, he was confident, you could read if from his aura: it preceded him. Staring now, you saw his dark hair which was styled into jaw length box braids. His cutting cheek bones were iridescent, catching the sunlight, and you marveled at the softness of his plum bottom lip...

"I love you mum, thanks for the ride," he spoke to his mother with a genuine smile.

"I couldn't say no after you begged for a ride, could I? Have a good first day, Oakley."

What! He had asked for a ride. The guilt came gushing back, you weren't like him, yes you could relate about your car which was vain and face level. But he appreciated his mother wholly and wasn't attempting a façade to fit in with the elitism around. You felt a searing pang of shame. Frozen in thought you only broke out of this state when you felt dark coffee eyes meeting your gaze. The dwindling blare of the lesson bell dismissed you from the intense, awkward situation. Walking towards the office to meet the enrollment officer you chastised yourself sternly: This was the year of academic success entailing A*s, boys could tear down everything you had worked so hard for in a painful heartbeat.

The enrollment officer had distributed timetables to the small group of scholarship students; some of them gave a condescending air: Almost as if the fact testing had terminated slipped their minds, but most were nice and proffered kind but shy smiles, clipped at the edges with perceptible nerves. You navigated the halls wearily searching for your chemistry lab, the school was grandiose but tastefully understated. The look of old money attracted your gaze, it was a world away from where you had come. Walking the winding stairs, you see your chemistry class meters away from the landing 'room 299.'

Having arrived ahead of time allowed you to peruse the chemistry lab, it was a spectacle. Advanced modern equipment, granite bench tops, the most powerful microscopes... It left you speechless. You were broken from your trance by your classmates trickling in slowly and the booming voice of your new chemistry teacher.

"I am Dr. Olsen, I have a doctorate of chemistry from Oxford itself, trust you are in more than good hands," he paused to chuckle at his own joke but carried on when the students unreciprocated his mirth.

"This is the only chemistry class in the upper sixth form, that should allude to the arduous nature of the course. Therefore, to maximise your concentration I have taken it upon myself to devise a seating plan."

Dr. Olsen trailed off when the class began to groan resentfully.

"You can thank me when you receive your A-level results at the end of sixth form. Right then, in the back row, Y/N and Oakley Caesar-Su, Veronica Windward and Yasser Malik ..."

Oakley, You had been seated next to the boy from earlier this morning. You knew you shouldn't be smiling to yourself, chemistry was an imperative A-level. You weaved yourself to the back row and sat next to him.

"Hi Oakley," your voice had manifested much more timidly than you had expected.

" Yeah hey y/n, call me Cench, only my mum and tired old teachers like this one call me Oakley."

You giggled unexpectedly, he grinned back his gaze lingering. As Dr. Olsen droned on about Titration you took down notes studiously, beside you Cench was doing the same; writing down notes swiftly. You couldn't help but notice his handwriting was neat and prettily round, looking at his notes you dropped your pen. From your stool you reached down to retrieve it, on the way back up you bumped heads with Cench who had thoughtfully wanted to help.

"Oh my days, I'm sorry y/n, you good?" He was asking searching your eyes for signs of hurt.

You went to assure him you were okay when you got cut off by no other than Dr. Olsen...

"You two in the back Oakley and y/n quiet please."

"I am sorry Dr. Olsen I was just _"

"I don't want a justification take notes like everyone else, or get out," he said belittlingly.

Your cheeks got hotter as the class snapped their necks rubbernecking to witness your embarrassment, you looked at your notes mortified.

"Look, Dr. Olsen, You don't have to chat to her that way, she bumped her head and I was seeing if she was okay, yeah." Cench's jaw was locked making his cheek bones even more enunciated.

" Don't talk back Mr. Caesar-Su, detention after school." With an angered demeanor he resumed his lesson. You fought away guilt as you continued taking notes, if only I had gripped my pen tighter.

Trailing the halls advancing towards the exit, you're clouded with gratitude tinged with empathy for Cench, you hadn't meant to get him in trouble. Nor had you meant to tarnish his reputation in front of the strictest teacher. In your periphery you see Cench and your heart soars.

"Hi, Cench, I'm so sorry about earlier, I didn't think you'd get in trouble for trying to help."

"Don't worry about it y/n, that prick shouldn't have -"

"Right, students before we go into the room, these are the rules of after-school detention..." A teacher drawled these words with an expression of boredom.

You gave Cench an apologetic look over your shoulder before you opened the door, you were met by a smile and a shrug of the shoulders from Cench. The whole way home your mind is scattered with intrusive thoughts of him, you don't want them there but you don't want to fight them away either.

Cench's POV:

Detention dragged on just as I thought, thoughts of y/n appeased this listlessness because thinking of her had made it bearable. As we had worked on our assignments in silence I had chosen to continue my English literature essay. I could say I had not made much progress because the silence which filled the room was unsettling, but really it was because it was y/n who occupied my mind. Y/n with her guileless smile, her sharp and dazzling intellect, the clocked tick some more and I spent the time like this: Thinking up an interminable list of why I like y/n. Really and truly I had only met her today, but something about her...

Wrapping a towel around my waist and drying my wet braids, I hear a ping from my phone. 'You have received an email from..." It's a notification from the enrollments officer. Is this about today, I know I went overboard but I wasn't gonna let that prick talk to y/n like that.

I check what she has to say and she's saying I have to pick an extra-curricular to fulfil my scholarship expectations. That's calm, I'll join the Charitable Cause Club, I heard y/n is in it.

Y/N's POV:

At your desk you're riddled with inconsolable worry. In two days will be the chemistry exam which will make thirty percent of your semester grade. Staring at the notes in front of you which feel insurmountable you begin studying. It is well after midnight when you finally turn off your lamp and resign to sleep.

Cench's POV:

Standing around the classroom I see y/n, her eyebrows are nearly touching in what looks like worry while she reads her chemistry notes. I never thought she would panic during exam season, I think she's the smartest in our whole class. Watching her worry like eats away at me I really don't like it.

Lying awake on top of my covers despite the cold. My mind turns to y/n for the infinite time and I stop randomly at the Starbucks order she has in the morning sometimes. A regular matcha latte with two pumps of vanilla syrup and a strawberry icing doughnut embedded with fresh pieces of strawberry. Trust man's not simping... it's deeper than that.

Y/N's POV:

At 7am on a Friday morning, the library is empty. The comforting silence interrupted sporadically by the tinkering of the librarian. Today, is the day of the chemistry exam and no matter how much you study you don't feel ready for the exam. You feel warmth on your head, the feeling of someone watching you so you glance up straight into coffee eyes. It's Cench leaning on a bookcase your favourite Starbucks order in hand. Your heart skips several beats.

"Hi y/n, your such a neek you know, studying at this time." Cench says this as his eyes flick across your face, enthralled.

"I don't know, you can never be prepared enough," you retort, trying to fight a smile from showing on your lips but failing.

"I don't know about that, you'll do great, your as smart as you are cute. Which makes you very smart."

You feel your cheeks getting hotter and you stare blankly at your notebook.

Never taking his eyes off you Cench puts the drink and a paper bag down on the table.

"I got you a little something, good luck, yeah."

You watch him as he walks away, with his bag slung over one shoulder. Suddenly you are filled with the confidence he has in you.

Taking a few sips of your matcha leaves you refreshed, reaching into the paper bag your heart squeezes when you see a strawberry covered doughnut. How did he know. Looking inside the bag for napkins you see a strip of paper, unfolding the paper you read the message.

It says: You should go out with man. Scrolled on the bottom is a phone number.

You gasp earning a reprimanding look from the librarian. Your mind wanders visualising what your date with him will be like.

...

THE END