#about St Pancras

[thebitchforjemcarstairs]

hang on. there is actually a station in london called pancreas?? is it on the red line too this is very important information

i'm not a Londoner, nor from the UK, I don't know if it's on the red line. 😭😭 The only thing I know is that it's the terminus for the Eurostar, coming from Paris. @emmalovesfitzloved could help you with this one.

this is what I found on wiki.

"St Pancras railway station (/ˈpæŋkrəs/), officially known since 2007 as London St Pancras International, is a central London railway terminus on Euston Road in the London Borough of Camden. It is the terminus for Eurostar services from Belgium, France and the Netherlands to London. It provides East Midlands Railway services to Leicester, Corby, Derby, Sheffield and Nottingham on the Midland Main Line, Southeastern high-speed trains to Kent via Ebbsfleet International and Ashford International, and Thameslink cross-London service to Bedford, Cambridge, Peterborough, Brighton, Horsham and Gatwick Airport. It stands between the British Library, the Regent's Canal and London King's Cross railway station, with which it shares a London Underground station, King's Cross St Pancras."

[dreamings-free]

ISAAC 🥹

17/11/23

[anki-of-beleriand]

The Best Kept Secrets - Ch. 1

Summary: Wanda was on the verge of breaking down when she was called to attend her brother's engagement party. Alone and unable to keep up with her father's expectations she makes a deal with the devil that would lead her to discover a side of her that may either destroy her or bring the happiness she so craves for herself.

Pairing: Female!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: au, Moder setting, No powered charcaters, cheating, idiots in love, unrequite/requited love, jealousy, drama, angst, broken hearts, homophobia, more warnings as chapters come in.

Author's Note: Hello guys! I hope all of you are doing amazing. So, now that I finished two of my favourite stories, I would love to start a new one. Now I need to warn you, this is a real story, some of the events you are going to read happen in real life and of course charcaters had been changed and adapt to fall into place with the story.

Thank you for reading, and giving me the chance to share this with you. Remember English is not my mother tongue, so apologise in advanced for any grammar, spelling or funny mistake you may find in here.

Chapter 1

Nothing to write home about

In the present…

- St Pancras International Railway Station, 3:30pm -

It hadn’t stopped raining since you left home almost two hours ago.

You stood by the platform with your eyes glancing at the empty space surrounding the station, your mind completely blank as you detach yourself from the world. The sound of conversation and laughter grew louder around you, it was a cold day and the jacket barely covering your trembling body; the weight of the last year came crashing down into your soul as the train finally made a stop and people started disembarking scattering around while ignoring your lone figure standing still.

The train was punctual, as always.

You lifted your eyes to the sky, the dark clouds gliding above your head reflecting the storm breaking into your heart.

A lot had happened in a year, and you wished you had been spared the heartbreak of having met the woman that was now haunting your dreams.

You snorted wiping away the tears falling down your cheeks, your hand tightened around the handle. It was not used thinking about the past, nor was it worthy to dwell in it; yet as soon as you went inside the railway truck trying to get away from your life in England.

Your eyes closed tightly, your ears straining to hear the people filling out the wagon as you waited for the train to leave the station. You wished it was easy to forget, that your mind was not fixated on what had happened and that your heart was not so foolish as to hope.

Without opening your eyes, and with your eyes filled with tears you wished, not for the first time, that you could forget…

How everything started a year ago…In the past

“It’s raining.” The voice broke the silence in the library, you snorted leaning back against the chair while holding the book closer to your face.

“This is London, it is always raining.” You replied curtly trying to catch the words on the book before settling down on the table.

You knew it was useless to continue working while you have your roommate tapping on the table with her fingers, you cocked your head raising a brow at her. Natasha Romanoff huffed, tapping rapidly her eyes going from the window to you, then back again.

“What is it?” You finally asked, the young woman shrugged but after you glared at her she rolled her eyes straightening up.

“There is going to be a party, more like a function tonight.” Natasha gauged your expression, her green eyes gleaming with a silent request you were dreading already. “Everyone is going to be there, and I want you to go with me. As a date.”

“As a favour.”

Natasha couldn’t hide her wince, and you could only snort at her obvious attempts to get you on her side. You knew what she was interested in, a blond-haired woman that had caught her attention after a conference in which the woman had charmed her way into Natasha’s mind. The redhead leaned forward placing her hand on yours, there was a soft pleadingly glance in her and you knew you were sold as soon as you made eye contact.

“I really want to see her again,” Natasha was not one to ask for favours, she had learnt from an early age to never let anyone have a hold on her and this petition was something you knew cost her not only her pride but also her confidence.

“What do I gain with this?” You crossed your arms refusing to give into the smile that broke into Natasha’s face.

“Well, for one, you may finally get to meet someone.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, “doubt it. Continue.”

Natasha scowled at that, she really wished you stopped thinking you were not good enough or attractive enough, or smart, and funny, and lovely enough for anyone out there. She knew that you hadn’t had the best of childhoods, and that your experience with friends and relationships had only left a broken mark in your heart and soul.

“This is also a chance to get to know people that may be interested in investing on your investigation,” this time around Natasha could see that she caught your attention, she held back her smile without stopping her rant, “I mean, I know the school has given you full support with the doctorate, but to continue your work you will need someone supporting the investigation.”

You chewed on your lower lip, lowering your gaze for a moment. It was true that you had been looking into someone that might have wanted to be interested in your area of expertise, it was hard as it was to find someone interested in history, much less in founding an investigation on that field. You could know those events usually hosted people whose interest in such topics were what you needed.

“I guess I could go with you,” you finally gave in, rolling your eyes while ignoring the triumphant smirk Natasha was shooting your way. “But I don’t want setups! And I don’t want you pushing me to get the phone number of anyone, got it?”

Natasha hesitated for a moment before she finally gave in, “I promised.”

“Good, then when is this thing happening?”

Natasha’s smirk grew even more, and a feeling of dread settled in your stomach; for some reason, you couldn’t help thinking her smile was hiding her real intentions with this sudden invitation. But your head soon dismissed that thought, even if that was the case, Natasha had always been transparent in her set ups and she had already promised this wouldn’t be one of her plans to set you up with one of her crazy friends.

At least, that was what you hoped for.

   ______________________________________________________________________________________

Kate pursed her lips watching amusedly as Wanda failed her to strike the golf ball with her club. The young woman was grabbing the thing with all her strength while holding her posture just as tense, this was the fifth time she failed to hit the ball and it was going from amusing to just plain pitiful.

“I can’t believe…” Wanda gritted her teeth throwing the club to the ground, Kate came right at her holding her tightly while she sobbed into her arms.

The tension had come after the news of Jarvis’ marriage reached out to them; it had been a normal day at the club. Nothing too out of the ordinary until one of the oldest ladies in the club came to Wanda’s mother with the latest news about the young hair to the Jarvis fortune. He had married the woman of his dreams, the one he had been dating officially while messing around with Wanda just before leaving her humiliated and broken-hearted.

The man had done anything and everything he could with the young brunette, he had actually dared to talk about marriage and a future with Wanda until the very end.

“Wanda, dear, you never thought I would actually go through with it, did you?”

The man had said to Wanda after she found out about his fiancée, Wanda had been standing by the door of his flat, the man sneering down at her.

“You were there to help me prepare for my future; you were a good plaything until I have to settle down. I hope you don’t take this personally, but I do need a real woman in my life. Not you.”

Up until then Wanda had accepted the secrecy of her relationship with Jarvis, she had enjoyed the solitude of their relationship until it was quite evident the man didn’t have any intention of presenting her to his family. Or to meet hers.

“I was such an idiot.” Wanda mumbled hugging Kate tightly, wishing they were alone in the golf course.

“No, Wands, he was an idiot. That motherfucker…” Kate said, earning a watery chuckle from Wanda.

Kate placed her hands on Wanda’s arms, she offered a tender smile shrugging.

“Wanda, there was no way for you to know what was happening…”

“I should have known, you know?” Wanda placed a hand on her face, she tried to cover her eyes while letting the pain pierced her skin, with her heart twitching uncomfortably inside her chest. “I wish I could die.”

Kate lowered her gaze, hating to see her best friend in such depression, she hated knowing Wanda had been fighting all her life against her own insecurities and the heartbreaks that come with who she really was and how much she was worth. It had been like that for people like them, everyone thought money was everything, that it would get them happiness, and healthy relationships, but in reality it had broken a deep voice that sometimes they filled with whoever showed them a glimpse of kindness and love.

“Perhaps…I just…” Wanda trailed off, she took a deep breath and then looked away. “Perhaps I was not meant to be loved.”

Before Kate could say anything about it Wanda turned to her, “let’s just keep playing, I want to forget for a moment. Please?”

Kate wanted to say something else, anything to help Wanda through the pain of what had happened in the lapse of a month. Her life had changed, and it seemed as if the world had conspired to make her life a misery. With a last sympathetic glance, Kate Bishop grabbed her club and followed her best friend through the golf course making sure she could vent her frustrations without giving into desperation.

 Afternoon had fallen rather fast for Wanda’s liking.

She sat at the table Wearing the same clothes she had used during her game, the weather inside had worsened with heavy rain falling onto the club's property. She grabbed her cup of tea hearing the story from Gwen who had found Kate and herself resting in a corner of the restaurant. Wanda had drifted away after she started telling them of her oncoming engagement party. 

“Of course the both of you are invited, I still haven't decided on how many people will attend,” Gwen fixed her hair giving a lighthearted giggle, “but let's say that Peter had already panicked and the sheer amount of people we are inviting.”

The conversation could have died there, no more was necessary but Gwen had always been naive and just a little dense about the reality of the world. She settled her grey eyes on Wanda, a twitched of the woman's lips told Kate she should say something but she was too slow to react.

“I have heard from a very good source that Victor Von Doom would be there, and your stepmother has already made arrangements for you to be escorted by him to the reception.” Gwen leaned forward placing her hand on top of Wanda’s one mistaking her dumbfounded glance for one of shocked nervousness.

“Aren't you happy about it? I know he has tried to get into your father's good light. and he even asked Pietro if he could approach you with the intention of dating you.”

“Excuse me?” By now Wanda was trembling indignantly,  she knew pretty well what the intentions of the man were. Ever since she was in high school he had tried to buy her and her father to get access to the family's reputation. 

Wanda despised him, he was an arrogant jerk who could care less about her desires or her feelings. The fact that her stepmother was dealing to get the man into a party that she would potentially attend was insulting and quite frankly disturbing.

Gwen blinked confusedly, grabbing by then the tone of voice from Wanda. Her face fell and Kate felt sympathy for the blond-haired woman who was now fidgeting under Wanda’s glare.

“Van Doom is an imbecile whose reputation has been tainted by his inability to hold a business standing,” Wanda stood up, whatever frustrations she had been experiencing in the last month finally getting the best out of her. “Frankly I pitied the woman that fell into his hands, now Gwen if you excuse me I have a function to attend and I am already late to get ready for the event.”

Wanda stood up leaving the table in a rush, Gwen sat there furrowing her brows torn between being offended and perplexed. Kat stood up as well, she shot Gwen a smile placing her hand on top of Gwen's one.

“You better don't invite that man to the party, Gwen. Wanda really hates him, and the fact her stepmother is messing around to try and set her up would be a door to conflict.”

Gwen shifted frowning, “Kate, I'm looking out for her. It has been so long since she dated someone, we all are getting either married or have a relationship going on whereas she is…alone. It's not right. I was just trying to get her to meet someone, perhaps dated and have a family on her own?”

Kate winced at those words, Gwen had been their best friend for as long as they could remember. But as soon as high school ended it was quite obvious where her interest lay and this had erected an invisible wall amongst them. Gwen looked up at Kate trying to find agreement there, but she knew her friends were free spirits, they were always following their own rules and most of the time Gwen didn't find that wise, or even practical. 

“Look I know that, but Wanda.she is not like that. You know that. For her what she is doing right now is important,and she really does not care for marriage. At least not out of social convenience.” Kate offered a half smile, “you were lucky you met a man you fell in love With and that loved you back, but you know that is not the case and regardless of what you or the others said…”

“Wanda wants to fall in love. To be loved and loved back.” Gwen nodded as if finally understanding, she softened her features, a flash of urgency growing in her grey irises. “Oh, I didn't want to…”

“I know, but Gwen you need to start listening to others and start listening to yourself and stand for what you think is right or not,” Kate hesitated before giving the blond a hug. “It was good to see you, Gwen. Don't be a stranger.”

“Please, tell Wanda I'm sorry and I will make sure no one she doesn't like is invited to my engagement.”

Kate walked away from the place rather relieved to know Gwen found a real man that cherished and loved her dearly. She didn't want to think what would have happened if a different individual had approached Gwen when she was younger. With determination behind her strides, Kate strolled down the halls towards the parking lot. In no time she found the car, Wanda was looking gloomily to the horizon, detached from what was happening around her while the tears gleamed under the thunder breaking into the sky. Kate huffed running under the rain before going into the car.

“Gwen says she is sorry.”

“Hn, okay.” 

Wanda turned the engine on, she grabbed the wheel tightly, breathing deeply. Her face fell for a moment, then with a tired stare she turned to Kate.

“Will you go with me tonight?”

Kate nodded shifting in the seat, “you know I will.”

“Thank you.”

Nothing more was said, but Wanda couldn't stop thinking about her life in the last couple of months. She wished she had never believed the lies woven by Jarvis, that she hadn't fallen in love with the man to the point she was ready to forsake Her family and her life for him. She remembered those moments she shared with the man, his sweet words when taking her out on dates and trips, the moments of passion they shared in her flat and the secrecy with which he held their relationship. She had been such a fool, well-played by a man who looked nothing more than the comfort she could offer while his official girlfriend found herself in the spotlight as the love of his life. Wanda had always felt the twisting pain of the knife in her heart, she had seen the red flags and yet her love for Jarvis had blinded her to all of them.

Now, she was alone, broken, and unloved.

Just as it was supposed to be.

With a sob leaving her lips, Wanda cleared her throat and held back her tears. She needed to stop crying, and she needed to get out of her own misery, her mind turning to her friends and work. If she focused on them, perhaps the dull pain in her heart would recede and she would find peace once more.

_______________________

The moment you were welcomed into the world of Academics, you thought it would be a place where nerds of all ages would be around reading, working on new mathematical theories or perhaps on the newest inventions that would change the world. It was something out of the stereotypical image people had of the academic world.

The were mistaken, of course 

Most of the time you found yourself in fancy dinners, and in multiple conferences in which your main task was to forge some kind of engagement and gain the favour of a rich individual to donate to your investigation, your department or perhaps the school itself.  It was exhausting, you had to smile and shake hands while pretending to like everyone you came across. 

The night was still young, yet you had already caught sight of important personalities attending the function meant to give money and brains to the military. Your eyes caught sight of Jean Gray and her husband Scott talking with Professor Reed and Sue Storm. Then, just as you suspected it, you found Bruce Banner talking animatedly to some woman wearing a military uniform while Another one stood in the distance. If Bruce Banner had come to this meeting then, that meant…

“Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite theorist in the whole wide world!”

You winced hearing the deep, baritone voice of the one and only Tony Stark. You winced and straightened up while turning around, the man was smirking at you with his eyes covered by the shades he usually brought to every event. His hand stretched out, without any hesitation you took it in yours without hiding your perplexity at the encounter.

“Tony.” Your greet was formal, with just a hint of curiosity in it.

“I thought you didn't like these kinds of events.”

“I don't.” Your reply was received with an incredulous stare.

“Then, what are you doing here?”

You wondered the same thing after going back home and getting ready for the night. Natasha had selected your clothes carefully, and her instructions about your behaviour had been quite clear. At the moment, you were just waiting for the redhead to arrive and lead the rest of the night until it was time for her to approach her blond-haired angel.

“You never know where you would find the love of your life, Tony. So, I am here waiting to see if anyone in this forsaken place knows more about arts, science, and books than money and fuckery in general.”

Tony bursted out laughing, placing a hand on your forearm, you snorted, shaking your head while matching the grin the older man wore at the moment. You had been but a teenager when Stark Industries had discovered you in the dirty and forgotten streets of Colombia. A missing child with almost zero chances to grow beyond a mediocre job and education, you had solved a puzzle the Learning and Development department at Stark Industries had devised to hunt for geniuses around the world. Of all the people they recruited at that time, you were the only one that actually got to climb up the ladder inside the Industries and the University.

You had always thought this would earn you powerful enemies, however the total opposite happened and now Tony Stark stood behind you as your protector and main source of income.

“I thought you didn't believe in love.” He stated offering his arm to you, after a moment of hesitation you hooked your arm with his and started walking around the great hall. 

“I don't.” The answer rolled out of your lips with conviction, your eyes sweeping the hall trying to locate Natasha. 

“And yet, I bet you are looking for that one connection that may change your life.” Tony placed a soothing hand on yours, his eyes downcast for a moment.

“Do you believe in love, Tony?”

Tony chuckled, cocking his head, “I do.”

You snorted with a hint of disbelief in your eyes.

“You are a womaniser.”

“Was.”

The word was said with fire and determination, you couldn’t help the surprise in your eyes while the older man shrugged nodding to the balcony. You followed his stare, your eyes caught sight of a group of people talking in The cold of the night. 

“There is someone I want you to meet.” Tony chanted hisnvoice, the sudden hardening of his words Told you he meant business. “He is an old friend of my dad, and has been an important member of the Oxford Board, and a private consultant for the Parliament.”

You raised your brows, now completely at loss as to why Tony was taking you to this person while wondering if perhaps the invitation from Natasha was for another reason. Tony sensed your trepidation, he offered a smile making sure you were looking into his eyes.

“You have the potential to be exceptional, your mind and the way you work are your innate advantages and it is about time you break that comfort zone of yours and start exploring something else.” 

“Tony, I thank you for everything you have done for me, but something like this…” you trailed off when Tony shook his head.

“I know why you have been hiding, but whatever happens you will always count on me.” Tony winked at you resuming his stroll towards the balcony. “Besides, who knows? Perhaps this is what you need to start believing in yourself and you may even find love.”

You held onto your scepticism, you knew the man had a soft spot for you and he has been supporting you from an early age, this was the only reason why you didn't  contradict him and decided to follow him up on his offer. There was nothing wrong with that, after all, and perhaps this encounter would give you the chance to try something new. Something different.

It was a dark and cold night.

The sound of muffled conversation coming from the main hall could barely be heard once they stepped into the balcony. You lifted your face welcoming the cold wind brushing your heated skin, your arms shivered with goosebumps travelling down your back.

You lowered your gaze, finding yourself looking into the deepest shade of green eyes that you had ever seen before. They belonged to a young woman that was wearing a white dress with her hair falling like a cascade of cobalt contrasting with her white, smooth skin and the soft blush on her cheeks. The woman was beautiful, her intense stare caught your breath while your lower abdomen broke into a myriad of fluttering butterflies. Your words caught in your throat, and your mind flash a red warning, as if you were forgetting something important but couldn't grasp what it really was.

It didn't matter, though.

As soon as your eyes found those of the young woman you could only see contempt and just a tad bit of annoyance. You furrowed your brows, confused at her reaction to seeing you. What was with the hate?

“Tony Stark, I didn’t know you were in the country.” 

Your attention was soon claimed by the command hidden behind that voice, your face turned to a mature man with dark, brown eyes and a comforting smile. His eyes shone smartly while they turned from Tony to you then back to the other man, he placed the hands on the armrest on the wheelchair he was sitting in. You tried to focus your attention on him, but the glare coming from the beautiful woman behind him was making it quite difficult to concentrate. 

“I arrived yesterday, and have some business to attend to.” Tony then stretched his hand towards you, stepping aside to give you the spotlight. 

You stood rather awkwardly, the black dress you decided to wear tight around your body with the cold night brushing your skin. The man sitting on the wheelchair lifted a single eyebrow, his lips never lost the kind smile but it were those eyes holding a spark of mischief that made you wonder just what the hell were you missing.

“I want to introduce you to my protegee, Y/N Y/LN.” 

The man nodded towards you, lifting his hand while making sure to never break eye contact. You wiggled, stepping closer and taking the warm hand in yours.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Charles Xavier, at your service.” 

The name clicked inside your head, your eyes went wide while you took in the form of the man then back to Tony who was smiling at you all smugly and proud.

“I’m sorry sir, you said Charles Xavier? As in Profesor Charles?” You asked lifting your eyes when the brunette snorted, rolling her eyes before settling her glare on you.

“The very same, I see my reputation precedes me.” Charles stated highly amused, he gave you a quick glance more to examine you than to actually give a check over. “But the one who is actually surprised is me.”

“You, sir?”

“I am ashamed to admit I thought you were older than what you really are.” Charles stated leaning back, he never lost his smile and his eyes went from you to Tony. 

“That’s a common mistake, sir. But you are really a legend.” This time around you sounded excited to meet the man, Tony puffed out his chest knowing he had done the right thing.

“Oh, please, an old legend ready to give way to the newest generation.” This time around he waved away his hand before turning to the woman standing silently behind him, “let me introduce you to my goddaughter who is uncharacteristically quiet this evening. Wanda Maximoff.”

Now everything came crashing down inside your mind. 

Your arm that was already stretching out to offer your hand stopped midway, your eyes shot up rather quickly and you found yourself looking into Wanda’s own eyes and you understood then and there the resentment. 

You knew that young woman, you had seen her before and had even kissed her once in a public place that ended up with her fighting her boyfriend after the incident. 

The initial shock waved off, your lips broke into an easy smile that soon was joined by your eyes and amusement was clearly drawn in your face. The woman narrowed her eyes, she stepped forward and, not for the first time, she slapped you before turning to the old man who was flabbergasted.

“Uncle Charles, I think I am not feeling well. Thank you for the invite, I will text you as soon as I get home.” Then she turned to Tony, nodding to him. “Mr. Stark.”

You stood frozen in place, your cheek stung with the force of the slap yet you couldn’t help but laugh at what just happened. Charles glanced at you apologetically yet completely curious as to what had gotten Wanda so worked up she decided to slap you in such a public place before leaving without an explanation. 

“Well, it is good to know you are still good at making friends,” Tony said after the initial shock passed, you turned to him placing a hand on your cheek, the smile still on your face. “What the hell did you do to her?”

Charles tilted his head just as interested as Tony with what had just transpired right in front of them. He had known Wanda from birth, and he knew she had quite the temper, but this kind of reaction was something he had never seen before. And if he were to be honest, with how things had been lately, he found refreshing just how full of life she looked just moments ago.

“Hey! I didn’t do anything to her, we just…” You trailed off lifting your arms, Tony rolled his eyes when you waved your fingers trying to find an explanation. “I…we meet under unfortunate circumstances and by those specific circumstances, I may have…well, you know what? I probably deserve the slap, so no harm done.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something when the laughter from Charles caught his attention, you tried to hold back your smile and Tony was actually surprised to see that reaction from the older man. Charles waved his hand away before settling his eyes on you.

“I bet there is an interesting story behind that, but I also know Wanda may be quite explosive at times.” Charles shrugged before grabbing your hand and squeezing comfortingly. “Now, there would be a time for stories, for now I would like to know you more in the professional capacity.”

You furrowed your brows and soon it was quite evident why Natasha had brought you to the function. 

Your life was about to change in ways you never thought possible. 

That was how the story of your heartbreak started.

With a slap and a job proposal.

______________________________________________________________

AN: So, this is the first chapter, i hope you guys enjoy it! tell me what you think and don't forget to like and share it you so want it!

[probablyasocialecologist]

An innovation that propelled Britain to become the world’s leading iron exporter during the Industrial Revolution was appropriated from an 18th-century Jamaican foundry, historical records suggest. The Cort process, which allowed wrought iron to be mass-produced from scrap iron for the first time, has long been attributed to the British financier turned ironmaster Henry Cort. It helped launch Britain as an economic superpower and transformed the face of the country with “iron palaces”, including Crystal Palace, Kew Gardens’ Temperate House and the arches at St Pancras train station. Now, an analysis of correspondence, shipping records and contemporary newspaper reports reveals the innovation was first developed by 76 black Jamaican metallurgists at an ironworks near Morant Bay, Jamaica. Many of these metalworkers were enslaved people trafficked from west and central Africa, which had thriving iron-working industries at the time. Dr Jenny Bulstrode, a lecturer in history of science and technology at University College London (UCL) and author of the paper, said: “This innovation kicks off Britain as a major iron producer and … was one of the most important innovations in the making of the modern world.” The technique was patented by Cort in the 1780s and he is widely credited as the inventor, with the Times lauding him as “father of the iron trade” after his death. The latest research presents a different narrative, suggesting Cort shipped his machinery – and the fully fledged innovation – to Portsmouth from a Jamaican foundry that was forcibly shut down.

[...]

The paper, published in the journal History and Technology, traces how Cort learned of the Jamaican ironworks from a visiting cousin, a West Indies ship’s master who regularly transported “prizes” – vessels, cargo and equipment seized through military action – from Jamaica to England. Just months later, the British government placed Jamaica under military law and ordered the ironworks to be destroyed, claiming it could be used by rebels to convert scrap metal into weapons to overthrow colonial rule. “The story here is Britain closing down, through military force, competition,” said Bulstrode. The machinery was acquired by Cort and shipped to Portsmouth, where he patented the innovation. Five years later, Cort was discovered to have embezzled vast sums from navy wages and the patents were confiscated and made public, allowing widespread adoption in British ironworks. Bulstrode hopes to challenge existing narratives of innovation. “If you ask people about the model of an innovator, they think of Elon Musk or some old white guy in a lab coat,” she said. “They don’t think of black people, enslaved, in Jamaica in the 18th century.”

[hedgehog-moss]

In other news, this week a French publisher on his way to the London Book Fair was arrested by British counter-terrorist police to be questioned about his participation in protests in France.

A French publisher has been arrested on terror charges in London after being questioned by UK police about participating in anti-government protests in France.

Moret arrived at St Pancras [...] with his colleague Stella Magliani-Belkacem, the editorial director at the Paris-based publishing house, to be confronted by the two officers. [...] He was questioned for six hours and then arrested for alleged obstruction in refusing to disclose the passcodes to his phone and computer. [...] He was transferred to a police station in Islington, north London, where he remained in custody on Tuesday. He was later released on bail.

Éditions la Fabrique is known for publishing radical left authors. Moret also represents the French science fiction novelist Alain Damasio and had arranged more than 40 appointments at the London book fair. [...]

[Quoting publishing house’s press release] “The police officers claimed that Ernest had participated in demonstrations in France as a justification for this act – a quite remarkably inappropriate statement for a British police officer to make, and which seems to clearly indicate complicity between French and British authorities on this matter.” [...] “There’s been an increasingly repressive approach by the French government to the demonstrations, both in terms of police violence, but also in terms of a security clampdown.”

(Guardian link - BBC link) (article in French)

The publishing house (here’s their latest statement in French) and the publisher’s lawyer mention that the British police asked him “Do you support Emmanuel Macron? Did you attend protests against the pension reform?” and he was also asked to name the authors with anti-government views that his employer has published. They add, “Asking the representative of a publishing house, in the framework of counter-terrorism, about the opinions of his authors, is pushing even further the logic of political censorship and repression of dissenting thought. In a context of social protests and authoritarian escalation on the part of the French government, this aspect [of the questioning] is chilling.”

Being an accomplice to thoughtcrime by publishing dissident authors gets you treated like an international terrorist now... The publisher’s lawyer suggests that French authorities asked the UK to help them get their hands on the publisher’s contacts in the radical left sphere. But on the face of it, we’ve got: Exercise your right to protest your government in France -> get arrested by counter-terrorist UK police in London. That’s literally the reason he was given for being greeted by police at the train station...

[live-laugh-lenney]

platform roulette | arthurtv

i've seen so so so many of these on my dashboard recently and i loved every single one i read/saw so lots of inspiration has come from it... testing the waters... seeing how well they go down... :)))

yourinstagram never too early to start on the grind. (but first, i need an iced coffee).

user1 where are you going??

user2 that's st pancras right?? international girly!!

user3 is this for an arthur hill video?? man's taking us all international now!! can't wait for the banger video you put together <3333

arthurnfhill Bloody hell, you're there early. -> yourinstagram hurry up, maybe?? -> arthurnfhill @/yourinstagram George was late waking up. Honest. -> georgeclarkeey @/yourinstagram @/arthurnfhill False. I think you will find that it was Arthur making us late... slept through that alarm.

user4 An Arthur Hill x George Clarke video incoming! -> yourinstagram don't you dare forget the little cherub that is @/arthurtv. -> arthurtv @/yourinstagram What have I told you about calling me that??

arthurtv Not very summer attire that jumper... Am I the only one that will be wearing shorts today?? -> yourinstagram preparing for any kind of weather, i guess. you never know what'll happen.

user5 the arthur hill reference in the caption killed me. -> yourinstagram it's a certified banger. (the coffee, not the song, btw). -> user5 @/yourinstagram howling. i love you so much

-

yourinstagram posted a story

[caption] filming something spectacular today 🎥 tagged; arthurtv, arthurnfhill, georgeclarkeey

-

yourinstagram i see you girlies are starved of content. i hope you're hungry...

user1 she's one of us.

user2 oh good lord. where are you?

chrismd10 Thank you so much. My tummy is full up now. -> yourinstagram i left my phone unattended and now have a whole folder in my phone full of their shenanigans today if you want them for the bank later on? ;) -> arthurtv @/yourinstagram Please don't do that.

user3 why is she there??? who is she??? -> yourinstagram i'm one of arthur's videographers, babe... have been for a while. feeding you girls the content you deserve. all the credit that goes to him should go to meee <33

-> user4 you deserve an award for a, the insanely good content you give us. and b, having to deal with the insanity of men when they're drunk. -> yourinstagram The three of them turn into children when they get together and have a few drinks. It's funny watching it unfold.

user5 oh good lord. george and the two arthur's with alcohol can only mean one thing: trouble. -> yourinstagram you're correct. today was like going out with three kids. you'll be able to feel my pain in the video. just you wait for the video to be posted and you'll understand.

-

yourinstagram posted a story

[caption] the perks of filming with arthur hill means i get to break into the arthur hill bank account and order the expensive beers. 🍺 tagged; arthurtv, georgeclarkeey, arthurnfhill

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yourinstagram we somehow ended up in deal and it's become my favourite seaside town this year. platform roulette coming soon!

user1 what the hell have you been doing today?

user2 please tell us when it'll be out. i'm so so excited for this.

georgeclarkeey Of all the content you took and videoed today, you posted that weasel? -> yourinstagram @/georgeclarkeey he's a cute weasel?? -> arthurtv I'd rather be called cherub. -> yourinstagram @arthurtv sorry, my cherub weasel. <33

arthurtv We should go definitely back. -> yourinstagram will you also pay for my train fare like @/arthurnfhill did for me today?? -> arthurtv @/yourinstagram Of course. Not very gentlemanly of me to make my girlfriend pay for a date. -> arthurnfhill @/yourinstagram It was work-related. Wouldn't have paid for you if it was just for fun. x -> yourinstagram @arthurnfhill my resignation will be in the post.

user3 Has YN just hard-launched her relationship with Arthur? -> user1 check out the comments under his comment above. without a doubt... they've not just hard-launched them, they've practically shoved it down our throats. -> user3 @/user1 Oh my god. -> user2 @user1 I KNEW IT!!!! STAN TWITTER CAN DO ONE!!!

[fayes-fics]

A Job Well Done

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Quickie, office sex after being reunited.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, quickie vaginal sex, office sex, semi-public sex, workplace sex, exhibitionism.

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon (ask HERE) who wanted quickie office sex with Benedict. This is lighthearted, almost crack in places tbh. Unbetaed. Thanks to my discord peeps for help with some ideas for this one. Enjoy <3

You barely make it through the door into the fancy corner office before clothing is wrenched open, both so desperate. You’ve been away on a business trip for two weeks, but it feels like two months. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” his words hiss on your lips as your kisses land wet and hot, open mouths just taking from each other.

“I missed you too,” you can barely gasp, fighting off your knickers under your skirt.

“Shouldn’t we wait until we can go to one of our places after work?” he checks.

“No, here,” you insist and back yourself against the wall, pulling him by the open fly right into you, moaning at the crush of his chest against yours.

“Really?” he sounds disbelieving, even as you roughly yank down the front of his underwear and shimmy it down his hips along with his trousers.

“Yes, really. Just make it quick,” you confirm, wiggling your skirt up around your waist, revelling in his groan as you grab his cock and pump it in your hand, standing on tiptoe to line him up with your aching pussy. 

He splutters the most adorable noise as his hot tip slides inside you, and you groan loudly in his ear.

“Say you are going to fuck me til I can't walk straight,” you command through gritted teeth.

“Okay… that,” he stumbles, still slightly stunned by the speed and ferocity this is happening at.

“Say it!” you demand.

“You already did!”

You grab his face and make him look into your eyes. “Ben. I need you to say the filthiest things to me. I'm so horny, please; don't be embarrassed.”

“We are at work! Isn't it enough we are doing this in full view of London and its recently arrived visitors!?” his voice slightly incredulous, gesturing vaguely at the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the crowds pouring out of St Pancras International a couple of storeys below.

“The glass is mostly reflective; they can probably barely see us,” you dismiss, hands grabbing his bottom and sinking fully onto his cock. “Fuck yesssss!” you hiss, eyes rolling back at the sheer delight of being so filled again.

“Is this revenge?” he exhales raggedly, a hand heavy on your hip as he adjusts to your heated cling. “Fucking in Ant’s office? Cos your PA told you he fucked Kate in yours?”

“Maybe,” you look askance, feeling called out but still pushing up onto tiptoes and sinking back down again as he groans with you.

His face morphs into a crooked grin, and his tone changes. “Well, why didn't you say before?” his voice turning into a velvet rumble. 

You gasp as he grabs one of your legs, hooks it over his arm and proceeds to take control just as you wanted. You moan your appreciation as he immediately starts to slam into you. You make a quick mental note that family oneupmanship is apparently an excellent motivator for him before you lose all capacity for thought.

If HR ever finds out about this, an executive fucking a junior colleague, there will probably be trouble—so it's a good thing HR reports to you. You co-founded this business with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and have run it successfully together for the last five years. Three months ago, Anthony brought his younger brother into the firm in a decidedly nepotistic hire of in-house graphic designer after his art business stalled. You fought Anthony about the optics of it until about three seconds after you clapped eyes on one Benedict Bridgerton. And then, well, you agreed your company definitely needs someone to design PowerPoint templates or whatever he does. You resisted flirting with him for precisely two weeks, just enjoying his arse walking up and down the corridors every day doing fuck knows what.

But then it was the work party, and honestly, who can be held responsible when Anthony manages to score a whisky sponsorship? You'd be a lousy co-founder if you didn't indulge, frankly. And so you did. And you proceeded to flirt outrageously until Benedict took you up to the roof terrace and had you screaming at the London skyline. Since then, well, you've been together at every opportunity. It's especially thrilling that Anthony doesn't have a damn clue about it, either.

“I'm going to fuck you til you can't walk straight,” he growls, just as you wanted, slamming into you so hard your bra strap catches on the textured wall through your shirt.

“Oh fuck yes,” you mewl your appreciation, tipping forward to bite his neck, not entirely gently, until he hisses and moves faster.

Then, as if he can read your mind, still buried inside you, he suddenly picks you up, spins around, and almost throws you down onto Ant’s glass desk, never leaving your body.

“Oh, you fucking genius,” you compliment, grabbing his shirt greedily and pulling him on top of you, uncaring that you are sending Ant’s stationery and fancy tchotchkes flying. Your mouths meet in an artless, hot-breathed kiss, and then he starts to move again, wrapping your legs around his hips and standing up to drive into you hard.

You start to yell his name and all the praise you can think of, knowing Ant’s office is soundproofed like yours. His cock drags all the places inside that turn off your brain, not capable of anything but chasing more and now and more again. 

“Not so sure the glass is particularly reflective, by the way,” he states almost casually as he keeps pounding into you. “Pretty sure we are drawing a crowd.”

“Then fuck me really good,” is your only breathy response, unwilling to tip your head back and look down at the people below. At least at this angle, they shouldn’t be able to see his cock ploughing into you. And everything else is covered by clothing… mostly. You could just be having a very vigorous wrestling match. Kind of.

“Exhibitionist, hmm?” he hums, leaning over you and kissing down your neck.

“You’re the one who took me on the roof terrace our first time,” you point out, closing your eyes and enjoying the slide of his warm lips on your skin as he thrusts so deep you swear you’ll still feel it tomorrow.

“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs, bemused, a little out of breath now, his tongue lathing hot on your throat.

Then, there’s no talking for a while as you skate closer to your peaks. Desperate hands grab bodies and table edges, growling and moans, hot wet kisses, the sturdy glass desk withstanding his harsh strokes even as your whole body rolls on the surface. 

Then, with a dangerous smirk, he winds a hand between your bodies and flicks his thumb against your clit, and you scream. It’s the little extra sensation you need to break, calling his name, your nails scratching down his clothes, biceps clinging to him as your pussy clenches hard around him, floating somewhere on a blissful cloud, eyes screwed shut, as he growls at your vice-like grip on his cock. A few artless thrusts, and then he is stilling, groaning loudly in your ear and collapsing on top of you as he spills inside.

After a few panted moments, you feel yourself returning to the room, the power of speech returning.

“Oh god, that was just what I needed,” you huff, sated, a fuzzy, languid, bone-deep satisfaction only he can seem to provide. 

“You are welcome, boss,” he sasses with a playful smirk.

“You don’t report to me,” you point out, swatting his arm gently.

“Shame… I think I���d get an excellent review and a hefty raise if I did,” he gloats a little, dropping a quick kiss on your lips.

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” you volley back, pushing him off your body and standing up, shuffling your skirt back down your legs. 

You feel a little unsteady in your gait as you dip down to collect your underwear from the floor.

“There are, however, two things you can do for me?” you smile as he rezips.

“Anything…” 

“Tidy your brother's desk,” you nod towards the mess. He rolls his eyes, accepting his fate, seeing as it was his decision to throw you upon it.

“And?” He prompts you for the second thing as you make final adjustments to your appearance.

“Be naked in my bed by the time I get home,” you breeze as you reach for the office door handle. “Feel free to tie yourself spread eagle to the bedposts if you’re feeling adventurous,” you end with a wink.

“How exactly am I supposed to do that with only one set of hands?” you hear him call after you as the door closes behind you.

With a huge grin, you saunter down the corridor, phone in hand, already texting him a reply.

Y/N: You’ll figure it out. You’re the artist, after all.

BB: I’m a landscape painting artist, not an escape artist.

Y/N: potayto, potatoh…

BB: I’m getting a round of applause from what looks like a stag do outside, by the way…

Y/N: See? There’s your glowing performance review. 

BB: … 🤷‍♂️

Y/N: 😘

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

[pure-ablution]

City guide: London?

London is the nearest major city to me for much of the year, and I’m there an awful lot for all kinds of meetings and appointments. I’ve made a point of trying to step away from the basic clubs and restaurants popular amongst the usual set in the capital, and instead finding a few different places that I think are genuinely worth their while, even if they’re not the places to see and be seen. This is my own little personal directory of my top 3 (not ranked in any kind of order) for each major category—prices range, but the experiences remain top-notch, in my book.

Restaurants and bars:

German Gymnasium

1 King’s Boulevard, N1C 4BU

This lovely German restaurant is right next door to St Pancras station, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve stepped off the Eurostar and sunk into a seat at the bar here. It’s a big place, so there’s no worrying about getting a table, but it still manages to feel private and not too open despite its being housed in a former gymnasium. The staff are very attentive, and the food is both excellent and plentiful—this isn’t nouvelle cuisine in any description! Be prepared for very hearty German dishes which, although perhaps not as authentic as one might find in Germany itself, are delicious and hearty.

Le Beaujolais

25 Litchfield Street, WC2H 9NJ

This is a gorgeous, cosy little bistro and one of my favourite places in London for late-night catch-ups with old friends. Its wine list is quite extensive (ask politely behind the bar for the hidden gem list!) and the sharing platters on offer are a refreshing change from French haute cuisine in the capital, instead serving much more rustic and traditional dishes. A luxurious experience this is not, but it’s very fun, and I always meet some new and interesting people every time I pay Le Beaujolais a visit.

Gordon’s Wine Bar

47 Villiers Street, WC2N 6NE

Gordon’s is the oldest wine bar in London, and I don’t think the décor has much changed since it first opened! There’s always a queue in the evenings, so I recommend booking ahead, but once you’re inside, it’s a lovely experience. The little plates of cheese and bread to go with the wines are always very fresh and tasty, and, of course, the wines themselves are amazing. This isn’t a place only for wine buffs, I see a lot of people on dates whenever I visit, but the staff and many of the patrons are extremely knowledgeable, and you can always have a great conversation with a fellow aficionado if you look out for one.

Museums and libraries:

Victoria & Albert Museum

Cromwell Road, SW7 2RL

This is my absolute favourite of the big London museums, and probably one of my favourite museums in the whole world. I love the V&A. It’s a gorgeous space, the permanent collections form a fascinating journey through the history of decorative arts and design, and the temporary exhibitions are always incredible. It’s the world’s biggest museum of applied arts, and houses 5,000 years’ worth of textiles, jewellery, furniture, prints, and much, much more. I could spend weeks at any given time in the V&A, I just adore it.

The London Library

14 St James’s Square, SW1Y 4LG

I like to have the name of a pretty, quiet little library for each city in the back of my mind, just in case I have a little work to do or a few hours to kill, and the London Library fills that slot for me in London. It’s not as extensive as the British Library, nor as beautiful as some of the university libraries in the capital, but it’s exactly what I like, in a very convenient location for me. I pay an annual membership fee, and it’s worth it to me for the peace and quiet, the excellent staff, the open access policy, and the surprisingly extensive collection of books housed here. It’s a real hidden gem and one that I’m very grateful for.

The Wallace Collection

Hertford House, Manchester Square, W1U 3BN

I love a house museum, and I think that the Wallace Collection is an incredible example by which others ought to follow. It’s a large collection of fine and decorative arts, originally built by Sir Richard Wallace alongside the Marquesses of Hertford, in whose London townhouse the collection is held. The Wallace Collection houses one of the most important collections of 18th-century French decorative arts in the world, and puts on some extremely interesting temporary exhibitions programmes—even just browsing their exhibit archives is enough to inspire me!

Beauty and wellness:

Pied de Poule

67 Mortimer Street, W1W 7SE

One of the nice things about London is the comparatively vast selection of Slavic beauty salons and providers available, and Pied-de-Poule is my favourite spot to call upon if I’m in dire need of an instantaneous makeover. I trust the beauticians here with my hair, makeup, and nails, and—in true Eastern European fashion—they’re capable of deploying their staff to carry out multiple services simultaneously, which saves me a huge amount of time in a city that moves fast. Pied-de-Poule is a chain franchise with branches in Ukraine and Poland, and although I wouldn’t pick them over other options back home, they provide a very respectable service and I’m very happy to use and recommend them in London.

Jinny Beauty

71 Kingston Road, KT3 3PB

It’s not quite in London proper, but it’s definitely worth the trek out to New Malden to visit Jinny Beauty if you’re in search of a good facial. This Korean salon has been providing locals with glowing glass skin for over 20 years, and I love that I can go straight to Jinny and trust that I’ll receive an incredible massage combined with top-of-the-range equipment, including Hydrafacials, oxygen therapy, and ultrasonic treatments. If you’re looking for a proper, full-spectrum Korean aesthetic spa in England, Jinny is the best place for it, in my opinion, and the girls there are incredibly friendly, skilled, and knowledgeable about what they do.

New Docklands Steam Baths

30a Stephenson Street, E16 4SA

This place has recently had a bit of a makeover, but it’s still far from glamorous, so I’ll let you search up interior photos for yourself and just give you the exterior for now. New Docklands isn’t for people who are looking for a luxurious sauna experience, it’s in a grotty area, and intended for expats and immigrants who are desperate for a good steam, and that’s what it does well. The steam is great, the clientele is a mixed—but always entertaining—bag, and I’d say that this is something similar to the Russian Baths in NYC, only without the cult status. The staff are helpful, the facilities are very clean, and I’d recommend sticking to the women-only sessions on Wednesdays and leaving your fancy things at home.

Shopping:

Liberty

Regent Street, W1B 5AH

I’m not all that bothered about Harrods or Selfridge’s, but I’m a huge, huge fan of Liberty. It’s just a little bit more quirky compared to other department stores, and I always find something unusual wandering around the gorgeous mock-Tudor building. Liberty is the artistic choice, I think, and I love that it supports and champions emerging brands, artists, and designers, instead of sticking to the tried-and-tested. Their own range of fabrics, of course, are stunningly beautiful, and the staff exceptionally helpful without being overly attentive to the point of bothersome—something that often grates on me in other shops.

Sign Of The Times

5 Elystan Street, SW3 3NT

Sign of the Times began as a celebrity consignment store, and it still specialises in vintage designer and luxury brands. It’s generally my first stop if I’m struggling to find a specific piece from an old collection. The shop itself is very curated, and I’ve often found a lovely piece I didn’t even know existed just popping in during a free five minutes. Lorraine, the owner, is incredibly knowledgeable about fashion history, and she’s been able to advise me better than anyone else when it comes to more niche brands, items, and provenance. You pay for the experience and expertise, of course, but if you’re a collector or serious fashion enthusiast, then I recommend Sign of the Times wholeheartedly.

Sunbury Antiques Market

Kempton Park, TW16 5AQ

I’m not a big fan of the independent antiques scene in London, especially the markets, and I’d always recommend looking elsewhere to scratch your flea market itch—but Sunbury is pretty good, and the closest you’re probably going to get within Greater London. It’s a big, big market, and you’ll need to come prepared to scrape your knees kneeling on the floor, sift through piles of dust and rubbish, and haggle like your life depends on it, but I’ve always come away feeling triumphant at the end of it all. I recommend arriving early, before 8am if possible, having a clear idea of what you’re looking for (and what price you’re willing to pay), and wearing tough jeans and sneakers you don’t mind getting a bit filthy.

[kidlit-queen-competition]

Train fact: NAMED TRAINS!

So you've probably heard of the Flying Scotsman. Big green thing, turned 100 this year, probably the most famous locomotive in the UK, if not the world. Adapted into Thomas the Tank Engine with a whole lot of charisma and eyebrows. But did you know that name wasn't hers originally?

'The Flying Scotsman' is actually the name (formerly a nickname) of the train. The locomotive is Flying Scotsman's monster named for it. She was given the name in 1924, to help promote said service at the British Empire exhibition. Any engine, with any rack of coaches, or any train set, can be the Flying Scotsman.

Right now, it's run by LNER's new Azumas, which get a special little outfit about it:

Most of the named trains in the UK were phased out with steam (although you can still catch the Sheffield continental from Sheffield to St. Pancras, or the Northern Lights from King's Cross to Aberdeen, among a handfull of others) but they live on elsewhere.

Some are luxury touring trains, like Japan's Seven Stars in Kyushu (left) or South Africa's Blue Train (right).

Transport isn't really the goal here. They sell out months in advance and cost anywhere from hundreds to thousands of dollars, depending on the class of ticket you get. They're an Experience, and a very cushy experience at that. Just look at their interiors!

(yes, that's a piano)

But the vast majority of named trains in operation (as far as I can tell) are regularly-running exepress services across Asia.

Japan names their Shinkanens, India, Pakistan, Bengladesh & Sri Lanka often name their intercity expresses. These are practical, long-distance services, often named for monuments, like India's Ajanta Express, named for the Ajanta caves:

Or their operating regions, like Sri Lanka's උත්ත�� දේවී | Princess/Queen of the North:

Some North American countries also kept historic named routes, like Amtrak's Sunset Limited, or Canada's Ocean, which has operated continuously since 1904:

but my personal favorite named services are Australia's historically-nicknamed "The Fish", named after one of its drivers:

and the numerous trains that have been companion-nicknamed "The Chips" to match.

[sneverussape]

many the miles, 1/2

evans!severus au

the one where 13yo severus sneaks off to cokeworth and unwittingly gets caught by his older sister, and they both end up on a train to the midlands OR a long meandering sibling-focused two-shot that i've been dying to write because these two wouldn't stop arguing in my head and it was driving me NUTS

wc: 6866 (more or less)

cw: mentions of epilepsy, growing up in the 90s/2000s, discmans, Fruit Polos (rip), being yelled at by older siblings in public places, 2000s eyebrows, swearing, whatever else

for @greens-your-color :)

--

“Severus!”

Severus froze mid-step at the sound of his name being called among the crowded orange halls of St. Pancras. It had been faint, as though coming from a distance or a fading dream, and his first thought was to consider whether his new potions regimen included late-onset hallucinations.

Fantastic, he thought grimly, but proceeded to steel himself to accept the possibility with reluctant grace. When his name was called out loud again, however, and this time with a hard edge, he frowned and quickly reconsidered the odds, deciding that hallucinations didn’t normally grow louder or fiercer as time went on. Besides…hallucinations didn’t tend to make Mercutio react, and as it was, he had already turned to face the opposite way, his massive tail thumping hard against Severus’ leg.

“Severus!”

There was something in the way his name was said that instinctively made him spin on his heel so fast that he nearly got whiplash. At first there wasn’t anything worth noting, but soon enough his eyes focussed beyond the crowd and he was met with the sight of a rather familiar blur of wild blonde hair and clenched teeth running towards him with all the speed and rage of a charging Erumpet…if said Erumpet was just over five feet and wore paint-stained overalls with their mother’s soiled red wellies (exactly the ones she usually wore when mucking about the garden and which he knew a fox had pissed on just days before).

His jaw seemed to unhinge, and he felt himself gaping in disbelief. Alarm flared hot and heavy in the pits of his stomach.

“Petunia…?!” Severus said with no small amount of trepidation. Between the possibility of being subjected to medication-induced hallucinations or his indignant older sister, he much preferred the former than the latter. Hell, death would be the preferred option to Petunia in a massive strop. His instincts screamed at him to run and find a dark corner to hide, but his trainers stayed firmly glued to the spot as he watched the figure approach.

Please don’t be her…please don’t be her, he found himself wishing, though he knew it was futile. The figure had already stopped in front of him, red-faced and breathless from the run, with the look of a creature possessed. Their chest heaved and their eyes flashed, and within the stuttering silence, there was a brief moment when Severus still held out the hope that this could all be a dream—

“You little…shit.”

A manicured nail poked him in the chest. Hard. Severus winced. Definitely (and unfortunately) not a hallucination then. Mercutio yipped again, happily. The traitor.

Severus held up his hands as though he was under arrest. Well, he technically was.

“Hang on—ow! Hang on, I can explain…” Raw fear made his words skitter and stumble past his teeth. His tongue had gone dry and suddenly wanted to make a home for itself on the roof of his mouth. “Listen, Toons, it’s not what you think—”

“No, no, no, you listen! Just what do you think you’re doing, Severus Tobias Evans?!”  As though on cue, Petunia exploded, and Severus was suddenly awash in a tirade that rang and echoed across the station’s stone walls in a manner that would rival any well-placed Sonorous. “Do you know how worried I was?! I took my eyes off you for one hour and I came back to find your room empty with nothing but a cryptic note on your desk and the last redialed number on the phone one to a cab company leading here! It cost me sixty quid to get here, mind! Sixty! I’ve not washed my hair and I’m supposed to be revising for my exam! I only agreed to watch you for Mum and Dad since they said you were ill and not having lessons today. You’ve no business to be here. WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

Severus grimaced as Petunia shouted the final question, his ears burning something fierce. He hadn’t seen or heard her that furious in ages. The last time he could remember that she had exploded the same way was when he and Lily had been experimenting with their magic a year or so before they got their Hogwarts letters: they had ended up lopping the tip of Lily’s finger clean off and had attempted, quite unsuccessfully, to fix it themselves. Petunia had reached a similar volume then (possibly due to the amount of blood on the kitchen floor), but that one at least hadn’t been a public bollocking – she had calmed down enough by the time they had run over to Andi and Ted to ask for help, and had subsequently handed the reins off to the Tonkses for a second dressing-down; the memory of a particularly potent stinging hex against his palm wasn’t something Severus would soon forget.

This time it was different. They were out in the open and Lily wasn’t available for him to tag team with. If Lily had been there, she’d have likely covered for him so this entire situation wouldn’t even be happening. But as it stood, he now had to deal with an irate Petunia all on his own where strangers could ogle at them, and wasn’t that a treat?

“It isn’t what you think it is.” Severus forced himself to speak, although his voice was higher than he’d like. “It really isn’t.”

“Oh it isn’t? Because what I think is that you’re in heaps of trouble and that’s not even the whole of it.” Petunia spoke in a tone that eerily sounded like their mother’s and it made Severus’ skin crawl.“This really has to be the most idiotic thing you’ve done, Severus. Congratulations, you’ve exceeded expectations entirely with this act. What on earth could possibly justify your being here—”

She stopped mid-rant and Severus saw as she focused on the rucksack he was carrying, her eyes wide as they traveled up to his face. “Hang on, what is that?”  She gasped, looking genuinely aghast. “Severus, are you running away?”

Severus groaned, resisting the urge to slap his forehead with his palm. Of course his sister would jump to that conclusion. “I just told you it isn’t what you think it is! I’m not running away.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to think given that we’re in a bloody train station and you’ve a bag with you! It’s not like I’ve caught you lollygagging at the corner store!”

“Toons, just—” He was getting equally frustrated and had to resist with his entire being from telling Petunia to just shut up for a bloody minute to make his ears stop ringing and from bringing them further embarrassment. God, he hoped none of the people around them knew who they were. “It really is going to be fine, just let me…” His words were starting to fail him again, and Severus clenched his fists at his sides. “Look. It’s only a daytrip, I promise. I’ll be back even before Mum and Dad get home, but you have to let me do this, Toons. Trust me.”

The shade of red Petunia’s face turned into wasn’t one he had ever seen on any living person before.

“Trust you—?! Severus, you’re thirteen! I can’t even trust you with a pocketbook of matches! And a daytrip? Are you mad?! Are you playing hookey just to go on holiday? Are you…” And this time, Petunia was mindful enough to look round and lower her voice before speaking the next sentence: “Are you going to Hogwarts, because I swear if you are—”

“What? No!” Severus frowned. “Why would I go to Hogwarts?” The first term for that year had barely started, and besides, he had already gotten approval to have several Advanced lessons that wouldn’t be taught to Lily and the rest of their class until later in the year. Apart from wanting to visit his sister, Hogwarts held very little appeal for him.

“How am I supposed to know what goes on in your head?” Petunia fumed. “Mum and Dad gave me specific instructions to keep an eye on you today because they said you were ill.” She peered closer at his face. “But you’re not, are you? You’re sneaking off to God knows where while they’re away!”

Severus felt himself flush. He hadn’t needed any of Lily’s Fever Fudge to fool his parents earlier that morning before they had left for their outing, but being called out on it now made him feel several levels of shame that he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. Petunia hadn’t even tried to see if he had a temperature; she had already cottoned on.

“Technically,” he muttered, “I am ill…with a chronic condition…”

“Oh, Severus!” Petunia exclaimed, and she really did sound like their Mum when she was at the end of her tether. It was freakishly uncanny. “How could you lie to them about this? Do you know how worried they constantly are about you? How I—” She stopped herself mid-sentence before consciously attempting to regain her composure. After a few uneven breaths, she leveled a glare at him.

“Right, you are going to explain now,” she ordered, her voice now deadly calm. “Or I’m phoning Mum and Dad, and you will be in so much trouble I doubt you’ll even be let out until you’re eighty.”

“You wouldn’t! That’s not fair!” Severus gasped. The worst possibility he’d considered in his plan was having his parents overly worry, causing them to stay behind. Careless as he was with many others’ feelings (his sisters sometimes included), his parents were the utmost exception and he took great care of theirs above all else, since he often despised how much they had to pause their own lives for his sake. The thought of his plan unraveling in such a way that it would make them cancel their holiday altogether made him sick to his stomach. Mum had even bought an entirely new wardrobe for it even though they were only going to be gone for the day. “They’ve been looking forward to this outing for months!”

“Well bully for you, I guess you should have stayed home like you were supposed to, then.” Petunia crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head. “Talk,” she commanded.

Oh, Petunia was a tough nut to crack. If it came down to it, he knew she’d force the answers out of him somehow. Sometimes, Severus was glad his older sister wasn’t magical at all; he was sure she’d end up an Unspeakable, and the thought itself was enough to make him shudder.

“I really am not running away...” Severus said, and it took all his willpower to not allow his voice to tremble. He wasn't afraid, how could he be? Petunia was the height of a Christmas elf. But his knees felt weak all the same. And did his voice just break? Merlin. “Everything was all planned out. I put out a note just in case, but I wasn’t really expecting you or anyone else to find it.” He felt very much like a child as Petunia raised a razor-thin eyebrow at him (it looked so awful, why was this a fad? But both his sisters would kill him if he ever so much as breathed his opinion about them), but somehow managed to ramble on. “Anyway, I was going to go and be back before anyone could find out.”

“How could you think I wouldn’t check on you at any point?” Petunia looked deeply unimpressed which, honestly, was her default expression, but this time it seemed more pointed. “I would have had to make sure you hadn’t died before Mum and Dad came home…” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Severus, did you ward your room?”

Bleeding buggering hell, his sister should have really just joined the police force. An economics degree or whatever it was she was in uni for would be far too dull for her. Having Petunia as a copper would lower the crime rate in Britain to single digits, he reckoned. Between him and Lily, she had already garnered enough practice.

As in that moment, when the stilted silence between them already gave her the confirmation she needed.

“Severus Tobias Evans!” Petunia thundered, anger flooding her features once more. “How could you do such a reckless thing! You know Mum and Dad specifically told you to not put any kind of ward or charm on your room…it’s not safe!”

This time it was Severus’ turn to glare. Although he knew his family’s rules and their protectiveness always meant well, he couldn’t help but feel suffocated when they insisted on his safety as though he was made of spun glass.

“It was just the one time and you broke through well enough!” He said hotly. “That shouldn’t have even been possible with the Notice-Me-Not up!”

He was equally annoyed and perplexed at having been caught, especially knowing that it was due to Petunia being unaffected by the charm enough to enter his room. His sister was notoriously averse to magic, and simple charms usually worked on her effortlessly. To his surprise, Petunia scoffed at his statement. She raised her wrist and showed the bright green bracelet clasped around it. The same bracelets their parents wore, all of which were in the same fluorescent color as Mercutio’s enchanted emergency collar. Severus groaned, recognizing it right away.

“You’re bloody joking! How do you have one?” Part of him wanted to throw a tantrum, as pointless as it was. The bracelet would make Petunia the third person to have the ability to know of his general well-being whether he wanted them to or not. The very thought made him want to snap it off and chuck it into the Thames. “St. Mungo’s said it was only for parents and guardians!”

“I asked, and they gave me one when I came of age,” Petunia said snootily. “Your little tricks don’t work when your safety is concerned. The bracelet started growing warm all of a sudden this morning and I knew you were up to something. Now here I am, and my toast has been abandoned and is growing cold in the kitchen as we speak.”

“You were supposed to be revising for exams. I checked your timetable and everything and Mum had left me sandwiches in my room so you wouldn’t need to bother.” Severus was fuming. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t even think of giving me lip,” Petunia snapped at him with a warning tone that instantly made him internally recoil, although he continued to glare at her. “And of course you went through my things even though I’ve told you a million times not to! And…hang on…if you bunked off your tutors today then even Andi doesn’t know your little scheme, whatever it is. She wouldn’t have expected you at her house today for lessons.”

It was more a statement than a question and Severus flinched. He had been avoiding trying to think of what Andi would do to him once – if – she found out.

“It would have been fine…” he said as he unconsciously rubbed his palm where Andi’s stinging hex had last been cast.

“Oh fine, he says!” Petunia’s sudden outburst earned them a few startled glances. “This is not fine, Severus, if you still haven’t noticed. You’ve told no one? Are you daft? If anything happened to you whilst you were out…we wouldn’t even know where to start!”

“I was only going to be gone for a couple of hours.” Severus couldn’t understand what she was so worked up about. In his mind, his plan made perfect sense. “I’ve been gone for longer to the library.”

“You’re comparing this to a trip the library, really? Have you utterly lost all sense? Do you truly not understand the danger…?!” At Severus’ defiant expression, Petunia groaned. “Seriously, I am going to end up tearing my hair out…what if you had gotten kidnapped? Mugged? What if you had become seriously ill at any point?”

Her eyes flashed at the words, although he needed no cues, verbal or otherwise, to understand what it was she was referring to. He crossed his own arms, mirroring his sister’s defensive pose.

“I wouldn’t have,” he said with full confidence. “But even if I had a fit, it would be fine. I’ve been taking my po—medicines, and Mercutio’s here—”

“Mercutio wouldn’t have been able to protect the people with you, you absolute numpty!” This time, Petunia didn’t look angry but terrified. “Did you not consider that in your grand plan? Mercutio could get you to hospital but someone apart from you could get seriously hurt with your…abilities…and then where will we all be? I don’t fancy being in prison—in either world! Mum and Dad either, mind!”

Severus felt the blood drain from his face at her words. The image of a train suddenly exploding mid-track and people losing assorted limbs due to his accidental magic ran unbidden through his mind’s eye and made him wince. It was true that he had only considered what would happen to him if he had gotten a fit at any point during the trip; he had forgotten about its effects on other people entirely. His family and the Tonkses and his tutors always seemed to know what to do…but he hadn’t planned on them being with him, had he?

Suddenly, Petunia being so spitting angry no longer seemed as ridiculous given that perspective.

Merlin’s bloody bollocks, he was a knob.

“I…” he licked his lips. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean…Look. Toons.” He attempted to placate his sister by being entirely upfront. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“That much is obvious.” Petunia snapped, before releasing what sounded like a pent-up sigh. She took a long pause before she reached for his hand. Her fingers were cold as she squeezed his. 

“Listen, Severus, you honestly frightened me to death. Now…I won’t tell Mum and Dad, but let’s just go home, all right? Let this be the end of the adventure. We’ll forget about this and maybe I won’t use it as leverage against you in the future. All right? Let's just go.”

She tugged him in the direction of the exits, but he resolutely stayed put. Grateful as he was for his sister’s reprieve (a rare treat as far as he was concerned), he knew he couldn’t go. This had taken months of planning and he had already come so far.

“No,” he shook off Petunia’s hold. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to go today. It’s my only chance.”

“To do what?” Petunia, bless her, looked as though he’d hit her with an extremely powerful Confundus but was expending all her energy to fight it off. She pressed her palms against her eyes. “Go where? Severus, are you actually delirious? I don’t understand—”

“Cokeworth.”

“WHAT?” Petunia dropped her hands to gawk at him, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. Her lips moved almost involuntarily although no further sounds came out. When her vocal chords seemed to have caught up with her, it was for high-pitched hissing and sputtering, making her sound rather like an anaphylactic snake, or an irate tea kettle.

“I’m sorry, you were planning to go where? The Midlands? NOW?”

“Yes.” Severus fished around in his pocket and produced the tickets he’d already bought. He’d saved his pocket money for weeks for this trip, and he’d even had to do some odd jobs around the house and for some of the neighbours. “The train is leaving in half an hour. You can go home and wait for me there, or just wait for me to come back here. But either way…I’m going.” He licked his lips nervously. He’d never stood up to Petunia this determinedly before and he was terrified of the possible consequences (Petunia could be quite vengeful, even for the pettiest things) but he didn’t want to mull over it now. Thankfully she seemed too distracted by the current circumstances to even ponder on future punishments.

“Are you even allowed to go?! As a child?? With a dog?? The police are going to be notified!”

It was a valid concern, but one that Severus had already covered. “I’m thirteen, it’s allowed, I checked,” he said, by means of explanation. He pulled Mercutio closer to him, who happily nuzzled his face into his hip. “Mercutio too. We’re not going to make trouble so there won’t be any reason for the police to come.”

This time, Petunia really did look as though she was about to murder him, and Severus was glad they were surrounded by people on all sides. She threw him a pointed glare before shifting her attentions to the clock on the wall, then the signboard, then her (well, their mother’s) shoes in movements so rapid Severus was wondering how it didn’t hurt her neck. It was a long minute before she started muttering a string of curse words that he was sure would have earned her a mouthful of soap if Mum had heard her.

“Bloody hell, I’m not even wearing socks.” Petunia whined as she tugged at the ends of her hair. “And…what am I wearing…fuck fuck fuck. I look properly mad.”

“Just stay here then…do a bit of shopping,” Severus offered, hoping his sister would take the bait. Petunia was as vain as the day was long, and he was sure the prospect of her getting a new wardrobe in case she met any of her many exes on the street was more enticing than tagging along with him to their old hometown while wearing mismatched clothing. “I’ll keep mum about the bills to Mum and Dad. And there’s…ah…a makeup store down the street, I think. I won’t be gone long—"

He made to already turn and walk away but was held fast by a tight grip on his collar. He yelped and when he looked up and there was only familiar determination in Petunia’s eyes, one he would normally associate with tyrannical despots or Andromeda Tonks whenever she requested audience with Headmaster Dumbledore for his ever-changing homeschooling curriculum.

“Right, you little miscreant. Listen here and listen well.” Petunia held him in place with an iron grip to his shoulder, bending a little so she could hiss straight at his face. All previous traces of amicability had been wiped away from her features. “Since you obviously won’t be dissuaded from your insane plan, I have no other choice but to fall in line with it. But let it not be said that I agreed with this! No, not at all! Because the second, and I swear, the second anything goes wrong, Severus Evans, I am taking you back home, kicking, crying and/or screaming, and Mum and Dad are going to hear all of it, you understand?”

“Hang on, you mean you’re coming?” It was Severus’ turn to sputter in shock. He had not, in the thousands of possibilities considered in his plan, anticipated either of his sisters coming with him. Lily had of course been removed from the equation at the onset, but Petunia, of all people?! No amount of Divination could have predicted this sorry lot. Forget the exploding train, there was going to be blood on their seats before they could even leave Kings Cross.

“But…your exam!” He finished lamely, his brain unable to think of any other valid excuse that could keep his sister in London.

“Sod the exam. I’m not going to fail that class. But Mum and Dad will have my head if I let you go off alone and something happens to you.” Petunia had a dangerous gleam in her eye. “You will owe me for a thousand years for this, whether or not we get out of this unscathed. Now come on. Let’s get this over and done with. I need to buy a ticket.”

Dumbfounded, Severus followed his sister as she stalked towards the ticketing booth, wild hair, dirty wellies, and all.

Merlin’s pants, what had he gotten himself into? 

--

The train that would be taking them back to the Midlands (back home, a voice in his head said experimentally, but his stomach clenched painfully at the words) was nothing like the Hogwarts train. The Midland Mainline train was long and boxy, painted a dull green all throughout and covered liberally in a speckled coating of soot. Severus caught Petunia’s sneer when she first laid eyes on it, and she had automatically held out a hand as though to keep him back. Severus rolled his eyes before grasping her wrist and pulling her forward, ignoring the squeak that left his sister’s mouth as soon as they crossed from the platform to enter the compartment. He led them both to their seats, Mercutio at a leisurely pace beside them. It wasn’t a peak hour, thank Merlin, so locating their spot was simple enough, and he and Petunia both settled in rather quickly.

“How long was it again?” Petunia had chosen the seat adjacent from his, so he had full view of her sour expression.

“Two hours.”

A groan then a loud thump as she leaned hard against the window. “Bloody hell.”

“Shouldn’t you remember?” Severus barely remembered his life in Cokeworth but had counted that more as a boon than anything. He realized that although he had asked his parents more than once about their previous lives there, he had never thought to ask his sister. Trying to remember himself was a bit like wading through scenes being played on moth-eaten video tapes. “You were old enough when we moved, weren’t you?”

Petunia threw him a withering look. “We had a car, Severus, if you don’t remember being squished to within an inch of our lives at the back. We never took the—what the hell are you doing?”

Severus looked up from the small mountain of items that he had dumped from his rucksack onto the foldaway vinyl table that sat between them.

“Precautions,” he said, waving his sunglasses at her before putting them on. Even from behind the dark lenses, he saw as Petunia considerably paled at his response.

“You said you had taken your…your medicine.” Petunia’s wariness about magic extended to even their terms, and referring to his medication as potions was not something she could do even on a good day. At the moment, she looked as though she completely regretted being in an enclosed space with him; she looked fit to bolt. “Do you feel a fit coming on now? And don’t even think about lying!”

“Oh, will you relax,” Severus chided her as he untangled his headphones before putting them on his head. “I told you; I took my medicine already. This is just to…not tempt fate so to speak.” Pet Shop Boys on low was somehow effective at keeping fits at bay, and he had bought several CD sleeves with him in case.

“Severus…see here.” Petunia rapped at the tabletop, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. “Swear to me.”

“What?”

“Swear to me that the second you start to feel something off, you’re telling me and we’re getting off this train. I don’t know how exactly, but we’re getting off.”

Severus rolled his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Toons, we’ve barely made it out of London…”

“I don’t care. Swear it, Severus!”

“Fine, yes, I promise to tell you,” Severus grumbled.

“Also I’m calling the shots. When I tell you we’re going, we’re going. There will be no ifs and buts, I am responsible for you during this trip and so help me, if you fight me, you are going to sorely regret it.”

Her directives made him clench his teeth, but there really was little he could do. Petunia’s presence already granted her default authority, and though Severus was loathe to do so, he knew agreeing to the path of least resistance was the most efficient way of getting through the trip with his sanity intact at the end. He could plot his revenge later.

“Fine,” he fought the urge to stick out his tongue, “but I don’t have to like it.”

“Good.” Petunia sat back in her seat, looking just a smidge bit relieved. “All we have to do is ride this out and hope your brain is calm enough the entire time.”

“I’ve told you though, the potions—” Severus stopped when Petunia hissed loudly, and begrudgingly corrected himself, “I mean, the medicine…it’s working this time around, believe it or not.”

“Working in what sense?” Petunia’s lips pursed. “It never does, or else Mum and Dad would have been crying in relief.”

“This batch works well enough. No fits so far while I’ve been on it, and it’s already been a fortnight.”

Petunia frowned skeptically. “But…? There’s always a ‘but’.”

Severus sighed. They had been battling his condition collectively for so long that none of them ever accepted any easy answers; doubt and anxiety always shadowed any sort of hope.

“There are some side effects. I didn’t really lie about being ill. The medicine makes me ill, but it’s just…fevers and headaches. Usually late in the afternoon then it lasts until early morning the next day.”

Petunia groaned. “You sod. And this is part of your plan too, I suppose? You’d taken into account that you’d be gallivanting off in the morning to the Midlands and coming back into London later in the day with a raging fever, is that it?”

“It’s hardly raging; it’s more annoying than anything.”He had debated not telling Petunia about the symptoms but had already learned from experience that it wasn’t wise. Besides, she already had the medi-bracelet from St. Mungo’s; she would know at any rate. “And a fever is child’s play. I’d take that over having a fit any day.”

“It’s hardly healthy to be getting those every day, Severus.”

Severus shrugged as he sucked on a Fruit Polo. The train was wobbling a bit even at the speed it was going, and it was already giving him a bit of a headache. “Well, if you’ve noticed, I’m not exactly the poster boy of health anyway.” He would have scrapped the entire plan if the new potions mix had had a worse effect, but since it hadn’t, the point was moot. He just had to do his utmost best to not be triggered into a fit which was, quite honestly, easier said than done, but Dad always quoted about boats being in harbors and their not being made for that, so Severus figured this was something along those lines. “I can take it. I know my limits.”

“Oh, please.” Petunia scoffed, but said nothing more on the matter. She glared stormily out the window as the train sped past Greater London, as if the view was a personal affront. “This is insanity,” he heard her mutter to herself.

Her eyes flitted across the aisle to the other seats of the train, and Severus knew she was imagining the worst-case scenario and figuring out an exit strategy (or several). Petunia had always been a bundle of nerves and paranoia, and it had only seemed to grow worse as they got older. He watched as her fingers knotted and unknotted themselves on the table before they were clasped against the sides of her head.

“Ugh, I can’t believe we’re doing this. Mum and Dad are going to kill me.” She groaned into the tabletop, and Severus wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I am going to kill you.”

Severus scoffed. “I’m sure if you wait long enough, the epilepsy will do it for you. That way, you don’t have to get your hands dirty—what?” He was startled as Petunia gasped, lifting her head so suddenly that it nearly sent her toppling backwards into her seat. “What?”

“That isn’t funny! Severus, you mustn’t say things like that!” She had paled so much her freckles stood out in contrast. “Take that back!”

“Oh, so you can threaten me but I can’t say the truth? It is funny. Dad calls it gallows humour.” He left out the bit where Dad didn’t like him making jokes about his illness either, but he didn’t often tell Severus off for it. “You just said it yourself: it’s hardly healthy to be ill this much. And at some point you’re going to have to accept—”

“Oh, just shut it,” Petunia snapped, and this time, there was real heat in her words. “Shut up right now. We’re not discussing this, not now, not ever.”

“What? You were the one who started—”

“Shut it, Severus!”

Severus bristled at being scolded and dismissed. It had been a while since he’d been alone with Petunia in such close quarters, and he’d forgotten how maddening it could be. While both his sisters had the habit of yo-yoing through emotional extremes, Petunia’s mood swings carried with her the weight of her authority as oldest and made it near impossible to defy her lest she follow through on any hidden or implied threats. Plus she could be downright nasty without trying.

“I didn’t ask you to come along,” Severus said. He felt so cross with his sister at that moment that felt compelled to goad her into an argument, consequences be damned. “You decided that all on your own, so don’t take it out on me. I didn’t want you here.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Petunia glared at him. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured my free day would be.”

“You can leave anytime, you know. The next station is in twenty minutes.”

“And that’s how we solve this, you reckon? I don’t have a choice, Severus!”

“Yes, you do because I don’t want you here! Look, I’ll pay you to go back.”

“Are you being serious right now? You realise I can put a stop to this merry jaunt of ours in a snap if you push me to it?”

“Do it then,” Severus was tired of her holding her authority over him. This trip shouldn’t have been that difficult but with Petunia there it was starting to feel like pulling teeth. “Do it already. You keep threatening to so just do it. I don’t care. I don’t.”

Somehow, he was close to tears although he couldn’t understand why. His head felt hot and heavy and his eyes stung. Petunia looked at him incredulously.

“The only reason I’m here,” she said slowly, “is I know…I can see how much this means to you. I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. But even without your condition, you’re still only thirteen. I don’t care how grown-up or invincible you think you are. You aren’t going across the country alone with only your service dog for company.”

Severus’ face burned. “You think I’m too weak.”

“I think you’re a child.” Petunia said exasperatedly. “A rather reckless and stupid one, I might add.”

“You realize you being here with me makes you rather reckless and stupid too? You’re in as much danger being here with me than if you’d just stayed behind.”

“Yes, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take! That’s my business, not yours. Besides, there’s no way I could have made any other decision.”

“Why? You clearly have more important things to do and I’m always bothering you and everyone else. I would’ve thought you’d have liked a day off to yourself without being shackled into taking care of someone else—”

“You’re not ‘someone else’, you’re my brother, you idiot, and I’m not leaving you alone!”

The statement halted their argument in its tracks. Severus had already been close to being properly angry but found that he couldn’t think of a rebuttal to Petunia’s claim. He shut his mouth with a snap of his teeth and glared at his sister instead. Their small corner was quickly plunged into a filled silence and for a moment, they stared at each other, unyielding, but then Petunia’s gaze softened, and she sighed.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you an idiot. But you are a child, literally, and that’s not something you can use as a defensive argument. You are also being an utter pain in the arse right now but that’s also because you’re my little brother and that’s part of your job description. Now, look…I really don’t want to argue on a train of all places. Let’s just agree that this entire situation is mad and be done with it. We’ve already paid for the bloody tickets so we should at least see it through.”

Severus glowered, not wanting her to get the last word in. “You’re being a right tit too and I hadn’t even wanted you here.”

Petunia nodded sagely. “Touche.”

She held out her hand for a Fruit Polo and Severus grudgingly gave her one. It was as good a peace offering as any. They sat and sucked on their sweets in silence for a long while, listening to the clacking and rumbling of the train on the tracks and each other’s slowing breathing. It was just calm enough to lull him into a stupor, which felt rather nice, given that his headache had persisted throughout their fight and had steadily grown to a dull throb.

“Why are you doing this anyway?” Petunia’s voice floated over to him in the haze. “Why go back to Cokeworth at all? Didn’t we already do well leaving all that behind?”

Severus opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them. He frowned at being caught off-guard. “I’m not playing Twenty Questions.”

“It’s a simple enough question seeing as we’ve already had a hundred arguments and I’ve already lost at least a hundred quid to this madness.” Petunia’s words were harsh, but her tone was mild. She wasn’t picking a fight; she was genuinely curious. “We’ve not even been back in Cokeworth since we left and now, all of a sudden, you skip your beloved lessons and lie to our parents in a fit of inspiration? The least you can do is tell me why.”

Severus bit his lip, unsure of his desire to share any more than he had to. His chest felt tight around the memory of the day he saw Tobias, larger than life but washed out and faded, standing on the street where they lived. It was his closest-guarded secret and one he hadn’t even breathed a mention of to anyone, not even to Lily. The conversation he’d had with him hadn’t even lasted five minutes, but Severus recounted it almost obsessively, picking through his father’s words and expressions, the small movements of his hands and the slump of his shoulders. He’d known then that he had to go back to Cokeworth, but the exact reasons were lost even to him.

“Ghosts,” he said simply, and Petunia frowned.

“Ghosts,” she repeated. She studied his face, worry pinching her features. “Severus…” and now her voice was gentle, “…did something happen?”

“No.” Severus said, the lie rolling easily from his tongue.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Severus breathed. “I just need to see it again, I think.”

Petunia’s face took on a strange expression. “Listen, I know we hardly talk about it but you have to know that it may not be what you expect or remember. I just want you to realise that. You were very young…and things…things were very very different.”

“I know,” Severus had already considered the possibility that what his glitchy memories could recall was far from reality, and the few photos they had at home didn’t really do it justice, “but it’s still worth seeing for myself.”

Petunia looked unconvinced, in fact she looked ready to put a stop to the trip once and for all, but she didn’t. She crossed her arms again unhappily but leaned further back in her seat as though in resignation.

“We’ll stay an hour and a half at the most. And we’re getting lunch first. You’ve gone all pale so I don’t care what you say, you’re drinking your second set of medicines where I can see you. Any arguments and I’m taking all of us back. I don’t care if we would have to get a cab all the way back to London. Clear?”

Severus gave her a grateful nod, glad to obey her orders for once. Bossy as she was, having Petunia there meant that he wasn’t required to think of the menial things, which was nice. He also realised that as badly as he had wanted to go back to Cokeworth, he also didn’t want to dwell too much on the matter. The memory of town itself felt like an old wound that still ached when touched or jostled, and he didn’t really want to figure out why that was until he had to, until he was there. If he had been alone, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself from picking at it his thoughts until they rattled about his head, unanswered. It would have eventually driven him mad. Arguing with Petunia and generally having her there had quieted them down somewhat, and for that he was relieved.

“Right, I’m just going to ignore you for the next hour then. I’m knackered and I don’t want another fight. Count sheep in the meadow and don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency.”

Not that he would have ever told her though.

“Crystal,” Severus said, before rolling over in his seat and shutting his eyes, soothed by the rhythmic clacking that surrounded them and warm in the knowledge that he wasn’t alone.

tbc

the story about tobias' unexpected visit to severus is here.

[ratherembarrassing]

2024: weeks 39 and 40 (wtf?!)

time is a fucking hamster wheel and i'm literally too lazy to edit this into the way i usually do, so. enjoy!

england!:

the cold that hit me on the bus home after chappell roan persisted through every event recorded in this post. just a little context for fun.

monday morning, awoke to a giant fucking billboard ad for hinge literally outside my hotel window having gone up overnight, which felt unnecessarily pointed and i decided i had to leave london immediately.

but i didn't, because i needed food. can we talk about eggslut's hashbrowns again? cause they are fucking incredible.

was immediately punished for not leaving london, as i turned a corner in shoreditch and walked straight into a film set, which did in fact give me a mild panic attack because reasons. it was citadel, so it was fine.

then i got the hell out of london. i got in a car and i drove! off into the countryside! apparently there was flooding across southern england, but as i drove literally all the way across southern england in both directions, i saw little more than puddles, so i'm not convinced. also, trees. so many trees!

thus begins what i think i will simply refer to in the future as "that time i drove all over southern england just because."

i did absolutely zero research or planning for anything beyond typing "seven sisters" into google maps to check how far it was, but i did not die so it's fine, and then i did in fact see the seven sisters. i did get asked if i was there to kill myself, which i was not, but i can see how i might have given off that vibe.

salisbury can go fuck itself, but it's probably not the town of salisbury's fault so much as the weather, the cunt at the front desk of the hotel i was staying at, and the horrible potato thing i ate there. they do have a very cool cathedral.

stonehenge can stay.

bath is in fact prettier than advertised. the hotel i booked while in some jetlag-fueled delirium was in fact a bath. at this point i did feel like wandering the english countryside was revealing something to me, which might have just been the general lack of sleep talking.

after a very early morning trip to the actual roman baths and stomping around in the rain, i had had enough of doing things, and that is how i ended up eating kfc at 4pm in my hotel bed and then sleeping for like 12 hours.

three days in the country was all i thought i could tolerate, so i went back to london for a hot minute to look at some art at the national gallery. once again i was denied seeing the turners i should have been able to see.

insert here the story of me frantically trying to find a way to charge my phone with only 1% battery and my train ticket trapped inside it and all of st pancras having exactly zero ways for me to do so.

train - the bad version.

@notabuddhist treated me to the sights of her lovely town! again, i feel like Seeing England has revealed something to me, if not about myself then at least about the goals of the white people in australia that were previously unknown to me. don't know what to do with this knowledge yet.

train - the good version.

and then: emma time. listen, i don't think that play was any great work of art. it might actually have been corny as hell. but that's not the point. the point is i didn't die, and i went back again the next night and didn't die again. growth!

i wasn't planning to go to the tate, but sometimes you just have to go to the tate.

refusing to concede my final day in england, brunch in soho, wandered over to the royal academy for some more art, took my life in my hands again biking from buckingham palace back to my hotel.

i did not manage to find a lick of football to watch, so i went to the airport and went home.

the nightmare that followed:

monday did not exist for me

tuesday i arrived home at like 5am, slept all day, slept all night.

wednesday???

thursday i went back to work.

friday, i have no fucking clue.

weekend??????????????????? will my sleep schedule ever return to normal, we just don't know. i'd like to be a cool international traveler who just bounces from place to place, but the timezones between here and there specifically have destroyed me every time on returning to australia.

the end.

[thefisherqueen]

Halloa! Halloa! What's this?” He was carefully examining the foolscap, upon which the words were pasted, holding it only an inch or two from his eyes. “Well?” “Nothing,” said he, throwing it down. “It is a blank half-sheet of paper, without even a water-mark upon it. I think we have drawn as much as we can from this curious letter; and now, Sir Henry, has anything else of interest happened to you since you have been in London?”

Holmes has found out something, and he's doesn't want anyone to know that

I'm suspecting dr. Mortimer more and more of sending the letter. Holmes' deductions about the sender would fit him, and it makes sense it would be made in haste if it was him. I searched for the location of the Northumberland hotel, to see if it was near Charing Cross and so could have been sent from there, and the hotel that's called that today isn't (it's near st Pancras and King Cross), but I found this on the wikipedia page about the Sherlock Holmes pub (which you should totally visit when you're in London. I was there last winter, very cosy place and I liked the upstairs recreation of the Baker Street sitting room even better than the museum one):

The Sherlock Holmes was originally a small hotel, known briefly in the 1880s as the Northumberland Hotel, and later as the Northumberland Arms, under the latter name appearing in the 1892 Sherlock Holmes story "The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor". The Victorian Turkish baths that Holmes and Watson used to frequent in the stories was located right beside the hotel at 25 Northumberland Avenue. The entrance to the adjacent women's Turkish baths can still be seen in Craven Passage at the rear of the men's baths. It has been conjectured by some Holmes enthusiasts and scholars that the present building was the Northumberland Hotel which featured in the 1901 novel The Hound of the Baskervilles.

And that one is near Charing Cross station!

[princesscatherinemiddleton]

The Princess of Wales’ Year in Review: May

May 3rd - William, Catherine and their children joined the King, Queen and others at Westminster Abbey for a rehearsal of the Coronation May 4th - The Prince and Princess of Wales arrived at Acton Main Line Station and travelled on the Elizabeth Line to Tottenham Court Road Station. They then visited the Dog and Duck pub and undertook a walkabout, where Catherine met @harry-sussex May 5th - The Prince and Princess of Wales joined the King, and other members of the Royal Family, at a luncheon at Buckingham Palace for Realm Governor-Generals and Prime Ministers. The King and the Prince and Princess of Wales then performed a walkabout on The Mall. Finally, the King held a reception at Buckingham Palace for visiting Heads of State and Overseas Guests at which the Prince and Princess of Wales, and others, were present May 6th - The Coronation of King Charles III and Queen Camilla took place at Westminster Abbey May 7th - The Prince and Princess of Wales this afternoon attended the Coronation Big Lunch on the Long Walk. That evening, the Prince and Princess of Wales, Prince George and Princess Charlotte, joined the King and Queen and other members of the royal family at the BBC Concert at Windsor Castle to celebrate the Coronation of The King and Queen. Afterwards, the Prince and Princess of Wales held a reception for the concert performers at Windsor Castle May 8th - The Prince and Princess of Wales, Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis took part in the Big Help Out at 3rd Upton Scouts Hall. Catherine is the joint President of the Scout Association. Official photos from the coronation were released by Buckingham Palace May 9th - The Prince of Wales, on behalf of The King, and The Princess of Wales hosted a garden party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Coronation of The King and Queen May 11th - The Princess of Wales, Joint Patron of the Royal Foundation, received Professor Eamon McCrory (Board Member, the Royal Foundation Centre for Early Childhood Advisory Group) at Windsor Castle. Later, she held a meeting with Mrs. Alice Webb (Trustee of the Royal Foundation) May 13th - The Princess of Wales made a surprise appearance playing the piano at the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest May 16th - The Princess of Wales, Joint Patron of the Royal Foundation, visited the Kelly Holmes Trust to mark Mental Health Awareness Week and participated in the Trust's Social and Emotional Mental Health Programme at Percy Community Centre May 17th - Catherine made a private visit to Family Action (one of her patronages) to learn about the impact the cost of living crisis is having on families May 18th - The Princess of Wales, Patron of the Anna Freud Centre for Children and Families, visited the Anna Freud National Centre for Children and Families to mark Mental Health Awareness Week May 20th - Kensington Palace released a photograph of the Princess of Wales beekeeping to celebrate National Beekeeping Day May 22nd - The Princess of Wales attended a Children's Picnic at the Chelsea Flower Show May 25th - The Princess of Wales, Patron, visited the Foundling Museum. Afterwards, she attended a workshop with Kinship at St. Pancras Community Centre May 31st - William and Catherine were seen arriving in Jordan

[probablyasocialecologist]

A French publisher who was arrested in London on terrorism charges has been awarded “substantial” damages by the Metropolitan police, as new figures reveal thousands of foreign nationals have been stopped at UK ports under anti-terror laws. Ernest Moret, 29, a foreign rights manager for Éditions la Fabrique, was detained at St Pancras station in April last year on his way to the London book fair. He was held under section 7 of the Terrorism Act 2000, and questioned by counter-terrorist officers about whether he had taken part in anti-government demonstrations in France and if he backed the French president, Emmanuel Macron. Moret’s mobile phone and laptop were also confiscated for several weeks, before being returned to him after police decided to take no further action. The police also admitted downloading Moret’s sim card before returning his phone.

[...]

The figures have deepened concerns that police are using counter-terrorism powers to target political activists. Kevin Blowe, campaigns coordinator at the police monitoring group Netpol, said the figures were “genuinely alarming”. He said: “We know these powers are used for purposes other than investigating terrorism, including the targeting of political activists visiting Britain. “The data does suggest that EU states are seeking the active help of British police to target their own citizens too, although state surveillance is so lacking in transparency and accountability that this is almost impossible to confirm. “Schedule 7 is discriminatory and draconian, it undermines civil rights and criminalises communities and political dissent. Like so many other counter-terrorism powers put in place a decade ago by the last Labour government, it is something that we would all be better off without.”

[sleepanonymous]

Hi!! I'm kind of new here and I was wondering if you could help me with a question I've been trying to find the answer to! When did IV 1 leave? Was it after This Place Will Become Your Tomb? Thank you and I hope you have a good week!

Hello Anon 🖤 Welcome to the fandom. I’m glad you’re here. As for your question, I took it too seriously 😅 I also feel guilty for lazily lumping the previous two IVs together in the OG IV tag I use, which may be adding to the confusion I’ve seen cropping up here on Tumblr about Sleep Token’s Touring members.

TLDR Answer: The first IV stopped touring with Sleep Token in late 2018, several months before Sundowning was released.

Much longer and convoluted answer: The source I originally had gave an obligatory 2020 date for the first IV and the Keyboardist leaving Sleep Token as touring musicians. I always took that year at face value, but I’m glad I did a deep dive into this for you because I’ve found something interesting (or maybe I’m just weird, idk). The last show I know for certain that the first IV played with Sleep Token was at St Pancras Old Church in October 2018 (YouTube link). I could have sworn Sleep Token played more shows in 2018 after October, but I’m not finding much online to support that. The first show I can find that Sleep Token played following the one in 2018 was when they opened for Baby Metal in July 2019 (YouTube link). This show has the guitarist who replaced the first IV (whom I’ve confusingly dubbed OG IV) Interestingly, he also plays the keys instead of Vessel, which I’ve never seen before. This is also the first performance with the Vesselettes as far as I can tell. I did some more digging, even though this technically wasn’t your question, but the first show I found that has our current IV was, surprisingly, the Download 2021 show I just posted about (Tumblr link) where the poor guy was so shy and standing off to the side and didn’t move.

Since I'm on a rant, I also want to mention that I had someone tell me recently that III was also replaced as a touring member at some point? As far back as I could go with live videos (there's nothing readily accessible before 2018) he looks like the same guy? It's the same Warwick bass guitar at least. If anyone has some more concrete information on that, I'd very much appreciate it 🖤

[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 33

Words: 2.6k

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

As soon as the train pulled away from the platform at St Pancras I placed the call to Alex, instructing her to alert the agency about the attack in my hotel room. I knew that the story that I’d fled in fear of a further attack seemed unlikely, I was never one to run from danger, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that the agency wouldn't know my next move. They wouldn't see me coming.

I hung up, staring at my phone for a moment. Pretty soon word would get around that I’d taken off and then the calls would start up. I had a story formulated in my mind. I’d panicked and sought refuge at my aunt's house on the South East Coast.

It wouldn't be long before the arrival of dawn, the deep violet night sky already stained on the horizon with a hint of pink from the still hidden sun. My eyes stung and my head felt foggy from lack of sleep. My thoughts strayed to Van and my heart felt heavy with the weight of my broken promises. All that he wanted was to keep me safe, and yet here I was once again, blatantly walking into the face of danger against his will. Unease shot through me at the thought of his reaction when he found out and I felt the tension seep into my already taut muscles.

My body still ached with the memory of him but it was a good ache, my limbs tight, the bruises that littered my skin, the throb between my legs. He'd temporarily satisfied something in me that I’d been yearning for, but still it wasn't enough. The more I tasted the forbidden fruit, the more I craved it. Our fleeting encounters, no matter how passionate, just weren't enough. And they never would be.

My mind tried to conceptualise a life in some distant parallel universe where Van and I might have actually stood a chance at some kind of happiness together, but the notion was so inconceivable it just added to my pain. I tried to push the thoughts away and focused on my next move instead. I screwed my eyes shut tight, letting my phone fall into my lap and I tipped my head back on the seat rest, letting the steady rocking of the train lull me.

The comfort that the thick blanket of sleep promised was just starting to envelope me when my phone erupted into life, ringing shrilly in my lap. I jolted sharply in my seat, sending my phone crashing to the floor of the carriage where it skittered under the seat in front.

"Shit!" I cursed out loud, ignoring the disapproving tutting noise from a gnarled-looking elderly man sitting in the adjacent seat across the aisle.

I bent down to grab my phone just before it rang off, but then as soon as it fell silent it started ringing again. Paul's name lit up the display and my heart started pounding.

You can't trust anyone...

"Fucks sake," I muttered, scowling at my disgruntled fellow passenger who was shaking his head, swiftly ending the call.

Immediately my phone started ringing again and I flicked the switch on the side, silencing it. It just vibrated in my hands instead, Paul's name glaring out at me once again. I tossed my phone on to the seat next to me, my vision blurring now as the tears started to gather. How the hell was I going to confront him face to face if I couldn't even speak to him on the phone?

A sob burst from me and I buried my face in my hands, feeling hot tears trickle into my palms, willing my phone to stop its incessant vibrating, picturing Paul pacing on the other end, going out of his mind... either with worry for my safety or frustration that I’d evaded meeting my violent end once again. I just didn't know which.

I started to think that maybe I should answer. Maybe I would be able to hear something in his voice, a tone of guilt, shame in his inflection. If there was a chance that I might learn something it might be invaluable rather than walking into this situation completely blind. I took a deep breath and answered the call, lifting the phone to my ear with shaky hands.

"H... hello? Paul?" The uncertainty in my voice was clear, I couldn't hide it.

His reply was immediate, a rush of words flooding through the speaker like a torrent. "Lyla! You're okay... thank god! Where are you? They're saying you've bolted. Are you safe? Tell me where..."

"I'm okay," I cut him off, trying to steady my breathing which to my dismay I realised was nervous sounding. "I... I've gone to my aunt's. I panicked. I thought they'd send someone else to kill me. I thought I'd be safe here."

There was a short pause before Paul replied and when he did he sounded panicked, his voice high-pitched and strained. "Whilst you're out there on your own, you're not safe! Come back to the agency. Right now! Where are you? Tell me and I'll send a car. I'll come and get you myself if I have to!"

"NO!" I practically shouted, eyes flicking over to the old man who rose up out of his seat and shook his head, turning and making his way down the carriage away from the commotion. "I'm safe. I'm fine. I just need some time to take stock of what's happened. I'll be back... in a few days."

"We don't have a few days!" Paul snapped, sharp and urgent now. "McCann's been sighted in London. He's after you, I'm sure of it. Christ, when I heard you'd been attacked I thought the worst... He might have followed you. Now tell me where you are!"

My mind churned with indecision. I wanted to trust Paul, I wanted to with every fibre of my being, but Van's words rang strong in my mind. I felt years of trust and comfort found in the company of this man who I’d grown to admire and believe in dispersing like dust on the wind.

"Paul...I... I can't... I need to go..." I stuttered, but before I could finish I heard the tone of another call trying to connect. I pulled the phone away from my ear to see Charles Whitman's name now displayed. The whole agency would have word of what had happened by now, the majority eager to check on my welfare, but I couldn't let my guard down. Not everyone would have my best interests at heart and I’d be foolish not to treat every single person with suspicion.

I ignored Charles' call, placing the phone to my ear again, catching Paul mid-sentence as he blabbered desperately "... on your own Lyla! Listen to me! This is very important... there's someone..."

I tore the phone away before he could finish his sentence, jabbing 'end call' on the screen, taking a deep breath that wracked me as I realised I was trembling all over.

Pull yourself together Lyla! You can't go to pieces now!

It was more important than ever that I found my inner strength, but it seemed to be ebbing away fast, leaving a weak and frightened version of myself that I barely recognised. I felt like I was in an avalanche, being swept along by forces that I couldn't control, flailing wildly to grab hold of something... anything... that would ground me, but there was nothing there.

Van... what I really needed was Van.

I turned my head to look out the window into the approaching daybreak, realising that the 'plan' that I had concocted up was flimsier than my grip on this whole situation. I wasn’t just dealing with one bent agent here. This was a wide-reaching criminal network with tendrils snaked into positions of power and governance all over the country. The thought that I could somehow take them on single-handedly was misguided and dangerously foolish, even with Van at my side. It was suicide, plain and simple. But the thought of avenging my dad still overshadowed my fears.

I dug into my pocket and brought out the matchbook that Van had given me with the name of the hotel, pictured him arriving there and discovering my absence. My mouth went dry as I imagined his enraged state when he realised he no longer had control of the situation.

When my phone vibrated on the passenger seat yet again I reached over for it, resolving to switch it off, at least for the remainder of my journey, but when I caught sight of the display I froze. There was no contact name, just a number, but I recognised it straight away. Despite only seeing it for a fleeting moment, I had committed it to memory. It was Van.

My heart seemed to thump in time with the insistent vibrations and I floundered, considering letting it ring out, but I just couldn't do it. If I did, Van wouldn't have any idea where I was or what had happened to me. He might be picturing me now, lying broken and lifeless in some dark, dingy alleyway. I couldn't do that to him.

"Van..."

I uttered his name and immediately heard a sharp intake of breath down the line, felt my whole body tense in apprehension.

"Lyla!" The desperate edge made me wince, and although the thought of him knowing my plans filled me with dread, I felt a comfort in hearing his voice. "Where the fuck are you? What happened? Are you hurt?"

I was expecting rage and the fact that I got such evident concern threw me, but I knew it would be short-lived.

"No, no... I'm ok... I'm fine..."

"Thank god. But why aren't you here? I'm at the Crowne Hotel like we discussed. What happened? You were supposed to come straight here.”

I paused, my mind scrolling through lines and rejecting each one, trying to find a way to tell him what he feared the most. He didn't wait.

"Lyla? Talk to me. Where are you?" Unease tinged his words now, but he still wasn't angry, and this just made things worse. It meant he had trusted me and the promise that I had made him. And there was no way to sugar-coat it really. What I was doing was treacherous and reckless, even by my standards.

When I spoke I could hear a slight tremor, giving me away. "Van... please don't be mad... I really need to do this..."

"What the fuck have you done? Tell me where you are!"

This time the sharpness in his voice made me flinch. There was a loud thudding noise like maybe he'd lashed out at something followed by a grunt of frustration, then the throaty growl of a car engine gunning into life.

"Please don't tell me you're heading back to the agency after everything I told you!" He cried. "Stop right now! Turn back! I fucking mean it!"

My chest felt tight, my hands gripping the phone so tightly they ached. "I can't turn back. I'm on a direct train. I need to do this. Whoever betrayed my father... I need to look them in the eye. I need to know."

More curses down the line, some muttered under his breath and one shouted out aggressively as I heard the screech of tyres on tarmac, the blare of a car horn. I pictured the scene. Van going out of his mind with worry, the realisation that he was at best a four hour drive away from Liverpool and even if he drove as fast as he could, pedal to the metal all the way, he would never reach me in time. It was outside of his control and there was nothing he could do.

"You’ve got to understand... listen to me..."

"Fucking hell Lyla, no... NO! You listen to me! This isn't a fucking game of whodunnit. You can't just walk back in there and start asking questions. These people will stop at nothing to protect themselves! NOTHING! You'll be dead within five minutes. You cannot go back there! Do you understand?"

I felt like my windpipe had closed up now, fear and dread and the beginnings of hysteria starting to creep into my system. I pulled the phone away from my ear and tried to concentrate on my breathing with my eyes screwed shut. I could hear Van's muffled shouts from the speaker but his words were indistinguishable.

This was all wrong. I couldn't stop now. Van would never let me anywhere near the agency if I didn't follow through with my plan. And then what? I might never find out the truth. No. This was something I needed to do... by myself. I didn't need anybody. My whole life since my dad had died I’d stood on my own two feet, not only facing adversity but staring it down with vehemence. I could do this. It was the only way. My mind was made up.

I brought the phone up to my ear to hear Van still in full-flow rant, anger and fear saturating his words. And it was the fear that almost made me falter, give in, listen to him. But I didn't.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" I blurted, not waiting for a response, pulling the phone away and ending the call just as I heard my name shouted in a final desperate plea.

I pushed my phone into my bag this time, burying it under layers of clothing to block out the vibrations that started up with a call immediately. I screwed my eyes shut again, took a deep intake of breath, held it whilst I slowly counted before releasing it gradually.

My mind wandered, flicking to possible outcomes before it retracted in on itself, seeking refuge in the past, a perceived safety net of mine whenever I felt like I was losing my grip. I was eight years old again on the therapist’s couch, learning the steps to counter the panic attacks that had plagued me since I watched my dad's life ebb away in front in my eyes.

Another deep breath in through my nose. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... Out through my mouth. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... Repeat and repeat again....

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed like that for, but eventually my heart didn't feel like it was going to leap clear out of my chest anymore and my head stopped spinning enough to try and formulate a plan.

Van was right. I couldn't just walk back into the agency all guns blazing, slinging out accusations. I had to be tactical. Much as the thought terrified me, I realised that I had to make a judgment call and put my trust in someone else. I couldn't do this completely alone.

I dug in my bag for the phone, ending the incoming call from Van trying to reach me yet again and scrolled through the contacts list, selecting the number that I was looking for. Then I placed the call and waited with bated breath for it to connect. When it did I spoke straight away, not waiting for a greeting. I spoke quickly with the strength and fierceness that I knew I would need to make it through the next part of my ordeal.

"I need to see you. Meet me in two hours. Under the railway bridge on Sloane Street. Come alone."