#fairwood

[griseldagimpel]

Having Martin Blackwood/Simon Fairchild/the Vast thoughts. Gonna write a ficlet as soon as I get a chance.

[yescrazycatlady10]

Tales From Fairwood Episode 10: Hide And Go Sleep! (2024)

[chelseajackarmy]

Joe Allen for Swansea City AFC

[the-opposite-and-the-mirror]

Nyah Fairwood Bane - The Opposite and The Mirror

An updated version of this set.

[formeryelpers]

Fairwood Café, 35204 Newark Blvd, Newark, CA 94560

Fairwood Café is a Hong Kong café that opened in 2015. It has the look and feel of a Chinese diner. The menu includes sandwiches, porridge, sizzling plates, spaghetti, rice plates, fried rice, chow fun/mein, macaroni/ramen/udon, and hot and cold drinks.

Hot Hong Kong style milk tea (large, $3.50): big cup of hot, strong, sweet milk tea (sweetened with condensed milk). They sweetened it for you. I prefer to add my own condensed milk.

Pork & preserved egg porridge ($10.75): a smaller size, broken down and fairly thick. It was on the bland side but decent, with big chunks of preserved egg, scallions, and seasoned pork (shredded). There was no white pepper on any of the tables. The pork tasted like it was leftover.

Fairwood Café is in a strip mall with plenty of parking. It might be cash only, though I didn’t see a sign that said cash only. The décor is interesting – colorful but the colors aren’t complementary. It seemed clean. There were some handwritten specials on whiteboards but they were in Chinese only.

3 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

[greatworldwar2]

• No. 125 Newfoundland Squadron RAF

Motto: Nunquam domandi ("Never to be tamed")

Squadron Codes: FN (Apr 1939 – Sep 1939) VA (Jun 1941 – Nov 1945)

Number 125 (Newfoundland) Squadron was a Royal Air Force squadron active during World War II and briefly in the mid-1950s. Throughout its service the squadron primarily operated night fighters. No. 125 Squadron was initially formed at Old Sarum, Wiltshire on 1 February 1918 as a light bomber squadron of the Royal Flying Corps. It was planned for the squadron to become operational and deploy to France in September however it was instead disbanded on 1 August 1918, thus never seeing active service in the First World War.

No. 125 Squadron was reformed on June 16th, 1941 at RAF Colerne equipped with Bolton-Paul Defiant night fighters. The squadron was raised as a result of a war loan raised by the Newfoundland Commission of Government in 1940. After discovering a surplus of revenue, the commission presented the British Government with $500,000 to establish a squadron with the hope that it would be manned by Newfoundlanders. This hope was realised with at least a dozen Newfoundlanders flying with No. 125 Squadron in its early days along with a contingent of English, Scottish, Welsh, Commonwealth and Polish pilots. Volunteers from Newfoundland and Labrador died at a higher rate while serving with the Royal Air Force (RAF) than with any other branch of the British Armed Forces during the war. On 24 September 1941, the squadron moved to RAF Fairwood Common, Wales and became fully operational, with the Defiant proving to be a more than effective night fighter. By February 1942, No. 125 Squadron began to convert over to the twin-engined Bristol Beaufighter, with these becoming operational by April. Defiants and Hawker Hurricanes were also used to supplement the Beaufighters in the squadron's patrols. With an increasing number of Newfoundlanders being found in No. 125 Squadron's ranks, some aircrew began to name their aircraft in recognition of their Newfoundland heritage: St, John's, Corner Brook, Deer Lake and Buchans were some of the names they used. From October to December 1942, the squadron operated a detachment at RAF Sumburgh in the Shetland Islands.

No. 125 Squadron moved north to RAF Valley in November 1943 in order to carry out patrols over the Irish Sea. While based here the squadron operated a detachment from RAF Ballyhalbert in Northern Ireland. Despite being a 'Newfoundland' squadron, by November 1943 only 5 of the 30 aircrew were from Newfoundland as well as 45 of the roughly 200 ground crew came from the Dominion. With a conversion to de Havilland Mosquito night fighters in February 1944, No. 125 Squadron moved south to RAF Hurn, Dorset at the end of March. This was in preparation to cover the Operation Overlord landings in Normandy. In April, No. 125 Squadron had their caribou squadron badge officially approved by King George VI. The squadron also participated in intercepting Operation Steinbock raids from January to May 1944. With a bridgehead secured in France and with the commencement of V-1 flying bomb attacks on London, the squadron moved to RAF Middle Wallop in July 1944 to fly night time interceptions.

On October 18th, 1944, No. 125 Squadron moved to RAF Coltishall, Norfolk. From Coltishall the squadron defended against enemy intruders and Heinkel He 111s carrying flying bombs, as well as undertaking reconnaissance to locate the remainder of German shipping. In April 1945, No. 125 Squadron transferred up to RAF Church Fenton in Yorkshire. Here it saw out the war before disbanding for the second time on 20 November 1945 when its aircraft and personnel were renumbered to No. 264 Squadron. By the end of the war No. 125 Squadron had managed to score 44 victories, 5 probables and 20 damaged. No. 125 Squadron reformed in March 1955 as a night fighter unit once more. While based at Stradishall, the squadron operated alongside fellow night fighter units No. 89 Squadron and No. 152 Squadron, as well as No. 245 Squadron. The Squadron was disbanded for the final time in May 1957.

[swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters]

If Maryse has to go then I want her to die in Jocelyn's arms and a secret love confession. I won't accept less

Rest in Peace Maryse Lightwood you will be missed 🙏🙏

[xoxoladyaz]

Steddie Bigbang #177: Infernally Yours is HERE!

Finally, after months of work I am SO HAPPY to start publishing my contribution to @steddiebang, a post-Season 3 AU in which Hopper doesn't go to Russia, the Byers family stays in Hawkins, and Steve Harrington finally agrees to play DnD with Hellfire. Chapters 1 and 2 are up today, chapters 3 and 4 will go up on the 9th, and the last two chapters (and the epilogue) will be posted on the 16th.

Here's the link to the story on Ao3 and a preview below :) I can't wait to see what you all think!

Listen. Steve Harrington knew that he had some sins to pay for, okay? He was kind of a stuck-up shit for most of high school and while he didn’t go out of his way to, like, ruin anybody’s day – cough, cough, Tommy Hagan – he also didn’t really reach out to anyone who needed help either. He’d led on a lot of girls before Nance, too, and if judging by the fact that the only girls he dated these days wanted a good time and not a long time, well, he had some work to do on the whole “relationship” and “finding everlasting love” front. But he’s done the work to be better! Granted, a lot of the work consisted of him getting beaten up and/or tortured by other people while protecting a group of unthankful little shitheads, but it’s still progress. And, not to brag, but he got Robin Buckley as a best friend out of the whole thing, so really, Steve Harrington’s not doing so bad on the whole “redemption” thing, thank you.

So why, why does the universe continue to torment him?

“ – and that’s when Lorcan Fairwood used Horde Breaker to fire into the pack of gnolls, dealing five points of damage to Kazar, the gnoll pack leader, and then Eddie said - ”

“Dingus,” Robin hissed, knocking her elbow into Steve’s and dislodging him from his thoughts. “Get Dingus Junior to knock-it-off with this dork talk before I knock him into the recent returns.”

Groaning, Steve rubbed his palms against his dry eyes and braced for impact. “We got it, Henderson, Munson’s the best thing to ever happen to Dorks and Demons - ”

“ – Dungeons and Dragons, Steve, I know that you know that’s what it’s called - ”

“ – and as much as I like hanging out with you, dude, these multi-hour play-by-plays aren’t convincing me that this nerd shit is, like, fun or whatever,” he finished with a sigh. Robin shot him an exasperated but grateful look and then slid her newest stack of freshly rewound returns his way.

“Shelving time, doinkus.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolled his eyes and reached for the stack.

Dustin snorted and kicked at the front of his desk, which, the attitude on this kid, seriously. “Guess Eddie was right.” 

Steve froze. What the hell does that mean?

“What the hell does that mean?”

Dustin snorted again before spinning to face Steve, his hands falling to his hips. “Eddie said says that jocks only care about other jocks. And jock stuff.”

“Hey, okay, first of all, there’s only one of us that’s actually saved your life multiple times and it’s not Eddie Munson, so jot that down,” Steve snapped, dropping the tapes back onto the counter (and ignoring Robin’s yelp as they tumbled everywhere). “And second, just because we don’t have the same interests doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, man. That’s a shit thing to say.”

Henderson folded inward, his eyes dropping towards the ground and voice losing its normal intensity. “Sorry, Steve.”

“And third – look, Henderson,” Steve sighed at Dustin’s drooping. (Look, he was a little shithead with the biggest ego in every room, but he was Steve’s little shithead and he hated to see him upset – even when it was his own fault.) “Maybe it isn’t like, totally boring in the moment or whatever, but getting a two-hour play by play after your game every Saturday isn’t doing a whole lot to convince me, man.”

“Well,” Dustin perked up slightly and cleared his throat, “we’re always looking for new members - ”

“Nope, no way.”

“Steve,” Henderson’s whining was out in full force now, “it would be so much fun! You wouldn’t even have to do that much work; I could help you get started and - ”

“No.”

“ – seriously, I can make you a character sheet so fast, and our party could really use another fighter anyways - ”

“No, Henderson!”

“ – besides, we haven’t gotten to hang out with you as much now that school started, and you know that Will’s having a hard time because everyone keeps calling him ‘Zombie Boy’ and he would be so excited to have you playing with us - ”

Shit, he’s pulling out the Zombie Boy card. Shit, shit, shit.

“Henderson - ”

“ – and, you know, I totally believe you and everything but Mike is pretty convinced that you’re still an asshole, especially with everything Eddie’s said, and this could be your chance to prove him wrong!” Dustin finished emphatically, his chest puffing with exertion.

Steve shot an exasperated look over the top of the Horror section towards Robin, who was pouting in mock-agreement with Dustin.

Traitor.

Sighing, Steve shoved Friday the 13th onto the shelf and dropped his gaze towards Dustin. “One game.”

Dustin let out a loud whoop, hopping in place and punching wildly at the air. “YES!”

“Just one game, Henderson, that’s it.”

“I’LL TAKE IT!” Letting out an even louder victory cry, Dustin raced for the door. “I’m going to get working on your character sheet right now – Wednesday, 3:30 in the drama room,” Dustin said, whirling around to point at Steve. “You’ll be there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“YES! Don’t worry Steve, you won’t regret this!” Dustin beamed and then he was out the door, disappearing into the October sun.

[tag-that-oc]

I wanna ramble about two of my characters for a moment because I feel like I don't get the chance to talk about them much. And I just love my kids so much.

So you have Tanya Fairwood, and Valerie Lovedoll; two girls that live in a fantastical world full of magic, and they both go to a magic school. Tanya ended up there while running from her past and when Valerie met her it was like love at first sight (for Valerie at least). But she and their friends would find out very quickly that Tanya is very self-sacrificing, that combined with a prophecy that dictates that she'll sacrifice herself to save the world? Not a recipe for anything good.

I feel like the story truly starts when Tanya actually DOES manage to do just that (and im not even there yet, sadge). Because what Tanya DOESN'T know is that in that future, her friends hated the fact that she's no longer around, so they delved into forbidden magics to find a way to bring her back -- and the only way they could find, was time travel. Valerie, now a grown up, decides to step up and go back in time to save her. FURTHER ON, it won't just be once or twice or thrice that she fails. But multiple times when she had to watch Tanya die for a prophecy that, as they would discover, wasn't even solved even with the sacrifice.

There's also a bit where Tanya would meet "herself" in the space in between those time loops and discover that she's trapped in a timeloop... And there's so much more to it than just that, I so love my convoluted plots *sobs*

oh that sounds really really cool i LOVE convoluted plots and time travel and all that. and not giving up on someone even after they've died is just SO good. i love everything about this

[griseldagimpel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Simon Fairchild, Martin Blackwood/Simon Fairchild/The Vast Characters: Martin Blackwood, Simon Fairchild, The Vast (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Smut, BDSM, Dom/sub, Mile High Club Summary:

Simon Fairchild can't get Martin Blackwood out of his mind, so he invites him to an outing aboard his plane.

Set near the end of the Season 4, sometime between "Big Picture" and "Rotten Core".

[the-opposite-and-the-mirror]

Every time I see this I think of these two Parabatai:

Nyah Fairwood Bane and Max Lightwood - The Opposite and The Mirror

Is this NOT jude and cardan

[yescrazycatlady10]

Heart To Fart! A Tales From Fairwood Short! (2024)

[kateelliottsff]

The History of the World Begins in Ice

I’m delighted to announce that, in Summer 2024, Fairwood Press will be publishing a collection of stories and essays from the Spiritwalker (Cold Magic) universe, titled

THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD BEGINS IN ICE:

Stories and Essays from the World of Cold Magic.

That’s right! A collection of fiction and non fiction from and about my Afro-Celtic post-Roman icepunk adventure set in an alt-fantasy 19th century Earth alongside a perilous spirit world, and including Phoenician spies, well-dressed men, revolutionary-minded women, and of course lawyer dinosaurs.

The collection will be published in a trade paperback edition and an ebook edition. It will contain eleven stories and eleven essays, as well as an introduction by N.K. Jemisin.

Each story will have an illustration by a different artist. The collection will include “The Secret Journal of Beatrice Hassi Barahal” with all 28 of the original Julie Dillon illustrations, previously published only in a 300 copy chapbook edition. Here’s the narrator of the trilogy, Cat Barahal, as drawn by Julie Dillon.

Nine of the eleven stories were previously published. The other two are being written specifically for this collection.

If there is enough interest, Fairwood Press will produce a limited edition deluxe hardcover edition with two extra color plates (by Julie Dillon), a fold out triptych (by Kelsey Liggett), and a chapbook insert of the infamous smut chapter, “Chapter 31.5,” from Cold Fire. I can’t promise exact figures (and recent cost of paper increases may mean my guess is way out of date) but likely in the $40-50 range for a book of about 100,000 words.

You can express interest here (comment below or reply via email) or by writing directly to Fairwood Press. If you are interested, please (if you can) write in as soon as possible since creating a deluxe edition will take additional work, monetary investment, and time (that we would be delighted to take on).

Pre-order information will come as soon as it is available.

I first started thinking in autumn 2018 about producing this collection with a Fall 2020 publication date to coincide with the 10th anniversary of the publication of Cold Magic. Events conspired against me at the time, by which I mean I didn’t have the energy or time to move forward with it.

So I am incredibly thrilled to work with Patrick Swenson and Fairwood Press to bring this long-dreamt-of project to life and share it with all of you Spiritwalker fans.

[teaandbatteries]

Willing Sacrifice - Mason x Evelynn

Her heartbeat. It was quiet, it was uneven, it was stuttering, but it was there. The sound of it was the last thread holding Mason's sanity in place.

He was standing in front of the closed door of the operating theater, deep in the heart of the medical wing of the Agency's Wayhaven facility. Forehead pressed against the harsh steel door, he closed his eyes and forced himself to take slow breaths; with each inhale, he counted the beats of the fluttering heart, muted but audible through the door.

There were other hearts beating within, of course - Elidor's steady thump, underlining the quicker, anxious beats the two nurses. But they were easy to ignore in favour of the unsteady, fluttering pulse he needed. It felt like his own heart was beating in time with hers - hanging still in terror with each pause, afraid that the previous beat would be the last he might hear, and then thudding hard against his ribs in relief the very instant head heard the next.

There were other sensations, too. He was vaguely aware that he was cold, his clothing soaked through with rain and blood. The smell of her blood mixed with acrid medicine clouded around him. And there were voices. Footsteps. Someone was shouting.

His eardrums felt like they were splitting. His sinuses ached. The chilled air felt like a thousand tiny needles on his skin. But it all felt unimportant - hardly more than a vague annoyance. Nothing mattered but listening for the next beat of Evelynn's heart.

Because if he didn't hear it... If she didn't survive.... And it was his fault...

Mason gave a shuddering grunt as his stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Someone was standing next to him. Close enough that he could feel their body heat, even though they weren't touching him. They were shouting. There was another voice, too, almost as loud, almost as close. He had to strain to hear Evelynn's next heartbeat over the noise. He couldn't care less about the noise itself, but he would end anything that threatened to drown out the only sound that actually mattered.

Mason whipped around to come face-to-face with Rebecca, a vicious snarl ripping out of him - a promise of such violence that Adam took several steps towards them, as if he feared he might have to intervene.

Rebecca didn't move. She didn't even pause in shouting at him. "--supposed to protect her!"

Nate tried to step in, his expression torn. "Agent Fair--"

Rebecca didn't seem to even hear him, continuing her tirade unbroken at Mason. "Explain to me how you let this happen!"

"And you're supposed to be her mother," Mason hissed.

The implication in his tone was finally enough to make Rebecca stop yelling. Her face went ashen with enough anger that it seemed she wasn't able to put her emotions to words.

Mason took a step forward, forcing her back. "So maybe you can explain to me why the fuck she thought it was a good idea to step between me and a fucking bullet!"

The change in Agent Fairwood was instant. The fury twisting her features slackened to horror. "She... what? Why?!"

"You fucking tell me!" Impotent frustration spilled out of Mason in a wordless roar, and he spun on his heel to punch the wall behind him, sending chunks of cinder-block flying.

Adam was next to him an instant later, a hand laid gently over Mason's throbbing fist. His eyes were filled with sympathy, but his tone brooked no argument, "I know. But if you do anything to endanger Evelynn's care, I will remove you."

Mason pulled his lips back, as if to snarl again. But underneath the aimless anger, there was another feeling, suffocating in its power, that demanded he listen because she mattered more than his rage. Mason forced himself to take a deep breath, closed his eyes, and nodded slowly.

In the meantime, Rebecca had collapsed into one of the waiting room benches, staring aimlessly at the door of the operating room. "Why would she...?"

Nate took a seat next to her. "The bullet was laced with DMB."

As Adam withdrew from Mason's side, Mason was left standing with his forehead pressed against the door once again. But it seemed now he remained at least partly aware of what was happening around him, because he ground out a response to Nate's comment; "What the fuck does that matter?"

"Enough to kill most vampires," Felix added softly.

Mason's hands curled into fists. "So? She fucking knows I can handle more DMB than most vampires. I would have been fine."

"Possibly," Adam answered, leaning heavily against the wall. "But evidently, that was not a risk she was willing to take on your life."

This time, another snarl did escape out of Mason as he turned to glare at Adam. "But it was a risk she was willing to take with hers?!"

The waiting room fell into an uncomfortable silence. The answer was obvious, but no one wanted to say it aloud. Mason knew very well that it was true. Nobody needed to say it, and it felt cruel to give unnecessary voice to his torment.

He gave a shuddering breath, one that sounded unpleasantly like a swallowed sob, and let himself slide down the wall to sit on the sterile linoleum, his head bowed and his hands curled tight in his hair.

Rebecca stared down at her hands, blinking rapidly. "I... I wanted it to be a failure. A mistake. A hole in procedure that could be filled. But we can't protect her if she would choose to..."

A sharp breath from Mason interrupted her, and she looked over to see him hunched even further forward, his shoulders pulled up to his ears, his fingers digging into his temples. She fell silent. He'd already borne the weight of her fear through her blame. He didn't need to be burdened further.

---

No one was entirely sure how much time had passed. No one had moved for however long it had been. The heartbeat was still there. Still fluttering. Perhaps just a little stronger.

The operating room door opened to Elidor. Everyone was on their feet in an instant. Most waited with baited breath for news, but Mason had no intention of waiting to hear what had happened to her. He needed to see her. Now.

Elidor didn't even have the chance to speak before Mason had ducked under his arm and disappeared into the operating theater.

"I-- She's not--!" A door slammed from inside, and Elidor pursed his lips in irritation, his gaze swinging back to those still waiting in front of him. "The rest of you can meet me at the observation room down the hall, where she is recovering from surgery." He stepped back and snapped the door shut again, grumbling to himself as he followed Mason.

There was a door inside the operating room which led directly into a series of hospital rooms, intended for those under medical observation after surgery. Evelynn had already been delivered to one when Elidor went to speak with Unit Bravo. Mason was already inside by the time Elidor caught up.

When he opened the door to the observation room, he found Mason seated on the floor next to Evelynn's bed. The position was nearly identical to the one he'd adopted while waiting for news - his head hanging between his knees, his fingers buried in his hair. But the tension threatening to tear him in half had eased; not gone, but lessened enough to make his exhaustion apparent.

Elidor came to a stop just in front of Mason, towering over the vampire with crossed arms. "Do you really think it's a good idea to be in here while you're covered in filth?"

Mason lifted his head slowly to peer down at his hands, smeared with the rusty-brown of dried blood. He didn't answer; he just pushed himself to his feet and trudged to the sink on the other side of the room, where he began to wash his hands. "Get me some scrubs."

Elidor watched, unmoving, with a deep frown. "You hate scrubs."

Mason paused, scowling at him. "Do you want me to change or not?"

Elidor hesitated, pursing his lips. He wanted Mason to go have a shower and get changed properly. And maybe get some sleep. There were rules for a reason, and he was not going to bend them for Mason! He was not!

Elidor scoffed under his breath about "heart-strings" and pulled open a drawer, pulling out a set of blue scrubs and tossing them down on the counter next to Mason. "You need a shower."

Mason huffed out a breath. "Yeah, I know, I just..." His gaze pulled towards the bed as if drawn against his will, making him twist awkwardly even while he was still washing up.

A knock sounded at the door, and Elidor went to answer it, grumbling to himself.

Rebecca and the rest of Unit Bravo waited on the other side, each wearing hope on their faces with varying openness.

"She'll be okay?" Rebecca asked, swallowing against a voice that wobbled slightly.

Elidor nodded. "She was lucky. The bullet ricocheted off one of her ribs and only clipped one of her lungs, and the path was pretty clean. The damage could have been considerably worse. She may lose some mobility in her left shoulder, but she should otherwise make a full recovery. A slow recovery, but a full one."

"Can we see her?" Felix asked.

"She won't wake now until at least morning," Elidor answered, rolling his eyes at Felix's pout. "You can go in and see her, but not all at once. And do not try to wake her up, or I will bar all of you from her room until she's fully recovered."

"We can wait until she wakes," Adam answered - though he was looking at Felix, despite responding to Elidor.

Felix scowled. "What? But--"

Nate offered a reassuring smile. "She's fine. We know she's fine. That should be enough. Besides, we could all use a little rest, after tonight. We'll see her first thing in the morning."

Felix peered into the room, his eyes lighting on Mason, who had returned to his silent vigil at the side of Evelynn's bed. "I... Yeah, alright. I guess."

The rest of Unit Bravo trailed slowly away, leaving only Rebecca to step inside the room. She stayed only a moment - long enough to leave a kiss on Evelynn's forehead - before retreating to prepare a report on this new weapon apparently in use by the Trappers.

She paused at the door, now that everyone else had gone, and looked at Mason. "Agent, I.... apologize for what I said earlier. It was said in fear and..." She sighed. "The truth is, it gives me comfort, knowing she has someone to watch over her when I can't."

And then she left Mason alone with the sound of Evelynn's heart beat.

---

It was difficult to say how much time had passed when another set of footsteps approached the door - ones that didn't belong to one of the medical staff who came in and out to check her status from time to time.

Nate stepped into the room and frowned when he saw Mason, still sitting on the hard floor. It seemed it hadn't moved at all.

"Mason, you need to get some rest." Nate settled down on the floor next to him, peering down at his friend, hoping to see any response at all.

Mason didn't move, but Nate did hear a faint growl rumbling in his chest at the suggestion.

Nate sighed. "Why not? She'll be safe if you go clean up and get some sleep."

There was a long silence, and Nate started to think that maybe Mason was just going to refuse any conversation at all, until grey eyes peered up at him from under a mess of dark hair. "I can't, I need to hear that... that she's alive."

Nate pursed his lips. Mason did need to get some rest, but his heart wouldn't allow him to insist. Not after that. Unless...

Thinking quickly, Nate pushed himself to his feet. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Maybe I can help." And then he disappeared back into the hall.

A half hour later, the footsteps of that telltale long stride could be heard in the hallway again. Nate stepped silently back into the room, and placed a set of clothes on the floor next to Mason, with a plain plastic keycard on top.

Mason peered up at Nate, confusion colouring his expression enough that it was clear even in the dark. "What's this?"

Nate smiled, pushing wet hair back out of his face. "It's a change of clothes, and the key to the bathroom down the hall. It's meant for medical staff but I was able to convince the duty nurse to let you use it, just this once." He took a seat once more on the floor, this time opposite Mason. "There are only two walls between this room and the bathroom." He paused, lowering his voice. "You'll be able to hear her heartbeat in the shower. I checked."

There was silence, and then a deep, shuddering breath from Mason. He winced as he stood, his muscles protesting against having been held still for so long, and gathered up the pile of clothing. "Thanks."

Nate smiled. "Of course. I'll stay with her while you're gone."

---

Nate left shortly after Mason returned, freshly showered and changed out of his bloody clothes. At some point while Mason was gone, someone thought to bring a chair into Evelynn's room. He pulled it as close to her bed as he could manage and settled into it, glad that at least he wasn't going to have to spend the night on the hard floor.

He might have gotten some sleep after that. It was hard to tell if he'd dropped off between beats of her heart. He must have, because even he wouldn't have been able to get through the night without at least some sleep. Not after all that had happened. It couldn't have been long, though; he was never asleep long enough to dream.

He had fallen into a half-aware doze around dawn when Evelynn murmured something in her sleep. He was on his feet the moment he realized he wasn't dreaming her voice, though not fast enough; she woke suddenly, pushing herself upright in bed with a cry of distress, followed immediately by cry of pain as her injuries were wrenched by the motion. Her throat was so dry that it felt almost cracked, and she curled forward, coughing violently.

"Woah, sweetheart, calm down." Mason knelt on the bed next to her, a glass of water already in hand. "You're alright." His arm wrapped low around her hips, pulling her towards him as he pressed the glass to her lips with his other hand. He told himself it was only to steady her as she drank, but there was no point in trying to keep up such an obvious lie. Not when it felt like a vice around his heart released the moment he touched her.

Evelynn emptied the glass, gingerly taking it from him to finish herself. But the moment she could think of anything beyond remembering how to breathe, she looked up at Mason with wide, worried eyes. "Mason." Her voice still sounded weak and shaky, but at least now she could speak without dissolving into a fit of coughs. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Mason scoffed, an echo of that fear-fueled anger surging in him again. "Me?! You're the one who got shot!"

Eve leaned gingerly against his side for support, already feeling like sitting up on her own was too much exertion. She knew she should probably lie back down, but the terror of the shooting was still too fresh - she wasn't willing to let him go. Not yet. She needed the reassurance that he was here, warm and breathing next to her. "I know, but if it had passed through, it still might have hit you."

Mason let out a growling breath that sounded quite a lot like a murmured curse of some kind. "Let me get this straight. You're worried about me, because you think I might have been hit if the bullet passed completely through your chest?"

Well, it sounded ridiculous when he framed it that way. Eve tucked her head down against his shoulder, as if that might hide her blush - as if he wouldn't be able to feel the heat of it anyway. "...Yeah, that's... pretty much exactly it."

Mason groaned, pressing his lips to her temple before he said something stupid in his frustration. After several slow breaths, he finally ground out, "Could you please just be selfish for five fucking minutes?"

Guilt prodded at Evelynn, and she closed her eyes, unsure of how to explain. "I am being selfish." She didn't even have to look at him to sense his disbelief. She could feel it in the way his lips moved against her skin, and in the way his breath washed over her hair. Despite the situation, despite the pain, it tugged the corners of her lips into a sad little smile. "I could pretend it was heroism or self-sacrifice. But the truth is, I had to pick between potentially losing you, and getting shot." She picked awkwardly at a loose thread in the sheets. "Getting shot just seemed like it would hurt less."

A growl rolled out of him at that. Did she seriously expect him to believe this bullshit? "Oh, yeah." The sarcasm in his tone even more cutting than usual. "How selfish of you to be willing to die for every fucking person who ever ends up in danger in this town."

Some distant part of Eve's mind said that he wasn't being fair. She didn't exactly run around trying to die for people. She was willing to put herself in danger for others, sure, but that was hardly the same as taking a bullet for them. Did he really not understand? "It... wouldn't be selfish if I did it for someone else."

She felt it, the moment Mason understood just what she was trying to say. There was a beat or two of confusion, and then his spine went rigidly straight and he sucked a breath in through his teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Evelynn squeezed her eyes shut, shuffling a little closer to him to tuck her head under his chin. "I told you." Her answer was so small that it was difficult even for him to hear - especially over the thundering of her heart. "I was being selfish. I picked the thing that would hurt me the least. Getting shot would hurt less than losing you. Just you." Her fingers crawled hesitantly over the sheets until she could hook one of her fingers over one of his; desperate for the affection, but afraid he was too angry or uncomfortable for the contact. "It... wouldn't be selfish if it was someone else."

The silence hung heavily over them as Mason as he tried to process what she was saying. Not the words themselves, but what she really meant - what she must feel, if this was true. It was so tempting to wrap his other arm around her and pull her closer against him. But he knew he couldn't, not without hurting her, so he caught her fidgeting hand in his instead, weaving their fingers together and holding tight.

They were avoiding the word for this feeling, both of them, as if it would make a difference. As if leaving it unsaid would protect them - would protect him, because he knew he was the coward who feared it, that she would have said it long ago if she thought he would have wanted to hear it. As if he wasn't living the very pain and fear right now that he was pretending he could avoid if he didn't give this feeling a name. As if voicing a single word would make any difference in how afraid he was to lose her.

When he finally responded, his voice was rasping and uncertain. "...Why?"

The question was so unexpected that Eve almost laughed. "You know why, Mason."

She was right. He did know. He thought it would scare him, but mostly he just felt stupid for thinking that denial would somehow protect him. The terror was still there, of course - it just was no longer the fear of giving into this feeling. It was too late for that.

Some small, puerile part of him wanted her to promise she'd never do anything like this again. But a larger, more solid part of him - a part coloured, perhaps, by that feeling he still lacked the courage to name - told him that he couldn't; if she asked the same of him, if she tried to make him promise not to sacrifice himself for her, he'd refuse. If he was the one choosing between his life and hers, he'd choose hers, every time.

And maybe... maybe there was something warm in the thought that it was unfair to ask that of her, because it meant that she felt this with the same terrifying depth that he did.

So instead, he heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. "Yeah, well... I guess I'm selfish that way, too."

Eve turned her head to press a kiss to his collar. He could feel the smile on her lips. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For... understanding, I suppose."

A low groan dragged its way out of Mason, and he gave in, just a little, to his desire to pull her closer. "I wish I didn't."

She answered with a quick, breathless chuckle, looking up at him half-closed eyes. "I know."

Mason huffed out sigh halfway between annoyed and affectionate. "Figures. You know everything else." Untangling their hands, he brushed his fingers gently across her cheekbone.

Eve seemed to relax into him at the gesture, her eyes fluttering closed. When she opened them again, she found Mason dipping down to press a quick, chaste kiss to her lips.

"You need to sleep, sweetheart."

She caught the hem of his shirt again, pulling gently. "Will you stay?"

He chuckled, low and indulgent, in a way that said he was surprised she felt the need to ask. Settling back against the pillows, he opened his arms for her to join him and she shuffled eagerly but gingerly into place, trying to find a balance between staying a close as possible without further aggravating her injuries.

As she settled, he answered in a mumble, so quiet that she wasn't sure if she was meant to hear at all. "Not even the end of the world could make me leave."

[musicblogwales]

Track By Track: Tom Emlyn 'Rehersal For The Rain: Scardycat, Vol 2

Swansea Singer-Songwriter and Storyteller 'Tom Emlyn' has released his latest album 'Rehearsal For The Rain: Scaredycat, Vol 2 and will be released digitally, on Cassette alongside a short story called 'Phosphoresence'. The album is available now from Bandcamp.

We've been honoured for an exclusive Track by Track of the album.

Following the release of his recent single 'Double-Crossed', Welsh singer-songwriter Tom Emlyn releases his new album 'Rehearsal For The Rain: Scaredycat, Vol.2'. The self-produced record is his fourth solo effort in the space of two years, continuing an impressive streak of creativity and inspiration.

Tom Emlyn's fourth album in two years,Rehearsal For The Rain: Scaredycat Vol. 2is a self-produced, powerful, fully realised creative statement.

In summer 2022, Tom released his debut solo album ‘News From Nowhere’, a bittersweet love letter to his hometown of Swansea, described by Adam Walton (BBC Radio Wales) as a record of “undoubted brilliance, eloquence and energy”. It has been positively received, with airplay and support from Radio Wales, BBC Horizons, R.E.P.E.A.T. fanzine, God Is In The TV, and Joyzine, among others. Tom’s second album ‘I’ve Seen You In Town’ followed quickly– a more mellow, acoustic affair which was also well received. He also released the ‘Scounger EP’on Bandcamp last February.

His latest record follows hot on the heels of Return Journey Revisited: Scaredycat Vol 1, which was released in May 2023. In the same vein as the first volume, Rehearsal For The Rain gathers up lost fragments from years of songwriting and making music.

Featuring recent single 'Double-Crossed' with its tender vocals, introspective lyrics caressing a daydreaming guitar motif, and lo-fi percussion it explores the darker side of self-reflection to a stripped back Velvet Underground-inspired groove. The album is a dreamlike, lo-fi psychedelic bedroom pop journey, with elements of prog, blues, indie and alternative folk."Peripatetic musical genius" - Adam Walton

Track By Track: Tom Emlyn | Rehersal For The Rain: Scardycat Vol 2

Fire On Fairwood Common

If you travel from Swansea along Gower Road, through Uplands, Sketty and Killay, Fairwood Common is the first part of the Gower Peninsula you'll encounter - a rugged, wind-swept heath dotted with gorse and abandoned airstrips. This is the oldest song on this album. Originally I wrote it when I went away to university. It was meant to be a song about leaving home and the way that things shift and change while you're away. A coming-of-age kind of song. I came back home for a visit and the Swansea Evening Post  were reporting a huge fire on the common, although I don't think they knew whether it was an accident or intentional. Probably some bored teenagers messing around. It seemed a destructive and uncanny image that was fitting for the changes I was going through.

The recording originally dates from 2016, a time when I was playing in a more prog rock style, which is explains the mellotron and the bouncy Jethro Tull-esque middle section. I added heavier, darker fuzzed and flange guitars and the chaotic Korg Monotron synth much more recently. When I originally wrote the song, there were many more lyrics painting the picture of domestic change, but it served the song to strip them away and just have the direct simplicity of 'there's a fire on fairwood common / gorse bushes burning in the dark / there's a fire on fairwood common / and I'm not home.' 

The original lyrics were just too on the nose, I think. Here's a sample; 'I've been home for a day, and things are changing / petrol shortages and mortgages / my pets are all dead, buried at midnight / childhood pets, adult silhouettes.' It works better as a more abstract, open song, allowing the sweeping warble of the synth to take the lead. This stripping-away of weaker lyrics is something I did a few times on this album.

2. Hall of Mirrors

Another song with a long history. The recording dates back to 2017, but I added some heavier guitars doubling what I played on the bass when I tried to record it originally, which gave it the grounding it was missing for a while. I envisioned the song originally as "sci-fi skiffle", whatever that is, although it's got a heavier feel to it now. I wanted to write something carnivalesque, a song that deals with the ways we can be reflected in the internet and social media, like a grotesque funhouse attraction. We're all reflected in the screens of our black mirrors, but they reflect and distort back onto us as well.

There are some interesting sounds in the recording, including saxophone on the outro and flute by Swansea musician Felix Subway. The Korg Monotron synth makes another appearance, and there are some bleeps and swooshing noises which were made by a smartphone app that created glitchy electronic sounds. The percussion was added recently. We recorded it all in our flat in Riverside, Cardiff. Instead of using a drumkit, we just added every percussion instrument we had to hand - djembe, triangle, bongo, kick drum, cajon, snare, cabasa, vibraslap, claps. It added a lot of weight to the track.

There's a mention in the lyrics of a certain Swansea music venue which was just an incidental throwaway at the time. However the venue has more recently gone down the misinformation/ antivax/ right wing rabbit hole. An interesting incidence of a lyric becoming more apposite with the passing of time, and more appropriate to the theme of the song, funnily enough.

3. Kafka  

The recording of this was all done last year, but the song has been around for much longer. A fairly standard blues affair, I've come back to the lyric many times but always given it a new arrangement, appropriate for the circular nature of the words. This final version is a satisfying garage-rock vamp; I'm really happy with the super-distorted lo-fi harmonica, recorded with a Bullet mic, and the overall gritty, angular production. It's got a poppy structure that just feels right. I layered two drum takes over each other to make it extra chaotic, and Evan played a funky bassline. I also used the Bullet harmonica mic on vocals all over the album. At the end of Kafka, you can just about hear a radio broadcast coming through my guitar pickups as the song fades out.

4. Rehearsal For The Rain

Another song which originally had more lyrics. Here's a sample; 'time is a waitress / and my table is served last / but after all it's just a reminder / the guitar is still in the garden / swollen and warped, the keys won't turn'. I think it works a lot better with a very spare and sparse approach. It's almost an instrumental now, with only four words - 'rehearsal for the rain'. I think it was called 'rehearsing for the rain' at some point, but it didn't really sing as well. I don't know what it means. Performing for nobody, or your audience only being the natural world, or something. Maybe the rain itself is just a rehearsal for some future cataclysmic flood.

I put a bit of phaser on the cymbals for a nice washy effect. The track overall has a really cinematic feel. I think it takes you on a dreamlike journey, moving through 4 different sections that feel melancholy and celebratory at the same time. The warbly Casio synth in the middle is really nice. We overlaid cymbals in the middle and used timpani sticks. The electric guitar tones were done with a tiny solid state Vox amp.

5. Chemical Road

This tune is from the same 2017 sessions as Hall of Mirrors. I originally wrote this when I was sitting on a bus going through Morriston in Swansea. I saw a street sign that said 'Chemical Road' and it made me contemplate how strange and toxic-sounding a name that was for a place for human beings to live. I started thinking about post-industrialism and decay, and it turned into this kind of dreamlike, fragmentary kitchen-sink drama about two romantically-entangled characters separated by the mundanity of their surroundings. I like the image of 'an orange river flowed', which is really something from my childhood memories.

All the chords in the verse are 9th chords, which gives it a lovely open jazzy feel. At one point there was a sax solo in the middle, which has been deleted.

While I was recording the song in the YMCA in Swansea, some children were playing outside. We stuck a microphone next to the window and recorded the sound of their laughter. At some point, though, the file was lost.

There's no proper drumkit on the song, only toms.

6. Llangennith (intermission)

An ambient instrumental based around guitar harmonics with different delays applied. I did think it was quite long, but cutting it down would take away from the meditative repetition of it all. There's some interesting sounds including some keyboard chords placed in a random order. My ex-girlfriend built me a diddly-bow, which is like a primitive one-string slide guitar. It created some interesting textural effects with a bit of processing, sounding almost like a windchime at some points. Llangennith is a beach in North Gower where I used to work in a beach cafe for several summers - the same subject as my short story Phosphorescence which I'm releasing along with the album. I thought it would be nice to have an intermission on the record, a bit like the intermission in Monty Python and the Holy Grail or 2001: A Space Odyssey. Another cinematic touch. A chance for listeners to go and grab a coffee or beer in-between the more fleshed-out tracks. It's fitting that the track is named after a period that was an intermission in my life, in a way.

7. I Don't Want To Be A Rockstar

This lyric was based on my memory of my school leaving assembly. The teachers made a cheesy leaving video in which they all mimed to the song 'Rockstar' by Nickleback. It's an exploration of that - rejecting the general prescribed idea of success and more specifically of musical ambition. This song was originally called Rockstar as well, but I thought it was a bit bland. The new title 'I Don't Want To Be A Rockstar' might sound a bit negative, but if you listen to the lyrics, the other half of the title is 'I Just Want To Play My Guitar', so really it's a rejection of the rockstar image and mythos in favour of just being a musician and a craftsman, playing music rather than pursuing a self-destructive myth. Although I probably still do want to be a rockstar, admittedly. It's a self-deprecating and ironic title. 

Recorded in lockdown, we added drums more recently. My drummer Jack said the song sounds like a band being forced to play a song. We ended up deleting all the drums except the ridiculous Nirvana-esque heavy middle section, which comes out of nowhere. I think he played it like that originally as a joke, but it made the song much better.

8. It Came Back To Me

Inspired by the Kinks, this was another lockdown project. Musically a bit complex - every section is in a different key, following on from the section before, which took a while to figure out structurally. It's an abstract Southwalian drama, inspired by looking out across derelict rooftops and tenement buildings, imagining the dreams and interior lives of the people that live in them. Lyrically, it deals with maintaining the fragility of your innocence in a decaying world.

9. Double-Crossed

Written in lockdown, this was a Velvet Underground-esque groove. The lyrics were sparked by realising I'd never walked down a cul-de-sac near where I grew up, even though it was just over the road. It made me wonder about the people that lived there, and their internal lives. So close, yet so far away. This, combined with some of my thoughts about the isolation of lockdown, became a brooding, thoughtful, poetic tune. It's a song about betraying yourself - there's a double meaning there. Betraying yourself in the sense of stabbing yourself in the back, but also giving too much of yourself away or exposing yourself. The song is a confessional, epic ballad with some glam rock undertones.

10. Somewhere There's A Dry Shore

This was meant to be a proper song with lyrics, but the only words I ever wrote were 'walking down the M4 / when the sky begins to pour'. I couldn't get any further than that for some reason, so rather than force it, I decided it worked best as an instrumental. It was inspired by the chords of 'Hesitation Blues' by Dave Van Ronk. Originally recorded by Dave Milsom for Death Monkey records, it's a fitting end to the album. Like the closing credits of a film.

Buy 'Rehearsal For The Rain: Scaredycat, Vol 2 Here

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