#rosie lowe birdsong

[knightofleo]

Rosie Lowe | Birdsong

[noblesouls]

a study.

BASICS.

full name : olynna blackwood name meaning : helpful, researcher, comfortable nicknames : oly, nana. epithets : the beauteous raven titles : lady of raventree hall gender / pronouns : cis woman / she/her sexuality : heterosexual date of birth : on the thirteen day of the first month age : seven and twenty years zodiac : capricorn place of birth : raventree hall, the riverlands, westeros accent : northern westerosi languages : common tongue, old tongue, high and low valyrian allegiance : house blackwood religion : the old gods

APPEARANCE.

faceclaim : synnove karlsen height : 5′5″ eye color : blue/grey hair color : brunette with copper undertones dominant hand : ambidextrous

MEDICAL.

mental : n/a physical : n/a

PERSONALITY.

positive traits : eloquent & resourceful negative traits : opinionated & judgemental hobbies : reading, needlework, medicine, horse back riding

RELATIONSHIPS.

parents : ruling lord lonan blackwood & late ruling lady ilianna blackwood siblings : lord alton blackwood, lord samwell blackwood, lady alyce blackwood, lady melissa blackwood, lady ilianna blackwood extended family : tba spouse : n/a children : n/a pets : birdsong ( raven ), onyx ( friesian stallion)

FAMILY DYNAMICS.

house blackwood is an ancient one and as so they were expected to carry duty over anything else. it was why even though lord lonan had fallen for different woman and fathered a bastard he still married the woman chosen for him by his father. sealing his fate and that of lady ilianna for a miserable marriage. the new lady blackwood vent backwards in hopes to gain the favor of her husband, and when she gave him a son she almost thought she had him, only to learn his mistress had also given him a daughter not long after. but she did not give up, her children watched her break for a man that paid her no mind, and eventually she lost her life in the false hope of giving him another son. not long after mourning period and with no one else to deny him he married his mistress and legalized his bastards. now the power balance tips back and forth with the ruling lady fighting for her bastard born son to become lord heir, while the children of the first wife refuse to back down.

BIO.

olynna had been her mothers treasure, a soft chubby babe that cried rarely and laughed often. the second gem of raventree hall, gentle demeanor and rosie cheeks, her birth had been an ease, as if predicting the calming nature that would run through her veins. as she grew up it was clear olynna would be everything a lady was expected to be, soft spoken, witty, gentle, but the demeanor of any raven ran deep in her and she was also strong willed and opinionated. and while she had a tendency to please and listen to the careful path suggested for her, there were instances were her strong personality came to shine.

her role was clear, even though she was her parents beloved, she would marry to strengthen the alliances when the time came. but that wasn’t enough for her, learning needle point, how to rule a house, she demanded to learn politics and strategies, she took her lessons and asked for more, the more knowledge was poured into her the more she craved

her life came to a sudden halt when her mother became pregnant once over, the pregnancy had her sick and bed ridden, and not long after the babe had been born lady ilianna was not longer with them leaving olynna with the weight of a promise to always look out for her siblings. at the tender age of thirteen she took it to heart, leaving everything that wasn't their care to become second in her list

but the little piece they manage to find came crushing when his father did what olynna had been most afraid, decided to marry his mistress, which she knew would only be the beginning of the darkness that would surround their lives. the children of the first ruling lady of the house welcomed the new comers with resistance, specially olynna, whom would accept no other than her mother as ruling lady and so raventree hill became a war camp

oly against all odds grew older she grew into herself; smarter and beautiful, she began creating her own alliances, her own networks. a woman that supported her family, her siblings, her friends, loyal to a fault.

olynna has seen what love has done to her father, and it terrifies she could be the same way, love is something she deprives herself of and has pledged against it. if she could remain unmarried and dedicated to her healing, her main goal is simply secure her brothers seat.

CONNECTIONS.

childhood friends; perhaps someone who knew her when she was a wild little thing swimming in the rivers of the riverlands and running through the field, stealing her fathers horse early in the mornings.

a pen pal; perhaps someone she only came across once before in the years but they shared letters constantly through the distance and time

a betrothal; set perhaps by their parents by pure political strategy, or they could be a lord in search of their own ambitions. could be nothing more than this

[maylilithreign]

Hi my darling,

I did the following five senses for Lyra. I'd love to know them for Elsie!

Sight - what colour is she? Lyra is a typical Gemini and has two answers for everything. She's red like her hair or blue like her eyes.

Taste - what does she love? Lyra is complex, sweet and salty or sweet and spicy, like salted caramel or chili chocolate.

Smell - what is her scent? Lyra is comforting like coconut and marshmallows.

Touch - What texture represents her? Lyra is soft, like sun-kissed skin in summer or a fluffy scarf in winter.

Sound - What sound is she? Lyra is peaceful, like birdsong in summer or those whispering breezes in winter.

Love you!! Have a super lovely day!!

ooh hi my darling Kelly!! 😍😘 What a good set of questions!! Lyra is so, so lovely and gorgeous 💓 Lmfao also I started answering this this morning, saved it to my drafts and fell back asleep. Just remembered I had it half-finished and wanted to complete it for ya!

Sight - Elsie's birthday is December 15th, making her a Sagittarius. Like her sign, Elsie is more than just human. Her colouring complexion wise is very fair, but with a healthy, rosy glow. I associate Elsie with a deep, dark shade of blue. Everything about Elsie calls to mind a deep, old well of history, or something as vast and powerful as the sea.

Taste - Elsie has a huge sweet tooth. Her favourite thing to eat is pastries, in particular maple bars. But I often think of her as dark chocolate. A fancy bar of dark chocolate with nuts and berries in it. The kind you'd get in a nice Christmas (or Winter Star, lol) basket.

Smell - Elsie smells like wildflowers and cedar. Like a fresh morning in Cindersap forest, when there is just the lightest sprinkling of frost on the ground.

Touch - Because of her powers, Elsie is initially cold to the touch. But it's just surface level. She's warm underneath, like when you're buried under a thick blanket of snow. Elsie is a creature of immense grace, despite her strength and speed. She's also soft, in spite of her muscular physique. I suppose overall Elsie's vibe feels like a maternal fairy spirit. Comforting and with an air of enchantment.

Sound - Unsurprisingly, Elsie has a beautiful singing voice. Her voice is low and husky at first, but then clear as a bell. When she sings a certain tune, she can call the fairies. Sometimes, when he's at his lowest, the only thing that works to soothe the storm inside Shane is Elsie's voice (I am cheesy, everyone hush 😅).

Thanks again for asking me, lovely!! 😍

[deepergrooves]

André 3000's 'New Blue Sun' Vancouver Review

Highly anticipated ambient jazz show marks a new dawn but leaves fans ATLienated

Birdsong, crickets and rich ambient soundscapes echoed through the deep purples, rosy reds and starlit ceiling of the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver on Friday October 11. The scene was perfectly set for a first glimpse at André 3000's highly anticipated 'New Blue Sun Live' Concert series, an unexpected leftfield step into instrumental ambient jazz from the seven-time grammy winning hip hop icon.

Warm up act serpentwithfeet created a suitably gentle atmosphere with kind-hearted crowd participation numbers and feel good R&B. Despite a few empty seats in the pit, likely a result of the high ticket pricing, the room was poised and curious to see how this drastic stylist shift would translate to the stage.  

Origins, synergy and mystical synchronicity

The cosmic butterfly effect that led to the creation of André 3000's 'New Blue Sun' album has already become a tale of folklore. There have been countless stories of André, seemingly never to be found without some kind of wind instrument in hand, serenading unsuspecting Uber drivers and wandering the strip of his new home of Venice Beach like a nomadic jazz monk. It was one such encounter with legendary Californian music arranger and percussionist Carlos Niño in a Venice Beach grocery store that apparently sparked a creative partnership between the two that birthed the 'New Blue Sun's album project. Niño does admit that he had been keeping an eye out for André when he heard he'd moved to town but don't let the truth get in the way of a good story!

Before this reawakening, again mythically attributed to a Hawaiian ayahuasca trip (referenced in the album track 'That Night In Hawaii When I Turned Into A Panther And Started Making These Low Register Purring Tones That I Couldn't Control...Shit Was Weird'), André admitted that he had been suffering with creative block, social anxiety and a mounting sense of pressure to deliver something great in this next phase of his life. In a candid interview with hip hop mogul Rick Rubin on the 'Broken Record' podcast he sounded lost and fearful of his legacy. There was however a flicker of light in André's voice when he began speaking about his new meditative morning breathing routine, involving experimentation with an eclectic set of wind instruments.

Building anticipation - A deep, earthy and aesthetically engaging opening

The show began with a striking visual of a single white beam of light entering a prism just above what looked like a traffic cone before splitting into reds and greens in front of André, backed by his supporting musicians and six lights in a half-crest formation behind the stage. The lighting overall was dark and moody with André just about visible with his red jazz-elder beanie and glasses.

He was stood before a blanket that housed numerous flutes, whistles and other tools. To his right was keyboardist, and Alice Coltrane disciple, Surya Botofasina. At the back was the aforementioned Carlos Niño who seemed to set the tone with various percussion instruments, gongs, shakers and even plants which were a big source of inspiration for the album. To his left, composer and percussionist Deantoni Parks, responsible for the pulsing beat that surfaced through the evening.

The opening song built slowly with Carlos Niño employing various rattles, bushes and what looked like a slinky being swung above head at various points. André let out a mix of guttural and high pitched yelps and animalistic sounds in what felt like a Sun Ra-esque free jazz introduction. Some in the audience seemed bemused early on but for the most part the crowd was still on board and excited with yelps of approval in response to André.

After the first song, André reassuringly addressed the crowd with his southern charm and silky charisma. He introduced the band, cracked a few light jokes and explained the approach to the night - a purely improvised experiment and journey that we would all be embarking on together. It felt courageous and bold, in keeping with the album itself, but what was to follow unfortunately felt for the most part meandering, lacking cohesion and at times difficult to digest.

A brave pursuit but ATLienating for fans

There were some moments where it felt like the embers of an idea were burning but they were never fully formed or realized. A deep, dark primal drum beat from Deantoni Parks ultimately petered out. A lightsaber like hum and arpeggio riff from Surya Botofasina that felt like it could take things in a cosmic, electronic direction (adjacent to album track 'BuyPoloDisorder's Daughter Wears An André 3000 Shirt Embroidered') again pulsated and dropped out before ever taking hold.

Overall, there was a lack of melody, hooks, breaks or structure. There was no pattern, story or resolution to the jam-session musings. There were also no direct songs or distinct elements from the album that could be latched onto. Pure experimentation is a noble pursuit, but for a new group and an artist who is admittedly new to the instruments and finding his feet, it felt like a lot to take on.

At one point André began riffing in what sounded like an imitation of a primal language, which he jokingly admitted he had been making up on the spot. It was a funny moment, but a bit too close to the bone for someone attempting to communicate using instruments he wasn't necessarily fluent in.

It was hard to tell if the accomplished band were limited by André's range or if they were intentionally playing a supporting role but either way they were consigned to little more than background hushes, atmospheric flashes and ponderous patterns.

The final crescendo, albeit very charged, was particularly challenging and had the feel of a free jazz ayahuasca trip being led by an inexperienced astral traveler, with Andre finally slowing things down by breathing rhythmically into the microphone as the lights turned to blue.

New Blue Sun - A New Dawn for André 3000

I still love André 3000 and support this artistic change; the New Blue Sun album is fantastic and deserving of acclaim. This is undoubtedly the start of a process and an experimental phase for a long term project, but the current iteration felt ill equipped for such an ambitious undertaking. Despite the dark mood lighting, the stage left nowhere to hide. In the end, there was a limp standing ovation but no calls for an encore.

This felt like a harsh reset, a journey of purification teetering on the edge of a bad trip, but cleansing for what will hopefully now be futile ground for one of our generations true shining stars. The New Blue Sun is rising, but the cold light of day can be harsh.

[vm4vm0]

Rosie Lowe - Birdsong from Jovan Todorovic on Vimeo.

Artist: Rosie Lowe Track: Birdsong

Director: Jovan Todorovic

Director of Photography: Steve Annis Editor: Milena Z. Petrovic

Costume Designer: Celia Arias Costume Design Assistant: Barbara Pugliese

Make Up Artist: Jess Summer Make Up Assistant: Emily Engelman

Colorist: Mikey Rossiter @ The Mill Color Producer: Evan Bauer

Choreography & Movement: Pamela Palombo

Sound Design: Aleksandar Protic

1st AD: Thomas Bentley 2nd AD: Ike Newman Runner: Jerry Matthews

Focus Puller: Eira Wyn Jones 2 ND AC: Klára Ruchtarčiková Steadicam: David Pulgarin Dit: Ellie Bright

Grip: David Bradshaw Gaffer: Alex Gibbons

Stink Films

Executive Producer: Katie Lambert Producer: Rosie Litterick PA: Hannah Jackson PA:: Alasdair Copland

Cast:

Walton Maclaren John Sugden Dom McGilvray Edmund C. Short John Bagenal Frank Gordon Michael Lipman Baby Paris Baby George

2019.

[mu-sique]

Rosie Lowe - Birdsong

Después de debutar en 2016, Rosie Lowe se juntó a una bola de mentes maestras para hacer su segundo disco. YU sale el próximo 10 de mayo, y está producido por Dave Okumu (qué también le ha echado la mano a Nilüfer Yanya) y tiene coros de Jamie Woon, Jamie Lidell, Kwabs, entre otros. Acá está la primera probadita “Birdsong”, enjoy.

[lunapaper]

I loved Rosie Lowe’s early singles. ‘Right Thing’ was heartbreakingly sensual. ‘Me And Your Ghost’ was simply sublime. ‘Water Came Down’ and ‘How’d You Like It,’ meanwhile, were sophisticated pop gold.

But, for some strange reason, we didn’t get to see that magic on her 2016 debut album Control, a sleek yet mostly benign effort. Even worse, 'Me And Your Ghost,’ ‘Water Came Down’ and ‘How’d You Like It’ weren’t even included on the album.

Hopefully her latest single, ‘Birdsong,’ is a sign of good things to come, a woozy, hypnotic cut of synth-streaked RnB funk quick to pull you under its spell. The video, meanwhile, sees the cracks quickly form around the British singer, in the role of a disillusioned miner’s wife.

Honestly, does this whole clip kinda look like a hipster Poldark or what? (¬‿¬)

‘Birdsong’ is from Rosie Lowe’s second album YU, out May 10. Read the review for her debut album Control here.

- Bianca B.

[losangeleslovesyou]

ROSIE LOWE : BIRDSONG

[come-to-the-opera-with-me]

'Til the early morning

Baby, the love that you give

Takes me to Heaven, to paradise

Birdsong

Every note that you sing

Tells me I'm doing something right

- Birdsong by Rosie Lowe

[sadsexysag]

YU by Rosie Lowe (2019)

[murphy-kitt]

Core - Day Six

(Part 2: Candlelight)

Jack can’t remember when he first started hearing the humming.

It seemed to hover in his ear, buzzing constantly — not in an annoying way that would make him want to destroy everything in a ten mile radius until he found it — but rather a muted humming, like the sound of a bustling city in the distance, or white noise ruffling in the air.

Sometimes it was actually quite soothing. A few times he’d almost fallen over in a trance while inventing, Maddie clearly concerned to why he wasn’t his usual enthusiastic self.

At first, Jack didn’t really mind. It wasn’t as if the sound was annoying him, and the rest of his family weren’t bothered by it (if they were, they would’ve said by now), so he went on as usual.

But as time dragged on, the humming still remained. Faint, but there. Never really going away.

Yet, he still didn’t find himself being annoyed at the sound, rather a growing sense of curiosity at what the mysterious noise was. Where was it coming from? What was it?

Jack was a naturally curious soul, always questioning the why’s and what’s and how’s of the Earth. He’d driven his parents crazy as a child, but he only wanted the answers. If they couldn’t give them, then he’d set out to find them himself.

His ma, Florence, had been like that too. Or maybe not to the same extent, but she had always been a curious one, prancing with him through the wheat fields, while his older brothers and father worked on the farm.

She’d sit him on her lap, red curls pushed back and smiled at him with rosy cheeks and glittering icy blue eyes.

“Now don’t you ever lose your curious streak, you hear me Jack? Always be out there exploring.”

Then she’d died along with his baby sister, and then words had been even more important than ever. Instead of becoming more reclusive, like a majority would, he embarked on exploring on his mother’s behalf, completing adventures that she wouldn’t be able to.

Unfortunately, neither Danny or Jazz seemed eager to embark on adventures or even spend time with him anymore. Danny was distanced more than ever, he’d been splitting from them more, and Jack couldn’t even connect with Jazz anymore.

There’d been a brief time where Danny had wanted to be an astronaut and explore the stars, and Jack had marvelled (even if he had tried to push the career of a ghost hunter towards his son), seeing his mother’s curiosity shining through. But that had fallen and crumbled with the ashes.

So there he was, in the lab, the humming crooning in his ear like a low birdsong. It was stronger, Jack noted, there was a sort of routine. Stronger in the morning and evenings. Nonexistent in the afternoon, although sometimes there may be a slight whistle of invisible sound. On weekends, it was constant.

He was jarred by the humming becoming louder, in the direction of the lab stairs, and Jack watched as his son traipsed down the stairs, blue eyes dull and dreary with boredom.

Just at the same time, a ghost invention rang behind him, wailing loudly, bright crimson lights filling the lab an anxious scarlet.

Ghost core detected! Ghost core detected within a 1 metre radius-

Frustration filled Jack as he slammed a hand on the button of the invention, trying to get it to shut up. Now was not the time!

Ghost core—

Danny had gone quiet, simply frozen in place, staring at his father. Inadvertently, Danny placed a hand on his chest, and Jack stared in confusion, still frustrated that the invention had unsettled his son and ruined any chances of talking to him.

Although Danny's stance was unusual, he thought. The inventions always went off around Danny, that wasn’t anything new. However Jack had tried his best to make sure the Fenton Core Finder wouldn’t detect Danny, but here they were.

What even had the invention detected?

Turning around, the dark blue eyed man grabbed the invention, knocking a few other items over as he did so, glancing at the small digital screen on the bottom of the Finder.

Current Power Usage: 5%

Radius: less than 1 metre, East

Core Status: Stable

Core Strength: 8.3

Worry filled Jack as he glanced at the screen, eyes darting around the room. There was currently a very strong ghost, no more than a metre from Danny and him. They were invisible obviously, just waiting to prey on them both.

He cursed internally for not having the ectosignature finder, Maddie had taken that out on patrol and the other was currently a pile of metal on the floor from where he’d knocked it off the desk. He couldn’t fix it right now, there wasn’t the time and the ghost might attack while he was doing so.

And amongst that was that humming still, Jack had forgotten about it briefly, but it was there, strong and fluttering in his ear.

Danny still had his hand over his chest, almost defensively, just in the exact spot of where a ghost's core would be, he noted with amusement.

However, the look on Danny’s face was anything but amusement. His son looked genuinely terrified.

But, when had Danny not behaved like this?

Ever since the accident, in which he was still in the dark about what happened, Danny had changed. Stopped being the curious person that Jack hoped he would grow up to be.

The Accident.

Since that time, Danny had acted weird, the inventions were malfunctioning around him. Now, Jack couldn’t remember when the humming had started, but something also told him around the start of Danny’s accident.

The humming, it was in the morning and it was in the evenings and now it was even stronger in the lab. But what was it?

Jack glanced at his son again, and back at the Core Finder, back at where Danny was shielding his chest.

Cogs turned in his head. It wasn’t scientifically possible, but there, Danny was holding his chest where a ghost's core would be. The Core Finder had gone off—

No. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

“—Always keep exploring”

He couldn’t just give up, because something might not be possible, or didn’t make sense to him.

Jack opened his mouth, and Danny’s body hitched and tensed.

“Danno, are you that humming sound I’ve been hearing for the past six months?”

As a heads up I’ve got exams every single day of the week for the next two weeks (except Monday + Weekends), I should be able to post DannyMay daily the first week but from the 18th — 21st I won’t be as active since those are the exam subjects I struggle with. Next Monday is also my birthday (yay!) so I’ll be busy then too. Looking back maybe it wasn’t the best idea to start a one-shot a day project considering my last track record of DP events have never be completed, but I want to finish this.

Murphy

[fandomcitymayor]

Birdsong - Rosie Lowe

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Primrose, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1929 Pairing: Male Reader x Male Orc (both cis)

Just a bit of fluff during these trying times.

xxx

I see him one bright summer morning in my grandmother's garden, near the edge of her property where the forest kisses the grass. I find him sleeping between the rosemary and the hydrangeas, curled up in the shade of a willow tree, barefoot and smelling of sweet wine. The morning sun has yet to reach him and so the dew still clings to him yet, making him almost seem to shimmer like a daydream in the dappled light.

He's big even for an orc, though I admit I haven't met many. His skin is the colour of cherry blossoms except where it seems to be lacking pigment, like a sliver which looks like a widow's peak that disappears into his vivid pink hair, and a splotch that spreads like a butterfly across his sharp cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His hair is a rich pink colour, long and thick and braided loosely, the ribbon almost lost to the clover and lemongrass he’s lying on. I take a moment to study him among the birdsong and the stirring of the cicadas in the forest, watching the rise and fall of his broad, hairy chest where it's exposed by buttons either undone or lost to the night's festivities.

He's the most handsome man I've ever seen, and I almost feel remorse when I upend a bucket of water over his head.

He snorts and gasps, splutters and coughs, looking about him wildly as he flails and struggles to right himself from his lazy sprawl. "What in the hell?" he exclaims, breathless and agog, and when he turns his baby blue eyes up to meet mine, they go wide as dinner plates.

"You're crushing the lemongrass," I tell him, keeping my face and tone neutral while I smother my amusement.

"Did you just soak me?" he asks, something like awe stealing across his face.

"You're crushing the lemongrass," I say again, propping my dripping bucket against my hip through the overalls I'm wearing. "My lemongrass. Get out of my garden, you drunk."

It seems he can contain himself no longer; he throws his head back and roars with laughter until tears gather in his eyes. "And here I heard no one but a canny old crone lived in this cottage!"

"My grandmother," I supply, feeling my lips curve up despite myself. "I'm just a canny young bastard."

"And what happened to the crone?" asks the orc, getting up and pulling his shirt over his head to wring it out over the hydrangeas.

I can't help but notice that his torso is thick and muscled, and that the dense curls on his chest go all the way down his soft belly. Here, they turn white along with his skin in a broad swathe, and I find myself wondering where else his skin changes colour beneath his clothes.

"See something you like?"

My eyes snap back up to the orc's face, and where I'm expecting a smug, lascivious smirk, there is instead a bemused, almost shy smile. I know that I don't blush when I'm embarrassed, but I'm surprised to see that he does, two spots of red blooming across his cheeks like roses.

"She fell and broke her hip three weeks ago," I tell him, and I make a point to look only at his face while he puts his shirt back on. "She left me in charge of the house. What's it to you?"

The orc holds up his hands, and I see that one palm is white as cream. "Only curious," he assures me, turning his gaze to the cottage behind me. "Nice place."

I give him a very flat look. "Try to rob me and you'll regret it."

Once again he laughs, gesturing with his hands as if to fend me off. "Easy, easy! Are you always so hostile?"

"Only to strangers who pass out drunk in my herb garden."

He smiles, then, and I curse him internally; of course he'd have dimples. "Well, what if we weren't strangers? I'm Primrose, but most just call me Prim. You are?"

I feel my eyes narrow as I weigh my options, absently drumming my fingers against the side of my bucket. I debate telling him my name, but his disarming smile pries it out of my mouth before I can think better of it.

Primrose’s eyes light up. “What a pretty name. It suits you. Not like mine.”

“Oh?” I call over my shoulder as I turn to head back to the house, pretending to be bored of the stranger who tromps through the herbs behind me in his haste to follow. “I’m sure I don’t care why.”

“Oh, come on,” the big orc snorts. “‘Primrose’? For a man? ‘Prim’ is my only saving grace!”

“Don’t you fancy hearing ‘Rosie’?” I ask knowing that I’m being prickly, putting aside the bucket and reaching for the garden hose.

Primrose stops short, mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he can grumble, “Only my mother calls me that.”

“It’s a good name,” I say, turning to face him with the hose head in my hand. “It suits you. Unlike mine.”

Primrose laughs awkwardly, eyeing the hose like a snake about to bite. “Is that for me?”

I lift a brow. “Do you want breakfast, or not?”

His belly answers before his mouth can, rumbling loudly between us and causing him to splutter and cover it with his hands as if to silence it. “I suppose I do,” he sheepishly replies.

“Then I’ll hose the mud off your feet and you’ll go straight to the bath. I’ll wash your clothes while you soak the booze out of your system, feed you, and then you can get the hell off of my property.”

“Bossy,” Primrose says with a laugh, startling only a little when I turn the cold water of the hose on his feet. “I don’t have the foggiest where I might have lost them.”

“Your marbles?” I drawl, and I thrill at the quick grin it earns me from the orc.

“My boots.”

“Hm. Come in, then. Mind the door.” I warn him just in time to save him a nasty knot on his forehead, leading him into my grandmother’s cottage to the big claw-foot tub that I begin to fill with steaming water. I add bath salts and rose oil for his muscles and for my own amusement, which he doesn’t seem to miss despite how straight-faced I keep.

“Very funny,” he rumbles, pulling the ribbon from his hair and shaking it out of its plait. It falls all the way down to his backside, and in that moment, I want nothing more than to put my fingers in it and play with it until I’ve figured out just how many shades of pink there are to find. I control my urges and rein in my impulses as I’ve always done, leaving briefly under the context of getting the washing machine ready and returning only once I’m sure he’s in the tub. It’s not hard to gauge when he enters; the cottage is quiet except for birdsong, and his groan is low and long.

I bustle in to gather his clothing and wrinkle my nose at the tattered hair ribbon; the silk was fine to begin with, but it’s been torn and tattered in small but noticeable ways along the ends, and the mud is in so deep that it may never come out. “You’ve ruined this ribbon,” I inform Primrose, pinning him with a scrutinising look that he wriggles under the weight of like an errant schoolboy.

“I don’t remember how or when,” he says. “Last night is… a blur, at best.”

“Hm,” I sniff, looking away from him to head for the door. “Maybe this will teach you not to drink so much in future. A ribbon can be replaced, but if you’d fallen asleep facedown in a ditch somewhere, the night’s rain would have drowned you. Is that how you want to go out? Drunk and drowning in a puddle somewhere?”

I almost feel sorry for the way I make him squirm, big as he is. He’s all muscle, barrel-chested and with hard, shapely legs that he draws up to his chest in the tub. “No,” he all but meeps, meek as a kitten. “My mother would bring me back just to kill me. I won’t drink so much again.”

“See that you don’t,” I reply, sweeping out of the room to get the laundry going. Halfway without thinking, I stash the ruined ribbon in my pocket and go upstairs to my room to fetch him another. I, too, have long hair that requires being tied back from time to time, so I grab one of my ribbons and place it on top of the pile when his clothing has been washed and dried. I set these just inside the bathroom door and inform him that breakfast will be ready within the hour, and so I hear him reluctantly begin the drawn-out process of unwillingly leaving a warm bath.

Breakfast is simple, but hearty. Eggs, potatoes, sausages—all locally sourced from the farmers in the countryside. I’m chewing on a mouthful of eggs when I remember I have a delivery to make to my grandmother’s egg supplier: a watermelon she had traded for that was a little overripe to eat, but perfect for the chickens as a treat. I inform Primrose of this and we both spend a moment looking at his feet, contemplating his predicament. In the end, I pick up the receiver in my grandmother’s kitchen and call a carriage for him, waving away his words of thanks.

“I mean it,” he insists. “If this house had been empty, I’d have had to walk all the way back to town barefoot.”

“It would have taught you a lesson, at least,” I say, and this time I can’t help the little smirk that steals across my face.

Primrose laughs, loud and joyful. “You’re a viper! Can nothing I say earn me any sweetness?”

“You want sweetness?” I ask, and I can feel myself smiling now. “Don’t pass out in my garden next time.”

Primrose leans in across the porch where we’re awaiting his carriage. “‘Next time’?”

“Oh, don’t read into it,” I huff, shaking my head and leaning against the railing. “You want sweetness, you need a better impression than what you’ve given. There’s Mr. Higgens now.” I gesture with my glass of lemonade, and Primrose’s expression falls.

“Ah.” We’re silent as the carriage pulls up the dirt road to the front door, and I wave to the driver and exchange pleasantries as Primrose reluctantly heads down the front porch steps. He looks back up at me when his feet hit the dirt, and I almost laugh at the way his big blue eyes look almost childishly hopeful. “Would you soak me if I visited again?”

“I might,” I say nonchalantly, tilting my head this way and that. “I might not.”

Primrose grins, and all at once all the wind is under his sails again. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, waving exuberantly from the carriage after he’s boarded it. I wave back, bemused by the morning’s events, and watch the carriage until it disappears around a woody bend and completely out of view. I go back inside and wash the breakfast crockery, shaking my head at myself and my foolishness when I find the ruined ribbon in my pocket when I’m wiping my hands on my jeans.

What was I doing? I had a watermelon to deliver.

[spacesquidlings]

Happy Father’s Day, Gavin

Gavin had never imagined a world where he would wake up every day to unconditional love and warmth. That he would be wanted and cherished by anyone again. But then he wakes up to his wife and his daughter trying to give him all the love in the entire world.

Pairing: Gavin x MC

Warnings: None

Notes: Thank you to one of my bestest friends @jihyuncompass who lets me ramble about Gavin all day long!!!!! I loves you Anne, thank you for always being the best.

ALSO this fic features my lil fan-kid for Gavin. Her name is Aurora and she is very loved.

ALSO, final note, but I’ve decided to stop using MC in lieu of an actual name just to make the fic flow a lil better

*******************************************************************************

Gavin woke up later than usual. He’d managed to get most of the week off, and he’d grown used to sleeping in, the warm cocoon of the blankets and his wife’s arms lulling him into a deep, heavy sleep. It wasn’t until the sunlight staining the curtains was a deep gold that he would slowly begin to wake, turning onto his side to pull Rowan against his chest and cuddle her for a while until his eyes were no longer crusted with sleep, and her voice lilted through the air, welcoming him into the new day.

But today when he reached for her, his eyes still closed, he was met with nothing.

Gavin frowned, reaching further across the bed, his hands meeting nothing but air and an empty bed.

His eyes snapped open and he winced, the sunlight shining directly into his eyes. The bed was indeed empty other than him, the sheets a rumpled mess, the pillows pushed around haphazardly the way Rowan often shoved them around when she was trying to wiggle against his chest.

He rolled over, wondering if maybe she was just in the bathroom, but the door was open and the light was off.

For a moment his heart sank, a bitter feeling of loneliness seeping into his heart and spreading across his tongue as he laid in the empty bed.

Where was Rowan? Where was his wife?

But then he heard the sound of footsteps heading towards the room, and the soft cadence of Rowan’s voice as she murmured something, so low Gavin couldn’t make it out.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he pulled the blankets back up around him, shutting his eyes as the bedroom door opened, his wife making her way through the sun-warmed room.

“Okay little princess,” she said, her voice low as she slowly sank onto the bed. “You can sleep with us for a bit, okay? But don’t bother daddy too much, it’s a special day for him, and he needs his sleep.”

“Okay mommy,” came the quiet response, and it was then that he realized that Rowan had only gotten up to retrieve Aurora, their toddler.

She’d been sleeping with them nearly every morning since she’d been a newborn, sometimes sandwiched between the two of them, sometimes carefully nestled into the bed next to Rowan when he had to leave early for work.

He felt the mattress shift again, and then a small body was curling up against his chest, little hands grasping at his shirt. The blankets lifted higher, and he felt them being tucked around him and Aurora as the toddler squirmed, giggling even as Rowan hushed her.

“Time for sleep, okay?” She whispered, and Gavin felt a hand against his brow, brushing back his bangs, and his heart warmed as he pictured the expression on his wife’s face, the tenderness in her eyes, the way her mouth curled up, her cheeks stained a rosy pink as she looked at him.

Aurora huffed, but curled closer against him, so much like her mother it made his heart ache.

“Happy daddy day,” she said, her voice already sounding tired, and he couldn’t help smiling, his heart aching from all the love that poured into him like the sunlight spilling into the bedroom.

He fell back asleep with the comforting warmth of his daughter against his chest and the brush of his wife’s lips against his cheek as she whispered how much she loved him.

***

He woke a second time to kisses from his wife, the sound of Rowan’s laughter dancing through the room.

He cracked one sleepy eye open to peer at the scene before him. Of Rowan propped up on her elbow, one hand cupping his cheek while she pressed kisses to his face and his neck. Aurora was still curled against his chest, but she was grinning up at him, her small hands now balled in the sheets.

“Good morning,” Rowan said, running a hand through his hair.

He smiled at them, his two favourite people, and his heart felt full. “Good morning.”

“Do you know what today is?” Rowan asked, her eyes shining, her voice teasing as she spoke.

But before Gavin could respond, Aurora chimed in, waving her hands as she beamed up at him. “It’s daddy day!”

Rowan snorted, leaning down to kiss the top of Aurora’s head. “It’s daddy day, you’re right! And do you know what happens on daddy day?”

Aurora hummed for a minute before jabbing a chubby finger at Gavim. “We celebrate my daddy!”

“And how do you think we should do that?”

“Breakfast!” She squealed, rolling onto her back. “With breakfast!”

Gavin couldn’t stop smiling, his heart warm, his world painted in sunshine and glittering starlight, happiness brighter than any star as he basked in these two people that he adored.

“What do you think, babey?” Rowan asked, turning her bright eyes towards him. “Should we start with breakfast?”

He kissed both of Aurora’s cheeks, and then brushed his lips against Rowan’s, unable to contain his smile.

***

The day was warm, with a soft breeze that carried the sound of windchimes and birdsong. He could smell blooming flowers in the air, could hear the quiet buzz of the bees that bounced through the garden in their backyard. Stella barked at a stray squirrel, her tail wagging as she started running circles through the yard, pausing to sniff the grass or the gate before sprinting aimlessly again.

The windows were wide open, and they’d even decided to open the back door so Stella could come and go as she pleased. Normally Gavin and Rowan would have worried about Aurora wandering outside alone, although she couldn’t have gotten far with the fence and with Stella often trailing behind her as she toddled around. But still it wasn’t always ideal to have their toddler wandering around outside unsupervised.

But today Aurora was wholly focused on helping to make breakfast for Gavin. She helped to cut bananas and strawberries, and she put butter on toast, and she stirred pancake batter while Rowan held onto the bowl, doing her best to catch any spills.

And when she was done all of her cooking and she’d supervised the cooking of the pancakes with a serious expression that Rowan teased was exactly how Gavin looked when he was focused, she waddled over to where Gavin sat with a big plate balanced in her hands.

“For you!” She announced, holding the plate up while Rowan stood behind her, trying to make sure it didn’t fall from Aurora’s tiny hands.

But Gavin hadn’t even taken a bite before Aurora was crawling into his lap and taking his fork from him.

“I’m going to help you daddy,” she said, nearly knocking an entire pancake from his plate in an effort to spear one piece of banana. “It’s daddy day after all.”

He couldn’t help snorting as she pointed the fork at him.

“Eat daddy! You need your breakfast!”

Beside him, Rowan laughed. “Aurora, why don’t you let daddy eat his breakfast. You need to eat yours too.”

She pouted, still waving the fork in the air. “But I wanna help daddy!”

Gavin rested his chin on top of Aurora’s head, peering at Rowan imploringly. “I don’t mind, and it means I get to cuddle with my little princess!”

He pressed kisses to Aurora’s cheeks until she squealed with laughter, her eyes screwing closed as she wiggled in his arms.

Rowan held up her hands. “Alright alright, it’s your day after all.”

Gavin hummed, taking a bite of pancake as Aurora jabbed the fork at him again. “Maybe you’re jealous though? Because you’d like some cuddles too?”

Rowan’s brow arched, but her cheeks turned crimson as he teased her. “That’s an awfully bold claim.”

“Aurora,” Gavin said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I think mommy wants some cuddles from me too.”

Aurora giggled, covering her mouth. “Daddy, you need all the cuddles today!”

He nodded. “You make a good point, and mommy gives good cuddles.”

Aurora nodded furiously. “The best!”

Rowan smiled, poking at her food. “Well maybe after breakfast I would like some cuddles.”

Gavin grinned, wide and bright. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

***

There wasn’t really any better way for Gavin to spend his day, if he was being honest. Aurora refusing to let him go, wanting to hug him as much as she could, Rowan pressing kisses to his cheeks and wrapping her arms around his waist for quick, tight hugs whenever she passed him in the house.

They all went outside to play with Stella, throwing around a little plastic basketball until Aurora fell back in the grass and whined, saying she felt too hot. But they’d barely been inside for a minute before she was clinging to him again, saying she had to give him more hugs.

She even tried dragging his guitar out, saying she wanted to play a song. But after smacking her hands against the strings a few times, Gavin scooped her into his lap, balancing the guitar on his knees.

“Do you want to play a song with me?” He asked, and Aurora wiggled with excitement as he’d tried his best to take her through the chords of simple, beginner songs.

They snacked on cut up peaches and strawberries and watermelon, all fruits Aurora had insisted on choosing at the grocery store a few days ago, and that she’d insisted on helping to cut, shouting at Gavin when he tried to help.

“No daddy! You can’t help today!” She said, waving her hands at him, her fingers stained with strawberry juice.

Rowan nodded, taking Aurora’s hands and gently wiping the fruit juice away. “We’re taking care of you today, babey, remember?”

He’d pouted at that, wanting to help with even the smallest of things. But any brief melancholy he’d felt was quickly washed away as both Rowan and Aurora had curled up with him, and he’d felt himself enveloped in more warmth and love than he’d ever thought he would experience in his life.

They watched movies until late, past Aurora’s bedtime, plastic bowls of ramen from one of Gavin’s favourite shops spread out before them. And when the food was done and the movies were over, night draped across the sky like a glittering veil, they’d all gone out into the backyard, and Gavin had gotten to lay on the cool grass and stare up into the shining universe, at the shining silver light of the stars, with the brightest lights of his life on either side of him.

The day ended far too soon, with Aurora falling asleep in the crook of his arm as they’d made wishes on shooting stars that had streaked past so quickly they’d almost missed them.

Gavin wrapped her in his sweater, cradling her in his arms as he’d carried her back inside, Rowan’s cheek pressed against his arm as she’d peeked down at their sleeping Aurora, cooing softly and reaching out to squeeze one of Aurora’s hands.

“She loves you so much,” Rowan murmured, kissing Aurora’s cheek as they laid her in her bed, tucking the blankets around her.

“I love her,” Gavin breathed, for a moment unable to take his eyes from the little sleeping form as she rolled onto her side, curling into a little ball, the way Rowan did when she fell asleep.

She was perfect, his perfect, beautiful little daughter.

He looked up then, into Rowan’s eyes, and the love in his heart grew brighter, shining like the shooting stars in the sky. “And I love you.”

Rowan ducked her head, but he could see the flush on her cheeks, the smile playing at her lips. “I love you so much, babey.”

He took her hand and drew her from the room, closing the door softly behind them, not wanting to disturb Aurora’s sleep. And then he swept Rowan into his arms, holding her tight as she gasped, her arms encircling his neck.

“Gavin!” Her tone sounded reproachful, but she was smiling wider now, and after a moment she nestled her head against his shoulder, her eyes falling shut.

“It’s late,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “We should go to bed too.”

She hummed her agreement, letting him carry her through the house as he shut all the lights off, before carrying her back to their room.

“You know,” he said, setting her down on the bed before going in search of their pajamas. “I do think you owe me one more gift today.”

Rowan cocked her head to the side, bemusement in her gaze as she watched him. “What do you mean? Did you not like the movies and the food?”

He shook his head. “No, I loved those. But I wanted something else, something you promised me earlier.”

Rowan hummed, her brow arched as she turned to change. “And what’s that?”

“I wanted cuddles from my wife.”

Her eyes were warm when they met his again, her features softened by the moonlight that washed across their room. “I can give you all the cuddles you want.”

He crawled back into bed, back into the cocoon he’d awoken in, the blankets soft and warm. Rowan crawled in after him, smiling as she held her arms out to him.

He felt so warm he thought he would melt as he snuggled against her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he rested his head against her chest.

“I love you,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine.”

He was smiling as he fell asleep, warm and loved and safe in her arms. It was a tangle of feelings that he’d once thought he would never feel, and yet here he was now, wrapped in her embrace, her heart beating a steady rhythm against his cheek, lulling him to sleep.

And although, as he fell asleep, he knew that tomorrow would not technically be a special day, that there would be no reason to be excited for it, he found himself looking forward to it all the same.

Because tomorrow meant waking up with warm sunlight staining the curtains as it spilled into the room. It meant waking up to kisses from Rowan, from Aurora trying to burrow into their blankets. It meant another day spent with the most important people in his life, the people that he loved, the ones who loved him unconditionally.

So he smiled as he fell asleep, safe in Rowan’s arms as she played with his hair, already looking forward to tomorrow.

[masterbenson]

Its in the morning that I need your love Birdsong - Rosie Lowe