#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel * | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flightofaqrow · 2 years

Text

friday

qrow x Bartholomew Oobleck ( @erudite-rebel )

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“oh, look. finally everyone gets to find out what it’s like to be me, supposedly. for a day.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He looms a bit over top of Qrow, looking down at him and very carefully holding his coffee. “I have found compelling evidence in ancient texts that being snuggled by someone you love counteracts some of the effects of the dreaded thirteenth.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

says nothing but grumps slightly less intensely, trying not to even pay attention to the coffee cup, lest the attention of misfortune may follow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Coffee cup set aside, he sits down in his lap. “You know, you’re cute when you make that face.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

option one: he keeps grumping and maybe Barty does more of this.

option two: he gives in to the offered happiness and Barty smiles but stops? also he looks like a sap.

he is a sap.

qrow doesn’t like to admit it though.

actual answer: you are always wrong because it’s your life.

he sighs and puts his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, “well, i’ve always been a willin’ test subject for your theories before. might ‘s well try this one out.”

…qrow can feel the lights flickering down the hallway.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He leans in and presses a small kiss to Qrow’s lips, then lets his forehead rest against his.

“I know today is awful for you. Anything I can do to help, I’d like to… even if it’s just a small distraction.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

arms embrace even higher, eyes lifting, too, to meet the other’s.

the kiss leaves him a little lighter headed and lips pull from their pucker into a wicked grin. consider his fire lit.

“mmh. maybe ‘steada hanging around mopin’ about me possibly bein’ a pest t’someone, …we should go cause problems on purpose.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He can’t help but laugh, as ever adoring the glint of mischief in vermilion eyes. It sounds like old times, and he’s completely here for it. “That sounds like a plan. Got a victim in mind, or should we keep an eye out?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

and qrow can’t help but nuzzle that bouncing neck before gears start to turn, “there��s always somethin’ shady going down in the right parts of Vale. i say it’s time to shake up summa the shake downs.”

pair of birds taking a dive at lesser rodents in the streets.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Ooh, legal punch ups. I like it. Shall I leave Antiquity at home?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“you serious? she’s the best pot stirrer around.”

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* i don't really know = timeline undetermined *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *

0 notes

flightofaqrow · 2 years

Text

rude

qrow x Bartholomew Oobleck ( @erudite-rebel ) [tw: suggestive]

qrow texts Barty a pic of his bare torso, slightly obfuscated from the waist down by the pond somewhere in vale he’s taking a nice little soak in.

[ sms to qrow ] well that’s not very nice. you know i’m in class right now don’t you?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow texts Barty a pic of his bare torso, slightly obfuscated from the waist down by the pond somewhere in vale he’s taking a nice little naked soak in.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Barty has a pardon for some scroll use in class, chiefly on quieter work days between lectures. It’s only because sometimes he needs to answer his own and would rather not look like a total hippocrite.

When it buzzes he pulls it out, expecting Port to continue their argument on subterannean Grimm, and instead see’s it’s Qrow. He can’t help but smile, opening the attachment-

And suddenly going quite still, as his cheeks heat up.

He blinks and then hastily glances around at his students. Everyone has their heads down over their papers, a few are sleeping. No matter.

[ sms to qrow ] well that’s not very nice. you know i’m in class right now don’t you?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

his scroll buzzes against the ground even sooner than qrow expects. he reaches a lazy arm over grass to pick it up and hold it up over the water leaning back against the earthen edge.

tempting misfortune to allow technology to short circuit the same way he tempts his boyfriend. but in both cases all his birdbrain can say right now is fuck it.

he grins at the message on the screen, growing all the more Cheshire while plunking out a reply. two small words, daring further conversation by stating smug intent.

always braver in open air.

[ txt: Barty ] i know

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Barty’s quick to lift the scroll again. He ought to be working. He should ignore Qrow and focus on what he needs to be doing, and respond to him after class like a responsible adult.

He won’t.

He raises an eyebrow at the text before typing back.

[ sms to qrow ] ah so you’re deliberately rude then. i see.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

there’s lots of things Barty should do in life. and if he followed every single one of them he’d never be with someone like qrow.

maybe that’s why it floats so nicely to qrow’s head to remind him. bring out the rebel in him. like they’re still two adolescent boys.

but with very adult needs. needs that know no boundaries like responsibility.

qrow chuckles light at such a weak attempt at chiding, half-imagining the angry vibration of the phone like sassing wings flitting in his face, and the water ripples around the rhythmic shake of his abdomen.

[ txt: Barty ] rude? i’ll show you rude. gimme a minute.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Oh boy.

He bites his lip for a split second before stopping, trying not to give any sort of tell to his class at large, and his face goes blank. No need to televise what’s going on in his head.

Still, he doesn’t want Qrow to stop, even if it will possibly get him in trouble.

[ sms to qrow ] you know you are stirring a lancer nest.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow might be up to something.

might be making more ripples and knocking loose silt, getting dirty even in fresh water. but there’s no evidence given yet to reveal anything at all.

just more snide commentary and anticipation. why else do this?

nothing easy in qrow’s life, or anyone who signs up to share it with him.

[ txt: Barty ] you say that like a lancer nest in my lap /isn’t/ something that would’ve already happened in my life.

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* i gave you my life = past *#* save that for when you're older = suggestive *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *#they're hornballs your honor

0 notes

flightofaqrow · 2 years

Text

preening

qrow x Bartholomew Oobleck ( @erudite-rebel )

Some things aren’t able to be ignored. Like seeing Qrow now, his hair an oily mess, looking so much like a bird who drowned in an oil slick. Barty had suspected that Qrow had begun growing something like feathers some time ago, and seeing it now made his nose wrinkle.

“You know, you need to preen every now and again, right?”

qrow notices. sometimes. how the shift between bird and man never felt quite complete either way anymore. the wind hit different, the water beaded different - if it beaded at all. he tries to ignore it with another swig of booze just like everything else he’s uncertain or too certain about.

“Barty, what areya talkin’ about?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Bart doesn’t mention much, in regards to Qrow’s personal grooming. Some folks just like to be a little more wild than everyone else, or so he tells himself. He tries to pretend it hasn’t been a thing for ages, since Raven left. That this isn’t something he needs to worry so hard about.

But he does worry. He worries constantly. He misses him.

It’s not fair that he can’t really help, or that he lets Qrow flit in and out of his life like a bird migrating the seasons. So he just deals with it, swallows things down. He’s got so much to do himself, like grad school. Juggling multiple degrees. He hopes he’s not making the wrong decision, either, to wait until it’s a better time to try again. If they try again, properly.

Some things aren’t able to be ignored, though. Like seeing Qrow now, his hair an oily mess, looking so much like a bird who drowned in an oil slick. He’d suspected that Qrow had begun growing something like feathers some time ago, and seeing it now made his nose wrinkle. The man needed help. That couldn’t be comfortable.

“You know, you need to preen every now and again, right?” he asked, getting into Qrow’s personal space with little thought so he could look better at the problem. “Regular shampoo doesn’t really work well either… and you’ll get mites.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow knows too much and sees too much and spends the rest of his time trying to forget. self care is a luxury meant for people trying to make themselves presentable enough to get close to others, and qrow already loses on both counts, so why bother. he has too much on his shoulders already to worry what clothes adorn them or how he appears to others.

he lives in the shadows now. he doesn’t have to be presentable to protect.

but damn, he’s not a fan of feeling two pounds heavier in his head or so itchy and inconvenienced. he notices. sometimes. how the shift between bird and man never felt quite complete either way anymore. the wind hit different, the water beaded different - if it beaded at all.

but it’s weird and it would give him away and he tries to ignore it with another swig of booze just like everything else he’s uncertain or too certain about.

“Barty, what areya talkin’ about?” he groans, a miserable mess, and annoyed. he may push the other away in tone but the tiniest part of him silently crying out for help, for affection, can’t bring himself to do it with hands. Barty is aware of just enough of qrow’s secrets to be dangerous to his solitude tonight, “look, I know i’m not about’ta win any beauty pageants these days, but preening? mites? c’mon now.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bart knows the tone when he hears it. More often than not lately, it works. He’ll take his leave quietly with a heavy weight in his chest, understanding when he’s not wanted. It was a sensation that took him a little while to get used to again, after several years of everything being good. But it hurt, all the same.

Despite Qrow’s desires for him to go away that night, he can’t just walk away from this. He’ll take the insults if it gets that far.

Qrow should just count himself lucky, whether he’d believe in it or not, that Bart was swinging by to pick up the Queen from Tai’s, and that he had all of his travel things already on him.

“You essentially have feathers now, Qrow,” he said wearily. “Ozpin’s magic… gave you a trait. Like mine.”

He’d been dying to discuss it since he first noticed it emerging. No one else seemed to bring it up, but Bart had been in knots over the implications, and he was scared to bring it up to Ozpin. Somehow, magic had made Qrow at least partially into a faunus.

He gently parted strands of hair until he found the gland he suspected was the problem on the center of his occipital lobe.

“Well, you’re a mess. I’ve got some special dry shampoo we can brush through it and we can work on cleaning you up. If you want to feel less like an itchy mess, you’ll listen.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

his head is burdened and his heart is broken and he fuels his body with the fire of liquor, and it hurts. it hurts to see Barty stop by and see him like this, to have the delicate sweep of fingers he also knows too well meticulously combing over his sensitized scalp, raising in a breakout of painful bumps in the back and dry and flaky in the front, combining into one big inescapable misery. he hardly has any room to argue when a wince contorts his face as purposeful ministrations find the very spot to confirm their theory.

dammit.

one more thing to worry about. one less thing he can just drink away. of course freedom and magic took a toll, of course the one blessing he’d received in his whole life still came with a lick of Misfortune. of course turning into a bird bled into earning something of a faunus trait. didn’t all of those tales of the origin of the species go something like that - retellings of the ways magic and humanity might meet?

“great,” he sighs, drawn out, weary, and rolls his eyes, “just. great.”

he idly and uselessly wonders if Raven dealt with anything similar, reaching up to card through black bangs and recheck, just to be sure. it looks like, feels like, spreads apart like the hair he’s always had on all counts, but the way it behaves? the shape and the bounce and the way it moves? yeah, he’s gotta say, Barty’s right; he’s reminded of when he used to adoringly play with the man’s feathers. right proper plumage, huh? which also meant there must be a way to keep them feeling clean and looking pretty, like that vibrant iridescent green of his.

preening, just like he used to get jokingly accused of back at beacon, except literally. gods, what has his life come to.

qrow collapses forward onto the table like a petulant child, falling out from under Barty’s hands, and clutching his own together at the back of his head to bury it beneath his arms, to pull away from touch and hide from those memories which burn his chest harsher than the whiskey and stir desires he doesn’t deserve to act on.

give him a break. just a minute.

this round his body shuts the other man out, while his words do not. “fine,” he mutters into the table in rough resignation, then tilts his chin to be heard better, “…show me what t’do, Doc.”

as if humor would help either of them feel better.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Great. Just. Great.

The words cause an ache. Of course, he hadn’t really expected Qrow to be excited. It was new and strange, and went against the body he identified with. It was to be expected that this was the next side of worrisome. All the same, there’s no speculation excitement. There’s resentment.

Qrow is like him - more than, even, considering he can lift to the skies on black wings - and he’s upset by it.

Nothing rises up in upset. He just sighs, watches him collapse forward, and wonders if Qrow’s going to write this off. He hides, head against the table, hands over the back of his oily head. He puts up a wall that seems small but is so much larger than words.

Before he chooses to leave, Qrow’s voice raises again. Soft, somewhat resentful. But asking him close.

Doc.

He’s not a doctor yet. He will be, but he isn’t. What’s more, the word feels just next to impersonal. Once upon a time it was Barty. Maybe Oob. It wasn’t strangers standing in a mutual friend’s home. Barty wanted to cry, the joke entirely lost on him, but he doesn’t give into any brittleness of voice. He’s got the voice of a man practiced in speaking to strangers, straight to business as he opens his bag.

Dry shampoo won’t fix the worst of it. Qrow needs more showers, the right formula of products to clear up the acne and the dryness both. But it was a start and he could advise him on the rest.

“When you’re on the road, use this. It’s a powder that absorbs oils, then you brush it out. Fairly easy to find at most drug stores.” He holds a can out where Qrow can see it without craning his neck before he pops the cap off the aerosol. “No water needed. With this much damage you might need a few treatments and some proper soap to clear up the scalp problems. We’re just going to try and get rid of the build up, then encourage oil production and brush it through proper.”

Without much preamble, he lifts the can. “Close your eyes. I’ll need to use quite a bit.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he botched it. qrow can tell in the way Barty speaks next - now that tone’s impersonal.

Doc means he believes in him, knows he’ll get there, already sees him with that much respect. it fell flat, like most of qrow’s attempts at playing cool. he should know better when he looks and feels like a trash bin, that he can spew nothing but rubbish.

isn’t it what he deserves? for pushing away and pulling back. isn’t it why it stopped working between them? they can’t communicate properly and separate lives separate that skill even further.

and qrow doesn’t put enough effort in. he’d almost started selfishly thinking that one on one training in something so intimate might lead to… but he’s an idiot; best to keep his distance, and back to the point, he already botched it.

he sighs another deep sigh of disappointment, at himself, though with it heaving out as he peers over and squints at the ‘dry shampoo,’ it probably just makes him sound bored already.

he doesn’t need soap, he needs another round of drink. that’ll make his scalp tingle a lot more pleasantly.

“…got it,” qrow at least listens, since Barty takes the time to help his poor soul. there had to be ways to complete all tasks at once. he could be resourceful if he could just take care of this enough to think straight again.

he tucks his head back into his arms, hands under his forehead and out of the way, the position less rueful and more weary this time, closing his eyes as instructed and not caring in the least if this stuff got on his clothes.

he takes mental notes, with what space is left on that thin paper, as he apparently has to do this on his own next time...

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* hey don't get mad cause i'm right = headcanon *#this is important #* i gave you my life = past *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *

0 notes

flightofaqrow · 2 years

Text

vytal dance

qrow x Bartholomew Oobleck ( @erudite-rebel ) [incomplete but lbr it was just an excuse to describe some outfits and it got that far]

They were only supposed to be going together to the Vytal Dance as a joke. That was all. Not-Quite-Stag. They’d get up to no good and hang on the fringes and tease and enjoy themselves.

But it didn’t feel like a joke. And it felt like it took forever before someone opened the door.

qrow breathes a sigh of relief when he opens the door and sees Barty dressed up but down a level much as he. qrow had nothing on Raven’s dress, but he didn’t take this quite as seriously as she did with… everything.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There is no small amount of nervousness that accompanies him as he knocks quietly at the dormitory door. There were parts of his wardrobe he couldn’t abandon - his boots, his rings, his bracelets - but he’d traded skinny jeans for dress pants, a torn t-shirt for a button down, the collar open, and a vest normally adorned with buttons and patches neat with a dark brocade that looked green at one angle, and blue at another, like his hair.

They were only supposed to be going together to the Vytal Dance as a joke. That was all. Not-Quite-Stag. They’d get up to no good and hang on the fringes and tease and enjoy themselves.

But it didn’t feel like a joke. And it felt like it took forever before someone opened the door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Summer tried to make him wear a standard tux.

but qrow feels like day after day in the beacon uniform is enough conformity, thanks. even Raven stood up for him, and she never could deny two stubborn pairs of red eyes at once. at least they’d agreed to go to the dance. she had no leverage.

and he breathes a sigh of relief when he opens the door and sees Barty dressed up but down a level much as he - black dress slacks and a medium gray open-collared shirt peeking out below and above a double breasted jacket with tailcoats, boasting a similar black-on-black brocade of opalescent, feathery spirals when the light hit just right. and his cape. of course, he kept his necklace and rings and red cape.

qrow had nothing on Raven’s dress, but he didn’t take this quite as seriously as she did with… everything.

“hey, Barty,” after the initial wave of comfort hit, he leans an arm into the doorframe and gives the young man an entirely conspicuous once over, “y’look good.”

the outfit he’d chosen brought attention to so many of his more attractive features… alright, maybe there’s something to this being fancied up thing. even if it’s only to get right into a little trouble.

“…all set t’go?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He didn’t mean to blush, but he did. Sapphire eyes widened as he took in Qrow’s outfit, as his mind cranked out a few possible adjectives. Suave. Dashing. He couldn’t decide, and had to resist the stupidly wild urge to jerk his hand out to shake his hand, without the faintest clue where that had come from.

He wet his lips and ducked his head. “You look good too,” he said, trying not to let his voice crack or do anything humiliating, before he took an automatic step back and held out his arm for Qrow to take.

That was how it was done, right? Because this did not feel like a joke any longer.

“I am, yes… and you look better than good. You look. Amazing.” He laughed quietly, then glanced out of the corner of his eyes at him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ah, hmmmm. finally qrow gets to see the way Barty’s face must have looked when he first crawled beneath fabric and past the line of friendship, and qrow can only grin, glad that some high class didn’t suddenly turn his date into someone high and mighty.

Barty being so afraid of mistakes set qrow at ease should he, metaphorically or literally, fall on his own face.

he takes that arm, linking their elbows together the way he would at one of the tribe’s fire circles, except only for two people. he’s pretty sure that’s how he’s seen it done around here. he has no idea what it means.

he waits until Barty’s beautiful blues meet his own eyes again, then throws him a quick wink in acceptance of the praise, “sounds like we’re all set then.”

a free hand slides into a pocket as they start down the hall towards the gym. Raven and Tai would be soon to follow, and Summer was already early, having signed up to be a greeter, of course.

qrow chuckles to himself, trying to discern if the weight pulled by his arm didn’t feel like it came with anything extra than a body, “tell me y’didn’t bring any books with you.”

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* i gave you my life = past *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *

0 notes

flightofaqrow · 2 years

Text

nuisance

bird!qrow + Bartholomew Oobleck ( @erudite-rebel )

Barty tried to ignore him. He did. He had a class to teach, and it did not involve boyfriends making themselves into pests and ensuring Barty could not escalate or do much for the fact he didn’t need to look like an utter looney talking to a bird.

classes were boring, and even if qrow remembers every moment Barty made learning more fun for him, he had since come up with his own ways to break the monotony.

this is for the kids, Barty.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Of course the plague also had serious socio-economic repercussions, which we’ll be discussing today -”

Tap-tap-tap.

Barty refused to look away from the monitor, ignoring the shape of a certain crow climbing up on his desk and making his way over, without a care in the world. He was teaching by zoom that day, thanks to bad weather cancelling attendance.

Tap-tap-tap.

He shot Qrow a warning glance once - he did not need to explain to his students that he either had a pet crow or one that let itself inside - before returning to the lecture.

“As we discussed, death caused a serious labour shortage. What land was workable, and not hit hard by drought or excess rain that coincided with that time period had fewer people to tend it, which lead to the ability to negotiate for higher wages, lest they leave for work elsewhere.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

can qrow help it when the flick of a cursor looks so much like a bug? can he help it when there’s a whole audience that looks bored out of their minds and he has lovely feathers to show off? can. he. help. it. when he came to visit only to find Barty with priorities other than him right now?

no. no he can’t. he ignores that angry look. what else was he supposed to do to entertain himself? he’d already drained his flask dry. which. might be part of the problem. no inhibitions here!

a black beak paps at the screen with curious pecks and beady red eyes peek down over the screen. not just talons now.

tap-tap-tap.

the crow lets out an attentive whistle the moment Barty stops speaking.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He tried to ignore him. He did. He had a class to teach, and it did not involve boyfriends making themselves into pests and ensuring Barty could not escalate or do much for the fact he didn’t need to look like an utter looney talking to a bird.

“Land owners, faced with the inability to exploit their people, began to start the hardest pushes towards the divide between faunus and human serfs.” He took a break to reach for his coffee, which was apparently what Qrow had been waiting for.

“Do you mind?” He asked, watching Qrow parade in front of the screen.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

classes were boring, and even if qrow remembers every moment Barty made learning more fun for him, he had since come up with his own ways to break the monotony.

this is for the kids, Barty.

he ruffles his feathers from top to bottom, full of indignance at the idea his presence created a nuisance. he is but a handsome bird in too great need of some screen and boyfriend time.

“yeah!” he answers in a warble. he does mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The class certainly seems to agree with Qrow, which is going to trash their attention for the next half an hour… which conveniently puts them at the end of their time period.

Barty rests his chin on his palm and reaches out with the other hand to ruffle and scratch Qrow right behind his crest. “I am trying to teach a class, you little hellion. Class, say hello… to Dusty.”

He’d heard the dusty old crow comment enough. It might as well stick.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

results.

…at a cost!

qrow just barely lets his eyes closed and chest puff in the bliss of good scritches, when Barty pulls out a new name for him; he doubles back with a step back and the snapping of his head forward to fluff his wings out slightly with two sharp, ragged squawks!

he can’t even argue with the sentiment, and that’s the worst part. it’s not his fault he’s still at the tail end of his moult! oh, Barty must be so proud of himself right now, and that grin is about all that makes bearing it worthwhile. the birdbrain still insists on making a show of it for the audacity of insulting his feathers.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He grins at the sudden squawk, fingers well removed in case Qrow decides he wanted to nip into the bargain. All of his students were laughing, and Barty suspected that he was going to have particular trouble from one student with a penchant for the colour orange, but whatever. Class was done now.

“Oh don’t be like that, Dusty. You’re still a pretty boy,” he said, offering his hand again. “And just imagine how much finer you’ll look when you’re done with molt.”

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* i gave you my life = past *#* unbirdened *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *

0 notes

flightofaqrow · 2 years

Text

Starling

qrow x Bartholomew Oobleck ( @erudite-rebel ) + Starling

common - qrow looks haggard, tired, like he’s seen things he never wants to see again. uncommon - he’s carrying something. other than a bottle. definitely, most assuredly, uncommon… actually a first - it’s a baby.

“um,” he finally grates out between baby’s breaths, “c’n we come in?”

Bart was dressed in one of Qrow’s t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants when he answered the door. He has no idea how long it took him to answer, but he was sure it was indecently so.

“Yes,” he said, stepping back so Qrow can come in with the little bundle, door open wide.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

common - qrow returns to vale over a week later than the date he said. uncommon - Barty never received a text with new promises or plans; just i’m okay somewhere in the middle of that gap with no further response.

common - qrow finally shows up, as the sun comes down. uncommon - he knocks on the door instead of the window. he’s human.

common - he looks haggard, tired, like he’s seen things he never wants to see again. needs to drink to forget and sleep it off, and then repeat until the images are less sharp. uncommon - he’s carrying something. other than a bottle. and he doesn’t even smell of alcohol. definitely, most assuredly, uncommon… actually a first - it’s a baby.

a little one, that starts crying at the creak of the door, and other than its upset little face with bangs of black hair poking out over scrunched up eyes, everything is swaddled and bundled up in qrow’s arms. he’s frazzled, and already slumping, ready to crash now that his body has attached to the idea of him being home, or at least as much of one as he still has, so he doesn’t even bother to try and soothe the child’s wails.

“um,” he finally grates out between baby’s breaths, “c’n we come in?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s been a long time since Bart was overly concerned when Qrow made it home late. Certainly he worried, especially with the vague text he received, but it was the nature of their work for Ozpin. This was just the way it was, and as stressful as it was - especially with Summer gone, and everything thrown into chaos - he managed to deal with it.

Everything in how he showed up, the knock at the door, the text, the weeks since he’d seen him last, was what made him worry.

Bart was dressed in one of Qrow’s t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants when he answered the door. His hair was fuzzy, shorter than usual at only a few inches long, growing out from when he’d cut back his mohawk and was encouraging it out from the fine buzz on the sides of his head. Sapphire eyes were filled with concern as he edged the door open -

- and a baby began to cry.

He has no idea how long it took him to answer, but he was sure it was indecently so.

“Yes,” he said, stepping back so Qrow can come in with the little bundle, door open wide.

A piece of him was scared. The little thing had soft black hair and pale skin, which put him in mind of the other man. For a brief, terrifying moment he wondered if Qrow had had a love child. They were young. It would have been within the last few years…

No. He refused to follow the train of thought. Explanations first, assumptions later.

He shut the door to his flat. The place was as haphazard as it ever was, but partially packed with boxes. Bart was going to be moving to Beacon, if he defended his thesis well enough.

“I… should I put some coffee on?” This had the makings of a long story. A very long story.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow takes in all of Barty the same way he does every time he comes home. from the new hair to the old clothes and how it makes his already foggy head spin, to the look on his face - one qrow’s very familiar with, one of someone questioning every moment they ever gave him, wondering if this was finally the time he crossed the line and made their lives a true curse, one he hadn’t seen on his boyfriend in a long, long time.

but he deserves it, he always does. his reputation precedes him more often than not. many of his choices back that concern up.

so he waits, and doesn’t argue and doesn’t defend himself, he just waits, while the baby cries and Barty processes. until the man acquiesces and qrow gets another night of being alright enough, and the door opens and he ambles in without talking about it.

there’s no place to put a baby. hell, most stuff for an adult is all packed up. he’s starting to think this was a bad idea.

except it wasn’t his idea. hardly even a choice, when it came down to it. maybe.

qrow sighs, and looks towards the kitchen, starting to fold away the blanket from around the child’s face, brushing its skin with his fingers, trying to soothe. the headache of extended sobriety is really starting to get to him, and the pitchy squawking isn’t helping.

“only if y’ve got some Kahlúa t’go with it,” he grumbles.

priorities. especially now that he has assistance.

he settles onto the couch and lies the baby down in the divot between his thighs, bouncing gently as he finishes unswaddling. feathers unfold with the fabric - brown tailfeathers with white edges which fan out through the back of a onesie and look so awkwardly short and wide compared to a humanoid torso and long legs.

but the little girl seems to feel better for not having them scrunched any longer, and held more freely in qrow’s hands as he lifts her up than surrounded by his arms. her crying fades to struggled gasps, then quiets, and big, deep blue eyes finally open in earnest.

blue eyes that had put him in mind of Barty, and had entranced him just as equally the moment they met his, and maybe that’s part of why he didn’t just dump her off at the nearest orphanage and move on.

he should have.

he’s a spy and a burden, and Barty’s still busy with his doctorate, and neither one of them is ready to settle.

this is crazy.

he’s crazy.

tiny lips blow a spit bubble, trying to breathe through all the secretions tears have summoned; it pops practically in qrow’s face, and he only lets out a single, sardonic snicker.

“this’s Starling,” he starts, tone quickly turning darker, “she’s got no one now… an’, uh… i know what that’s like… i couldn’t jus’…”

he stares at her, bewildered, then towards Barty, pained; clear in the bend of his brow how he hasn’t even asked a question but any of its potential answers is likely to break him in indescribable ways.

his head’s a mess and his heart is so sore.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’ll be back in a moment.” The mention of alcohol is taken without a flinch, but Barty smarts over it just a little as he flits to the kitchen. The kettle is already warm, at least, and he pulls down a press and fills it with grounds as it finishes heating again to boiling. A few things are pulled from the refrigerator - fruit, sliced cheese - and some crackers from the pantry. If Qrow is here, he needs to eat. Barty doubts he has much in the last few days.

He’s back just as the baby stops crying, and he watches her tail feathers fan and stretch. He can just imagine how good that feels, truthfully. It’s how he feels when he’s able to remove a hat after wearing it for too long.

He pauses for a long moment with the tray in his hands, considering her. The way Qrow handles her is practiced, careful, and… well. Cute is one way to put it, Barty thinks. He’s a natural with kids, whether the old bird wanted to admit it or not.

He swallows and comes forward. Two mugs go down, along with the press, and cream and sugar. There is also a single use bottle of whiskey leftover from some trip. He doesn’t want to feed his habit, but he knows that look in Qrow’s eyes - the tell tale signs of a hangover, and subtle withdrawal of an addiction he still hasn’t been able to adequately talk to him about. There was no point in causing an argument now.

Not when there is a baby here.

Starling.

“… she looks like she could be ours,” he joked quietly, sitting down next to them both as the coffee steeps in the press. “Where did you find her?” He refused to voice even his momentary worry that Qrow had had a child with someone else. She clearly wasn’t his, even with her dark hair. Some of his traits were dominant, and she did not have them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

and just like that, qrow’s left alone with the little one and his thoughts and his tired body again. his thumbs stroke under sausage arms, and his face softens further as Starling’s puffy cheeks relax back in place. he uses the swaddling cloth to wipe her mouth off, bouncing her on his knee.

easier to focus on her than his own wreck of a self right now.

until the tray and the lifeblood of its contents draws his attention. he looks to it, and after approving, back up to Barty.

“yeah, i… i thought so too.” the shared attributes were not a joke to him. an opportunity, possibly, a once in a lifetime one. a chance so profound he might even dare to consider it lucky were it not at this most sublimely inopportune time.

she could be theirs.

he still has no idea what’s come over him. besides those eyes. and that face. and those feathers. and, oh gods. it hurts so bad when he knows he shouldn’t wish. wishes never turned out well for him. he had written these things off so long ago. he already had Yang, and now Ruby, and his work. and his curse.

he shifts to lie the babygirl face down against his chest, one hand still holding her back while the other runs finger through thin, short tufts of hair as she turns to rest her cheek and stares with wide, searching eyes towards Barty.

“i was on m’way home, flyin’ without a care in th’ world,” he leans back into the couch, and collects himself, a huntsman’s resolve settling stoic across his face once more, slightly disconnected. the story of the past makes a good distraction of now, and future, “…until i heard a blood curdlin’ scream though th’ trees.”

a gentle heartbeat and the sheen of Barty’s own feathers seems to keep Starling at ease for now. he leans a bit forward, reaching, has no patience to wait for the coffee and goes right past the snacks for the whiskey. deft fingers palm the small bottle and manage to unscrew the cap and flick it away so he can down half the contents in one gulp. shame it doesn’t swallow down the memory at the same time. not yet.

“grimm, as usual. whole pack’a ursa chasin’ after a small merchant wagon. probl’y thought they had enough numbers t’save some coin and skip a proper escort. but got lost and ambushed on th’ backroads right near th’ border. …i didn’t make it in time,” there goes the other half, “three young faunus couples, far as i could tell. ripped open. gutted.”

should he be that graphic with Barty? probably not, but he speaks with a need to tell it every bit as gruesome as it happened.

“so, of course i took out every damn grimm in a mile radius. figured they deserved some vengeance. also figured they must’a had some important cargo t’decide t’stand an’ fight rather than run. circled back t’check out th’ wagon… an’ heard this one screamin’ her lungs out.”

he laughs, in spite of himself, holds her firmer as she wiggles around, “come t’think of it… i don’t even remember what else was in there anymore.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Barty paid no mind to the way Qrow drank, not this time. Sometimes watching him reach for the amber cure was something that caused a little dig in his heart, but right then Barty envied him and the ability to have something that could numb the emotions. Getting drunk seemed enviable after missions like that. He could picture the scene all too well, having seen others just like it, just as bad, in his own time, even as an academic.

He turns his eyes to her, imagining Qrow digging through the wreckage for her. A mercy that she hadn’t been targeted yet by the Ursa. Qrow must have flown in just in time.

He reached out, offering her a finger. She took it in one chubby fist, tugging it towards her mouth. He couldn’t help but smile despite the gravity of the situation. Those eyes were captivating, even at such a young age.

He hesitated for a moment. He knew Qrow wouldn’t want to hear the word luck bandied about, not for this, even if this girl was lucky a huntsman, no matter his semblance, had been close enough to hear.

“It was fate then,” he said quietly, “that you were so close.”

He looked up at Qrow, and reached another hand to stroke his cheek. His stubble was thick with his time on the road. Qrow needed time to rest from what he went through, and he needed a hand, even if Barty wasn’t much good with children himself. He’d figure it out. “I’m sorry you went through that alone. But we’ll figure it out together.”

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* your favorite fairy tale = au = event horizon *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *

0 notes

flightofaqrow · 2 years

Note

🌼 Would my muse prefer a big wedding or a small wedding?

sex+romance ** accepting

"does there have t'be a wedding?"

"ah, fine. fine. small. trust me. it's hard t'get a wedding off without a hitch on th' best of days! with Misfortune on th' invite list, y'really think a big wedding could happen for me, even if i wanted one? which i don't."

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* hey don't get mad cause i'm right = headcanon *#* hey i got a tip for ya = meme response *#he'd elope in a heartbeat

2 notes · View notes

flightofaqrow · 3 years

Note

*gestures at all of him* but really, one of my tiniest favourite details is how he won't capitalize his own name because he doesn't feel worthy. I love his playfulness alongside his anger, and I love how soft he is, how much he yearns, how much he loves

the deets

mmmmmmmmmmmm Oz, the only one who ever finally asked me about that. Yeah. He got issues. I still hope I get to change that one day.

One dumb angry birb with too many emotions. We love u too.

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* hey i got a tip for ya = meme response *#* behind closed doors = ooc *#waaaaaaaaaaah ty ;w;

2 notes · View notes

flightofaqrow · 3 years

Note

Ⓐ

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours ** accepting

ATTRACTIVENESS:

― attractive ― hot ― sexy ― beautiful ― gorgeous ― hot damn ― would tap that

repulsive ― hideous ― ugly ― not attractive ― unappealing ― not unattractive ― meh ― no preference ― ok ― mildly attractive ― nice looking ― cute ― adorable ― pleasant on the eyes ― good looking ― perfect ― godlike ― holy fuck there are no words

PERSONALITY:

― grating ― interesting ― engaging ― affectionate ― ambitious ― anxious ― impulsive ― intelligent ― awkward ― creative ― dependable ― unpredictable ― sympathetic ― badass

― irritating ― frustrating ― boring ― confusing at best ― unreasonable ― psychotic ― disturbing ― aggressive ― artistic ― bad tempered ― bossy ― charismatic ― unappealing ― courageous ― unreliable ― predictable ― devious ― dim ― extroverted ― introverted ― egotistical ― gregarious ― fabulous ― talkative ― up beat ― peaceful ― calming ― flexible

HOW LIKELY THEY WOULD BE TO HAVE SEX WITH THEM:

― fuck yes! ― as many times as possible ― we are already having sex ― wishing that could happen right now

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending ― fuck no! ― never ― no way ― not likely ― not sure ― indifferent ― i’m asexual ― maybe ― probably ― it depends ― fairly likely ― likely ― yeah sure ― yes ― would tap that ― hell yes

LEVEL OF FRIENDSHIP:

― would die kill for them - no friends he in the homo romo zone

never in a million years ― worst of enemies ― enemies ― rivals ― indifferent ― neutral ― acquaintance ― friendly toward each other ― casual friends ― friends ― good friends ― best friends ― fuck buddies ― bosom buddies ― practically the same person ― true friends ― my only friend

FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM:

― they seem alright ― they’re growing on me ― they’re genuine ― oh fuck they’re hot (distressed) ― they’re weird (skeptical)

i hate them so much ― i don’t like them ― i don’t trust them ― they annoy me ― i’m indifferent ― meh ― truce ― i think i like them ― i like them ― i’m not sure if i trust them ― i trust them ― they’re cool ― i think we’re going to get along ― i really like them ― i think i’m in love ― i love them

CURRENT IMPRESSION OF THEM:

― they’re weird (affectionate) ― i trust them ― they’re genuine ― oh fuck they’re hot (excited) ― i love them

i hate them so much ― i don’t like them ― i don’t trust them ― they annoy me ― i’m indifferent ― meh ― they seem alright ― they’re growing on me ― truce ― i think i like them ― i like them ― i’m not sure if i trust them ― they’re cool ― i think we’re going to get along ― i really like them ― i think i’m in love

HOW GOOD OF A KISSER:

― exciting ― fucking amazing

worst kisser ever ― terrible ― bad ― awkward ― just okay ― alright ― pretty good ― good ― makes me moan ― excellent ― oh god they’re good ― i dream about it ― absolute perfection ― we haven’t kissed

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* hey i got a tip for ya = meme response *#;w; <3

2 notes · View notes