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katcadecascade · 4 years

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New Qrow fic WIP

It’s a bit of a character study but mostly RWBY/JNOR/more doing shenanigans.

The only problem, I can’t think of a name for this fic.

Anyway here, Chapter One/Round One: Throwing Down the Gauntlet

Blake will admit, she’s a sucker for romance.

How could she not be?

In a world where morbid emotions attract monsters, where injustice breeds from hatred of culture and birth traits, something as simple and layered as love is beautiful and strong and can power people through their darkest moments but also bring them to their knees.

She should say she just learned this all from her books but honestly in the last year or so, Blake has certainly lived through some crazy shit.

But let’s not get into that right now.

Sure her tale begins with her people’s suffering, her parent’s pacifism, a poor boy’s spite, and her own frightful shadows. She could go write to great lengths on how the journey gained her treasured friends, bonds forged through fire, and how it lead them to the coldest place of the north.

That’s where this game begins.

Yes a game indeed or maybe a war by the sharpness in the Valkyrie’s eyes or the telltale song notes of glyphs charging up.

It began with a series of events that piqued the interest of the eight (and later on more) charges under the wings of Qrow Branwen.

The first thing they noticed took place on their very first night in Atlas, where one General James Ironwood hugged the scythe master. The two thought they were alone but the nieces back tracked to get their uncle.

While they made the wise decision to leave the men alone, the girls immediately blurted their findings to the rest of their friends.

Their reactions were of surprise and cooing but it only trigger their radars to look out for more of these moments. None of them could recall ever seeing Qrow be so vulnerable with anyone else. Granted they didn’t spend the most time with him but even Yang and Ruby were caught off guard.

This was their uncle so ultimately this was under Yang’s and Ruby’s discretion or wonderment.

That didn’t stop the rest of them from being curious to see what else will happen between Qrow and Ironwood.

Small and subtle were the ways of the General, lingering eyes or the quietly inviting the huntsman into his office. Ruby’s sniper skills were used for observations like these. Her skills in stealth could’ve been better to muffle her cooing.

Things were going steady, slowly seeing the man underneath the steel. Maybe then the kids could decide to trust him with the truth from the Lamp. Not that Qrow’s compromised in anyway, but seeing this spark between them certainly helps the kids trust the general a little bit more.

James Ironwood appeared to be able to offer up his heart to Qrow.

So imagine their surprise when Clover Ebi entered the game.

There’s that word again: game.

It’s a little immature to describe it as so but Blake couldn’t think of any other word.

Blake and the others keep noticing certain events focused on Qrow, usually engaged by one man or the other.

Small side glances, a brushing of hands, coffee treats and many more that can be listed as intimate or thoughtful or purposeful. Although, Clover’s flirting are rather forward. Most importantly, Qrow’s happiness is the growing outcome.

And pray tell what game is this? Where two men woo a common thread that is slowly becoming enamored by these actions?

A courting game.

Hands slam down on the kitchen table. “Everyone, place your bets!”

“We are so not betting on this!” Weiss crossed her arms, perfectly poised and unmoved.

“Come on,” Nora whined, “There’s nothing else to do here.”

“Aside from doing our jobs and brainstorming how to save the world?”

“All I’m saying is that we need a break from all the seriousness and focus on Team Dad.”

On the couches, only Blake noticed the resident nieces share a glance. They don’t argue against their uncle’s title, instead they quirk their lips in a knowing look.

(Blake later understands their silent exchanges when a game changer occurs)

“Nora’s right,” Jaune agreed, “and I usually never want to say that.”

“Hey!”

“You’re the one who broke the coffee machine by trying to fix it,” Oscar pointed out. Behind him said device has a despairing groan.

Ruby follows up, “And then got the rest of us blaming each other for it.”

“Enough, enough,” the redhead shouted, “We’re getting off track!”

“We are not conspiring on Qrow’s love life!” Weiss proclaimed.

“She’s right,” Ren said with the composure of a sage, highlighted as he sipped his tea, “There’s no need to.”

Yang raised an eyebrow, both curious and surprised, “What do you mean?”

Everyone waited for their resident ninja to finish another long drink, for dramatic effect Blake must note.

Then simply enough, he answers, “Qrow would fall for the General.”

That was clearly not the answer Nora wanted.

She’s a sputtering mess while next to her, Weiss holds her head high.

“Thank you, someone else sees my point,” the ex-heiress nods.

Sharpness in Jaune’s voice catches her off guard, “Your point? You think Ironwood’s gonna get with Qrow?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Nora butts in, a strange tension in her shoulders, “Sure yeah but look at Clover!”

Her team leader listed off, “They’re mission partners but also hanging around each off in their downtime.”

“Yes,” Nora nods enthusiastically, “Just like Jaune with Marrow.”

“H-hey wait-“

“You haven’t seen Qrow with James alone though.”

Again, everyone is quiet as they stare down their resident cute wizard boy.

Oscar squirms a little under the attention, backtracking, “Oh, um, I only mean um I would see them right before James tutors me? And Qrow would sometimes be there too and,” he sighs heavily, “honestly it’s like my aunt’s romance novels.”

Blake immediately guesses the classic tropes of longing, quiet vulnerability, trust and intimacy. She doesn’t voice her thoughts. No need since Weiss happily regales her own findings.

“Winter says that she’s never seen Ironwood so relaxed before. Sure she’s a little teed that it was Qrow’s doing but the results are still good.”

“But what about Qrow’s ‘results’ when he’s with Clover,” Nora argued.

Ruby does her little head shake, musing over her thoughts, “He is a lot calmer or relaxed.”

Nora cackles at the fuming Weiss, affronted at her girlfriend not on her side.

That’s rectified as Ruby taps her chin, scholarly and not noticing Weiss’ heat, “Although he is a lot more teasing around Ironwood.”

“See!” Weiss grins as if this is victory. Her current rival is unbothered.

“He’s the same with Clover,” Nora counters and honestly Weiss can’t possibly argue with that.

Too many times have the kids witness Qrow becoming a bumbling, blushing mess when Clover compliments him. There’s so much bi/gay tension there to even think of denying.

“Qrow must be taking his time then,” Blake voiced. “With both Ironwood and Clover, maybe he’s a bit overwhelmed.”

Next to her, Yang sighs, “Knowing him, he might not realize what’s going on unless someone tells him.”

“Or he’s aware of all of this happening and dismisses it as something that can’t actually happen to him,” Jaune painfully accurately describes as what is probably going on.

This type of denial of happiness, this consuming pit of numbness and pain, people who loved and lost and felt guilty for even loving and losing need to be told they’re deserving of love.

Maybe Jaune’s speaking for himself or maybe Blake’s interpreting for her own experiences.

But one shared glance with the knight confirms her thoughts. Qrow must have talked to him too about this type of grief.

The blame and the guilt and the responsibility of losing someone, be it person of goodness or of spite, it’s a heavy feeling that Blake, Jaune, Qrow and possible the others too have carry.

So while the huntsman tries to assure the two kids of their grievances, there hasn’t been an opportune time to ask how he’s coping. As the young adults under his care, they all worry about him, especially his nieces. At first he was the mysteriously cool uncle as proclaimed by Ruby and later on the secretive and paranoid uncle explained by Yang but in their shared time together, each kid gotten to know the crow by their own definitions.

It’s like that little thing Blake does, associate a word with a person.

She told Sun about her girls, Earnest, Defiance, and Strength.

Then there’s team JNPR, Tenacity for Jaune, Zestful for Nora, Ascendancy for Pyrrha and Acuity for Ren. It took some time but eventually Oscar became Perseverance.

As for Qrow, well, she jokingly thought Mother Hen but now she’s satisfied to call him Memory.

It’s mostly because of all the Muninn parallels but there is just so much history behind Qrow Branwen. Carried in the creak in his bones, dips in his scars, the grey of his feathery hair, the surprise in his laughs, like he’s relearning how it is to walk with ghosts and angels.

So yeah, Blake sometimes worries about him and then she and Weiss worry about Ruby and Yang getting worried too.

But maybe there’s no need to.

From the soft gazes he sets on James and Clover, maybe they’re the ones making sure their Team Dad/Uncle is doing okay.

Now if only Qrow’s love life can move to the next stage.

Their conversation during breakfast was more than enough as food for thought, analyzing everything they know of Qrow Branwen and how he interacts with two men in particular.

Early mission meetings are obviously designated Clover Flirting Time as they get to their seats.

“I wouldn’t mind having another match with you,” Clover said casually as if it didn’t take weeks of near begging for a one on one fight.

“Really? You enjoy falling on your ass that much, lucky charm?”

“Sure do,” Clover slides close, letting his hip press against Qrow’s. “But I like seeing you down on the mats just as much.”

That flirt was meant to be whispered, low and teasing and it definitely sends a blush down Qrow’s neck. It’s a real shame that Blake has an extra set of ears to hear this.

Then from the sight of Marrow almost choking on his coffee, he probably heard it too.

The dog faunus and the cat faunus exchange silent misery.

“Ooh, another match?” Nora, being her glorious self, pops right at Qrow’s side and the two men nearly jump. “Hah, that’s a bit boring by now.”

Clover raises a brow, slightly wary and challenged, “Boring?”

Nora nods her head as Ren-like as possible, “Yep, I mean, training doesn’t have to be combat does it?”

Qrow blinks at her, and so does her teammates because hey, this is Nora complaining about combat training. “Nora, you got something else in mind?”

This encouragement, openness and trust, Blake wouldn’t have noticed it before but Qrow has been putting a lot more faith in them since Argus. It’s really nice to have an adult take them seriously. Then again this is Qrow. He encouraged Yang and Jaune to start a prank war.

Their resident lightning in a bottle had a million volt grin, “Parkour and freerunning! We all saw the Ops jumping around in the mines and that time Qrow and Winter destroyed the campus.”

“Miss Valkyrie,” hissed the ice queen, “I advise you to refrain from telling that anecdote.”

“What, feeling sore since you lost?” Qrow grinned.

“I did not lose, Qrow,” she glared, “it was clearly a stalemate.”

“Wow, now I’m really curious,” Clover said.

“I’ll tell you all about it then,” Qrow winked, “like how I clearly would’ve won.”

Next to Nora, Jaune added in, “There was a recording of it going around campus, like from the moment Qrow bushed back his bangs to the end where the General stopped the fight.”

To Blake, it’s a little odd to see Jaune gush about this since majority of them choose to ignore the usually mushiness of Clover Flirting Time. But then she notice the way Jaune subtly elbowed his teammate.

“Brush your bangs?” Clover’s focus on that little detail had him reach over to do said action, “Huh, you don’t look that intimidating like this.”

Like this, as they all observe, is Qrow blushing madly at the close contact and gentle action, the way Clover’s fingers glided through his dark hair like water.

Oblivious to the two men, everyone else in the room saw Jaune and Nora fist bump each other. They don’t even hide their smugness. No they toss it over at Weiss and Ren.

Ren is slightly alarmed.

Their resident ice princess on the other hand is silently fuming.

Like Blake mentioned before, this is a game.

It may be petty, invasive, and a tad immoral.

And yet it has begun.

So yeah, I need fic title suggestions and ideas

pls

#rwby fic #blake belladonna #qrow branwen #fair game #ironqrow #my fic

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ahmuseme · 4 years

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Check out @scvcnt‘s, my amazing writing partner, take on the Everness children here!

Name: William

General Appearance: Of the three Everness children, William takes after their mother the most. Inheriting her dark hair, fair complexion, and lithe figure, the only and very subtle feature that he has that distinguishes him as his father’s son is his jawline, but it is not nearly as sharp. At first glance, William seems to have inherited his eyes from his mother, but, upon closer inspection, they’re actually much closer to his grandfather’s, showing just how potent the Rockrimmon’s genes are in him. However, it could be argued that he inherited his demeanor and presence from his father. While William does not have his father’s impressive physique, he does have his lordly and intelligent aura about him.

Personality: William is much more sensitive than he would like to admit though he makes an impressive show of appearing calm and stoic now that he’s older. When his father left to fight in the war, he took it upon himself to be the man of the Everness household and grew up much faster than he should have. He’s very critical about himself and has been since he was a boy. With a strong sense of duty and tradition that was strongly advocated by his grandmother, William sometimes feels that he never got the chance to grow up into the man that he was meant to be and that frustration occasionally erupts in angry, childish, and violent tantrums. Perhaps the most stubborn of his siblings, he likes to be in control and right and strives to maintain the appearance that everything in his life is and hates whenever something threatens that image.

Special Talents: When he was younger, William was a skilled fencer in all three disciplines, thanks to the Marquis, Mathieu de Poséy, but now that he spends more time pursuing politics, it’s become more of a hobby than exceptional skill.

Which parent they like better: His father - Truthfully, William was never as close to his parents as his siblings were because he felt that he had to become an adult at an early age. He had many male role models during his father’s absence and did not necessarily grow up to be the man his father wanted him. This fact upsets him more than he would like to admit because all he ever wanted was to be like his father and have his approval.

Which sibling they like better: Samuel - William always wanted a little brother and when he finally got one, he was ecstatic. He loved being a big brother though he did become a little jealous of how free-spirited and carefree Sam got to be as an adult.

Personal Headcanon: William signed over the Rockrimmon assets to his sister and brother for when they came of age because he wanted to ensure their futures as they would not have any when he became a lord.

Face Claim: Ben Whishaw

Name: Kenna

General Appearance: While William inherited most of his genes from the Rockrimmon line, Kenna inherited most of hers from the Everness’s. She has a striking resemblance to her father with her firey-red hair, blue eyes, and jawline, but her body and presence are more like her mother’s. Regal and lady-like, she has a small and lithe figure with a pale complexion and emits a quietly demure and well-mannered aura.

Personality: Outwardly, Kenna appears to be everything that a well brought up lady should be. Emitting a quietly demure and well-mannered temperament, several have made the crucial mistake of assuming that she is also meek like the other women of her caste. Kenna is more prone to passive-aggression than outright aggression like her brothers and is much more dangerous with her words than she could ever be with a blade. Capable of being manipulative and hugely influential, it could be argued that she is the smartest of the Everness children, but she lacks confidence in herself. Kenna has always felt that she would never be good enough for just about anything and has a great fear of commitment and abandonment that stemmed from her youth. She is not quick to trust or love anyone, but when she does, she is truly a loyal and committed ally.

Special Talents: She can dance just as beautifully and gracefully as her mother - if not better. With her demure demeanor, it is easy to dismiss her, but when she dances, it’s impossible to. Her secret personality and sensuality burst through her quiet facade to highlight the beautiful and vibrant soul hidden behind layers of insecurities.

Which parent they like better: Her father - Without a doubt, Kenna had and will always be her father’s little girl. There is no one in the world that she prefers over him, which has made it extremely difficult for her to find someone to be with because admittedly, he is also the reason for her fear of abandonment.

Which sibling they like better: Samuel - There was a time in her life when she hated Samuel with all of her heart, but it was childish hate, He had just appeared in her life out of the blue and took her parents’ attention from her; however, as they grew up, she came to care for him as he never judged or criticized her like William did. Samuel became the person she went to for advice and a shoulder to cry on - he was her best friend.

Personal Headcanon: After their mother died, Kenna and her older brother, William, had an irreversible falling-out when one of his friends took advantage of her vulnerability and sadness and attempted to assault her. She was afraid and unwilling to tell their father because he was mourning the loss of his wife. When William refused to believe her and accused her of loose behavior, she felt betrayed by him and thought that he would never defend and protect her like she would and had ever since they were children and refused to speak to him ever again.

Face Claim: Rachel Hurd-Wood

Name: Samuel

General Appearance: When Samuel was born, there was no doubt in his lineage, but now that he’s older, there is definitely no mistaking that he is his father’s son. Seeming to have opted out of inheriting a single gene from his mother, he is an exact copy of Gwaine with some of the same mannerisms to the point that he is often mistaken to be his father - or at least when he was younger. The only thing that distinguishes him from his father is that he carries himself differently. Samuel is much more approachable and personable than the rest of his family, thanks to his friendly personality and acts like he hasn’t a single worry in the world. He is constantly teeming and fidgeting with energy, which made him an absolute nightmare for his tutors.

Personality: Samuel is the most extroverted and friendliest of the Everness children, but he is also the biggest troublemaker. He has an incredible zest for life and is continuously in search of an adventure. Incredibly friendly and personable, the court thought that he would be an easy target to manipulate and control, but Samuel is much smarter than he lets on. Playing dumb until the very last moment, he is as manipulative as his sister when the situation calls for it but would rather live a peaceful existence. Like his siblings, or rather his entire family, he is prone to fits of stubbornness and anger, but he doesn’t hold on to it like they do. Samuel doesn’t believe in holding grudges and would rather spend his time being happy and worry-free, which leads to him avoiding responsibility like the plague.

Special Talents: Samuel loves anything and everything that involves the water and is very skilled at sailing.

Which parent they like better: His mother - Samuel is unashamed to admit that he was a mama’s boy. He loved his mother more than anything else in the world and inherited her dreams of not being chained to the courts and seeing the world.

Which sibling they like better: Neither, he loves them both equally despite their flaws and serves to be the bridge that keeps them connected to each other whether they like it or not.

Personal Headcanon: Samuel joined the King’s Navy for a few years and did very well while he served; however, it was too regimented for him so he left and became a traveling merchant with the Rockrimmon ships signed over to him for the Everness Empire.

Face Claim: Eddie Redmayne

#c: faris #insp: faris #scvcnt

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years

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I See You: Part Five

A/N: As you get ready to hear what Billy has to say, both of you go through some of the last conversations you had. *this one contains a prompt from @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s “10 Marvelous Things I Hate About You” challenge. Prompt is highlighted*

Warning: Language, violence, tiny bit of lemon zest.

Word Count: 3,920

Crimson leaves fluttered and fell from the sugar maples that lined your street, the sun shining through them like stained glass before they touched down on the cobbled sidewalk. The crisp September air made you shrug a little more deeply into the thick cable knit scarf that Lexi had given you for your birthday- along with a bottle of vodka that she’d helped you finish- but the below average chill did nothing to douse your spirits. You paused to lean down and tie the laces on your boots, adjusting your phone between your ear and shoulder so you could carry on your conversation without interruption.

“Can’t you send me somthin’ romantic next time? Why’s it always gotta be these deep, dark, melodramas?”

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see as you finished with your laces and straightened up, taking your phone back into your gloved hand. “Because, Russo, you asked me to help make you seem cultured, not cliche. If all you want is some lukewarm, watered down garbage, just quote Romeo and Juliet at her. Chicks dig that bullshit.” You could picture him biting his lower lip to keep from laughing, that devilish look in those coal black eyes that you’d seen the first night you’d met. “But if you really want to impress a woman, you’ll show her your mind, Billy. So I’m sending you stuff that will make you use it.” You grinned preemptively, running your tongue along your top lip as you prepared to deliver your next line. “You’re the one actually choosing to read what I send you, ya know?”

There was a part of you, although you were perfectly content to keep Billy as a friend, that secretly hoped that he was reading all the books you sent him because it was you that he was trying to impress. You knew there were plenty of fly by night floozies and paper doll cut outs to occupy his empty hours, and that didn’t bother you. You knew he didn’t feel anything for them, knew he was only trying to keep an acceptable amount of booty calls on rotation by keeping them interested enough to put up with the extreme lack of commitment that Billy put into any of his “romantic” endeavors. But you’d be completely lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t at least thought about what it might be like to have something more than friendship with him. You reached the end of the block and stopped with a small group of pedestrians waiting for the signal to change.

“Yeah, yeah, you got me there,” you heard him expel a burst of air through his nose in a snarky, one-of-a-kind Billy Russo laugh. “Just sayin’, it’d be nice if you sent me somthin’ less...I dunno, serious?”

You mentally ran through the last few books you’d sent him- Wuthering Heights, Frankenstein, and the one sitting on your kitchen counter, boxed up and ready to send to his next deployment in Kandahar, The Picture of Dorian Gray. Shit, he’s got a point. “What have you got in mind then? Any of these girls you see recommend any great works of fiction?” The light changed and the group of people around you started to move forward into the crosswalk on Charles Street. “You want me to send you one of those trashy romance novels with Fabio on the cover?” An older woman a few feet to your left caught your question and made a face, and you looked down to see a book sticking up out of her bag. swirling violet lettering reading Ravaged and the unmistakable luscious hair of the model you’d just mentioned in jest were just visible and it was clear from her scowl that she didn’t appreciate you deeming her literature of choice as “trashy”. You mouthed a “sorry” and shrugged at the disgruntled woman and choked back the giggles that were desperate to burst forth.

“The last one... Ashley?”

You pulled the phone away from your ear and rolled your whole head with a dramatic groan.Of course he doesn’t remember her name. Her bra size though, bet he remembers that. “Allison, Russo, her name is Allison. C’mon write ‘em down if they’re so hard to keep track of. Or, and stay with me here, ‘cause this one’s a doozy...you could actually get serious with one of them. Cut down the list of names you have to know.” You know my name, Billy.

“Right. Allison.” He ignored everything else you’d said and you wondered if he ignored Frank when he gave the same advice. “She suggested Hemingway, said he was-”

“Romantic? Hemingway? He was an abusive, alcoholic misogynist who squandered half of his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers. Sounds like Allison knows about as much as you regarding the classics. You two are made for each other.”

Again he ignored the relationship advice. “Hey, Picasso probably had some good leftovers.” You heard a zipper being pulled closed and the soft thud of his fist hitting the full duffle like a punching bag. He’s all packed up, I probably only have a few more minutes…

“Billy,” your tone shifted as you came to another corner, turning right down Mt. Vernon Street, lined with beautiful red brick buildings, bright shiny front doors, and carriage style lanterns. It wasn’t as busy; there weren’t as many shops and cafes as there were on Charles Street, so there wasn’t as much foot traffic. You took advantage of the less crowded sidewalk to stop and lean against a concrete stair rail to finish your conversation. “You know you deserve more than leftovers…” Over the years you’d lost count of how many times you’d tried to convince him that he deserved much more than what he allowed himself to have.

There was a pause on the other end of the line and you dared to hope that he was thinking about what you’d said- that maybe the ten thousandth time would be the charm. But before that hope could swell too much, he poked a hole in it with his response. “I dunno, cold pizza makes for a pretty good breakfast.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to keep your mind from shuffling through millions of moments before it reached the one and only time that Billy Russo had spent the night at your apartment, and the pizza that you’d shared both for dinner and as your first meal the following morning. You recalled walking out into your living room to see him sprawled on your couch, one long leg hanging down onto the floor, one muscled arm bent and thrown across his face. The soft pewter blanket that you’d given him was tucked up beneath his chin, his dark hair spread out over the white couch cushions. You remembered how peaceful he looked then, and how your heart had turned to cement and dropped through your ribs, wishing that you could flop down onto the couch with him. You’d wished that you could climb beneath the blanket and waste the morning in his arms, showing him what it felt like to be with someone who cared for him. You opened your eyes and you were back on Mt. Vernon Street, a maple leaf caught in your scarf. Plucking it out you realized that a good 6 seconds of silence had passed, and Billy was repeating your name.

“You still there? This fuckin’ service…” his voice sounded distant as he pulled the phone away from his ear to check if he’d lost the connection. “Keeps dropping out, you there?”

“Yeah, sorry, Billy, I’m here.” You cleared your throat. “Breakfast pizza. Right.” The leaf fell from your fingers as you tried to recover quickly. “Just saying, pancakes and eggs and bacon makes for a pretty good breakfast, too, Russo.” You deserve more than stale pizza crust.

“You’n Frankie, I swear you’re tryin’ to turn me into some soft, domestic type.”

The laugh that slipped out wasn’t forced or faked at all, and you were glad that the awkward moment was over. “That what you think of Frank? He’s a softie?”

Then it was Billy’s turn to chuckle. “Hell no, not Frankie. Toughest son of a bitch I ever met.”

“Besides yourself,” you stood up straight, taking a step away from the railing that you’d been leaning against, and resumed walking.

“Besides myself, that’s right.” He repeated, and you could hear the grin you imagined he was wearing. You heard rustling on his end and knew he was shouldering his overstuffed duffle, and then another few seconds of silence. You knew he was heading out the door, knew he only had a minute or two more before he had to leave or else he’d be late, which was completely unacceptable. But you also knew that he hated ending the conversation, so you knew you would have to do it for him.

“You all set over there, Marine? Headin’ out?” You knew you had no right to feel the tightness in your chest that you felt, knew that you were already missing him, missing his voice more than you should, but there really wasn’t much you could do.

“Yeah, just about,” he’d answered quickly , and you knew he was grateful.

“Alright then, Russo, you take care of yourself, you tough son of a bitch.” Stay safe, Billy. Stay safe, come home.

He laughed. “I will, always do.” You heard his front door open, heard the jingling of keys in his hand as he pulled it closed to lock it up. “Lookin’ forward to your next terrible book recommendation.”

“Ha. You know, one of these days I am gonna send you a flouncy Fabio novel, and then we’ll see who’s laughing.” You suddenly felt the chill that had been in the air the whole time, as though talking to Billy had kept it at bay, and now that the conversation was ending, it was back. You sniffed, rubbing your nose with one hand. “I’ll talk to you soon, Billy.” You had a rule, when either of you left on a deployment, and that was that you didn’t end a call with “goodbye”, both of you hating the way it sounded. When you were both stateside and as safe as any civilian was, “goodbye” wasn’t a problem. It was a different story when gunfire and bombs were involved, when there were rockets digging craters and IEDs buried in the sand, or submarines gliding below the deep blue depths, threatening your aircraft carrier with silent missiles.

“Talk to you soon,” he answered, and you knew that as soon as he could, as soon as he was settled and had a free moment and an internet connection, he’d fire off an email to you. He hung up then, because if he didn’t the call would never end, and you knew it, too. You took a deep breath of autumn air, and pocketed your phone. I’ll miss you, Billy Russo.

That had been one of the last real conversations you’d had with Billy… with the Billy that you knew. The last deployment had changed him, had been harder, different from the rest. His emails were short and lacked the sarcasm you’d come to expect. The few times he’d been able to call you he’d sounded deflated, exhausted, and not just physically. As you led him to the park in silence under the city lights, you wondered how those changes had affected the man you’d come to love. You’re still in there, Billy, I know you are...

. . . . . . .

Billy had spent his entire shift shuffling through every conversation he’d ever had with you; every laugh he’d caught through the phone line, every picture you’d sent while at sea, every single time he’d thought about you since he’d deleted your number. He’d smirked at the security camera on his way to the time clock, knowing that Frank had access to it, making sure he showed up when and where he was supposed to. But where normally he’d spend the night mopping bathrooms and banks, seething about what Frank and Lieberman had reduced him to, tonight he’d been consumed with you. What to tell you, what not to say, what to ask and not to ask… wondering if it could possibly ever go back to the way it was, if you could ever possibly forgive him… if he even deserved your forgiveness. A vivid memory took hold as he dumped the mop bucket and finished up at his final location for the evening.

Billy’s breath was hot as he lowered his mouth to one thigh. His lips and tongue and teeth trailed towards his destination as his hands found the soft flesh of the ass that had been driving him crazy all night. A few strands of hair fell out of place as he looked up, dark eyes on fire, to enjoy the view before him. His vision was blurred from the bourbon, but his hearing worked just fine. He grinned as he flicked his tongue against the slick heat at the apex of the legs his head was lost between, the soft moan of his name urging him on. “Billy… oh, fuck…”

His eyes rolled back as that bimbo’s voice was replaced with yours in his mind, and he increased the pressure he applied with his tongue. Ashley? Allison? Fuck it doesn’t matter… she had her hands in his hair, holding him in place, and he groaned, imagining your fingers gripping and tugging instead. He slipped his tongue into her, dreaming of what you would taste like, and the thought alone sent him for a spin. Finally, completely spellbound by his secret desires, he turned to kiss her thigh, but it was your name that fell from his lips. And it wasn’t the first time, either.

She stiffened, instantly pushing away from him and sat up, a look of pure disgust etched into her carefully painted on face. “Are you fucking kidding me, Billy? Fucking again?” She pulled her legs back from over his shoulders and stood from the bed, scoffing as she tossed her long blonde hair and shook her head. She bent down to retrieve her discarded clothing and started getting dressed.

Billy just sat up, a complete lack of guilt, embarrassment or whatever Allison thought he should be feeling clear in his eyes. He shrugged and shifted so that he was leaning against the headboard, reaching for the phone on his bedside table. I could call her… tell her I’m back…

He’d called you as soon as he’d had his boots back on U.S. soil, but he hadn’t told you that he was back. “Gettin’ out of this hell hole in two weeks,” he’d said while he drank a coffee in his kitchen. “Can’t wait to get the fuck out.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lied through his teeth. Fuck, this is hard. He’d always been able to bend the truth to suit his needs before, but not with you, and he felt his stomach turn.

“Two more weeks? That’s not bad, Marine. You and Frank taking care of each other?” He heard the tingling sound of a spoon clattering into the sink and guessed that you’d just made yourself a coffee, too.

Billy set his mug down and rested his forehead in his hand, raking it back through his hair. His mind immediately went to that night, in that tent, after that mission had lead them straight into that ambush resulting in the greatest loss to their unit that they’d ever suffered.

“Did you complete the mission?” Rawlins barked the question repeatedly, even while his men bled and suffered- the ones that had made it back, anyway. His clean white shirt and well rested mind didn’t belong in that tent. Covered in blood, some of it his own but most of it Frank’s, Billy sat in silence. Wringing his hands, a dull hum drowning out the noise, he considered things he never thought he would- he considered a transfer to a different unit, considered leaving the military completely. This shit… its all wrong… this isn’t right, not what I signed up for… The abrupt sound of a metal folding chair crashing to the ground as Frank, still bleeding from a gunshot wound, launched himself at Rawlins out of rage as the entitled asshole asked his question again broke him from his thoughts. Aw shit, Frankie. In two strides Billy crossed to where Frank had just landed a brutal punch that punctured the man’s eye socket. He’s gonna fuckin kill ‘em. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and hauled him into the next room, tossing him through the door.

“You’re gonna fuckin protect him, Bill?!” Frank’s voice was uneven, his eyes flashing. “Sends us into a goddamn ambush when we told him, I told him and you’re takin’ his side?!”

“I’m protecting you Frank. This is never gonna be on him. We’re here to take the fall, Frankie, not Rawlins… and I’m done. I’m out… and you should think about it too.” He left Frank gaping like a big mouth bass, needing to be anywhere but in the room with the words he’d just said aloud.

“Yeah,” he answered your question. “Yeah Frankie’n me got each other’s backs, like always.”

He heard you swallow on the other end of the line before you spoke. “Hey, you okay Billy? Something you’re not telling me?” Shit, she’s too good at this… at knowin me…

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s just…” he rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. “Things are different this time… just… lookin forward to gettin out, ya know?”

“Okay, well… just keep your head up, Russo. Two more weeks until beers and burgers.” His chest tightened as you tried to reassure him, tried to give him some tiny spark to get him through. I don’t deserve her… she’s … this is why I have to do this, cut her out… she’s too good for my bullshit… “Hey what’d you think of the book I sent?”

“Think it was perfect for me,” he answered, staring out his window at the gray New York City morning.

You’d laughed, and his chest tightened another notch. “It’s about a man who sold his soul to the devil, Billy. You may be dark and mysterious but you’re not the devil.”

Least I got to hear that laugh again. “If you insist… but I did like it… I highlighted a line for you. You’re always highlighting things for me so I did one this time…” the last time.

Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic. That was the line that he’d selected, the line he hoped would help you understand; understand that he had made his choice, and that he couldn’t take you with him.

He shook his head, enraged shouts pulling him away from the memory of your last phone call, just a few days before. Allison was still berating him for being a womanizer and an asshole, for using her for sex- I use you because you make it too easy. Yeah, I’m an asshole, everyone knows that, what’s your goddamn point?- but he didn’t care, just scrolled through his phone until he found the photo he’d been looking for, the one from the night that he met you.

The fact that your roommate was perched in his lap barely registered when he looked at it. He didn’t even see Frank anymore. All he saw was the frozen laughter on your face, the happiness captured that night that felt worlds away now, even as he sat in the same city that the photo had been taken in. He used two fingers to zoom in until only you were visible in the frame of the picture. I really fucked up… He never told you, but that picture kept him going on some of the worst days; reminded him that there was at least one person who gave a shit about him, one person that believed in him...one person that saw him for who he really was and kept him in their life anyway, asking for nothing but the same in return. Allison was shrieking his name, trying to get him to pay attention to her as she made a show of gearing up to storm out. Billy zoomed back out on the photo before he pressed delete, erasing your number while he was at it so he couldn’t make any more mistakes with you.

“...knew you were fucked up, Billy, but Jesus. You want to fuck her that bad, go the fuck ahead, see if I care. Then she can feel like shit, too when you forget her name... ”

Rage bubbled up at the thought that he could ever forget you, at the idea that she meant anything to him, anything close to what you meant. He stood, tossing his phone on the bed and advanced on Allison, fists curled at his sides. She took a step back, bottom lip quivering but eyes locked on his. “Don’t you fucking talk about her. You don’t get to say anything about her, you hear me?” His nostrils flared and his eyes flashed. “You mean nothing to me, sweetheart. You’re nothin’ but a nice ass in a tight dress and that’s all you’ll ever be, and ya know somethin’ else? I don’t think this,” he gestured between her and himself demonstratively with his pointer finger, “is gonna work out anymore. Get the fuck out.”

She opened her mouth to unleash more insults, but Billy just gave her a look that shut her up once and for all. “I said get the fuck outta my place.” He growled, and she turned, walking quickly towards the front door, slamming it behind her. Good. She’s gone. She’d never be you, and he knew that. None of the women he fucked would ever be you. I don’t deserve her… she deserves better than me...better than the bullshit I’m involved in… It sliced at his heart like shards of glass, cutting you from his life so finally, but you’d been the only one who mattered, and he wouldn’t allow you to become a target. Attachments are weaknesses…

He reached your apartment at 9:30 on the dot, and you’d been waiting like you said you would be. “Let’s take a walk,” you’d suggested, leading him down the block with the use of a long cane that you held out in front of you. His heart hammered and his mouth ran drier with every single silent step, as he prepared himself to tell you everything- everything he’d done, every choice he’d made, everything done to him and why he had to let you go. The curved wrought iron fence surrounding the small patch of green that New Yorkers called “parks” came into view, and you walked through it to a bench near a fountain. You took a seat and released a shaky sigh, and it hit him how hard you were trying to keep it together. You took your dark glasses off, folding them and setting them in your lap before turning your face up to his. Your eyes, once bright blue and always shining, we’re now a frosty, icy color, some light scarring around the edges of the right one, and his fingers twitched, aching to reach out to you. “Take a seat, Billy,” you softly requested, patting the bench beside you. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

@something-tofightfor @my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @agent-bossypants @zaffrenotes @songforhema @thesumofmychoices @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @ethereal-heavcns @ymariejp

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#i see you #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #the punisher #the punisher alternate ending #billy russo fanfiction

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techjobwall · 6 years

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Waiting to hear back from your interview? Here’s what to do - Germany Startup Jobs

http://www.germanystartupjobs.com/what-to-do-after-interview/

Waiting to hear back from your interview? Here’s what to do

I totally understand how we all feel waiting to hear after an interview, especially when it is your first time. Well, whether you are new to the corporate world or an old player; you have to keep a little patience at this stage of life. It is, however, a very stultifying task, as our condition becomes like that small child who wants his favorite chocolate but has to go thru more in the process to get it.

So, you too have applied for a job in a company and went thru all the preliminary interview process in which you had to spend a whole day waiting. The suffering does not finish at that stage only but doubles in the course of waiting for the response. Did you give your best or you did you stumble in front of the interviewer? These questions make you go utterly fanatical.

The common advice given at this point of time is to hold your guns and backfire when it is really required; otherwise your efforts will go in vain. It is frustrating at times, but a little impatient attitude might make you lose a golden opportunity that might knock at your door. Therefore, here in this post, you will find few basic guidelines to follow while waiting for a response from the evaluator or the HR manager of the company.

Have control over your zest and anxiety

Eagerness and desperation go hand in hand at this point in time. You might not be able to control it as you wait eagerly for the results to get your desired job. But this doesn’t happen in the general scenario as the responder has to go thru various steps to clear your line and fix your second or final round of selection.

The recruiter might be waiting for the hiring team’s response, or they might have lots of candidates to sieve thru or they did not find you to be suitable for the position. A week or two postponements are accepted at times, but you should keep mailing them via a thank you note, or sharing the experience you had in their campus via a brief note ending it with the motive to get the feedback. One to two emails in fifteen days is not as bad as you think. And also remember that your email must not state that you are desperate for the job. Otherwise, you will be ignored in the first case only.

Proper follow-up for positive response

If you have gone thru the company’s first stage of the interview and learned a lot from it, then don’t forget to send a Thank You note mentioning all that you have acquired and how the process helped you to get more knowledge about the stuff. You will definitely become the apple of the eye for the meantime. This way, you will be able to continue the conversation for a long period or till you don’t get the response.

The Thank You note will definitely strike the reader’s mind, and he will be happy to know how the interviewee feels under that stressful situation and how does he benefit from it. The experience shared via this note highlights the applicant and thus focus on reconsidering him.

Don’t take the culpability on your head

If you don’t get a response after trying and waiting for a long time don’t think yourself to be a felon. The policies of the company might be different than you thought of it. There might be sudden changes applied by the higher management to the selection process. The extra delay might be from the side of the examiner and not the hiring manager. So, don’t get disheartened as this will give a negative feedback on company’s part and will be a lesson for you for the lifetime.

One size doesn’t fit all

It is a universal truth that you cannot always have what you desire for. If you think that you have waited enough for the job and still not getting the positive or delayed response from the examiner, then it is better to start your search again. You just need to follow up with the right kind of gesture, passion, and attentiveness. If you have done it all in the precise manner and still undesirable retort, then that job is not for you and is not your cup of tea.

Somehow one-size-fits-all approach doesn’t work here. So, don’t put all incites in one basket and keep exploring. It is always better to look for something you are made for.

Go with flow and don’t underestimate yourself

I know a few people who get depressed and start undervaluing themselves when they don’t hear from the recruiters. It is not that you are not eligible for the job, but their few constraints or other obligations don’t allow them to end the process in a hurry. They might have some sudden product launches or specific targets to meet before finalising their worthy candidates. So, you either need to be persistent for the same or go with the flow and opt for other available options.

In the meantime, you keep exploring the firm and the position you have applied for. If you find something dubious about the organisation and do not like their post-interview selection process, then better leave it and go for the next available opportunity.

Final roundabout

If you think yourself to be a top-tier applicant for the position you have applied for, then take your ambition to the next level by keeping a right approach, building a robust network, and doing your part most appropriately. Though waiting long post-interview is tough, but when you know your capabilities, it’s time to accelerate in the world full of opportunities. Do your best and leave the rest to the hiring firm. Wait only for that time being when you are sure about the affirmative response; otherwise

If you think that there is more which you can do in that excruciating post-interview period, then please share your thoughts in the comment section below.

#Know Your Worth

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