#* caught between brains and heart we both suffer = qrow + james *

[flightofaqrow]

[ TUG ]:          sender grabs the receiver’s hair and pulls at it. ( because there's something tangled in it? )

hair ** always accepting

"hey...!" qrow barks, barely registering just who even stood behind him.

that's the most unpleasant way someone's tugged at his hair in a long time. probably since the last time he saw his nieces, except this was much stronger, all the way down to the scalp. with no warning!

"what's th' deal, pal?" he rubs his head and turns to his friend, rapport between them probably the only reason he didn't get a straight punch to the face. the spot stings sore and... stiff?

James looks at qrow like he's stupid.

a... hairclip? he can feel it in his fingers, one of those little springy claw contraptions, still buried in black strands. ...speaking of the girls.

now qrow's making stupid faces, trying to disentangle it, and trying to ignore James' grin. damn, that sucker's really in there.

"sometimes little girl tea time gets wild, y'know," he finally offers in explanation, without any real apology; he still struggles with an impossible task when he can't see what's going on up in that bird's nest, until his shoulders finally slump and crimson eyes cast up towards James, standing ever so steady and patient and smug, "...yeah, alright, guess I could use some help."

[flightofaqrow]

tag refresh, relationships ( ‘+’ is platonic, ‘x’ or ‘ship name’ is romantic/sexual, ‘branwen twins’ is face value lol )

[flightofaqrow]

Ⓐ

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

ATTRACTIVENESS:

― nice looking ― attractive ― hot damn

repulsive ― hideous ― ugly ― not attractive ― unappealing ― not unattractive ― meh ― no preference ― ok ― mildly attractive  ― cute ― adorable  ― pleasant on the eyes ― good looking ― hot ― sexy ― beautiful ― gorgeous  ― would tap that ― perfect ― godlike ― holy fuck there are no words

PERSONALITY:

― grating  ― frustrating ― boring ― ambitious ― anxious ― aggressive ― courageous ― intelligent ― sympathetic ― badass ― egotistical ― devious ― interesting ― unreasonable ― charismatic

― irritating  ― confusing at best ― awkward  ― psychotic ― disturbing  ― engaging ― affectionate   ― artistic ― bad tempered ― bossy ― appealing ― unappealing ― creative  ― dependable ― unreliable ― unpredictable ― predictable  ― dim ― extroverted ― introverted  ― gregarious ― fabulous ― impulsive  ― talkative ― up beat ― peaceful ― calming  ― flexible

HOW LIKELY THEY WOULD BE TO HAVE SEX WITH THEM.

― not likely ― indifferent ― it depends

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending ― fuck no! ― never ― no way  ― not sure  ― i’m asexual ― maybe ― probably  ― fairly likely ― likely ― yeah sure ― yes ― would tap that ― hell yes ― fuck yes! ― wishing that could happen right now ― as many times as possible ― we are already having sex

LEVEL OF FRIENDSHIP:

― rivals ― best friends ― true friends ― would die kill for them

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

FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM:

― meh ― i’m not sure if i trust them ― they’re growing on me ― i think we’re going to we could get along

i hate them so much ― i don’t like them ― i don’t trust them ― they annoy me ― they’re weird ― i’m indifferent  ― they seem alright  ― truce ― i think i like them ― i like them  ― i trust them ― they’re cool ― they’re genuine  ― i really like them ― i think i’m in love ― oh fuck they’re hot ― i love them

CURRENT IMPRESSION OF THEM:

prior to Vol 7:

― i really like them ― i love them (platonic) ― i trust them ― they annoy me (mostly affectionate)

Vol 7 into Vol 8:

― i’m not sure if i trust them ― they’re (acting) weird ― truce ... ― i don’t trust them > i don’t like them >  i hate them so much

 ― i’m indifferent ― meh ― they seem alright ― they’re growing on me  ― i think i like them  ― i like them   ― they’re cool ― they’re genuine ― i think we’re going to get along  ― i think i’m in love ― oh fuck they’re hot 

HOW GOOD OF A KISSER:

― we haven’t kissed ― pretty good (probably)

worst kisser ever ― terrible ― bad ― awkward ― just okay ― alright  ― good ― makes me moan ― excellent ― exciting ― oh god they’re good ― i dream about it ― fucking amazing ― absolute perfection 

[flightofaqrow]

Been a while since they just idly sat together. He won't kiss Qrow, but he sure will wrap one arm around him, pull him closer and gently ruffle his feathery hair. He will keep running hand through his hair for a while, little but tender gesture. Rest a bit, birdman, you deserve it.

wreck him ** accepting

maybe sparring lets the General get enough energy out to actually take a break for once. qrow’s not about to argue, even if it means sitting there closer than he’s usually comfortable with in human form. they are both tired, and getting older, and have worn the yolk of the state of the world on their shoulders in the brotherhood for so long. 

already, this pushes his limits like when he’d lean against a sturdy tree in the wrong place and ants would start climbing all over his skin.  already, this makes his withdrawal headache grow stronger with an overload of thinking and feeling and sensing at full speed. already it does, and then James grabs him, pulls him, gives him a noogie like qrow would to one of his nieces.

his face faults and grows pink, embarrassment coloring cheeks in part for being treated like a kid and in part for being shown that level of familiarity and affection. it wasn’t right. this is in no way is what right looks like. 

least of all from stoic, trigger-happy Ironwood. least of all when his fingers transition into touches more tender. 

this type of moment unheard of, unexperienced in qrow’s life, and he has no idea what James is after in evoking it. he goes rigid against him, like a cornered bird more than a nestled one, feather-hair ruffled, perturbed. 

qrow has no desire for more from this man, and has no idea what to do with less. but he is forced to learn, as it continues. exactly nothing more and nothing less happens, besides qrow sinking into the caresses, the vice around his heart not allowing him to breathe, making it hurt if it beats too hard or fast, even as his muscles and his hair calms down.

he stays. for some stupid reason, he stays, rolls his eyes with a pitiful sigh yet again and lets James continue, if that’s what he needs to do. if that’s what means they can sit here in peaceful silence and pretend like everything is okay for five minutes; pretend that bird-oiled gears can do anything to repair parts of a broken mechanical heart; pretend like the cold, fluorescent lighting of the academy and its might is really what will bring forth a brand new day through the darkness.

[flightofaqrow]

drunk call

qrow + James ( @caeloservare​ )

qrow listens, the concern of James’ voice and bend in his brow drawing him in. and with each word tumbling from liquor-laced lips, wine red eyes grow narrower, more skeptical.

why him? he just wanted to drink with a pal in peace. oh, right. that’s something the universe could never afford to give him.

“it’s… it’sa fairy tale, my man.”

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"Assuming a mostly healthy woman with quite fragile posture weights around 40kg, wouldn't glass shoes break under the princess while walking? Glass doesn't stretch unless it's too hot to touch, so wearing glass shoes must have been torture. Why was the prince attracted to a girl publicly torturing herself in front of likely entire noble class? Even assuming somehow shoes didn't break and she didn't cut herself with the shards. She danced there, Qrow! Why was she doing that? What's the point of this fairytale? Why is it so widely popular? ... Gods, this is sickening." James’ concern is very serious.

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qrow listens, the concern of James’ voice and bend in his brow drawing him in. and with each word tumbling from liquor-laced lips, wine red eyes grow narrower, more skeptical.

it’s kinda cute that the man would care about this hypothetical other person so much, in such… thorough detail, but. why this?

why him? he just wanted to drink with a pal in peace.

oh, right. that’s something the universe could never afford to give him.

“it’s… it’sa fairy tale, my man,”  qrow’s hand gestures in the air as if to say so what, “they tend ta be, yanno… exaggerated. and anyway, if y’ask me - female fashion doesn’t always make sense. …or the noble class fer that matter.”

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“Fair point, but why is it shown as romantic love story? Public torturing is passé even for noble snobs! It was for long before the Great War. Aren’t fairytales supposed to be educational? What’s the lesson here? It takes a masochist to please a sadist? Do everything you can to get attention even if it costs you your legs?”

If James had any insight into Qrow’s thoughts, he’d be a little surprised with how different they define peace. For him that was it - ability to drink himself stupid, however accidental it was, be vulnerable and be able to talk with someone, knowing that it won’t be number one issue all over tomorrow’s news. Another little secret, a moment shared with Qrow, with guard down, without regret nor doubt, knowing it was safe.

“Fairytales are awful. There’s not even fairies most of the time.” Clearly he shouldn’t, but he gladly takes a long sip from his glass. “I hope this one wasn’t Ozpin’s idea.”

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qrow’s concern turns to outright laughter, if at nothing but the indignant sound of James’ voice over faeries. he giggles, gleefully, as the fourth… fifth? more? round of liquor hits him harder. maybe a ranting man wasn’t so bad after all.

as long as the rants stayed this absurd. maybe it was better to worry about these little problems for awhile than the big ones that haunted his nights and nightmares.

he pats James on the shoulder, “no faeries?” he feigns offense, “we needt’a getcha some better stories then, pal.”

he also leaves out the fact that there was a faerie godmother in that one; maybe not all versions had her.

“I hope this one wasn’t Ozpin’s idea.”

“eh,” that line brings him slightly out of his reverie. he leans away again, one long leg crossing over the knee of the other, “nah, prob’ly Salem’s.” it was nice to be able to speak openly about these things with some people. to say her name as if she were a regular enemy, and not some big scary secret.

red eyes stare into his tumbler as he swirls amber liquid and ice around in the glass, “she likes’ta make th’ damsels sound all helpless ‘n sympathetic in ‘er stories. yet somehow they’re the center ‘f th’story an’ usu’ly get what they want by th’end. Ozpin’s are more th’type t’have th’ lesson.”

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Some kind of mixed emotions run through James’ face at mention of Salem. There’s mostly bitter anger, but also something else.

“She sucks.” He decides out loud. “She sucks. Just like her stupid stories. We need to put an end to this. Oz and his boring lectures are way better. Superior even. Still no fairies though.” He pouts, but his face eases as his focus leaves Salem again.

“There should be fairies in fairytales. It only makes sense!”

[flightofaqrow]

fight fight fight

qrow + James ( @caeloservare )

sometimes asking is all it takes.

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“Hey, want to spar?” Seems James has some time at hand and no classes are planned for training grounds. Maybe he’s a tad bit worried for a murder birb he haven’t heard from for a while. None of his business what he’s up to though.

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none of his business, but he makes it anyway. does he really care about qrow or just how the amity missions are going? just how he trains up these kids to fight in his own war like Oz did? because that’s all his life really is now, beyond getting sober on the side.

the headaches and the nausea fades, but the hurt in his heart only gets heavier, but at least it helps him realize he still has one.

and his joints still ache for a good fight, though. he grins.

“sure, i’ll kick your butt anytime, James. name the place. …we gonna do this with weapons or mano a mano?” he inquires, yet cracks his knuckles as if making a suggestion.

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General rolls eyes, but smiles warmly, a little relieved.

“You’re invited to try.” Seems Qrow wasn’t doing bad enough to worry about him openly, if he had enough steam for banter and small taunting. “Training grounds, right away, hand to hand and you pick the facility settings.”

He doesn’t really wait for Qrow, taking his coat off and walking towards the room. He should change into something comfier and easier to move in. Stiff shoulders is last thing he needs while sparring with someone as agile and skilled as Qrow. There should be some spare sweatpants and t-shirts in the changing room, but they’ll just see how it goes.

“No weapons and no weaponizing whatever you’ll get your hands on at the gym. I like my teeth where they are, thank you.”

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“you got it,” mischievous, determined grin widens, and just for that taunt, qrow’s gonna make it literal.

James should know better than to push his luck like that with him. he knows without Harbinger it will be a true challenge; while qrow’s hand to hand is far from lacking, he doesn’t rely on it as much as the other huntsman. and a move or two of his has been picked up from the General himself, too.

he stops at the programming terminal, inputting commands for rock and tree-like terrain, slightly dimmed lights.

“can’t make any promises about not weaponizin’ things, though,” his voice softens as he stares at the screen; speaks only truth, not threats, “…can’t always control that.”

qrow skips the changing room; simply removes his outer layer and tosses it to the side of the training gym, leaving the freedom of a loose-fitting tunic still tucked into combat slacks.

he reminds himself to stretch while he waits. it’s something else he’s neglected for too long and his body isn’t getting any younger.

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James takes little time to change into regular to the pain Atlas sweatpants combined with his heavy shoes. He walks out of changing room already frowning, annoyed at too tight t-shirt that doesn’t exactly fit over his shoulders. At least he’ll have more energy to burn out in combat.

“Don’t throw nor swing things at me on purpose and we’re good.” He grumbles pulling at shirt’s sleeves. “Your semblance is already pain in the ass. I ment purposeful usage, not just random inconveniences.”

He grits teeth and takes a decision. Can’t spar if he can’t move shoulders.

“Don’t tell Clover I did that.” They’d rip anyway, so might as well just tear the sleeves off himself. Obviously he’ll wash the pants and replace the shirt before returning it here.

Now he can roll shoulders. Still a bit tight in chest, but range of movement is satisfactory. A little warm-up is a good idea.

[flightofaqrow]

rest

qrow + James ( @caeloservare​ )

If Qrow wants a little break, he might have an idea what could possibly help. James left his almost-second-desk table and brought a blanket from bedroom. Not much can turn into a disaster while wrapped in something soft and warm, right?

qrow might still be pissed, but at least he is cozy. He knows James to work quietly and to leave him to his own hurts, unlike the vibrant, meddlesome kids training downstairs. he heaves a sigh, and glares out the window. something’s coming; he can feel it in the air. he needs to be sharper than this… this trainwreck of a man wracked with guilt and disillusionment, and rendered weak from withdrawal.

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“yeah i’m pissed off but i’d rather not talk about it.  that’s why you’re the one i came to.”

“Well then…” He can’t ask in this case. It was much more open and honest confession than expected, he has to respect that. “Shall I book the gym for you or fetch a bottle?”

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“neither,” qrow growls, all at once snapping with the immediate ferocity of his stated attitude, yet with a longing to the word that suggests he had to force himself to say it.

“jus’ peace and quiet,” his head throbs and his heart aches, and all he wants is the familiar silence James’ welcome a week or so ago seemed to suggest he missed too.

“…least for five seconds ‘til somethin’ breaks.” peace makes for a tall order with Misfortune around, especially the more and more qrow starts to care.

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Neither? What on earth has happened when he wasn’t looking?

“I suppose you’re aware that I do have questions… That can wait thought.” That’s a whole bunch of unexpected things from Qrow, refusing a drink starting, irritation at the end of the list.

But if Qrow wants a little break, he might have an idea what could possibly help. James left his almost-second-desk table and brought a blanket from bedroom. Not much can turn into a disaster while wrapped in something soft and warm, right?

“Come here.” He nods towards the couch, offering to turn Qrow into a blanket burrito.

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anger still flows through qrow’s heavy veins, and part of him wonders why this makes for such a comfort when he’s not even sure if he can trust James at the moment, and another part has words for the way the General has assigned him to his very own pretentious polar opposite, but he has little else left to believe in right now.

he curls into the corner of the couch, tucking long limbs all together, and lets the blanket drape over his shoulders. hands grab the hems gratefully and pull tight with a small grunt to acknowledge those questions as well as the offer to pass on them for now. “thanks,” he clips.

he might still be pissed, but at least he is cozy, and the warmth seeps to soothe aching muscles from lack of sleep. He knows James to work quietly and to leave him to his own hurts, unlike the vibrant, meddlesome kids training downstairs.

qrow heaves a sigh, and glares out the window. something’s coming; he can feel it in the air. he needs to be sharper than this… this trainwreck of a man wracked with guilt and disillusionment, and rendered weak from withdrawal.

he has weathered so many storms before, and he will again; it’s simply nice to have a strong, grounding presence here with him in the meantime.

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General kept quietly working, but couldn’t help glancing from time to time to a miserable couch caterpillar of one unfortunate bird. Too many things feel off, something big had happened one way or another, but he won’t press on what was it. Hopefully, he’ll find out eventually. For now he sticks to working on, but decides maybe he could actually stop once he’ll finish current pile. A friend is upset - it feels rude, even if he basically asked to be ignored for a while.

“Qrow, are you asleep?” He asks quietly about an hour later, setting two fresh mugs of a steaming coffee on the coffee table. Maybe not the smartest move, but both he doubts that Qrow sleeps if he was really this pissed and he could down two mugs in no time, if he does sleep. Assuming the scent won’t lure him out of the blanket in the first place.

Besides he’d like to sit on the couch too, but doesn’t want to invade it uninvited. Personal space can change a lot depending on the mood and obviously Qrow wasn’t in a good one.

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somewhere in the pounding rage of his head, and veins, and heart, and stomach, it all aligned enough to convince qrow’s body all worked well enough for rest. or maybe because none of it could go on any further.

his eyes closed without realization of the drift, and now flutter at stimulation of sound and smell. his hand reaches out from the side of covers to grasp the mug, fingers wrapping slowly, wearily around it, and then all at once the comforting warmth soothes him right back under. his arm droops into the gap between table and couch; his grip remains tentatively steady.

a heavy head slides down from the armrest to crunch his airway and he starts to snore. 

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Riight… That’s about enough of an answer. Well, at least he didn’t spill much and that grip is kind of impressive. General needs a moment to just stare in awe, before coming back to his concerns.

Coffee obviously has to wait, so he bends down and tries to pluck the mug from Qrow’s hand as gently as possible, same time trying not to wake him. Then wiping the floor it is. Then… Well, maybe he’ll take a break for once and just sit there and stare on the ceiling for a while. Sounds like a good plan.

On the way to kitchen for the paper towels, James stops to lightly pet Qrow’s hair. Hopefully he’ll wake up in a better mood. Once in the kitchen, James realised that it could use some clean up. He could also prepare something to eat, since he has a guest. Staring at the ceiling can wait, time to start cooking.

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he leaves a stain no matter where he goes. qrow branwen, can never truly clean up his act. for good measure, he’ll probably leave some drool on the couch cushion too.

he breathes less evenly in heavier sleep, huffing here and there with jerky movements to his torso and tangled legs. motions which settle for just the briefest of moments at the reassuring warmth of a hand on his head.

once left alone again, he pulls his arm back, curling in on himself as snores change to strange, garbled noises, clearly disturbed but not quite in distress.

his body hates him, and apparently takes it out on his dreams, for the fact he dares try to rest. until said body senses food, and decides it should start trying to rouse him once more for new priorities…

he quiets, but still not yet wakes.

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James noticed noises pretty late, due to vegetables frying on the pan being significantly louder and closer sound. He couldn’t leave the pan to burn and that surely would happen, given that he truly wasn’t the best cook around. Least he could do was trying to prepare food a bit quicker.

Before he was done with cooking enough to leave the kitchen, Qrow fell quiet again. That’s a good sign, but concerns don’t leave James do easily. Once he is sure kitchen won’t catch on fire and food is almost ready, save for serving, he goes back to the couch. Should he wake him or leave him be, since he stopped giving strange noises likely coming from bad dreams?

This time he squats to gently pet Qrow’s greying head. And stays there for a longer moment doing just that, a silent expression of care.

“Qrow.” He calls quietly. “Dinner is ready.”

[flightofaqrow]

tag refresh, ships

(reminder that ‘+’ denotes platonic dynamic)