#sorry about the blood in your mouth; ledastrcy

[erudite-rebel]

@ledastrcy​ sent:  Don't mind her. She's just curled up on Calliope's back. A pair of glasses clutched by her tail that most definitely did not belong to her. Not that it mattered. It's her's now. 🔪 (Dragon Rider Verse)

---

Fortunately for Barty, he’s near sighted. With class out he doesn’t need them to be able to distinguish the blur of faces staring at him from up high in his lecture hall, but he’ll need them back eventually. 

He knows just approaching will gain nothing but crocodile tears from Ami and Calliope is just going to carry her away. He can tell through their link she is far too content with the little dragon on her back than to let someone spoil it.

He can at least let Ami think she’s sneaky.

“Now where did my damn glasses get to...”

#the doctor is in; ic #dragon au tag tbt #sorry about the blood in your mouth; ledastrcy

[erudite-rebel]

Closed starter for @ledastrcy​!

---

“...honestly, most of it's like a very complicated game of telephone, with different aspects growing or shrinking depending on the values of the area and the group it's initially told to. Watered down versions told to children potentially live on further than some of the gritter takes...”

Barty was content to talk, only occasionally gently swaying side to side as his hands wrote differently to the words out of his mouth, the outline of an essay coming to life in his small, cramped handwriting, slanted this way and that on the page as he swapped hands when one became sore, or needed to reach for something to eat.

Qrow was there next to him, looking as though he was ignoring him but Barty knew he was listening. He was one of the few people he knew who would suddenly pick his head up and inquire about something specific in what he talked about, proving he'd been aware all the time. Despite the fact the two of them clashed repeatedly and sometimes wore minor injuries from it, there were times like this when Barty felt warm.

He had a friend. One who wasn't obligated to spend time with him.

It was nice.

“...take for example the Navarro tales from east Vacuo. They have their own takes on the Warrior in the Woods. La Guerrera en el Páramo describes, for example, a silver eyed woman who bears a scythe in the badlands to protect a small village from the Grimm, instead of weilding a billhook. It's a later publishing, of course, in the last hundred years or so no doubt because of the Grimm Reaper...”

The talk was inspired by several older texts that the Deputy Headmaster, Ozpin, had loaned to him when he'd found Barty out of sorts one night. Barty had devoured them eagerly, loving the differences between the more common tellings and the rarer. He stopped for breath to reach for his iced coffee and take a drink, certain he might not get a reply.

#young punk; beacon era #sorry about the blood in your mouth; ledastrcy

[erudite-rebel]

Closed starter for @ledastrcy!

---

Qrow is elegant. Barty thinks it nearly every time he sees him, whether he’s watching Qrow wield Harbinger in a whirlwind dance, or when he see’s the other man stretched out, casually or otherwise. Barty is not much of an artist when it comes to persuits of a creative nature, but sometimes he wishes he could draw so he could capture the way Qrow’s body flows. 

It’s captivating, really. He’s always loved watching him, admiring him. 

Just then Qrow is stretched in his bed, half hidden among rumpled sheets and blankets. The expanse of Qrow’s back beckons Barty’s eyes, which move from the jut of shoulder blades along the curve of his spine and to the start of his hips. Barty was meant to be working, or had been intending to. Essays needed grading, but who wanted to grade when there was such a good distraction?

He moves with grace, despite not looking like he ought to be able to, with such long lines and a lanky frame, but he crawls over the mattress, careful not to jostle the other. 

“Heads up, I’m behind you,” he says quietly in warning, so as not to surprise the other. Warm lips press between Qrow’s shoulders once before he pulls away, replacing the loss of radiant heat with capable fingers. 

Curious hands roam over muscle, tension and knots from overwork sensed beneath skin. 

Barty began to work, firm in his pressure, starting high and working his way lower.

#the doctor is in; ic #sorry about the blood in your mouth; ledastrcy #my lover is a rover who flies on ebon wings; qrowbleck

[erudite-rebel]

Closed Starter for @ledastrcy!

---

Sitting still was hard. He was meant to, under pain of being slapped by a comb. Qrow at least allowed him to play music on his scroll, but in the mean time his fingers worked ceaselessly against Qrow’s sheets.

It was hard. A distraction would at least stop his brain from roaming into areas that only served to make his pants tight. The gentle pull of a comb through his hair and careful fingers slowly braiding his thick mane inevitably worked him up. Barty loved his hair, loved having it touched and worked with, and having Qrow sitting in his lap to do it, smelling the boy’s scent and feeling him move against Barty’s body was proving to be a bit of torture.

Barty hated sitting still.

As if his own body wanted to prove this, he felt himself squirming again, restlessly shifting, tapping his feet, trying to move-

It only caused a little tug on his scalp that made him shudder again, hands settling on Qrow’s hips in a squeeze as he bit his lip. No doubt the end result would be amazing, but for now it was near impossible to bear the wait.

#young punk; beacon era #sorry about the blood in your mouth; ledastrcy #my lover is a rover who flies on ebon wings; qrowbleck #//he's a fidget