The first thing Osamu noticed about the new kid was not his unusually short height, or the white hair, or the red eyes.
It was the wings.
Not because avian traits were unusual. A fourth of everyone in Mikado City had some variation, different combinations depending on lineage, species, bloodline going back generations.
Those wings looked out of ordinary.
Not injured. Not exactly. Just… strange in a way that took him a moment to place. Too compact against the boy's back for someone with that wingspan. The feathers layered oddly, denser near the joints than they should've been, and several flight feathers sat slightly misaligned. Not enough for anyone unfamiliar with wing care to notice. Enough that Osamu's attention caught and held.
Stress positioning, maybe. Old damage. Or something else entirely, something he didn't have a name for yet.
What struck him most was the stillness. The boy held them unnaturally motionless, with the kind of deliberate control that only came from long practice. Like someone who had learned, early and thoroughly, to protect them.
Osamu's frown came before he could stop it.
He knew that posture. Not from himself, he didn't have wings, but from years of taking care of someone who did. Chika's would puff up when she was nervous, flare out involuntarily when she startled, betray her completely whenever she was trying to seem fine. When she was younger she'd hide behind him and Rinji entirely whenever strangers visited. He'd spent years helping her clean blood from broken pinfeathers after panic-induced molts, learning the difference between a feather that needed to come out and one that needed to stay, learning to watch for the small signs before they became large ones.
You noticed things after that.
The transfer student lifted his gaze. Red eyes swept the classroom slowly, pausing on each face briefly before moving on, assessing, Osamu thought. Not nervous. Assessing.
"My name is Kuga Yuma," he said. "I lived outside the country for a while, so please take care of me and tell me if I do anything wrong. Nice to meet you."
He bowed. His wings didn't move at all during it. Not even the small reflexive shifts most people made without thinking, not the automatic adjustments for balance and momentum. Just nothing. Eerily, consciously still.
Osamu couldn't stop staring.
"Hey." Someone near the back. "He's wearing a ring."
The atmosphere shifted immediately. A few students straightened. Others glanced toward the teacher with the particular alertness of people hoping for someone else's trouble.
Kuga looked down at the black ring on his finger with the mild expression of someone who had simply forgotten it was there.
Their teacher frowned. "Accessories aren't permitted under the dress code. Please remove it."
Something changed in Kuga then. Not in his face, his face stayed perfectly even. But the feathers along the base of his wings drew in, tight and sudden, the motion small and involuntary in a way that everything else about him hadn't been.
His eyes came up slowly. "It's a memento from my father."
Then, a quiet, sharp hiss slipped through his teeth.
The room went still. Osamu felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Kuga didn't seem to notice he'd made the sound. Or he noticed and had simply decided it wasn't worth addressing. He held the teacher's gaze without blinking, expression calm, and somehow the calm made it worse, made it read not as patience but as a very controlled form of something else entirely.
The teacher looked away first. Cleared her throat. "...Just this once."
Tension left the room in a quiet collective exhale.
Then, Kuga turned toward his assigned seat. The rigid line of his wings eased by a fraction, barely. The kind of easing that wasn't comfort, just the absence of immediate threat.
Osamu watched him settle, and thought, with a certainty he couldn't have explained: those wings have been like that for a long time.
Not from today's small confrontation. From before. From something older and heavier that the boy carried so naturally he probably didn't know he was carrying it anymore.
He thought of Chika pressing her wings flat against her back every time she walked through a crowd. Of how long it had taken her just to stop flinching when he reached toward them.
It make him want to ask, ‘‘What happened to you?’’
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Sam needs help drying his wings after a shower
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: Light Fluff / SFW
𝐀𝐔: Avian
Sam often couldn't properly dry his wings on his own. at least, not very effectively. the main issue was he had issues reaching his secondary feathers, not able to stretch his wings enough or reach his arms back to dab them dry. which led to him appearing in your room, shirtless and with a towel.
your feathers fluffed in alarm when your door swung open, late at night. Sam was already presenting the towel, no longer needing to ask assistance in a favor you often did for him. you stared up at him from your spot on the large lovesac, cocking an eyebrow. "a please would be nice sometimes," you grunt as you heave yourself off the beanbag, pressing your wings against your bed as leverage.
your best friend invites himself to lay on your bed, face down and hugging your pillow. assuming the position that worked best with this situation. you straddle his back, and he spreads his wings as far as he can for you to ensure all feathers are dried. "i should get paid for this because i do it so often." you hum, grabbing the towel from the floor next to your bed.
as you start to gently dry the damp plumage, you allow yourself a second to analyze him. he was very attractive right out of the shower, oddly. light hair turned darker from dampness and very tousled from towel-drying, not to mention he was always shirtless when he asked this favor, stating he didn't want to get his shirt wet. and you swear up and down the way he wore his pajama pants low on his hips was strictly done on purpose to tease you, because he knows you'll notice it every time and stare at the way his v-line disappears underneath the clothing.
you can't say you've never asked the same favor of him. before you realized how agile you could be, you had to have him help you with drying too; one day you spontaneously tried to reach back and was able to do it well enough. as you dried, you could feel the tension dissipate and wings droop. after you were done, you spent some time smoothing out runaway feathers, fixing a few that had begun to split and look unruly.
Sam hummed, stretching the extra appendages out as much as he could, primary feathers brushing the bedroom floor. his wings were honestly on the larger size, even for being a male. yours were nearly half the size of his, despite yours having a wingspan of at least over eight feet. you laid down on top of him, chest to his back. you giggled when you stretched your wings out as well, placing them over his. the size difference was almost comical. though your wings were so much smaller because they were akin to a falcon, generally not on the big side.
these moments you often shared, though miniscule, never failed to make your heart flutter and feel closer to him.
And here is both Yang (Eagle type) and Ruby (peregrine Falcon). Ruby almost has too many feathers for her friends and important people, but She can’t trim her list. Also, that is the smallest feather Nora could give her.... Also for family, It’s objective. They could be placed on the tail (someone suggested this as ‘they will always watch their back’, At the neck or head, or not even worn. It depends on the person.
Also, Yang keeps the feathers around her neck, cause they could damage her hair, obviously.
I tried to keep the outfits close to the original, but trying to shove wings through tiny holes seemed like something unlikely unless it was for say armor. So who to do next? Jaune? Oscar? Nora Nora is going to be scaryfun, because she’s got the largest wings out of the group For now bed though...
......WHY DID I THINK WINGS WERE A GOOD THING?!?!? SO MUCH WORK Anyways, This ideas been floating in my head for a while. Not sure how it’d work out, but let me have my little bouts of insanity.
“Ha, so now what. Isn’t it your duty to save the helpless, Red?” Mercury taunts, praying she falls for it. His leg crushed, wings always in poor shape. With the room collapsing, he has no way to escape and he’d be damned if he just died quietly. He recalls the early days, with her too wide eyes and ill-placed second guesses, though it also comes to mind what happened in Mistral, her own words declaring her intent to shut him up. It makes him wary, but she is his way out of a no win situation.
“What?” She asks, as if offended. He laughs and motions to his leg.
“You’re some hero right, well I’m not going to be able to get out of here on my own…’
His throat closes as she stands up straight and stares at him, lips pressed tight. He recalls Emerald’s illusions for Cinder, the weak pitiful, mewling thing, and he can’t help but think it is the furthest thing from the truth right before him. No, now he can see the strong leader, soul forged in fire, adventure, and agony, a woman whose seen too much and would be very willing to leave him here to die like a dog. Chills creep down his spine, because he can tell that mere words like innocent and delusional cannot be used with her anymore. She towers above him a look of pity on her face, before kneeling down and lifting one arm over her head and pulling him up. She doesn’t look back at him, too insignificant to be more then a foot note.
“…Even though it is the right thing to do, don’t assume anything… Too many important, precious moments and people drive me forward. No matter how sad they make me feel, they’re a part of me now, and you don’t deserve to be on the same pedestal as them. You aren’t going to haunt my dreams. So get up, we’’re getting out of here, I have other things to do.” She shifted his weight a little, before taking a calming breath. “Don’t hold your breath and don’t bite you tongue.” Staring up at the patch of sky above, she crouched, and kept her hands steady.
Ruby’s Semblance encompassed all she touched. From an absurdly over-designed war scythe to the living muscle that was Nora, so long as she allowed herself to hold on, then it would be possible to carry them both out of the tower. Part of her wanted to leave him, it would not be the first death nor the last. She knew that she had killed others, inadvertently at least. She wasn’t as naive enough to think that the faunus in the tunnels had all survived back at Mountain Glenn. There was blood on her hands of strangers whom she didn't even know the faces of, but she knew his face, his voice, his sarcastic tone. It would linger in the back of her mind, like a buzzing fly; Yes there was always a chance this would backfire, but the risks were outweighed by the peace of mind. With only a second thought, she let her aura pass through and wrap up his cold void. Slowly, Ruby exhaled as she could feel her aura bubble up in her chest, and with a powerful flap of her wings, the world’s colors became dull.
Mercury couldn’t help but marvel as the world seemed to slow and the light fade as she leapt up the tall shaft, petals drifting around them lazily as if escorting her. Up, down, left, right, the direction didn’t matter anymore as she twisted and turned through the debris, sometimes moving so fast the pillars of wood seemed to curl around them instead of the logical other way around. Those small wings twitched and the one on his side pressed him closer as the once distant sky grew closer, and he could feel her aura grow thicker as she pushed her semblance further. The feeling of it dancing on his skin was both surprising and instinctively comforting. He would of honestly assumed it to be either too hot or cold, but it was warm. Like the sun on a perfect spring day, warming him to his core. Stomach turned, he grit his teeth as the sensation of life and comfort continued its embraced, until she broke through and reclaimed the sky, great wings snapping wide and they floated in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced down at where the airship he and the rest of his villainous band had arrived in was, only to find it missing. He shouldn’t of been too surprised, Tyrian would of naturally assumed him dead, dragging a weakly protesting Emerald away. It was more then he could expect; Salem’s will had done a fine job of corroding her will until she had been cowed into following orders when pressured, and Tyrian was a sadistic bastard. His own wings ached to glide on the breeze, but then the warmth shattered, ripped away as she landed. Dropping him, she moved away, placing several steps between him. Her back was turned, wings tucked against her back, and he could feel his rage simmer at her indifference. The scythe unfolded as she found what she was looking for and chopped a thick, sturdy birch branch from a tree. She tossed it at him, his own reflexes kicking in to catch it.
“That should be good enough to make a peg leg. Do you carry a knife with you?” She asked, leaning against her weapon as if relaxed, but he could tell by her shoulders she was ready for him to make one wrong move.
“Why would I need one of those?” He asked spitefully, though it occurred to him after the words left his mouth that any good survivalist would carry one. She gave him an oddly Schnee like roll of her eyes, huffing in annoyance as she reached under her skirt, the leather sheathe briefly flashing against a pale thigh, before she threw the small pocket knife at him. It was too small to do any noteworthy damage against any aura owner, but it was well cared for and sharp enough for him to hack away at the wood. Occasionally she twitched, lips pressing tight as if smothering a comment or suggestion, but remained quiet, thankfully. Rough substitute hacked out, he gave her a annoyed look, to which she motioned to him to throw the knife back. Once the tiny thing had been exchanged, she lifted her skirt, pulling the leather belt off her leg and pulling the case off its harness before tossing the sturdy leather his way. With a grunt, He tested the stability of the temporary limb. Not the sturdiest thing, but it’d do; A better alternative then hopping through a forest on one foot. Now the problem was the forest and whatever god forsaken creatures dwelled in it. Once they went their separate ways, he could hopefully use his scroll to notify the others of his survival or find a town to hide out in, but what if he was attacked before he…
The floor shook as if to flip him the bird. Ruby jumped as well and launched herself into the tree line, hugging the treetops as she scouted for the source of the noise. When she landed hard next to him, he could tell whatever she had seen was close and well aware of their presence. She said nothing for a moment, hand gripped tight on Crescent Rose, before taking a deep breath and moving forward, placing herself between him and whatever was moving towards them.
“If you are going to run, then do it when I attack. It’ll buy you time.” Her words were uncharacteristically uncaring and every warning bell in his head was screaming that it was a trap. She had no reason to think letting him go would be better then protecting him right? Besides, he wasn’t some helpless sap, he was a trained killer. Granted hobbled, but it wasn’t in him to go down quietly anyways.
“Bullshit.” He grunted, leaning against a tree. Again, he was thrown for a loop because this time she turned her head, her expression one of pure dumbfounded confusion. She had clearly expected him to bolt, not stand his ground.
“Can you still fight?” She asked, biting a lip. Mercury could almost see the hamster wheel in her head kick into overdrive as the tree line started to him and the bellowing grunts of a giant Grimm grew closer.
“Tch, not on this leg.” He snapped, dread twisting in his guts. Ruby shook her head as the red eyes peered through the trees.
“Could you fight if I kept you in the air?” She clarified, taking a step back as the final few trees splintered, the gaping maw of what could only be a mutated turtle crossed with something else opened. The beast lumbered forward, screeching in pain.
“What? …Well yeah, but My wings aren’t exactly flight worthy.”
“Hrmph, It’s obvious you need to someone to teach you proper wing preening and maintenance, but I think I can handle all the hard work. Just keep gliding and looking pretty and I’ll deal with the hard parts. Just so you know, we’re not aiming to kill it, just outrun it. Unless my friends arrive, we can’t take it down.” There was something in her tone that made him think that she was hiding something else, but now wasn’t the time to question it and focus on not getting eaten, crushed, or any other horrific death,
“Awww, someone things I’m Pretty do they?”
“… That’s not exactly a compliment for a guy you know….”
“Whatever, let’s just get this over with and go back to passive aggressively insulting each other.”
“Heh, well then, Mercury, shall we dance?” She gave him a strained smile before shifting her grip on Crescent Rose and held out one hand in invitation.
"who do you think you are?" Jonghyun shouted at the avian in the golden cage, dark eyes burning with anger, "why do you think you're here? I captured you. Iwonyou"
"No" Jinki said, raising his chin a little and meeting the human princes eyes though the bars, "I am a prince, and I have come to save my people" his sharp eyes flashed with regal defiance, as his pure white feathered wings ruffled with his agitation.
"You are a Slave" Jjong snarled through clenched teeth and stalking towards the caged beauty, pulling his whip from his belt, letting it unfurl with a gentle hiss, "maybe its time i treat you as such"
