Wingless Freedom || Wings AU TodoDeku
Posted: Fri Feb 26, 2021 12:39 am
Humans have evolved to have wings for a long time, now. As technology advanced, as did the culture surrounding their avian features. Massive buildings with personal balconies to land on, doors to accommodate the largest set of wings, fashionable clothes to accentuate the colors and patterns of that of each individual, specialized spas to help with preening of both wing and tail feathers as well as the careful plucking of stray feathers in undesirable places. Everyone was different, and it was incredibly rare for anyone to be born without. Even those with partial wings, either amputated or whatnot were helped with prosthetics or accommodations to help them get around on foot.
But.. Izuku Midoriya was certainly a... special case of wingless.
When he was a young age, his father had decided he was weak, that he didn't deserve wings of any kind. So when they were still small, barely even developed all of the baby down, his wings had been, well... torn off. He doesn't remember it happening, his mom says it happened within his first year of life, so he didn't have any memories. He knows he would've had Trochilidae wings, like his mother, instead of the Picidae wings like his father. Part of him suspects that's what made his father consider him weak, having the wings of such a feeble and fragile bird and having ripped them off in a blinding rage. At least he didn't have to look at the ugly scars on his back. And at least his father had done the duty of getting rid of the tail feathers, too.
It had been hard, growing up without wings. Most buildings hardly had ground-level entrances, and Izuku would either have to climb or ask for a ride up from his mother, though as he was getting too big, climbing was his go-to more often than not. Since there weren't a lot of people that didn't need to fly other than the elderly (who more often than not stayed home and had their kids run errands for them), he knew that unless he wanted to spend his whole life struggling, he was going to have to think of something.
And he started working on something when he was sixteen.
Thankfully, his mom was patient and allowed him to study her wings whenever she wanted him to help preen her, often having him take the old feathers to look over, having memorized each different one and their purpose after years of preening and studying. He was able to go to old scrapyards and dig up parts and carry them home, making a spot in the forest as to not clutter up his room at home. He spent any time not studying or at school working on them, and it took a lot of planning and figuring things out.
But his prosthetics were ready, he's sure of it.
They're made of a light-weight metal that doesn't hurt his back when he slips the wings on, and the tail 'feathers' aren't feathers, but they provide the same steering system as any other. Of course, the only distance is that he controls it with special stirrups that his feet can fit into, and subtle movements should allow for proper steering and control, though today was the first time he was actually going to test them.
At eighteen, he peers over the roof of the apartment complex, swallowing thickly at the massive height. He would have to perfect this... or else he might actually die from this. Exhaling a slow breath, he puts on the aviation goggles and does a quick check, making sure the motors and joints were working properly. Then, after double-checking everything and getting a fresh page open in his journal, he starts them up, turning his head as he steps out into open air.
Amazingly, they work.
Until they didn't.
He's able to stay in the air for about ten seconds before the motors seize up, black smoke starting to billow out of them. He drops in and instant and shouts, journal and pencil falling from his hands as he plummets, and he's working fast to try and get the wings to work again.
"Come on, come on!!!" He's frantic, tears filling his eyes before he's colliding with someone unexpectedly, dragging them down with him into the tree canopy below.
When he opens his eyes, he's dangling from a branch, one ankle caught and definitely broken as he hung upside-down. He takes a moment to groan and get his bearings, only to realize he had crashed into someone. He gasped and bent to unhook himself from the branch, falling with a grunt only to push the goggles off and look around frantically until he saw wings. He crawls his way over and rolls the other onto his back.
"I'm so sorry!! Are you okay? Did you break a wing?"
But.. Izuku Midoriya was certainly a... special case of wingless.
When he was a young age, his father had decided he was weak, that he didn't deserve wings of any kind. So when they were still small, barely even developed all of the baby down, his wings had been, well... torn off. He doesn't remember it happening, his mom says it happened within his first year of life, so he didn't have any memories. He knows he would've had Trochilidae wings, like his mother, instead of the Picidae wings like his father. Part of him suspects that's what made his father consider him weak, having the wings of such a feeble and fragile bird and having ripped them off in a blinding rage. At least he didn't have to look at the ugly scars on his back. And at least his father had done the duty of getting rid of the tail feathers, too.
It had been hard, growing up without wings. Most buildings hardly had ground-level entrances, and Izuku would either have to climb or ask for a ride up from his mother, though as he was getting too big, climbing was his go-to more often than not. Since there weren't a lot of people that didn't need to fly other than the elderly (who more often than not stayed home and had their kids run errands for them), he knew that unless he wanted to spend his whole life struggling, he was going to have to think of something.
And he started working on something when he was sixteen.
Thankfully, his mom was patient and allowed him to study her wings whenever she wanted him to help preen her, often having him take the old feathers to look over, having memorized each different one and their purpose after years of preening and studying. He was able to go to old scrapyards and dig up parts and carry them home, making a spot in the forest as to not clutter up his room at home. He spent any time not studying or at school working on them, and it took a lot of planning and figuring things out.
But his prosthetics were ready, he's sure of it.
They're made of a light-weight metal that doesn't hurt his back when he slips the wings on, and the tail 'feathers' aren't feathers, but they provide the same steering system as any other. Of course, the only distance is that he controls it with special stirrups that his feet can fit into, and subtle movements should allow for proper steering and control, though today was the first time he was actually going to test them.
At eighteen, he peers over the roof of the apartment complex, swallowing thickly at the massive height. He would have to perfect this... or else he might actually die from this. Exhaling a slow breath, he puts on the aviation goggles and does a quick check, making sure the motors and joints were working properly. Then, after double-checking everything and getting a fresh page open in his journal, he starts them up, turning his head as he steps out into open air.
Amazingly, they work.
Until they didn't.
He's able to stay in the air for about ten seconds before the motors seize up, black smoke starting to billow out of them. He drops in and instant and shouts, journal and pencil falling from his hands as he plummets, and he's working fast to try and get the wings to work again.
"Come on, come on!!!" He's frantic, tears filling his eyes before he's colliding with someone unexpectedly, dragging them down with him into the tree canopy below.
When he opens his eyes, he's dangling from a branch, one ankle caught and definitely broken as he hung upside-down. He takes a moment to groan and get his bearings, only to realize he had crashed into someone. He gasped and bent to unhook himself from the branch, falling with a grunt only to push the goggles off and look around frantically until he saw wings. He crawls his way over and rolls the other onto his back.
"I'm so sorry!! Are you okay? Did you break a wing?"