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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago

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woodland

qrow x “Lieutenant” ( @slaughtermachine ) [tw: nudity, suggestive]

He comes here when he needs peace... he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t allow himself the luxury of a longass shower here and there.

Eventually, the sensation that he’s being watched gets to him so much that he finally turns his head... Just some birds, though. Nothing to worry about.

beady red eyes tilt to and fro as qrow takes in the sight...

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He comes here when he needs peace.

He’d been personally involved with mapping out the Mountain Glenn site and nearby areas. Safety and running water would be brushed off as impossibilities to anyone with less knowledge of the area than him. And now that he’s alone, he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t allow himself the luxury of a longass shower here and there.

The running water was his haven. He got to be out of dirty, sweaty clothes and discard his mask, and think over things he normally didn’t spare time for, inbetween making himself almost obsessively clean. Total privacy, and given that it was away from an encampment or headquarters, he also didn’t have to deal with people complaining about how much time he spent in the wet box.

That nuisance is traded for the wariness of the wilderness, and eventually the sensation that he’s being watched gets to him so much that he finally turns his head, baring teeth and prepared to kill anyone that caught sight of him unmasked.

Just some birds, though. Nothing to worry about.

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helpful birds, to qrow at least. amazing what information he could get from the dance of nature when he took to wings instead of words. this particular family of corvids had been populating this area of mountain glenn for generations. apparently so had a good few of the local grimm. qrow didn’t know whether that meant actual generations of grimm somehow, or whether the same ones had been around. …it’s a rough and simple translation.

the patriarch caws on a high branch, an alert of the man returned to their presence, threat of a predator.

qrow takes it as opportunity to end the conversation, not wear out his welcome, and get a closer look at what’s got them all riled up. hopping from his perch to soar down with a tap of talons on the open ceramic tile wall outside of the stall, he suddenly remembers what this building actually is.

hello there handsome.

beady red eyes tilt to and fro as qrow takes in tight muscles, dark ink, and chiseled lines tucked down into barely a towel. something in his bird brain says to fly, but something stirring in his human brain glues him firmly to the spot. scars of a body mean little when his man form shares the same, and all of that distracts for a moment before qrow catches the facial scarring, apparent and angry in a way that clutches in hollow ribs; even another moment before he can tell the difference between disfiguration and glare.

silent blinks process, looking back in feigned innocence and ignorance, and in the span of those seconds the angry face softens. yes, good, of course, nothing but a harmless bird here, sir.

clearly, this person had been through some shit. qrow can sympathize. maybe a smile could help bring something better out of that face? (or if nothing else, extends qrow’s showtime for some serious eye candy)

a small rattle warms up his throat while shiny feathers fluff, and qrow twists and bends his neck to scrape a black beak against mortar.

then, he lets out the unmistakable sound of a wolf whistle.

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…!

He was just turning around, ready to go collect his clothes, when he hears it. He whirls around so fast that his towel nearly slips, looking for who had made that sound, brain firing on all cylinders and body ready for a fight.

No one’s there.

His eyes are wide and searching, and his teeth are bared, the way they always were when ready to tear into somebody–verbally or physically. The lack of an immediate target stops him short, but he knows there must be one, somewhere in those trees. It’s some mix of rage and rapidly burgeoning humiliation he feels. No way any of the green upstarts at the Fang would be so bold as to do this. Is there someone here he didn’t see when he arrived? Maybe one of Cinder’s ballsy, harebrained associates?

“…Who’s there?!”

His demand goes unanswered but for a flock of birds flying away in alarm, which only makes him nervous. He had expected some sort of stifled laughter. That had been a whistle he heard, right? His eyes settle on the only thing left, a small black bird with red eyes, probably a crow or a raven. One of those carrion-feeders that wasn’t easy to scare, he supposed. Could birds imitate human sounds…?

…Maybe he should just leave. He didn’t have anything on him, and though he could handle himself without his chainsaw, he didn’t much care for violence in his present state anyway. Too vulnerable.

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mis-aimed Misfortune nearly gives qrow even more of an eyeful, and definitely causes him to hop and fluff up on the spot. that voice sounds ready and willing to knock someone right out, and his stance backs it up. only his scars looked angry before, but now his whole face does.

qrow doesn’t rush away with his companions; instead, his whole body shakes, audibly fluttering out the sudden stress in the way creatures do, trying to de-escalate. for every bit of aggression the man holds, qrow lets go his own defenses (no ego and less body to protect in this form); that had not gone as planned.

but he’s not scared, not threatened. not like this.

so, in all of qrow’s glory and experience of if at first you don’t succeed… he tries again.

mocking laughter expected a hidden source doesn’t come, but the black bird does tilt his head in mischief and silent amusement; he waits, making sure he has the man’s attention, trying to convince him of how he should feel, too… and whistles yet again; and just for show of reckless, half mindless, wild creature abandon, he hops along the wall, continuing to repeat it, mixed with a regular cheeping caw or two.

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For quite a long moment, he’s staring right at the guilty bird, feeling the sort of blank ‘processing’ kind of emptiness in his brain that tended to precede–yep, there it was. Feeling like an idiot. For all that he should be relieved, and he is, he knows he’s just made a fool of himself, threatening a bird out in the middle of nowhere over nothing.

He closes his eyes and sighs, turning his back on the edge of the woods. He’d better just get his things and get the work he needed to do here done. The benefit of being under the radar was supposed to be a little bit less alertness and paranoia, but fuck it, seems like that’s not a defect he’s getting rid of that easily. …Maybe he’ll put his mask on, just in case.

“Go! Get out of here, shoo!”

He doesn’t wait to see if the bird was successfully sent fluttering away, rather turning on his heel and returning to his little encampment. Damn it, god fucking damn it. Now he can’t shake the feeling of being watched, even though he knows he isn’t. He feels like he needs another shower–no, no, what he needs is to just get to work. He can relax when he’s asleep tonight. Or dead, really.

Fuckin’ animals…

#slaughtermachine #* we got work to do = ic *#* unbirdened *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *#* save that for when you're older = suggestive *#* i gave you my life = past *

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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago

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"Hiiii~ What doing~?" Clover calls after his little crow friend. It's been a while since the little mischief maker came to unearth Clover's office for shinnies. "I've missed you, my friend. Are you being naughty? Step up," Clover offers his hand for the bird to climb on.

qrow doesn't get quite as far as digging into that wonderful little treasure chest on Clover's personal desk. his beak doesn't pick locks as well as his fingers.

"hiiii~" the bird opens its beak and immediately drops the padlock. the padlock that hadn't been there before, "wot wot?" he answers as innocently as possible.

he trots over and onto Clover's wrist, talons wrapping carefully around, "step up! good boi!" he follows up with a few regular caws for posterity. being able to stare directly into Clover's smiling, enthralled face like this is really something else. qrow wonders how long he can possibly drag the game on.

#* open and wide and forgiving like a hot meal after a cold night = courtclover *#* so yeah there's that = answered *#* we got work to do = ic *#* unbirdened *

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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago

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bird hc masterlist

(some of this was from a prior version of that meme so it was an excuse for more compilations, yay)

tl;dr:

he’s not actually a specific type of corvid but the twins both being ravens is closest

he can talk (some), and he sounds like Hamlet the parrot from tiktok

his hair acts like feathers

he does some bird-like things as a human

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I was thinking this morning how rwby doesn’t actually specify much about Raven and Qrow’s shapeshifting, we just kind of assume.

What we’re actually told is that they’re birds. Weiss refers to Raven as a raven once, but otherwise, and according to script notes, they’re just birds.

“I gave them the ability to turn into birds.” “Raven…? Qrow…? They’re birds!”

And looking at their designs, they look similar in size, and if anything, Qrow’s is the more complicated one with extra feathers.

This is a long way of saying that I’m officially announcing a headcanon that qrow also turns into a raven. and that’s why he can talk. This is how he talks.

he doesn’t necessarily know this. he can be referred to as any corvid, and just kind of thinks of himself as a generic black bird.

based on your last headcanon do you think he would be a different kind of corvid? like a magpie with white in the wing feather or a blue jay? spies use different identities and clothes so it could tie into that. probably defeats the meaning of his name but i think it’s a pretty cool headcanon.

I don’t see why not!! I think it leaves interpretation pretty well open, and I like to throw in a lot of non-corvid bird references/puns into my writing just for fun (I often mention him parroting people, for example).

If you look at some of the reply discussion, you’ll see some good points too:

@huntsman-ash reminded me of the Huginn and Muninn allusions… which definitely points strongly towards both of the twins being Ravens, like their counterparts. And that’s what I work with and picture most strongly.

BUT

@reallifejedi replied: If we borrow from a series I really like, shapeshifters make their animal forms based on their own mental images and suppositions. So Qrow’s unique hybrid of multiple birds, and his weird lil cape, *and* their red eyes, can be entirely pulled from their own mental images, and the fact they ‘aren’t quite right’ could very well be because humans are very fallible.

Qrow especially, does not fit the typical feather anatomy of a crow OR raven. There’s no reason their own perceptions or needs can’t be tweaked a little bit each time they shift, if they want. It’s meant to be a disguise, after all, like you said!

We can presume Raven keeps her form relatively consistent, considering Yang was able to recognize her. And Qrow’s has some features which stay the same, but there is just so much room within canon and headcanons to play around with. ‘Hey, it’s ~magic~’ is a good argument for a lot lmao.

Also the meaning of his name is still there, a bit jumbled but still a bird reference, and still the tie-in to being a sign of bad luck and possibly (to some people) the ‘lesser desired’ Branwen.

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qrow’s hair

qrow’s hair when he started at beacon was slightly shaggier, and mostly unstyled.

Shortly before getting his crow form, he cut it to what it is now.

It never changed after that, even if he tried. He couldn’t grow it out further; he could cut it, but it would return to the same length either within a couple weeks, or as soon as he changed to crow form and changed back.

Because in time, it partially became feathers. Separate strands of hair still exist, but they part together in pieces like feathering, and form the shapes that makeup his hairstyle.

It grew naturally into the style it has, he does nothing to it to make it happen. It’s resistant to being changed with heat or product, and eventually he gave up, for what little he cared anyway.

Each ‘pieced’ collection of strands moves like a separate feather, and when he moves his head everything shifts around in a unit together, bounces off itself, etc. (This is literally how it’s animated. I’m pretty sure it works that way for everyone just because of the show’s style but whatever, I’m using it.)

Yes, it will fluff up and/or ruffle slightly if he’s suddenly excited or upset.

Canon feather hair floofage (it might be a stretch but let me have it)

Combing fingers through it still works like normal, it will separate, but return once the person stops. It can be mussed up, but likewise, will return to its original style quickly without any help.

It also secretes oil similar to feathers which gives it some water resistance. Rain will bead off of it to a certain extent before it starts to actually get wet, and it takes basically being completely saturated to lose its style. This is the part he gets most nervous about people possibly catching on to if they’re paying enough attention in a relevant situation.

(If you squint, that oil gland specifically kind of gives him a faunus trait.)

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The bandit tribe used the common technique of communicating with each other using bird whistles and clicks while scouting/raiding. The twins have thus adapted this to their own language using corvid-specific noises for use while exploring, battling, and while in bird form.

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Meta on Birds?

this qrow doesn’t have as… strong opinions on other birds as some seem to, haha. some kinds can be annoying. most leave him alone. actual corvids seem to know something is off about him, and treat him with the same wariness as other people do. he doesn’t fit in anywhere.

some of them can be helpful.

between his time in the tribe - knowing nature as signs of danger or weather or the movement of other creatures - and his time in the air - personally learning some ins and outs of their instincts and communication - he has learned to read their behavior pretty well. what species live in what environments and what it means if they move beyond boundaries. how close to somewhere or something he is if he sees one. it’s one more bit of info he can use for his missions.

qrow has a particular affinity for bird faunus. his corvid side helps him understand them better too. he likes to surprise anyone with feathers at how he seems to have some innate sense of how to handle them properly, how it feels to have them, what it’s like to have some birdbrain yet still be mostly human.

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So question, a lot of people like to see how Qrow handled his bird form. What does your Qrow think of it? Are there any tics he has picked up from going back and forth between man and bird? ( like collecting trinkets or the like? )

To the first question,

He thinks of it, mostly, as a tool. Granted, a meaningful one - it’s special to him and Raven alone which is pretty cool; it’s a symbol of Ozpin’s trust; it’s also kind of a reward for being one of the best so he can take pride in that. It’s a secret which can feel like a powerful little ace up his sleeve, even if it’s not really relevant at the time; like a confidence booster if he’s intimidated by other “regular” humans.

As a man with a frequent need to escape his own mind, he loves the freedom his bird form offers, flying through the air unburdened, dipping and weaving in full control of himself, getting to see the whole world in all its beauty and darkness, learning secrets and being able to watch over people. but he respects the responsibility also tied to it, and thus rarely indulges or risks giving himself away without a purpose. Sometimes he can’t help it.

I guess you could say he considers it a blessing that evens out his curse, just a little bit.

To the second,

I do like the idea of picking up some tics! It becomes another self that you’re bound to pick some new habits up from just like if you started frequenting a new place or new people, after all. (I really really love the bird-like head twitching they gave Raven in vol 4, but haven’t seen any equivalents for Qrow really?)

Here’s a list of things so far:

an affinity for eating seeds as a snack. particularly sunflower seeds.

staring longingly out windows, missing the sky and all the information that comes with being out there. you’d be surprised what kind of secrets the changing winds and trees carry. also, he’s kinda always keeping an eye out for Raven.

he can whistle in birdsong. Yes, I know corvids only make ‘ugly’ sounds. No, I don’t care. It’s a general bird thing. Also magic. Also they can learn to imitate other sounds.

he’ll make clicking/rattle type noises sometimes when he’s thinking. Probably only if he’s by himself. Granted, it sounds a little different since in human form it’s with his tongue instead of his throat.

Shiny things do catch his eye, but he usually doesn’t do much about it. It might make him consider switching up his rings sometimes. What he will do is pick up and leave little trinkets for other people, he doesn’t ‘give gifts’ exactly, as he doesn’t present them to people. He’ll just discreetly drop them off on a counter, or windowsill, or their bed when they’re not around. The more he knows someone, the more complex gift they might get, including things he crafts together as a human with all the little bits he picked up as a bird.

The one exception to being discreet that he allows himself: If he’s so happy he doesn’t even know what to do with it, or so upset it’s practically a tantrum (both are rare, but) - he will turn crow and hop around like crazy to get the energy out. It’s his version of screaming into a pillow, I guess. This video is 100% to blame for that one.

he gets some of the really weird positions he puts his legs in, one from them being so long, but also from going back and forth from bow-legged bird legs.

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qrow can be, and has been, in bird form while drunk. crack shenanigans can ensue, especially for pestering Tai, but for main actual headcanon this is only true for flying over distances, not when he’s, say, in a town scoping things out. it’s erratic and hysterical. he has been confused for a really big bat.

on the opposite side, there have been missions that have required (or at least were easier for) him to stay in bird form for a few days straight. these would be spent sober! But not for long once he changes back.

he will also sleep in bird form on missions or sometimes just because.

still building off of the first - most of his ‘people based’ intel came from being able to poke around towns and buildings and watch people or listen in on conversations because he could simply be there, inconspicuous. this is slightly less so after Salem finds out about the birds (or at least, the way she talked about him being an eye blinded I assume she knows even before the show starts?). Her higher up agents knew to at least try to be in a small room or something.

his crow has the crest feathers on his head unlike Ravens, and yes it does feel nice to be scritched under them.

the grimm leave him alone unless he instigates something, and once he did go after a small pack of ravagers just because he could. he picked two of them off with beak, claws, and tactics, but had to change to wipe the rest of them out because they swarmed.

bonus

yes he poops in bird form if it comes to that, no not on things or people. except maybe on some atlas droids. once. maybe. you can’t prove it.

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vagabonds-and-wanderlust:

You sympathize with crows. After all, you too are a collector of shiny baubles and useless castoffs. And you, too, occasionally give them away to people you’ve taken a liking to.

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crow-suggestions‌:

how to befriend a humble crow: a guide

give me food - peanuts are my favorite :^

stay six feet away at all times. i’ll go up to you if i trust you

hang out with me often so i don’t forget about you

be a nice person!

talk to me when we’re hanging out. tell me about what’s going on in your life.

know that i appreciate you as long as you are kind and generous.

#* hey don't get mad cause i'm right = headcanon *#* unbirdened *

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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago

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tag refresh, verses

#* i gave you my life = past *#* thank goodness i'm out there risking my life = vol 3+4 *#* i can't say this has been a warm reunion = vol 5 *#* strain to see some fortune in tomorrow = vol 6 *#* you've earned it = vol 7 *#* childish dreams gone = vol 8 *#* still got a long way to go = future volumes *#* i don't really know = timeline undetermined *#* unbirdened *#* your favorite fairy tale = AU *#* your favorite fairy tale = AU = good salem's spy *#* your favorite fairy tale = AU = sire of silver *#* your favorite fairy tale = AU = event horizon *

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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago

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☢

drunken kissing booth ** not accepting (but i'll probably do another meme in a 'lil)

a corvid hops excitedly on Salem’s desk, making his way up to her shoulder; albeit he bounces a bit erratically, because the bird was also a very drunk man about five minutes ago.

he flutters his pretty wings and rattles, seemingly proud of himself.

he makes croaking smoochy-noises, they almost sound slurred. his voice, however, rings strong, “...kisses?” he coos.

he got his magic from Salem, but he is learning his behavior from Summer. Summer gibs beak smooches. he wants to show off his new words and to try it on Salem.

“...kisses..? Mwaaah!!!”

gib kisses, boss. gib the good bird boi kisses!!!! no, don’t mind the breath, look at the pretty feathers and how cute he is!!!

#* suddenly a lot more things make sense = wiitchisms *#* unbirdened *#* hey i got a tip for ya = meme response *#* your favorite fairy tale = AU = good salem's spy *#* i gave you my life = past *#alcohol tw #okay you get one (1) silly

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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago

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kuro

bird!qrow + Clover ( @courtclover )

“I’m taking you out! You’re being naughty!” Clover raises his voice over the crow’s squawking as he walks down the hallway and there’s definitely a few glances and stares from those they pass by. Clover rushes a little faster.

oh! oh! Clover doesn’t want eyes on him for once? really? that’s fine, that’s fine. qrow can be the show off tonight.

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kisses? m-mwaaah!

When Clover said he wanted kisses, he didn’t mean kisses from a big black pointy beak. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers.

“Don’t play cute now. You know you’re in trouble.” Clover chuckles, trying to be firm with the friendly crow who keeps stealing shiny objects out of Clover’s office.

“You’re being naughty! I’m taking you out.”

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“whaAAT,” comes the caw of a nearly-shunned crow, dropping a fancy twisted metal fishing lure from his beak, as if he’s innocent of all wrongdoing, and offended at any implication otherwise.

“why,” he trills, obligingly steps talons onto Clover’s arm, but as just such is explained and they start moving back into the sterile halls of atlas academy, his feathers start fluffing and he squawks more aggressively, “wot dOOiNG?”

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“Yes you are! You’re being so naughty!” Clover takes the bird to his private quarters. There is less of a chance of anyone stepping into here than in Clover’s office. Clover hasn’t a clue how he would explain himself. The crow just showed up one day trying to steal Clover’s lures.

“There, see this is more fun for a troublemaker like you. Look, here, you can have this.” Clover offers the bird a place to roost and offers a shiny coin as well. Another one of Clover’s lucky charms, but one he wouldn’t mind parting with.

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oh! oh! Clover doesn’t want eyes on him for once? really? that’s fine, that’s fine. qrow can be the show off tonight.

“aahhhAaaAhhHHaa!!” he cackles in the tune of some manic 8-bit video game character as they move faster and he feels the flow of air in his feathers, fluffing and making even more silly cawing noises. while his birdbrain very much keeps control, some part in the back of his human brain also finds amusement at Clover calling him naughty.

especially when they get to his room.

qrow hops onto the raised edge of a dresser, resettles his wings and scrapes his beak on the nearest metal surface, acting disinterested, only out of spite for being removed from his original target, even if beady red eyes glint at new shinies. he flicks his head this way and that before peering at the man again, caw, caw, “hiiii!”

(surely, this is how this magic is intended to be used.)

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“Brothers, you’re such a troublemaker.”

Clover shakes his head, but he’s smiling. He leaves the coin nearby on the dresser, just in case the bird changes their mind later. The crow begins to caw at Clover and there Clover’s smile softens. He’s never had a pet before, never had the chance to care for something. It feels nice.

No. What is he thinking? Clover can’t keep a wild bird in the operative barracks. Even if the crow is cute trying to steal all of Clover’s special fishing lures. For now, Clover will try to keep the bird out of trouble and figure out where he belongs. Bring the bird home.

“Hiii~” Clover responds back to the crow. “What doing?”

The AceOp leader chuckles as he mimics the crow.

“No, seriously, what are you doing? Why do you want my fishing lures for? Crows don’t eat fish, do they?”

Oh great, there he goes speaking to a bird like it’s capable of understanding.

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the crow clicks and rattles contentedly, not contending the accusation in the slightest.

he cranes his neck to preen the top of his wings just so, pleased to stand in the beaming rays of Clover’s smile, pleased he can have an effect on someone so easily for once.

he’ll forgive him for trying to trade prime metal scrap for a good luck coin that will do him no good. especially when he mimics qrow, then, and it’s adorable. his head flicks back in the man’s direction. he blinks as he stands still and listens.

“wat dooing!!” he repeats.

his vocabulary is too limited to give a true answer, which of course is off limits for totally blowing the secret anyway. but in some gremlin vaguery, he lifts a leg and flexes his talons. the ones that wish they were holding a fishing lure. for crafting into something else.

“yeah!” he also adds, in response to all the questions.

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Clover laughs when the bird repeats the same sentence over again. It’s capable of mimicking all kinds of human speech, but the bird prefers asking that one question for some reason. What doing? The crow must have picked it up somewhere. It’s cute.

Clover extends a finger slowly, wanting to pet the crow’s head, but he stops when the bird motions with its talons. Clover doesn’t understand this behavior and he thinks the bird is stretching. The AceOp then notices there isn’t a band of some kind above the crow’s digits. The bird must be wild, but how is that possible? Crows aren’t native to Solitas.

“Well, that settles it then.” Clover decides he’ll give the bird what it wants and maybe having a pet wouldn’t be so bad.

“I should give you a name, huh?” Clover moves to another part of his room and there he searches for the long since forgotten fishing equipment he keeps stored in a closet. He has a box of fishing lures for the crow and he shakes it, trying to entice the crow’s curiosity.

“How about Kuro? For the color of your feathers.“

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qrow’s pushing his limits, his luck, with this disguise he knows, but he hasn’t had such fun in ages. at least, not sober. Clover looking confused is not an image either of his brains will lose anytime soon.

he’s almost tempted to step forward, to encourage what looked like a primed and ready scritchin’ finger, but then that hand moves to grab something even better.

the bird hops; back and forth in place it bounces on both feet, seeing some glint and glimmer even through the plastic baitbox.

happy trills sing in its throat until Clover mentions a name that sounds like a distorted version of his own already, and he can similarly place the inflection of it as more Mistrali. How does Clover know this?

acting as a wild bird, he cannot approve nor disapprove of what anyone cares to call him. he has had many names in his feathered lifetime.

he looks up to open his neck, tries to imitate the sound, but all that comes out is a crackling attempt at “Kh” - a clipped, gargled sound that gets struck in his bobbing throat, kind of like a fish choking on air. he would have to practice to train his chords any further for that one…

“…kh-kh… k…isses?” his voice lands on something more familiar. it’s a failed attempt at communication, but the mischief still directed at Clover from red eyes don’t seem to mind.

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Clover opens the tackle box and he stops, blinking with surprise as the crow attempts to repeat the name. What a clever little bird! It struggles with the sound and doesn’t execute it well with its limited range of vocals, but it still shocks Clover with how the bird is clearly trying.

Perhaps, with a bit of repetition, Clover can teach the crow to say it.

“Hey, good job! You deserve kisses for trying, Kuro.” Clover chuckles and he isn’t scared to lean his head down to kiss such a long beak.

“Mwaaaa~” He mimics the bird again, pulling his head back up swiftly. That’s exactly how the crow gives kisses. Clover wonders where the crow picked that up from. Who else isn’t scared of kissing crows?

“Here, take your pick.” Clover then offers the open tackle box and watches the bird a moment, thinking to himself how he will care for such a small and wild animal. Clover can’t keep it in his room for long. He’s sure the wild and nosy bird would make a mess or hurt itself somehow trying to get out. Clover can’t cage it either.

Mindlessly, Clover takes his finger and gently rubs the top of the crow’s head before a soft smile blooms on his face. Clover doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but he’ll make it up as he goes.

“You know, I have a friend who is named after you. Even his last name has something to do with crows.”

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if Clover thinks it’s cute how qrow tries to mimic him, it’s about ten times sillier to watch Clover mimic his trilling bird voice. he gets a kiss. kisses!! affection freely received and freely given, more types of freedom so much more easily found in his feathers.

he hates to admit how much he enjoys it.

the crow whistles happily and brings his head back at what would be a breakneck angle for a bigger being.

excited wings flap and feathers fluff when presented with his pick of treasures! oh, he recognizes some of these shapes from long gone days, and then some far beyond basic. the human in him appreciates the craft and the wild in him appreciates tools of survival. his head tilts all ways to capture the full picture of the choices spread before him!

his beak pecks at a few, and his talons curl to dig around others and he continues his “k” sounds at hearing the name again.

he absolutely makes a right mess, he has to put on a presentation of feral disorganization after all… any lures with too many dangly bits or big plastic pieces, or absurdly bright colors, he pulls out and scatters aside.

he pauses in his search only to allow those fingers to caress across his forehead, and his eyes close and open slowly in appeased response. the careful, respectful touch makes him feel warmer than it should in any form, but thankfully the only color he wears right now is black, and he’s entirely safe in anonymity to experience whatever emotions and sensations he likes.

he picks a simple steel twist with an opalescent scale-ish sheen, maybe even a bit bulkier than the one he’d tried to steal. “yeah!” he calls triumphantly.

Clover’s last statement hits too close to home, and it could make him laugh if it didn’t scare him, make him feel a slight twinge of guilt in his gizzard. he shouldn’t let him dwell on the idea for too long.

so he ignores it, pretending not to follow that string of language at all. he tosses the lure in his beak, glee lacing some chittering caws while he fidgets and flaps around, focusing all of his attention on the new “toy,” …and sending a few others flying off to the floor in his revelry.

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Clover watches the crow in its mirth and he doesn’t feel any disappointment or annoyance in the mess it’s making; instead, he raises a curious eyebrow and lets a few chuckles escape him. Clover doesn’t know a thing about crows or how to care for them, but it’s not something he can’t handle.

“Hey, careful. You can hurt yourself with some of the metal ones.”

Clover begins to pick up after the bird and once he has a few lures in his hands, he stops to look them over. It’s been a while since Clover had a day for himself and fling a real fishing line into open waters.

He misses a time when he didn’t have so much weight on his shoulders, a time where a hobby wouldn’t feel so selfish to indulge in. However, that time has come to pass and Clover returns the old lures to the box.

“Here, look, you might like this one, Kuro.” Clover finds a green plastic lure in the shape of a worm inside the box and he takes it out for the crow to see.

“Not like the one you gave me, but here.” Clover offers the crow the fake worm. The bird can have this one. Clover doesn’t need the lures anyway.

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deep, emphatic squawks yell from qrow’s throat as he shuffles through carelessly with practiced beak and practiced claws. metal does not scare him. he is a master of steel.

maybe part of qrow’s curse is sucking those around him into the same over-indulgence he once partook in. maybe some of this chaos is him letting a little out. he doesn’t think of this nor realize what goes on in Clover’s mind.

these are things that just happen around him. a spy who leads people to the truth. a crow who leads people to their own demise. a friend who wants to see Clover smile.

“wat wat?” he chirps and turns, more agreeable when given offerings, and drops the metal in his beak into a little pile he’s collecting of his favorites. he hops into the air and flaps his wings with some flair before gliding the short trek back across the table. he doesn’t land on the edge, but right on Clover’s wrist, pecking thoughtfully at the suggested lure in his palm.

he presses his beak to that wrist with smol kiskis noises once more, as if he remembers the prior trade and expresses gratitude, “yeah!”

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Clover softly chuckles and he smiles wide, charmed by the little bird’s adorable antics. He’s also amazed by Kuro’s speaking ability yet again and Clover wonders how such a wild bird picked up those words.

Maybe, Kuro had an owner once or maybe it has lingered too close to humans; either way, it’s incredible. This crow is incredible. Clover hopes he can one day introduce his new friend to his teammates or James and Winter. Why not? He’d love for Kuro to meet them too.

The crow gives Clover kisses again and Clover laughs out loud enjoyably. The bird’s naughty behavior from earlier is easily forgiven.

“You’re incredible, Kuro.” Clover admits his earlier thought and he lifts his arm to speak to the crow on its level.

“I’ll let you back in my office, but no more being naughty, okay?” Clover smiles at the bird.

“Kisses?” He asks the bird to promise.

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it is, very hard to stay mad at an adorable, innocent animal. qrow cannot get away with such things as a human, often. he can be more open and himself in so many ways with this freedom.

he can be closer. the warmth in Clover’s wrist matches his smile. he can bring others more things this way too.

he shouldn’t linger much longer. this form enjoys respectful, careful touch and treats and eyes that shine like seafoam sea glass of washed up wine bottles.

his wings flutter again, part innate response at the rush through his feathers at being lifted, part response to compliment and accusation, and part to shake off emotions that are too big for this body to understand.

“step up. step up!” he squawks, instinct setting off the familiar command that would typically place him on someone’s arm this way. …and a declaration of his intent.

he does not kiss. he does not promise. but he will try.

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Clover’s warm smile could melt the snowcaps of Solitas. Kuro is unbelievably adorable and the bird melts Clover’s trained heart with every flap of its black wings and its crow speech.

Clover imagines having a pet has its responsibilities, but this, caring for something so small, feels indescribable. It feels as if Clover isn’t alone anymore. Can a pet be family?

Kuro doesn’t make any promises as Clover askes, but the crow speaks new words and it takes Clover by surprise once again.

“Step up?” Clover repeats, amazed and chuckling. What a unique bird. He’ll give the crow under the beak finger scratches for that.

Clover then looks to the door of his room and realizes he should be returning to the duties he’s neglecting right about now. However, he doesn’t know whether to leave the crow here or take it back with him.

“I need to go back to work now, Kuro. Want to come along?” Clover asks, which is probably a bit difficult, but Clover also pats a spot on his bed.

“You can stay, if you want?”

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qrow stills to let the warmth of Clover’s dashing, heartfelt smile wash over him, to bask in the gentle stroke of knuckles and more touch, and his feathers flutter in ruffles from head to tail. still, still, it is too many feelings for a tiny bird body, and so

he hops, bounces on bird talons again with glee along the desk. it was admirable enough to watch how Clover cared for the kiddos, but to be the recipient of that tenderness heals and hurts him all at once. these are experiences he simply cannot have as a human. possibly, experiences neither of them could have in any other form.

“step up!” he trills softly as he steps right up onto Clover’s arm, his treasures forgotten by his bird brain, forsaken for what’s in front of him now.

he must come with; he must leave. his only allowance in life is fleeting happiness. he will not stay. he cannot stay.

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Soft, warm laughter spills from Clover at the sight of the bird’s little excited hops. It’s very adorable and it’s hard not to smile at such sweet enthusiasm. Clover almost doesn’t want to go back. He could spend all day playing with the crow and learning more about its brilliance.

Work could wait a little longer.

Clover lifts the crow higher and has more scritches to offer. With a finger, he rubs beneath the crow’s beak and moves down through soft feathers to pet at the bird’s chest. Clover repeats the motion, up and down the curve of its neck and there Clover notices the light red color of the bird’s beady eyes.

“Huh…” Clover sounds. He knows this color. He’s seen it before. How curious.

“Good boy.” Clover compliments the crow and he scritches at the top of its head. The thought of Qrow enters his mind and a soft, warm smile blooms on his face.

#* open and wide and forgiving like a hot meal after a cold night = courtclover *#* suddenly you're ripped into being alive = qrow + clover *#* you've earned it = vol 7 *#* unbirdened *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *#i'm cryin #this thread is a blessing #i don't often get to do serious stuff with birbform

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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago

Text

nuisance

bird!qrow + Bartholomew Oobleck ( @erudite-rebel )

Barty tried to ignore him. He did. He had a class to teach, and it did not involve boyfriends making themselves into pests and ensuring Barty could not escalate or do much for the fact he didn’t need to look like an utter looney talking to a bird.

classes were boring, and even if qrow remembers every moment Barty made learning more fun for him, he had since come up with his own ways to break the monotony.

this is for the kids, Barty.

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“Of course the plague also had serious socio-economic repercussions, which we’ll be discussing today -”

Tap-tap-tap.

Barty refused to look away from the monitor, ignoring the shape of a certain crow climbing up on his desk and making his way over, without a care in the world. He was teaching by zoom that day, thanks to bad weather cancelling attendance.

Tap-tap-tap.

He shot Qrow a warning glance once - he did not need to explain to his students that he either had a pet crow or one that let itself inside - before returning to the lecture.

“As we discussed, death caused a serious labour shortage. What land was workable, and not hit hard by drought or excess rain that coincided with that time period had fewer people to tend it, which lead to the ability to negotiate for higher wages, lest they leave for work elsewhere.”

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can qrow help it when the flick of a cursor looks so much like a bug? can he help it when there’s a whole audience that looks bored out of their minds and he has lovely feathers to show off? can. he. help. it. when he came to visit only to find Barty with priorities other than him right now?

no. no he can’t. he ignores that angry look. what else was he supposed to do to entertain himself? he’d already drained his flask dry. which. might be part of the problem. no inhibitions here!

a black beak paps at the screen with curious pecks and beady red eyes peek down over the screen. not just talons now.

tap-tap-tap.

the crow lets out an attentive whistle the moment Barty stops speaking.

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He tried to ignore him. He did. He had a class to teach, and it did not involve boyfriends making themselves into pests and ensuring Barty could not escalate or do much for the fact he didn’t need to look like an utter looney talking to a bird.

“Land owners, faced with the inability to exploit their people, began to start the hardest pushes towards the divide between faunus and human serfs.” He took a break to reach for his coffee, which was apparently what Qrow had been waiting for.

“Do you mind?” He asked, watching Qrow parade in front of the screen.

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classes were boring, and even if qrow remembers every moment Barty made learning more fun for him, he had since come up with his own ways to break the monotony.

this is for the kids, Barty.

he ruffles his feathers from top to bottom, full of indignance at the idea his presence created a nuisance. he is but a handsome bird in too great need of some screen and boyfriend time.

“yeah!” he answers in a warble. he does mind.

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The class certainly seems to agree with Qrow, which is going to trash their attention for the next half an hour… which conveniently puts them at the end of their time period.

Barty rests his chin on his palm and reaches out with the other hand to ruffle and scratch Qrow right behind his crest. “I am trying to teach a class, you little hellion. Class, say hello… to Dusty.”

He’d heard the dusty old crow comment enough. It might as well stick.

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results.

…at a cost!

qrow just barely lets his eyes closed and chest puff in the bliss of good scritches, when Barty pulls out a new name for him; he doubles back with a step back and the snapping of his head forward to fluff his wings out slightly with two sharp, ragged squawks!

he can’t even argue with the sentiment, and that’s the worst part. it’s not his fault he’s still at the tail end of his moult! oh, Barty must be so proud of himself right now, and that grin is about all that makes bearing it worthwhile. the birdbrain still insists on making a show of it for the audacity of insulting his feathers.

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He grins at the sudden squawk, fingers well removed in case Qrow decides he wanted to nip into the bargain. All of his students were laughing, and Barty suspected that he was going to have particular trouble from one student with a penchant for the colour orange, but whatever. Class was done now.

“Oh don’t be like that, Dusty. You’re still a pretty boy,” he said, offering his hand again. “And just imagine how much finer you’ll look when you’re done with molt.”

#* he always did have a thing for investigating the occult = erudite rebel *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* i gave you my life = past *#* unbirdened *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *

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