18 Works by becomings
Listing Works
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The sun is beaming above, creating a backdrop of blinding light against a kid who’s grinning just as brightly. An angel, he thinks absently, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the overwhelming vision.
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born from mortals and the divine, half-bloods that aren’t part of the one percent that are ogled and fawned over for their heritage, are deemed cursed and nuisances to society. there is no special trophy for them, no golden star for being a different breed.
the day akaashi keiji discovered the golden blood coursing through his veins, his perspective on the world shifted.
OR:
four times akaashi keiji learns of his worth as a divine individual through a mortal boy, and the one time he realizes it all on his own.
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someone’s giggling in the background, muffled but sweet in sound.
it takes them a moment to realize who it’s coming from, three heads turning simultaneously to blink owlishly at kita, who’s smile is so bright as he throws back his head and laughs, looking absolutely radiant in the light of orange and red flames.
there may as well be a gold laurel wreath encircling his head, shining as brilliantly as he is now.
Series
- Part 4 of campfire stories
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he can’t help glancing at what they left behind. something hobbles along the road, too far away to make out details. he knows what it is though. they both do.
a broad hand presses insistently at the small of his back. go, it says. he clutches at the straps of his backpack. miya pushes. he walks.
he thinks that if it was quiet enough, he’d be able to hear the scrapping of flesh against concrete.
akaashi keiji learns what it means to survive under the black dawn.
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sometimes, you can find reassurances and comfort in the confusions of growing up.
Series
- Part 3 of campfire stories
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“keiji.”
a quiet hum is the response.
he stares, amused eyes trailing slowly over the slopes of soft cheeks, the tip of a nose, the flash of pretty blue-grey as the beautiful man in front of him enjoys the dinner osamu lovingly prepared.
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two words.
two, hoarse words spoken into the humid air, puffed out past red lips and met with dazed eyes.
“drink me.” it’s a desperate, whiny proclamation, punctured with a hitch of breath and trembling thighs. if he were human, he probably wouldn’t have caught it. might’ve missed the plea, might’ve missed such a delicious opportunity presenting itself before him. if he were human.
but he’s not.
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“who did this to you?” it’s a low rumble of a question, barely audible as keiji shrugs his hand off and looks away, again wondering why he is here, in miya osamu’s home, of all places. he should leave. he needs to walk out right now. this was a terrible idea, fraternizing with the enemy, hoping for some twisted sort of compassion.
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keiji hums, placing a single finger on a line, a simple action meant to hold his place in the book before he’s turning his full attention to atsumu. he still wears that little smile, as if he’s got a secret that he’ll let atsumu in on, eventually.
atsumu feels like the secret is unfolding right in front of him.
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the sea is a cruel destination.
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keiji tilts his head towards the sun, eyes slipping shut as he unabashedly basks in the warmth. someone lent him one of those floppy sun hats, and while it feels and looks rather ridiculous, he agrees that it is a necessity while spending time in the strawberry fields. a gentle smile stretches itself across his mouth, and he relishes this moment of serenity. of peace. of appreciating nature and the outdoors.
it’s not often he gets to relax. their lives aren’t meant to be easy. every demigod knows this. it’s embedded in their systems, a twisted fight or flight mechanism that brings havoc and misfortune wherever they go, no matter how hard they try to fix things. he of all people understands this. he of all people should know the misfortunes.
Series
- Part 2 of campfire stories
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osamu wants to show his appreciation.
obviously, the way to a man’s heart is through chocolate. -
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akaashi works late. osamu has had enough. he takes matters into his own hands.
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he can’t help but watch, standing a few feet away from the kneeling man, entranced at the gentle movements. how he was careful to tend the flowers budding, how his fingers flitted between the soil and stems, as if this were a job designed for him only.
the urge to pick one of these sweetly scented blossoms is stomped down, along with the twinge of an ache to give away his pickings to the one kneeling, though nothing good could come from the sentiment. nothing good could come from such a gesture.
iwaizumi's heart is made of porcelain. delicate. untouched. protected from danger. akaashi's heart is made of steel. smooth. blunt. cold to touch. it was only a matter of time. -
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“Breathe, Keiji.” It’s soft but firm, a rumble deep in Osamu's chest that only tightens the knot around Akaashi’s own. They don’t move, staring at each other, a clash of gunmetal blue and rocket metal gray against the darkness.
Why. Why? Why is he being so kind? He didn’t deserve this, not when Miya was fairing off so much worse than him right now. But the kindness in his eyes, even in the dim light of the campfire, shines so brightly.
Series
- Part 1 of campfire stories
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skeletal butterflies by becomings
Fandoms: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
28 Jan 2021
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Three times Nico di Angelo feels something akin to butterflies in his stomach.
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to dream a dream of a loved one.
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“Can I try?” It breaks this cozy silence that’s settled between them, a hazy expression having washed over the other’s face somewhere along the way. He squints at the boy, silver hair nearly glowing with the sunlight streaming from the window behind him. Another breathtaking sight, and one he can’t quite tear his gaze from this time. He wets his lips, pushing a scratchy voice out through a dry throat.
“Have you ever done anything like this before?” It’s a sincere question. While Suga is sometimes known for doing crazy stunts in leagues with some of the more rambunctious team members, Daichi is rather unsure if he’s ever actually been high before. If so, they’d have to take things slow.