#sieff fic

[cringyfanfictions]

For Ares, there is no victory. There is only the *brawl*, the moment in battle where there is nothing else. In mortals this window of time is open for longer, while in gods less than a second, but the latter is so much sweeter.

Athena scorns him because she always wins, and her pleasure lies in sharp strategies and she rides high on victory.

She doesn't know why he challenges her again and again and again.

He watches as Athena's eyes slightly lose their sharpness as she becomes absorbed in the fight, as her mind loses its edge and she *attacks*. It's ferocious and beautiful, and he grins and drinks it in like a drop of ambrosia when he's been starving for eons, and then Athena snaps out of it and her blade cleaves down on his own.

Athena's eyes gleam with triumph at the end of the fight, though her mouth stays a rigid line, parting only to spit some scathing remark. They both breathe heavily and the floor is slick with ichor. He doesn't react except to send her a slightly unhinged grin. Let her have her victory. He already had his, in the midst of the battle, when he made the unflappable goddess of wisdom succumb to *his* nature.

#i dont think this is mythologically accurate but #ive had enough of “strength must bow to wisdom” okay #still dont know how to format #sieff fic #sieff mythology fic #greek mythology #ares #athena

[cringyfanfictions]

When Hestia first begged Zeus to make her a virgin, she did it out of desperation. Gods are eternal but their hearts, most of the time, are not.

Marriage benefits from, but does not require, love and respect; and so was Hera's complicated relationship with Zeus. She never laid with another, but faithfulness is a different story altogether.

Hestia didn't care for any of that. She didn't wish to be part of the drama; the heartbreak, the cheating, the jealousy. She preferred to be quietly in the background, tending the flame. So she begged for her life, and Zeus granted her request. No god touched her.

Then the world changed. Mortals, armed by the fire Prometheus had stolen for them, multiplied rapidly and evolved even quicker. Athena and Hephaustus aided them and they creates wonders previously unspoken of with every era. Many matched Daedalus's skill, and many attracted attention from the gods with their beauty.

Demigods swarmed the earth, tempting countless monsters from their chains underground. They tugged, and the chains snapped free and they, too, swarmed the land. Demigods died by thousands, and more monsters surged from the earth, hungry for the sliver of golden ichor flooding in the half-bloods' veins.

Hestia kept her head down. Sometimes she appeared in their dreams, gave them a word or two. Sometimes she burned goblets of nectar in her hearth and directed the smoke to other fireplaces, watched as wounds closed themselves on the wide-eyed demigods huddling for warmth. Sometimes she helped the mortals as well, staving off wild animals and diseases with her flames, and soon they learned to avoid them.

But mostly she fed the flames on her hearth and sighed at the horrible images flickering across the surface.

Then, a camp was made.

At first it was merely a restingplace for three demigods who had somehow found one another. They were covered in wounds and bruises, face and hair matted with dirt, limping and bleeding and exhausted. The first thing they did, after sticking wooden branches around them as a poor defence, was to build a bonfire. They burned monster fat and leaves and prayed fervently to the godly mothers and fathers they never knew, desperate yet hopeful in the way scared children are. Hestia came, and she blessed the area, and when they curled up near the fire - even the one who volunteered to take the first watch sound asleep - she appeared in their dreams as a voice and whispered to their subconscious.

(The bonefire stayed burning all night, warm and glowing.)

The next day when the three woke up, they created a simple sign and stuck it to the ground, with words scrawled in the red of crushed berries:

Camp Half-Blood.

#lmao i found this while looking thru my notes #i think i lost my point midway bc at first its virgin then its chb like whaaat?? #i dont remember anything abt pjo hestia so maybe i shouldnt be writing inaccurate fic abt her #sieff fic #sieff pjo fic #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hestia #camp half blood

[cringyfanfictions]

Soooo I read @thatfanficauthor's oni!tsukishima fic and suddenly had a burst of inspiration out of nowhere.. and wrote fanfiction of their fanfiction. Alas, it was short lived, so I stopped in the middle but I did get this scene in.

Basically, the og fic is about Tsukki being an oni, except they were hunted down a long time ago so now they blend into the human civilization, and if he wears this bracelet then he gets disguised in a human form (but it's uncomfortable to wear it for long), except people keep finding out about him being an oni. My fic is based on the premise (and set before the og fic) but a little darker.

I wanna put it below 'read more' but I'm not sure how the 'read more' works (let's see if this works). So. Here's that scene from canon (the Yamaguchi being bullied scene) but set in the oniverse!

:readmore:

He's walking home from school, steps hasty, when he hears voices from the playground and pauses to look.

A group of kids crowd another who's on the floor, threatening. One of them holds a stick.

"Why's your face so pimply?" One of the kids taunt.

Just bullies. Kei turns away.

"Yeah, and you're so scrawny," another sneers. There's a thump. "You're crying now?"

"Crybaby!"

*Just bullies.*

Kei freezes. He turns slowly. Just bullies, and picking on a kid because what? Because he's pimply? Because he's scrawny?

It dawns on him. Finally, he understands what he's wondered about years ago.

His body *sears*. He's an oni, living under disguise. An *oni*. To be hunted down and killed, to be shunned.

But you don't even need that.

Kei steps closer. The kid being bullied notices him and looks up, tears streaked down his cheeks and welling in his eyes.

There are freckles dotting the kid's face. Just freckles. Plain and harmless. That's all you need to be *different*. All you need to be picked on.

He wonder what they'd do if they see him. Sees his wings, his fangs, his tail. *Kei* is the one who's different, when he's in his house and can stretch out his wings. But these *humans* - they are so desperate to belong that they turn on each other. They are so desperate that they see differences where they don't exist.

*The world is broken.*

He remembers his mother's stories, at least the gist of it. The hunting. The killing. The blood spilled across the land like oil.

Of course they were hunted. What chance would oni stand, if *freckles* are reason enough to be picked on?

There is really only one thing he can say. And he says it, loading as much scorn he can into each syllable, falling crisp from his mouth.

"*Pathetic.*"

#i dont really like the transition for this (my) fic #it doesnt really flow right #maybe ill complete it one day idk who knows #sieff fic #sieff haikyuu fic #fic of a fic #haikyuu #tsukkiyama #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #oniverse #(that sounds nice lol) #oni!tsukishima

[cringyfanfictions]

He misses.

*Pathetic.*

Oikawa grits his teeth as the ball bounces against the floor, the sound amplified by the empty gym. It rolls to a stop.

A second of silence.

Then the crowd *roars* in his mind, the sound distant in memory, and he squeezes his eyes shut and sees the net fluttering, feather-soft, separating the winners from the losers. Their opponents are screaming in joy and leaping on each other's backs in celebration, and Oikawa knows the length of a volleyball court is 18 meters long, so why does it feel like a lifetime away-

He stumbles forward and snatches the ball off the floor, wobbly. The worn synthetic leather can't mask the hardness of the ball, and it sits unyielding in his hand. His fingers dig in, searching for a hint of warmth, comfort. What kind of setter can't even aim at the stupid wall?

He serves, and counts.

Thud. *Atsumu Miya.*

Thud. *Kageyama Tobi-*

The balls flying at him, and he only closes his eyes in time. The impact shoves him to the ground, and he lands hard, polished wood reverberating in his wrists and forearms.

He stays there, eyes shut, chest heaving. Assessing. *Feeling.*

His arms and bottom ache, and his face throbs, especially his nose and mouth where the force of the ball rammed the skin of his lip into his teeth. Something warm trickles down his chin and slips into the fabric of his uniform, soiling it.

Three throws.

*Shittykawa.*

He almost smiles.

It only ever took Iwa one.

#i randomly felt like writing self-harm #and tossed ideas around for a bit then #it became this #tw: self harm #sorta? #when violence reminds u of ur best friend ig #sieff fic #sieff hq fic #haikyuu #oikawa tooru #iwaoi #i feel kinda bad tagging the ship but its sorta kinda iwaoi if u squint a lot #idk how formatting works help #is this even legible