《Trash of the count's family x Percy Jackson and the Olympians fanfiction》 𝑯𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝑨 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒅, 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉. 𝑭𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕, 𝒚𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕, 𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓, 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅'𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍, 𝑯𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍. Chiron's instincts had been right. The attic reeked of dust and prophecy, the Oracle's hollow gaze glowing faintly in the dim light. A crimson shield. A child of Death. Shadows and heroes. The words carved into his mind felt urgent-like a warning, not a mere foretelling. This wasn't just another demigod arriving at Camp Half-Blood. No, this one carried a weight far older, far heavier. And Chiron couldn't shake the feeling that, this time, the camp wasn't just gaining a hero. It was welcoming a storm. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── (Cross-posted on ao3)

A modern girl is reincarnated as Kagura from Inuyasha - a character destined to die. Armed with knowledge of the plot and a will to survive, she tries to escape Naraku's grasp while hiding her true self. But Sesshomaru begins to sense something's different about her... and fate itself starts to unravel.

This here is a crossover fanfiction between Pokémon & That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime, I hope you'll all like this. Story Rating: PG

This will be the first part of a four part series. I hope you all enjoy the books. Disclaimer: I don't own the show, movies, pictures or music.

Do not seek beauty in battle. Do not seek virtue in death. Do not make the mistake of considering only your own life. Probably, it's a relic of the past that the new generation of shinigami are to stil hold on to. Second time having Bleach Fanfiction Disclaimer: All credits belongs to Kubo Tite.

Draco was sadly picking at his plate. It was his fifth year at Hogwarts, but he didn't want to be there, he wanted to be home. Not Malfoy Manor, no Camp Half-Blood. Or In which the Wix discover a new world and secrets about their own. I DON'T OWN HP OR PJO, RIGHTS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS

"You must behave," her brother warned, "or you'll ruin everything." Dragged to Ithaca by her cruel brother Antinous, Y/N is forced to live among the suitors vying for Queen Penelope's hand. Unseen, unheard, and constantly hurt, she survives in silence-until a quiet act of kindness begins to unravel the chains around her heart. In the shadows of the great halls, a bond begins to form between Y/N and Telemachus, the prince of Ithaca-one built not on grand speeches, but on soft glances and secret conversations. With the guidance of Penelope and the silent watch of Athena, Y/N finds strength. Yet bruises still bloom, and secrets still fester in the corners of the palace. But when a single moment of violence shatters the lies holding everything together, love and fury ignite in equal measure. And as Telemachus sets out across the sea to find his father, Y/N is left to protect the queen-and herself-from the growing threat within. When Odysseus finally returns, blood will be spilled, truths revealed, and a new kind of family will rise from the ashes of betrayal. This is the story of a girl who was meant to stay quiet-and the prince who heard her anyway.

The youngest and only daughter of Odysseus, she caught the eye of the great Sun God, Apollo. Only an infant when her father left for the Trojan War, she remained in Ithaca with her mother and brother, anxiously awaiting his return. While her brother received the blessing of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and War, she was not only blessed by Apollo, God of the Sun, Light, Healing, and Archery-she also won his love.

Leona is Bella's older half-sister who comes back from the army to live in Forks. She gets pulled into the world of vampires and shapeshifters yet that world doesn't seem to surprise her. How come?

"We're not friends," you snap, narrowing your eyes into a glare sharp enough to pierce stone. "And stop calling me that." He tilts his head, his curls catching the faint, flickering light of the soul-lamps nearby. "Calling you what, darling?" he asks, his voice smooth and lilting, every syllable soaked in feigned innocence. Your teeth clench so hard it's a wonder they don't crack. Heat rises in your chest, crawling up your neck like an itch you can't quite scratch. His smirk only deepens, clearly reveling in your irritation, and you have to fight the urge to hurl the pair of gardening shears in your hand at his insufferably perfect face." --- Or, you are the immortal servant to Hades and Persephone, and Hermes cannot help himself but to get under your skin.