Perseus Jackson was left in an orphanage in London when he was just one years old until a man with cold red eyes and a snake as a familiar came and took him away. What will happen to the world's most loyal hero? will he create his own path? Or will he rule the wizarding world as the heir of lord Voldemort. #PLEASE BE AWARE THAT I WROTE THIS LITERALLY AGES AGO AND SO THERE MIGHT BE A LOT OF GRAMMAR ISSUES AND PLOT HOLES, I SUGGEST SKIPPING TO THE THIRD BOOK IF THAT'S SOMETHING THAT BOTHERS U#

Altaïr Ibn-La'ahad x Reader Warnings: Violence, Angst, Sexual Content You were trained at a young age in the ways of the Assassins. However, all of your training had been done in secret without the knowledge of the Brotherhood. One of the Order, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, has discovered your existence and now you must take steps to decide where you want events to lead.

Éomer, King of Rohan, has had many losses in his life; of his family only his sister Éowyn survived the Ring War. So he decides that in the future he will guard his heart better and thus avoid further hurt. However, he also needs to find a wife. Luckily there is an answer to his problem: that wonderful Gondorian invention, a marriage of convenience... A tale of loss, love and limpets.

Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth finds her peace of mind disturbed by the arrival of a courier from Rohan. What she does not realize, however, is the fact that this is only the beginning... A tale of carpets, cabbages and cold water.

The year before the Ring War, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth is sent to Rohan by her father to seek shelter from the storm brewing in Mordor. There she meets Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Unfortunately they do not hit it off...at first.

#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione || In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to another, in which the 'bad guy' becomes 'good.' Perhaps it was the cruel mistreatment of Tom Marvolo Riddle as a child, or maybe it was the bloodline of Slytherin's heir himself that made the boy into the 'monster' who cannot be named. Or, perhaps it was simply because he did not know that his heart would beat in such a frenzy, that his cheeks would redden like a crimson rose, and that his normally-calm facade would melt under the simple gaze of the time-travelling heroine. If I were to bet, I'd say it's the latter. But it matters not why Voldemort could not love, for this is not a story about Voldemort. This is the story of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and how he came into direct conflict and company with the 'brightest witch of her age' ... fifty-years ahead. This is the story of love's recognition, in which the force does not suddenly develop between two people, but a poignant emotion, different for each individual, is uniquely described to be 'love.' Maybe Tom Riddle never loved, much like that of Voldemort. However, as one chooses to stubbornly believe, love existed for Tom Marvolo Riddle as long as he chose to believe that he loved Hermione Jean Granger. ////// NO TRANSLATIONS ARE BEING ALLOWED AT THIS TIME DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters detailed in this book, nor any of the quotations and plot taken from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." They belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. I do not own the individual graphics in the cover, although I do own the composition/compilation of the cover. The media I post belongs to its owners. \\\\\\

A mysterious death. A life in the balance. When do the ends justify the means? John Watson wants nothing more than to head home to 221B and have a hot cuppa, but Sherlock Holmes has other plans. The famous composer, Rebecca Frost, has died. Her elderly butler insists she was murdered. Sherlock takes on the case, only to face the additional complication of Vivian Walker - the unexpected heir to the Frost Estate. Someone wants her dead, and it's up to Sherlock and John to protect her, whether the stubborn woman wants their help or not. But more than one danger threatens her life. Solving this mystery and keeping Vivian safe may prove their greatest challenge yet. Book One of the Hooked on a Feeling series *** This novel is AU, as it was written prior to the release of Sherlock Series 3. As a result, there is no Mary, Sherlock's parents are very different, and Moriarty isn't back. Sherlock has returned following The Reichenbach Fall, and he and John have repaired their friendship. There will be no romantic relationship between the two, only brotherly love between the best of friends. There will be bickering though. Loads of it. There will also be moments of angst, hints of a developing romance (Sherlock/OC), and of course an intriguing mystery. If that's your cuppa tea, then put your feet up and relax. You're in for a treat! You can expect a new chapter posted every Friday. Happy Reading!

My following words of yore and spite may shock you to the very core. They acknowledge a fact known to few, and even less, known to heart. But please, by the whim of mind and patience of soul, I beseech you to listen all the clear. Tolkien's tale of Middle Earth has fallen from its original translation. His story of Thorin Oakenshield's company once bore truth, but fate was reconstructed in light of a prophecy: The girl born of flame, fostered by the dwarves, royal in her name, and her child's birth. She is the one and only protector of Middle Earth, guardian over Mordor, savior of our royal dwarf. Her knowledge will be countered by family's unknown survival, though fate will turn it right as in sacrifice of her royal line. It isn't just a story, but the Valar's greatest mistake; let the heavens toll loud to save Durin's sons After the war of the ring and the destruction of Sauron, the Valar decided to repeat the past, starting at the union of the company within a small hobbit hole in the typically quiet Shire. Why, you may ask, did they decide to do this? Originally, the Valar had ignored the prophecy stated above (as they had done in the past), allowing the Durin line to be exterminated by the Pale Orc, Azog. However, the reign of Dain and his heirs as they took Erebor's throne turned out to be heartless and cruel, unlike the intended fate of Erebor foretold. Therefore, the Valar decided to turn back the clock, 60 years, giving Gandalf the idea to invite the "girl of fire" to the meeting in Hobbiton. Indeed, this did bring about the intended fate of the Lonely Mountain as well as infinite happiness to the company of heroic dwarves. This is her story, as she sacrificed her line in saving Durin. Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story except for Erudian, Sidel, and Typhon as well as any events or dialogue I added. The remaining content is credited to J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson. All pictures belong to their respective owners

~ W A T T P A D F E A T U R E D ~ A Natasha Romanoff & Clint Barton origin story. ❝My name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova and I work for the KGB. But my life is something of a lie. I work for no one. I work for myself. And I always work alone. I have a very specific skill set. I have charm. I have wit. I have sex appeal. I play to the common weaknesses of men, pulling them in on an invisible thread, ensnaring them in my inescapable web and striking mercilessly like a poisonous spider. For that reason, they call me the Black Widow. I'm cunning, ruthless and utterly unstoppable. I am a one woman fighting machine. I can do more damaged unarmed than most people could do armed. ❞ ❝My name is Clinton Francis Barton and I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm the deadliest agent they have on a squad of suits and scientists. I'm the masked vigilante with a bow and arrow and I never miss. I have keen eyes. I have perfect aim. I have agility. I can shoot down any adversary from any distance, and they never see me coming. They call me Hawkeye, because I have the vision of a bird of prey and I strike just as precisely. I'm strong, I'm dexterous and utterly remarkable. I'm a one man invasion. I can cause more destruction with a Palaeolithic weapon than most people can do with a gun.❞ Two nomadic souls; one American, one Russian. Completely unlike one another. Or so they think. This is a tale of prejudice, politics and passion in Budapest. #60 in Fanfiction (23/10/2015)

"The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone When Durin woke and walked alone. He named the nameless hills and dells; He drank from yet untasted wells; He stooped and looked in Mirrormere, And saw a crown of stars appear." You could say Endor Baggins's life was the complete opposite of her uncle Bilbo's. Having grown up as the proper hobbit, with no "trouble in an adventurous spirit," she was highly praised by strangers and hobbits alike. That is, until her father and mother died in a tragic incident. The Shirefolk would forever blame shock for Endor's dramatic change, although she remembers the shift as the revelation of her true character. Indeed, whereas Bilbo transformed from adventurous to reserved, Endor moved from conservative to travel-frenzied. And her little brother of three years, Frodo, had no tether on her actions. After all, Bilbo was there to look after her sibling as she travelled the West for months at a time. With this change in spirit, it came as no surprise when she demanded to accompany her uncle in his visit to Erebor, thirty-three years after his departure from the Company. After all, it had been Bilbo whom she idolized: her courageous uncle who reclaimed a mountain from a dragon with a rogue band of dwarves. This was a simple visit to a distant land, yet the journey made a second hobbit into legend. And thus, her story begins when she took her first true step, from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain, hobbits to dwarves, past to future, and loneliness to love. DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters in this story other than Endor Baggins, nor do I own the settings. These rights are reserved to J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson. I don't own the media I post, as they belong to their respective owners. I do not own the cover picture; it belongs to its respective owner(s). I don't own the "Song of Durin" lyrics above; they belong to Tolkien.