"Sorry for the bother. I'm Percy, son of Poseidon. Now tell me kiddo, what's your name?" There were still some murmurs in the group of campers. "Thalassa", I answered. He looked back at the pegasi and said, "Yes, Blackjack. You'll get doughnuts later." Then he turned to me and said, "You know Thalassa, Blackjack and Guido seem to be very fond of you." It took me a moment to realise he talked to Blackjack and I blurted, "You can understand them too?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A few months after the war, a new fourteen year old demigod named Thalassa shows up at Camp Half-Blood. She was claimed by Poseidon and immediately picks up on the tension between Nico di Angelo and Will Solace. Thalassa, Jason, and Percy attempt to get the two oblivious campers together while she has to deal with her own problems. That would be the following: 1. There is a certain camper who catches her eye. 2. The camp treats her like an outcast. 3. She is included in a prophecy no one understands. Rick Riordan owns all characters except Thalassa and Màgos.

What would you say, if a stranger wanted to buy you? And what would you say if the stranger offered you a Billion Dollars? Ella goes to an expensive school she can't afford. Ash's rich, but his Dad's making him marry, to curb his wild side. And Ash's revenge? Tie the knot with some lower-class girl instead. When Fate makes these two people meet, Ash decides buys Ella, for one Billion Dollars. Screw Cinderella-this is Ella's story.

[THIS IS A SAMPLE] Read the full story on Radish fiction. The link is in my Wattpad Bio. ---- Alexander isn't your typical nerd. He'll say what he wants, do what he wants, and verbally bash you while doing it. That's what Travis, a soccer player assigned to be tutored by Alexander, hates most about him. Confusing feelings, a drunken party, and a month of tutoring was all it took to get Travis to realize he was head over heels for the sharp-tongued Alex. Now, if only he knew where Alex's sarcasm switch was.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.