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Percy Jackson: The Firstborn

Brotato_potato
https://discord.gg/JqCZfXSK Kronos and Rhea had seven children, not six. With the help of the firstborn, the Gods win the war, but unfortunately, he had to leave his family behind because of Zeus' paranoia. Only to come back one thousand years later, and what he finds is almost insulting. The pantheon that he called home is a mess: gods obsessed with titles, politics, and ego, more focused on power plays than protecting what they claim to own. Family means nothing when thrones are involved, and “justice” is whatever the strongest decides that day. This story takes place in the High School DxD world, long before the anime begins. Canon will take part later Yes, this is harem, but don’t expect the MC to smash everything he sees. He will have fun, though, just not like an idiot. Along the way, the story will also collide with the Naruto era in the search for power and peace. Inspired by a fic I read. Give it a chance, you might like it. And if you have suggestions or ideas, drop them. This is my first fic.
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The Wolf’s Queen Vows

[+18 Matured| Triggering| Explicit Content] BOOK ONE OF THE “RECLAIMING HER FATE” SERIES “Wealth, crown, wild, and heart. Together they rise, or together they fall.” Heiress of the First Werewolf Kingdom, Aveloria Valenor was betrayed, rejected, and slain in her first life. Reborn by the Moon Goddess, she vows to change her fate, only to discover she has not just one mate, but four: the one who once doomed her, the one whose power could save her, the one who tempts her freedom, and the one who has always loved her. Bound by prophecy, hunted by dark shadows, Aveloria must either choose to unite her Tetrabond or see the world consumed by darkness. EXCERPT He groaned against her lips, a low growl that sent shivers down her spine, and she kissed him back with equal fire, matching his rhythm and hunger. Their breaths tangle, shallow and uneven. His large hand grabbed her neck, tilting her head up as he deepened the kiss, causing her pulse to race beneath his touch and her body to ache for his. When they finally parted, Aveloria’s breath trembled. Their foreheads rested together, breathing ragged and lips swollen. Neither spoke. Words would have ruined it, that wild, reckless pull that said they were already too far gone. She looked at him, the one who had saved her, the one who shouldn’t have been hers, and for a moment, everything made sense. But the guilt came next to the reality. She stepped back, her heart racing. “I have to tell you something.” His expression shifted. “What is it?” “There are others.” “Others?” “Mates,” she said quietly. “Three.” He froze. “You’re serious?” She nodded. “I didn’t choose them. It just happened.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I thought those were just rumors. No one believed it.” “I wish they were.” His jaw tightened, but he laughed softly, shaking his head. “Of course. The Moon gives me a mate; she already has three others. That sounds about right for my luck.” Aveloria swallowed, guilt pressing at her chest. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He looked at her again, calmer this time. “Neither did I.”
Ink_Enchantress · 33.2k Views

The Immortal’s Ink: Strokes of Longing

Mo Yuan was one step away from shattering the heavens. As the supreme Immortal Ascendant Emperor, he had sacrificed everything to reach the peak of the Outer Void Battlefield—only to be stabbed in the back by his wife and sworn brother during his final tribulation. ​His cultivation bone ripped out. His fortune stolen. His life extinguished. ​When he opens his eyes again, the blood-soaked Emperor finds himself in a familiar, sunlit room. He has regressed back to his youth as a frail mortal, the son of a poor village carpenter. His family, who died tragically in his past life, is alive and well. ​Exhausted by a millennium of slaughter, Mo Yuan makes a vow: no cultivation, no revenge, no fighting. He only wants to live a quiet life and pursue the dream he never had time for in his past life—becoming a painter. ​But the Universe refuses to let a supreme sovereign live as a mortal. ​Mo Yuan has no formal painting skills, but his soul carries the weight of a supreme Emperor. Without realizing it, his crude, clumsy brushstrokes leak terrifying "Supreme Dao Intent." A simple sparrow painted on a block of wood terrifies outer sect disciples into madness. A crumpled ball of ink thrown into the snow forcibly brings spring to a dead winter. A painting of the night sky accidentally eclipses the real moon, sending ancient sects into widespread panic. ​Mo Yuan thinks he is just bad at mixing ink. The cultivation world thinks a primordial god has descended. ​Yet, fate is cruel. Despite his terrifying hidden power, he cannot stop the tragic gears of the heavens. When his peaceful life is inevitably turned to ash, Mo Yuan does not pick up a sword. He picks up his brush. ​Using the ashes of his ruined home, he steps onto a new, forbidden path of cultivation. He is a wandering artist, a "Pain Carrier," whose masterpieces can heal severed realms, summon primordial beasts, or act as weapons that slice through reality itself. He doesn't cultivate for immortality, nor does he care for revenge against those who betrayed him. ​He cultivates through longing. And when the heavens try to take the one woman who truly loves the artist rather than the Emperor, Mo Yuan will paint a path straight through the Outer Void, defying the entire universe to get her back.
sunshine_flower · 7k Views