Two very different people fall in love with a boy called death. Finding each other is chance. Falling for each other isn’t. This is their story. (Or in which Nico is Death with a capital D, Annabeth is a serial killer, and Percy is the poor schmuck who falls for both of them.)

Growing up in the Mafia isn't necessarily an easy or kind thing. The earth spins, life moves on, and Tsuna finds himself taking slow steps forward, back and forward again. (Or, ten times that Tsuna remembers it being easier to have sex with Xanxus rather than dealing with the insanity of the world around him)

Edward grabs Marcoh’s arm and says, “That stone – what can it heal, exactly?” The old man’s eyebrows rise to his forehead, and he looks like he already knows the answer when he goes, “Why do you ask, Edward?” There's no metallic footsteps so there’s no way Al’s close enough to hear them. “I’m sick,” he admits after another moment of deliberation.