KID WATCHING THE VIDEO: This guy’s not not tied to his rope… this - dude, this guy’s crazy, does he have a death wish or somethin’? Oh my gosh! Doesn’t he have like a wife and kids at home???
[parachute opens up to reveal it is rainbow]
KID, IN EXACT SAME TONE: Doesn’t he have a husband and kids at home???
Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Reader) - Chapter 4
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
On the central green, a group of campers are playing basketball. Those are incredible shots, Piper thinks. Nothing bounces off the rim; three pointers go in automatically.
"Apollo's cabin," Annabeth explains. "Bunch of showoffs with missile weapons - arrows, basketball."
They walk past a central fire pit, where two people - Piper didn't want to assume - are hacking at each other with swords.
"Real blades?" Piper notes. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"That's sort of the point," Annabeth replies. "Uh, sorry. Bad pun. That's my cabin over there. Number Six." She nods to a gray building with a carved owl over the door. Through the open doorway, Piper can see bookshelves, weapon displays, and one of those computerized SMART Boards they have in classrooms. Two girls are drawing a map that looks like a battle diagram. "Speaking of blades," Annabeth says, "come here." She leads Piper around the side of the cabin, to a big metal shed that looks like it is meant for gardening tools. Annabeth unlocks it, and inside are not gardening tools. Piper adds, Unless you want to make war on your tomato plants. The shed is lined with all sorts of weapons - from swords to spears to clubs like Coach Hedge's. "Every demigod needs a weapon," Annabeth says. "Hephaestus makes the best, but we have a pretty good selection, too. Athena's all about strategy -matching the right weapon to the right person. Let's see . . ."
Piper doesn't feel much like shopping for deadly objects, but she knows Annabeth is trying to do something nice for her.
Annabeth hands her a massive sword, which Piper can hardly lift.
"No," they both say at once.
Annabeth rummages a little farther in the shed and brings out something else.
"A shotgun?" Piper asked.
"Is that a Mossberg 500?" a voice says, and Piper turns, and for some reason, she's really excited to see the person - and it wasn't the person she thought she'd be so excited to see.
"You remember that?" Annabeth asks, handing (Y/n) the shotgun; she checks the pump action like it's no big deal.
"Something about my mom," (Y/n) replies, and then she winces, as though her head was hurting her.
"A Lastrygonian giant," Annabeth says gently. "And don't worry, Piper," she catches the cautious look Piper is throwing the shotgun. "It doesn't hurt humans. It's modified to shoot Celestial bronze, so it only kills monsters."
"Um, I don't think that's my style," Piper replies.
"Mmm, yeah," Annabeth agrees. "Too flashy." She takes the shotgun back, puts it away, and starts poking through a rack of crossbows when something in the corner of the shed catches Piper's eye.
"What is that?" she asks. "A knife?"
Annabeth digs it out and blows the dust off the scabbard. It looks like it hadn't seen the light of day in centuries.
"I don't know, Piper." Annabeth sounds uneasy. "I don't think you want this one. Swords are usually better."
"You use a knife." Piper points to the one strapped to Annabeth's belt.
"Yeah, but ..." Annabeth shrugs. "Well, take a look if you want."
The sheath is worn black leather, bound in bronze. Nothing fancy, nothing flashy. The polished wood handle fits beautifully in Piper's hand. When she unsheathes it, she finds a triangular blade eighteen inches long - bronze gleaming like it had been polished yesterday. The edges were deadly sharp. Her reflection in the blade catches her by surprise. She looks older, more serious, not as scared as she felt.
"It suits you," Annabeth admits. "That kind of blade is called a parazonium. It was mostly ceremonial, carried by high-ranking officers in the Greek armies. It showed you were a person of power and wealth, but in a fight, it could protect you just fine."
"I like it," Piper glows. "Why didn't you think it was right?"
Annabeth exhales. "That blade has a long story. Most people would be afraid to claim it. Its first owner . . . well, things didn't turn out too well for her. Her name was Helen."
Piper lets that sink in. "Wait, you mean the Helen? Helen of Troy?"
Annabeth nods.
Suddenly Piper feels like she should be handling the dagger with surgical gloves. "And it's just sitting in your toolshed?"
"We're surrounded by Ancient Greek stuff," Annabeth replies. "This isn't a museum. Weapons like that—they're meant to be used. They're our heritage as demigods. That was a wedding present from Menelaus, Helen's first husband. She named the dagger Katoptris."
"Meaning?"
"Mirror," Annabeth says. "Looking glass. Probably because that's the only thing Helen used it for. I don't think it's ever seen battle."
Piper looks at the blade again. For a moment, her own image stares up at her, but then the reflection changes. She sees flames, and a grotesque face like something carved from bedrock. She hears the same laughter as in her dream. She sees her dad in chains, tied to a post in front of a roaring bonfire.
She drops the blade.
"Piper?" (Y/n) asks worriedly, taking a step forward.
Annabeth shouts to the Apollo kids on the court, "Medic! I need some help over here!"
"No, it's - it's okay," Piper manages.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I just . . ." She had to control herself. With trembling fingers, she picks up the dagger.
"I just got overwhelmed. So much happening today. But . . . I want to keep the dagger, if that's okay."
Annabeth hesitates. Then she waves off the Apollo kids. "Okay, if you're sure. You turned really pale, there. I thought you were having a seizure or something."
"I'm fine," Piper promises, though her heart is still racing.
. . .
Piper thinks that all the cabins are cool, but none of them strike Piper as hers. No burning signs - wombats or otherwise - appear over her head.
Cabin Eight is entirely silver and glows like moonlight. "Artemis?" Piper guesses.
"You know Greek mythology," Annabeth replies.
"I did some reading when my dad was working on a project last year."
"I thought he did Cherokee art."
Piper bites back a curse. "Oh, right. But—you know, he does other stuff too."
Piper thinks she'd blown it: McLean, Greek mythology. Thankfully, Annabeth doesn't seem to make the connection.
"Anyway," Annabeth continues, "Artemis is goddess of the moon, goddess of hunting. But no campers. Artemis was an eternal maiden, so she doesn't have any kids."
"Oh." That kind of bums Piper out. She'd always liked the stories of Artemis, and figured she would make a cool mom.
"Well, there are the Hunters of Artemis," Annabeth amends. "They visit sometimes. They're not the children of Artemis, but they're her handmaidens - this band of immortal teenage girls who adventure together and hunt monsters and stuff."
Piper perks up. "That sounds cool. They get to be immortal?"
"Unless they die in combat, or break their vows. Did I mention they have to swear off love? No dating - ever. For eternity."
"Oh," Piper says. "Never mind."
Annabeth laughs. For a moment, she looks almost happy, and Piper thinks she'd be a cool friend to hang out with in better times.
Forget it, Piper reminds herself. You're not going to make any friends here. Not once they find out.
The trio passes the next cabin, which is decorated like a Barbie house with lace curtains, a pink door, and potted carnations in the windows. They walk by the doorway, and the smell of perfume almost makes Piper gag.
"Gah, is that where supermodels go to die?"
Annabeth smirks. "Aphrodite's cabin. Goddess of love. Drew is the head counselor."
"Figures," Piper grumbles.
"They're not all bad," Annabeth says. "The last head counselor we had was great."
"What happened to her?"
"She died, didn't she?" (Y/n) asks, a pain piercing her head again.
Annabeth's expression saddens, "We should keep moving."
They look at the other cabins, but Piper just gets more depressed. She wonders if she could be the daughter of Demeter, the farming goddess. Then again, Piper killed every plant she ever touched. Athena was cool. Or maybe Hecate, the magic goddess. But it doesn't really matter. Even here, where everyone was supposed to find a lost parent, she knows she would still end up the unwanted kid. She is not looking forward to the campfire tonight.
"We started with the twelve Olympian gods," Annabeth explains. "Male gods on the left, female on the right. Then last year, we added a whole bunch of new cabins for the other gods who didn't have thrones on Olympus - Hecate, Hades, Iris -"
"What are the two big ones on the end?" Piper asks.
Annabeth frowns. "Zeus and Hera. King and queen of the gods."
Piper heads that way, and Annabeth follows, though she doesn't act very excited. The Zeus cabin reminds Piper of a bank. It is white marble with big columns out front and polished bronze doors emblazoned with lightning bolts. Hera's cabin is smaller but done in the same style, except the doors are carved with peacock feather designs, shimmering in different colors.
Unlike the other cabins, which are all noisy and open and full of activity, the Zeus and Hera cabins look closed and silent.
"Are they empty?" Piper asks.
Annabeth nods. "Zeus went a long time without having any children. Well, mostly. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, the eldest brothers among the gods - they're called the Big Three. Their kids are really powerful, really dangerous. For the last seventy years or so, they tried to avoid having demigod children."
"Tried to avoid it?"
"Sometimes they . . . um, cheated. I've got a friend, Thalia Grace, who's the daughter of Zeus. But she gave up camp life and became a Hunter of Artemis. My boyfriend, Percy, and (Y/n), they're Poseidon's kids. And there's a kid who shows up sometimes, Nico - son of Hades. Except for them, there are no demigod children of the Big Three gods. At least, not that we know of."
"And Hera?" Piper looks at the peacock-decorated doors. The cabin bothers her, though she wasn't sure why.
"Goddess of marriage." Annabeth's tone is carefully controlled, like she's trying to avoid cursing. "She doesn't have kids with anyone but Zeus. So, yeah, no demigods. The cabin's just honorary."
"You don't like her," Piper notices.
"We have a long history," Annabeth admits. "I thought we'd made peace, but when you and Percy," Annabeth nods to (Y/n), "disappeared . . . I got this weird dream vision from her."
"Telling you to come get us," Piper realizes. "And you thought Percy and (Y/n) would be there."
"It's probably better I don't talk about it," Annabeth says. "I've got nothing good to say about Hera right now."
Piper looks down the base of the doors. "So who goes in here?"
"No one. The cabin is just honorary, like I said. No one goes in."
"Someone does." Piper points at a footprint on the dusty threshold. On instinct, she pushes the doors and they swing open easily.
Annabeth steps back. "Um, Piper, I don't think we should - "
"We're supposed to do dangerous stuff, right?" And Piper walks inside.
. . .
Hera's cabin was not someplace Piper would want to live. It's as cold as a freezer, with a circle of white columns around a central statue of the goddess, ten feet tall, seated on a throne in flowing golden robes. Piper had always thought of Greek statues as white with blank eyes, but this one is brightly painted so it looks almost human - except huge. Hera's piercing eyes seem to follow Piper.
At the goddess's feet, a fire burns in a bronze brazier. Piper wonders who tended it if the cabin was always empty. A stone hawk sits on Hera's shoulder, and in her hand is a staff topped with a lotus flower. The goddess's hair is done in black plaits. Her face smiles, but the eyes were cold and calculating, as if she was saying: Mother knows best. Now don't cross me or I will have to step on you.
There is nothing else in the cabin - no beds, no furniture, no bathroom, no windows, nothing that anyone could actually use to live. For a goddess of home and marriage, Hera's place reminds Piper of a tomb.
No, this wasn't her mom. At least Piper is sure of that. She hadn't come in here because she felt a good connection, but because her sense of dread had been stronger here. Her dream - that horrible ultimatum she'd been handed - had something to do with this cabin.
She freezes. They aren't alone. Behind the statue, at a little altar in the back, stands a figure covered in a black shawl. Only her hands are visible, palms up. She seemed to be chanting something like a spell or a prayer.
There is a shink sound, and Piper turns to see that (Y/n) had drawn her sword, and the glimmering bronze weapon is balanced easily in her friend's hand.
Annabeth, however, exclaims. "Rachel?"
The other girl turns. She drops her shawl, revealing a mane of curly red hair and a freckled face that doesn't go with the seriousness of the cabin or the black shawl at all. She looks about seventeen, a totally normal teen in a green blouse and tattered jeans covered with marker doodles; despite the cold floor, she is barefoot.
There is another shink and (Y/n)'s sword slips back into pen-form.
"Hey!" the girl, Rachel, runs to give Annabeth a hug.
They talk for a few minutes about Annabeth's boyfriend and how there was no news, etcetera, until finally Annabeth remembers Piper and (Y/n), who are standing there feeling uncomfortable.
Rachel's eyes light up at the sight of the daughter of Poseidon. "I'm glad you're safe," she gives (Y/n) a tight hug, and Piper swallows back an unfamiliar feeling that she can't quite place.
(Y/n) smiles politely, returning the hug.
"I was being rude," Annabeth apologizes. "Rachel, this is Piper, one of the half-bloods we rescued today. Piper, this is Rachel Elizabeth Dare, our oracle."
"The friend in the cave," Piper guesses.
Rachel grins. "That's me."
"More like the future mugs me from time to time," Rachel says. "I speak prophecies. The oracle's spirit kind of hijacks me every once in a while and speaks important stuff that doesn't make any sense to anybody. But yeah, the prophecies tell the future."
"Oh." Piper shifts from foot to foot. "That's cool."
Rachel laughs. "Don't worry. Everybody finds it a little creepy. Even me. But usually I'm harmless."
"You're a demigod?"
"Nope," Rachel replies. "Just mortal."
"Then what are you . . ." Piper waves her hand around the room.
Rachel's smile fades. She glances at Annabeth, then back at Piper. "Just a hunch. Something about this cabin and Percy's disappearance. They're connected somehow. I've learned to follow my hunches, especially the last month, since the gods went silent."
"Went silent?" (Y/n) asks, her brow furrowing, causing a scar cutting said eyebrow to almost disappear.
Rachel frowns at Annabeth. "You haven't told her yet?"
"I was getting to that," Annabeth replies. "For the last month . . . well, it's normal for the gods not to talk to their children very much, but usually we can count on some messages now and then. Some of us can even visit Olympus. I spent practically all semester at the Empire State Building."
"Excuse me?" Piper asks, bewildered.
"The entrance to Mount Olympus these days."
"Oh," Piper replies. "Sure, why not?"
"Annabeth was redesigning Olympus after it was damaged in the Titan War," Rachel explains. "She's an amazing architect. You should see the salad bar -"
"Anyway," Annabeth continues, "starting about a month ago, Olympus fell silent. The entrance closed, and no one could get in. Nobody knows why. It's like the gods have sealed themselves off. Even my mom won't answer my prayers, and our camp director, Dionysus, was recalled."
"Your camp director was the god of . . . wine?" Piper asks
"Yeah, it's a -"
"Long story," Piper guesses. "Right. Go on."
"That's it, really," Annabeth says. "Demigods still get claimed, but nothing else. No messages. No visits. No sign the gods are even listening. It's like something has happened - something really bad. Then Percy and (Y/n) disappeared."
"And Jason and (Y/n) showed up on our field trip," Piper supplies. "With no memory."
"Who's Jason?" Rachel asks.
"My -" Piper stops herself before she could say 'boyfriend.' "My friend. But Annabeth, you said Hera sent you a dream vision."
"Right," Annabeth says. "The first communication from a god in a month, and it's Hera, the least helpful goddess, and she contacts me, her least favorite demigod. She tells me I'll find out what happened to Percy and (Y/n), if I go to the Grand Canyon skywalk and look for a guy with one shoe. Instead, I found you guys, and the guy with one shoe is Jason. It doesn't make sense."
"Something bad is happening," Rachel agrees.
Rachel looks at Piper, and Piper feels an overwhelming desire to tell them about her dream, to confess that she knows what is happening - at last part of the story. And the bad stuff is only just beginning.
"Guys," she begins. "I - I need to -"
Before she can continue, Rachel's body stiffens. Her eyes begin to grow with a greenish light, and she grabs Piper by the shoulders.
Piper tries to back away, but Rachel's hands are like steel clamps.
"Free me," Rachel says, but the voice isn't Rachel's. It sounds like a much older woman, speaking from somewhere far away, down a long, echoing pipe. "Free me, Piper McLean, or the earth shall swallow us. It must be by the solstice."
The room starts spinning. Annabeth and (Y/n) try to separate Piper from Rachel, but it was no use. Green smoke envelopes them, and Piper is no longer sure if she's awake or dreaming. The giant statue of the goddess seems to rise from its throne. It leans over Piper, boring its eyes into her. The statue's mouth opens, its breath like horribly thick perfume. It speaks in the same echoing voice: "Our enemies stir. The fiery one is only the first. Bow to his will, and their king shall rise, dooming us all. FREE ME!"
Piper's knees buckle, and her world goes black. The last thing she remembers is someone catching her before she can hit the ground.
. . .
The front doors of the Big House blow open, and Annabeth and Rachel lead (Y/n) - who was carrying an unconscious Piper - into the room.
"What happened?" Jason asks. "What's wrong with her?"
"Hera's cabin," Annabeth gasps, like they'd run all the way. "Vision. Bad."
Rachel looks up, and Jason sees that she'd been crying.
"I think . . ." The redheaded girl gulps. "I think I may have killed her."
I love how the world perceives tumblr as useless platform. No world news here. No algorithm. No verified accounts. Ads are about Pikachu cosplayer and shoelaces. Folks that's exactly how social media should be
way overdue edit: OP too has learned everything regarding international politics through crabs and that meme but doesn't dare to consider these paranormal/parasocial occurrences as mere news. It's a moment, it's a bliss, it's the nightmare of future generations' history textbooks, you had to be there
The thing about bugs bunny is that he lives and dies by his bits. He’s fully capable of killing you if he wanted, but the thing is, not only is he a nice guy, he’s a funny guy. To beat bugs bunny, many people assume that you just have to not fall for the jokes. If he hits you with a pie, you don’t flinch, and eventually you’ll ware him down. The issue is, misery will only last you so long. There’s only so much bits to endure before it becomes funny. And whoever is getting laughed at is losing. Instead, to kill bugs bunny, you have to beat him at his own game. When he throws a pie, don’t try to sidestep or be a sourpuss, that’s playing into his hands. Instead, you comically open your mouth and swallow it whole. This is how you kill a god.
So my mom is babysitting an infant but I didn't know so I cannot explain the feeling of walking into my living room and seeing a lone baby ive never seen before sitting on the floor and the dead eye contact we shared for a full minute before my mom came back into the room
