Hera

The black Scarf was laid on a beach chair, and then a goddess materialized on the bench, laying on the chair with no worry whatsoever.

She had long lush black hair, the type I'd see in shampoo ads. Brown siren eyes, the type I'd see in my dreams and never forget. Deep tan skin, the type of shade mortal women would kill for. Perfectly shaped lips, the type I'd want to kiss every morning. Full breasts hidden behind a green crocheted bralette, hanging with just enough weight that I knew that no matter when, I could suck on at any given moment and drink to my heart's content. Even with her large breasts, she was clearly bottom heavy, bringing a new meaning to "pear-shaped."

All of that beauty, but it was paired with the bitchiest attitude known to Olympus.

I groaned as I recognized her. "Hera, I hoped I was done cleaning your messes."

Hera groaned as she oriented herself, then glared at me.

"What have you done, demigod?"

"No," I said. "This is a second life, and I've just about had it with you Gods and your fucking attitude and bullshit. Ask me nicely, or you get zero fucking answers."

She looked at everyone else like they'd help, then when she realized she'd get no help, she humphed and crossed her arms.

"I may not feel my powers right now, but I will get my **** on you, mortal," she promised.

"You'll try, you cow," I said angrily, then Clotho dug the next thread out of me.

"This is someone you consider a friend in arms," Clotho said.

Something about the way she said that made me think.

The metallic Scarf was laid on a beach chair, and it materialized into my old friend, Clarisse LaRue.

For a girl so unconcerned about prettiness, the truth is that she has ethereal looks. Her straight blonde hair would typically be in a bun, but today she had it over a shoulder, going past her chest. Her vibrant blue eyes, always showing the story of a harsh general, but behind, those same eyes told the story of a caring friend. In typical LaRue fashion, she was wearing a black sports bra and gym shorts. Her 6-pack stood out, as did her muscular thighs, giving testament to her strength.

"Prissy?" She asked as soon as she reoriented herself. "What godly bullshit is it this time, I could swear we all died and wouldn't have to deal with this shit anymore?"

"I wish," I said with a snort. "We're in some sort of gamble the good Primordials made with extraversal deities that made us their playtoy."

"Only you would deal with this shit," Clarisse said with a hint of fondness. "But why the fuck am I here?"

"We, the Hosts and the Fates, chose you to be a contender to join Percy's harem." The Fates said in unison.

"The fuck?" Clarisse exclaimed. "What Harem?"

Before I could answer, Clotho dug a red-gold Thread out of me.

"This one was so bold, she threw a comb at the Lord of Time himself."

Annabeth growled.