#ch: enola holmes

[rose-of-oz]

"books mean more to me than people anyway" for Enola Holmes

Thank you so much for this!! (And I'm also gonna tag @auxiliarydetective since she's Enola's biggest fan. <3)

— ❥ —

"Ah, Miss Holmes, here you are."

At the sudden sound of a voice, Enola's head snapped up, her eyes darting to where the source of the sound seemed to be coming from. She found Captain Nemo standing in the doorway of the Nautilus's library, watching her where she sat with a thick book in her lap, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Captain," Enola greeted, then looked around her, attempting to locate any clocks that might be nearby. "I apologize if you were looking for me."

"Not to worry, Miss Holmes," the captain replied, stepping futher into the library with his hands behind his back. "There was no pressing matter you were needed for. It was only that young Mister Sawyer became rather anxious when you did not make yourself known for three hours."

"Three hours?" Enola exclaimed with surprise, her eyes widening. She quickly closed the book in her lap, setting it on a nearby desk made of polished wood. "I am terribly sorry if I worried anyone, Captain, it's only that..." She smiled sheepishly. "Well, your library is just so lovely."

And it truly was, especially for a library in a submersible. The room itself was not terribly large, but it was very elegant, made up of the same polished and pale stone and metal as the rest of the ship. Thick, dark carpets with intricately woven silver patterns lay underfoot, a reading corner with overstuffed white and grey armchairs, one of which Enola currently sat in, a few writing desks made of pale wood scattered throughout, and most importantly, the three rows of white-painted shelves absolutely stuffed with books of all kinds. Many of them where written in either Hindi, Tamil, or Urdu, none of which Enola spoke, but the selections she had found in English had all proven to be amazing reading - which she supposed was the reason she'd lost so much time in this room.

"It is completely alright, child," Nemo assured her, smiling gently as he came to sit in the armchair across from her. He folded his hands in his lap and regarded her with his usual calm, kind gaze. "I confess, I have often spent many an hour here myself, forgetting the rest of the world." The captain's smile grew more amused. "Though I greatly enjoy spending time with my crew, I admit I have often found books to be better companions than people."

Enola let out a small laugh. "I am much the same, Captain. It... may be a mark against my character to say so, but I find that books mean more to me than people, anyway."

"Oh?" Nemo replied, tilting his head to the side slightly. Enola felt a bit of a blush working its way up her neck for a moment, but it quickly receded once she realized that Nemo looked genuinely curious rather than judgmental. "And why is that, may I ask?"

"You may," Enola answered on pure mannerly instinct, before pausing and taking a moment to think about how to phrase her answer. She knew her own mind and reasons, of course, but it wasn't as if anyone had ever asked her to explain her devoted attachment to books, and she suspected it was because no one had ever quite cared to know the answer. Even Sherlock and Mycroft, as much as they had always attempted to connect with her, had never bothered to ask why she so loved to sit for hours with her nose in a book on the ancient Grecian militaries or a tomb containing old Irish folktales.

It made her incredibly happy, that she was know around people who cared about her enough to ask things like this. Which was why she wanted to give Captain Nemo the best answer she could.

"I believe... I believe it's because books are much easier to read than people," Enola said after she thought she had properly formatted her response. "People are rather easy for me to read, of course, but there are still layers of body language and facial movements and the state of one's clothes to sift through before I have a hope of knowing about someone. Books are so much more open - even in a novel, where there is often some element of surprise to be had, whatever secrets and meaning are there to be found are printed plainly on the page. There is no analyzing when it comes to books; you need only open their covers, and any secrets they might have are offered up to you directly."

A faint flush on her cheeks, and knowing she was about to reveal something very vulnerable to the man sitting across from her, Enola met Captain Nemo's eyes. "I suppose... I suppose I've always enjoyed that. Getting to experience the same amount of information as anyone else reading a book. To feel normal, if even just a little bit."

Finished her confession, Enola bit her lip and stared down at the clasped hands in her lap, and for a moment, silence settled over the library - not an uncomfortable one, but one of processing and understanding. When eventually she looked back up, Captain Nemo was looking directly at her, his eyes warm and kind.

"Miss Holmes," he said. "If you would allow, I would very much like to stay and read alongside you for a while. Perhaps we may learn some openly-offered secrets together."

Warmth rising in her chest, Enola beamed. "I would like that very much, Captain. Very much."

But, she thought to herself as the captain rose and wandered into the shelves, she liked people wanting to understand her the way she and her brothers understood everyone else much better.

[dreamsofminnie]

🔎Sherlock & Watson🔐

[Luke Pearce x Reader] Series

Synopsis-> Luke the one who has always been by your side throughout school years. The one who wouldn’t hesitate to run back home to get you something you forgot and really needed. Luke who smiles so-so fondly at you when your smiles pierce through his bad days. The same Luke who thought running away from you would be beneficial for you.

^Continuing—It however, only served to push you out of your way to find him. Seeing your surroundings in an entire different city, you are in search of Luke by tracing his detective trails. His name plastered on the newspaper one day by accident, served you to find him quite quickly. Now by his side, the works of detectives and secret agents left you both to conquer swiftly.

^Continuing—Joining his line of work after thorough debating and arguing, he reluctantly let you invade his dangerous lifestyle. Of course–only with him by your side at all times.

Genre tags-> Luke x reader, partners in crime, detectives, partners to lovers, mystery, suspense, action, adventure, mutual pining, comfort fluff, angst, hurt, NXX, childhood friends, luke is meant to stay in that trope imsorry, reader is rosa, but not really, sorry rosa ily😓

Warnings-> Fraud, swearing, abuse of power, corruption, sabotage, weapon trafficking, identity theft, psychological horror, mentions of body horror, crimes against humanity, forgery, organized crime, treason, theft, toxic friends, bullying, messed up relations, desperation leads to crime, mentions of sex, libido, depression, guilt, treason against human morals, gangs, death, muder, obsession, self-hate, self body shaming, mentions of rape, mentions of sexual assault, harsh language,

(Criminals brought to justice by Luke♡)

Inspirations-> Themis main story line + Event stories/card stories; Enola Holmes movies, Charming the Duke of the north, tba. . .

Status-> Was discontinued but might start it up again.

>>>[Name]~Ch.1–5 “Her Revival”

~Ch.5–10 “His Escape” [Luke]<<<

Chapter X (10)-> Finding Luke + 15 year long trial

Chapter XI (11)-> Reader agent recruit + mission abroad

Chapter XII (12)-> Underground Renaissance socialite world murder

Chapter XIII (13)-> To be added. . .

Chapter XIV (14)-> Tba. . .

[Taglist] Always open!!

@neigesprincess @crucnhice @backintomykpopphaseagain @kazedaka @little-aruma

[kajaono]

Holmes & Watson

Actually it should be common knowledge that Sherlock Holmes stories can not work without John Watson. Because without John Watson Sherlock Holmes would just be a weird nerdy crow solving cases. It is John Watson who makes him famous, who tells his story, who gets him away from drugs eventually.

Nevertheless we still get adaptations where John Watson is erased because he is... boring? I don’t really know to be honest. One of the most recent adaptations who also erases John Watson is ENOLA. In the Enola movies Sherlocks cases are always discussed in the press, he is a superstar... even though he has no partner who writers down his cases for him. Weird plot hole, but thats not my point today

But - even though the movies erase John Watson - they still drop a really interesting line why a Sherlock Holmes story without John Watson can never work. Sherlock offers to work together with Enola and says:

Enola rejects the offer and responds with:

But why does she rejects the offer, even though she also admits that it would be her dream to work alongside Sherlock? Yes she says “I would be always in your shadow”. But thats only half of the truth. For Enola a Holmes&Holmes relationship wouldn’t be good because she would always be in Sherlocks shadow. But what about Sherlock? Why would a Holmes&Holmes relationship bad for him? Would he really be lonley if he would work together with his sister? Sadly the show never really gives an answer to that and “only” uses this scene as a set up to introduce Watson.

Good for us CBS Elementary my beloved also had an episode with the same topic and digged a lot deeper into the question why Holmes on his own (aka Holmes&Holmes) is super hurtful for Sherlock. The episode is season 3x19 and has the glorious title “One Holmes, One Watson”

Short summary: To cope with a trauma Joan tries to turn herself into a second Holmes, to get rid of friends and emotions that can potential hurt her again: Holmes&Holmes. Sherlock realizes that this isn’t a good idea and give a beautiful and very on point summary why a Sherlock Holmes story can never work without a Watson:

But why doesn’t it work? Whats so problematic about Holmes on his own aka Holmes&Holmes? Enola sadly didn’t gave us an answer to that. But Elementary did a few scenes later:

This is why every Sherlock Holmes story needs a John Watson. Because Sherlock Holmes on his own is not complete. Sure, he is a brilliant problem solver, a lover of dogs, a chemist. But he is also anti-social, has a drug problem, has a little EQ and a fucked up night&day rythm.

John on the other hand is emphatic, nice, friendly, makes friends easily, enjoys his sleep. But he is also traumatized from the war, struggles to get back on his feets and to face his trauma.

You know the theory in greek mytholgy about the spherical humans? The spherical humans contains of two humans, fitting together perfectly, forming a round body. The gods were jealous at the humans because together the spherical humans had a really strong power. So the gods cut the spherical humans in two parts and placed the parts all over the world so they would have problems finding their fitting part again. And now every human is searching for their missing part, so they can eventually form the spherical human again and become stronger together.

John and Sherlock are a spherical human. Sure, one half can work without the other, but they are weak like this. And so is the story: weak.

You always need both of them.

This is not something I made up. It was also already written down in the ACD canon:

“It is both, or none," said he. "You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me." - A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA

Of course I do not expected the Enola Holmes writers to be familar with ALL Sherlock Holmes stories (of course I do but if I say that out loud I sound like a purist again), because it is about Enola but you should at least be familar with some basic concepts/rules for the original ACD canon characters. That includes the scene above... and of course The Three Garridebs and the CAM case. Hand holding behind closed curtains!

And I honestly fear that the writers of the Enola movies have not understood yet that it is always “both or none” and only introduced John Watson because he necessary for the next storyline to come. I fear that they only know what to do with John Watson as a character when he is relevant for the story, and do not know what else to do with him... On the other hand: Sherlocks lonliness is mentioned around three times in Enola 2, so the writers do seem to be aware that Sherlock needs his Watson? But why wait until the end of Enola 2 to introduce him? Didn’t they knew where he fits into the storyline of the second movies?

Anyways: I hope that when writing the script for the third movie they slowly will become familiar with Watson as a character and slowly find out where his place is in the Enola movies. (At least I hope so, movies where they are just cold distant friends, is the most unpleasant thing to watch imo... IF we get Enola 3).

TL:DR: Don’t seperate Sherlock Holmes from John Watson

[worstwolverinesbf]

FANDOM LIST

I’m gonna categorize them by like how much I know and can yap about

I will update this as I find more

“I can yap for ages about them”

Marvel/Mcu

Sherlock BBC

Doctor Who

Batfam

Marauders

Criminal Minds

Gravity Falls

Stranger Things

The Umbrella Academy

Deadpool and Wolverine

Good Omens

Star Wars

It (not ch 2 tho)

Knives Out movies

“I can yap for ages but i don’t know everything because I either haven’t finished it or I forgot”

Miss Peregrines Home for Peculiar Children (not the movie)

Supernatural

Brooklyn 99

House

Law and Order: SVU

Sherlock in general tho not elementary or enola holmes

Star Trek

Torchwood

Ninjago

Ghostbusters (2016)

What We Do In The Shadows (movie)

Numb3rs

“I like their vibe and I will listen to you yap and I’ll know some stuff”

Adventure Time

Sonic the Hedgehog

Basically any lego shows eg the knight one

Ghostbusters

Men In Black

What We Do In The Shadows (show)

Hannibal

[majorsamcarters]

ENOLA HOLMES (2020) dir. Harry Bradbeer

[mskrianna]

❝— Ладно, хватит жаловаться на жизнь! Пора возвращаться к делам!❞

— Enola Holmes

[kingorm]

Delightful. Perhaps you could join me for tea.

[firexfate]

[Nobody really asked for this, but I’m posting this anyways because why not — have an edit/moodboard that I did of Sherlock and my OC, Charlotte Irving.]

❝ Strangers in the night, two lonely people,

We were strangers in the night.

Up to the moment when we said our first hello,

Little did we know,

Love was just a glance away;

A warm embracing dance away.

And ever since that night we've been together,

Lovers at first sight, in love forever.

It turned out so right for strangers in the night. ❞

— Frank Sinatra

[nixiesrec]

omg love this, so cute im soft 🥺

“there’s no one like you.”

requested

ALRIGHT, FOLKS, TODAY WE ARE TALKING ABOUT DATING THE SWEET VISCOUNT TEWKESBURY…

i’m going to go the route and say that the two of you were childhood friends

simply because tewkesbury? he can be annoying as hell, and it’s endearing… but only if you’ve known him forever and a day.

i mean, i can vividly see the two of you sitting in his treehouse, you trying to read or just ~escape~ and he grabs a flower (that he’s going to press in one of his books) and just… tickles your cheek with it. 

and you do the thing where you scrunch up your nose and move your head a bit but he just persists 

“do you have to be this annoying?”

“for you? always.”

“one day you’ll mysteriously disappear, and i’ll be the last person they’ll think of to accuse, but i’ll have been the one to ship you off.”

and he scoffs

“you’d come with me.”

“would i?”

“yes.”

and you just groan and push the flower away again

all he can do is laugh

i imagine that you 100% went with him on his adventures with enola

or if you didn’t, you 100% were the one to put him in the carpet bag

it’s become a running joke, now. you threaten to throw him in the carpet bag when he’s being annoying.

okay, but i get way to invested in backstory - ABOUT ACTUALLY DATING HIM

tewkesbury is a gentleman. i mean, he’s a marquess and a viscount, he clearly knows how to be the most polite and just the picture of innocence.

and i also imagine that he believes in a very formal style of courting you - sure, he’s known you forever and it’s probably futile to try and appear like anything other than the walking disaster that he is, but he wants to at least try.

but this also clashes with the fact that when he has a crush on anyone, he just becomes the most annoying (explaining the scene above). 

it’s just like,,,, i want to give you the world and i want to do this right but also…… i just want your attention and i will go to any lengths to gain it.

but tbh, the two of you are such good friends, and you’ve known each other for so long, that the anxiousness wears off fairly quickly.

and you also have this odd ability of calming him down? all it takes is one pensive look or a brush of your fingertips against his hand and all that pounding in his chest quiets to a fluttering, and his thoughts slowly piece themselves together.

“you, viscount tewkesbury, marquess of basilwether will be the death of me.”

“i have enough love in my heart to resurrect you from any grave.”

and statements like that always stun you for a minute

“well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

but yes, the two of you court each other in a very formal way

he loves to take you on walks, which always makes you laugh, because “didn’t we go on walks before? nothing changed, it’s the same roads as always.”

but tewkesbury insists that things are, in fact, incredibly different. you’re together, now - it’s not just in his head.

and you tell him that you’re glad - being together like this might have crossed your mind a time or two. you can’t say for sure, though. it would inflate his ego too much, if you were certain, and we don’t want that.

oh! may i also suggest,,,,,,, sneaking out at night and stargazing? tewkesbury doesn’t know anything about the stories for constellations, and he probably doesn’t know how to spot things either.

you are either able to point them out to him and/or tell him about the stories, or the two of you decide to make your own constellations. he will point them out and you will weave the most wonderful of stories, always adding a dash of tragedy or a hint of love.

and when you get tired of the stars, the two of you flip of your stomachs and he’ll tell you about flowers or the kinds of mushrooms that are growing around you. you’ll close your eyes and just listen to his voice, and he swears it’s the most beautiful expression he’s ever seen.

if there was ever a time he’d break his adherence to decorum, it would be in those moments, and his lips would brush your cheek before he’d ask if he could kiss you properly.

also, tewkesbury and gifts,,,,, he would clearly love to buy them for you, but he’d also like to have a reason for the gift - he’s very spontaneous, but he tries his best to not actually show that.

so it’s long become a thing that he will just…. make up some occasion as to why he gave you a gift.

i’m going to say that he’s always been a gift giver, so even when you were just friends, you knew all about this problem of his.

no doubt the two of you will try to concoct a reason as to why he’s giving you a gift this time. you’ll see the box behind his back, and you’ll make an outlandish guess that he’ll build on until it has the both of you laughing.

and i mean, yeah, he has money so they’re great gifts and all, but what you really look forward to are the notes and letters he writes with the gifts.

tewkesbury has loved you for a  l o n g  time and he’s been writing poetry about you just as long, so he has a lot of material to choose from, and he actually gets pretty decent at poetry?

just imagine writing letters to each other and sending them in the mail,,,, i’m soft.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

– taglist: @swanimagines, @amortensie, @multifandomfix, @captainshazamerica // message me if you want to be added!

[ajatpau]

—kicks n’ chicks - a flarrie au

taglist: @sylphrenas (lmk if you want to be added!)

prev | next | masterlist

summary: Flynn wasn’t a person who panicked. Especially not with girls. But then again, she hadn’t met Carrie Wilson yet.

note: flynn is a she/they! ALSOALSOALSO I’M SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT JSJSJJDJD I HOPE THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE LONGER ALSO THIS ENDING I HATE IT SM SO—

ch. 1: pretty girl

queens

flynn 👑: iiiiit’s girl night and you know what that means!

julie 🌺: flynn. no. we aren’t going to make s’mores again.

flynn 👑: it was one time! learn to let things go </3

julie 🌺: bestie as much as i love you, that was one time too many

flynn 👑: hmph.

flynn 👑: movie night? we can watch enola holmes again

julie 🌺: now that’s what i’m talking about

julie 🌺: i can make the popcorn, you bring the blankets?

Flynn laughed, and looked up to see a pretty girl with hot pink hair. Talk to her. She’s pretty, and most likely strong. Go talk to Pretty Girl! Flynn’s internal monologue was… entertaining sometimes, but right now she needed answers. She looked down at her phone to see three new messages from Julie.

julie 🌺: flynn?

julie 🌺: FLYNNNNNNNN

julie 🌺: is there a giiiiirl?

flynn 👑: ….maybe

julie 🌺: bestie u should go talk to her!

flynn 👑: i guess i will

Pretty Girl looked like she went to the gymnastics classes, which meant she was strong (Internal monologue got it right, for once). But, it’s better not to assume things, so why wouldn’t she ask? So Flynn marched over to the bench Pretty Girl was sitting on, and cleared her throat.

“Uh. Hi—I’m Flynn. Do you go there?” Flynn gestured at the gymnastics building.

——

Carrie’s POV:

strawberry shortcake

carrie 💖: BOBBYYYYY

carrie 💖: BOBBY I NEED YOUUUU

carrie 💖: THERE’S A PRETTY GIRL AND SHE’S TALKING TO ME

carrie 💖: HELP

carrie 💖: BOBBYYYYYYYYYYY

Carrie rolled her eyes at her phone. Apparently Bobby wasn’t going to help.

“Hello? Are you even paying attention?” Oops. Apparently Pretty Girl was mad.

Time to solve this: Carrie Style.

“Who are you?” Well, that carried a different tone than she had meant it to.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m Flynn. Do you go to the gymnastics building?” Pretty Girl went and gestured to it.

“Why do you want to know?” Shit, this wasn’t going how it was supposed to go.

——

Flynn’s POV:

Just great. Pretty Girl was an asshole.

“Well, maybe I wanted to be friends. You’ll never know now, I guess.” Flynn stalked away.

[rose-of-oz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐒

❝ Enola Holmes - she didn’t think she would ever forgive her mother for that name; honestly, who thought it was a good idea to name their daughter after the world alone? - was just as good a detective as her older brothers. However, due to various circumstances beyond her control (being a woman, being a young woman, never quite fitting in among the high society Mycroft kept attempting to make her a part of), she was not nearly as respected as them. Rejected from every attempt she had made at becoming a consulting detective at Scotland Yard alongside Sherlock, Enola was relegated to running her own small detective firm in in the heart of London, helping to locate missing cats or deducing whether the husbands of ancient society ladies where frequenting brothels or not.

It was far from the worst existence, all things considered; most of her clients payed rather well, and she was not scrutinized by London society the way Mycroft and Sherlock were. But still, Enola was all the time craving more - to be recognized for her deduction skills the way her brothers were, to partake in some grand adventure that would finally force her family to look at her with some amount of pride. But with the way things had been for quite some time, that did not seem likely, and so she attempted to force herself to be content with her life the way it was, deducing on behalf of fussy old wealthy ladies and remaining as alone as her name suggested.

But all that changed when Enola was contacted by a mysterious representative of Her Majesty’s government. The agent, who called himself only M, informed her that a shadowy, dangerous man who called himself the Fantom was attempting to start a world war by selling off his advanced weapons, and that a team made up of remarkable and skilled individuals, including Enola, was to be assembled in order to combat the threat. (He also told her that he had attempted to contact both of her brothers before her and that the only reason he was choosing her to be part of the team was because they had both had other engagements, but Enola studiously tryed to ignore how much that stung.)

M’s offer is the very thing Enola has been waiting for, a chance to go on an adventure and use her skills to do some good for the world, but upon meeting the other members of this so-called “League of Extraordinary Gentlemen,” she quickly realizes that the team is nothing like what she expected. Skinner is endlessly aggravating and refuses to take anything seriously, Quartermain is much too skeptical of having Enola and Miss Mina Harker as part of the group, and there is something about the immortal Dorian Gray that she does not quite trust. The only ones who does not unsettle Enola or make her wish to rip out her hair are Doctor Henry Jekyll, a terribly nervous man who shares his body with an entire other, decidedly more gruff, man, and Tom Sawyer, an American with awful shooting technique who smiles at Enola in a way she has never been smiled at before.

Given everything, Enola is not entirely sure that this merry band of misfits will actually be able to stop the Fantom’s plans and prevent a war. But as their journey continues and she begins to form her own special bonds with each League member, Enola is sure of one thing: even if they cannot defeat the Fantom, even if the unease she feels around Gray is proven right, even if she truly never becomes recognized the way her brothers are (even if she makes a mess of this sweet, delicate thing brewing between her and Sawyer, which she suspects she will)…

She is a member of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. She has found her own form of a dysfunctional, squabbling, chaos-filled family. And that means that, no matter the meaning of her name, she is not alone anymore. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag.

[a-hundred-jewels]

cruel summer ch 12: i have these lucid dreams

Ao3 Wattpad

Summary: sabrina starr, pegasuses, and oh no! the fourth wall broke! do we have a carpenter in the audience?

Word Count: 9000 ish

Tags: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Jane Penderwick, Rosalind Penderwick/Tommy Geiger, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jane Penderwick, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Rosalind Penderwick, Skye Penderwick, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Martin Penderwick, Elizabeth "Batty" Penderwick, Elizabeth Penderwick (senior), Iantha Aaronson-Penderwick, Ben Aaronson-Penderwick, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Jeffrey Tifton-McGrath, Percy Jackson, Demeter (Percy Jackson), Apollo (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood AU, Demigods, demeter!elizabeth penderwick, demeter!rosalind (second generation), demeter!batty (second generation), apollo!alec mcgrath, apollo!jeffrey (second generation), demeter!jane (second generation), demeter!skye (second generation), all of that's in no particular order, main focus is on jane because i love her and she's so so fun to write, tomsalind is there (and stuff will happen - i can't really say what, it will really be eventful though), yes of course there's solangelo, takes place right before Penderwicks In Spring, After Trials of Apollo, more tags to come??, Minor Swearing

Notes and Full Chapter below cut:

Hello everyone and welcome back! I'll admit, this is a little later today than I'd been planning to post (was hoping to get an early start), but hey! If the Puppet History season 4 finale can be late, then so can I!

First off, a massive massive thank you to waterbottle_stickers for being the best beta reader ever. This chapter would be a mess without you. Also, if you haven't already, please check out their enola holmes fic wherever you stray, i follow it's truly wonderful.

If you've been following me on tumblr, then you'll know that, in addition to reblogging an alarming quantity of good omens fanart, I've been making some plans for fics this month. The original plan from back in august was to post every day of the month, but... ahhh.... I just don't work that fast lmao. I'll have to be content with just posting a fair amount this month. Happy october! Anyway, stay tuned.

On this fine day, we've got two lovely QUEER fanfic recommendations that I'm very excited to share. Up first is one from the tumblr blog izzielizzie (which you should all absolutely check out! especially if you're into the one of us is lying fandom!). it centers around the skye/melissa pairing and their senior prom, which Skye is said to have only gone to last minute, and also wearing a lab coat, in a passage of the penderwicks at last. featuring some oblivious lesbians and also jane. once again a massive thanks to izzielizzie, as this fic is one of my favourites!. click here to take a look! (also keep an eye on her blog in general bc her penderwicks fics are awesome!)

The second fanfic is also one I'm very fond of, as it focuses on the siblinghood of skye and jane, which is one of my favourite topics on earth. check out rolling down the ancient high street by hanchewie/ramblemadlyon (tumblr and ao3 respectively) for the sibling antics of aroace skye and bisexual jane when the latter visits the former at her college in california! and, if you like it, ramblemadlyon has two other penderwicks fics from the past couple days that look fantastic as well, and that I look forward to reading.

This chapter is dedicated to my therapist, since I've decided this will be the month of oddly specific dedications. thank you for telling me to stop referring to cruel summer as my "trash baby" and help me recognize the true worth that it holds in my life.

Disclaimer: not my characters, you know the drill. Jeanne Birdsall and Rick Riordan are lucky ducks indeed. chapter title is (obviously) from "lucid dreams" by Juice WRLD.

FROM THE POV OF JANE PENDERWICK

The woods loomed around me, seeming as tall as buildings as they invited me in further. I took another step, the sharp pain of a pinecone digging into my foot barely registered in my mind. I kept walking. A crack sounded throughout the air, and, behind me, a tree splintered round its base and fell down, only inches away from crushing me dead, and completely blocking the path out.

Frightened, I began to run, looking for a way out of the forest. But no matter which way I went, there were only trees in front of me. Where was the path? Where was the grassy hill I had walked down to get in here in the first place. Had I even walked down that hill to begin with? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I remembered coming here. I wasn’t sure I remembered waking up this morning, or going to bed last night, or anything besides existing in the forest. Who was I? What was I doing here? How could I get out?

Panicking, I stood in the middle of a clearing, looking frantically at the trees around me, trying to find something familiar. Nothing. I was exhausted. How long had I been here? An hour? A day? A lifetime? I collapsed at the base of a tree, sobbing as I tried to remember. Something. Anything.

Then, a voice echoed around me. “Welcome,” it said, and my mind went black.

I bolt upright in bed, a scream halfway out of my throat. I clamp it back, not wanting to wake my cabinmates. Thin light whimpers through the window--enough for me to see my white-knuckle grip on the sheets, but not enough to pass as daylight.

What time is it?

Our cell phones don’t really work here--that was one of the first things Miranda told us when we arrived, and Batty’s been gleefully lording it over us that her Mp3 player will still play music and, like, function, while our smart phones recline sadly in our duffel bags. That being said, I don’t feel quite brave enough to get out of my bed just yet and tiptoe over to the big analog clock that Rio bought at a pawn shop in Colorado. Maybe my phone will at least show the time.

I reach under my bed and fumble for my duffel, hooking my pinky through the zipper loop and yanking it out onto my floor. My phone’s in the front pocket, buried under two pairs of headphones, several gum wrappers, and some strawberry leaves (?????). A piece of gum peels off the screen as I disentangle my phone, and I mentally chide my past self for being so messy.

My phone does not turn on. Big clock it is.

I tiptoe across the cold tile and peer around the tree.

5:45 .

Jesus Pagan Christ.

It’s too early to wake anyone up (as I think this, Batty lets out a snore to rival any crabby Tyrannosaurus Rex), so I wrap a blanket around myself like a criminally attractive burrito, and creep out onto the porch, with my notebook and pen tucked into my shirt.

As long as I live, I will never get tired of summer mornings. There’s something deeply lovely about the soft light of the still-sleepy, pink lemonade sun, the quiet anticipation of the cool air, damp from dew and preparing for the upcoming heat. At home in Cameron, Skye’s woken me up many an early morning to go for a run or do soccer drills or for a grueling “Seven Minute Workout Except You Don’t Follow The Rules And Torture Your Sister by Making It Actually A Forty-Nine Minute Workout.” (But it’s okay, I’m not bitter). But, as delightful as those experiences have all been, I don’t think Skye really gets it. The beauty of the summer morning is not what it can do for your workout schedule, but rather in its gentle softening of an otherwise boiling day. It is to be appreciated in the way that I am now, sitting curled up on this frighteningly creaky porch (I mean, seriously, who built this?) and calling up the Sabrina Starr section of my brain to try and write away the residual panic from my nightmare.

Sabrina sighed as the plane took off. She wasn’t sure if she should have followed the voice in her head telling her to come here. Saying it out loud--even just thinking it--made it sound ridiculous. A dream, a voice in her mind. Barely more than a whim.

Worse than that, Sabrina wasn’t even sure where this whim was taking her. On a napkin in her pocket, she’d scrawled everything she remembered about the dream from the night before. The dark sky, lit only with spiderwebs of lightning, the shadowy figure huddled on a beach and soaked through with rain. The voice crying for help.

And a name. Aeaea.

After she’d woken up, Sabrina had looked up Aeaea, too tired to fully connect why the name felt familiar. Her heart had sunk further after reading the Wikipedia entry, and a breath of hopelessness had left her lips. According to the internet, Aeaea was not a real place. It had been the island prison of Circe. Fiction wasn’t new to Sabrina, and neither was mythology (she recalled an adventure spent with a ghost called Rainbow from a few years back).

Fictional places, though, were another matter. How could she get somewhere if she didn’t know where she was going? Was she trusting her gut with too much this time?

Sabrina folded up the napkin and put it back in her pocket. There was no point in worrying about that now. She’d looked at enough maps to make a guess at where Aeaea might be if it was real. When she got there, she could get more information. Sabrina Starr had survived this long in her career of rescues and whims. She could survive one more adventure. Worst case scenario, she said to herself, I spend a few days running around for nothing and have to brush up on my Greek.

She repeated it to herself like a promise. Worst case scenario, worst case scenario… Eventually, tired out from all her anxieties, and from trying desperately not to worry about what would come next, Sabrina fell asleep.

FROM THE POV OF RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE

“Okay, I give up. Tell me what’s wrong.” Annabeth’s voice startles me away from my plate of eggs, which I had been pushing around with a fork. Anxiety bubbles in my throat, just as it had been since I woke up, and food just doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“I--what?”

Annabeth waves her hand impatiently. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and I don’t think you’ve looked up once. Also you’re always hungry in the mornings, so unless you, like, ate an entire cow before I got here, this ,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs, “is unusual behaviour.”

I give her a look. Sometimes, I get the feeling that Annabeth exists as a part of multiple different dimensions at once, like she’s having four other conversations that I can’t hear, and is still ten steps ahead of me in the one I’m actually a part of.

Or maybe I’m just easy to read.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.” I’m terrified.

Annabeth sighs. “Is this about the prophecy?”

“No,” I spear another piece of egg, and don’t eat it. “Maybe. Yes.” I feel like going back to my cave and staying there for the rest of my life. Waiting with a book and some paints for the prophecy to get bored and go away. Maybe I’d take Jane with me, or Nico, for some company. That sounds nice.

My plate is pulled away from me as I aim my fork again. “I can’t pay attention when you do that,” Annabeth huffs. I think I wouldn’t invite her to stay in my cave. She’s too on the nose when I want to mope. Then again, she says the same about me.

“Fine,” I turn and face her. “Let’s talk feelings.” Connor Stoll, who had been making his way towards our table, abruptly turns around and walks the other way. I should get Chiron to hire a therapist. Gods know we need it.

Further proving my point, Annabeth’s eyes widen a little, before she remembers it is I who will be spilling. (I make a point to corner her later. It’s a routine we have). “Wow. You broke fast.”

I nod. “I’m tired and you’re annoying.” (False. We both know it. Another routine). “Like you said, I’m nervous about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nods. “And?”

I frown. “What do you mean, and ? There’s no and.”

Annabeth frowns back at me. A mirror, a mime, an annoyance. The nerve to look disappointed in me. “I thought you were spilling, Red.”

I roll my head back and study the roof of the pavilion, which Annabeth designed, and slowly lean my head down to stare at the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation. I go along anyways. “I’m worried about Jane.”

Annabeth leans back, triumphant. “Ah, yes. Your girlfriend.”

Maybe if I try reeeeeeeally hard, I can activate the Oracle of Delphi and freak Annabeth out enough to make her go away. “ Not my girlfriend. You know that.”

“You called Percy my boyfriend for weeks before we actually officially decided.”

I wave my hand dissmissively. “That’s different, you guys were dancing around each other for like three years. You needed a bit of a push. Jane and I kissed once! Over a week ago! And nothing came of it.” We actually haven’t really talked about it. We’re in this sort of in-between zone where we spend a ton of time together, but don’t have a label for it. Honestly, it’s been nice.

Annabeth grins, apparently reading my thoughts. “You’ve been eating lunch with the Demeter cabin, like, every other day. I saw you doing archery together yesterday. Both of you were awful at it, but you stayed there for hours. I’ve never seen you focus on something that long outside of your paintings.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Maybe Annabeth designed it so that a single square foot of rock might fall down onto my head and relieve me from this conversation. “Yes, fine, we spend a lot of time together. But that doesn’t make us a couple, and has nothing to do with what I’m actually worried about!” I can see in her face that Annabeth is more serious now, and is about to fully listen to me, when Percy and Malcolm show up, sliding into the seats across from us, and clanging several plates of pancakes down onto the table in front of them.

“Made them ourselves! Wanna share?” Percy gives Annabeth heart eyes and a kiss on the cheek when she folds a large blue pancake into thirds and bites it like a burrito. I roll my eyes at them because they are a horrifying and disgusting couple and also I kind of want to be them when I grow up. Malcolm ignores them, instead turning to me. “Were you talking about Jane?” he asks, pushing wire rimmed glasses up his nose.

I frown. “Sort of. Why?”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You know. Just, uh, just wondering.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then Percy, who tears himself away from looking at Annabeth to sigh dramatically. “Malcolm wants to ask out Jane’s sister. You know, the blond one.”

I snort. “ Skye? Seriously?”

Malcolm looks vaguely offended. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Sorry, it’s not weird.” I reach over the table to pat him on the shoulder with my fork. “Perfectly normal teenage hormones.” He glares at me and I smile sweetly back. “I just can’t imagine Skye going out with anyone, that’s all.”

Malcolm stares down at his pancake, disappointed. “Oh. You sure?”

I nod, feeling a little more normal with my friends and less doom-related breakfast conversation. My eggs are past the threshold of “warm and appetizing” but I take a bite anyway. “Pretty sure. Jane told me that she’s aroace and, based on past occurrences, there’s a seventy percent chance she’ll punch anyone who asks her out. Anyway, why the interest? I didn’t know you guys talked.”

Malcolm shrugs. “We don’t, really. She just seems cool.”

Percy pipes in, “He’s been practically obsessed with her since she won that soccer game against the Nike kids and made them cry.”

I nod approvingly. “Well, Malcolm, at least we know you have good taste.”

Annabeth pats him on the head, ignoring his complaints that her hand is covered in blue maple syrup. “Better luck next time, brother of mine.”

Piper and Leo join us next, contributing an alarming volume of grapes and a single hardboiled egg to the breakfast display. Leo grabs a pancake and wraps it around some grapes, before taking a big bite. “I hear you’re discussing Malcolm’s romantic failures,” he says around the world’s worst breakfast burrito. Piper gasps in mock offense, then swallows the unpeeled hardboiled egg whole, like a snake. (This is a regular morning routine. She’s trying to work up to being a sword swallower, since her dad did it in a movie once and she thought it looked like fun). “ Malcolm, why didn’t you come to me? I could have given you a verdict within five minutes!”

“I wanted advice on whether I should ask out that Heaphestus boy two weeks ago and you told me to fuck off.”

Piper pouts at him. “That’s on you, you caught me at a bad time.”

Annabeth holds up a pancake with the air of a respected royal and we turn to her. “As delightful as this is, Rachel and I were initially talking about her romantic prospects and also her worries and fears, and I feel that we should get back to that before she slinks off and avoids the rest of the conversation.”

I glare at her. “Why would you bring this away from the very nice conversation we were having about everyone else’s problems? Do you hate me?” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m just not letting you walk away from a potential breakthrough. Now, where were we? You were saying that you’re worried about Jane but it has nothing whatsoever to do with your relationship, or lack thereof.”

I give a long suffering sigh, and try to communicate telepathically with Piper that she needs to Save Me Now, but she’s looking at me in interest with her chin resting in her hands, her long fingers adorned with rings sent to her from her Mortal girlfriend, Shel, who bought them at a vintage punk store. The traitor. Defeated, I turn back to Annabeth.

“It’s just that, whatever ends up happening with this prophecy, I don’t want it to fuck her up, in the way the quests have sometimes done to us. Like, we’re used to this by now, but it hasn’t been a smooth road. I don’t exactly like going on quests, and at first I was really worried at the prospect of being included in a prophecy, since that’s fairly abnormal, but Jane was only made aware of her heritage a couple months ago! What if this turns out like Silena or Beckendorf or-or Jason, and the prophecy destroys her, and it’s all my fault because I’m the one who pulled her into all this?”

Everyone tenses up at the mention of Jason, but they continue to look at me with a mixture of concern and love that makes something soften inside of me. For the hundredth time, I think of how lucky I am to have these people who love me unconditionally. Even if they really, really need therapy.

“I know that I didn’t plan any of this, but we’re both tied in now, especially since both Chiron and I had the prophetic dream and I actually gave the prophecy that day in the woods, and, well, this isn’t her world yet. She’s only got a little bit of ichor in her, and she grew up knowing nothing of any of this. In a way, I did too, and I have no ichor, but I had clear sight. For me, it was ineffable, but she could technically leave any time, if it weren’t for the prophecy. She can leave, and I feel like it’s up to me to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Annabeth reaches her arms out to me and I let myself be pulled into an embrace. “Jane’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sabrina stood in line at the boat rental hut, her arms crossed and a frown plastered on her face. It had not been a successful afternoon. For hours, she’d been searching the coastal towns near where her plane landed, looking for some trace of Aeaea, or anything else she’d seen in her dream. She was used to working with dregs. It was normal for her to have to squint a little at the evidence, have to shuffle things together around big holes of “Maybe,” like she was working a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

But this was something else.

Sabrina had read about places where mythology shaped the culture. Places where the tourist draws were events that had supposedly happened thousands of years ago, or creatures that only existed in grainy photographs and people’s imaginations. Hell, she’d met the Loch Ness monster. Was it insane for her to have assumed she’d be able to find the same kind of thing here? All her training and years of experience had told her that, if you sniff around long enough, you’ll find a conspiracy theorist or a slightly off-the-rails guidebook.

So far, though, Sabrina had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hunted around, searching up library catalogs, checking every store on the street. “Aeaea,” “Circe,” even “the Odyssey.”

Nothing.

The line edged along slowly, and Sabrina ran her hands up and down her arms. The air was chilly from its proximity to the cold sea water. There were three people in front of her now. She just had to wait a little longer, then she would have a boat and be able to explore these waters herself.

Something was wrong with this place. Something was wrong with all of these places. And Sabrina was going to figure out what.

Later, Jane and I are taking our time walking to the pegasus stables to watch the riding lesson that Rosalind has reluctantly agreed to let Batty take (provided that Percy, who’s teaching today, doesn’t let her fly high enough that she’ll die if she falls off, and that Batty wears all of the necessary protective gear). Jane looks lovely, wearing a sunshine-y yellow bandana that sets off her dark curls and warm sepia skin. She has on her Camp Half-Blood shirt again, and a short green skirt, and all of it should clash horribly, but it doesn’t.

We’ve decided to cut through the strawberry fields, and I swallow a sun-warmed strawberry while Jane tells me about the dream she had last night. I think back to my conversation with Annabeth this morning when she tells me of the dark woods and the feeling of drowning, the memory warping and the echoing voice. At some point we sit down in a patch of grass, a simple circle amidst strawberry plants with a couple logs where the campers and satyrs take their breaks when they work here. Jane finishes her story and we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, only broken by the grunts of annoyance Jane makes while trying to get her plant powers to activate again. She’s been doing that a lot.

“Well that sucks,” I say finally. “Have you been having other dreams like it?”

Jane shrugs, the neon orange fabric of her shirt wrinkling on her shoulders. “One or two, I think. Last night’s was the first one I really remembered. ” She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “I hardly ever remember my dreams. It used to upset me. I thought I was losing potential writing material.”

I laugh. It’s such a Jane thing to think, that I can’t help it. She goes quiet, like she’s reminiscing, and I picture a tiny version of Jane, sitting crossed-legged on her summer quilt, writing. I look at her now, scrunched up nose and big brown eyes. Oh gods, she must have been an adorable child.

“My mother used to say that my imagination was the eighth wonder of the world,” Jane says. She’s looking down the hill at the cabins, plant powers temporarily forgotten, and I remember her telling me about her mother, the first Elizabeth Penderwick, who came here and was a daughter of Demeter and loved opera. The Penderwick siblings’ beloved mother who died so young.

I move closer to Jane on the log. “I can understand why she’d say that.”

Jane smiles again, a little sad this time, a little absent, but full to the brim with love.

“Bet you she’s in Elysium,” I say softly. I explained the Underworld to Jane a couple weeks ago, and she’d gotten this same absent look on her face, that I now know means she’s thinking about her mother. Jane nods, now, then turns to me. “Could we talk about something else?” Her voice is quiet, her eyes a little shiny.

“Course,” I say. “Shall I regale you with tales of dimwittery at this camp in the years past?” I told her last week about the time some Hermes kids tried to order pizza to the camp, accidently causing Chiron to think we were under attack. Jane had nearly fallen off the bench laughing.

She grins now, but shakes her head. “Tell me what it’s like being an Oracle.” I give her a look. She’s asked me before and I never really know what to say. When I give prophecies, it’s like I black out. I’m taken over by another entity who shares my body. (“Like that lady in Suicide Squad ,” Leo had said when I tried to explain it to him once, but I’d refused to be compared to such a gods-fucking-awful movie). So, in a way, I don’t know what it’s like to be the Oracle.

As if reading my thoughts, Jane shakes her head. “Not that part. I’ve seen you all green and smokey, and I know you can’t feel it. I mean the other stuff. How did you know it was you? What did you have to do to become the Oracle? That kind of thing.” I relax a little. Jane’s asked me all sorts of weird questions about Greek mythology and the gods recently. She calls it “research for her book,” but sometimes I think she’s just nosy. It’s cute.

Jane shrugs and looks off into the distance. If you tilt your head a little you can kind of see the stables from here. We have fifteen more minutes to get there, according to my watch. I decide to take it easy. “Delphi is this weird ethereal spirit,” Jane continues, “but there’s also just everyday, Oracle you, who likes paint and denim and bagels.” At that, I laugh. “I actually don’t like bagels that much. I’m just late to breakfast so often that they’re usually the only things available.”

Jane pouts at me and plays with the bracelet tied around my wrist--the one she gave me. “You know what I mean! You know all this weird shit about me because my siblings don’t shut up at lunch, and I know stuff about you, like the denim thing, which I still think is funny by the way. But you’re also the freaking Oracle! Your dormant self lies waiting!” I laugh at her, and she rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Rachel, that’s very cool!”

I give in. “Honestly, there’s not much to say, that’s why I don’t talk about it.” I pause. “Well no, it’s that a lot of the stuff beyond the obvious is actually sort of creepy and weird, and not in a good way. There’s stuff I try not to think about, is what I mean.”

The edge of her yellow bandana sticks up as Jane tilts her head at me. “That makes sense. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “No, it feels okay right now.” I mean it. Now that I’ve gotten into the swing of it, I do want to talk about it. Still, a small sigh escapes me. “I like being the Oracle, because that’s what brought me to a place where I feel like I belong and I have people who love me. It’s nice to know that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.”

Jane pulls her knees up to her chest. “But?”

“But I also get lonely.” It comes out in a rush. “There are other oracles, but I didn’t know about any of them until the Apollo thing happened, and even then, they’re all supernatural beings--I know, I know, but not in the way I am. It’s not the same. Also, there are all these weird rules. Like I have to stay an unmarried virgin my whole life.”

“That’s fucked,” Jane says softly.

“I know! Chiron won’t even tell me why, just that it’s ‘the rules’” I let out an annoyed huff. “And, like, it’s not even that the idea itself bothers me. That’s pretty much what I was planning to do with my life anyway.”

“Same.”

“But it’s the principle of the thing!” I flick a strand of hair out of my face, offhandedly noticing that the tip of my pinky finger is slightly green. I ignore it. It’s not important. “Just because I don’t want to have sex or get married doesn’t mean it’s a fair rule to impose on me! Besides, why is it always the women in these things whose identities are tied up in who they do or don’t fuck? Last I checked, Grover didn’t have to sign an ‘I shalt not fornicate’ contract when he became Lord of the Wild!”

“Exactly!” Jane raises her hands and shouts up to the sky. “Don’t you fuckers realize we’re more than that?”

“The Hunters of Artemis, too!” I’m a jack-in-the-box, and something’s winding me up. “Thalia and Reyna send me letters all the time, and they seem really happy! Which is great!” I pause to emphasize the greatness of their happiness. My pinky is completely green, now. “But, they also had to make a stupid ‘ode of chastity,’ like I did!”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane’s hair flips as she turns to me. “I thought Artemis was one of the good ones!”

My voice lowers to a husky rumble, and I stare into the distance towards you, the reader. “In a broken system, there are no good ones. Abolish the police.” I clear my throat and my voice turns back to normal. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.” My green pinky has begun to vibrate.

“Happens to the best of us,” Jane’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And yeah, I know. Pretty much all of the gods have skeletons sitting on their shoulders, but it just seems out of character for her. I thought all of Artemis’s groups were supposed to be safe havens, not oppressive structures in their own right.”

I frown. “Yeah you’re right, that is weird. I’d never thought of it much beyond the gods having weird rules, but I wonder if something bigger is at play. The gods might be fucked up in the way that regular people are, and are undoubtedly responsible for all sorts of crap. But then there's more personal things, like the ‘chastity vows’ the Hunters and I had to take, and the fact that Nico was initially outed by Eros, and the weird unexplained eye condition that Piper had during some of her quests that made her eyes a bunch of bright, Eurocentric colors, rather than their natural brown. All sorts of other stuff, too.”

“Wow!” Jane says, sitting up straight on the grass. Her hand moves from where it was resting in her lap to cover her heart. “It’s almost like a bunch of genuinely good and inspiring material, such as including prominent queer people and characters of color in fun children’s fantasy, as well as having an immortal group of warrior women who support each other and are free from the gaze of men, was taken into the hands of a cis white man armed with unchecked misogyny and a fair amount of white Twitter feminism, both of which really showed when he tried to create an inclusive and empowering book series for children! Like yeah, it had its moments, and definitely some good characters, but overall, a lack of meaningful research in certain areas really made it fall flat!” Once again, I stare through the bindings of URLs and internet coding, now joined by Jane as we lock eyes with you, the reader. This time, we hold eye contact for nearly a minute, giving you time to read and process the long tangent spat out by this fanfic’s author, who, if we’re being honest, has gone just a tad off the rails right now. Finally, Jane and I look away from you, and resume our roles as fictional characters, still shaking off that strange cloud that comes with staring into the soul of those who give you life.

“Ugh, what’s going on with me today?” Jane groans at the same time I mutter, “What’s Twitter?” We turn to each other, blinking in the sunlight, then grin. This is normal. We’re fine. Jane looks up at the sky again. “I wonder if the gods are watching us. Maybe we should make them think we suck so they’ll leave you alone.”

I laugh as she sticks her tongue out, grinning wickedly at a nearby cloud. “Better yet, make them think we’re too powerful to be messed with,” I say. Jane sees me watching her and opens her mouth, sucking the cloud in between her teeth. The sky seems bluer in the space where it had been, and Jane’s eyes glitter with mirth as she swallows. “Mmm, tastes like sugar.” I giggle, feeling a small shiver on the top of my head. When I peer up, I see another cloud has floated over to me. I open my own mouth, and take it in, just as Jane did hers. “Sugar, yes. But there’s a touch of blood, too,” I say. Jane nods sagely. “What were we talking about?”

“The inherent misogyny in much of Greek mythology and the world of Camp Half-Blood in general.”

Jane nods again. “Right. A very important topic. It makes it weird when I’m writing sometimes. You know, cause I want to bring in Circe and Zeus and Apollo and all these fascinating characters, but there’s just so much bad stuff tied up with them that comes up when I research.” She looks down at our feet, which are standing in the midst of a strawberry patch. We seem to have been walking, crushing sweet summer strawberries as we go, which is odd because I don’t remember getting up. “You know Rachel, I’m feeling a bit strange.”

I look at her, and see an odd blankness in her warm brown eyes. “Now that you mention it, Jane, so am I.”

“My thoughts and words are my own,” Jane says, “But there’s something up with my body. I can’t really feel it.”

“I agree, I’ve honestly gone a bit numb.” I try to glance down at my fingers, wondering idly if they’ve gotten any more green, but find that my neck won’t bend.

Jane’s eyebrows furrow. “Yet, at the same time, I feel as though I could do anything. Grow another grass blade. Grow a flower. Grow a tree. Bend the world to my will if I wanted to.”

“Or is it the world bending me to its will.” I grin at my own philosophical point, but find that the smile won’t go away. Pretty fucking inconvenient, since the next thing I was going to bring up was part of the whole serious misogyny conversation. I decide to go for it anyway. “And I’m not the only one with weird rules!” Jane nods, as if this is a perfectly normal segway, and the only extraneous thought that floats through my mind as we find ourselves walking down a hill is how unfair it is that she still has control over her neck and I don’t. “Remember when I told you about the Hunters of Artemis?”

“Oh yeah! Your friends Reyna and Thalia, right?”

“Yeah, them! They send me letters sometimes, and seem really happy, which is great.” I pause, meaning to add emphasis, when I’m hit with a great sensation of deja-vu. “Wait a second, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” I try to remember, but something in my mind is rapidly melting. I cannot find it. I cannot find anything.

“Jane?” My voice quivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh gods, please let this be a dream. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it’s the Oracle of Delphi taking over, just like she did the other day and generally does a couple times a year. But I know that I’m lying. This is not what that feels like. “Jane, where are you?” I can barely move my mouth to say the words. I can feel nothing but the frozen fear of paralysis, of lost control. When I open my eyes, this other thing in my body has brought me to the edge of the forest. “Jane? Jane?” She could be right beside me, unable to speak, and I wouldn’t know because I can’t turn my head, can’t move my eyes, can barely even hear right now.

It’s okay, something says.

“Jane?” It’s not her voice. It’s no one’s voice.

It’s okay. You’re home.

With every cut the wooden oars made through the choppy ocean water, Sabrina knew she was getting closer. She could feel it in her bones, in her brain, a little voice that whispered in her ear. It had been three hours. Her body was worn down, energy levels dipping dangerously low, when she felt something scrape the bottom of her boat.

A rock.

Frantically, she peered through the fog that had begun to surround her boat a mile ago. The island. Had she finally made it?

As if answering her call, a peel of thunder rang out, and Sabrina’s boat began to fill with rain that pounded down from the sky. The storm from her dream. She rowed even faster, then, fear sparking a renewed strength in her tired muscles.

Just as Sabrina was about to reach the shore, a massive wave crashed over her, and her boat capsized. She came back up, sputtering, holding her sopping wet bag above her head. Another wave swept against Sabrina’s face, and she found herself spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. Finally, she washed up on the shore, heaving breaths raking through her lungs.

Sabrina blinked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was real. She was here.

She had made it.

FROM THE POV OF ROSALIND PENDERWICK

It’s been a pleasant day so far. Breakfast with my siblings and some of the Demeter cabin (though Jane did seem a bit absent-minded). Miranda, Florien, and Rio convinced me to practice some plant magic with them for a couple hours and I built up to growing a small sunflower. Lunch (again with Jane seeming distracted, though Rachel ate with us this time, which appeared to help). Then, Skye and Jeffrey disappeared with some of the older campers (supposedly for a regular game of soccer, but the unsettling gleam in their eyes had me doubting that was all there was too it), Jane and Rachel went to take a walk in the strawberry fields, and Batty and I were left to prepare for a pegasus riding lesson. If it had been up to Batty, the latter could have easily taken up the entire afternoon, but changing into durable pants and finding a bandana can only take so long.

After a somewhat restless hour, during which I grew three peonies and Batty rhapsodized about the stable of unicorns that another demigod camp apparently has, Batty and I arrive at the stable. We’re ten minutes early, and she’s been talking a mile a minute the whole time, not stopping from before. I swear I now know as much about pegasuses as she does. According to Rachel, the teacher today is Percy, her friend, who’s very responsible “when he puts his mind to it.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her that’s actually not very comforting, but Batty looked so excited and I figured there will be plenty of other people there, so. Why not. She’s been spending so much time there anyway.

Needless to say, I very much regret my decision now.

The stables are modest, made of wood and painted green, and I’ve been there several times by now. There’s a long line of stalls visible when we first walk in, but Batty skips straight to the far end, where a massive pegasus the color of a carrot pokes its head over the door and nuzzles Batty’s hair. She looks up at me with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and pats the horse on the nose. “Rosy, this is Queen Lotus Flower. Percy said we have a impenetrable bond.”

I look at the two of them with a questioning gaze. How can they both have the exact same puppy-dog eyes? I swear to god. The gods. All of them. “Batty, sweetheart. That horse is like ten feet tall.”

She nods enthusiastically. “I know, she’s so much taller than any other horse I’ve seen. Percy says she has the biggest wingspan of any horse at camp.”

I nod, slowly, wondering why my sister picked the biggest pegasus to fall in love with. At that moment, Percy pushes the door open. “Hey Batty! Ready for your lesson?” Batty leaves her post by Queen Lotus Flower to wrap her arms around my waist and nod. I look Percy over. He’s a few inches taller than me, with brown skin and curly hair. A beaded camp necklace, orange tshirt, and jeans. Weird arm tattoo aside, he’s one of the most normal-looking people at camp. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but, my nerves over Batty flying around on massive horses aside, I do trust him. Rachel seems to have a good taste in friends. Also, Batty likes him, and she’s still shy around a good number of Skye and Jane’s friends back in Cameron.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Percy instructs Batty on buckling Queen Lotus Flower’s giant saddle and looping the bridle over her nose. Not wavering a bit from the “lesson” aspect of all this, he steps back to let her show what she’s already learned from hanging around the stables so often, only stooping in to guide her when she gets confused. As the minutes tick by, more people show up for the lesson: three other students, and a good sized crowd of people who just like watching the pegasuses. By then, I’m seated on the grass outside the stables, soaking in the blistering sun and watching as Percy (seated atop a wiry black pegasus who Batty pointed out as Blackjack) darts around the large dusty enclosure, making final preparations for the lesson.

Skye and Jeffrey show up then, and sit on either side of me. I want to ask them where Jane and Rachel are, but they’re talking non-stop about a game they just played in the woods with some of the other campers, only switching the subject when Percy and Blackjack return and they begin discussing whether or not it should be scientifically possible for a horse to fly.

Just as Batty and Queen Lotus Flower begin a gentle trot around the enclosure, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and hear the familiar sound of Tommy’s chuckle. “She’s got a weird knack for that,” he says. I nod, grinning.

It’s been good with us. We’ve had breakfast together a few times, even played a game of basketball one afternoon. Our conversations aren’t the same as they used to be, and there’s a sense of newness that feels cold and strange every so often. But it’s good. It feels right. At least for now, this feels like where we’re supposed to be.

As Percy starts demonstrating how to take flight, I look around again. Jane and Rachel still aren’t here. They promised to come. (“For moral support!” Jane had said. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel had added with a smile). I try to push it out of my head. This lesson is a big deal. Batty’s going to be flying.

She leans forward on Queen Lotus Flower’s neck.

They begin to run, moving together like a single being.

Just as they burst into the air, Batty’s euphoric smile lighting up the sky, Katie grabs my shoulders from behind. I shush her so I can lean forward and watch Batty silhouetted against the pegasus’s wide orange wings.

“Rosalind. Rosalind, guys. ” Something about the panic in Katie’s voice makes me turn around. Her usually tied back hair is loose and her clothes rumpled, giving the impression that she was dragged out of bed for this. (Some part of my brain distantly remembers her saying she was going to take a nap). Skye and Jeffrey turn around, too.

“What, what’s happening?” I reach out my hands, trying to calm her as she collapses into a squat, breathing heavily.

“Billie… found me in the cabin… had been looking for you guys… been running all over the camp… lucky I remembered about the riding lesson…”

Jeffrey leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She stares down at the dirt while her breathing levels.

“Katie, what are you saying? Why were you and Billie looking for us?”

She looks up, and I see that her forehead is drawn into well-worn creases of worry. “Jane and Rachel have gone into the woods.”

Something was wrong. Sabrina crouched on the wet sand, straining to see through the heavy rain. In her dream there had definitely been someone else on the island. She remembered the hunched figure, the sound of sobs leaking through the rain.

But she’d circled the shore at least twice by now, and there was nobody to be found. “Am I late or something?” she wondered aloud. Somehow, she’d gotten that dream It felt like it had been sent to her. Why did it show a person when there was no one?

Sabrina sighed and began to traipse inland, tucking a knife in her pocket. It wasn’t a big island, and she might as well find some shelter aside from her boat, which was now overturned somewhere on the beach. Circe lived here, didn’t she? There must be some sort of roof, especially if this kind of weather was standard.

Or maybe this was just a random island and there was no Aeaea and Sabrina’s dream had just been the unhinged work of her unconscious mind.

There was a small grassy hill set aside from the sand, which Sabrina crawled up with the determination of a dying warrior. Something was pushing her back. An invisible force, a last crumb of survival instinct, plain old fatigue, she wasn’t sure. But something wanted her out of here, and it pushed back harder and harder as she climbed.

She let out a cry of frustration, clawing at the ground, at the air, at whatever this goddamn thing was, and found a renewed burst of strength that pulled her to the top of the hill. Once there, the force that pushed back ebbed a little, like it was giving up. Sabrina let herself relax, and simply took in the view for a moment.

The hill she lay on top of gave way to a deep valley, sprawling and green. In one corner, there was a cluster of trees that looked healthy and comfortable, despite being on a random Greek island in the middle of the ocean. A modest garden lay next to it, somehow appearing unaffected by the rain, and a narrow river wound around the whole scene.

There was also a house.

Sabrina wasn’t sure what she might have expected from the lair of an infamous Greek enchantress, but it wasn’t this.

She hauled herself up on the hill and started down, rushing through the rain onto a wide wooden porch. There was a large stone vat of something dark and crumbly, with a heavy looking staff of sorts leaning against it. The door to the house was short, and Sabrina heard it scrape on the floor when she pushed it open.

The scene awaiting her was surprisingly cozy when she stepped inside. There was a fire in the hearth and rows upon rows of little viles arranged on a set of shelves beside it. A broom leaned against the wall. Sabrina looked around, noting the way that the rain didn’t make any sound as it thrashed against the roof and window, and the almost drug-like stupor that threatened to take over her brain, whispering that everything was fine, she was safe, nothing bad could happen to her.

Sabrina had encountered hypnosis before, and it only ever made her more jittery.

There was an open hatch in the floor with stairs that lead into darkness. She followed them down, feeling the air grow cooler with every step. Sabrina was quiet, taking tiny steps on her toes, and wincing when one of the stairs creaked. She didn’t know what was down there, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. But there were no arrows flying up from the space below, no sounds of footsteps or slashes of swords.

Sabrina stepped onto a dirt floor and let herself exhale, shuffling along until her toe hit something hard. Only seasoned reflexes made her reach for the knife in her pocket instead of crying out in fear. She knelt down and squinted in the darkness, trying to see what she’d hit.

A leg.

She frowned, shaking it until she heard a low growl. “Stop that.” She stopped.

“Who are you?” Sabrina leaned closer. If they hadn’t killed her yet she was probably safe.

Instead of answering, they reached out a hand. Sabrina could see a gold ring on the thumb that glinted in a little sliver of light that had crept down from the room above. “Pull me up,” the figure said. “I’ve been paralyzed by the witch.”

Helping the stranger sit turned out to be no simple feat. They were tall and muscular, wearing a cape and a heavy metal chest plate. “The witch?” she questioned, propping them up against one of the cellar’s dirt walls. Her eyes were beginning to adust to the dark, and she could just make out their sharp chin sticking out as their head lolled back.

The figure made a noise. “The witch, the sorceress, the woman. Whatever you want to call her. I figure she sent you down too?” They snorted. “Good luck. I told Zeus not to sent mortals, but does he ever listen? You’re gonna die.”

Sabrina tried to piece together what she could from all this. The witch must be Circe, unless she’d wound up on an entirely different island. And if Circe was going around paralyzing people, then something must be going on. She must be hiding something. As for the person in front of her, Sabrina wasn’t sure who they were. By the way they talked about Zeus, and casually said “mortals,” she’d guess some sort of god? As if that narrowed it down. She’d have to be careful.

“Why did she paralyze you?”

Another weird gutteral noise. “She didn’t like my offer. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

She was growing impatient. Why’d he have to be so vague? “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he always sends me. I don’t think he trusts me. He’d rather me stay her paralysed in the basement of a witch than come back home.”

Sabrina let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t working and she needed answers. A whole coast of people with mythology-shaped holes in their memories awaited her. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific. I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

The figure sounded confused. “What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”

She leaned forward and inspected them in the darkness. “No. No I don’t.”

They slid their eyes down to her face. “I am the god Apollo. I came here for Circe and she did this to me.”

“What? Why?”

The stairs creaked behind Sabrina and she felt a long nail drag up her back. “I just want to be left alone,” said a voice as deep and powerful as the smell of red wine. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before Sabrina could grab her knife and turn around, before she could even scream, strong arms had surrounded her shoulders and a hand was clamping a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Shock made her breath in, sharply, and she smelled the sweetness of sleeping drugs.

A heartbeat, a brief struggle, and Sabrina Starr was gone.

[iwouldvebeendrake01]

WOMEN IN FILM

Agnieszka Holland - director, The Secret Garden (1993) Alice Waddington - director, Paradise Hills (2019) Amma Asante - director, Belle (2013), A United Kingdom (2016) Amy Heckerling - director, Look Who’s Talking (1989), Clueless (1995) Angela Workman - writer, The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017), Longbourn (?) Angelina Jolie - director, By the Sea (2015), First They Killed My Father (2017) Anna Boden - director, It’s Kind of a Funny Story (2010), Captain Marvel (2019) Anna Kendrick - exec. producer, Dummy (?), Love Life (?) Anne Fletcher - director, The Proposal (2009), Dumplin’ (2018) Ava DuVernay - director, Selma (2014), A Wrinkle in Time (2018) Barbara Streisand - director, Yentl (1983) Brenda Chapman - director, The Prince of Egypt (1998), Brave (2012) Brie Larson - director, Unicorn Store (2017) Bryce Dallas Howard - director, Dads (2019), The Mandalorian Ch. 4 (2019) Carey Mulligan - exec. producer, Promising Young Woman (2020) Cate Shortland - director, Lore (2012), Black Widow (2020) Cathy Yan - director, Birds of Prey (2020) Céline Sciamma - director, Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) Chanya Button - director, Vita & Virginia (2018) Charlize Theron - producer, Monster (2003), Atomic Blonde (2017), Bombshell (2019) Chloé Zhao - director, Eternals (2020) Claire McCarthy - director, Ophelia (2018), The Luminaries (?) Debbie Allen - director, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (1990), The Twilight Zone (2003) Deborah Chow - director, The Mandalorian Ch. 3, Ch. 7 (2019), Obi-Wan Series (?) Debra Granik - director, Winter’s Bone (2010) Desiree Akhavan - director, Appropriate Behavior (2014) Diablo Cody - writer, Jennifer’s Body (2009), Young Adult (2011) Dorota Kobiela - director, Loving Vincent (2017) Drew Barrymore - director, Whip It (2009) Elizabeth Banks - director, Pitch Perfect 2 (2015), Charlie’s Angels (2019) Elizabeth Olsen - exec. producer, Sorry for Your Loss (2018–) Emma Stone - exec. producer, Maniac (2018) Emma Thompson - writer, Sense and Sensibility (1995), Last Christmas (2019) Gal Gadot - producer, Wonder Woman 1984 (2020), Hedy Lamarr Mini-Series (2020–) Gillian Armstrong - director, Little Women (1994), Death Defying Acts (2007) Greta Gerwig - director, Lady Bird (2017), Little Women (2019), Barbie (?) Gurinder Chadha - director, Bride & Prejudice (2004), Blinded by the Light (2019) Jamie Babbit - director, Supergirl (2016), The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (2018) Jane Goldman - writer, Stardust (2007), X-Men: First Class (2011), Rebecca (2020) Jennifer Lee - writer, Frozen (2013), Zootopia (2016), Frozen II (2019) Jerusha Hess - writer, Napoleon Dynamite (2004), Nacho Libre (2006), Austenland (2013) Jessica Chastain - producer, I Am Jane Doe (2017), 355 (2021) Joanna Hogg - director, Unrelated (2007), Archipelago (2010), The Souvenir (2019) Josie Rourke - director, Coriolanus (2014), Mary Queen of Scots (2018) Julia Ducournau - director, Raw (2016), Titane (2020) Julie Taymor - director, Frida (2002), Across the Universe (2007), The Glorias (2020) Karen Gillan - director, The Party’s Just Beginning (2018) Kari Skogland - director, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2020–) Karyn Kusama - director, Æon Flux (2005), Jennifer’s Body (2009), Destroyer (2018) Kate Mara - producer, My Days of Mercy (2017), A Teacher (2020–) Kathryn Bigelow - director, The Hurt Locker (2008), Zero Dark Thirty (2012) Katt Shea - director, Poison Ivy (1992), Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase (2019) Kay Cannon - writer, New Girl (2012-2013), Girlboss (2017), Cinderella (2021) Kelly Fremon Craig - director, The Edge of Seventeen (2016)  Lana & Lilly Wachowski - directors, The Matrix (1999), Cloud Atlas (2012) Laura Lau - director, Silent House (2011) Leslye Headland - writer, Terriers (2010), Bachelorette (2012), Russian Doll (2019–) Lindsey Beer - writer, Chaos Walking (2020), The Kingkiller Chronicle (?), Silver Sable (?) Lois Weber - director, A Heroine of ‘76 (1911), The Angel of Broadway (1927) Lone Scherfig - director, An Education (2009), One Day (2011), Their Finest (2016) Lorene Scafaria - director, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (2012), Hustlers (2019) Lucia Aniello - director, Rough Night (2017), Broad City (2014-2019) Lupita Nyong’o - producer, In My Genes (2009), Americanah (2020–) Lynne Ramsay - director, We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011) Madonna - director, Filth and Wisdom (2008), W.E. (2011) Margot Robbie - exec. producer, Gotham City Sirens (?), Modern Shakespeare Project (?) Marielle Heller - director, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019) Marjane Satrapi - director, Persepolis (2007), The Voices (2014), Radioactive (2020) Marti Noxon - writer, Fright Night (2011), To the Bone (2017), Sharp Objects (2018) Mary Harron - director, American Psycho (2000), Alias Grace (2017), Charlie Says (2018) Mary Pickford - writer, The Awakening (1909), Rags (1915), A Girl of Yesterday (1915) Michelle Williams - exec. producer, Blue Valentine (2010), Fosse/Verdon (2019) Millie Bobby Brown - producer, Enola Holmes (2020) Mimi Leder - director, Deep Impact (1998), On the Basis of Sex (2018) Nancy Meyers - director, The Parent Trap (1998), The Holiday (2006), The Intern (2015) Naomi Watts - exec. producer, Gypsy (2017), The Wolf Hour (2019) Natalie Dormer - writer, In Darkness (2018) Natalie Portman - director, A Tale of Love and Darkness (2015) Nia DaCosta - director, Little Woods (2018), Candyman (2020) Niki Caro - director, Whale Rider (2002), The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017), Mulan (2020) Noomi Rapace - producer, Stockholm (2018), Close (2019), Hearts of Stone (2020) Nora Ephron - director, Sleepless in Seattle (1993), You’ve Got Mail (1998), Julie & Julia (2009) Octavia Spencer - exec. producer, Green Book (2018), Self Made (2020–) Olivia Wilde - director, Booksmart (2019) Patty Jenkins - director, Monster (2003), Wonder Woman (2017), I Am the Night (2019) Penélope Cruz - producer, Twice Born (2012), Ma ma (2015), The Queen of Spain (2016) Penny Marshall - director, Big (1988), A League of Their Own (1992) Phoebe Waller-Bridge - writer, Fleabag (2016-2019), No Time to Die (2020) Quiara Alegría Hudes - writer, In the Heights (2020), Vivo (2021) Rachel Weisz - producer, The Shape of Things (2003), Radiator (2014), Disobedience (2017) Rashida Jones - writer, Black Mirror: Nosedive (2016), Toy Story 4 (2019) Rebecca Hall - director, Passing (2020) Reese Witherspoon - producer, Penelope (2006), Gone Girl (2014), Tinker Bell (?) Robin Wright - director, House of Cards (2014-2018), Land (?) Ruth Wilson - exec. producer, Mrs. Wilson (2018) Sally Potter - director, Orlando (1992), The Man Who Cried (2000) Salma Hayek - producer, Frida (2002), Ugly Betty (2006-2010), The Prophet (2014) Sandra Bullock - exec. producer, George Lopez (2002-2007), The Proposal (2009) Scarlett Johansson - exec. producer, The Whale (2011), Black Widow (2020) Sofia Coppola - director, Lost in Translation (2003), The Beguiled (2017) Susanna White - director, Bleak House (2005), Jane Eyre (2006), Woman Walks Ahead (2017) Susanne Bier - director, Serena (2014), The Night Manager (2016), Bird Box (2018) Tessa Thompson - exec. producer, Little Woods (2018), Sylvie’s Love (2020) Thea Sharrock - director, The Hollow Crown: Henry V (2012), Me Before You (2016) Thea von Harbou - writer, Destiny (1921), Metropolis (1927), Woman in the Moon (1929) Tina Fey - writer, Mean Girls (2004), Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (2015-2019) Valerie Faris - director, Battle of the Sexes (2017), Living with Yourself (2019–) Vanessa Taylor - writer, Divergent (2014), The Shape of Water (2017) Zoe Kazan - writer, Ruby Sparks (2012), Wildlife (2018) Zoe Lister-Jones - director, Band Aid (2017), Woman Up (?), The Craft (?) Zoe Saldana - producer, Rosemary’s Baby (2014), The Honor List (2018), From Scratch (2020–) Zooey Deschanel - exec. producer, New Girl (2011-2018)

[osborgs]

Reelers CH: Maidy ensina como produzir conteúdos de cosplay no Instagram

A terceira temporada da série Reelers CAPRICHO continua com tudo! Desde o lançamento da ferramenta, a CH e o Instagram desenvolveram vídeos que te ajudam com inspirações e dicas incríveis para os seus conteúdos bombarem na rede social. O nosso oitavo episódio é perfeito para quem ama vídeos de cosplay!

Maidy é a nossa Reeler CH da semana@dearmaidy/Instagram/Reprodução

A @dearmaidy, nossa Reeler da semana, vai ter contar as melhores dicas para gravar vídeos de cosplay! Por exemplo, qual áudio usar, como encontrar inspirações e como planejar a make! Dá o play:

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Calma que ainda tem mais! A Maidy também nos revelou algumas curiosidades sobre seu processo criativo. Confira:

CH: O que é único do seu processo criativo?

Maidy: Acho que é a minha personalidade, o que me faz pensar nas possibilidades mais diferentes possíveis. Comecei criando na internet com zero recursos, então desde o começo tive que improvisar com o que eu tinha e acho esses desafios a parte mais legal do meu processo.

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CH: Se você pudesse definir o seu estilo de conteúdo no Reels em uma frase, como seria?

Maidy: Louca, louquinha! Mas vou te contar um segredo: as melhores pessoas são. (Íconico, Chapeleiro Maluco).

CH: Qual foi um Reels que você AMOU fazer? E o que mais bombou?

Maidy: Tenho um carinho enorme por todos eles, mas amo os que me transformo em personagens superdiferentes de mim, como personagens de terror ou o Chapeleiro, que tenho que atuar mais. E o que mais bombou foi o que virei a The Fiti de Moana, amei demais fazer esse também!

CH: Quem são as suas maiores inspirações e quem você ama seguir no Instagram?

Maidy: Me inspiro muito em personagens, o Chapeleiro Maluco é um que me inspira demais. Personagens guerreiras também, como Raya e Mulan. No Instagram me inspiro muito na Thalita Sampaio, Mari Araujo, na The Gurriti, são conteúdos bem diferentes, mas que eu amo demais! (E óbvio, seguir muitos, mais muitos perfis de animaizinhos HAHAHAHA).

CH: O que te inspira fora das redes?

Maidy: Minha mãe me inspira muito e foi com ela que aprendi a improvisar com o que eu tinha e ser forte. Natureza também me inspira muito assim como músicas.

E aí, já sabe qual personagem será o escolhido para o seu Reels de cosplay?

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