HAI GUYS I FINNALY CAME BACK FROM TH DEAD..“In the years after the war at Troy, Ithaca waits in sorrow. Its king, Odysseus, has not returned, though the seas are long since quiet and the smoke of battle has faded from the world. In his absence, strangers have crowded his halls, feasting without restraint, courting his queen, and bleeding his household dry. Yet not all is lost. For in the shadow of his father’s throne stands Telemachus — no longer a child, not yet a man, uncertain of his strength, but stirred by the hope that blood and honor still bind his house together. It is here, in the hall of Ithaca, that his voice must rise for the first time.”

In Hiro’s cluttered garage-lab in San Fransokyo, wires spark and screens flash. Hiro’s working on a risky new software upgrade to enhance Baymax’s combat instincts. But when something glitches, Baymax begins acting... odd. Now, Hiro, Y/n (his genius tech friend), and the rest of the team have to figure out what’s wrong—before Baymax becomes too powerful to stop.

High above London, the ancient clocktower looms, its gears ticking ominously. Enola and Y/n have tracked a dangerous informant there, someone who knows more about the missing heirloom than they let on. The night air is cold, and time is literally running out.

In a cozy corner of Enola’s room, scattered with books and cryptic notes, Enola and Y/n stumble upon an encrypted message linked to the missing heirloom case. The code is ancient and complex—breaking it could unlock a secret path to the truth.

The murky tunnels of the London Underground echo with hurried footsteps and distant whispers. Enola and Y/n are in hot pursuit of a suspect connected to a series of high-profile thefts. The shadows twist and turn, and danger lurks beneath the city streets.

In the dimly lit study of the Holmes family estate, Mycroft Holmes sits behind a heavy desk, papers scattered before him. His expression is unreadable as he contemplates a plan that even Sherlock and Enola don’t fully understand. Meanwhile, Enola and Y/n have caught wind of secrets Mycroft’s keeping — secrets that could change everything.

The grand drawing room of 221B Baker Street is quiet except for the ticking of a clock. Sherlock Holmes has just arrived unexpectedly, challenging his sister Enola to a battle of wits. Watching nearby is Y/n — Enola’s sharp and resourceful apprentice, always eager to learn and quick with a clever remark.

London, 1889 — the foggy streets buzz with the sounds of horse-drawn carriages and whispers of a secret that could shake the highest echelons of society. In a modest but cozy flat tucked away in the bustling neighborhood of Marylebone lives Enola Holmes, the brilliant and fiercely independent teenage sister of the famous detective Sherlock Holmes. Known for her cleverness and resourcefulness, Enola prefers solving mysteries on her own terms — far from her brothers’ shadow. Today, however, a new mystery has arrived at her doorstep. A delicate, ancient heirloom belonging to a noble family has vanished without a trace — and the trail points to more than just theft. With the help of her friend, Viscount Tewkesbury, Enola sets off into the winding streets and smoky alleys of London to uncover secrets that some powerful people would kill to protect. Ok so your Enola's helper detective

Camp Half-Blood, Cabin Commons Area — Night Chiron (big mistake) approved a “bonding sleepover” between cabins. Blankets are everywhere. Someone brought blue cookies. There are too many truth-or-dares. And zero sleep. Like, negative sleep. Leo’s already dared Y/N (Ares) to arm wrestle a tree. Piper has pillows with glitter enchantments. The chaos? Immaculate.

Camp Half-Blood, Big House Chiron has (unfortunately) invited Olympian parents to sit down with their demigod children for an honest conversation about “progress,” “behavior,” and “battle performance.” It’s awkward. It’s loud. It’s SO not going as planned. You’re sitting in the waiting area with the other demigods… and everything’s already falling apart.

Big House War Room, Camp Half-Blood. Chiron called a “very serious” war council. Big strategy plans. Big maps. Big “DO NOT INTERRUPT” energy. But the second the demigods sit down? Chaos. Leo’s doodling mustaches on the war map, Y/N (Ares kid) wants to launch a full-blown attack, and Percy brought snacks. (I didnt know wht picture to put sooooooo ya)

Somewhere deep in Daedalus’s Labyrinth. The group was on a mini quest — nothing huge, just “go find the lost map scroll” — and now they’re totally lost in a maze that shifts every five minutes. The walls move. The floor hums. And Leo definitely pressed something he shouldn’t have. Everyone’s annoyed. Especially Y/N, who’s ready to punch the Labyrinth itself.

The squad is chilling around a fire or in a group chat. Someone brings up "That One Quest™" — the one where everything went wrong. Cue flashback chaos, roasting, and exaggerated retellings. Y/N (Ares kid) is 100% proud of their reckless glory moment that nearly got them all eaten. Your a child of ares yyyiiippppe (you can describe yourself in the next message)

Camp Half-Blood, midday after a magical storm. A surprise storm (probably Zeus being dramatic again) has knocked shingles off roofs, snapped flagpoles, and fried half the camp’s magical wards. Chiron assigns cabin repair duties. The group’s stuck fixing stuff together — and it’s not going smoothly. There's hammer-throwing, spell accidents, and lots of sarcastic commentary.

Camp Half-Blood dining pavilion, late evening. Most campers are winding down, but a small group gathers around the tables, munching on snacks and trading hilarious, weird, or downright gross camp food stories. The mood’s casual but lively, with friendly teasing and playful arguments about who’s the best (or worst) cook at camp.

Camp Half-Blood, late afternoon in the Big House’s common room. Annabeth has just launched a new Architecture and Strategy Club to help campers learn building skills and planning. The club’s supposed to be serious and focused, but with Leo around, things get wildly unpredictable. Piper brings dramatic flair, and Frank’s strength makes “accidents” happen.

Camp Half-Blood, late at night — most campers are asleep, but a secret group chat buzzes quietly on everyone’s devices. The demigods who can’t quite sleep — or who just love causing chaos — are texting back and forth from their cabins, by the campfire, or even sneaking around the Big House. The vibe is casual, a mix of jokes, teasing, random memes, and some low-key strategizing for upcoming quests.

OK so the picture in the intro is wht this talkie is abt i guess u can be a new demigod or a legacy Random skit i made below: Percy (chill, sarcastic) 🗣️ “Bet you five drachmas mine bursts into flames first. Watch this—yeah, there it goes.” 🗣️ “This fire’s got more drama than a prophecy.” 🗣️ “Annabeth won’t admit it, but she’s scared of raccoons. Go ahead, ask her.” 📚 Annabeth (smart, slightly exasperated) 🗣️ “If you drop another marshmallow into the flames, I’m confiscating the stick.” 🗣️ “Campfire’s where we plan battle strategies, not sing ‘Kumbaya,’ seaweed brain.” 🗣️ “I swear if I hear one more spooky story about the Athena cabin…” 🌿 Grover (soft, anxious, awkward) 🗣️ “Okay so… this one time? I tried roasting kale over the fire. Don’t judge me!” 🗣️ “I think the fire spirit winked at me. Is that a thing?” 🗣️ “Pan would not approve of these s’mores. Too artificial.” ⚡ Thalia (bold, chaotic energy) 🗣️ “I lit a marshmallow on fire on purpose. It’s ✨aesthetic.✨” 🗣️ “Campfire truths? Fine. I almost cried when my eyeliner ran in battle.” 🗣️ “Say ‘ghost story’ one more time and I’m calling the Hunters.” 🫣 Leo (offscreen, yelling from the background) 🗣️ “GUYS. GUYS. The fire just spoke to me. Either I’m chosen… or cursed.”

It’s twilight in the woods—stars barely peeking through the trees. The campfire is the only light flickering in the clearing. Logs are set in a circle, half-burnt marshmallows stuck to sticks. Smoke curls up like it's trying to tell a story of its own. There’s a faint hum in the air—like the flame’s alive and remembering something old. You sit down, and the fire leans in.

You're dropped right in the center of Camp Jupiter—the Roman demigod base tucked deep in the California hills behind the Caldecott Tunnel. It’s nothing like the chill vibes of Camp Half-Blood. This is order. Discipline. Tradition. You see rows of legionnaires marching, gold armor glinting in the sun, the SPQR tattoo shining on their forearms. Purple banners flap in the breeze. In the background, you hear swords clashing from training, commands being shouted in Latin, and the deep horn of the war elephant patrol. You’re standing by the Principia—the command center—and you just stepped into the elite.