1,4,7,16,19 for the asks!
So many! thank you, sweet anon!
Song of the year?
I was obsessed with several songs throughout the year. I think for the longest part it was a song called I Was a Fool by Tom Hugo and Alexandra Rotan. So I'm gonna go with that.
4. Movie of the year?
I didn't watch many movies this year! One I remember fondly is Downton Abbey: A New Era. It was so much fun. A real feel-good movie.
7. Favorite actor of the year?
Oooof. You're asking the difficult questions here 😁I actually don't know. No one comes to mind if I'm honest.
16. Post a picture from the beginning of the year
19. What’re you excited about for next year?
I wish I knew. This is the first year in forever that I have nothing to look forward to. There's absolutely nothing in my future. I hope I will be able to find something I can be excited about.
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The funny thing about the PJO cabin system is that everyone's always all 'oh the twelve' this and 'the twelve' that but that's absolutely not even remotely accurate. To start, right off the bat it's thirteen, not twelve, because they don't count Hades. But not really because before Percy, there were no big three kids, so we're down to ten active cabins already but it's actually eight because Artemis and Hera don't make demigods.
And of those eight, Mr. D is stuck at camp (thus not really making new demigods all that often) and his only two kids don't even sleep in a cabin, they sleep in the Big House with him.
So, pre-Percy, there are seven active cabins at Camp Half-Blood:
Glee club, the Jocks, the Nerds, the Geeks, the Farmers, the 'Sketchy Kids' and the Popular Kids.
Or, in other words, the Apollo, Ares, Athena, Hephaestus, Demeter, Hermes (and the unclaimed kids) and Aphrodite cabins.
What's cool is that you can already see the cabin dynamics in the show. For example, the Athena cabin allies with the Hermes cabin for the numbers. The Hermes kids plus all the unclaimed kids? It's the biggest cabin in the camp by far. It's a battle strategy. Luke and Annabeth's close relationship is just the cherry on top for Annabeth. It'll be really cool to see how the show develops the differences in the cabins during the series.
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anyway, Elden Ring is about love and hope
Marika burns everything she has build out of sorrow
Ranni banishes the Outer Gods and also fucks off the Lands, giving agency back to the normal beings of the Lands
Fortissax endlessly fights Death for his friend/lover
Melina burns herself and Erdtree in hopes of a better world in the hands of the Tarnished
Blaidd fights against the very reason he was created out of love for his sister
Ranni and Rykard always keep an eye on their mother, protecting her
Radahn evokes so much love from his troops that they organise a whole festival to give him a honorable death even in his madness
Radahn learns an entire new school of magic in order to still ride his favourite horse
Boc's love for his mother, his mother's love for him
How all but two endings are build on the hope that this new era (whatever it might be) will be good
Miquella attempting to create an whole new world-tree to host the forsaken and the damned
Miquella turning on the faith he was raised and even believed in to an extent, when it was unable to cure his sister's curse
The Cleanrot's loyalty to Malenia and their endurance of the Rot, only to stay in her service
Malenia marching through the entire continent in search of her brother
Finlay traveling all the way back on her own, carrying the incapacitated demigod on her back
Tanith's love for Rya
Dialos' entire questline
Edgar being driven mad after his daughter dies
Vyke embracing, to a point, the Frenzied Flame in order to save his finger maiden
or you know, that's just how I see it
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I used to dream of finding Home.
Somewhere between my tweens and my teens, the house my family lived in stopped feeling like a comfortable pocket where I belonged and started feeling more like a roomshare with strangers.
I'd read a lot of books. A lot of stories about outsiders and misfits who fell into grand adventures that led them into perfect little keyhole they were destined to slide into. I thought that someday, in a much less exciting or eventful way, the same would happen to me. If I worked very hard to be good and kind and forgiving then I'd stumble into Home.
It never happened.
I moved from town to city to country, and didn't find it. Every building felt the same, no matter how long I stayed. None of them felt natural, or easy, or safe.
I was living in a dilapidated loft above a busted-out mortuary when I figured it out.
No running water. No heat. No AC. No furniture or mattress or internet, and a dusty bathroom with a broken toilet and a sink inexplicably pre-filled with cigarette butts, and it finally clicked.
I ripped out the old carpet. Swept the floors. Taped the sun out of the windows with foil and foam and big black garbage bags. Cleaned off an old shelf, stole a cot, piled all my blankets on top of it, painted pictures and taped them to the walls and spray-painted a mural and leaned a tarnished old mirror up against the wall.
I found a room divider in an old office room and took a lamp left out with the trash and set up an empty coffee pot with cheap silk flowers. Hung a shower curtain in the morgue and turned a storage bin into a bath and hooked my towel on a loose nail stuck into the wall.
And when I left, and left everything behind, I found another little empty hole in the world and did it all over again.
That's something I don't think I could have learned from all my stories. It's not something very interesting to read about, some lonely stranger puttering about by themselves in a hot, dark room. But it's important to share it, I think, so I've done my best.
I think that a Place is a beast, and to make it a Home, you have to dig in your claws and fight for it, tooth and nail.
Then, once you've tired it out, string up lights below it's ribcage and pet it nice between the ears until it purrs.
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