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Kaz loving magic tricks as a boy and falling in love with a girl who can dissapear. Inej being told to find a boy who remembers her favorite flower, and falling in love with a boy who remembers her most important dreams. Jesper losing the one person who saw him as blessed and falling in love with a boy who sees him as even more than that. Wylan seeing magic in every mundane thing, and falling in love with a boy with magic in his veins. Nina growing up knowing she would always be targeted and falling in love with a boy who vows to protect her. Matthias losing his love for the world as a child and falling in love with a girl who loves even the simplest of pleasures.

No one writes romance like Leigh Bardugo

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NOT A MAMMAL... fucking slayed me.

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whatever you do, don’t think about how much it must have meant for kaz to hear inej say “it isn’t easy for me either.”

leigh herself has said that she wrote kaz’s backstory and trauma as a way to isolate him in every way possible. he has spent the last 8 years without true emotional connections AND incredibly touch-starved. he has to give up the hope of ever being normal and becomes extra ruthless as a way of further isolating himself so no one will go near him. sure, there’s probably others in ketterdam who have lived on the streets. there’s definitely other people who have been conned out of their money and who have lost family members. but this particular trauma is so isolating and so unique to kaz that he had probably convinced himself no one would ever understand that particular pain.

and then comes inej, a girl who’s suffered so much, and she sees kaz and tells him “it isn’t easy for me either.” she’s the first person who shows kaz that he’s not alone in that pain and that healing is possible! no wonder he falls for her.

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'These apps are the enemy. They're thoughtless, joyless, and our friends are powerless aginst them."

Leverage Redemption S03E06 The Swipe Right Job.

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6 Quick Writing Exercises to Wake Up Your Imagination

We all hit those blah writing days. Your fingers are ready, your doc is open... and your brain goes static. That’s where writing exercises come in — small creative boosts to shake off the dust and get back into your story flow. Here are six to try when your words feel stuck in traffic.

1. The 5-Minute Word Sprint

Pick a random word (use a generator or close your eyes and point at a book), set a 5-minute timer, and write anything involving that word. No stopping, no deleting.

2. Dialogue Without Context

Write a short convo between two people. No descriptions. No setting. Just back-and-forth lines.

3. Rewrite a Scene in Another Genre

Take a scene from your current story and flip the genre. Drama becomes comedy. Fantasy becomes sci-fi. Romance becomes horror.

4. Describe a Place Using the Five Senses — No Sight Allowed

Can’t mention what anything looks like. Only sound, touch, smell, taste, and intuition.

5. Character Swap POVs

Write a paragraph from the POV of a side character reacting to your main character. Bonus if the POV is brutally honest or completely wrong.

6. One Line Story Hooks

Write 3 one-sentence story starters that make you want to keep writing. (Example: “I woke up married to my enemy, and worse — he knew it before I did.”)

You don’t need to write a masterpiece every day. But showing up — even for a silly exercise — keeps the creative part of your brain warmed up. Try one of these before your next writing session, and see where it takes you. 🍒

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It really is 2003 again Jesus Tapdancing Christ.

Like, all Republicans did was replace Iraq and gay people with Iran and trans people.

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Everyones favourite zemeni sharpshooter 💰

Jesper, my beloved!

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coworkers: have any fun plans for the weekend?

me:

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So this is just a PSA, y'all should never sign a contract until you read it. I’m talking in rl right now. I just got through reading my employee handbook/service contract and my bosses slipped in a lot of bullshit like telling me I can’t complain about my job on social media, demanding I work off the clock in the name of good service, expects me to show up on time during inclimate weather, and considered disability or religious accommodation a direct threat to the company.

These are all things I took issue with and brought to my employer for further discussion before signing the contract. Most of my coworkers signed without reading, treating it like an internet terms of service contract.

Tl;dr real life is serious shit, lawyers write contracts to protect your employer FROM YOU, read contracts before you sign them - fucking ARGUE about contracts before you sign them

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Six of Crows: A Comic Adaptation

Part 1, Chapter 4 (Color Edition)

Pages 13–16

Previous Pages

Download the Comics

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With the heat rising, here's your reminder that some medications can screw with your body's ability to thermoregulate. These include some diuretics, antipsychotic medications, antidepressants, and anti-hypertensive agents. And some medications can increase sensitivity from sun exposure, meaning you might end up with hives or a rash from too much sun. Take care y'all!

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Honestly the Murderbot show is doing a great job showing the difference its helmet makes. At first I thought they’d want it down most of the show so we could see Alexander’s face (ya know, because they hired an actor and not a stunt double), but it’s really becoming clear that the helmet being on or off is part of the story. And honestly helmet!Murderbot IS significantly scarier.

Murderbot with its helmet on (especially with the robotic voice treatment) is a (literally) faceless killing machine, and no one knows what it’s going to do next. Murderbot with its helmet off is a perpetually confused, anxious, and stressed person who wants to get this over with so it can go back to its shows and be left alone.

This adds a lot of nuance to whenever the PresAux team asks/begs it to take its helmet off. The team desperately needs to gauge its “human” facial expressions in order to feel safe vs. please god let me stay in my helmet if they see all my involuntary facial reactions they’re going to Ask About My Feelings again.

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This Rose Pattern is my favorite: Scrappy Log Cabin Roses Once you make the Rose Block you can make sashing that have small leaves. You can find the tutorial for the Rose Block here: www.Newquilters.com/how-to-sew-rose-quilt-block-stitch-flip-piecing-tutorial/

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No, app on my phone, I don't want to edit it with AI. I don't want to generate with AI. I don't want to ask the AI. I don't want to make AI wallpapers. I don't want to rewrite with AI. I don't want t-

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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.