-Bence engellilik değil ama dediği gibi, gözlük lazımsa gözlük takmaya hakkımız olmalı.-
Do you consider ADHD or/and Autism a disability? These conditions are classified as developmental disabilities, which means they affect how a person grows and learns.
They are not the same as learning disabilities, which affect specific skills like reading or math. People with developmental disabilities have the right to receive accommodations in their work and school environments, such as extra time, breaks, or assistive technology. However, some people may feel reluctant to ask for these accommodations, because they don't want to label themselves as disabled. I think this is the wrong way of thinking. I compare it to my situation of having poor eyesight. Without glasses or contacts, I see very little, just blurry blobs. Does that make me disabled? Maybe, but I don't let it stop me from living my life. I use glasses and contacts to correct my vision and make it easier for me to function and it is never questioned. Asking for help for ADHD and Autism related challenges should be seen in the same way as wearing glasses.
On Foucault's reading, Baudelaire's modernity is an attitude that finds something eternally valuable in the present moment, while at the same time striving to transform it not by destroying it, but by grasping it in what it is.
See you next book
Fight it, he willed her, sending the words down the bond—the mating
bond, which perhaps had settled into place that first moment they’d become
carranam, hidden beneath flame and ice and hope for a better future. Fight
her. I am coming for you. Even if it takes me a thousand years. I will find
you, I will find you, I will find you.
Only salt and wind and water answered him.
Rowan rose to his feet. And slowly turned to face them.
But their attention snagged on the ships now sailing out of the west—
from the battle site. His cousins’ ships, with what remained of the fleet
Ansel of Briarcliff had won for them, and Rolfe’s three ships.
But it was not those boats that made him pause.
It was the one that rounded the eastern tip of the land—a longboat. It
swept closer on a phantom wind, too fast to be natural.
Rowan braced himself. The boat’s shape didn’t belong to any of the
fleets assembled. But its style nagged at his memory.
From their own fleet, Ansel of Briarcliff and Enda were soaring over the
waves in a longboat, aiming for this beach.
But Rowan and the others watched in silence as the foreign boat crested
through the surf and slid onto the sand.
Watched the olive-skinned sailors haul it up the beach. A broadshouldered young man nimbly leaped out, his slightly curling dark hair
tossed in the sea breeze.
He did not emit a whiff of fear as he stalked for them—didn’t even go
for the comforting touch of the fine sword at his side.
“Where is Aelin Galathynius?” the stranger asked a bit breathlessly as
he scanned them.
And his accent …
“Who are you,” Rowan ground out.
But the young man was now close enough that Rowan could see the
color of his eyes. Turquoise—with a core of gold.
Aedion breathed as if in a trance, “Galan.”
Drawing inspiration from the idea that every book has a unique flavour that would appeal differently to its readers, she hoped that by naming the shop a book kitchen, it would become a space where people could enjoy some reading time and rest their weary hearts. Like how food comforts the soul, she hoped, too, that the delicious smell of paper and books would make her guests feel comfortable enough to shed the burden of bottled-up feelings, and to embrace some moments of solace and warmth.
He knows Things
I turn to look at the darkening sky outside, and another bolt of lightning
spears the clouds.
Hugging myself, I remember what Darius said all those months ago. I’d
suspected it for a while, and I’d seen it when we’d fought the basilisk.
There are rumors that Talan can not only control dreams, but the weather.
I cock my head. “Tell me, Talan. Why would anyone keep a primal
power a secret? Everyone thinks they’re gone from the world, but you
control the weather, don’t you?”
A flicker of surprise crosses his features. “The weather responds to my
magic. I wouldn’t say I have much control, and if I did, I would most
certainly keep it a secret, just like you tried to hide yours from me.”
“Right, because we both know what happened when you discovered
mine. Now, I’m your plaything.”
His eyes glitter like dark jewels, and his gaze sweeps down my body,
then up again. The dark, velvety feel of his magic wraps around me, making
my pulse race. “Not nearly as much as I’d like you to be.”
I stare up at him. “You and I don’t exactly go together.”
“And yet here we are, the only two people in the world with primal
powers. And I think you like me more than you let on. Even if you know
I’m evil down to my bones, some part of you wants a taste of my poison.
Underneath your pretty little uptight farm girl exterior, you hunger for
chaos. You crave adventure. You want the freedom to make bad decisions.”
His voice drops low, and a dangerous edge slides through his words. “And
what’s a worse decision than me?”
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the resonance of his words. After years
of trying to balance my mom’s bank account and make enough rent money
for both of us, sometimes I wanted to break everything. Burn it all down.
“And what led you to that conclusion?”
“You always had to be the
BUSTED
With Nivene’s arm looped through mine, we walk into the snowy forest.
I’m wearing a cloak over my shoulders, and the sun has started to break
through the winter clouds. Still, the cold bites my skin.
Griflet stands by an oak tree and waves to us as we approach. We reach
him, and he leads us beneath a canopy of gnarled branches. Sunlight pierces
the twisted boughs, and icicles hang from the hawthorn trees like jewels.
As I walk, the ferns curling from the snow brush against my gown.
Talan stands by a wooden altar carved from an enormous oak trunk with
intricate swirls and twisting vines. It must have been here for ages because
it is clearly worn by time.
He looks perfect, as always. He’s wearing a perfectly fitted black suit
and a silver collar of order draped over his broad chest. In the center of the
collar is his ouroboros sigil. The midnight blue fabric of his garments looks
soft and seems to absorb the light.
His dark eyes find mine, and as they do, the air feels warmer, heavier.
Sometimes, when I look at him, it’s hard to remember that I’ve seen him
slit a man’s throat during dinner.
Branches arch overhead, forming a living cathedral that shielded the
ground from the snowfall. A carpet of moss leads to the altar. Glowing blue
butterflies perch on the boughs around us, and crimson berries dapple the
grove, vivid against the snowy branches.
As I step closer to Talan, he reaches for my hands. I slide mine into his.
I can’t quite read the expression in his eyes beneath those dark
eyelashes, just the faintest curve of his lips. Almost playful. I wonder how
much of this is simple rebellion, marrying a penniless peasant to piss off the
father he hates.
Griflet stands before the altar with a large book in his hands. He flips
through it, clearing his throat. “We are