“She reminded herself bitterly that this was what curiosity had bought her: fifty keystones for a singer who refused to sing, a friend who wasn’t her friend, some one who was hers and yet would never be hers.” — The Winner’s Curse, Marie Rutkoski
“Oh my god, so many geeky things about me. Generally geeky, I mean I geek about baseball. My two favorite things are baseball and the X-Factor. I don’t know. I’m a huge Star Wars geek, I’m an everything geek.”
I’m just very aware of what this show means to me and I would never, by my own hand, say it’s time for me to move on. I’m going to miss this show when it’s over. Forever and ever this will be my first role, and that’s so special. As long as the stories are still being told, I will have a hand in telling them.
He told himself a story. Not at first. At first, there wasn’t time for thoughts that came in the shape of words. His head was blessedly empty of stories then. War was coming. It was upon him. Arin had been born in the year of the god of death, and he was finally glad of it. He surrendered himself to his god, who smiled and came close. Stories will get you killed, he murmured in Arin’s ear. Now, you just listen. Listen to me.
“She reminded herself bitterly that this was what curiosity had bought her: fifty keystones for a singer who refused to sing, a friend who wasn’t her friend, some one who was hers and yet would never be hers.”
“Congratulate me. I am to marry the heir to the empire.” She saw him believe it. She saw betrayal wash across his features, then understanding. She saw his thoughts. Hadn’t she pulled away from his embrace, escaped across his roof, and nearly drawn a weapon on him? Who was he, to her? And Kestrel liked to win. Wasn’t the someday role of empress a tempting stake? Power might persuade where Ronan hadn’t.
“You’re not real,” she reminded him.
“I feel real.” He brushed one finger across her lower lip. It suddenly seemed that there were no clouds in the sky, and that she sat in full sunshine. “You feel real,” he said.
I spent a long time in London on the stage, and you knew exactly what you were going to be doing. You not only knew the performance, but you also knew exactly where you would stand. Not knowing is incredibly nerve-wracking for me, but great, also. It’s exciting! I have no idea what’s going to happen next, and that’s always exciting and interesting. But, I can pretty much say that I will definitely be in water, at some point, again. I can always say that.
“there are wolves, they would say. and there are stories about wolves and girls. girls in red. all alone in the woods. about to get eaten up. wolves and girls. both have sharp teeth.”
anonymous asked for girls in ya lit
from top to bottom, left to right: the winner’s curse by marie rutkoski, fearsome dreamer by laure eve, the demon’s lexicon by sarah rees brennan, the archived by victoria schwab, saving francesca by melina marchetta, the raven boys by maggie stiefvater, legend by marie lu, graceling by kristin cashore