Land of Ships and Prose

Today you are so drained that you have to close your eyes and inhale deeply to perform a shift that usually comes as easily as breathing. It's dangerous to be vulnerable at all right now, but you wear the maned wolf like a second skin, and you need the instinctive bubble of joy to keep yourself going right now. You stretch each long limb and try to ignore how many times you feel the need to swallow. It will be alright if you don't think about how much you've lost, how much you dreamed you stand to lose still.

“We are at a turning point of revolution species. Evolution has blindly felt its way forward , now, we, the product of evolution are taking the wheel. We soon will have the ability to design and create the new human, evolution still, but guided evolution...of course, only on computer simulation.”

In the beginning, there was nothing. And then, from on high, a non-denominational creation deity descended, and he presented unto ten-year-olds the Animorphs series. I firmly believe the Animorphs books were some kind of act of God, and a random selection of them appeared in school libraries, slightly tattered and already covered in those stamps that mean they've been borrowed a lot.

And then there's this rubbish.

I bought this book because it said it was written by K.A. Applegate, famous in my generation for writing the Animorphs series, a dark, gritty sci fi series about the horrors of war and violent death, which because it had kids turning into animals on the cover, got stuck on the shelf between Goosebumps and The Babysitters Club. I can only assume there has been some horrible mistake and some other person named K.A. Applegate has been published by accident.

So there’s the protagonist, Evening “Eve” Spiker, and she just about dies in a car crash. She loses a leg, is rushed to hospital, and then rushed back out by some guy called Solo who works for her mother, who is apparently head of some private medical research company… thing. Eve gets private treatment because if your mother is a genetics genius (or at least has the forethought to hire a lot of them) you get some special treatment.

Eve also has her BFF, which seems to be becoming a trend in books I hate, but I swear it’s a coincidence. The BFF’s name is Aislin, and she seems to exist to be the drugged-up alcoholic “slutty” best friend to show off how innocent and pure Eve is in comparison, but also for Eve to quietly wish she was like, to make sure everyone knows that Eve has ~depth~.

Now we make it to Adam. I’d warn you about spoilers but really, it’s not worth reading this book, so I’ll just tell you. Eve’s mother gives her a program to design ‘the perfect boy’ from the basic genetic structure up. So Eve does because I guess she must have been really into The Sims. But shockingly, the program she’s using actually connects to a genetic… tube… thing (science magic) that actually builds the boy she makes. And of course they name him Adam, because scientists can’t resist temptation.

Anyway it turns out Solo thinks Eve’s mother is evil and makes a fuss at Eve about it and there’s some dramatic espionage and running away and everyone expects Adam and Eve to fall in love because there has never been a more literally generated love interest ever, but Solo loves Eve too! Gasp! And none of the characters have any depth and you can’t connect to them and the plot is contrived and boring and it doesn’t really feel like anybody cared about this book while they were writing it.

#rape tw

Bravery comes one day at a time.

Alexi Littrell is hiding:

Her habit of compulsively counting the slats in the air vent on her bedroom ceiling.

Her identity, she hopes, from the mystery boy writing song lyrics on her fourth period desk.

The back of her neck, where she scratches bleeding holes in her skin to try and make her body hurt like her mind does.

The identity of her rapist.

Faking Normal was hard to read, for all the right reasons. It was frightening, in that way that contemporary YA can show you horrible things that are completely plausible in a this could happen to you kind of way. It was honest, too. Alexi was raped. (No, there's no argument about this. She was.) Alexi was raped and she feels conflicted. She knew her rapist, and he felt so bad about it. She never really said the words 'no' or 'stop', and she can't feel certain that doesn't make it her fault. She thinks that maybe, if she just pretends, she can get by.

This book is about a relationship, but it's not about true love. It's about how, when you're hurt, letting someone in doesn't make you weak. It makes you stronger. It's about getting through hard things and finding the people who will support you and holding on to them as tightly as you can. I wish I'd read this book in high school.

When I read Faking Normal, I didn't cry. Since I cry at the drop of a hat, this was quite and achievement and I was very proud when I turned the last page of something that hits quite close to home, and my eyes were dry. Of course, I ended up crying my eyes out over the author's note at the end. I've decided that doesn't count.

"I would do anything for you, Piper. Anything you want." Reese won’t take his eyes off me. "If I can’t have you, it’ll kill me." My mind tells me this is not the standard first date conversation.

The sunlight shining on his eyelids alerts him first to the fact that he is awake, and secondly that they'd forgotten to shut the curtains again last night, even though they both complained every morning that it woke them too early. Zero shifts, rubbing his eyes. It’s way too cold to get out of bed and fix the offending light. Instead, he rolls over. The line of light stretches across the place his head had been resting on the pillow, and travels down across a pair of extremely nice breasts. They rise and fall softly with her slow breathing.

For a while, Zero watches her sleep, until the tacky analogue alarm clock she’d insisted on having ticks over to a sensible hour. He pokes her in the shoulder and tugs gently on a stray lock of hair to no effect, shrugs, and wraps an arm around her waist. She’s gotten softer since she stopped running. He doesn’t mind. He’d loved her wiry and angular and he loves her curved and gentle.

She rolls onto her side, moves into his arms and sighs in her sleep, and he trails a line of kisses down to the base of her neck, to the place he knows makes her shiver and twist her shoulders. Sure enough, she twitches, then groans, rolls back to blink blearily up at him

"G’morning, Kaitlyn,” he smiles. She only groans again and buries her face in his collarbone. He runs his fingers through her hair, hits a tangle, and pulls his hand free. “Come on, it’s morning. We can have breakfast,” Still nothing. “I’ll make you coffee?”

“You drive a hard bargain,” she mumbles into his chest. He laughs, because she says this every morning when he wins, and kisses the top of her head. He’ll have to brave the cold air to reach the kitchen with its tiled floor of frozen doom, but this is their routine and he’s not going to question a good thing.

The mixture of scents brings her out. Coffee and bacon have worked their way back to the bedroom and drawn her out, clad only in a shirt that was probably his once. She’s obviously freezing but apparently pants are too difficult a concept before her bloodstream is 50% caffeine. Kaitlyn makes a beeline for the two stools at the counter they use instead of a dining table - there’s no room in here - but he grabs her wrist and pulls her up to the stove with him. It’s warmer near the burners, and really he just wants to hold her.

  She groans at him again and holds out a hand, into which he neatly places the giant mug of coffee she requires to get going every morning. He watches as she downs half of it without taking a breath. It’s not even the drug that does it, it’s the knowledge that she’s had some that wakes her up, brings the life and spark back to her eyes. He smirks at her, and his hands never leave her waist. “Someone’s demanding thismorning,” he teases, and fights back laughter when her eyes widen in panic.

“Oh god Zero I’m sorry I didn’t mean to growl at you!” she whimpers, throwing her arms around him. She looks up, brown eyes big and distressed. “You aren’t mad are you? I swear it’s just because it’s morning and I’m terrible when I wake up, you know that...”

"You'd know what people where thinking if you just looked, Kitty," Lydia said, flipping another page. She didn't look up.

Kaitlyn frowned. "Looked at what?"

Sighing patiently, Lydia hung her book over the arm of the lounge chair she'd sprawled in. She turned to watch Kaitlyn, amusement in her pale brown eyes. "At people. Like... Zero won't tell you whether he's okay with something or not, but he blushes when he's uncomfortable. That's how you can tell if it's alright to tell him what to do."

Kaitlyn's frown deepened. "That doesn't help," she complained, "Zero's always blushing."

Kaleb is back at Hogwarts for nearly a full week before he realises what he’s missing. When he climbs into bed on Friday night (Saturday morning, really, now that he’s fought his way through the DADA essays and reading) and for the first time since starting seventh year he has time to really think about the hollow aching in his chest. Even then, he doesn’t really consider it until he’s under the covers and notices that he’s no longer sprawling across the space, his body has moved to the left and his arms are reaching across the mattress for something - someone - who isn’t there.

It’s stupid, it’s a terrible idea. Kaleb’s ashamed he ever had it. He reminds himself of all the reasons why he should leave her alone. She told him at thirteen she didn’t see him the way he saw her. He’d put away those feelings years ago. He couldn’t put pressure on her while she was still mourning her father. But still, his stupid traitor brain whispers to him. Thirteen was a long time ago. Whose house had she practically moved into over summer? Who had she sought out when she’d needed someone to care for her? Yes, he thinks back savagely, care for her. Not love her. Not want her.

No matter how hard he pushes, the feeling doesn’t go away. He sighs, partly frustration, partly trying to shake the crushed rib cage feeling. They never even shared a bed. How can he be missing something he’s never had? There’s only been dreams he doesn’t want to admit remembering. He’s never had her there, warm and soft and breathing steadily, his arms wrapped around her and her heartbeat filling his ears as he presses gentle kisses to the back of her neck and their legs tangle together under the blanket that she’s stolen most of, not that it matters since he’s practically overheating in her presence anyway and then he sits up, shaking his head as though he can dislodge the image. He can’t do this. He’s at school. In the dorms, which used to feel like home but tonight are just isolating and cold.

Growling under his breath, he snatches a sweater from the pile of clothes already forming by his bed. It must be nearly four in the morning now, the patrols can’t possibly go all night. He needs to move, preferably to be playing Quidditch, but really anything will do. He’s been breaking this rule for years, surely he can prowl around the castle for a while without anybody catching him? And he might meet Vanora somewhere. Perhaps she can’t sleep either. Perhaps they’ll meet under the stars at the top of the Astronomy Tower- no, the kitchens, it’s always been the kitchens with her. She’ll say she can’t sleep either, and they’ll sit together and some kind of miraculous understanding will pass between their eyes and she’ll say she was wrong back then and she loves him too and then he’ll kiss her like he’s always wanted to and she’ll taste like cupcakes like he’s always imagined she would and everything will be perfect.

“I will if you will,” she whispers, when they both hesitate in the hidden alcove as the chime for curfew rings through the corridors. She has less to lose, the kitchens are much closer to her dorms than his, but he can hear the sentiment in her voice, the promise she means. They’re in this together, bonds of friendship only the mind of an eleven-year-old could form so quickly and tightly hold them. She won’t desert him. He reaches out, links his little finger with hers, and she turns. He can see the glint of excitement in her eyes through the gloom. “For cake!” she whispers fiercely, the greatest battle cry a child could ever dream of.

He can’t believe she thought he might forget her. She’s taller now, but still much smaller than him, and not as skinny anymore, having lost the childlike athletic body in favour of a much softer one, but she’s still the same girl he met in the park almost two full years ago. He’d be offended by her suggestion if he wasn’t so overwhelmingly happy to have her back. He’ll remember her forever, for the rest of his life, and he declares this to be so with grand gestures and bonecrushing hugs. Won’t she do the same for him? She smiles, and some tension he hadn’t noticed drops away from her. “I will if you will,” she promises.

“Forgive me?” He can’t keep the pleading tone from his voice. The next stage is to fall to the ground and beg. Already he can feel his knees buckling. There’s too much emotion trying to cram itself into his awkward, barely teenaged body, he can barely hold himself together. It doesn’t feel like before though, and he’s glad he could get over her without getting over her friendship. There really never will be anybody else in his life like her, he’s realised. If only she’ll forgive him for breaking what they had before. “I will if you will,” she replies, her eyes filling with tears and something that could be hope.

It’s not the same, now she’s with Azrael. He’s not really jealous that she chose someone else anymore, although there’s a hurt feeling whenever he sees them kiss that he carefully locks away somewhere he can ignore it. He just never realised he would have to share her. She’s busy now, and he suspects that some of the reason she can never go off on adventures with him is because she’s going off with Azra instead. He can see her now, across the courtyard, but she only has eyes for the other boy. He can’t remember the last time they spoke outside of class. ‘Are you forgetting me?’ he wonders, a frown crossing his face. It’s almost unthinkable, that she could be capable of cruelty, but there she goes, and she hasn’t noticed him there at all. She might forget him, by accident, and he doesn’t want to be forgotten. ‘I will if you will,’ he thinks. He won’t be one half left alone.

She’s giving him this look, like she expects him to have some kind of strong opinion either way. He might, if only he wasn’t so similarly confused himself. She’s never asked him for relationship advice before, why is she starting now? Her eyes are wide. She’s uncertain, he realises. She doesn’t know if it’s okay for them to do this. He doesn’t know for sure either, for all his bravado. Is it okay for best friend to date both halves of an ex-couple? There might be some kind of protocol involved that nobody has told him about, some rule of dating as yet undiscovered. But he trusts Kai to look after her, and Lacey’s pretty and fun and nice (a lot like her, he definitely doesn’t think). So he shrugs, and grins at her. “I will if you will!” he announces.

“Can you sleep?” he asks her gently. She jumps at the sound. She startles easily lately, and walks around with a far away expression, like she’s lost somewhere inside her head he can’t reach. Some deep pit of grief he never knew she had. They spend most days on the couch, her wrapped in the softest blanket he has and him wrapped around her. The desperate way she clings to him now is the closest they’ve been in a long time, maybe ever. He can feel himself slowly noticing her again; everything that captured him before, and all that has changed since they were dumb and thirteen; the way her waist curves in and the shape of her mouth. He pushes it out of his head, she needs him to take care of her, not make unwelcome advances. Again, he asks her to sleep, and she blinks up at him. “I will if you will,” she agrees, but she doesn’t try to stand, just moves her blanket to cover as much of him as she can reach and leans against him. She’s burning with excess body heat, and as he looks down at her in surprise their eyes meet. She winks, smiles slightly, and for a moment she’s the fiery girl he knew before. Brushing her hair from her face, he decides that she is going to get better, and he’ll be there the whole way.

She’s whispering in his ear while she holds him, she has been for some time. It’s only now that he’s tuning into the words she’s breathing as they rock back and forth. “Please stop crying,” she says, over and over like a mantra, “please, please stop crying, please.” Is he crying? He hadn’t noticed, but now he can feel the dampness across his face, in her hair, soaking her shoulder where his cheek rests. He must have been crying, and for some time. Time passing has been abstract, the changing light seems to suggest they’ve sat here all afternoon. Slowly, as he comes back, he begins sensing the world outside again. Her constant whispering pleas, the damp feeling of tears staining clothes, the way his limbs have fallen asleep and seized up. “Please stop crying,” she says again, her voice breaking on the last syllable. “I will if you will,” he murmurs into her hair, stiffly reaching up an arm to embrace her. It’s the end of his world, but she’s here to share it with him, and that’s something.

DAY THIRTEEN What does your character’s bed look like when he/she wakes up? Are the covers off on one side of the bed, are they all curled around a pillow, sprawled everywhere? In what position might they sleep?

Vanora Melwyn Sleeps messily. Flops around a lot. Usually wakes up with her blankets wrapped around her and her hair tangled and all over the place. Sleeps in whatever position she passes out in.

Rosaline Green Goes to sleep lying neatly on her side, with her blanket tucked in, and a flat sheet, often clutching a book. Wakes up curled up in a ball, book fallen on the floor, facing the opposite way. Blankets still tucked in though.

DAY TWELVE How is your character with technology? Super savvy, or way behind the times? Letters or email?

Vanora Melwyn She was pretty much on track for a regular kid, until she went to Hogwarts. She's still big on television, when she's home, but otherwise she's stuck at letters attached to owls. Poor girl.

Rosaline Green Rose's father is a muggle, so she has access to technology through him. Unfortunately, she doesn't see him frequently, and her mother is quite traditionally wizarding. She tries very hard to be at least competent with computers, even though all her peers use the owl system.

DAY ELEVEN Is there an animal you equate with your character?

Vanora Melwyn No, actually! Which might be a problem, since eventually I'm probably going to need to pick a patronus form for her. I think when I filled in her form when I first created her I said gibbon? But yeah, she doesn't really have any strong animal association. She's a Hufflepuff, so I suppose a little bit badger.

Rosaline Green Owls. Ravens, eagles. Robins. Birds!

DAY EIGHT (& DAY NINE & DAY TEN) Day of Favorites! What’s your character’s favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?

Vanora Melwyn She loves ice cream in almost all flavours, the sugarier the better. Her favourite colours are pale blue and bright yellow. She's not particularly into music, actually? She likes dancing, but doesn't have a favourite song. She likes most flowers as well, if they look nice and are brightly coloured. Daffodils, maybe?

Rosaline Green Mint ice cream, medium blue, instrumental things - lyrics distract her too much from reading or writing, and she kind of likes pansies but feels like admiring the prettiness of flowers will somehow make her shallow or less sensible.

Kaitlyn Walsh Chocolate or cookie dough if she can get it. She likes purples and reddish-pinks, and listens to love songs, breakup songs, and pretty much anything expressing big emotion with a pop-rock sound. Her favourite flowers are roses, naturally.

DAY NINE Who does your character trust?

Vanora Melwyn Her father, more than anyone else. Kaleb as well, she trusts with her life. She's reasonably trusting of all of her friends, although not to the same extent as she is with those two. Vanora is a friendly and affectionate girl.

Rosaline Green Very few people. She's very independent from early childhood, preferring her own company and to think things through inside her own head. She does form bonds with people as she goes through school, and she learns to let those people in a bit. Her tutor, Olliver. She trusts him. There you go!

Kaitlyn Walsh Addison, although she probably shouldn't. Her mothers. Definitely not her classmates or her teachers. Ever. They are the enemy.

DAY TEN Can you define a turning point in your character’s life? Multiples are acceptable.

Vanora Melwyn As a muggleborn, the day her letter from Hogwarts arrives. And also the day her father dies.

Rosaline Green Not really, actually? She hasn't lived her life yet...

Kaitlyn Walsh Spoilers~

DAY SIX (& DAY SEVEN) Describe your character’s happiest memory.

Vanora Melwyn Practically every day for Vanora is her happiest memory. She's a happy kid, who grows up to be a happy woman, with a few less-happy spots in between. If Kaleb was there she'd probably tell you it was one of their relationship milestones, and if you caught her by herself she'd probably tell you it was the day she bought her bakery.

Rosaline Green Her first day of Hogwarts, when she put the hat on her head and it sorted her into Ravenclaw. It wasn't joy as much as profound relief, but she counts it.

Kaitlyn Walsh Kaitlyn's is a tricky one, because most of her life in either universe is filled with stress and angst, most of which is honestly her own doing. It's a bit outside the fourth wall, but she was probably happiest when I dropped her name into a short piece I had to do for a class, and she promptly turned it into a full-length novel focused entirely on her. Not that she's self-centred or anything. DAY SEVEN Is there one event or happening your character would like to erase from their past? Why?

Vanora Melwyn If you could bring her dad back, she'd be thrilled.

Rosaline Green She doesn't have one yet, but her life is still under construction. Rosaline is easily embarassed, she'll be able to think something up.

DAY FIVE What’s your character’s ranking on the Kinsey Scale?

Vanora Melwyn 1 or 2. 1.5? She has been documented as thinking other girls look quite attractive, but never really pursued anything. So far as I've got planned, she only ends up dating boys. That could change if someone approaches me with a female character looking to date her.

Rosaline Green 3, but probably closer to X, really. The Kinsey scale isn't even close to an accurate way to present sexuality. I'd say Rosaline is probably grey-A or maybe demisexual. She's only eleven, though, and I've barely begun to think about her future, so that could end up changing. I expect if she has the opportunity she will definitely experiment with dating different genders, but overall Rosaline almost always keeps to herself, be it out of lack of interest or lack of motivation.