The afternoon breeze would incite to a weird and flabby activity all that crowded mass of clothing, with its vague suggestions of drowned, mutilated and flattened humanity. Trunks without heads waved at you arms without hands; legs without feet kicked fantastically with collapsible flourishes; and there were long white garments, that taking the wind fairly through their neck openings edged with lace, became for a moment violently distended as by the passage of obese and invisible bodies. On these days you could make out that ship at a great distance by the multi-coloured grotesque riot going on abaft her mizzen-mast.
Joseph ConradTags: fighting clothes-hanging ship-life shipping
That dog is a wolf, is he not?'
'Aye, well, mostly.'
A small flash of hazel told him not to quibble.
'And yet he is thy boon companion, a creature of rare courage and affection, and altogether a worthy being?;
'Oh, aye,' he said with more confidence. 'He is."
She gave him an even look.
'Thee is a wolf, too, and I know it. But thee is my wolf, and best thee know that.'
He'd started to burn when she spoke, an ignition swift and fierce as the lighting of one of his cousin's matches. He put out his hand, palm forward, to her, still cautious lest she too, burst into flame.
'What I said to ye, before . . . that I kent ye loved me-'
She stepped forward and pressed her palm to his, her small, cool fingers linking tight.
'What I say to thee now is that I do love thee. And if thee hunts at night, thee will come home.'
Under the sycamore, the dog yawned and laid his muzzle on his paws.
'And sleep at they feet,' Ian whispered, and gathered her in with his one good arm, both of them blazing bright as day.
Something that’s bothered me for a while now is the current profligacy in YA culture of Team Boy 1 vs Team Boy 2 fangirling. [...] Despite the fact that I have no objection to shipping, this particular species of team-choosing troubled me, though I had difficulty understanding why. Then I saw it applied to Suzanne Collins’s The Hunger Games trilogy – Team Peeta vs Team Gale – and all of a sudden it hit me that anyone who thought romance and love-triangles were the main event in that series had utterly missed the point. Sure, those elements are present in the story, but they aren’t anywhere near being the bones of it, because The Hunger Games, more than anything else, is about war, survival, politics, propaganda and power. Seeing such a strong, raw narrative reduced to a single vapid argument – which boy is cuter? – made me physically angry.
So, look. People read different books for different reasons. The thing I love about a story are not necessarily the things you love, and vice versa. But riddle me this: are the readers of these series really so excited, so thrilled by the prospect of choosing! between! two! different! boys! that they have to boil entire narratives down to a binary equation based on male physical perfection and, if we’re very lucky, chivalrous behaviour? While feminism most certainly champions the right of women to chose their own partners, it also supports them to choose things besides men, or to postpone the question of partnership in favour of other pursuits – knowledge, for instance. Adventure. Careers. Wild dancing. Fun. Friendship. Travel. Glorious mayhem. And while, as a woman now happily entering her fourth year of marriage, I’d be the last person on Earth to suggest that male companionship is inimical to any of those things, what’s starting to bother me is the comparative dearth of YA stories which aren’t, in some way, shape or form, focussed on Girls Getting Boyfriends, and particularly Hot Immortal Or Magical Boyfriends Whom They Will Love For All Eternity.
Blog post: Love Team Freezer
Tags: feminism ya hunger-games shipping love-triangles
Max." Fang let go of my hand. "Right now, it's really all about—us."
He swooped down to the right in a big semicircle, ending facing me. Slowly we climbed upward, until we were almost vertical, flying straight up to the sun.
While carefully synchronizing our wings—they almost touched—Fang leaned in, gently put one hand behind my neck, and kissed me. It was just about as close to heaven as I'll ever get, I guess. I closed my eyes, lost in the feeling of flying and kissing and being with the one person in the world I completely,
utterly trusted.
When we finally broke apart, we looked down at the others, who were way far below us now. Angel was shading her eyes, looking up at us with a big smile. She was sitting on a dolphin's back, and I hoped soon someone would explain to the dolphin that he shouldn't let Angel take advantage of his good nature.
Still looking up at us, Angel gave us a big thumbs-up.
"She approves," Fang said with a hint of amusement.
"Jeez," I wondered aloud. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Tags: friendship happiness love kissing kiss sun heaven smile trust flying wings couple dolphin shipping otp bird-kids i-approve-too
... de jongen soo verbaast gaauw tegen de stijlte weer op liep, schreeuwende luijtkeels de schuijt vergaat og was ik bij mijn moeder op het landt, van hem een openhartige confessie, door hem geroepen en van andere meer als duijsentmalen gedagt, maar die ijdele wenschen konnen nu niet baten, bidden Godt maar hij ons soo eens met voor en tegenspoet sal laten komen in de have van ons begeerte ...
Maria Wilhelmina LammensTags: travel 18th-century dutch shipping
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