the feminine, the masculine, the artistic urge to stare at the paintings until they make you hallucinate, to read poems until they seep inside your soul, to write such words that hold the power to shatter a person's heart and fill the void at the same time.
make a poets as ya fantasy book novels list i dare you!!!
This one looks fun!!! Thank you!!!
Pitts. - Claws. I personally like to block this book out of my mind. It's basically about this 12 year old girl who meets a cult of talking cats and essentially becomes their leader. She grows fur and everything. Worst book I ever read. But I think it's weird enough to fit strange and awkward Pitts.
Charlie. - Ace of shades. Nothing but the most dramatic and obscure novels for him. And like... it's about crimes, gambling, and alcohol. It's perfect for him.
Cameron. - The Hobbit. Big words, lots of detail. Everything is explained there's nothing left for interpretation.
Todd - Eragon. It has such a wonderfully crafted story where everything is poetic and beautifully placed. The characters have such depth and the scenery and the dragon is described nicely. Good for a deep person like Todd.
Neil. - Twilight. I'm not sorry. Neil is a dramatic girlie who lives for romance novels and crappy rom coms so why not make him into the worst ya series ever.
Meeks. - The Hunger Games. Lots of suspense. A very interesting story where you have to figure out what's going on. Lots of mechanics and science in this one.
Knox. - The lightning theif. The goofiest of ya novels. Knox is clumsy so I can only see him as a book that makes me laugh a lot.
Todd loves thunderstorms. He loves the gloomy weather, the rumble of thunder rolling in the sky like god is humming above them, the steady rhythm of rain against the window panes. Neil finds him smiling at the fog and mist that covers the ground and obscures the morning view after a night storm, the moisture still clinging to the air like a cloud that’s descended to earth. He takes a deep breath on those mornings, the smell of clean, wet earth soaking into his lungs as though it is clearing away cobwebs and dust on his soul.
Night storms are his favorite. He’ll sit on the windowsill on those nights he can’t sleep and watch the bright flashes of lightning streak across the sky like veins. The wondrous enormity of the world around him distracts from the noise in his head, the resounding thunderclap louder than his thoughts. Everything feels smaller, manageable. It’s peaceful even when the rain is a torrent. He feels calm for the first time in a long time knowing that there are things bigger than his anxieties, and more powerful too. And for a moment, everything’s not so loud.