i am kay. i love things. i love language and the mountain goats and football players and the noble em dash and doric columns and ripe avocados and the history of type face. the writing of pithy descriptions is not an area in which i excel.
i want less fanfics where lily reads classic literature like shakespeare and dickens and austen and more fanfics where lily reads sci fi and fantasy and horror like tolkien and vonnegut and king.
i want less fanfics where james is an idiot who’s never stepped foot in a library and more fanfics where he’s the genius boy king he was intended to be. i want him to be well-versed in classic muggle literature and poetry and therefore highly interested in the slaughterhouse-five paperback lily is carting around from class to class.
i want james to stay up all night reading and be fascinated by this “middle earth” and have deep, serious discussions with lily about frodo and orcs and the journey to mordor the next day during every meal. i want him to slowly immerse himself within a fantasy world that differs from his own.
i want lily to fall in love with him like she has with almost every ray bradbury book she’s ever read. i want her to read him over and over again and catch all of the little details she missed the first go around. i want her to skim her eyes and fingertips over him like she would the pages of a book.
i want him to recite john donne poetry to her and for them both to laugh about it. i want him to approach her one day and tell her that this is it this is the day that they’re going to learn how to speak elvish but they’re too distracted by each other to get anything done. i want lily to put aside her distaste for pre-20th century literature and read some lord byron and mary shelley and edgar allan poe and mark twain because james has read her favorites so she should try to read his.
i basically want more fanfics where james and lily’s relationship is like a book club.
You want to know what it was like?
It was like my whole life had a fever.
Whole acres of me were on fire.
The sun talked dirty in my ear all night.
I couldn’t drive past a wheatfield without doing it violence.
I couldn’t even look at a bridge.
I used to go out in the brush sometimes,
So far out there no one could hear me,
And just burn.
I felt all right then.
I couldn’t hurt anyone else.
I was just a pillar of fire.
It wasn’t the burning so much as the loneliness.
It wasn’t the loneliness so much as the fear of being alone.
Christ look at you pouring from the rocks.
You’re so cold you’re boiling over.
You’ve got stars in your hair.
I don’t want to be around you.
I don’t want to drink you in.
I want to walk into the heart of you
And never walk back out.
— Nico Alvarado