Neville is a perfect example of how one single ingredient in the recipe can either ruin your casserole (or stew, or treacle tart, whatever you like), or utterly perfect your whole dish. Neville is the tide-turner, the shiny hinge. And all because he happens to be in the same position as Wormtail… but makes all the hard choices that Pettigrew refused the first time around. Other characters are in similar positions, but none of them go so far as Neville. None of them prove that the shaping of destiny is all on the individual the way he does.
Don’t ask me about her lips. How they ruby and burn. Stretch full over white teeth, taut like a drum. I want her to make music of me.
Don’t ask me about her hands. The way they are scarred with stories. How they slide down her legs as I stare. Mouth cotton; eyes hungry.
Don’t ask me about my hunger. The way my stomach drops tight when she looks at me. The way my palms itch for her bones. Don’t ask me about my fear. The way she comes to me.
How I open my mouth to say “Yes” and it comes out “I’m sorry.”
anon asked: Do you have any advice for teenage girls who are scared to be a David Bowie or a loud Joan Jett, the kind of girls that buy the brightest red lipstick and look in the mirror with it on and wipe it off with their sleeves before the school bus arrives?
yup!!! it’s mostly: you don’t have to be that person right now. being a teenage girl is already hard enough, oh my god. wait until you to go to university, or get a job, any job, or just aren’t in high school anymore. you don’t have to be the person you want to be all at once! it’s okay to do it in little pieces until you get there! be bowie at the weekend, until you start to get used to it.
i mean in a way i’m crap at giving advice about this because i was extremely well known as a teenage girl for the way that i dressed, but, like. i had a dip while at university where a boyfriend convinced me to wear pastels and to stop wearing leather and eyeliner and black, and getting back to that was, uh. hard. it was weird, to have everyone looking at me again.
but, actually, in a job that has an office environment and a ‘going out and meeting people’ component, it’s been an asset. people remember me. i’m not just ‘that reporter’, i’m ‘that reporter with the, you know, the hair.’ i’m ‘that reporter with those… uh. those boots.’ there’s, okay, i can’t lie, there’s an immense pressure on women to be something i’m not, often, in an office, to wear heels and foundation and all that jazz, and i won’t pretend that not doing that is easy. but it makes you stand out. sometimes that’s bad! but i use it to my advantage. i use it to my advantage a lot.
this got away from me a bit, didn’t it. i think what i’m saying is: you don’t have to be this person right this minute. it can take a while. it’s okay. you’re a teenager! you’re not really there yet. no one is ever really ‘there’, you’re never finished, you’re never done. sometimes doing what would make you happy is scary, so if you don’t do it then it makes you feel like a coward, but that doesn’t mean you have to jump off that cliff right now.
hell, wait until you’re nineteen, dye your hair blue. it only gets better after the teens, darling, i promise.