I’ve Changed My Mind About The Title. It’s Going To Be Called The “Reasons To Stay” Series. I

I know most people who write for HP don't like Peter Pettigrew but with your rewrite, could you not sideline him as the 'just there' Marauder? He was just as capable as them in Transfiguration and Potions. I may not like him but he wasn't the guy to just throw his friends under the bus at 11 years old for a corn chip like how some people write him as

I thought the same thing, actually. It’s why you’re going to see a lot of Peter in the rewrite. You’ll get to know about his home life, his hobbies, favorite colors, the songs he likes the same way you’ll know about the rest. He’s flawed, yes, but he also has a lot of good traits.

Thank you for the request, though, Anon. I like how you think.

I used to ship Drarry too, but as you said, after rereading the books and analyzing it now that I’m older, I believe there’s too much toxicity for them to be romantically involved. It’s why I prefer shipping Albus and Scorpius better.

As for Jeverus, I really don’t think they’d work at all. Snape isn’t a forgiving man at all, and James is too against Snape’s beliefs to move past it. Not to mention all the toxicity they both have when it comes to each other. But, again, if you think they work then fine.

Also…Sirius and Snape…really? Merlin help us all.

Jeverus/Snames is a thing?

I just found out that there are people who ship James Potter with Snape and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m not trying to shame anyone, but you’ve got Marauder stans and Snape stans and then you’ve got people who think they belong together? How? Where’s the logic behind that? I’m genuinely curious.

so you write on ao3

I have an account, but I haven’t posted anything yet. You can find me by the same username (thesoftrainbows).

I also have Wattpad (ew, I know), and will probably also post my HP Rewrite in FanFiction.net if I figure out how it works.

All of these accounts have the same username.

OH also, Twitter and Instagram are under the same name :)

Can someone please teach me how to add links in that pretty, organized way I’ve seen some people do? I don’t know how to explain it, but like you can name the link whatever you want and it’s not that long-ass jumble of letters and numbers.

For me JK is the pure representation even though she only cares about feminism when oppressing those who are already oppressed, she is the representation of those TERFs who criticize and bully and sometimes treat the rest of the LGBT community, especially the trans community, men, women who oppose the radical feminism (which is more like totally extremist feminism) but they defend abusers like Marilyn Mason like you said and play the victim like JK did about trans activists went where she lives but the place has a wikipedia page

At this point I see “Anonymous” and automatically think it’s a JK apologist or some shit.

But yes, thank you, JKRoach just likes power. A good way of getting power is by putting on the label of a feminist and then deciding that an already vulnerable group of people are the villains.

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(Source)

Being in college is like riding a bike. Except the bike is on fire. So is your money, your brain, your soul, and your will to live. And I’m barely passing my classes because they told me to read this article and then I didn’t but still aced the test yet my assignments are not doing so well. College is great, guys.

If anyone has any ideas on specifics, that would help me immensely. If you’re a trans person and are interested in developing this ceremony and the Verosui with me, you’re more than welcome to. Credit will be given, of course.

Verosui.

[ veros: “genuine” (Greek); sui: “self” (Latin). ]

OFFICIAL NAME. Verosui

ALSO KNOWN AS. The Holy Messenger OR The Amender

SIZE. 14.5 in

DIET. They eat berries, but they also enjoy eating arthropods and small invertebrates such as spiders, scorpions, centipedes and such.

ABOUT THEM. There used to be an ancient ceremony where whenever someone announced that they were born in the wrong body, they would contact the Goddess via a song so that She would send her beloved pet, the Verosui, to right her wrong. The Amender would arrive a week after the song, to perform its magic. During this week, the village or family would gather around in prayer so that the Amender will show its holy compassion as a sign of compassion towards the sufferer.

Once the Amender arrives, they shall see if a person’s true self would be what they claim. If they deem it necessary, they shall begin the performance of sex reassignment, which really involves powerful magic being used while they fly in circles around their target. It is said that the experience is a mixture of thrilling and painful, so it would really depend on who the person is.

Unfortunately, this ceremony was banned in 1903 by the Minister of Magic at the time — K. Rowl. Ever since then, the wixes were forced to forget about this ceremony since they would be persecuted if they attempted to relieve a sufferer’s pain. Sufferers were soon scorned and mocked if they came out.

Questions? Send an Ask!

Hey your HP fic sounds amazing what is your Ao3 account so I can subscribe? Thanks 😁

Hi! Thank you! I don’t have anything posted yet, but I’m hoping I can have something done and shared by New Year.

You can find me as “thesoftrainbows” (same as my tumblr). I would attach a link but I’m not sure how to do that.

Thank you for the support!

My First Heartbreak.

When I was in third grade, my mother decided that I should join ballet as a way to keep me distracted from what was happening with the divorce of my parents. I’m not sure what exactly made her think I would be interested in such a thing, back then I hated looking feminine in any way - and I mean it in a I-would-cry-and-throw-a-tantrum kind of way. But she did, and she dragged me along to every store that sold uniforms and ballet shoes and hair accessories and such, very much to my dismay. 

It was odd though, I frowned and whined throughout the entire process...until I was pushed into the classroom for beginner ballerinas. I don’t know what it was that stunned me into silence, maybe it was the fact that the teacher was so magnificently beautiful and I was too gay to deal with it; perhaps it was the amount of girls thrown in one room, all giggling and chatting away like a group of best friends even though the majority had only just met. All I know is that I loved the athmosphere around me. 

The ballet instructor, Miss Vazquez, was the sweetest woman I had every met, bless her soul. I was socially anxious, clumsy, and all-around awkward, but she didn’t let it stop her from patiently teaching me how to dance. I mean, to this day I have two left feet, but back then I had absolutely no body coordination. Still, each time I came remotely close to doing something right she would cheer and celebrate it like I was showing enough promise to become the next ballet legend. She taught me how to dance to the vibration of the music, since I’m deaf, and would always figure out new ways for me to improve. It came to the point where I convinced myself that I was in love with her, and that one day I would end up marrying her, when I was old enough. 

I became obsessed with ballet. I practiced any time I could; if you’d met me back then, you would have seen me scrambling to finish my classwork or test before anyone else and begging my teachers at school to let me practice in the halls while the rest of the class finished. It was unhealthy, but I wanted to impress Miss Vazquez. She had so much faith in me, she was always reassuring me that I could be as good as any other ballerina if I dedicated myself to it. Miss Vazquez always noticed the improvements, would always praise my efforts. It was like a drug that left me dazed for the rest of the weekend. 

Alas, it couldn’t last. The divorce of my parents were costing my mother a fortune, and she couldn’t afford to continue taking me to the ballet lessons. Not to mention that she needed to find someone to take care of my younger brother, who was a toddler at the time, and my grandmother was too sick to do it like she used to. So I stopped showing up. 

I never got to say goodbye, and I never saw Miss Vazquez again. We never recovered financially, so I was never able to continue dancing. It was the first time I experienced heartbreak, but looking back, it was a beautiful kind of ache.