Headcannon: When Severus And Lily Were Kids, They Listened To All Sorts Of Muggle Music. Mr. And Mrs.

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. 

Beta-Readers Needed!

Before I publish the first few chapters of my rewrite series, I’m looking for at least five beta readers who’ll check my work for any inconsistencies, typos, and any other errors that might be found.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ If you are interested, you can message me so that I can ask you a couple of questions. If I feel that you may work well with me, I’ll ask for your email.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ If you are not interested, but know someone that might be, then you can either send them this post or tell me about them so that I can ask them myself. I’ll be asking a couple of simple questions and, if I feel we’d work well, then I’ll ask for their emails.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ REMEMBER! This part of the rewrite is centered around the Marauders & Co. (the romance is Wolfstar-focused, although romance isn’t the main theme). There’s going to be a lot of diversity in terms of race, gender, and disabilities. Also, Snape is going to be a complex, humanized character.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ If I can find someone who is Indian, Japanese, French, and/or Welsh to call me out in case I make any mistakes (I’ve been studying these cultures for years whenever I can, but I’m not perfect) that would be amazing.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Finally, any and all Beta-Readers I end up picking will be credited each chapter I post.

A relevant thread

Send me "have you evers" and I'm gonna answer with yes or no

When I was 13 years old and curious about sex and love, I asked my mom if she had had sex before marrying my father (of whom she is still married to, and has been since before I was born). She said that that wasn’t really a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. I said ‘sure it is, you’ve either had sex before him, or you haven’t’. She brought me onto the couch and sat me down and told me about the boy she liked when she was young and how one night she snuck into his house while his parents were gone and they were kissing and he said they should have sex and she said that she wanted to save sex for marriage and he laughed and basically took all her clothes off and he raped her and as my mom was telling the story she cried and this was the second time I had ever seen my mom cry. She was 12 when it happened.

In grade 8 I got a call from my friend in the middle of the night and she was drunk in the park crying and told me that she went out that night with some other friends and they drank a little and her guy “friend” starting flirting and yes she laughed at first but then he tried to pull her shirt over her head and she pulled away and he ripped her shirt and it was her favourite shirt and then he pushed her to her knees and HIS BEST FRIEND HELD HER JAW OPEN WHILE HE FACE FUCKED HER. And so I went to the park and picked her up and took her home and slept in her bed with her except we didn’t sleep because she just cried and her mouth bled and this was four years ago but I still have to be the one to bring her items to the till it the cashier is a man, and she still has anxiety attacks and she’ll get a rash all over her body and I just want to kill those boys but instead they are still walking around. And I’m in the bathroom with her, dabbing at her skin with a warm cloth until it returns to its regular colour.

And in grade 9 one of my closest friends was kinda seeing this boy and so they hung out one night and then she said that she really had to be getting back home and he said that she wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him what he wanted and he parked the car and took off her clothes and she said no and he ignored her and so she laid in the backseat totally limp and just cried and it wasn’t even sex, he just masterbated by using her body instead of his hand and she came to school the next day with vodka in her water bottle and she drank all day and I had to fight her to get the alcohol away from her and she just cried and threw up and I skipped class while I held her hair back and that same boy texted me a month later, asking if I ever wanted to hangout sometime.

And in that same year my very best friend who has never even kissed a boy, confessed to me that when she was 9 years old, her 12 year old cousin made her give him a hand job and he told her that was what cousins do and he gave her a chocolate bar afterwards and she told me that he probably doesn’t even remember it but that it’s something that she’ll never have the luxury of forgetting.

And in grade 10 I knew a girl who invited her best friend over to watch Disney movies and then he started to put his hands down her pants and she said no but she is 130lbs and he is 220lbs and he called her a tease while she tried to fight him but he used one hand to hold her down, and the other to put inside of her and i was the one to push her inside of a classroom and stand in front of her while calling the police when he showed up at our school looking for her and she was so damn scared.

And a few months later I skipped class and was in the car with a guy who i had had unprotected sex with in the past while under the influence of cocaine but this time I was sober and I insisted we use a condom but he told me he couldn’t feel anything while the condom was on so he ripped it off and I said I refused to have unprotected sex again and so he just grabbed me and forced himself into my mouth and I was crying and he pulled me onto him and I just came saying “stop” over and over like a broken record but he must’ve heard something different because he went until he came and I just sat naked in the backseat while he drove me back to the school and said “we should do this again sometime”. And I had five showers that night and I scratched at my skin so hard to try and rip his fingerprints off of me, I still have the scars.

And I found out soon afterwards that that same guy had raped a classmate of mine, 5 months earlier and she told me about how he brought her McDonald’s first, and how he said they could take things slow and she told me about how he didn’t listen to her either. And he goes to our school and so after she told me about her incident and I told her about mine, we decided to report it to the police and the trial is currently still going on and he told people about it, except in his version we are just “asking for attention” and all his friends talk about how bad they feel for him. As if HE is the one that still wakes up screaming. As if HE felt like his skin no longer was beautiful, no longer belonged to him. And I held her in my arms as she bawled after giving the police her statement. And she did the same for me.

And I met a woman a year ago in a paint store and she had a service dog and I asked what the dog was for and it turns out that she had been so brutally raped and abused in her life, that the dog is literally trained to keep men away from her.

And I’m so FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF THIS WORLD WE ARE LIVING IN. How many rape victims eyes have I already looked into? How many more will I? And how many more friends will I hold while they shake? Because I don’t know how many more I can take. And who the fuck still has the nerve to make rape jokes? And… Something just has to change. Please, someone just start being that change.

-16 year old girl

REASONS TO STAY: BOOK ONE.

SOMEONE TO STAY; Chapter Two.

❛ 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧’𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. . . ❜

WORD COUNT. 3,365

BETA-READER. @fen1s (show her some love!)

WATTPAD. AO3.

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!

Someone‘s preferred name is not debatable.

if someone asks you to call them a name

you call them by that fucking name

this is NOT debatable.

I have like 5 followers but all 5 followers deserve to know they’re valid and loved. I fucking love you guys. 

reblog if ur mom is smart and beautiful