#But oliver AND ONLY OLIVER calls her sephie

[maraudersidk]

Female percy weasley (persephone) is so good like trust guys.

THE DEPTH OF HER AND GINNYS RELATIONSHIP. Like its giving girl, so confusing.

Also her and molly because mother daughter relationships are heartbreaking.(that one scene from ladybird, the whole movie actually)

HER WANTING TO BE MINISTER OF MAGIC AS A WOMAN!!!!LIKE THE ANGST

Everything is better when its women. They make me sick.

ALSO HER AND OLIVER WOULD BE THE GIRL AND BOY PREFECTS😝😝😝. Like ok i see u. Rendezvous during their rounds 100%.

Also oliver would be prefect cuz he would be the only male gryffindor.

Also her leaving and having the fight with arthur would be 10x more angsty cuz thats his baby girl like she was his first daughter and she definitely was a daddys girl growing up-she wanted to work in the ministry and her dad alr did so.

Also i made up a gc that prefects and head girl/boys get their own private dorms and it has a little common room and her and oliver would sit there at night and talk (make out)

ALSO this is alr my hcs for male percy i just wanna clarify cuz it feels like if i dokt im making her into an object between them all but:

her and marcus having a cute little relationship in fourth year cuz she was tutoring him, him being nicer to oliver off the pitch cuz she asked, oliver watching them and trying to not let his jealousy show. Marcus being perse's first friend other than oliver (who she thought only hung out with her for charlie or because of her notes) him showing her how amazing and smart she really is and fighting any slytherins who made comments abt her hair or looks or clothes. Marcus building up her confidence🤍.

Them breaking up in fifth year (it was mutual no bad blood they're besties) she starts talking to a hufflpuff named daniel (OC) him being a prefect so oliver always has to deal with his presence and be hates it because as much as he tries he can't hate him because hes just so nice. Daniel noticing how oliver looks at her and seeing how she looks at oliver (she didnt realize yet) Daniel giving little hints to help her see her feelings. Him comforting her and being so understanding when she does.

THEN SIXTH YEAR HAPPENS *this one's a doozy* perse was planning on talling oliver her feelings at the beginning of the year (after about 100 letters from marcus and daniel hyping her up - marcus threatening to beat him up and daniel sayung she should get chocolates). BUT when she was about to talk to him when they got bsck to school she sees oliver accepting a date from a girl named Sophie (sephie-sophie, see what i did there) in the year below, her running away and ignoring oliver for as long as she can. Perse befriending roger davies and they decide on a no strings attached (daniel did not approve, marcus found it hilarious and asked to join). Oliver goes ok the date but ends up rambling about perse for most of it ("shes so smart", "her hair is so pretty", "shes so helpful with my quidditch plays") sophie trying to ignore it until she can't and confronts him about it at the end of the date. Oliver apologies like crazy and end up spilling the past six years to sophie (shes too nice for her own good). They end uo with a weird tension between them up until right before Christmas break they make up and give each other gifts (no confession yet). Atp roger is just perse's theapist and gives her advice while they slack off on rounds to sneak to the kitchen. Near the end of the year the stress of exams and just generally everything that happened that year and penny (roger introduced penny and perce and they're THAT duo) they end up blowing up on each other and cue angry love confession.

I don't have all of this thought out but this was a very very summurised version of what happened (theres sm more angst for perce😁) this was supposed to be a trans perce psot but turned into perciver. What can is say guys they have me in a chokehold.

I might talk more about this cuz shes consuming me and she's so me. Sorry for the rant🤷🏻‍♀️

[oneforthemunny]

for the eddie’s who have kids

how did their kids react to the fact reader was pregnant?

well oliver from janitor!eddie was very very nervous. mainly because he's adopted and he thought they might love their 'real' baby more than him- they did not. eventually, when he realized that wasn't the case, he was so excited.

brielle from older!eddie is a lot older like 18 or 19 when delilah I born so she's not as worried about being replaced, but she's more selfishly jealous. more so bc she knows delilah will grow up in a loving house with two parents that love each other. eddie and gina needed to divorce, and it's not like they didn't love her- they both did very much. it's more so the fact that she didn't get that and she's selfishly jealous. doesn't talk to eddie or ness for a while, kinda goes mia until madeline is like "ok gina stop being dramatic" and calls her out lol.

rockstar!eddie's. oh god. ok so persephone was too little to understand what was going on. she just carried around a baby doll and 'practiced'. kensie and sephy were older (like two and four-ish) when the twins came along. at first kensington was furiously jealous at the thought of not being an only child (she was not she had sephy but she's insane) so she hated it. then they told kensie and sephy that they each got a baby, that sienna was her baby to take care of (bc it made her stop crying) so she thrived with that. when zarah came along, the twins were a little upset at not being the babies anymore, but they were mainly excited. vega was a shock to everyone. sephy is like 15 and they're all a lot older, so they're more like??? what is wrong with you guys lol. but then they love her. they're older and can really appreciate a baby so they do. they get to help out more bc they're older.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

readera

replied to your

post

:

Sabbatical

This was ….. Amazing! Can we have more? * holds up bowl ala Oliver Twist

Sephie opens her eyes and the woman is still standing over her, but the asphalt is...cold.  And dry.  It’s dark, no rosy dawn colors fingerpainted across the sky, and the woman is dressed all in white--different white, not, thick swathes of cloth like burial shrouds draping down her arms and falling to puddle at her feet like water.  Sephie thinks something might be on fire to provide enough light to see, but the light is pale and wan rather than being warm and golden.  The woman is leaning on her scythe, and her eyes glint like the blade when the light catches them, metallic and sharpened to a cutting edge.

“You’re awake,” the woman says without looking down, and it doesn’t sound like she’s asking.

Sephie sits up and it’s easy, blissfully easy, no pain or tacky blood sticking to her skin.  She’s wearing something unfamiliar, a plain dress in the same white liquid cloth that the woman is wrapped in, leaving her arms bare, and when she presses a hand against the floor, she thinks it’s stone.  Marble, maybe, with only a trace of gloss, stretching away in all directions until it meets the walls, where it seems to merge seamlessly into the vertical climb to the cave-like ceiling, dripping with stalactites.  The throne at the far side of the room is plain, barely more than a chair with a table beside it, both apparently sculpted wholly out of the floor.  

“I’m not, though,” Sephie says, and it’s only by speaking that she realizes her voice works.  It’s strong and firm and not at all lifeless, and Sephie closes her mouth, gathers her will to stand.

“You know,” the woman muses as Sephie considers the matter.  The stone is very hard--if she tries to stand and falls, she might hurt herself.  Or, of course, she might not.  She doesn’t know if it’s currently possible to hurt herself.  “I expected a great many things when I went on my sabbatical, but you were not among them.”

“I’m sorry,” Sephie says as she pulls her legs beneath her and nudges the dress out of the way.  “I think.”

The woman looks down at her at last, startled, almost distressed, and says, “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that.  My sister may have some adjusting to do, but you wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t quite attached.”

“Your sister,” Sephie repeats as she rises cautiously to her feet.  She doesn’t know if it’s that her mind still expects her body to be broken or simply that it’s been a very long day already, but she wavers dangerously, and the woman puts out a hand that Sephie catches hold of at once.  The hand is long-fingered and delicately calloused and pale--unhealthily pale, deathly pale, Sephie had always thought, and she bites back a titter now.  Deathly pale!  The hand is also strong, and the arm attached to it equally so, and the smile on the woman’s face is warm enough to make up for the cold stone still chilling Sephie’s bare feet.  “I’ve met your sister.”

“Yes,” the woman says.  “We fought in your coffee shop.  Or, rather, my sister came to yell at me in your coffee shop.  She has some strong opinions about my sabbatical.”

Sephie nods, slowly, and realizes that she’s still clutching awkwardly at the woman’s free hand.  The long, strong fingers hold her own in a grip as firm as stone, though, and so instead of trying to let go, she holds on tightly and asks the obvious question.

“Am I dead, then?”

“That’s correct, Persephone,” the woman says, apparently delighted.

“And this place is?”

“The audience chamber.”

Sephie nods again, even more slowly than before, and looks up at the woman.  It was less noticeable with the counter between them, but the woman is a full head taller than she is, her masses of white curls storming down her back like a crashing wave.  The scythe does not reflect light, for all its perfect polished shine, and the letters on it are in a language Sephie has never seen and yet seems to be a textual equivalent of a long-forgotten tune.  She can read them anyway, for all that they try to skitter from under her eye, and thinks of a Latin phrase she heard once.

“And...”  Sephie takes a deep breath with lungs that do not breath and listens for her heart that does not beat and thinks to herself--with neurons that do not fire--that she is hardly even surprised.  “And who are you?”

The woman smiles at her, and gives a small twist of their hands so that the grip is less awkward, and raises the knuckles of Sephie’s hand to her lips.  The touch is electric--quite literally.  It kicks through Sephie’s chest like the time she let a finger rest on the prong of a plug as she touched it to the outlet, her vision flaring brightly for a moment until the woman’s lips leave her skin.  

“I have many names,” the woman says as she lowers their hands again.  “Many of them forgotten, some of them remembered.  You can call me Death.”