#wessley
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renamed Poe to Wessley (he/they) our only opossum plush we want more.. we've always wanted one as a pet
#wessley#rawlo#dog#stuffed opossum#opossum plush#opossum stuffie#opossum plushie#opossum#possum#possum stuffie#possum plushie#stuffed possum#possum plush#plush#plushie#stuffed animal#stuffie#stuffed animals#object sentience#posic#plush community#plushie community#plushblr#plushcore#plushiecore
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“Who’s my favorite Bloodborne character?”
“The old guy! With the scythe and in the wheelchair!”
“What’s his name?”
“Uhhh… Wessley?”
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1977 Wess Year Group Makes A Donation To Old School
On Tuesday, the 1977 class of Wenchi Senior High School (WESS), in the Bono area, donated a GH40,000 mechanized water facility to their old school.
The facility, which was built to alleviate the school’s ongoing water issue, would also spare pupils and teachers the time-consuming walk to gather water.
At the commissioning celebration, Rev. Dr. Ayensu Mensah, President of the 1977-year group of…
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A Marionette's Ball
Yan! Chevalier x Fem! Reader x Yan! Gilbert
Tw!! Manipulation, threats of violence, implied captivity, period typical misogyny and Gilbert Von Obsidian himself
You didn’t tame shit; you were at best, a sacrificial lamb sent to curb the hunger of a ravenous tiger, only to end up becoming a plaything instead of a meal.
And now you were here, having somehow fooled another apex predator into thinking you were some sort of beast in your own right.
-----
You need to stop fiddling with your necklace.
You know you need to calm down, but doing so is another story; you can practically feel the weight of everyone’s stares on you, not malicious, but prying still in their curiosity.
And it’s tough fighting the urge to snatch one of the champagne flutes off of the waiter's plates and down it in one gulp, but the subtle warning of Chevalier’s fingers pressing at your waist helps you forget the idea.
Right.
Just make a good impression and then you’ll get to go back to your own schedule with only one scrutinizing set of eyes on you.
It’s almost impossible to mess this up anyways, with all the effort Sariel has been putting into making you a “true lady befitting of a prince”.
Ha.
The audacity of that claim makes you laugh.
As if you had a choice in any of this.
As if you were something more than a puppet on a string pulled by the most powerful man in the kingdom.
Nevertheless, you pushed through the lessons easily enough, it was, at the very least, an escape from Chevalier’s smothering presence, although you would rather have buried your nose into a good book instead.
At any rate, it doesn’t seem like much of your work will be put into play considering the way that Chevalier has you glued to his side.
You suppose you get the hostility, he’s always been a touch smothering even before… this, and it doesn’t help that princes from other nations are currently visiting too.
Not that you would have the opportunity to meet any of them considering how anal Chevalier was about your “safety”.
In fact, if it were a year ago when you were still “unruly” he would have probably kept you chained in his room the whole time.
Well, if all good behavior amounted to was this then you probably could have thrown a fit to get yourself locked up again. Now it was too late, and you were stuck smiling fakely at some random noble who came to give his greetings.
“My, my, if it isn’t the mystery woman that everyone’s been wondering about. Everyone’s been wondering about the one who stole the Chevalier Micheal’s heart, it's a pleasure to finally be able to meet you.” The nobleman, who you recall vaguely being named Lord Wessley, greets you with a certain, subtle prying look on his face as he studies you.
“Oh, you flatter me, but I’m afraid I’m not much to speak of. Any compliments should be redirected towards my fiancé.” You smile, cringing at the use of the word fiancé but happy enough with the way Chevalier’s brow furrows ever so slightly in annoyance.
You can almost hear his voice ringing out in your ears.
“If you have enough time to dish out praise, then you have enough time to do something useful with yourself, simpleton.”
“Praise worthy indeed!” Another man cuts in, rudely, albeit he’s possibly a bit drunk already. “An arsenal of military feats, a genius intellect that only appears once a century, and now a bride to be, you’re truly something else Prince Chevalier!”
You have to try your hardest to bite back the laugh bubbling up in you and Chevalier slightly grimaces.
Wessley furrows his eyebrows slightly at the intrusion but doesn’t comment, or rather, doesn’t get the chance to comment as he’s interrupted again.
“And what a beauty she is, I can see why you’ve kept her locked up away from the rest of us!”
And now you are no longer smiling.
Karma really is a bitch.
The grip around your waist tightens and you find yourself conflicted about whether to celebrate the (hopefully only) verbal lashing this misogynistic bastard will get or to intervene for the sake of this very clearly drunk man.
Empathy wins out in the end, but also because you don’t trust Chevalier not to immediately jump at the chance to “incidentally” find this man charged with treason.
“I’m flattered by praise, truly, but you look a bit sickly to me, are you feeling alright?”
He opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off smoothly.
“Poor thing, I bet you can hardly stand, much less answer coherently, but there are several couches in the foyer for you to rest at. I’d escort you myself but, considering the circumstances, perhaps Lord Wessley can escort you instead?”
Of course, Wessley himself isn’t too keen on leaving the conversation, seeing as he probably started it to discuss his own business. But when you phrase it in such a way of offering good will, he can’t refuse.
With a furrowed brow he replies in kind and leaves.
Perhaps Sariel’s lessons did come in handy, you think as you find yourself alone again.
A sigh from Chevalier has you mending your thoughts, not completely alone, unfortunately.
“How bothersome.” He grumbles, finally letting his arm drop from your waist.
“Yeah, being stuck around someone you can’t stand, tell me about it.”
He gives you a look which would scare the living daylights out of even a battle hardened soldier, to which you innocently smile at.
You know him well enough to know when you’re actually in trouble.
“What? Just offering some words of support in your trying times Prince Chevalier, now wipe that look of murder off before our guests get any ideas.”
Your smile dips into a frown when instead of falling for the taunt he smirks at you.
“Prince Chevalier? I recall being referred to as fiancé earlier.”
You narrow your gaze, regretting your earlier decision to speak.
“Don’t read much into it, you’ll strain your eyes trying to find nothing.”
He simply smirks again.
“Complacency is a dangerous thing isn’t it?”
He leans in closer, tilting your head up, sending roils of annoyance and slight embarrassment through you as you fix your eyes on his face, unwavering from his.
“...It’d be a shame for you, if all your efforts were for naught.”
He chuckles derisively, letting you go.
“Now, wipe that look of murder off before our guests get any ideas.”
You glare at him, annoyed that he used your words against you, before deciding to make a tactful retreat.
“Now that I’ve taken care of your nuisances, I’m taking care of mine for a bit and freshening up. Does that please your highness, or should I stay tethered to your side for another hour?”
He scoffs.
“Just don’t get lost, simpleton.”
To use Clavis’s terminology, the Cheva translation of that would mean: “Go ahead, but if you aren’t back in 10 minutes I will find you and there will be consequences.”
“...Whatever your highness wishes.”
—
You supposed Chevalier already knew that you weren’t going to the bathroom to freshen up, rather instead to find a private area to ruminate at being bested by him once more, and that almost made you even more upset.
It’s stupid that you’re even angry, you know that there's no winning a fight against him. It was already a given that he would twist your words around in an attempt to make you succumb to him, and yet…
You furrow your brow as you turn the corner.
It was all you could do, if you could annoy him, even just a bit then that would be victory enough…
At least it should be, if you didn’t get carried away with it.
But damn you for having a competitive streak and damn him for pointing out the one idea that would make you sick to your stomach.
(Although, maybe if you thought about it more, you would find it was only his own sick desires taking form in his words.)
“Complacency, my ass.” You mutter, as you push open the door to the library.
Despite this being originally Chevalier’s domain, you’ve also been quite the avid reader, and so any time alone with books was welcome. And even if you weren’t alone… well at least he had the sense not to disturb you, outside of his general presence.
Scanning the room when you enter, you find your eyes catching on the rows of bookshelves before halting when you see the shape of a figure, dimly lit by a candle.
You frown slightly.
While there were no set rules against entering a host’s library, it was still considered bad taste to enter rooms you weren’t explicitly given access to. Not that this person seemed unaware of it, judging by the lofty coat you could make out they seemed to be born into wealth.
Well, you weren’t exactly a shining beacon of manners either, considering that you were ditching your debut ball in order to sulk in the corner of a dark room because your captor/fiancé bested you in a game of wits.
Although, when you put it that way, your life does sound significantly more ridiculous.
You, albeit hesitantly, decide to give the person the benefit of the doubt and approach them to direct them back to the ball.
“Excuse me?” You call out, nearing the figure. “Are you lost?”
They turn around, and it becomes apparent that they’re a man. But not just any man, you realize, as a few more details come to light that have you suddenly freezing in place.
First, the dark crimson eye that gazes upon you while the other hides behind a black eye patch.
Second, the black cane who’s shiny finish glints in the candle light.
And lastly, the golden encrusted emblem, signature of an Obsidianite.
“Oh no, I’m exactly where I need to be.” Gilbert Von Obsidian responds cheerfully.
…
You suddenly have the sense that you’ve, to use words that Chevalier claims are “crude and boorish”, absolutely fucked up.
To be fair to you, you hadn’t been able to see even a glimpse of any foreign princes, much less would you have predicted that the damn Prince of Obsidian was going to be there, or more accurately here, in your lovely library safe space.
It’s not often that anyone other than Chevalier makes you stumped on what to do these days, but that goes to show how dangerous complacency really is.
“Prince Gilbert.” You finally manage to greet, falling into a practiced curtsey.
When you pull your head back up, he has an innocuous smile on his face, eyes crinkled slightly.
“No need to lower yourself, (Name) (Last Name), soon enough we’ll be on the same social standing won’t we?”
Oh, of course he knows who you are, couldn’t make it any less difficult for you could he? Still, the provocation (actually, whether he knew it as a provocation or not was a matter to be unseen yet) of your future engagement has you irritated as well as afraid.
“You never know what might happen.” You respond neutrally. “I’d hate to offend because I grew cocky.”
“Cautious, aren’t you?” He questions.
“That’s a good trait to have, although, I can’t say I would’ve thought the woman who tamed the Brutal Beast would be so meek.”
You want to laugh at his attempt at a jab, because he couldn’t be closer to the truth.
You didn’t tame shit; you were at best, a sacrificial lamb sent to curb the hunger of a ravenous tiger, only to end up becoming a plaything instead of a meal.
And now you were here, having somehow fooled another apex predator into thinking you were some sort of beast in your own right.
But even still, you couldn’t help the words that poured out of your mouth.
“I would argue that being meek and being cautious are entirely different, but it must be difficult to understand from your perspective.”
“That so?” He hums. “What’s your view then?”
“That you can’t tell the difference, because for you, someone who has been powerful and feared for so long, there’s hardly any need for subtlety when dealing with others. For people like me, discretion is a necessary tool.”
A tinge of bitterness seeps into your tone as you respond, or maybe it's jealousy; you can’t tell.
But it’s enough to make Gilbert pause, facing you, seemingly looking at you like he hasn’t seen you before, his eye glinting with something akin to interest.
Oh.
Shit.
You’ve always had a bad habit of overplaying your hand during your time with Chevalier, possibly because you were so used to a lack of consequences due to his soft spot. It would’ve been better and safer for him to believe you were Chevalier’s little trophy wife and suffer the stab it would take to your ego.
“...I suppose that “genius’s thinking alike” must be true, for you to be able to make such a succinct assumption about me.” He smiles, this time his eyes glinting with something darker.
“...I wouldn’t go so far as to imply that Prince Gilbert.” You say, desperate in your attempt to backtrack.
“Oh? Cowering now, are we?” He asks, the smile on his face growing more predatory. “And here I thought you’d be more vicious.”
He’s clearly trying to pry at you, to goad you into snapping at him, but you’ve since realized that the playing field had favored him from the start and you’d do better to avoid the trap he’d set for you.
“...I think you have rather high expectations, that you might think of me similar to the company I keep.”
“And you’d be right.” He says, drawing himself closer to you, even more empowering as he draws near, his red eye glistening like the blade of a knife.
You find yourself wanting to run, like the terrified lamb you are in the face of the threatening jaws of the beast in front of you.
But you don’t.
Because these damn beasts are always just toying with you, never daring to go for the killing blow.
He towers over you, clearly trying to get a reaction out of you, but you find that you can’t quite summon up the effort to change your expression.
“…”
“…”
Moments pass and his eye widens a bit, seemingly shocked at your lack of expression.
“You aren’t scared, are you?” He states, more as a fact than a question as he pulls himself away to an appropriate distance.
You shrug as if to say you don’t quite care, but you felt like laughing.
The truth is, he’s wrong.
You’re constantly scared, every single day of your life.
When you wake up, when you go to sleep, you’re filled with horror constantly, terrified by the man who lays beside you. Every move you make is calculated and stuff, made in fear of the blades, not set to cut you, but rather everything you know and love.
Even now you’re scared, not quite by the prospect of death, but by the fact that it doesn’t scare you.
The fact that you would rather accept freedom in the form of being removed from your earthly ties than to live another life being tethered to this life scares you, because you know death is the only way you’ll be safe from him.
It brings you only slight ease that despite his best efforts of chasing perfection, Chevalier still only amounts to a man.
Gilbert’s laugh snaps you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the man in front of you.
“That’s excellent!” He says, toothy grin lighting up his face, eye lighting up like he’s a child who’s found a new toy to play with.
Somewhere deep down you can feel a familiar sense of dread forming in the pit of your stomach that only comes with Chevalier, almost like deja vu.
It shouldn’t surprise you, after all it’s said that the prince of Obsidian is a genius only the likes of Chevalier could rival. It’s the type of gossip you used to absentmindedly listen to while busying yourself walking down the streets.
Still, you’ve survived Chevalier, albeit with your share of scars, you can handle at least one chance meeting with another snobby prince.
“Are you done threatening me then Prince Gilbert? I believe my fiancé is looking for me.” You say, keeping your tone neutral.
He chuckles, that wide, creepily childlike smile still on his face as he hears you speak.
“Of course. Tell Prince Chevalier that I congratulate him on finding such an interesting toy.”
“Of course.” You mimic, turning on your heel to leave. “Perhaps next time we can meet in a more fitting setting rather than the library, Prince Gilbert.”
Petty, yes, but he doesn’t seem affected by the rebuttal you throw his way judging by the small laugh he lets out as you leave.
Toy, huh?
You think, as you find yourself retracing your steps back to the ballroom.
More fitting than lover that’s for sure, but you doubt even a genius like Gilbert would understand from just a glance that that was the case, rather he meant it in a dismissive manner.
But still, you can’t help the bitter smile that appears on your face at the statement.
Because you would end up back at Chevalier’s side, and either through your expressions or through his own logic system that you couldn’t possibly fathom, he would understand everything that happened. And then, like always, you would end up locked up in a cage while, ironically, the beast who should be locked in there would prowl around, growling at anyone who came close, possessive of his toy.
And the worst part is, even though you could see the path paved for you, leading you to your own demise, you still had to follow it, like written in a story, like fate.
And maybe that’s why you smile instead of frown when you see your beloved captor’s face twist into a look of grim understanding as he sees you again, wordlessly gesturing you to draw nearer with his gaze.
Because ironically enough, the only person even close enough to understanding or even changing your situation was the same breed as the monster that possessed you.
And it’s an amusing thought to you.
But if you could see the expression of a certain dark haired man, thinking almost fondly on your interaction, you wouldn’t find it half as funny.
#ikemen prince#ikepri#ikepri x reader#ikemen prince x reader#yandere ikepri#yandere ikemen prince#chevalier x reader#yandere chevalier x reader#gilbert von obsidian#gilbert x reader#chevalier michel#yandere gilbert von obsidian#yandere x reader#yandere#fem reader#female reader#surprise im back
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LILY-ROSE DEPP
Lily with Dani, new photo by Alexander Wessley ig stories
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Nice ask week 🥰
Which of your own fics is the most likely to get a sequel?
(👀 totally random question, of course 😆)
Hello! Haha thank you for this totally random question! ❤️ I would like to revisit the swimming universe in some way because I loved it so much. But I think...depending on where the Tarlos-having-kids plotline goes in season 5, there's scope for a sequel to Afterglow of a Supernova. I want to stay as canon compliant as possible, but it would be fun to involve Scott and Wessley in some well-meaning bumbling way if TK and Carlos did have kid.
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I am watching the Rookie starting from s1 for the first time. It's so good, but omg 1x16!!!
I CANT BELIEVE THEY KILLED CAPTAIN ANDERSON!!!! SHE WAS SO COOL UGHHHH
Also the Chenford scenesssss
Tim and Isabel 😭😭😭 He really loves her so much and it's so heartbreaking
Angela and Wessley are so cute, I love their dynamic and knowing that they end up married with a kid makes it so much better. The Valentine's Day breakup makes me so sad tho
Also really sad to see Talia gone but I'm glad she did based on how she was treated. Sad that no one else on the cast defended her to the execs or to the asses that were harassing her though :(
#ive seen s5#and bits and pieces of past seasons#but this is my first time watching from the beginning#Chenford#the rookie#john nolan#tim bradford#lucy chen#captain anderson#talia bishop#angela lopez#rambles#the rookie s1#the rookie s2
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Thank you for daily content of Garreth Wessley ❤️
Double thank you for the content not being a way to get close to Sebastian ❤️
The first one is a rare find on its own nvm without him being a stepping stone for Sebby!
I'm not sure how much actual content I provide except just thirsting over screenshots but thank you 🖤
I'm working on a couple of pieces of writing for him though, he's such a sweetie and deserves more attention.
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So, White, Chalder, Wessley et al (joined by by Per Fink himself!) have put out a new article (not surprising):
[ID: a review in the journal "Neuropsychiatry" titled "Anomalies in the review process and interpretation of the evidence in the NICE guideline for chronic fatigue syndrome and myalgic encephalomyelitis /end ID]
which BMJ is covering as basically "top researchers raise alarm about NICE guidelines"...
there are 49 authors total... and unsuspecting eyes might even find this credible, until you scroll down to the conflict of interest section:
[ID: a series of conflict of interest statements that takes up 81 lines /end ID]
Highlights include disability insurance consultancy and actually conducting sundry GET and CBT trials (and publishing on them in works that you get royalties from).
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IT Spawn Part 1: Bride
(This series of fanfics is in an alternate universe where the Loser's Club didn't get all of Pennywise's eggs, something that's really only been in the book rather than the movies, and his spawn grew mature and sought revenge! Also special thanks to my old friend Wessley who helped to create these characters)
It'd been a few years since the Loser's Club victory, and in that time the club had been able to flourish in their chosen areas, some of them even having children of their own, while others focused on their careers.
Most of them had been able to move on past the horrific events, even with being able to now fully remember them - perhaps they didn't move on -well-, but they moved on.
Richie however, had not moved on; far from it in fact. The reason of course, was obvious, as he'd lost his dearest friend, and secret crush, Eddie, just when he was finally in a position where he felt comfortable admitting his feelings - and worse still, they'd been forced to leave his body behind, not even granted the dignity of a burial.
As such, Richie had poured almost all of his attention into his job, both as a distraction and as a form of healing; he'd always loved making people laugh after all, even if he often came off as annoying while doing it.
Tonight, Richie came out from the back of a comedy club, sighing softly as he adjusted his coat, watching soft specks of snow gradually glide down onto the sidewalk before him. It wasn't much of a snowfall, but the cold was still quite biting. He huffed, a bit worn out from doing his act, but feeling at least a bit better than he had when he came in.
Even with the pain of Eddie's death, his mind wasn't entirely muddled; there was plenty of comfort to be found in seeing that horrible clown die right before his eyes. The beast might've been a master of tricks, but he -knew- they killed him, he saw it, he FELT it. He knew it'd be okay from here on out, he just wasn't sure how long it'd take to feel like it.
He was taken from his thoughts a sound, however. The soft, sorrowful sound of a young woman crying. He stepped out from the back of the club and peered down the sidewalk, squinting. At first, he couldn't see anything, left or right, upon the sidewalk, but after a moment of further squinting he spotted a tall woman clad in a wedding dress, her dress such a pure, silken white it must've gotten lost for a minute amongst the snow.
He stood near the edge of the sidewalk, not yet fully stepping upon it, adjusting his glasses as he peered at the woman. She had her knees hugged to her chest, arms fully wrapped around both of her legs, one hand empty, while the other hand clutched a bouquet of ever-so-slightly wilted roses. Her arms were covered by long gloves, and her legs covered by tight white stockings, making nearly ever bit of skin upon her person hidden from view.
Richie wasn't sure what to do at first...but it was freezing out, and this woman was in bridal attire of all things, even as covered as she was that wouldn't cut it in this weather, not to mention of course she looked upset. Of course, a bit of lingering paranoia still clung to his mind, but again he reminded himself the time for all of that had passed; this was just a woman, nothing more.
He stepped upon the sidewalk and took two steps forward; just enough so he wouldn't be yelling when trying to speak with her. "Hey miss? You alright?" The woman paused in her crying, sniffling a bit as she ever so slightly rose her head up from her knees. Now that her head was lifted, albeit partially, he could see that her face was completely sealed behind the silken depths of a wedding veil. The only thing he could see beyond the veil was a faint ting of red, which he presumed was her lipstick.
"O-Oh...hello." She looked at him for a moment, adjusting herself slightly in her seat as she seemed a bit embarrassed. "...You're...the man from the posters, yes?"
Richie glanced behind him towards the comedy club, which indeed had posters of him clung to the wall, before looking back to her. "Heh, yeah, that's me. Seriously though, are you okay?"
She sniffled, rubbing a gloved hand under her veil to wipe her tears, before letting her hand fall to her side, a brief glimpse of red left upon her glove from the action. "No...I-I'm not. I...I got stood up, at the altar. I don't know what went wrong...I had it all planned perfectly. I...I thought he was the one.."
She began to fall back into sobs, putting her hands to her veil and crying, hunched forward over her knees. Richie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and unconsciously tears of his own began to well up in his eyes. "...Damn...I'm really sorry that happened miss. Things don't always go the way we plan, I guess...if it helps any, it's his loss." He said, managing a soft smile as he tried to lighten the mood. "You need a cab home or something?"
The woman's hands fell from her face, releasing one last sniffle before she looked forward. "Oh Richie...you're such a kind man. You're always so good at helping, aren't you? Helping people smile..."
Then...slowly but surely, her tone of voice began to change, from heartbroken and downtrodden to...something else.
"But you don't smile on the inside anymore, do you Richie? You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye - to heal. And poor Eddie...can you even -begin- to imagine what it's like to be buried underneath that much sewage? All he'll ever have for company is the waste of a whole entire town.."
He froze. He couldn't help it, he just...froze up. The voice wasn't familiar - it was still the woman's voice, but...the tone. That...fucking tone. The cruel tone of someone that wasn't just fully aware of just the right buttons to push to upset someone, but absolutely -relished- in every single second of pain each and every word inflicted.
She looked up to him, fully raising her head, and even unable to see her eyes beyond the veil, her gaze bore into him in ways he wish he'd never felt before. She spoke again, this time the original voice of a normal woman entirey lost into a warped, distant warble of icey words. "What's the matter Richie? You beat IT - didn't you?"
A desperate shriek finally let lose from Richie's throat as his stiff legs finally found motion again, barrelling down the other side of the sidewalk as fast as he possibly could, tears streaming down his cheeks as he ran. His head screamed with discordant thoughts, unable to process how this was happening. They did it, damnit! He knew they did! He saw it! He saw the things corpse, he saw that wretched things hideaway floud, he saw them crush the eggs-
...Wait. The eggs. But...b-but they got them all he...h-he knew they did. He ducked thoughtlessly down towards an old, run-down convenience store, nearly tripping as he was still lost in his panicked thoughts. He huddled up near the gas pumps and sobbed, his panic quickly morphing into hopelessness.
If they hadn't got IT...then...
Then it really was hopeless, wasn't it? If even missing just one of those fucking eggs could start this hell all over again then...what was even the point of fighting?
The lights above him flickered; once, twice...and on the third, he felt someone nestled beside him, their shoulder butting up right against his own. He whimpered, closing his eyes tightly. The being stood beside him slowly rose out its hand and cupped his chin, the skin slimy and clammy to the touch, and gently moved his head to face it. Richie whimpered again, and slowly opened his eyes.
The twisted, mangled visage of Eddie stared back at him. His black hair matted with years of muck and decay, his face a sickly greyish blue color, as if lost at sea, his very presence emitting a choking odor of pure, unfiltered death. But somehow worst of all...he was clad in a groom's tuxedo, the outfit somehow pristine despite the wretched corpse it clung to.
"It's okay Richie...I love you."
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more human oc stuff (mainly concept stuff of Wessley who i've been fixating on for the past 24 hours)
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Poe!! (he/they) isn't he so cute we love them.. i think we need more opossum pluhsies. i am one after all - Timothy
#opossum#wessley#possum#opossum plushie#opossum stuffie#stuffed opossum#plush opossum#opossum plush#possum plush#possum plushie#possum stuffie#stuffed possum#plush#plushie#stuffed animal#stuffie#stuffed animals#plush community#object sentience#plushie community#posic#posic community#posic companion
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Recent Match Report - Zimbabwe vs Afghanistan 1st T20I 2022
Recent Match Report – Zimbabwe vs Afghanistan 1st T20I 2022
In the absence of Sean Williams, Zimbabwe’s batting continued to look thin, with only two of their batters scoring more than 30. Wessley Madhevere, who was one of those, survived the loss of Innocent Kaia, his opening partner, to share a second-wicket stand of 30 with captain Craig Ervine. The pair was in a good position to lay a solid foundation for Zimbabwe but Ervine became debutant Nijat…
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Recent Match Report - Zimbabwe vs Afghanistan 1st T20I 2022
Recent Match Report – Zimbabwe vs Afghanistan 1st T20I 2022
In the absence of Sean Williams, Zimbabwe’s batting continued to look thin, with only two of their batters scoring more than 30. Wessley Madhevere, who was one of those, survived the loss of Innocent Kaia, his opening partner, to share a second-wicket stand of 30 with captain Craig Ervine. The pair was in a good position to lay a solid foundation for Zimbabwe but Ervine became debutant Nijat…
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#1st#Afghanistan#Afghanistan in Zimbabwe#articles#match#report#reports#T20I#ZIM vs AFG#Zimbabwe#Zimbabwe vs Afghanistan 1st T20I cricket news
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🦥
can I have a blurb where the reader likes percy weasley but he's super oblivious and everyone else knows (Oliver, Penelope, etc) except him.
thank u and congrats <3
gn reader <3
it felt like he was doing it on purpose. like he didn’t want to hurt you but at the same time didn’t find it in himself to directly turn you down.
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“perce, uh- i was wondering... if you’d like to go out with me sometime?”
he looked up at you, and then out the window of the great hall, as if in deep thought, “we could go even now. it’s pretty nice outside, don’t you think?”
from beside you, oliver closed his eyes tightly, trying his best not to laugh, “i don’t think they meant it like that, weasley.”
but percy seemed to keep being his oblivious self, eyebrows pushing together in pure confusion, “y-you don’t wanna go now, then? that’s alright! we can go anytime you’d like.”
you gave him a tight smile, turning on your heel and sighing loudly — you’d have to come up with something.
ღ
weeks full of you trying to confess your feelings to percy passed, but whatever you’d say, he’d have a clueless answer for.
so, one day, you caught him reading by himself on the library, and didn’t think twice about approaching him.
“percy” you called, your tone as serious as it could get as you sat down on the chair beside him.
“y/n/n, hi! what do you think i-”
“no, shut up!” you groaned, your hands reaching up to cover your face, flushed from running, “i like you” you admitted.
his mouth hung open at your words, and you took that as a sign to continue, “merlin, i’m in love with you. have been for the longest time now. is this your stupid self being oblivious or you just don’t want to-”
“no!” said percy quickly, taking your hands in his as you’d noticed he put his book aside, closing it. well, that was new. “y-you’re in love with me?” his eyes lit up when you nodded, a weak smile playing at your lips, “me too” he whispered, his lips now mere inches away from yours, hot breath fanning your face, “so much... godric, i love you so much.”
and with that, your lips collided, moving against each other in a gentle, passionate kiss.
#jade’s 2.3k celebration#this is shit lol im sorry#it had to be short so yeah#this is all i could do#percy weasley x you#percy weasley x reader#percy wessley x y/n#percy weasley blurb#percy weasley fluff#harry potter fluff
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In an alternate universe Liam Greymane survived being shot by Sylvanas when his father, Genn, infected him. He later fell in love and married the daughter of the very woman that had almost killed him, a lovely half-elf girl named Sharrise. The two went on to have a son named Wessley, who was born a Worgen.
#world of warcraft oc#world of warcraft#warcraft#warcraft rp#world of warcraft rp#warcraft ocs#many muses one mun#sharrise marris#liam greymane#worgen#world of warcraft ocs#wessley greymane
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