#small builders near me

[goozzby23]

Which online marketplace reigns in South Africa for services?

In the digital age, convenience and efficiency have become paramount for consumers seeking services for their homes or businesses. The rise of online marketplaces has revolutionized the way we access and book various services. Among these platforms, one stands out as the reigning champion in South Africa - Goozzby. Goozzby is an online services marketplace that connects customers with a diverse array of professional service providers, offering everything from AC repair and plumbing to carpentry and more. This blog will delve into the reasons why Goozzby has become the go-to platform for South Africans in need of reliable and trusted services. 

A Multitude of Services at Your Fingertips Goozzby offers an extensive selection of services that cater to both residential and commercial needs. Whether you require a skilled handyman for a quick fix or a team of experts for a large-scale project, Goozzby has you covered. Some of the services available on the platform include:

AC Repair: Keep your home or business cool with expert AC repair services from trusted technicians. Plumbing: From leaky faucets to complex plumbing issues, Goozzby connects you with skilled plumbers to address all your plumbing needs.

Electrical Work: Ensure the safety of your property with qualified electricians for all electrical installations and repairs.

Carpentry: Whether you need custom furniture or repairs, Goozzby  carpenters have got the skills to deliver top-notch solutions.

Building Services: Find reliable builders for construction projects or renovations to transform your property. 

Tree Felling: Professional tree fellers help maintain the greenery around your property while ensuring safety.

The above list is by no means exhaustive, as Goozzby offers an extensive list of other handyman services to cater to every possible requirement.

User-Friendly Interface for Effortless Bookings Goozzby prides itself on its user-friendly interface, making it simple and convenient for customers to find and book the services they need. The platform's website and mobile app allow users to effortlessly browse through a wide range of service providers, filter results by location and service type, compare pricing, read reviews, and make informed decisions.

Verified and Trusted Service Providers One of the key factors that set Goozzby apart is its commitment to ensuring the reliability and trustworthiness of its service providers. Every professional on the platform undergoes a rigorous verification process, which includes background checks, license verification, and review of customer feedback. This commitment to quality helps customers feel confident in their choices and fosters a sense of trust in the Goozzby community.

Seamless Booking Process

The platform streamlines the booking process, allowing customers to schedule appointments at their convenience. With just a few clicks, users can select their preferred service provider, specify the date and time of service, and even request specific details or requirements for their project. This streamlined approach saves customers valuable time and energy, eliminating the hassle of making individual arrangements with service providers.

Customer Reviews and Ratings Customer feedback is a vital aspect of any online marketplace, and Goozzby recognizes its significance. The platform features a comprehensive review and rating system, enabling customers to leave honest feedback about their experience with service providers. These reviews help potential clients make well-informed decisions based on the experiences of others, contributing to a more transparent and trustworthy platform.

In conclusion, Goozzby has emerged as the top online services marketplace in South Africa, revolutionizing how customers access and book professional services for their homes and businesses. With a diverse array of services and a user-friendly interface, Goozzby offers an unparalleled experience. Its commitment to verifying and showcasing trusted service providers has cultivated a loyal customer base. So why wait? Book your needed services now through Goozzby and experience the convenience, reliability, and efficiency that the platform offers. Let the experts take care of your needs, and enjoy peace of mind knowing that you'r in capable hands. Visit the Goozzby website today and start your journey towards seamless service bookings for your home or business. https://www.goozzby.com/

[eliteconstructionslondon]

Hire the Biggest constructions company in London 2025-Elite Constructions London

London, a city in continual flux, relies on a network of elite construction firms to revamp its skyline. These companies, such as Elite Constructions London, have the knowledge, inventiveness, and resources to bring ambitious projects to fruition. These businesses, which prioritize quality, sustainability, and customer pleasure, are critical to London's continued growth. So hire the biggest constructions company in London. Call +44 07885 455 343.

[staycationfiberglasspools]

Dive into Luxury: Hire the Best Swimming Pool Builders in San Antonio

Transforming your backyard into a personal oasis starts with selecting the right swimming pool builders in San Antonio. Skilled professionals handle everything from design to installation, bringing your vision to life with options customized to your space, lifestyle, and preferences. As fiberglass pools gain popularity, more San Antonio homeowners are opting for this durable and stylish choice for their homes.

Why Fiberglass Pools Are the Top Choice

Fiberglass pools near you are renowned for their low maintenance and long-lasting quality. Unlike traditional concrete pools, fiberglass options are pre-formed, ensuring a quicker and smoother installation process. These pools are non-porous, which makes them resistant to algae buildup and easier to clean. Whether you’re looking for small fiberglass pools to fit compact spaces or larger options for entertainment, fiberglass offers versatility and aesthetic appeal.

In addition to their practical benefits, fiberglass pools come in a variety of designs that can be customized to match your backyard's theme. This flexibility makes them a preferred choice for homeowners who value both aesthetics and functionality. For families, these pools provide a safe and comfortable environment, ensuring endless fun and relaxation.

Collaborate with the Best Builders in San Antonio

Partnering with experienced San Antonio pool builders near you is critical to achieving a flawless installation. These professionals guide you through every step, from selecting the right pool model to ensuring precise placement and finishing touches. Their expertise ensures the longevity of your pool, reducing the likelihood of costly repairs down the line.

Top builders also provide valuable insights into additional features, such as energy-efficient heating systems, LED lighting, and water features, to elevate the functionality and appeal of your pool. By integrating these elements, you can create a backyard space that is as practical as it is beautiful. Accessories like automatic pool covers or robotic cleaners can further simplify maintenance, giving you more time to enjoy your pool.

Staycation Fiberglass Pools: Your Trusted Partner

If you’re searching for fiberglass pool builders in San Antonio, Staycation Fiberglass Pools stands out as a trusted name. Specializing in a wide range of best fiberglass pools San Antonio has to offer, they prioritize quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction. Their pool models are designed to withstand the Texas climate while delivering unmatched style and durability.

Staycation Fiberglass Pools also provides personalized consultations, helping you select a pool design that aligns with your vision. Whether it’s a compact option for smaller yards or a luxurious model with advanced features, they ensure a seamless installation process. Additionally, they offer post-installation support, ensuring your pool remains in top condition for years to come.

Enhance Your Backyard with Fiberglass Pools

Investing in a pool is not just about enhancing the look of your backyard—it’s about improving your lifestyle. With the help of swimming pool builders in San Antonio, you can create a space that’s perfect for relaxation, exercise, and family gatherings. Fiberglass pools, with their sleek designs and durable construction, make for a smart choice that adds lasting value to your property.

From initial consultation to the final installation, Staycation Fiberglass Pools ensures every detail is handled with precision. Trust their team to deliver a pool that exceeds your expectations and transforms your backyard into a luxurious retreat.

[staycation-fiberglass-pools]

Discover why fiberglass pools are the top choice with trusted swimming pool builders in San Antonio. Learn how Staycation Fiberglass Pools can transform your backyard.

[m8-group]

Premier Web Design & Marketing Agency in Miami | M8 Group

Elevate your online presence with Miami's top web design & marketing agency. Offering website design in Miami, WordPress web design in NYC, and digital services. Visit us at M8-group.com.

[hannbuilt]

Build Your Dream Home with Hann Builders - The Premier Custom Builders in Houston, TX

Custom builders are professionals who specialize in constructing personalized homes tailored to the specific needs and preferences of their clients. With expertise in design, construction, and attention to detail, custom builders work closely with homeowners to create unique, one-of-a-kind residences that reflect their individuality and lifestyle. From architectural plans to material selection, custom builders bring dreams to life through their craftsmanship and dedication to customer satisfaction.

Congratulations on reaching a milestone in your life! You've finally saved up enough to build your dream home. But with so many custom builders in Houston, how do you find the right one? Look no further than Hann Builders, a trusted name in the industry for over 35 years. With our wealth of experience and commitment to excellence, we are the ideal choice to bring your dream home to life.

At Hann Builders, we understand that your dream home is a reflection of your unique style and needs. Our design consultants will sit down with you and take the time to understand your vision. By discussing your preferences, budget, and requirements, we will develop a comprehensive plan that aligns perfectly with your expectations.

Once you approve the design, our team of Custom Builders in Houstonwill commence the construction of your dream home. With a focus on the latest technology and building techniques, we ensure that every aspect of your home is built to the highest standards. From the foundation to the finishing touches, we use only top-quality materials to guarantee durability and longevity.

We believe that your involvement throughout the construction process is crucial. That's why we keep you informed and updated at every step, ensuring that your home is being built exactly the way you want it. Our team is always available to address any questions or concerns you may have, providing you with peace of mind and confidence in the progress of your project.

At Hann Builders, our ultimate goal is your complete satisfaction. Before handing over the keys, we conduct a thorough walkthrough of your finished home, ensuring that every detail meets your expectations. We take pride in our commitment to delivering homes that not only meet but exceed your dreams. With us, your satisfaction is our priority.

If you are searching for custom builders in Houston, TX, look no further than Hann Builders. Let us collaborate with you to create the home you've always envisioned, all while staying within your budget. Take the first step towards your dream home by calling us at 832-435-7792 or visiting our website https://www.hannbuilt.com/. We can't wait to bring your dream home to life!

[personapeters]

𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

— a rafe cameron one shot (1 of 2) part one • part two

✰ rafe and barry were on their way back from handling business when they come across someone stuck on the side of the road — that someone being the richest kook in town’s daughter, y/n.

rating: sfw — cw: very suggestive/graphic language

“i don’t give a fuck what he said,” barry grumbled as he leaned back in his seat, “he’s payin’ by tonight or we’re bustin’ his fuckin’ head in, alright?” rafe nodded dismissively, unaffected by the graphic comment as his blue eyes were lazily focused on the road before them, a singular hand resting on the wheel as he steered the old truck. the following moments were silent, only filled with the soft hum of the engine and low buzz from the radio before something — or someone — caught rafe’s eye.

“oh, shit,” he whispered to himself, gradually lifting his foot from the gas as he peered out the dirty window. barry perked up at his utterance and followed his gaze, his eyes landing on a girl in the near distance sat perched on the curb, a hand in her hair as she held a phone to her ear. beside her was a pearly pink bronco, slightly tilted forward on it’s front, right side — flat tire.

“who the fuck is that? you know ‘er?” barry wondered aloud, his dark eyes flickering between rafe and the girl outside. “nah… i mean, yeah, kinda… that’s—uh, she’s grant mason’s daughter,” rafe mumbled, feeling sudden waves of internal conflict wash over him.

he’d seen her insanely expensive car before, perched in the long winding driveway of the mason’s mansion whenever he’d drive past — it was unmistakably of mason property. he’d also seen her face before on a company advert pamphlet in his fathers office: her mother, father, sister, dog and her — a perfect family.

“mason?” barry began with rafe quickly answering his unspoken question, “yeah, mason manufacturing.” barry laughed, a small smile pulling at his lips leaving his his shiny silver tooth on full display, “aw shit, lil’ kook princess done fucked up her ride.”

rafe bit the inside of his lip in a moment of contemplation, unsure of whether he should slam on the gas or the break. a beat passed as the cogs in his brain began to turn before he let out a defeated sigh, abruptly twisting the wheel and averting the truck onto the opposite side of the road.

“aye, fuck're y'doin’? you’re not about to go play bob the fuckin’ builder, are you?” barry gripped, sitting up in his seat with thick, furrowed brows. “relax,” rafe reasoned in annoyance, “i know what i’m doin’.”

and that, he did — rafe wasn’t one to do favors for people, especially for someone he doesn’t know, but this time was different. he’s learned over time to always keep your friends close and your potential assets closer; the daughter of the grant mason was simply a door he needed opened to fully set foot inside — to give himself and his father an upper hand.

barry scoffed and leaned back in his seat once more, resting an elbow on the passenger door before resting his forehead in his hand. “right — know what y’doin’ like y’always do,” barry muttered dismissively, “jus’ make it quick.”

“could go faster if you helped, y’know,” rafe murmured sarcastically, causing barry to let out an even more sarcastic laugh, saying, “yeah, ain’t shit in that for me, country club — you got it.”

and with that, rafe begrudgingly exited the truck with a light slam of the door, preparing himself to feign the fakest, most well-rounded persona he possibly could in order to make, what would hopefully be, a lasting impression.

the girl on the curb’s head perked up at the sudden noise, her eyes slightly widening at the stranger rapidly approaching. rafe noticed, forcing a smile across his face before speaking. “hey! you alright?” he asked as ‘warmly’ as he could, jogging across the road before stopping a mere few feet away.

“uh, hi — yeah, i’m good, i just— i got a flat,” she explained bashfully with a smile, gesturing to the leaning bronco. it was immediately evident to him that photos simply didn’t do her justice, the sight of her alone unexpectedly making his stomach do a flip, taking him by surprise.

“ah, that sucks,” rafe forcefully sympathized, “y’got a spare, right? i could change it for you.” her face lit up at the proposition, and she quickly mutter a few words into the phone before hanging up and shoving it in her pocket, quickly standing and dusting off the back of her denim shorts.

“would you really?” she beamed, her hopeful eyes glistening as she gazed at him. rafe nodded, his blue ones scanning over her face as he felt a weird stitch of something in his chest. “yeah, it’s no problem — i’ve got some tools in my truck,” he assured, motioning behind him.

“thank you so much,” she breathed out in relief, abruptly holding out a small, manicured hand in his direction, “i’m y/n.” rafe was taken aback by the sudden gesture, reluctantly encasing her palm with his own — her’s was soft, undoubtably the softest he’s ever felt.

“rafe…” he reciprocated before remembering the entire purpose of this interaction, “cameron — rafe cameron.” her brows furrowed, the name tumbling through her mind before realizing it was rather familiar.

“like, cameron development?” she wondered aloud, her hand still absentmindedly resting in his, though rafe was all too aware of it. “uh—yeah, yeah, m’ward cameron’s son,” he muttered, feeling almost awkward at the prolonged contact.

“no way! i’m grant mason’s daughter — our dad’s are friends!” she gasped, and rafe almost scoffed bitterly at the loose, frankly false, title — friends? sure.

“really? small island,” rafe forcibly laughed, internally puking at the sound of his own voice and the cliches he was spewing, and y/n replied with a sweet, “yeah!”

“hey, so, i’mma go get some stuff from my truck so we can get you back on the road, yeah?” he offered, pulling his hand from hers and pointing a thumb behind him. “yeah, okay, thank you again,” she called out as he spun on his heels before briskly crossing the road.

“yo, you trynna hit that or what? what’s with all that chummy shit?” barry snickered as rafe approached the truck, having overheard the entire conversation. “shut up,” rafe groaned, completely unamused as he reached into the bed, fishing around before retrieving a rusty jack and lug wrench in either hand.

“can’t lie, she kinda fine,” barry projected, ensuring rafe could hear him from outside. “she can probably hear you,” the taller man muttered in annoyance. “shit, let her,” barry exclaimed carelessly, “if you don’t tap that, i will.”

“look, can you just—just chill out for like ten minutes? i’m changin’ her fuckin’ tire then we’re goin’, alright?” rafe snapped in agitation, now standing by the car door and of course, the other man only found it comical. “alright — whatever you say, babyboy,” barry mused, feigning surrender with a sly grin before rafe trudged his way back across the road.

“hi,” y/n grinned, her arms crossed lightly over her chest as she ceased absentmindedly twisting her shoe in the dirt. “hey,” rafe reciprocated, tossing the jack onto the concrete with a loud clank, “i’ll get the tire.” y/n nodded, watching as he took the wrench to the back of the car and began twisting at the lugnuts before casually joining him there.

“so, how long have you guys lived here?” she questioned sweetly as she leaned against the bumper, attempting to make conversation as if he wasn’t preoccupied. rafe peered down at her out the corner of his eye, a twinge of annoyance sparking in his chest that was somehow extinguished when he noticed the small smile on her lips as she gazed at him expectantly.

“uh, m’whole life,” he grunted as he twisted at a rather difficult fastener, “you? never seen you ’round before.”

“i’ve only been here a a couple months, actually — we move alot for dad’s work so we’re never really in once place for long,” she explained, distant sadness evident in her tone. “yeah? you likin’ it so far?” rafe asked as he pulled the tire down with ease, finding himself to actually be somewhat interested in the answer.

“uhm—yeah, yeah, it’s nice. i mean, m’always going back home to visit and haven’t been anywhere on the island besides the elementary school,” she explained. “s’that where you were headed?” rafe wondered as he rolled the heavy wheel towards the front of the car, y/n following close behind.

“yeah, i was going to get my sister before the tire busted — was calling the school to let them know i’d be, like, really late,” she sighed. “your dad couldn’t get her?” rafe questioned, admittedly asking a question that may have been a little intrusive. "i— uh, no,” she laughed awkwardly, tucking a loose strand behind her ear as he began to crank the jack, “he’s always so busy.”

“and your mom?” rafe breathed out as he stood to his feet, dusting his hands on his pants before wiping the sweat from his forehead. y/n couldn’t help but shamelessly ogle at his biceps as they flexed with each movement, her eyes flickering up and down the length of his tanned arms in awe.

“she’s— uh, she’s pretty busy, too,” y/n shrugged, her small smile faltering — this piqued rafe’s interest. “yeah? what does she do?” he asked casually, playing off his prying as casual conversation as he began to remove the damaged wheel from the car.

“she used to be an accountant,” y/n murmured, staring off into space down the road, watching as a car drove by. “used to?” rafe chimed in, rolling the busted tire into the grass before beginning to mount the new one.

“yeah, before my sister was born,” she affirmed.

“what’s she doin’ now?”

“she’s retired,” y/n muttered, causing rafe to furrow his brows to himself — retired mother who’s somehow too busy to pick her kid up from school?

“she-uh… she drinks sometimes,” y/n answered quickly, having noticed the expression on his face, “she’s usually too hungover in the mornings to drive… and afternoons.”

hardly a moment passed as rafe was processing her words while simultaneously fastening on lug-nuts before she spoke up again. “i— i’m sorry,” she laughed nervously, squeezing her eyes shut as she mentally kicked herself, “i’m absolutely oversharing.”

“no,” rafe promised casually with a shrug, fastening the last bolt in it’s place, “i asked.” it was a simple statement, though it sent a wave of warmth throughout her chest, the simplicity of reassurance being comforting and seldom.

“what about you?” she asked as he began to lower the car back to the ground, the new tire now in place. “what about me?” rafe rebutted, standing to his feet once more with a huff, the beaming sun beginning to take a toll.

“i— i just mean… what’s your family like?”

“uhh, well, my dad runs a business, and-uh, got a step-mom ‘n two sisters,” rafe explained, though he was never fond of talking about himself or his family.

suddenly, a loud honk sounded out from across the street, causing them both to turn their heads towards the source. “aye, country club, let’s go!” barry called out, rafe’s good deed of the year being noticeably completed and his patience having worn thin.

“whose that?” y/n wondered, a small smile pulling at her lips when rafe sighed in annoyance and ran a hand down his face. “he’s my-uh… friend,” rafe answered, though truthfully, he’s wasn’t sure he’d call him that.

“i think your friend is ready to leave,” she laughed lightly, rafe nodding in agreement as his eyes then found their way to hers, suddenly finding themselves stuck there. she didn’t notice until then just how blue his eyes were, nor did he notice how big and doe-like her’s were. seconds passed that felt like minutes, neither of them in any position to break the eye contact for a reason they couldn’t explain.

inevitably, the horn was honked again and jolted them both from the stalemate, causing rafe to cough before scratching his neck. “uh, so, i’m gonna get going,” he announced, grabbing his tools from their places on the curb, “tire’s all good ‘n i can get rid of the old one if y’want.”

“thank you, rafe — seriously, it means so much,” y/n sighed out, eyes glistening with gratitude and rafe’s stomach did that same, stupid little flip as before when she said his name and he wanted it to fucking stop.

“yeah, no worries,” rafe grinned, though he tried to hide it, actually feeling somewhat good about himself, “you should-uh… probably head out, too, yeah?”

“shit, yeah,” y/n swore, quickly pulling her phone from her pocket and checking the time, “hey, so-uh, my dad’s having a little business dinner type-thing next weekend — food ‘n music and all that if you, maybe, wanted to come?”

rafe froze at the mention as he recalled a conversation with his father from not too long ago. they had spoke about that very event, rafe wanting to accompany his father in order to learn more about the mason’s business, though his wish was denied due to ward only being allowed to bring one guest — his choice being his wife, rose.

“i’m— i’m sorry, you don’t have to, i just figured as like a ‘thank you’ i’d—,” y/n rambled, feeling as though rafe’s lack of response and blank stare was an answer within itself, but he quickly interrupted.

“nah, nah, i’ll—,” he paused, blue eyes flickering across her now hopeful face, his heart doing a little skip at the sight, “yeah, i’ll be there.”

“awesome, yeah, here — put your number in, i’ll text you the details,” she smiled, handing her phone over to who rafe dropped his tools to the ground before accepting it. their hands grazed one another for a moment, somehow feeling different from the first time they touched.

he obliged, quickly typing in the digits and saving the contact before handing it back. “cool, so, i’ll see you then?” she smiled, watching at rafe gathered the tools from the ground once more. “yeah,” rafe nodded, quickly swiping his tongue over his lips before a soft smirk overtook them, “unless i find you on the curb with another flat before then.”

“with my luck,” she laughed, and rafe couldn’t help but let out a soft, genuine, chuckle. “thank you again,” she continued, her tone sincere, and rafe could tell just how genuine it was, giving her a small nod in return, “i’ll see you.”

and with that, she climbed her way into the ridiculously large car, giving rafe one last glance with a smile before disappearing down the corner and around the bend. rafe finished loading everything back into the truck, including the flat wheel that he planned on abandoning in some unfortunate pogues yard, before rejoining barry inside.

“the fuck’re you so happy about?” barry mumbled, loathing the fact that after waiting in a hot truck for ages, rafe comes waltzing in with a grin.

“told’ya i know what i’m doin’.”

 personapeters 2025 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[marzipanandminutiae]

propaganda: yes. the Mona Lisa is an image. the image can be captured accurately in a photograph. so she has seen the Mona Lisa; she just has not seen the Mona Lisa in person

Jane Doe has seen a digital image of the Mona Lisa but not the physical painting.

[claraswritings]

Carved with Love

Pairing: Gally x reader

Warning: nothing much, bit of kissing at the end, friends to lovers, it’s short.

Note: This was inspired by the Gally mood board and blurb by @elioas-diel which gave me an idea of a blurb where Gally makes things for the reader and they realise they like each other 🥰

****

The first time Gally made something for you, it had been small, a fix for something that had been bothering you.

You’d made a brief comment that one of the tables in the serving station for food was wonky. Gally had been one table over, sitting with the builders, not really listening to them. He’d been entirely focused on you.

“Why’s Gally staring” you commented to Frypan at the time.

“That’s just Gally.” Your friend and fellow cook had told you. “He stares a lot to try work people out, either that or maybe he wants you to join the builders”

You snorted “Yeah right”

The idea of you joining the builders, usually tall and muscular, had you both laughing and you’d quickly forgotten about the wonky table comment.

The next day, Gally had turned up with an oddly cut small cube and told you “It’s nothing it’s just an off-cut that fit,” he shrugged lifting the table with ease and slotting it under fixing the wonky table in seconds.

A few weeks later it was a shelf for your ingredients in the cooks hut lowered to your height

‘Saves Clint and Jeff the hassle if you fall off that damn stool you stand on again’ Gally had been quick to explain when you’d thanked him again, saying it was perfect. He’d walked off quickly not wanting you to see the blush that was rising up his neck.

****

“I think we’ve discovered Gally’s soft spot” Frypan commented as he spun a spice rack Gally had dropped off earlier. He turned and looked pointedly at you.

“Me?” You pulled a face and pointed at yourself completely incredulous at your friend’s statement. “Why would Gally have a soft spot for me?”

“I dunno but he’s always doing stuff for you.” He added “Never seen him anywhere near here before you arrived but now he’s always hanging around, putting up shelves or building stuff and talking to you.”

“He’s a builder that’s what he does.” You insisted back

“…I don’t think Gally even knew what a spice rack was until he started looking for stuff to make… for you.”

“Come on Fry, he’s just being…nice.”

“Since when did Gally do nice? Remember whatever that little thing was he dropped off two weeks ago”

“The little flower? I was unwell! He was trying to make me feel better” you flushed. It was a little carved sunflower and truth be hold you’d loved it. You’d kept it with you and Frypan had only found out when you’d emptied your pouch looking for something.

“Hang on…what?” Newt who was standing nearby was now interested coming over to join in your conversation. “Gally gave you a little flower?”

“Yeah, a little wooden sunflower.” Frypan said looking pointedly at you “her favourite flower.”

“Gally? Gally of all people…whittled you a little flower?” Minho had over heard your conversation and joined in. The idea of the stubborn, hot-headed keeper of the builders, all broad shoulders and grumpy, making you a wooden flower amused your fellow Gladers.“I think he’s sweet on you” he said and you rolled your eyes

“Shut up, Minho” you playfully pushed him. “He’s just being nice.”

“I don’t see him making a little flower for Zart when he was unwell.” Newt added “also it’s Gally. He does grumpy, stubborn and hot headed. He doesn’t really do nice…”

“Is he your type then?” Minho teased “Do you like them tall and…” he thought of a way to describe their fellow Glader in a neutral way and opted for “brooding” causing Newt and Frypan to laugh.

“Shut up.” You stressed again, ignoring the creeping thoughts in your head.

It would carry on like this. A little heart shaped box (he’d insisted to Newt that it was only shaped like that because ‘girls like that sort of thing’), a vase, and a storage box until it came to his most ambitious project yet.

It was a rocking chair. You’d always liked to sit and watch when it rained in the Glade. It was a quirk Gally had noticed about you and found it weirdly endearing.

When he’d asked why you were sitting on the ground one time, you’d told him you found it relaxing.

“I like watching the rain” you’d said from your dry shelter. “It’s relaxing.”

Gally had been a little unconvinced but when you’d patted the ground next to you, he’d been unable to stop the little flip his stomach did and had tried not to look too eager when he dropped down next to you.

He’d spent two hours just sitting with you and talking and you’d been right. The rain was relaxing…and it had given him the idea.

****

Within the week he’d made you a little rocking chair. It was beautiful. Carved out of wood and polished perfectly, he’d cut out a pattern looping up the arms and along the side of the

“Thank you” you gasped and before you could stop yourself you launched into his arms. He’d caught you on instinct and held on to him tightly. Without thinking, Gally put his arms around you and squeezed, hugging you tightly.

When you pulled back just looked at you a little dazed

“Oh shit… sorry…” you started to apologise and stopped when you realised, one: he wasn’t yelling and two: he’d hugged you back.

“Uh…do that again?” He cleared his throat.

You smirked “you want me to hug you again.”

“Yeah I mean, if you want. It was nice” he tried to brush it off but the blush creeping up his neck gave away his real feelings. He loved it when you complimented his work, it meant more from you and now that you’d hugged him, he felt like he was floating but still didn’t want to push his luck or give away too much.

You moved closer to him, filled with a little more confidence and wrapped your arms around him. Gally pressed you close to him, holding you tight against his chest with one arm as his other hand worked its way into your hair.

As you looked at him, his eyes met yours and said all you needed it to. You pressed on tiptoes, his smile, the one that you’d realised he only ever had around you, giving you the last push of courage you needed.

You pressed your lips to his cheek and before you could pull back he turned his head, catching your lips with his. The kiss started gentle and sweet until he started tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

Gally scooped you up in one, sitting himself on the chair and placing you in his lap. He broke away only to brush your hair back off your face and pull you in to a more passionate, open mouth second kiss.

“That’s one way to thank me sweetheart” he smirked, although you could see in his eyes, he was only teasing, his tone was soft. “If that’s how you thank me, I think you owe me a few more kisses”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Do I now?” You teased back, your hand tracing his jaw “think you’ve got time now?”

“For you sweetheart? I’ve got all the time in the world” he said moments before he pulled you into another kiss

[just-some-random-blogger]

Of Blood & Beasts | 1

Part 2

"So—" A gasp leaves your lips. "—I've finally found you."

Gwayne Hightower x Baratheon!OC x Daemon Targaryen | 5k+ | cw: canon divergence, forced/arranged marriage, Beauty and the Beast AU, fluff, angst, etc.

A/N: IM DOING AN OCCCCC!!!!! this is came out wayyy longer than i wanted it to for a p1 T_T anyway idk what the carbon date on anyone is so just pretend everyone's age follows daemon and gwayne who are in their early 20s even tho thats OLD for them ok? ok | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat <3 hi im tagging u again HIHI & @helaenalyst it took me so long to post this i hope youre still interested T_T

You hook the carriage curtain to the side and push the window open. Floral air fill your lungs as you breathe in. You smile. You wouldn't mind living here, even if it was at the opposite edge to Storm's End.

A gust of wind blows your untied curls into your face. A squeak passes through your lips when a particularly sharp bump jostles the carriage.

It abruptly awakens the man sat across from you. You look and immediately tense at his groggy expression. Your brother grits his teeth and immediately screams, "WATCH THE FUCKING ROAD, YOU FUCKING CUNT!"

"Borros."

He bothers not spare you a glance and bangs on the side of the carriage, "I'LL HAVE YOU FUCKING FLOGGED IF YOU WAKE ME AGAIN!"

"It's hardly his fault the road is rocky."

A faint word of apology is heard from outside.

Borros turns to you, dark brows furrowed, "you're right," he quips, "it's the damned builders of this prissy city."

You merely avert your gaze outside the window again to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Smells like grandmother here," he rubs his nose, "I bet you like that, don'ch—"

"I do, in fact," you turn to him with a look of contempt.

"Well," he leans back and raises his palms, " 'nough said then. Why don't you show the lord you bosom and let him take you—"

"You are a bumbling boar, Borros," you snap.

He chuckles dryly, now fully awake, "at least I'm not Sisi the cursed doe."

You bristle as he grins and nonchalantly scratches his dark beard.

He slumps in his spot, crossing his arms through a groan, "wake me up when we get to the bloody place."

You kick his shin.

He yelps and stiffens.

Just then the carriage stops and you quickly open the door, "we're here, brother."

You are helped down by a servant and your lips part as you lift gaze upon the stony fortress that was High Tower.

Borros comes to your side, one eye narrowing at the sight, "alas, you exchange one prison for another, sister."

You watch him walk towards the gates and you grip your skirts as you follow after him, "it is not prison if I am free of you."

Your brother laughs, and only slows to do it to your face, "you will find that I am the kindest liege lord you've ever had once I'm gone."

You stare at him, unimpressed by his self-reverence.

You near the three men waiting for you at the gate. The one in the middle speaks, "we welcome you Baratheons to the High Tower. I am Hobert Hightower, Lord of Oldtown," the man says before turning to his left, "this is my son, Ormund Hightower—"

"My lord," Ormund nods to Borros then reaches a hand to you, "my lady."

You let him kiss your hand as you half-curtsy.

"—and my younger brother's son, Gwayne Hightower."

"Enchanted," Gwayne says with a bow, taking your hand next.

You forget to curtsy for him when he kisses your hand.

He smiles as he pulls away, greeting your brother next, "my lord."

Borros nods simply, "Borros Baratheon, and my sister, Isobel Baratheon."

"Warm greetings, my lords," you smile, clutching your hands in front of you.

"I trust that your travels were smooth?" asks Lord Hobert.

"No," Borros blurts the instant, "the roads where unimaginably coarse and bumpy."

You clench your jaw, though your smile grows wider.

"Ah," the old man nods, "I see.... that sounds most unpleasant."

Borros doesn't care to continue the small talk.

A beat of silence passes and you speak before it becomes uncomfortable, "the roads were scenic, however . I noticed a herd of deer on the way."

"Is the lady interested in hunting?" the red hair man asks.

The azure in his eyes imprison your gaze. You respond to his question with a shake of your head, "I am most averted by it. Woodland creatures are beautiful and as deserving of a peaceful life as we."

The men before you chuckle.

A gust of wind ruffles his coppery locks as Gwayne tilts his head, "you've a gentle heart."

"Leave it to a woman to weep for a beast's death yet wear it's leather and feast on its flesh," Ormund says.

You raise your brows, "leave it to men who know nothing of giving life to find it fickle," you appraise his attire, "I doubt it occurs to you I don silk and wool, not leather," you shrug, "and some have no taste for meat."

"Some meaning you?" he lifts his nose, "pray, what does the lady eat if not venison or beef?"

"Grass," Borros snaps.

You Baratheons turn to each other, simultaneously looking away with an eye roll. You look back at Ormund, "my diet is not something you need concern yourself with..." you raise your brows, "unless you marry me."

Borros huffs louder than he ought to, "yes, shall we talk of weddings," he motions, "after breaking fast?"

Hobert nods, "this way then."

As always, Borros insists upon leading, though it was his first time setting foot upon this place. Hobert and Ormund come to his side, itching to impress your belligerent brother.

"You are a finicky eater then, my lady?"

You turn to your right, finding a faint dimpled smile upon Gwayne.

Normally, such a question asked in such a manner made you sharp and impatient like your brother. Yet, though his eyes held a mischievous glint, it was not the usual vexing sort, and he seemed somehow genuine in his inquiry.

"Not at all. You'll find I have a healthy appetite and a love for food."

He hums, bringing his hands behind him, "so it is just woodland creatures you do not wish to consume?"

"I do not mind fowl, or-" you shake your head, "-even hare... I am most partial to fish however."

His brow quirks, "so not red meat?"

You purse your lips and shake your head, "no."

He hums and nods slowly. A few steps later, he motions, "I beginning to sense you are about to explain why."

Your nostrils flare in amusement.

Gwayne smirks softly.

You purse your lips and shake your head, "memory."

He watches your stray curls brush against your cheek amidst a gust of wind. When you do not continue your explanation, he tries to think of one himself. What he thinks of makes his jaw slack, "your late father was a proud hunter."

You watch his brows furrow.

"I do not mean to open a sore wound."

You do not respond.

"My deepest condolences."

You shake your head, "he's been dead for two years."

"And mine mother far longer," he mimics your head shake, "grief is not something easily overcome."

You hold his solemn expression, "my deepest condolences."

He softly smile, "you've a gentle heart."

The sound of Borros scarfing down food perturbs the unwitting Hightowers so badly, barely any words were exchanged during the meal. Each moment one of the men tried to bring something up, your brother would slurp or crunch so loudly, the echo would cut them off.

You were numb to his manner, having known it all your life, thus why you felt no need to react on behalf of Borros.

Ormund, who was sat across your brother, looked amazed by the speed in which he consumed food. Gwayne, who was across you, looked beyond disturbed. Hobert, at the head of the table, was trying his hardest to appear as though he didn't care.

Gwayne expression gives himself away, and when he catches the curling of his lips, he looks at you; you, who was so unbothered by Borros and seemingly bored. He clears his throat, "Is the mushroom soup—"

Borros gulps wine, red trickling the corner of his mouth into his beard.

"—to your taste, my lady?" he speaks a tad louder to drown out your brother's feasting.

You lift your gaze as you take a spoonful of the said soup. You lick your lips and smile, "tis far more flavorful than that of the soups in Storm's End."

"It is?" Gwayne raises his brows.

You nod, "I don't think—"

"It's extraordinary how much food you can fit one's mouth," Ormund blurts, loudly yet absentmindedly, eyes narrowed in fascination upon your brother.

Borros does not seem to even hear him. He merely stuffs his face and washes it down with wine... and more wine. You take notice and elbow him. He blatantly ignores you.

Lord Hobert clears his throat when he catches his son staring at their guest; the latter does not realize it was for him.

"I am surprised you do not eat the same way, Lady Isobel," Ormund asks, "does the soup not suit you?"

You look at him.

He stabs a cut of meat from his own plate and raises it, "perhaps it is only in the preparation," Ormund stands and places the meat in a plate in front of you, "you should try it."

Borros stops chewing, eyes falling upon Ormund as he sits back down.

You look at it— venison, pinkish it still was around the edges. You clench your teeth and turn to your brother.

He stares at you, waiting to see what you would do. You could see he was now slightly swaying with how much he's had to drink in such short time.

Gwayne notices your gulp and how your lips begins to quiver. You move the plate towards your brother.

"She has no taste for venison," announces Borros, turning to the plate, "and now, neither do I."

Ormund opens his mouth but says nothing because you soon stand. As is customary, the men rise with you.

You wipe your lips with a napkin and pull a smile, "thank you for the scrumptious meal. I should like to freshen up now."

Gwayne bows as you walk off, while Ormund stammers through a nod, "my lady. If I have offended y-"

"If?" Borros snaps, then takes a final swig of wine, "if you have offended, I demand satisfaction."

Ormund tenses. Gwayne's eyes flicker to you.

"Did thee..." he burps, "lord offend thine sister?" Borros slurs slightly.

You ignore him.

"ISOBEL!"

You stop in your tracks and roll your eyes. Your smile is pinched as you turn back, "no more than you have, brother dear."

Borros slams his fist upon the table, "tis decided then. Let us be done with this bother," he raises his cup, "and meet blades. If thou defeats thee," he motions to himself, "your victory shall be my sister's hand."

Your face contorts, "you are drunk."

"Yet I be a no less formidable opponent," Borros raises a brow, "what say you?"

Ormund's mouth falls open. He remains in a state of shock for a moment, then finds himself stuttering, "I- I accept."

You sigh deeply.

"Good," your brother walks over to you, "come, girl."

He grabs your arm and both walk out the room. You whimper at his hold as he drags you quickly out with him.

"What are you doing?" you quip at him.

"Hastening our already drawn out journey. I will not waste my time on a fucking fool."

You sigh and shake your head rapidly, "Ormund cannot defeat you!"

"F'course not," he releases your arm, "I do not want to have an idiot as a good-brother, though I see you'd prefer one as a husband."

"We have traveled for days on end! I am as weary as you are. Oldtown is vast and strong. I could easily-"

"Silence," he snaps, eyeing you, "tis my duty as lord to forge strong alliances, but I will not allow by good-brother to be a daft lickspittle."

"And should I be grateful my brother decides my husband based on what he wishes for in a good-brother?"

"You should," he raises his brows and you both stop in your tracks, "you should bow and kiss my ring, in fact, for a man less honorable than I would not even put him to the test to gain power."

You stare at him then his hand when he raises it. You take it it with a tight hold and bow exaggeratedly low, "for both our sakes then," you kiss his ring, "may whomever you face after Ormund Hightower finally strike you down."

Your words make stoke your brother's temper.

Tis the reason why Ormund's life flashes before his eyes as many times as it does during their duel. Hobert Hightower stands beside you, watching rigidly as his heir and only son is brutalized by the large Baratheon man. Were it not for the steel plates on his body, Ormund would have been sliced up already.

Ormund yelps as he evades a particularly heavy blow. His heart is in his mouth as Borros chuckles out, "come now, take it like a man."

Ormund is promptly slashed on the shoulder plate. He kicks Borros away and catches his breath. Little did he know, your brother was holding back, just to make the match longer.

"I do not mean to repeat my cousin's mistake," a soft voice emerges from behind you amidst the grunting and clanking, "of offending you, that is."

You turn, watching Gwayne come to your side, hands behind his back, eyes fixed upon the violence before you.

"Would I offend you if I took a turn after him?" he slowly looks at you.

Your brows raise.

"I am not to inherit the High Tower, but my father does sit beside the King as his Hand," he tilts his head.

Hobert, on your other side, cannot contain his gasp when an rather brutal slash nearly bites through Ormund's armor.

You spare a glance at Lord Hobert before turning back to Lord Gwayne, "I would not mind a marriage to the son of the second born son..." The truth was, it would be better that you are not to be the Lady of the High Tower, as then, you will inherit less responsibilities, less worries, and your cursed form with not flare. You shrug, "...if you do not mind that I am second born."

Gwayne chuckle, "I do not," he looks forward, "I bear no affections for the first born of your family."

"Affections?" you raise a brow, "you mean to say you have affections for me."

"Yes," he looks back at you.

"How?" you face him, "we've just met. You do not know me."

Gwayne's eyes fall to you lips. His jaw feathers and his dimples deepen, "yet the look in your eyes compel me with a desire to know you for the rest of my life."

Your jaw slacks at his words. You feel hotness rise up your neck and ears.

You both tear your gaze away from each other when a a scream rips through the air, followed by a crash. Borros had kicked Ormund to the ground, causing his helm to shoot off in consequence. The raven haired man points his blade to his opponents neck, "do you yield?"

"I yield!" he huffs, raising his hands in surrender.

You all look upon Ormund, frowning in sympathy at the state of him.

Borros removes his helmet and turns to Hobert, "it seems your son shall not be my brother after all."

Hobert claps his hands together, "it would appear so."

"Perhaps I might."

You turn to Gwayne.

Borros catches his breath and watches him walk forward. Ormund struggles to his feet walks off.

"Would you grant me the honor of a match for Lady Isobel's hand?"

Your brother turns to you. You merely stare back at him.

"Verily," Borros sighs.

Gwayne examines him, his armor, his huffing and puffing, "well met," he nods, "I shall go don my armor-"

"No," Borros blurts, "do not delay," he sheathes his sword, "I shall meet your attire instead."

Your lips part and you begin to fidget your hands.

Gwayne watches Borros undo his cuffs. Borros watches Gwayne's expression, "unless thou badly fears the cut of a blade."

You knew his game, "Borros."

Borros turns to you, but ignores your look, "come help me out of this steel."

"Ser Gwayne ought to don hi-"

"No," Gwayne turns to you, "I do not mind an armorless fight," he smiles and nods, wording carefully, "thy brother seems hard-pressed to taste another victory."

You clench your teeth.

Borros chuckles, his lips lopsided and his jaw relaxed. He turns from him to you, "Isobel!"

You walk over to him and help him out of his armor. As you undo his shoulder plate, you steal a glance at Gwayne, trepidation spreading across your features as you could practically feel your brother quivering in blood lust.

Strangely, Gwayne smiles at you, as if to reassure you. It does not, for you know how strong-willed and prideful your brother is.

Once Borros was armor-free and his steel off to the side along with you, Lord Hobert, and Lord Ormund, he takes his sword and immediately begans to taunt Gwayne with stomps and slashes. Like the angry bull he was, he relentlessly alternates between rallies and charges, and soon Gwayne is pushed back against the wall.

Swords clashing and grunts are all you could hear for a long while.

"Dear Gods," Ormund mutters, turning to his father, "the Lord Hand will not take kindly to his only heir dying."

"Hush, boy," Hobert quips, "he will not kill him."

"No," Ormund looks back at the swordfight, "just turn him into minced pie."

Borros lands a blow upon Gwayne's thigh, and Gwayne lands a cut upon his arm. Gwayne is cut far deeper than his opponent, but it is Borros who groans, injured mostly in pride. Instead of pulling away, the pain dictates that he presses forward, and so he does, much to his detriment.

‎It happens in an instant.

Expecting it, counting on it, Gwayne parries and maneuvers out the way.

Borros, to make up for the dodge, twists and hacks at him but Gwayne pulls away far enough that it doesn't land. As he does, the latter lands another stroke upon his arm, deep enough that it cuts his sleeve but only to graze his skin. ‎

Taken back by the injury, Borros tries to slash his foe, but regretfully, Gwayne knew it was coming and spins away, taking the opportunity to bring him to his knees with kick him from behind. ‎Borros crashes to the ground, but before he can get up, a blade is to his neck.

‎"You fucking—" ‎

"Good-brother," Gwayne huffs. ‎

Borros clenches his jaw and flares his nostrils. ‎

"I believe that is what you wish to call me, Lord Borros," he pulls his blade away to bow at the felled fellow. ‎

Borros grits his teeth as Gwayne sheathes his sword, turning to the trickling blood on his thigh. He has half the mind to slash and lunge at him, especially after his opponent hands him an amicable hand.

‎His pride requires that he swat Gwayne's hand away, and his bruised ego makes him stand and march to you with furrowed brows. He snarls "your prayers are answered so swiftly." ‎

His words do not register. You turn to his arm, "you're bleeding, brother." ‎

Borros turns to your line of sight, seeing smeared red on his tunic. His body's exaggerated reaction wears his patience thinner, especially as it was confirmation of Gwayne's adept swordsmanship. The ginger fuck restrained himself, so not to gravely wound him. His nostrils flare as he turns to Lord Ormund, "let the honor of my house not be questioned. Where your son failed," his jaw feathers, "your nephew prevailed." ‎

Gwayne is suddenly beside you.

You lock eyes and it is then that you understand what Borros said about answered prayers— Gwayne bested your brother. ‎

"Our father has long set aside coin for her wedding, and Isobel is more than capable of planning it herself," Borros shakes his head, "I leave her under the care of your house, for Storm's End suffers without a Baratheon and we've been looking for a suitable groom for many moons now." ‎

You turn to Gwayne's injury, gulping at the sight of blood that has now dripped onto the floor.

‎"Of course," Ormund nods, "rest assured we shall treat her like our own."

‎"Perhaps we may be wed in King's Landing," Gwayne offers, turning to you.

Your brows raise.

"I ought to tell my father his only son is to be wed in person," he reaches a hand, "and I ought to bring you with me, that we may marry there."

You turn to his palm, "King's Landing?"

You do not like the idea one bit.

"Will we stay there?" you slowly lift your gaze, finding Gwayne has already caught your reluctance. You shake your head, "I've been before... I have no taste for it."

Gwayne chuckles, thoroughly amused by your frankness. He shakes his head, "I would not keep you there. We shall go, only that my father and sister may witness my marriage."

"You have a sister?" your brow quirks.

"Alicent," he smiles, "you would like her."

"Tis decided then," Borros blurts, raising a hand, "send a raven when the day is near." He slaps a hand on Gwayne's shoulder, an excessively hard one at that, "I am loath to admit defeat..." he turns to you, jaw feathering, "but—" he sigh, "at least this bother is over, and you who bested me... is a swordsman."

You lower your head, as not to laugh at his painful attempt at a compliment. You sniffle for effect, "shall I help you with your injury?"

"No," Borros snaps and walks off, "help your promised."

You and Gwayne turn to each other. Your eye widens when you see his hand pressed on his thigh, covered in blood.

Before he knows it, Gwayne is dragged to a maester and his thigh his wrapped. He doesn't remember that part at all though, as he is so deeply preoccupied with you wiping his hand with a towel.

He lies in his bed as you wipe the dried blood off his palm. The faint line between your brows and the focus on your eyes are just as captivating as your scent— deep and sweet.

When you finish, you ask for another towel from one of the present servants. Once in hand, you begin to wipe Gwayne's face. He hums contentedly. The low sound makes your stomach roll, but you ignore it.

He is most appreciative of your pampering and shamelessly leans into your touch. A thought occurs to him. He mutters, "have you treated all the men your brother's dueled this?"

"Do you assume all our visits have ended in duels?"

"I assume your brother prefers it."

Your nostrils flare faintly.

Gwayne smiles softly, knocking his nose into your wrist, "I'd like to know."

You pull your hand back, looking at his petulant look. Your lips curve in amusement as you gently brush his temple, "only the ones that have won."

Gwayne chuckles in boyish glee, "huzzah."

You finish wiping his face and pull away.

"Might I kiss you, Lady Isobel?"

You freeze, eyes widening a fraction.

Gwayne delights in the pinkishness that rises up your neck. He tilts his head, "we are to be married, after all."

"Then marry me," you chuck the towel to his face, "and I'll kiss you, ser."

Gwayne chuckles as he sits up, watching you head for the door. He is about to stand and chase after you, but you strangely do not exit and instead ask the servants to leave the room. He gulps when he catches your expression; determination is upon your face.

One by one the servants trickle out, and once it's but you and him, you march over and motion with your head, "rise."

He is quick to his feet.

Your stomach drops as he presses close, close enough that your chests nearly meet. Taking it as a challenge, you do not pull back, instead you push him away.

Gwayne's heart races when you press your hand upon his chest.

"There is something you much know."

"Speak it," he responds eagerly.

Your throat tightens and you lower your gaze. You draw a deep breath and gather your courage to tell him what was clawing your inside, "when my fath- ther—"

Gwayne lowers his head, brows furrowing. He gently encourages, "when your father..."

You draw a deep breath, "when my father died..."

He watches you fidget. He wonders if it would do you good if he took your hand or would it inspire only further fidgeting.

"I was the one who found him in the forest," you lift your gaze, throat now uncomfortably tight.

His brows furrow at the glassiness of your eyes. He nods slowly in encouragement.

"I..." your voice shakes, "I..." you chuckle, though unamused, "have not been the same since, a- and-"

Gwayne hears the way your breath hitches. He slowly takes your hand and squeezes it.

You squeeze him back. You can't say it.

You tremble in his hold and it summons protectiveness in Gwayne.

"I merely-" you try to pull away.

He notices and loosens his hold, but does not let you go.

You defeatedly lower your head and evade what you truly wanted to say, "I like sneaking off into the woods."

Gwayne's brows furrow further. He rubs your skin with his thumb.

"If in King's Landing I go missing," you lift your gaze, "then you should know to look for me in the thickets."

The confession perplexes him.

Yes, leaving without word is not something he'd enjoy from his bride, and yet he wonders why such a thing distressed you so. He decides not to press on the matter, as you looked like you were about to break into tears. He offers, "you needn't go missing. I would gladly accompany my lady wherever she need."

You feel sick. You rapidly shake your head, "you must let me leave on my own. Only if I do not return an hour hence... then, you may look for me."

Gwayne's expression twists in confusion.

Trepidation and guilt claw at you, and yet, all the solace you can offer is: "I will explain everything to you, I swear... it's just that- that-"

"Do not fret," he cuts you off, squeezing your hands, "we've only just met," he nods, "I do not expect to know everything about you in one day. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us."

You feel tears rush down your cheek when Gwayne smiles. So as the gods curse, they seem to also bless.

Yet you are cursed.

Your body reminds you of it the moment you arrive in King's Landing with Gwayne. It is a terribly suffocating place and you find yourself worrying so much, you are forced to seek refuge in the forests outside its walls.

Presently, you roam there alone. You feel feverish. You feel morbid.

You rid yourself of your garbs and shoes, feeling your body equally repel and welcome the icy waters of the ravine you chanced upon as your body aches and twists.

Your worry and grief mangles you into this beast, weepy and helpless and melancholy. Your distorted reflection in the water only assures you that all the memories you've tried to trick yourself into believing are nightmares were, in fact, reality. The sight of you pinkish doe eyes only make you weep even more.

If Gwayne saw you like this... if he knew—

Your nostrils flare when you hear a twig snap from behind you. You submerge yourself entirely into the cold water. You cannot be seen. You cannot be seen like this.

The water rushing into your mouth mangles the scream you let out as your body twists in the water as you make an attempt to hide behind the rock where you had placed your clothes.

Someone is here. You bite your lips so hard blood is nearly drawn out.

You thank the gods your hand emerges quickly. You reach for your clothes and quickly try to dress yourself.

"No hurry."

You tense and rush to cover your chest.

"I would have preferred if you kept your clothing off, actually."

You gulp and step back, legs still wobbly from your wretched twisting.

It is strange that it dawns on you that you recognized him from his expression and not his silver hair. Prince Daemon presses nearer and you snatch your robe, draping it around you before he can come any closer. You do not bother with your shoes.

You have a pretty face, Daemon thinks, and prettier lips. He'd love to wipe them dry, only to wet them again with his seed. He smiles akin to how a wolf would at a lamb, "what are you called then?"

You shake your head, "nothing."

He hums, "is that Pentoshi?"

You step back and feel for your pocket in your robe.

A painful silence drags out.

Daemon steps closer, "a jest."

You find your pocket, thereby finding your dagger.

"Do they not have humor where you're from?"

You merely step back, refusing to entertain his small talk.

He takes two large strides towards you, causing you to flinch back. He stops to chuckle, "well, speak, girl."

You grit your teeth.

"Do you not have humor where you're from?" he repeats with raised brow.

"Yes," you quip, clutching your robe-pocket, "the amusing kind."

He pulls his head back at your response, taken aback by the snark. The Targaryen laughs, placing a hand on his belly before the tongue of his ancestors, "oh, kesan raqagon ao." Oh, I will enjoy you.

Your jaw tenses, yet you quip again, "I do not understand."

Daemon tilts his head, "you're not meant to."

"I am," your brow furrows, "or else you wouldn't have spoken it."

He chuckles again, "such a wit," he tries to circle around you, "you surely drove your septa mad."

Your tightening throat makes you choke out a lie, "I am no lady, my lord."

He pulls his chin back. He chuckles dryly, "no?"

"I must return," you blurt through a headshake, "I have duties yet to complete."

"Mmm," he raises a hand, abruptly stopping your attempt to walk off. Your heart begins to race at the idea of him laying his hands on you. He tilts his head, "don't you know who I am?"

You gulp and lower your gaze. His question made it clear to you that he knew you were lying. A prince who dealt daily with lickspittles and bootlickers are well-versed in falsehoods. You mumble, "yes."

His nostrils flare in amusement, "what's my name then, girl?

You slowly lift your head, "Rogue Prince."

Daemon laughs, hand coming to his belly once more, "you're clearly know not what a name is."

He takes another step towards you, and you can no longer stay still. Though the chances of you slipping past him were slim, you take it and pray you were lithe enough to evade him.

You bolt.

You barely get past him.

"Wait!" he chuckles and grabs your hand. You gasp, heart thundering in your ears as you turn back to him. He repeats, "wait."

You tighten your robe around you as he inches nearer. Just as he parts his grinning lips to taunt you further, he freezes at the faint sharpness biting at his side. He looks down, finding a blade pressed against his stomach. He tilts his head at you, "you would dare stab a prince?"

"Dare I?" you quip through a shrug, "step forward and we shall see together."

Daemon chuckles. Gods, he wants you.

"My husband will demand satisfaction."

His face falls, "husband?"

"Yes. You and your house will be ruined if you touch me."

He tilts his head, "for taking a pretty servant girl?"

You tense. He notices. It makes his lips curve, "come now. Do not think yourself to be so special. You would not be the first low born to carry the crown's basta-"

"Gwayne Hightower."

His brows furrow.

"My husband is Gwayne Hightower."

The words hit a nerve, and you see it, which is why you manage to rip your hand away from him

He does not try to snatch you again, though contrary to what you think, it is not because you point your dagger at him as you back away. Of all names you could mention, that is what you do. He does not know if you speak in confidence of his hatred for house Cunttower, or because it was the actual truth.

You manage to put a decent amount of distance between the two of you, but you are not stupid enough to believe he will suddenly just let you go. "Turn around."

"What?" he raises his brows.

You are, however, wise enough to know men like him love games. "Turn around and count to ten-" you adjust your hold on your dagger, "that I may run away from you."

His brows push higher, "ten?" Daemon laughs. He laughs loudly, "you think I would not catch you after a ten second head start?"

"N-"

"Or do you assume I would not chase you?"

You grit your teeth.

Daemon's smirk widens.

You shudder out a sigh, "you will not catch me."

He laughs again. He is excited by your confidence. He shifts on his right leg, "and when I do?"

"You will no-"

"But when I do?" he cuts you off.

"If," you snap, poking the air with your weapon, "you do..." you shake your head, "then you shall undoubtedly act out whatever perversion you are thinking of doing to me."

Yet another laugh falls from his lips. Daemon wipes away a tear, "your assuredness astounds me."

You tense when he takes another step forward.

"I have half the mind not to let you run."

"Then you will never know if you could have caught me."

"I wi-"

"You won't," you take your turn cutting him off.

Daemon freezes. Prideful excitement latches onto him. He does love a chase. He looks at you one last time before tilting his head and turning around.

You instantly dash away.

"One—"

The sound of you galloping fills the air.

It's odd it seemingly gets louder, heavier, and impossibly fast, as if you were suddenly on horseback.

"Seven..." he turns, looking out to a vast nothingness with only your shoes as evidence you were ever there. "No," he huffs and picks them up, "she can't have gone far."

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[pepsicolacurtiss]

ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU 🧠

THE CURTIS GANG🫀

Roles!

Ponyboy - Medic

Sodapop - Lookout/Signalman

Darrel - Leader

Dallas - Weapon Manager

Two-Bit - Scout

Johnny - Food Gatherer

Steve - Builder/Engineer

Weapon Arrangement!

Ponyboy - Rifle (His old one from hunting)

Sodapop - Wrench/Hammer or various tools from the DX

Darrel - Baseball Bat + nails

Dallas - Rifle

Two-Bit - Pistol + busted bottles.

Johnny - switchblade/arrow made out of a rock + a stick. (wow so creative)

Steve - Pistol + various tools from the DX

THE SHEPHERD GANG🫁

Roles!

Tim - Leader

Curly - Brawler

Angela - Medic

Extra!

Tulsa, Oklahoma (Still)

330,000/335,000 dead

Their base is a small shack they found near a secluded part of their neighborhood.

The rest of the people are either in really good hiding or left the country because the only people the Curtis gang found alive were the Shepherds.

The Curtis gang and the Shepherd gang combined together for safety and sturdiness.

Idk what else to put. Give me ideas 😿😿

[blackknight-kai]

Sun Wukong Height:

Here’s my PERSONAL take on Monkey King Height for some universes. I was going to wait for the figures for BMW to be released but they take FOREVER. And we were talking about it in my server so here goes!

****GAME SPOILERS BELOW****

(IN FEET.INCHES)

BMW is decently tall - 5.8-5.11 - genuinely appears about average human height in the game.

JTTW Shorter depending 3-4ft ish give or take (I think pretty short though)

Monkey King Reborn - Shortish 5-5.5 he is almost average person height I think here as Master is fairly tall (almost as tall as Wujing) & Comparing Wujing next to a village human then Wujing next to Wukong, Wukong give or take is the same height as a human. Also, Pigsy is just shy of Masters height and Wukong is almost the same height as Pigsy but a liiiittle but shorter. (This was annoying because both Wukong and Pigsy slouch almost the entire movie and there are a LOT of angles and visual trickery with background and foreground stuff. I even tried comparing to doors but it’s inconsistent.)

Nezha Reborn - Tall 5.8-5.11

I think PERSONALLY, he’d be tall in BMW specially. I know in JTTW he’s fairly small - they saw him more as a monkey at the time right? So somewhere between an actual monkey and probably short adult human 3-4ft something? Where as modern times we see him as “anthropomorphic” but human leaning. So it makes sense for us to scale him up and change some features. He is a “demon” after all as well. *Plus I’m bias on the idea that I want him at least human sized - idc if he’s a short king or a tall king necessarily.*

ANYWAY! *see under the cut*

In BMW we see at the beginning Wukong is shorter than Erlang (not as big of a difference during cut scenes though) during the first fight of the game, but in some clips I was watching recently (modded game lol) the Broken Shell of Wukong stands at the same height ish as Erlang. So while I was already fairly certain this was a “design” choice by the devs to make it easier to see the broken shell when you fight him, this confirms it for me too. Broken shell is MUCH taller than DO during the battle.

When in cut scenes during that fight they are the same height, build, etc:

Basically what I was getting at is this, it’s clear bosses are scaled up in the game to make them easier to see as well as make them more intimidating to the player (which I think is pretty universally understood). So in a way, it’s deceptive of actual height. Untrustworthy.

So, let’s factor this instead: Wukong is an anthropomorphic monkey. Let’s say he’s between 5’ and 5’11 give or take to give him some wiggle room.

Erlang, isn’t a regular “human” by any means so him being taller than average makes sense. The other demons? Same thing. Especially creatures that are actually bigger than a monkey - like a tiger. Some other creatures we see SHOULDNT be that big though. For example insect demons. Yet they are when they should be smaller than Wukong if you’re going by “scale up based on a specific average”.

So again, deception. Height doesn’t follow natural normal rules for everyone (magic). Yes sizes can change based on certain lore & magic things and Wukong can adjust his size as to be bigger or smaller.

I don’t think Wukong is super tall or anything by any means though, that’s why I said give or take in the “head canon” estimate earlier. He’s basically a compact power house - think like how ants can lift 10-50 times their body weight. He’s agile and lithe with muscles designed to be swift and quick, he’s a monkey so he’s all energetic. Hes not meant to be a body builder (like some *Tiger 👀*……YES he is strong as fuck - this isn’t about his abilities. *Also I’m not saying any of you dudes that aren’t 6ft aren’t ‘tall’ but I’m 5.5 and “tall” to me is 6ft and up.*

Anyway, I’m getting at that Destined One is a near carbon copy of Wukong and no matter how you SEE the ending of BMW be it DO just gains Wukongs memory or Wukong is made whole again and absorbs DO and takes his memories of his short life/journey for the artifacts - the two Monkeys are the same height.

So Monkey is fairly tall also based on in game things like surroundings etc. Hes not tiny. The game devs have deceived us throughout the game regarding height in several ways since it’s not consistent.

(Funny side note, if you add an inch or two to DO and feel they are separate beings - Wukong being offended by that would kill me with laughter and be hilarious - or if they are the same and Wukong realizes it after he “awakens”)

So basically, imagine him as tall as you want 🤣 I HC as mentioned above give or take for a specific AU I make. No joke depending on what AU I have I make him as tall or short as I need. So no one is wrong, okay?

Last note: this is before figures come out (yes there was the one but idk its actual metrics and while it can help to figure out size it won’t necessarily be an end game as everything surrounding bmw and height is genuinely inconsistent as hell.