#Marble Mountain Wilderness

[valhikes]

Klamath National Forest, California

Marble Mountain Wilderness

Unfortunately, day 4 was the early, unplanned, hike out because the August storms were bearing fruit. A little of it was visible along this route out. As were some firefighting efforts.

[ask-the-pioneer]

"I've always been captivated by them. Something about the shiny exterior, how they glimmer when you tumble them around in your hands. My younger self would obsess about them, a childlike fascination. Even back then I instinctively knew they had value. My mom would use pearls I found to pay for a safe passage at scavenger tolls. We tried to bypass those points as much as we could, but sometimes it was unavoidable."

"It's a looong story…. I was found roaming the wilderness by my mentor, who brought me to er, an entity, called an interator. Do you know of iterators? Apparently they are what was left of an ancient civilization that once inhabited these lands. I couldn't wrap my head around it at first. Iterators are massive, absolutely huge, like mountains. Do you see that big structure of a regular, smooth shape?"

[She points towards Five Pebble's can in the distance]

"That is an iterator's «superstrucute». A mountain, the entire thing… is a person. It still sounds crazy when I say it."

"Ah, right, my name… like I mentioned, I got lost and my mentor found me. He brought me to his iterator. If my memory serves me right, his name is «No Significant Harassment», or NSH for short. I recall thinking at that time, «Harassment? I hope he won't be cruel to me». I had no concept of iterator names, their meaning, why it's three or however many words long. It was incredibly confusing to my young mind, though looking back at it I consider myself very lucky. The iterator was, dare I say, «god-like» (his own words), but benevolent. I saw how well he treated Hunter – my mentor – and it made me trust him more, even though I was scared and wary in the beginning."

"Would you believe it if I told you… there are stories written inside the pearls? That those things I’ve been obsessing about all my life are used for storing information? I had many of them leftover from when I lived at a scavenger outpost. One cycle, NSH noticed my interest, and – I wish Hunter had told me about this sooner, but – the iterator shot at my head with something…? And suddenly I could understand everything he said. Not that he said much, because I started crying loudly and ran straight out of there, haha. But before I bolted, he gave me one of his pearls as consolation. I think he felt bad for the scared little me."

"After that, he would eagerly read all the pearls I brought to him. That is how I learned more about the culture of the peoples who were here before me: the Ancients, their customs, why the iterators were built, and much more. It was like the knowledge of the entire world was suddenly revealed to me – to a seemingly insignificant being, a tiny speck in an endless ocean of life. It both made me feel very important, and very small. And, yeah, it has intensified my obsession with pearls beyond mortal limits. What if I could write into a pearl? I could archive the history of my entire species! All the stories my mom told me when I was small? All the places I’ve been to? Or other scugs have been to…"

[Her eyes widen, sparkling with glee]

"Y-yeah… that would be nice… sadly I am what I am – a slugcat. I don��t know how to do this very advanced stuff at all. I have no means of doing this. I once asked NHS for help, but there’s only so much he could guess from my frantic signing. I don’t think he understood me, in the end. But he did appreciate my efforts, and I was given a title – the Pioneer, like a person who is the very first to explore something uncharted. Apparently no slugcat before me thought of reading from or writing into pearls? I find it a little hard to believe."

"This one! This is a very special kind of pearl – it contains an ancient poem from which my name originated. See, my name was a gift from NSH the iterator. It’s spelled: «Mirmyntasseth». The best way I would describe it, is… it’s a name for a feeling, or an experience. The way it was explained to me, is that the word «Mirmyntasseth» is an expression of seeing a marble roll on a flat surface, then hitting another marble. Ah, right, you may not know this – a marble is like, like a pearl, but translucent and even more ornate. I was told that marbles were used by the Ancients for entertainment. They had a game where you rolled one to hit another. I'll admit, I can see the appeal. Throwing rocks is fun, although I image this game was considered a more dignified pastime."

[She tumbles the dark pearl in her hands, admiring its luster]

"The poem inside this pearl, one of its verses spells: «Eight Marbles Cast in Stone». The poem itself is long… very long… I had the iterator read it to me once, and we had to stop in the middle because the rain was coming. Maybe I will ask NSH to read it again, when I’m back at his superstructure with Hunter."

[Her gaze trails off to somewhere far away for a moment, a subtle grimace on her face. She closes her eyes and shakes off the thoughts that cloud her mind]

"So, um… yes… that is why I am called Eight Marbles Cast in Stone, or Marbles for short. I like how it sounds, it has a nice ring to it. And it’s a gift from an iterator, a god-like being. I consider it a great honor."

"…that said, I wonder why he didn’t just name me «Pearl»? Wouldn’t that make more sense? Maybe it didn’t sound cool enough. They’ve used pearls just to store information. I guess it’d be silly to be named «Dirt» because you doodle in dirt, or «Batfly» because you love eating batflies? Hmm…"

[silkenwinger]

lightning crashes

umm. yellowjackets lite, post plane crash (and post getting shot) johnny soap mactavish x reader.

tw for misogynistic language

part 1. read on ao3

It's a perfect time for hunting.

Ammo has to be counted by the units, the rifles rigidly cleaned until they almost shine their rustled parts. Because the rules are so strict, you’re sure it will be a successful session. A deer, maybe even a moose. The mountains are harsh, but rewarding, if one threads them with care and respect.

-------------------

“Here,” says John, or should you say Johnny, as he brings you a heavy blanket, one of the first you found in that decrepit cabin. It’s been you, him, and ten other people for months now. You were more when the plane fell, in between bodies and steaming metal. The stench of death and fire is still clear on your mind, the aftermath clear as a polaroid picture.

You don’t remember Johnny on the plane. All you can recall from the day before everything ended was the rigid cold of the early morning when you departed and the insipid food that was served for lunch.

“Thank you,” you tell him, and he flashes you a full teeth smile. Still annoyingly white, it is.

You use the blanket to tuck in poor Aurora, another survivor who has gotten sick recently. While she shows signs of improvement and has even started eating something again, you’re worried about her condition. You hope she can recover quickly, else she might lose all strength to keep going. It has happened to two other survivors, but you can’t bear to see it again– a slow death, a complete surrender of the soul. It harms those around, too.

Climbing out of the seat, safety belt still locked in, you thought you were in hell already. You’d made your way out of the plane limping, only to be grabbed by your arms and shaken firmly– the tears had fully started to fall down by then, but at least you realized fully that you were alive. And in company, too.

Back then, it was Johnny– a super fit man whose only injury appeared to be a cut on his forehead and an inability to shut up . But while he kept screaming, hurting your ears, you realized he was trying to find as many living people as possible.

He was military, he told you later, and it was just instinct– sorry about that, lass. You simply nodded, head far removed from the situation. Mind elsewhere, and now as well the memories of the first days are quite foggy. The forest expanded like an ocean in front and behind you, all around, the mountains high in the background. There seemed to be no sign of human life, like an untouched corner of the world. Impossible, as you would discover later.

There were fifteen of you. Mostly men, four women counting you. Everyone tried to use their phones, but it was no use. No reception. The pilots were dead. So many people died. Somehow, the fire had stopped by itself: you don’t remember raining but it might as well have. Johnny and the other men had used some metal parts of the plane to make roofs, where you slept the nights away warmed by fires. Two survivors died from the wounds they suffered during the crash in the first week. You still recalled the coldness of their skin when you tried to wake them, their necks marble hard.

You’d been scared for your life, and panicking, and totally useless. A little information from your childhood, when you looked for mushrooms with your grandpa, was what you could offer. What plants were edible and which were not, but a continent away, in a man regulated environment, millennia of hunting and foraging. Here, in the wilderness, there was another set of rules in place. But you could look for signs of danger, still. And you began looking for food with the others. This, you thought, is my purpose. Gathering food.

One day, Johnny and other men had scrambled back to the crash site and yelled that there was a cabin not too far. Four great walls, a roof on top. Basically a haven. You looked up, down, sides, up and down again. Before you could hear him, Johnny slid next to you, your eyes level with the scar on the side of his head when you turned.

“Nice place, huh? And that’s not all. There’s weapons as well.”

“Really?” you beamed, and he grinned back.

“Huh-uh. Hunting rifles, of course. I bet some old man lived off the land in his last years.”

“It’s, uhm,” you stuttered, looking at the bare bones decor and the old moose head hanging on the fireplace, “a bit spartan.”

“Ha! Spartan, she says,” he laughed and you felt blood rushing to your face, “sure. It really is, uh?”

You shrugged, embarrassed. The rest of the guys shuffling in took in the place without even sending a glance your way.

It was spring back then. It’s now fall and winter is approaching. Still no sign anybody is looking for you. It’s unthinkable, really, that no signal has gone off and told the rescuers your position. Sometimes you think you're being left here on purpose, that they don’t want you back.

Or, it doesn’t want to let go of you.

You help Aurora rise a bit to make her drink water from the flask and she thanks you, still a bit breathless. You pet her hair without even thinking about it. A bit further away, just outside the cabin, someone is talking. An undertone of demand, of anger.

It’s Oliver, one of the main hunters, and Johnny. Oliver is one of those people who always seem mad. Easy to be so, here. Harder to be kind, and helpful, the way Johnny is. But it’s plain to see the reason why Oliver is always angry, boiling. He can’t handle Johnny being the de facto leader, threatened in his macho man facade. Johnny defuses, his hands up, tone firm and unafraid. Real hostage crisis experience. In comparison to the men he dealt with before, you think, guys who peaked as quarterbacks in highschool are like fussy children to him.

But also, in comparison to these men, you’re a burden and a nullity. Your weeds will die come winter, and you’ll be left with dust in your hands. Whatever is left in the cabin will finish, too. Johnny has taught you how to shoot, with a bit of remorse on your part– not enough bullets for you to really learn, you told him as much. It would be a waste, it’s much better for him to use the ammunition to hunt. He replied that you had to learn anyway. So you’d learn. The doubt remained on why he decided you should learn how to and not the others who couldn’t, but you let it go.

You remember his body pressing into yours, his hands on your arms, the squeeze of his index and thumb on them. Up, down, left, right. You could have sworn he whispered something in your ear, a question perhaps by its tone, but it went away with the wind, or maybe that’s what it was in the first place.

Johnny, for some reason that is still unknown to you, likes you. What he likes is unclear– maybe you’re his type or something, but he hasn’t pushed, or prodded, for anything more than platonic companionship. He simply talks to you, listens to your odd dreams, teaches you stuff and asks about plants.

He talks about his previous job, too.

“Used to be Special Forces,” he’d said, and your mouth hung open in the dim light of the cabin. “Secret operations against terrorism. I can’t tell you more, bonnie, even though I’m retired.” He pointed to the scars on his head, the heat coming from his body comforting at your side. Sometimes you wondered if he was making it all up, but his size and the way he handled the guns corroborated his version in your mind.

“I was in a special team, handpicked. Good lads they are. Bet they’re going to find us before anyone else,” he remarked, and you felt it again, that spike of hope in your heart. Kill it, your mind said. Think of the present only.

You exit the cabin to see what’s going on outside. Martha, clad only in a t-shirt and her leggings, is cutting wood by the side, huffing and puffing. Another chronic people-pleaser. You are friends with her, feet warming the others under the covers in the evening. She seems totally uncaring of the men arguing some feet away, and you can’t blame her.

“I’m saying we are going to fucking die here,” pleads George, always very levelheaded and unemotional. He clutches at his already ratty shirt, torn apart by branches and the incident. His eyes are focused on Johnny, glossy. The ex soldier doesn’t move an inch, apparently unaffected by the crying request.

“I agree,” says Oliver, tall in his convictions now that he’s not the only one going against the grain. Johnny shakes his head.

“You’re mental. You have no idea of what’s out there, and the further we get from the crash site the harder it is for them to find us. Besides,” he turns to nod at you and Martha with his chin, “I’m not going to abandon them.”

“They’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, right girls?” Asks Oliver, and your eyebrows wrinkle together. You’re not exactly elated to be left here, probably without any of the three rifles. Martha just keeps chopping wood. The embarrassed silence that falls is answer enough. Oliver goes red in the face, wrath coming and boiling over.

“Whatever, MacTavish. We don’t need you. I know how to shoot, and Chris was a scout. I bet there’s a town south. We will go tomorrow morning.”

“Sure, do whatever you want. But,” he squares the other two up once and for all, “you’re only taking one rifle with you.”

Oliver opens his mouth, ready to oppose, but Johnny continues.

“You’re in no danger other than some big animals. There’s three of you, keep watch at night and you’ll scare all critters anyway. You’re grown,” an hint of contempt, “and vaccinated, I hope. See what comes out of it.”

It feels like a scolding, the knowing words of someone who’s been there before. But where has he been, really? And is it really wise to send them off on their own without him?

You ask him as much when you’re washing a few clothes by the river that passes near. When you’d first found it, you were hopeful: a river always accompanied human settlements ever since civilizations started. But even retracing it, you found nothing more than rocks and plants and nature.

Johnny, who’s doing pretty much nothing but watching you wash the clothes, laughs.

“You heard them, didn’t you, bonnie? They’re strong and brave. Determined. If they think they can save us all, I say let them.” He looks down then, a bit wistful. You think he’s reminiscing on something. Maybe when he used to think he could save everyone, too? You twist the soapwort leaves between your fingers, and then brush them against a blood stain on the shirt you’re washing. It’s one of Johnny’s.

His profile comes right into your view when he sits on the bank next to you. A straight nose and thick eyebrows. Ice blue eyes that looks muted in the diminishing sunlight. His original, if a little unfashionable mohawk that has started to grow longer at its sides. A classical hero, the protagonist of the story. You dry your left hand on your jeans and pat his shoulder, tentatively. Johnny is usually cheery and headstrong, and you don’t want to see him down. He twitches at your touch, which makes you remove your hand immediately. His expression changes at that, a small wrinkle appearing on his forehead– before you can even put your hand back in the water, he shifts closer to you and leans his whole shoulder so that it touches yours. You blink at that, but don’t move. You can feel his nose on the exposed skin of your neck. An inhale.

“Johnny!” Booms a voice feet away, and your whole body moves to the side, startled. You hear Johnny barely suppress a growl. It’s Chris, the other guy who’s supposed to leave tomorrow. He’s nondescript. Doesn’t leave an impression on you, whether negative or positive, although you suppose that’s an impression, too. Chris calls out Johnny’s name one more time before the wanted man rises to his feet, ruffles your hair in the process, and sighs while he leaves for the cabin.

You keep washing the clothes. Your fingers have pruned, the movements not fast or constant enough to mitigate the cold water. Shivering, you bring your gaze to the mountains in the distance, and to the patch of forest directly under it, the tall spruces and pines shadowing the understory, the true heart of the wood. If you could cross the river, you would probably find mushrooms and plants you’ve already picked off on this side of the bank. If, if, if…

You feel a presence on your side, and while you think it’s Johnny that has returned to you, you have enough awareness to realize it isn’t so before you even look. It’s Oliver. He’s standing up, looking down at you still crouched. He says your name, like you already don’t know he wants to speak with you.

“Did you tell Johnny to remain here?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed, locks of dark hair falling over them. You don’t care for his attempt at intimidating you.

“No.”

“Then why isn’t he coming with us?”

“He told you, didn’t he? I’m not the boss of him.” You roll your eyes and keep washing the grass off someone’s pants. You think they might be Martha’s.

“Listen, bitch,” your hackles rise at that, and he gets closer, “you don’t talk to me like that. He wasn’t like this at the start, he would have come immediately. Whatever you’ve done to him made him a pussy.” His face is a splotchy red. Your instincts and your mind are at odds. The former tells you to cower and fawn, to appease an angry man. But your mind is wiser. It knows he’s no danger. So long as Johnny is around.

“Maybe it’s just a stupid idea. I’d trust the trained soldier over myself and you.” You rise to your feet and tap your wet hands with a stray rag. There’s a part of you that wishes you could be more direct in your approach, look at Oliver in the eyes, but instead you’re looking at the ground, pebbles and mud.

Martha calls for you, and you rush to put the wet clothes in the bag and get the hell out of there. He’s a bully, but you know he won’t dare to push you around the other survivors. For all his strength and character, he’s not well liked. And that’s all that matters around people, is it not?

[heartthumpnovel]

Heart Thump: The Cursed Prince AU

Part 2

Word Count: 9846 Since the short got about nearly a 100 notes (Holy shit you guys :'D) I kind of have to create the promised follow up. This is gonna be a mini-series I think to help break up the monotony of writing the canon story while still being related. Chapter 7 in canon is still cooking so, have this second part being about Natasha convincing Jason to do the one thing I get asked often.... to touch grass. Part 1 Part 2 (you are here)

cw: Implied past abuse, panic attack

—

The morning light flooded gently into the bedroom window as it reflected on the dust settling in the cluttered bedroom. While it wasn’t a complete mess, it had various garments and sewing supplies scattered throughout with a half-completed lute lay on the desk. Definitely needed some love and care around the place.

During the morning rise as the room brightened up, a figure shifted and moaned in the bounds of pillows that nearly covered every square inch of the bed. A dark and nicely taken care of hand reached out from the mountain of pillows to search the bedside for the goblet of water. Her fingers felt the cold marble of it and attempted to grab it, however she missed the mark on it and shuffled the goblet just far enough to where it tipped on the end and made a loud thunk on the floor. “Gods damn it.” Natasha mumbled, dragging herself out of bed. She pulled off the towel that was holding her hair as she forced herself into consciousness. Her dark curled hair fell onto her shoulders and a bit into her eyes. She huffed and rubbed her eyes, wondering what time it was supposed to be as it felt like she just got back into bed.

She could smell the morning dew and saw that the light had entered her bedroom, if she had to guess it was just after daybreak. Her eyes widened. “Oh! OH-!” She shouted as she ripped the sheets off of her and let the pillows be thrown all around her bed as Natasha leapt out of bed. 

“Craaaap- I was supposed to finish it today before.. Ugh!” Natasha strode to the lute she was in the middle of repairing and sighed as her fingers trailed the wood of the base. 

“Suppose there’s next time...” Natasha mumbled as she stepped away and opened her wardrobe with force. Her arms searched through the closet that could have been deep enough to hold at least one lion. 

“Right, thinkin’ pink today… ” Natasha said to herself as she rushed to put on her normal going out wear which comprised a nice yet reliable blouse with a vest and her nice riding pants, “And just to be on the safe side…” Natasha pulled out her shoulder guard and attached the belt to her chest. Can never be too safe in the wilder woods, even if everyone she’s met there has been friendly. Though the one person who she met out there was a guy who was trapped in a tower by their royally messed up family, she still considered that one friendly face out there. 

With that, Natasha rushed to her dresser and did her best to braid up her hair on short notice. The dressed up Natasha strolled out of her room and paced down the hallway, trying to think of ideas to bring to her meeting with the cursed prince. Originally it was going to be her bringing some delightful music to play, though her lute broke a few moons back unfortunately, and she’d been procrastinating on fixing the thing. 

While he was on her journey down the hall, the servants doing chores gave their greetings to the noble lady as she passed by them, in turn she also greeted them with a warm smile. “Mornin’ Farin!” “Good day, Sanguine!” “How’s that leg treating you Steven? Hope it gets better soon!” Natasha then made it to the main hall where there was a grand staircase leading to the entryway. Just as she was about to jostle down the stairs, she could hear a woman clear her throat. Natasha sighed and turned around to be met with Miss Gurnda, the chef her mother hired ages ago. “Morning Gurnda, do you need anything?” Natasha asked genuinely. “Oh dear Lady Natasha, Sorry for keeping you but, I’ve noticed you’ve not been home during morning breakfast or lunch. Are you eating well?” The older woman asked with concern in her eyes. “Awwhh,” Natasha said, scratching the back of her head, “I’m sorry ma’am… spring is the best to forage for herbs and I’ve been trying to make sure I’ve had enough supplies before summer hits.” 

Natasha then raised an eyebrow, “Wait what’s that basket for?” Natasha asked as she pointed at a basket with a cloth covering something that smelled of roasted garlic and potato. 

The older woman gave a chuckle and moved the cloth a bit to reveal some nicely done potato rolls, still steaming and the scent was mouthwatering. “I know I won’t be able to keep you here,” The chef said as she handed the basket over to Natasha, “But it will be a chilly day in hell if I left my little rosebud to starve out there.” 

Natasha held the basket handle in her arms, feeling her heart flutter and she reached out an arm to hug Gurnda enthusiastically. “Awh thanks Gurnda!” She cheerfully spoke as she held the basket close to her side, “You’re too sweet.” 

Gurnda returned the gesture with a hug of her own before Natasha made her way down the stairs. The old chef could have sworn that Natasha was in a happier mood than usual. Before Gurnda could wave off Natasha, the noble lady turned around from the grand doors and looked up at her, “Oh and could you do me a favor?” Natasha asked, “Don’t tell ma or pa I’m out in the woods again.” The chief raised a suspicious eyebrow before chuckling. “Alright but, you’re going to be the one to tell them my lady.” 

“I’ll tell them when they stop tellin’ me what to do.” Natasha returned with a grin before she pushed the front doors open to leave. Gurnda sighed as she walked off to do her morning duties as she shook her head. 

----

Natasha rushed towards the stables with her basket of delicious goods as she traversed through the front gardens. She passed by the neatly trimmed hedges and blooming marigolds with a spring in her step. Happy to get to see the cursed prince, as if she was young again and was skipping to a playdate with their childhood best friend.  

Sure, it had only been a month, but visiting Jason during her herb runs had become the highlight of Natasha's days. She never imagined finding happiness while harvesting lavender in the allegedly dangerous wildwoods, where only brave souls dared to venture. But the moment she saw the man grumpily yelling at her to leave, call it cliché if one must, it was love at first sight.

In all the tales and rumors about the cursed Atlas prince, none of them ever described that the giant trapped in the woods was handsome and a cute flustered mess. Though the rumor mill is rarely honest and she found it quite sad to hear people still believing that he’s just some Atlas super weapon gone terribly wrong. Instead of seeing a monster reaching out of the tower to eat nearby travelers, she had seen a lonely man who just needed to get outside. Natasha sighed at that prospect as she left the luscious gardens and headed towards the stables to get her horse ready for another trek in the woods. Despite having spoken with Jason multiple times since their first meeting, he seemed disinterested in leaving the small prison tower. While it was understandable that he feared people hunting him down, Natasha couldn't help feeling crestfallen whenever he gazed wistfully towards the outside world.

"Hey Nirvana," Natasha greeted her white and brown spotted steed, who was busy munching on hay, "You ready to go?" The horse responded with a huff before pulling its head out of the hay, swishing its tail indifferently. Natasha brushed her fingers through the horse's mane and secured the basket of delicious dumplings.

“Where the hells do you think you’re going?” a familiar gruff voice spoke up that made Natasha’s shoulder’s jump. Damn it.

Natasha smiled and turned around to see her childhood best friend and coincidentally, the head of the city guard. The knight was already dressed down from head to toe in his steel armor that only lacked his helmet to let his brown curly hair lie low as it allowed him to show his disapproved scowl. “Ohhh heeeyy Axel,” Natasha said, “How’s it going?” “Don’t give me that ya weasel,” Axel spoke with his hands going to his hips, “You’ve literally been ditching sword training all week.” He would not let her off the hook. Natasha sighed as she turned back to her horse to complete tying the basket to the saddle, “You know I really don’t gotta do that, unlike you knights.” She commented with a side eye as she could feel the angry stare Axel was giving her through his bangs. 

“Yeah I guess but, who was the one to ask about getting trained!?” Axel scoffed, he clasped his two hands together and pressed them on his cheek as he pretended to speak with an exaggerated higher pitch and whimsy.

"Oh, Axel, you're so strong and badass! If only I, a child with a silver spoon in my mouth, could swing a sword like you! Could you pwetty pwease teach me your ways so I can defend myself in the big scary woods while I pick pretty flowers?~" “Oh shut up! I don’t talk like that.” Natasha retorted with an eye roll, “Look I’m sorry I’ve not been able to make it, I’ve just been busy with spring.” 

Axel huffed, leaning against the barn wall behind Natasha. "Come on, Nat, what's really going on?" he asked, watching as Natasha tried her best to ignore him. "You love beating up the hay dummies at the training grounds."

Natasha loved Axel like a brother, but he could also be annoying like one too. "I'm practicing a special formation called Nyanabussiness, bloodhound," Natasha said, making the mistake of glancing up at him. That one point of eye contact was enough for Axel to understand what she was hiding.

“You…” Axel said with a mischievous grin, “Youuuu are sneaking out to see someone!” Damn it. The knight burst into laughter with the sounds of his chain-mail clanking. He put a hand on his forehead and tried to regain his composure to speak as Natasha’s cheeks darkened. She sputtered trying to hide what she already pulled out to the open. “It-it’s not like that-” Natasha tried to interject though the knight wasn’t letting up. 

"AHAHAHA- oh gods, this is rich!" Axel exclaimed before patting Natasha's shoulder hard, "Who's the unlucky sod?"

The noble laughed before shoving the knight away playfully, “We’re not courting!” Natasha said, “We’ve just been hanging out at his place since he’s a bit of a hermit.” 

“Oh wow,” Axel said as he scratched his slightly hairy jaw, “The daughter of politicians is going out to see a lowly hermit in the wilder woods… scandalous.” He smirked as he watched Natasha untie the reins off of the stable’s post. “It won't be scandalous if nobody finds out.” Natasha pointed out as she grabbed the saddle of her steed and hopped right onto the horse. Axel just stood there and crossed his arms, he knew better than to stop her. 

"Alright, well, take care, will ya? I ain’t in the mood to come and rescue you," Axel said half-jokingly as Natasha rode the horse out of the stable. She didn't bother to look back and responded with a sarcastic thumbs up as the horse galloped away.

Axel shook his head with a tsk under his breath, hoping that Natasha knew what she was doing.

----

Most people feared the wilder woods for a good reason; it was a dangerous place if one wasn’t careful. While the forest itself seemed perfectly safe at first glance, with beautiful flora growing and the wild life thriving in this ecosystem, it was dense and made for a good hiding spot for bandit camps or rogue magic users. Since it was also the middle point of the Atlas and Solaris kingdom with a rather profitable trade route, many who worked outside the law found this forest to be a haven for their robberies. 

Thankfully Natasha had known a good part of these woods for a while and usually traveled away from the primary routes. Her horse was trained to traverse off of paths and she had steered clear of smoke from campfires. Criminals weren’t the only thing she was cautious of however, she had heard of fae being active in the area and while she had seen none herself; she made a note to avoid rings of mushrooms and marked focus sites. And then there are those who warned of the mysterious giant. That one she chose to ignore. 

Her heart raced as she found the grove that had hidden away the initial path to the clearing with the tower. Natasha didn’t want to risk getting her horse hurt from having to traverse through the underbrush, so she tied Nirvana up to a tree branch. Before she left through the bushes, she untied the basket from the saddle and patted the steed gently on his muzzle. “That’s a good boy…” Natasha whispered as she pulled her hand away, “Yell if there’s trouble you hear me?” The horse huffed in acknowledgement before it leaned it’s neck down to eat the luscious grass growing by the tree’s roots. Natasha turned to the grove and made her way through the prickly bushes and leaves as she protected the goods within the basket. By now she knew her way through the branches and had made a small path for herself after countless visits. She was cautious to not get her clothes torn because she wouldn’t hear the end from her mother. 

Once she pushed aside the final bush, she saw the aging stone brick tower that was settled within the forest clearing. If Natasha wasn’t aware of the context that prison held, it would have been a nice centerpiece for a painting. It wasn’t a watch tower, she had seen similarly designed buildings before. The tower that stood tall in front of her was a prison for those who were banished, thus the maddening monotony of the brickwork was hardly a pleasant subject for a picture.

The noble wondered how in the world Jason held himself together in that place. Natasha wished deep within her heart that he would just let her free him to avoid such a terrible fate. 

Never minding that, she pressed on through the clearing and traversed over the small walking bridge to get to the base of the tower. She cleared her throat and called up to the lone stone balcony to beacon the prince. 

“Rapunzel, Rapanuzel, let down your hair!” Natasha yelled. “How many times are you going to use that joke?!” The voice from up above responded.

“Hey, I still think it’s funny!” Natasha responded as she crossed her arms. She listened closely from below, as she could hear a little clanking and rustling. This time around she pondered if she was going to see him large once more. He had ‘shifted’ for lack of a better word to describe it, twice after their first meeting. However, he hasn’t shifted drastically since then or, she just hadn't noticed. While it pained her a little to not witness the magical phenomenon again, she understood that it wasn’t her choice to make.

Eventually, she spotted those adorable wide hazel eyes peeking over the stone balcony, and those thin piano-like fingers clutching onto the edge. A smile spread across her face as she raised her hand to wave at the prince within the tower.

"Hey, how's it going, big guy?" Natasha called upwards, unsure if Jason had transformed into his taller state, as the distance between them made it hard to tell.

Jason revealed his smooth face and lanky chest, flashing a sweet dimpled smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, you know, not doing much out here," Jason replied, "Though I did finally figure out a good balance to make tea from the lavender you graciously gave me." He twiddled his thumbs over the edge of the balcony, contemplating something important. “Uhm, would you kindly join me for a spot of tea?” He asked, loud enough to be heard but quiet because of nervousness. “You want me to climb up there?!” Natasha excitedly asked, fully prepared to make the climb if she had to- but, right after saying that Jason shot down her suggestion. “OH, no no no!” Jason exclaimed as he waved his hands, “I-I wouldn’t want you to accidentally injure yourself from climbing up here and me being.. well, me.” Natasha felt disappointed for a moment, “Awh… then how-" Before she could finish Jason pushed away from the balcony and came back with a tied basket in hand. He smiled in pride as he patted the items covered in the basket. “Keeping safety in mind, I’d thought I would just send your portion just uh, be careful with my tea set will you?” Jason said with sheepish politeness in his speech, “It’s the only one I have.” 

While it was a downer that they would not be meeting face-to-face, she guessed he wasn’t ready for that yet. Natasha brushed off the disappointment with an excited thumbs up and a wink. 

“I’ll treat it as gently as a newborn,” Natasha swore as she raised a hand in oath. With that, Jason gently hung his basket on the rope so graciously given to him from the first time they met. The basket slowly came down and it landed softly between Natasha’s palms as she reached up to it. 

As she untied the basket from the rope, it ascended once more. Natasha wasn't about to let that happen. “Woah, hold on there, your majesty,” Natasha's voice was filled with playful reproach as she tied her own parcel with the rope. Of course, she nabbed one bun before tugging on the rope twice. 

It took a couple of moments of stunned silence when the basket disappeared from Natasha’s sight for Jason to acknowledge what Natasha sent up. This gesture felt just like a gift exchange as they each unraveled the goods within their respective baskets. 

“You made pastries!?” Jason exclaimed as his head popped out of the window, she could tell he was smiling, “Oh gods, you didn’t have to feed me!” 

“Kinda obligated to,” Natasha spoke as she unfolded the blankets that were keeping the teapot warm, “We’re friends now after all.” 

Natasha heard the tower’s bricks crumble a bit from above as she unveiled a surprisingly humble tea set. It was indeed porcelain, though it was plain white and had a single blue rose insignia on the side of the pot itself. Sure it was nice though, she expected a royal first born like Jason to have something more gaudy.

She held it up to examine it further with her curious dim wine eyes before pouring a cup of her own. Smells of the lavender and honey had a very relaxing effect on her senses the moment she poured it. Definitely wasn’t something she should drink this early in the day but, she was gracious for the free drink.

“Dang this really nice,” Natasha said as she held the teacup in her lap, “It’d be great for a bad night’s sleep that’s for sure.” The lack of response from Jason prompted her to look up to see he had gone back into the tower. The first thing she noticed when he did return was his towering form, about as tall as a healthy apple tree, crouched from below the window frame. She had to try extremely hard to hold back laughter when it looked like he had a comically small teacup and plate in his large hands. Despite the sight looking ridiculous, his fingers held it regally as a future king should and rolled his eyes, Wondering what was so funny. 

“Ahem- Apologizes if the tea is a bit sedative,” Jason spoke as he held the tiny cup to his lips, “I’m used to preparing it this way so I can calm down whenever … this happens.” With that he inhaled deeply and despite being farther away, Natasha could see his form shrink immediately with a calmed sigh. With that- Jason took a sip. “Ahh, see? Much better..” He said as he leaned on the side of the balcony to gain a better viewpoint of Natasha. 

“This stuff isn’t going to shrink me too is it?” Natasha asked as she was in mid-sip.

Jason had to hold back laughter to not spill his tea and swallow harshly in order to correct her. He cleared his throat with a few pats to his chest. “Ahem- Heavens no!” Jason explained, “Height altering stuff like that doesn’t exactly work on me, plus even if it did- I wouldn’t think of spiking you with it!”  Jason stirred the tea with a small silver spoon as he shook his head. “It’s just a calming agent,” Jason said, “Frankly it’s not even alchemy and yet, for some reason works the best to help me get back into the right shape.” 

A pit fell within Natasha’s stomach. ‘Right shape’?  Something about the way he was referring to himself wasn’t sitting right with her. Her eyes stared into her cup for a moment in silence, thinking. 

“Uh?” The voice from above spoke in confusion, “Is everything alright Lady Maryrose?”

Natasha suddenly chugged down the lavender tea and set her cup in the basket with a determined look on her face that was barely masked with a sweet smile. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Natasha said, “I think this tea party would be a lot nicer if we were by a scerne lake, wouldn’t you agree?” By the look of his grimminced face that too was also masked by a grin, his voice seemed to be peaceful but his eyes told a much different story. “I-I mean I suppose it would-” Jason shuddered as he put his own drink down, “Shame really.”

“Why shame though?,” Natasha interjected as she put one hand on her hip and the other pointed her thumb to the woods, “I know a great secluded pond near here that I think you’d like-” “You know I can’t do that!” Jason interrupted, a tinge of sadness prevailed through his firmness, “The cursed prince of the Anderheart family AKA, ME, stays in the tower in order lest he cause the end of the world!”

“Says who? Your dad? I don’t see him around to catch you sneaking out ya know.” Natasha spoke with a grin as she laid a hand on the stone walls, “Even from down here I know you couldn’t hurt a fly if you tried.”

“I-uh, No, I mean-” Jason fumbled as he crossed his arms inward, “What-what if I can’t control myself and accidentally step on you!?” She had the audacity to shrug. “Eh, accidents happen.” “...Natasha.” 

Before the prince could acknowledge Natasha’s rather self destructive behavior, she placed her hand on the wall gently as she looked up at him with eyes that were just as earnest as a kitten. “Wouldn’t it be nice to change scenery once in a while Jason?” Natasha said, “You have your calming agent with you so if you get uncomfortable out here we can deal with it.” She then clasped her hands together with a smile, “I’ll admit, I’d really like to see you up close.” 

Jason's expressions were unreadable as he turned away. Anxieties bubbled within Natasha as she wondered if it was too early to make such a request. She knew he was resolute about staying indoors, yet, as an outsider looking in, it pained her to witness anyone in such misery. This simply wasn’t just. 

“I suppose if one were to think about it…” Jason spoke up, Natasha darted her gaze upward, “It seems like curing my curse isn’t going to be an option, so perhaps I could train myself to stay calm and be basically normal. ” 

Natasha sighed, while that wasn’t exactly the mindset she was hoping for, it was going to be better than nothing. “So are you gonna come out?” Natasha asked. “...Yes.” Jason answered, he turned around whipping his face with his long silk sleeve.

----

“Actually- I might not be too sure about this!” Jason squealed as he was holding onto the rope, his butt having not even left the stone balcony. He sat upon the balustrade with both of his legs dangling. He could already feel the sweat form on his palms as he was gripping on the twine. They’d already been able to get the basket into Natasha’s arms and the last thing they needed to send down was the cowardly prince himself.

While a door would have been the more sane option, these towers weren’t made for prisoners to just up and leave. The only way to enter the tower, or for things to be transported in, was this measly balcony. Sure it wasn’t a problem for his druid friend who could turn into a bird anytime she pleased but, Jason was far from any wild shape master.

“You’re gonna be fine!” Natasha shouted upwards, “Just hold on to the rope and step down against the stone wall real slowly, you don’t want rope burns!” She set the basket down next to the teapot package beside her and outstretched her arms. “I’ll catch ya if you fall,” she said with a wink, “You trust me right?” “Ri-right…” Jason mumbled, he wasn’t sure if he’d developed a fear of heights or if the little Atlas pleaser in the back of his mind was telling him he was making a grave mistake. However, he’d gotten this far, and he didn’t want to get her hopes up for nothing. 

Jason took in a deep breath of the spring air, closed his eyes, slowly pushed himself off the edge and pressed his heels onto the stone wall. If it weren’t too late to turn back now, he’d be scrambling to get back to the safety of his cage. His heart was beating out of his chest and sweat dripped from his forehead as he hopped his way down. He nearly fumbled as for a moment his left foot lost traction, he gripped on tight to the rope with another squeal with his eyes held shut. His scrawny arms had already strained as he held onto dear life. “Get yourself back onto the wall Jason!!” called Natasha, her worry starting to set in, “You’re doing great for your first time!”

“I doubt that…” mumbled Jason as he swung his legs back into position and made another kick down. About two-thirds of the way through, the climb had already felt like hours rather than just mere moments and Jason was putting his full focus into not-- 

“KA-CAWH!” “AH!- aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” 

An unfortunate crow decided that moment was the perfect time to swoop down near the eardrums of the prince and scream the song of its people. Good for the bird, not great for Jason as his hands lost grip on the rope. Jason screamed, believing his short and rather pathetic life had ended in an ironic tragedy. 

“Oh sh- I GOT YOU!” Was the last thing Jason heard before he shut his eyes, his world going dark. 

---- 

"AGH! Oh my Gods—Jason, are you alright!?" Natasha exclaimed, her voice filled with concern, as she felt Jason's limp body fall into her arms. "J-Jason!? Anderheart!? Your majesty, are you okay?!" she cried out.

She kept her balance despite the surprise leap as she stumbled from the impact. Her arms instinctively held onto him tight, her heart feeling like it could burst out of her chest with fear. Looking down upon the prince, she could feel him breathing through her hands. Releasing a sigh of relief, Natasha jostled him a little to see if he would wake up. That’s when she noticed a few things about him. Firstly; he was tiny. Not as small as a halfling or a forest elf but, he was definitely short for a grown man and he was as light as a barely filled sack of cabbages. On account of his gangly arms, he definitely wasn’t fit enough to scale the tower. Natasha wasn’t even a classically strong woman herself and yet, she was having no problem holding him.

Secondly; she noticed his pale skin which looked like it hadn't seen direct sunlight in a while, which to be fair, was the truth. Despite this however, it wasn’t pristine as there were a few tattle tale bruises from his collarbone and forehead. It didn’t take a genius to surmise that these were from surprise growth spurts from the claustrophobic walls of the chamber. If it went for the regal clothing and the sparkly dark opal on his circlet, people would believe he was in prison for a decade. 

Lastly… well, he was strikingly handsome. Natasha had to admit when she first saw him, she thought he was pretty cute from far away but, up close it was like the gods blessed this man with the jawline and fae-like daintiness. She’d felt a pang of guilt for teasing him when they first met. Sure, it probably was flirting but, her playful flirting was used to see if she could call a bluff about ‘magical growth powers’ Jason warned about. A groan startled Natasha out of her thoughts, noticing that Jason stirred and his doe-like hazel eyes, that were hidden behind his knocked askew lenses, squinted from the light. 

“Ugh, did I make … it…” Jason murmured, his fingers rising to re-adjust his glasses, before his eyes fully widened as they were met with eyes of near celestial dim wine eyes.

While they were both blushing, Jason’s face turned completely pink and despite being in a trance, Natasha could feel her arms suddenly undertake a mysterious weight. Suddenly, Jason squirmed dramatically and pushed himself out of her comforting embrace. Natasha would have been more disheartened about that if she hadn’t seen his previously frail form lurch in height.

She let the fallen angel go and bore witness to the curse, almost doubling him in size, though he somehow still looked lanky even if he was in the same size class as an earth troll. Natasha was struck with awe, staring at him without saying a word for a moment. While no fear touched Natasha’s heart in the slightest, the feeling wasn’t shared with Jason. 

The, now 7ft, prince’s face flashed with terror as he backed up against the stone walls of the tower. His gaze darted between Natasha and at the stone balcony above as he tried to catch his hyperventilating breath.  “No no no no!” Jason finally spoke up with a distinct stuttering in his voice, “It’s already happening, This was a mistake!” He spun around and attempted to grab the stone bricks with his large frail hands, failing to get anywhere as his palms stung from the rope burn. 

“I-I need to get back inside!” he shouted in panic, not noticing Natasha approached him once again to get his attention. 

“Jason?… Jason…” Natasha’s pleas fell on panic-stricken ears, “Hey, it’s okay!” She huffed when her voice was being tuned out by the prince’s scared ramblings. Her initial approach of treating Jason like a frightened rabbit wasn’t working out, so she took the next step.

His flowing shirt sleeve was jerked down hard enough to where Jason finally shut his mouth in surprise. His own shoulders tensed and he turned his gaze back down. When their eyes met once more, Natasha’s heart fell as his eyes were trembling and nearly welling up in tears.  

Oh, the poor thing.

"And check it out, you’re free!" Natasha reassured, her gesture encompassing the blossoming meadow that surrounded them. A smile graced her lips, beholding the realization dawned upon Jason. He fell into silence, his mouth slightly agape as he contemplated the situation. His eyes left Natasha and his gaze fell upon the lively grove that surrounded the tower. 

Gradually, he moved, stepping away from the tower and crossing a small water stream. Natasha followed close behind him, her grin stretching from ear to ear. She couldn't help but wonder about the sensation of breaking through the constraints that had bound him for so long.

His near-pristine shoes brushed against the fresh grass and the gentle spring breeze lifted his charcoal hair gently. There was a pause in his movement and Jason just stood there, presumably taking it all in. Natasha trotted to catch up with his longer legs and crossed her arms, joining him in admiring how lovely the forest was. 

Warmness filled her heart, seeing the childlike wonder in his eyes from the wilderwood’s kind greeting. The sunlight held the prince’s skin in a motherly embrace and songs were sung by the insect fauna. At that moment, it was as if she was seeing a whole new person.

A tear dripped down his cheek, which was followed by a soft smile. 

“Not bad huh?” Commented Natasha, nearly tearing up herself. “No… not bad at all.” Jason responded. 

----

Truly, words from Jason’s favorite novels could not have described the lovely ambiance of an enchanting forest. Glances through his window had only a fraction of the majesty of a soft breeze and the sounds of thriving life surrounding them. It was beautiful, and with the sun warming their casual stroll, one would assume Jason would have been having the time of his life. 

That couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

In actuality, Jason was in complete inner turmoil whether Natasha knew it or not. It was only just a couple of minutes since they left the view of the tower, but Jason was already being plagued with thoughts of doubt; wondering if he was a bad person for putting the world in jeopardy for a simple picnic, and he was hyper aware of every thought that passed through his mind. He’d already lost control when he fell into the comforting embrace of Natasha when he stupidly let go of the rope. Now he’d be stuck being as tall as a horse, if that horse was on hind legs. 

On the other hand though, it proved useful that he could now carry both baskets easily and keep walking pace with Natasha, who was on her steed. It would only be a minute before they arrived at this pond the noble spoke of, by then Jason could drink the tea and shrink back to normal as planned. 

However, Jason was now finding it much, much harder to control his thoughts as he’d discovered something else detrimental to the picnic plan that he didn’t account for.  

He foolishly fell in love. 

Perhaps it was the rush of being saved by a captivating and free-spirited noblewoman, but when he looked into her mystical eyes, it was as if Cupid's arrow had struck him. Unfortunately, his curse, triggered by a racing heart, wasn't connected to happiness. It was specifically romantic love that caused his growth spurts. While romantic themes in literature or daydreams about being saved by a knight could trigger the curse, he had never actually felt romantic love for another person until now. Jason barely made eye contact with Natasha since they left the tower, though he’d unconsciously risk looking at her as they kept conservation. It might have been the newness of being this close to another human being that wasn’t Ellinor, but he couldn’t help but to take in the details he noticed about Natasha, now that they were side-by-side. For trekking out in the woods as often as she did, her blouse with intricate lace was prim and proper for a lady in a well off household. Even her riding pants were only a bit stained at the bottom from the kicked up dirt. Though despite the initial daintiness her appearance was, she had a steel arm guard on her shoulder and a standard short sword holstered at her hip. Jason remembered her mentioning that she was trained to weld a blade for protection. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like she had to use it very often. What really caught his attention though, was the soft cheeks of her face and lovely eyes. Plus her braided hair was extremely impressive, and she pulled off the look very well. 

“Ahem, Jason?” Natasha spoke up as she caught him blatantly staring at her. Jason looked down, noticing that the basket handles he had looped on his forearms were suddenly tight. The horse needed to have a pat on the head to calm itself when Jason suddenly sprouted another foot and a half. “S-sorry! I’m trying to keep it together the best that I can out here…” He mumbled, swiftly staring down at his now dirted leather shoes, “I’m doing a rather terrible job at it.”

“You’re doing just fine, big guy,” Natasha responded, “You’ve haven’t attempted to flee to that dinky prison more than once.” “That’s not even what I meant…” Jason grumbled, turning his gaze back to Natasha, “Could I ask you something actually?”

“Try me,” Natasha said, looking up at the giant with an eager grin.

“Why are you not terrified right now?” Jason said as matter of factly as asking how someone’s day went, “Everyone else, even Ellinor, gets tense when I transform like this.”  

Natasha jolted a bit when she had to hold back a huge laughing fit, this just confused Jason even more. Before Natasha could give her explanation, Jason leaned down a bit over her in confusion.

“I’m serious!” Jason said, “Just because I’m not prone to violence and raised to be a polite young prince doesn’t make the growth any less strange! How are you calm about all this!?” Upon catching her breath from the laugh she had to hold back, Natasha closed her eyes confidently, petting the back of her steed’s mane. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re capable of hurting anybody,” Natasha said, “Not only that, My best friend is a lycan and trust me, those guys have it much more gruesome compared to your little spurts.”

At first Jason nodded, thinking that was a perfectly reasonable response until… “Wait!? A LYCAN!? You mean a werewolf!?” Spouted Jason, thinking he somehow heard wrong as there was no way a gentlelady like Natasha could be associated with one of the most dangerous beings to roam the Atlas forests. He had never encountered one himself, but he has read stories of mortal men being cursed to turn into fearsome beasts and eat innocent people. Natasha could see Jason’s face run pale, but didn’t let Jason squawk the lies he’s been fed. “Right, I almost forgot you’re Atlan,” Natasha said, “Most of them are nothing like the stories in your books, They’re pretty much sentient as humans are and got instincts of a dog, not a monster.” 

“But-but the attacks..” Jason mumbled. “Either bandits, or newbies who think the only way to fill their hunger is by eating people because that’s what they were told werewolves do.”

“Oh-oh..” Jason didn’t exactly have proof of his own to stand on, and the fact he is a cursed man himself didn’t have the right to assume terrible things about others. “I suppose I trust your judgment more than anyone else’s,” Jason said, “I’m sorry for assuming your friend was a beastly brute…” “Oh no he totally is,” Natasha responded with a laugh, “While he gets on my nerves, he’s been there for me since we were kids.”  “Ah.. I see,” Jason said as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Truly you are not a judgmental person.”

“What’s there to judge?” Natasha said nonchalantly. “Right we’re just about there.” 

After turning the corner, blocked by thorn bushes, Jason let out an audible gasp upon beholding the breathtaking lake. He had encountered depictions of lakes in drawings, but this scene far surpassed his expectations. The sight before him exceeded his imagination; the water sparkled under the midday sun, while life teemed in vibrant abundance all around it.

“Whatcha think?” Natasha asked, dismounting her horse and securing the lead to a nearby branch. Jason had already begun making his way toward the lake, emitting a low whistle. The innate beauty of nature had always drawn the prince, it also served as a distraction from certain matters on his mind. “The water looks nice,” Jason commented as he set the baskets down on the lush grass near the water’s edge, “Didn’t expect a lake filled with this much life to be so clear.”

Natasha was quick to approach his side and playfully elbowed his free arm with a smile. “You wanna go for a dip?” Natasha suggested, though Jason’s eyes darted away from her with embarrassed mumbles. "Actually, I can't swim," Jason admitted candidly. "Life in the tower and all that..." “Oh,” Natasha’s spirit fell a little, though life returned to her eyes when she spun around and raced towards her horse. “That’s alright! Let me get the blanket!” It didn’t take long for the picnic to be set up as they brought little to eat. However humble it was though, it was more than enough for the both of them. After all, the food and drink played second fiddle to the enjoyable company they shared. Jason had to confess that the buns Natasha had brought were not only the spiciest but also the most delectable filled pastries he'd ever tasted. 

The conversation they shared started small, but like meadow flowers, it bloomed beautifully. At one point the both of them were having so much fun, Jason’s height relaxed to a size where he could comfortably sit on the checkered blanket.

“There actually hasn’t been another heir in your kingdom,” Natasha explained as she stirred her spoon in her cup, “From what I heard, the current king is having terrible luck bearing any, so technically you’re still next in line if you wanted the crown.” “Ugh,” Jason groaned, “Even if the people magically want me to be their ruler somehow, I don’t think I’d be cut out for it...” He shifted his arms to hug his knees, taking a break from drinking to not hog all of it himself. “Heh, yeah same honestly.” Natasha answered, though didn’t seem to elaborate on what she meant as she stared off into the lake. This piqued Jason’s curiosity and he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Say, you never really talk about who your family is...” Jason mentioned, noticing Natasha suddenly not wanting to make eye contact, “You’re a noble right?” A pit fell into his stomach when she didn’t respond right away with the warm demeanor she’d had up to this point. He lightly tapped on his cup with a finger. “I apologize if that’s a bad subject for you-” Jason tried to cool it over but Natasha interjected with a sigh. “Nah, nah it’s alright,” she said, finally turning her head in his direction, “My parents are good people, it’s just…” She had to think for a moment to find her words, Natasha fiddled with one of the loose strands on her hair. “My family is a part of the governing Circle in Solaris, has been voted in to help rule for generations.” “So you’re basically a princess?” Jason questioned, he wasn’t quite knowledgeable about Solaris politics and had a basic understanding of the democratic process. 

“Definitely not, ” Natasha responded, “The people are the ones who decide who gets to be in the Circle, I’d have to campaign just like anyone else and most of the time have a choice to run.” “But you don’t?” Jason wondered, bending down a little to be eye level with Natasha. “My parents have raised me to be in the Circle just like the generations before me,” Natasha said with anger boiling in her chest, “Hells, if I even mention the thought about doing something else other than government work they throw a HUGE fit!” She crossed her arms, still not wanting to make eye contact. 

“I hate how we honor freedom for all and yet for some reason I’m selfish for wanting to have freedom of choice!?” Natasha ranted, grabbing the sides of her head, “Now that I’m old enough for professional study, they have been insistent to tie me down to study bureaucracy! It’s just so…” “Not fair?” Jason said. “Yeah.” Natasha confirmed. 

In order to comfort her, Jason attempted to reach a hand down and pat her lightly on the shoulder in solidarity. Though as his palm made contact with her vest, his hand roiled and Jason hissed a bit in pain. Natasha jumped a little and spun around to see Jason cringing at the sight of his raw palms.

“You alright!?” Natasha asked in concern, standing up to get a better look at Jason’s hands. “Owww, that smarts…” Jason grumbled as he rubbed the small burn wounds, “My hands are still in pain from the rope incident.” 

“Let me have a peek at them,” Natasha said as she reached her hands over to gently grasp the tips of Jason’s fingers, pulling them close to her. He could feel her soft hands rub against the rough skin on the injury slightly. It caught Jason’s surprise when instead of closely inspecting the wound, she just closed her eyes and started to whisper a single word that he couldn’t quite catch. His hands jolted from surprise when a pleasant glow formed around his palms. The light managed to obscure the burns, though he could feel the rough pain from the warm wounds dissipate instantly. It felt like a pleasant chill upon his hands and just as fast as it appeared, the light faded away to reveal his hands being completely healed. 

Jason looked at Natasha in awe and before he could speak, she already had an answer ready for him. “Dad used to be a cleric,” Natasha explained, “He taught me a few handy cantrips but, I can’t do anything majorly breathtaking.” “But, you are breathtaking...” Natasha raised her head, wondering if she heard him correctly, though she was met with a sight of an incredibly flustered man who just realized that he said a thought that wasn’t meant to be said out loud. This was also the moment where Jason realized not only did he accidentally flirt with her, but he was holding her hands. 

The scandal.

Suddenly, his hands engulfed hers, and the growth spurt triggered his knees to nudge a teacup, toppling it over and threatening to break its porcelain rim. Jason’s heart was beating wildly, and the enlargement kept startling pace with it. He barely had time to scramble away from her as his surroundings became wildly different from before. His surroundings morphed into an entirely different scale, the once-shady trees now surrounded him, the once-vast lake seemed a mere puddle.

Struggling for breath, he crawled back on his hands, retreating toward the clearing's edge, which now wasn't far from the picnic site that had been so peaceful before. Horrified that his shoe was now large enough to topple it all over and it was right beside Natasha, who at this point was standing up with an unreadable shock on her face. "Jason?!" Natasha exclaimed, extending a comforting arm. "Okay, let's take some deep breaths, big guy—" She moved closer, but before she could reach him, he yelped, scaring the birds from their nests in a cacophony of fear.

"DON'T COME CLOSER!" His shout, though unintended, rang out powerfully, the potency of his voice a byproduct of his size. He regretted it instantly, aware of how dangerous his voice had become at this scale. The sight of Natasha covering her ears only intensified his heartache. Closing his eyes tightly, he felt the grass beneath him meld together, the oak branch he'd backed into pressing heavily atop his head. “Yeesh, no need to take out my hearing.” Natasha's voice pierced through, her intent unclear as she ventured closer despite his plea. He struggled to curl up further as he embiggened, knees pulling toward his chest. “I- I'm sorry.” Jason mumbled relatively quietly. The tightness in his chest didn’t alleviate and his fingers had gone numb as he gripped his hands close to his sides, beseeching his own subconscious to regain control. He hadn't been this height since…

Old spear head wounds burned on his gut and ghostly impressions of chains of his past clutched his throat. He could barely recall anything but the pain and the harsh words pitted against him by the very guards sworn to protect the family. 

His body, as quickly as it began expanding, stopped engulfing the grove they were in, however Jason could tell he wasn’t shrinking back to normal. A frightful thought raced through his mind, his stomach churned at the thought of him being stuck as a gigantic beast daring to feel anything other than dismay. 

His mind, clouded and unable to think of anything other than the pain he’d been enduring his whole life, he could hardly hear Natasha’s voice getting closer to him. Though he managed to understand some of her words as he could feel a tiny tug pull on his sleeve. “Your knuckles are going pale,” Natasha’s voice said to him, “Unclench them and breathe hun, you’re safe.” Jason swallowed, and uncurled his fingers as she requested. As he was comforted by her presence, he couldn’t help the guilt boiling up inside himself for putting her in not only an uncomfortable situation, but a dangerous one at that. He tried to speak up, but he couldn’t find the strength to talk through his hyperventilating. Immediately he was soothed by pats on the edge of his forearm which felt as if a swallow decided to perch on his arm. “Come on, deeeep breaths,” Natasha encouraged as she demonstrated herself while speaking, “Nice and sloowwww.” He struggled to find a moment, but when he did, he took a long deep breath of air and shakily released it. Feeling was beginning to return to his body as he could sense the small blades of grass on the ground and the wetness on his cheeks. Despite him re-gaining his senses, he still refused to let himself have his vision back. Deep down he knew that whatever he was going to see, it would probably make him pass out completely. Jason managed to clear his throat and speak with a pathetic whimper in his tone. 

“I-I am so sorry,” Jason said, “Th-this is very unbecoming of me… Hells, I ruined everything didn’t I?” He choked back tears, and tried his best to hold sobs. He heard a quiet chuckle that was paired with an out of place sniff, “Nobody looks dashing crying,” her voice spoke, “And that doesn’t matter… trust me you’ve done nothing wrong.” Jason could sense her presence lean over his wrist, her gentle touch petting the back of his hand just as if someone was tracing their smallest finger tip across it. “Didn’t realize how bad this could get..” Natasha wearily commented as Jason steadied himself. The giant heaved a sigh while his head hung low. “I told you,” Jason spoke, “This is why I have to be locked away…”

“That’s not what I mean.” Natasha sighed as she momentarily retracted the touch Jason yearned for. Before he could ask what she meant by that, he felt the air swish over his wrist and then a tug at his side of his waist. He’d almost forgotten he was curled up against an oak tree for a moment. He felt pressure wobble on top of his stomach, a sensation he’d yet to feel when he was rarely large like this. His ears then caught Natasha’s small voice in front of him, confirming the presence that was now standing on him was her. “Please open your eyes,” Natasha said, “I need you to look at me.” “B-b-but what if I-” Jason stammered. “It’s going to be okay,” Natasha re-affirmed, “I promise.” He froze. Two trains of thought had collided in his mind. On one hand he was worried if he were to see her beautiful face again he’d destroy the entire forest however, Jason’s trust had been handed over to Natasha many times before and if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have had the courage to step outside the prison he thought he could never leave. It may have been naïve of Jason, but ever since they’ve met that fateful day he felt like he her judgment was solid. Especially how annoying she could be with her earnestness. Jason gently let his breath go, not wanting to blow away his passenger off of his chest, and opened his eye lids gingerly. 

He had to adjust his eyes from the afternoon sun shining, though once he managed to blink a couple of times to clear his vision. The scene was just about the same before he closed his eyes; his body took up nearly half of the shore of the lake and the picnic blanket could have easily been mistaken as a handkerchief. However, when his pupils focused on the figure in front of his face and standing just below his lower ribs, he noticed that an adorably small Natasha was staring right at him. Though was she… crying? 

----

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Natasha thought if maybe, just maybe, the prince would find happiness by stepping outside and figuring out that he didn’t need to be miserable for the rest of his life just because he was cursed. Sure, it would probably be rough the first few trips into the woods but what she failed to account for was the situation of him having a full blown panic attack. Self love evidently wasn’t easy to teach. Especially if she didn’t practice much of it herself. 

Guilt riddled her soul when she saw that mortified face and subsequent tears that followed. How could she have not realized that he was going to rehash horrible feelings from growing to a height that he was forbidden to be at? In hindsight, she shouldn’t have been so selfish and taken this entire going outside thing slowly. Her need to see his charming face up close had forced him to confront his issues far before he was ready to. Did she even have the right to trample on his boundaries like that? These thoughts boiled over as her tears betrayed her when she stood face-to-face with Jason. 

“I’m.. so sorry.”

She choked up, staring into those enormous doe eyes. His eyes were slightly red from the tears that were going down his cheeks. The uncertain twitches of his lower eyelids steadied themselves once his pupils managed to dilate upon seeing her. Jason spoke up in a gentle whisper, which at this size sounded more like it was at a speaking level with a rasp in his tone.

“Oh no no no…” Jason said, “You didn’t do anything that heeds an apology.” Natasha clenched her fists, she felt like the giant prince was just being cordial for her sake. She was hoping to hear him say that she forgives her miss-step. Her head shook. “You don’t have to be so undeservedly kind to me,” Natasha said through tears, “I messed up big time and took away your sense of safety from you… Now you’re suffering.” A lavender smelling huff of wind blew through her hair, a moment of disbelief passed before Jason spoke up again, “I’m not suffering- well, not by your hands anyway.” When Natasha didn’t give a response, the large comforting presence continued speaking. “In fact, you gave me something wonderful Natasha,” Jason said with a weary grin as Natasha looked back up at him in confusion, “You gave me a choice.”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha asked, wondering where the hells Jason was going with this. “I chose to come with you to our picnic,” Jason said, whipping his face a tad with a long sleeve, “I’d never have left by myself, I wouldn’t have had the courage to and would have been miserable.” “But aren’t you miserable now!?” Natasha interjected, “If I gave you anything, it was a heart attack!” The collar of her laced blouse was wet with tears, at this point she covered her face in shame. Embarrassment of sobbing in front of him had begun to dog pile onto her mind as well. Why did she have to be so ignorant and get themselves into this horribly awkward situation? Her own mind kept coming up with more cruel things she felt guilty of before..

Natasha suddenly felt something soft press on the side of her head. 

Her eyes opened and the sight made her gasp, if she was seeing this right; A silky blue handkerchief folded gently on a finger tip that could have been mistaken as a small bedside table at first glance. Natasha looked up and saw his eyes pleading with her. “Uhm, “ Jason whimpered, “Thought you could use this..” Not wanting to decline this adorable man’s offer, she took the favor and dabbed her cheeks with a soft smile. “Thanks…” Natasha exasperated, “Look I’m sorry for-” “Natasha.” 

“...Yeah?” “I had an incredible time with you today, Thank you for everything you’ve been doing for me,” Jason said with genuine heart in his voice, “But please, don’t tear yourself down because of my need to process… uhm. This.” He emphasized by looking down at his chest which was about as wide as a king’s bed. Natasha’s silence gave Jason more of a chance to speak his peace. "It's not your duty to ensure I'm not miserable," Jason explained, a chuckle resonating through Natasha's boots. "Your company is more than enough..." The prince's heartfelt words left Natasha momentarily speechless. Even if she didn't believe she deserved mercy, an inexplicable sense of happiness enveloped her. The sweetness of the prince's heart must have expanded along with his body. She wondered why she felt so gosh darn happy. The noble patted down her tears one more time before reaching and wrapping her arms around the finger that gave her the handkerchief, giving it a tight squeeze. 

SNAP

“Owch!” Natasha pulled away from the sound of Jason’s squeal and was met with a slightly bigger hand and the prince rubbing the of his head. There laid an oak branch upon his shoulder that was broken at the stem. A brief, stunned silence passed between them.

"I, um, apologize for that—" Jason began.

“Oh no, I should be the one sorry here- I forgot about..." Natasha's voice trailed off as she too offered her apology.

A moment of pause hung in the air, their eyes locking. And then, they both chuckled. Natasha patted the tip of the finger that Jason had extended to her, a sense of camaraderie bridging the gap between them. After all, what was there to judge?

[magicthatmustbelove]

The First Moment Of Forever

A pre "Encino" short in which Michael and Althea first meet.

Note: It's been a while since I wrote a little blurb. I'm hoping this was successful in getting my creative juices flowing for a future "Encino" update. Also, we can't forget to wish our one and only King a happy heavenly birthday! 🎂

Link to original story: https://www.wattpad.com/story/291710565-encino-m-j

Althea's jaw could have dropped to the ground when the bus jerked to a stop. A halo of light caressed the tall, majestic building, causing the silver bricks to glitter like diamonds in the California sunlight. 

She'd only ever seen pictures of the Jacksounds Records building in magazines. Never once had Althea dreamed she'd one day be standing in front of it, the idea she'd soon be setting foot in it was even wilder. 

Her stomach churned with anxiety as she shuffled the bus, fellow passengers pushing past her as she stopped on the sidewalk to take in a deep breath. 

Althea finally knew how Dorothy felt when she arrived in Emerald City to see the Wizard. 

The Jacksounds internship was the most highly competitive and coveted internship Loyola Marymount had to offer its music students and Althea was over the moon when she discovered she'd been chosen as one of the five applicants to get the best musical education anyone could ask for.

Jacksounds had integrated black soul music into the mainstream in the ‘60s and '70s and crafted some of the greatest hits and biggest stars the country had seen. Joseph Jackson was the ebony Burt Bacharach, King Midas of R&B and Soul. Every melody he put his pen to turned to gold. He'd built his Empire with his bare hands and was now one of the first black millionaire CEOs. 

Anyone would be stupid not to jump at the opportunity.

Things had been tough on Althea when she returned to classes after taking a leave of absence to care for her grandmother who'd sadly succumbed to her diabetic coma but for the first time in a while, she felt on top of things.

Things were finally looking up and she was bursting with optimism that even Mary Tyler Moore and her tam-o'-shanter hat couldn’t compete with. 

The sales tag of the teal and maroon floral printed wrap dress she’d brought from the boutique she worked at scratched her back as she pushed through the building’s revolving glass doors. Althea knew she’d need to look as professional as possible for the internship but didn’t have the budget to keep any new clothes. 

She’d stood the entire bus ride, hoping not to have spills throughout the day. The twenty-dollar dress would have to be returned as if she’d never worn it. 

The lobby looked luxurious with marble floors, gold paneling, and cream furniture. Her eyes landed on the marquee boasting  Jacksounds suite and suddenly the imposter syndrome hit Althea. She was very much in the building that birthed the hits she’d danced in her living room to as a kid and a nagging voice in her head told her she didn’t belong. 

Althea closed her eyes, taking another deep breath as she pressed the elevator button. 

“Time to me make Granny proud,” she whispered to herself.

She resisted the urge to pick apart her appearance in the mirrored walls of the lift and instead, focused on tapping her foot to the jazzy rendition of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” playing over the intercom. When the doors finally opened, Althea was nearly blinded by a gold record of a Miracles hit hanging proudly on the walls, a dozen more trailing behind, each from an iconic black artist. 

The carpet was as red as the one at the Oscars, and she was almost afraid to imprint it with her pumps. A large, shiny mahogany desk was not far away, a hive of identical ones stretched the length of reception, each with a busy secretary perched behind it. 

“Excuse me,” she spoke timidly as she approached the desk. 

The gray wisp escaping the secretary’s bun and the antique pen necklace draped around her neck made Althea conclude she’d been working for Jacksounds for a long time. The chunky chocolate brown phone stayed glued to her ear with the support of her shoulder blade while her hands were occupied with a sharp nail file. 

She hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge Althea’s presence. 

“Excuse me,” She repeated, gently pressing her hands on the desk. “I’m an intern candidate. Could you show me where I’m supposed to report?”

The secretary stretched her hand out in front of her, inspecting the new oval shape of her nails as if  Althea had not uttered a word. 

“I tried to tell her,” The woman spoke loudly into the receiver. “If he lied about his height, he’ll lie about anything else,”

The young woman sighed, trying not to grow frustrated. She nervously glanced around the room, hoping that anyone would recognize her distress but she only seemed invisible. 

“Sure, the idea sounds a little far fetched but I know I can convince them to take us on,” 

Michael rolled his eyes before fixing his gaze out the conference room window as his older brother Jermaine arrogantly droned on about the company’s latest potential business deal. He often found these weekly business meetings with their father pointless and insufferable. Jermaine always monopolized the conversation, and any input Michael had to offer was ignored or stolen by the older brother. 

Joseph looked up from the document in front of him, his gaze falling to his distracted youngest son. Because he wanted his sons to stay abreast of the happenings in the family business, the CEO made an effort to include Michael.   

The youngest Jackson was far more creative than he was business-minded and Joseph admittedly preferred Jermaine’s gift of strategic business modeling than Michael’s talent and ear for music production. He'd trained the older son well and Joseph knew when his time on earth was up, the Jacksounds legacy would live on with Jermaine in charge.  

“Michael, do you have anything to add?”  He asked. 

The aforementioned son tore his gaze away from the view of the busy Encino street, his shapely brows furrowing in confusion. 

“Since when do we care what I think?” Michael questions sardonically while folding his arms. “Erms never lets anybody get in a word edgewise. Besides, that was my idea all along and he takes it and runs with it,” 

The elder Jackson brother leaned back in the plush leather chair with a facetious grin

“You pitched it but I perfected it,” Jermaine bragged. 

Michael rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up, Erms. You're not so original,” He scoffed and turned to Joseph. “Do I have to be here, anymore? This is a waste of my time,” 

Jermaine chuckled.

“It's not like you've got much to do,”  

The younger brother pushed himself from the glossy mahogany table, jaw clenched in anger.

“You're about to give me somethin’ to do alright,” Michael warned.

Joseph sighed heavily, too tired to endure his sons’ constant rivalry. 

“That’s enough. Let's adjourn. Jermaine, give me an update on this by Wednesday,” 

The older brother clicked his gold embossed pen close. 

“Sure thing, Joseph,” 

Deeply agitated, Michael stormed out of the conference room. Sometimes, he didn’t even know why he even bothered showing up at Jacksounds every day. He could easily live off his trust fund and spend his days trotting around the globe with a beautiful woman on each arm but Michael wanted something more fulfilling. 

Since a young child, he'd had a deep passion for music. While he'd never fully mastered an instrument, Michael was a savant at weaving sounds together. When he wasn’t perched behind the soundboard, he'd been sitting in on Joseph's meeting since he was fifteen and had trained himself to identify the qualities that created a bonafide star. 

Michael was just as capable and charismatic as Jermaine but Joseph had already decided which son would someday reign as CEO. 

“Hey, little brother,” Jermaine spoke, rushing to his brother's side to gloat. “Don't be so sore,” 

Michael rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. 

“Stay away from me, Jermaine,” He warned.

Jermaine chuckled. 

“Don't be silly, Mike. That kind of stuff is for executives. I mean, you have no idea how much pressure I'm under. Joseph's gettin up there in age and I've been taking the load off his back carrying this company by myself,”

The younger Jackson rolled his eyes as they entered the lobby. Michael stopped at the water cooler chuckling to himself. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe just how inflated Jermaine’s ego was. 

“You really believe your own shit, don't cha?” 

He snatched up a paper cup, his eyes wandering briefly around the office. They stopped briefly at his secretary’s desk before Michael’s gaze caught sight of something far more interesting. 

There at the front desk stood the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. 

Her skin was the color of silky, sweet caramel, her frame small but shapely, boasting delicate, deep curves, and a tiny waist held up by spectacular legs. The young woman's face held an agitated pout but was exquisitely sculpted with gorgeous cheekbones and darling brown eyes. Her hair had been piled into big soft curls, the fluorescent lights seemed to cast an angelic glow over her head. 

A rush of awe and allure quickened Michael’s pulse like a zap of lightning.  He'd seen plenty of beautiful women in Encino but no woman had ever stunned him the way this one had. 

She was a literal knockout in looks but there was also something so magnetic about her presence in the room. Suddenly, Michael wanted to know any and everything about her. 

In a bit of a daze, he shoved the paper cup in Jermaine's hand before slowly making his way across the room. 

Althea anxiously tapped her foot, an impatient sigh escaping her. From the corner of her eye, she could see a figure approaching.  She first noticed the dazzling white smile when she turned her attention. Althea had to take in a breath, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the sight of the handsome young man coming toward her. 

His walk was smooth as butter, natural and relaxed yet oozing masculine energy. His spanku eyes were large and enchanting- the kind you can hardly look away from- and Althea truly couldn’t decide whether she adored his eyes or his smile more. The beauty of his face could only be described as being caringly whittled by the gods. 

Althea never believed in love at first sight but the chorus of bells and banjos was deafening.

The ball of anxiety sitting on her chest had been relieved thanks to the smile. That smile made her feel safe like nothing could ever go wrong. 

“You look a little lost. Can I help you find your way?” 

Althea turned her eyes away from the lean muscles peeking beneath his collared Lacoste shirt and chuckled nervously. 

“I'm an intern,” She grinned, batting her eyelashes. “I don't know where I'm supposed to report and she's a little tied up at the moment,” 

She jerked her head in the direction of the distracted receptionist. Michael shook his head in disappointment. 

“She's deaf in one ear and she's always got the good one glued to the phone,” He tutted. 

His slender frame leaned over the desk, his perfectly coiffed jheri curl glistening under the office lights. Michael’s slender finger firmly tapped the rude woman, cutting her gregarious laughter short. She set down the phone with a small huff. 

“Gladys,” He smiled passive-aggressively. “Could you help this young lady by telling her where to report?” 

“Name, honey?” 

Althea flashed the young man a gracious smile. 

“Thomas. Althea Thomas,” 

Gladys swiveled her chair in the direction of a stack of manilla folders and quickly thumbed through them before she found the matching name. 

 “Production conference room in the West hall,” the secretary answered dryly, extending the folder to the young woman. 

Michael straightened himself from his leaning position against the desk. 

“Thank you, Gladys,” he turned to Althea. “C'mon, I'll take you there,” 

She let out a heavy sigh of relief. It felt so nice to be acknowledged. 

“Thank you so much,” she giggled. “I feel much better now. I didn't catch your name,” 

“Michael,” he flashed that breathtaking smile again. “Michael Jackson,” 

He extended his large, svelte hand and Althea felt her heart race when they touched. It was a warm, zippy feeling- like static shock without the pain. 

“You wouldn't happen to be related to Joseph Jackson, would you?” She questioned while following his lead. 

“Sometimes I wish I wasn't but there are perks to bein’ his kid,”  Michael shrugged. 

Althea felt a sense of disappointment. Sure, Michael was gorgeous and nice but she couldn't risk getting involved with the CEO's son. She didn’t need a silly crush getting in the way of her education and surely there was some rule against it. It was better to keep her head down and forget the idea altogether. 

“Piano,” He grinned over his shoulder. 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Piano. That's what you play right?” 

Althea giggled bashfully as she extended her fingers to inspect her cherry red nail polish. 

“How'd you know?” 

“It's your hands,” Michael grinned, proud of himself.  “Piano players always have the prettiest hands,” 

She hugged the folder to her chest, a blush creeping across her cheeks. 

“I'm classically trained but I don’t think I'll have much of a career as a concert pianist. Besides, I like funk music too much,”  

Althea giggled and he couldn’t help but instantly love the sound of her laugh. Michael quirked a brow. 

“Who’s your favorite?” 

Her doll eyes lit up, a bashful grin stretching across her lips. 

“I’m just crazy about Rick James,” 

He chuckled. 

They’d only met a few minutes ago but Michael was willing to buy her every Rick James album ever printed if he knew it would make her happy. They’d stopped in front of the production room and he felt disappointed knowing their conversation had to end. 

“Well, here it is,” Michael announced. 

Althea smiled adoringly at the handsome young man who’d come to her rescue. 

“Thank you, Michael,” 

He folded his arms behind his back and grinned, bowing slightly. 

“It was my pleasure, Althea. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask me,” 

“I won’t,” 

They’d both wanted the moment to last forever but both Michael and Althea knew this wasn’t the last they’d see of each other. 

[ragingbookdragon]

Beauty and The Beast Walker

Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Word Count: 4.5K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Yeah...I'm gonna make a new story :)

**********************************************************************

Up above the great hills of Evendim, Emyn Uial as the elves called it in Sindarin, farther northeast of the Blue Mountains, was a decent sized city filled with humans. Given its name from the harsh winter and the considerable number of tombstones, Wintergrave had made a mark on the map after surviving through the centuries on pure spite and resilience of the men and women forged by the frigid cold that came down from the mountains above. The people of Wintergrave were tough, hardy, driven to survive in a land set out to kill all life below. Yet, they managed, and from the first settlement, a city had built itself.

It wasn’t exactly a holiday destination, only those wishing to test their strength in hunting or trade with the elves of Grey Haven or the humans of Bree, as their trade routes had extended that far north, but it was a location filled with timber, ore, and quarries. Elves, men, and hobbits alike sent word to Wintergrave when it came to wanting supplies. The marble quarries surrounding the city were desired by elves to make floors, walls, and statues with. The timber and ore built houses and hobbit holes for the men and halflings. Wintergrave had become a wellspring of richness. And visitors, especially those who had particular talents that helped the citizens of Wintergrave, were paid handsomely.

Which is why when word of the arrival of a blacksmith into Wintergrave had spread, a dwarven blacksmith at that, the entire town was readying every blade, every axe, every kitchen knife they had to be sharpened, others readying orders to be made. Word spread like wildfire about the onyx haired dwarf who struck a hammer with the fury of a dragon and took all the orders given, charging a rather expensive price, but given the results from the blades and armor he’d shown, it was worth it.

He'd taken up residence in one of the cabins farthest from the town, away from prying eyes, and only came into town to deliver orders or buy food. Hardly ever did he step foot where many of the city were, even to the bar. He never came to the tavern, and that’s what most people who weren’t coming for building materials came for. Only The Snow Veiled Barrow had a wine made from Bleakberries, a fruit only grown in the harsh ground of the frozen wasteland. Though dwarves were fonder of ale, alcohol was alcohol, and it bothered her quite a lot that the blacksmith had not once set foot in her tavern whether it to be eat a hot meal or enjoy a drink in solace.

She had, of course, taken it upon herself to at least make it known to the dwarf that he was welcome to come inside whenever he wished. That being said, going outside the city gates into the wilderness where the wolves and much worse beasts ran wild wasn’t exactly her favorite pastime—not that she couldn’t handle herself, she just preferred to have others hunt for the meat she used for meals.

It was well past sundown when she finally made it to the cabin he resided in, a small place, quaint even for a human but perfect for a man his size. The windows and door frame had been replaced as well as the glass panes, no doubt he’d secured his place of residence before getting to work.

Careful not to drop the bundle of fresh bread and cured meats in her hands, she kicked the door a couple times, calling out, “Blacksmith! If you are home, I wish to speak. I mean no ill will.” to ease him of grabbing a sword or axe.

Heavy footfalls echoed from inside and the locks flicked from behind before the door swung open to reveal the less than pleased dwarf; he merely glared at her, evidently not wishing to be bothered. “I do not take requests at this hour. Come back tomorrow.”

As he started to close the door, she stuck the toe of her boot in between the frame and halted it. “I’m not here for a request. Believe me, if I wanted a weapon, you’d have made it by now.”

“What do you want?”

“Well for starters, it’s freezing out here. Perhaps invite a lady inside for a moment?”

“You? A human woman enter a dwarf’s home? I can hear the hysteria and accusations rolling in now.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve an awfully cynical mindset, Blacksmith. I’m only here to deliver something to eat.”

At that, he opened the door and cocked a brow. “Why?” it was suspicious, and then his voice turned almost accusatory. “Do you not think I’m capable of feeding myself?”

“Distrustful as well,” she muttered, and held out the bundle. “You’ve not once stepped foot into the tavern in town. While I find it understandable that you do not wish to engage with Men, I do find it rather odd you’ve never come in for a drink.”

“So, you think dwarves are drunks?”

“Have you ever perhaps tried not reading so deeply into things that aren’t there? We live in the ass of Middle Earth. The nights are long and freezing. Liquor warms.” She waited until he took the bundle. “All I’ve come to do is deliver this and offer a seat whenever you wish. If you decide not to, I won’t be upset. But know I am someone you can trust.”

As she parted from the door, he called out, “Why should I trust you?”

“I own the tavern, Blacksmith,” she replied, putting up her hood. “I know everyone and everything that happens in this city. My knowledge, and friendship, is unassailable.”

He watched with narrowed eyes as she disappeared into the whipping snow back along the road.

***

He felt eyes on his back, knew someone was waiting to talk to him, but they were going to wait an awful long time. Steel had to be tempered in order to be forged into something great. It was only after the hair had risen along the back of his neck that he finally put the hammer down and looked behind him. A scowl came over his face as he saw her sitting in the chair beside the door.

“Blacksmith,” she greeted. “So glad you finally decided to notice me.”

“Apologies for the wait,” he practically sneered, and she merely waved him off.

“Oh, I’m not upset. Patience is a flower that grows in few gardens and believe me, the garden I have sowed is quite prosperous.” She crossed a leg over the other. “You’ve still yet to come into the tavern. Are you avoiding me, Blacksmith? That hurts. Most men wouldn’t dare avoid someone as beautiful as me.”

Her tone dripped with flirtation, but he was in no mood to play, even if what she said was true—she was absolutely beautiful, a goddess in flesh. “I’ve work to do. Unless it’s to request an order, I suggest you leave.” He pushed a lock of hair back, wiping the sweat from his brow, and looked at her, taking in the smirk, narrowed gaze, and— “You’re joking?”

She rose from her seat, tutting, “Blacksmith, please, I would never joke about money.” Pulling a hefty sack of gold from behind, she held it up. “I want you to make me a dagger. A very pretty, and useful dagger.” Pulling another, much smaller bag from behind, she handed it to him. “With these inlaid in the hilt.”

He opened the sack, wide-eying the sapphires, rubies, and emeralds in the velvet bag. “How…?”

“As I said, it pays to be my friend.”

“So, you’re buying me off?”

“In easier ways. Dwarves are honor bound, are they not? Also, it’s a rather heavy bag of gold. Enough to give leave of a few jobs if you wished.”

He glared at her, obviously weighing it on his mind before he sighed through his nose. “Fine. I’ll make your dagger.”

Her smile irritated him to no end, and she handed over the sack. “Wonderful. When can I expect my weapon?”

“Depends on the intricates of the hilt. A week. Two weeks. The month’s end.”

“Ah, so expect the unexpected?” she nodded knowingly. “Such a game I despise playing. As much as I’d love to stand around and chat, I’m afraid I must return to work.” As she walked off, she paused and turned, pointing around. “And do open a window. It’s stuffy in here. Like I’m underground.”

***

It was actually a month and a half before the dagger was finally done, and it was too much of a surprise when he stepped inside the crowded tavern. She didn’t even realize until she’d turned, put a tankard down, and jumped a foot in the air at seeing him at the bar.

She put a hand to her chest. “Give a woman a heart attack why don’t you, Blacksmith?”

He ignored her, putting the cloth on the bar. “It is done.” Undoing the ties, he flipped open the cloth and there lay a shining steel dagger, golden hilt with gemstones arranged in a delicate pattern.

Picking it up, she smoothed her hand along the blade, flipping it over as she felt the weight in her hand. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, eyes glimmering with something more than desire.

“Sharp too,” he bit out, already tired of the stares.

“Enough to kill a man?” she asked, eyes dropping to his gaze, and he stared back at her.

“As many as you wished.”

Her smile was bewitching, and she tipped her head to the end of the bar. “Sit. I have something in return.”

“You’ve alrea—”

“I said sit,” she commanded in a tone that had indignation rising on his face, yet he huffed and took a seat.

She disappeared behind the wall and came back minutes later with a bottle. A very aged bottle. “This,” she said, placing a goblet before him. “Is something I think you will enjoy quite a lot. I picked it up from a trader a few years ago.”

He watched as she uncorked the bottle and poured a dark, amber liquid into the goblet. “What is it?” he asked, picking it up to smell it. Notes of buttery caramel, oak, and pepper wafted up his nose and he closed his eyes, enjoying it.

“Whiskey. From the halls of the ancient dwarven kingdom Erebor.” His eyes opened and he stared at her, disbelief in them as he looked down at it. “Go ahead. Try it.”

Seeing his reflection in the goblet staring back at him, he lifted it to his mouth, taking a small sip. Something flickered in his gaze as he pulled the cup away and muttered, “It’s not of Erebor.”

She scowled. “It better be, I paid quite a sum for that.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t get stiffed on deals. It’s real.”

“No, it is not. I am telling you it is not.” His tone had grown from calm to anger.

“I doubt you would know of what liquor comes from Erebor.”

The scratching of a chair on hardwood garnered the attention of all the tavern folk as they watched the scene unravel before them, the dwarf, standing, hands on the bar as he growled darkly at her, “I know what comes from the halls of Erebor, human. Do not speak of things you know nothing about. You have no right.”

She was silent as he disappeared from the tavern, slamming the door shut behind him. Humming, she picked up the split goblet and began cleaning it, turning to the others still staring with, “What are you lot staring at? Mind your own.” They went back to their drinks and food whilst she silently made note to visit the old historian.

***

“Master Bjolling?” she called out as she stepped inside the old man’s home. “Master Bjolling where are you?” she walked around the counter, down the steps and into the grand library the bookkeeper had. “Master Bjolling,” she sighed fondly, catching sight of the old man huddled over a desk.

He popped up, turning around to see her, blinking behind the large lenses he wore. “My word, is that you, my lady?”

She smiled. “Good evening, Master Bjolling. How well you fare?”

His smile was covered by his bushy mustache, but he greeted her with kindness and joy. “Wonderful! It’s quite a joy to see you! Shall I put on some tea this evening? Maybe some sweets and pudding?”

“As much as I would love to, I need you to look up something for me. Would you mind?”

“For my lady? I would charge into the flames of Utumno for her.”

“You flatter me,” she smiled.

“Now,” he said, cracking his fingers, pulling at the long tunic he wore. “What knowledge do you seek?”

She took a seat in the cushioned armchair, crossing a leg over the other as she laced her fingers on her stomach. “Knowledge on the dwarves.”

“There are many clans across the land. Which do you wish knowledge of?”

“The dwarves residing in the Blue Mountains southwest of us, what kingdom do they originally hail from?”

Bjolling frowned as he fiddled around a shelf pulling out a leather-bound booklet. “If I do recall,” he started, reading through the journal. “My predecessors wrote their arrival down. Ah, here we are. Erebor,” he said.

“Tell me of Erebor.”

Bjolling hummed curiously as he started walking around, going from section to section, staring up and down at the numbers. “This doesn’t have to do with that dwarven blacksmith fellow shouting at you in the bar last weekend, does it not?”

“It might,” she answered. The old man deserved at least half the truth. “I’m simply curious about the land is all.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer as he stopped in front of a particular shelf and looked up. “What information on Erebor do you seek?”

“Do you have anything on the royal family of Erebor?”

“Hmmm…perhaps? Dwarves aren’t exactly notorious for being open on history.” He dragged a large, ceiling length ladder down the line and climbed it, pulling books from the shelves, flipping through them before he found one that seemed to call to him. A large book, bound with blue leather. Bjolling pulled it out and climbed down, setting it on the table.

As she rounded the end, he flipped it open and started reading to her. She listened to him tell of the tale of how Erebor came to be, blessed by the Sons of Durin, a prosperous city under a mountain rich and powerful.

“—all changed, of course, with the arrival of Smaug, a fire drake from the North. He ransa—”

“Stop,” she interrupted, and he looked up over the rim of his glasses.

“My lady?”

“Who was the king during this time?”

Bjolling eyed her curiously before flipping back quite a few pages. “Let us see, I do believe it was Thrór.”

“Did he have any children?”

“His only son was Thráin.”

She frowned. “No, too old.”

“My lady, what are you looking for?”

She sat down on the seat beside him. “I’ve reason to believe our resident blacksmith is from Erebor.” Propping her hand against the side of her head, she asked, “Who were his children?”

“Thráin’s?” he flipped another few pages. “Records state he had three, Thorin, Frerin, Dís.” Bjolling looked at her. “My lady, might I ask what you intend to do with this information?” his expression turned solemn. “Please don’t tell me your idea is to extort this man? If he is of Erebor, he has nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, the hills of the Blue Mountains are filled with riches.” To ease his mind, she added, “But to give you peace, my intentions are not to extort him for a thing.” She rose from the seat. “Thank you, Master Bjolling. Your help is always appreciated.”

He smiled as she bent down and kissed his head. “For my lady, I happily assist.”

***

By the time he made it back to his cabin, he was practically dead on his feet, only wishing to fall into his bed and sleep until the sun rose the next day. As he unlocked the door, he took note of the fire blazing in the hearth, filling him with caution and warning as he pulled out his blade and entered carefully. He saw nothing at first, looking all around the room for any signs of thievery or attack, yet none showed. He began to put his blade away when—

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. The rightful King Under the Mountain.”

He jumped, spinning around to point the blade at the woman in the corner of the room, watching him with a hidden gaze; he glowered at her. “How did you get in here?”

“I have many skills, your majesty. Picking a lock is just one of many,” she replied. “I have questions for you.”

“I’m in no mood to answer a single one. Get out.” When she didn’t move, he leveled the sword on her and threatened again, “Get. Out.”

She merely looked at the point of the blade then to him. “Put your sword away dwarf before you start a fight you will never walk away from. No matter your age and experience, I will finish what you start.”

He twirled the sword in his grip and retorted, “I would like to see you try, woman.”

She stood up before him and for once in his life besides the terror of Erebor’s fall, Thorin Oakenshield was terrified as she bared her teeth, canines growing into inch-long fangs, and the walls shook with force equal to a hurricane as a guttural growl escaped her throat. He took a step back, sword faltering, and she closed her mouth, head tipping up.

“My family has long protected this land, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. Do not assume that my strength is limited to that of my body. Challenge me again and it will be your last.”

He stared at her. “What…are you?”

“The correct term far east would be skin-changers. Here we are called beast-walkers.” She sat back down. “My family line was infected with a disease that turned us into great beasts, giant two-legged wolves. Over the centuries, my family’s blood has changed and instead of our turnings being random, we can control it.” Her eyes turned to the moon outside. “There is, of course, still a desire to run wild under the moonlight.”

“Why reveal this to me?” he asked.

“Well, before you intended to get your throat ripped out, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. I came to apologize to you.”

He cocked a brow. “You can stop calling me that. Thorin, is acceptable.”

“Thorin,” she corrected.

Dropping the sword on the table, he looked at her. “Why do you wish to apologize to me?”

“I insulted you the other week. Of course, part of the blame arises from you refusing to disclose who you are, but I let arrogance get the better of me.” She met his gaze. “I apologize. You, in fact, know better than any what comes of Erebor.”

Thorin made a noise in his throat, and he sat down on a chair across from her. “The less who know of my name, the safer it is to work and travel.”

“Understandable,” she agreed. “There’d be quite a ransom note sent to Ered Luin for the return of the rightful King Under the Mountain.” Her eyes found the snow again outside. “I don’t envy you, Thorin. It must be a heavy mantle to wear.”

“I wear it with pride,” he retorted, and she snorted.

“Spoken like a true dwarf.” They fell silent, watching the snow fall in peacefulness.

Uncharacteristically, Thorin admitted quietly, “I’m leaving here soon. At the end of the month.” He bother to look over at her, even when he felt the weight of her surprised gaze on him. “I’m starting a company. To retake Erebor from that damned serpent. To restore my home.”

Her lips pursed in a look of hidden surprise. “Truly? Even the dwarven kingdom at its height couldn’t even stop him. What makes you think you can?”

He looked over at her. “I feel it.”

“You feel it?” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “Gods help your company, feeling isn’t reliable.”

“You wouldn’t understand, human.”

“Perhaps not. I’ve never left Wintergrave to fight a dragon that could eat me in one bite.” She hummed. “I have done crazier things though.” Her eyes found his. “This company, I assume it will be comprised of warriors?”

“Indeed.”

“Would you like help?” she offered, and he cocked a suspicious brow.

“What are you after?”

“I assume unless I tell you, I’ll never be able to join?” his silence was her answer and she sighed. “Wintergrave is ancient. Its people are old. The young ones venture out east to the warmer lands for a better life. This city will never die, but at some point, you have to know when to let go and move on. It is time for me to move on.”

“I thought your family has protected this land? Are you going to ignore your duty?” he practically accused her of derelict duty.

“You assume I am the only beast-walker here. Others will keep the fire going. I wish to move on. If I’m to die, it won’t be pouring drinks to drunkards. I’ll die for something.” She held out her hand, waiting until he cautiously held his out the same; she took it, and he was surprised how warm she was, almost burning like fire. “Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, if you would will it, I will join you on this quest for Erebor. My strength and expertise are yours.”

He gazed at her. “You would do this for someone you don’t know? Without wanting reward?”

“Well, if we do manage to retake Erebor, I’d certainly enjoy being able to run a tavern somewhere in there. I am quite good at it, if you recall.”

Thorin chuckled, shaking her hand. “I will see what I can do once we reestablish Erebor.”

She smiled at him, pulling her hand away to rise from her seat. “I shall make preparations for my leave. I doubt I will ever make a journey back to Wintergrave in the future. It will be imperative to find a suitable family to take over my tavern. And to gather my belongings needed to take.”

“Have a lot?”

She shrugged. “Not so much material that is important. I have quite a mass of gold built up over the generations. I’ll have to prepare it for travel to the Blue Mountains.”

“Why?”

“What good is a mountain of gold if it’s not used for the better of something? You live in a cabin with little. It’s not difficult to understand that you send the majority of your sums back to your people.”

“You would give my people your gold?”

“Not all of it. A woman has to have something to live off of.”

Thorin rose. “You honor me and my people in the Blue Mountains.”

She tipped her head. “I will take my leave for the evening.” As she walked off, she turned, meeting his eyes. “Thorin…”

As she trailed off, he cocked a brow. “Yes?”

“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “Good eve.”

The door closed behind her and Thorin listened as an otherworldly sound echoed from behind the door, then a blood-chilling howl shook the walls; he turned to the desk, pulling a piece of parchment out to begin writing out the call for his company.

***

The city had practically sent the two off with more food, supplies, and gold than the two could do with. Still though, Thorin couldn’t say he was displeased with it. His companion hadn’t said much since they’d left, and he couldn’t help but watch her when he had the chance to. She looked ready, willing, for anything. What was so different was her garb. No longer dressed in the floor length dresses she typically wore, but a set of darkened leather armor, silver designs sewn into the side as well as silver buckles. Her back was held set with a wooden bow and at her side, the dagger that Thorin had forged for her along with a silver long sword—that, he recognized as elvish, and he fought the urge to sneer and scowl at it. Her face was covered with a mask, cut off just above her mouth, silver faceplate in the make of a wolf—he found she had quite a fondness for silver.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable as they travelled, and he felt comfort growing in him at having her at his side. Which was odd because Thorin didn’t trust anyone he’d never fought with. If he couldn’t trust them to cover his back in battle, how would he know they wouldn’t stab him in the back.

“You’re thinking awfully loud, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.”

He rolled his eyes, griping, “I thought I’d said to stop that.”

“You did, but I find it annoys you and amuses me, so I shall continue.” She looked down at him. “What are you thinking about?” he opened his mouth and she added quickly, “And no need to hide it. We’re going to be together for a while. If we can’t be honest, we won’t work together.”

He ignored the urge to roll his eyes again but conceded. “I find it difficult to trust you since we’ve not seen battle together.”

“We will,” she replied, staring straight out to the road. “Your worst trust should be that I won’t eat you.” She accentuated her point by flashing her teeth with a grin. “I already gave you my word, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. Find it in yourself to trust me already.”

“Why should I take your word seriously?”

She pulled the reins and halted her steed, Thorin following in suit; she stared him down and said, “Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, at the end of the day, all a man has is his word. His word is his hope, his truth, his livelihood, his honor. I do not have a title to hold my honor to, but I have generations of protecting my home and doing what is right no matter how difficult to hold it.” She took the reins again. “My word is my honor, just as your word is yours. If you keep your word that you will protect me, then I shall keep mine and protect you. Nothing less.”

Thorin grunted, falling back in to suit beside her. “Apologies.”

“Save those for something serious,” she replied. “We’ve a long road ahead of us.” Looking at him, she asked, “Where is our first stop?”

“The Blue Mountains.” He gazed into the distance. “To collect some old friends.”

[pcttrailsidereader]

Did You Know?

On September 3, 1964, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Wilderness Act into law. This law created the National Wilderness Preservation System to protect undeveloped land, "retaining its primeval character and influence" with "outstanding opportunities for solitude or a primitive and unconfined type of recreation." The Wilderness Act remains one of the world's longest standing acts of legislation for wilderness. The Act has been noticed by other countries as a way to protect their own wild places, biodiversity and ecosystems. No small testament to the power of protecting our most wild places not just in the United States but throughout the world.

Near Pleasant View Ridge Wilderness

It seems to me that if you have thru hiked the Pacific Crest Trail sights and sounds, landmarks and monuments get seen, heard, passed through and in some cases passed over. Section hikers on the other hand may have a similar experience to thru hikers but likely given the nature of sectioning may allow for lingering longer along the way.

Whether or not you are or know a thru hiker or you are or know a section hiker did you know the Pacific Crest Trail passes through fifty wilderness areas (both federal and state). More than any other National Scenic Trail in the United States. From fifteen identified wilderness areas in 1964 to fifty today, sixty years later, the importance of these lands is obvious. Acknowledging and protecting these spaces really hits anyone who has the opportunity to visit and/or pass through. Here are a some that you may have visited or heard about from south to north on the PCT; Hauser, Anza-Borrego, John Muir, Desolation, Marble Mountain, Three Sisters, Goat Rocks, and Pasayten.

Across three states these wilderness areas are a tribute to the importance of protecting large forests and watersheds that together help combat climate change. These spaces not only offer safe refuges for threatened plants and animals but offer a gateway for humans to connect more deeply with nature. Finally, many wilderness areas intersect and envelope indigenous peoples' ancestral lands. Taking into account the treasure these spaces hold as homelands for these native people.

Sixty years on the Wilderness Act is a shining piece of legislation that has evolved over six decades. As time as gone by the protected lands have grown from 9.1 million acres to over 111 million acres. The Pacific Crest Trail has enjoyed a great benefit thanks to the Wilderness Act.

If you didn't know it before, take some time to find out more about the wilderness areas all along the PCT. You can explore them even if it is a day hike. You will not be disappointed. In a these times when we question so many things including the choices our leaders make, we can be proud of the fact that sixty years later we still recognize the importance of wilderness. In this sixtieth year of existence protecting wilderness for generations to come is essential as long as we do not lose sight of why, as a nation, we value these places so deeply.

[hunting-songs]

REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST.

bold  the aesthetic  for your  muse italicize what can be taken 2 ways or applies only partially.

“ you rise, I fall, I stand, you crawl, you twist, I turn. ” / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / a face in the mirror that you don’t recognize. / “ how could you do this to me? ” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there./ “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind./ the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “ oh god, what have you done? ” /

your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself./ the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper./ a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown./ you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “ jump. I dare you. ”/ 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “ I was hoping that you’d understand. ” /there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered./ loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ”/ siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. /

“ they say your name is death. ”/all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “ what are you waiting for? ” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. /the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming. / learn through teaching. / there were things; your own acts from which you could not recover. / how the other half dies. / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” /  your mother crashed against the rocks to give you the world. /  you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you. / “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / i am awake in the place where women die. /thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church. / you will do anything to spare them. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / the worst monsters wear the faces of men. / “ madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me. ”/ “ my blood ran cold. ” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you.

[localmvtt]

Im planning on making a wilderness au for Marble hornets so here are the possible animals for the gang ! [Srs for bad grammar :')]

Jay - blue jay or deer

Tim - bear or cardinal

Brian - owl or wolf

Alex - mountain lion or hawk

Amy - Mountain lion or mouse (ironic if we choose alex to be hawk)

Jessica - horse

Seth - coyote

Taylor - Bat

Y'all can leave suggestions!

[valhikes]

Marble Mountain Wilderness

Klamath National Forest

California

A bit of a hill, a waterfall, and a lake to make an easier day on the first day of an overnight to bag the high point of the Marble Mountain Wilderness.

[peacehopeandrats]

For Your Consideration

This year was a small year for me, so I will be throwing things down kind of quickly, sorted by year. I want to thank everyone who commented and left kudos on these. I'm putting them up for consideration in the @the-chipped-cup-awards because of you.

How To Date A Librarian - A good fit for: Best Rumbelle Secret Santa, Best Date, Best BFF/Wingman

The Monster In The Storm - A good fit for: Best Missing Years, Best Gideon, Best Drama, Best Family

In The Shadows Of Others - A good fit for: Best AU - Based On Other Media, Death, Hurts So Good,

So You Want To Build A Sex Room - A good fit for: Best Kink/BDSM, Best Missing Years, Best Storybrooke 

The Angel And The Devil - A good fit for: Best Golden Lace, Best One Shot, Best PWP

A Full Imagination - A good fit for: Best AU - Based On Other Media

Unconventional - A good fit for: Family, Best Missing Years

Wounds and Scars - A good fit for: BFF/Wingman, Best Trope, Best One Shot, Best Hurts So Good, Best Comfort

Warming The Chill - A good fit for: Best One Shot, Best Short Fic

Series I worked on this year that could be considered for Best Series:

Growing Up

Golden Dreams

Those We Left Behind - A good fit for: Hurts So Good, Death, Best Remix

Beauty and the Beast - A good fit for: Best Dark Castle, Best Storybrooke, Best Remix

The Oldest Door - A good fit for: Best Dark Castle, Best Storybrooke

War In Pieces - A good fit for: Best Storybrooke

Forgery - A good fit for: Best Detective Weaver, Best Afterlife Fic, Best Drama, Hurts So Good, Best Novel Length

Granted - A good fit for: Best Afterlife Fic, Best Dark One Rumple, Best Dark Castle

Lost and Found - A good fit for: Best Date- Overall, Best Storybrooke, Best Missing Years, Best Wingman/BFF

Return - A good fit for: Best Gideon, Best Missing Years, Best One Shot

Once There Was A Wish - A good fit for: Best Dark One Rumple

The Tent Of Infinite Adventure - A good fit for: Best Missing Years, Best Gideon, Best Belle, Best Rumple

Welcome To Storybrooke - A good fit for: Best Storybrooke, Best Gideon, Best Baelfire/Neal

One Lover, Many Dreams - A good fit for: PWP, Best Golden Lace,

One Word, Many Meanings - A good fit for: PWP, Best Woven Lace

Mountains, Streams, and Magical Things - A good fit for: Best Novel Length, Best Storybrooke, Best Missing Years, Best BFF/Wingman

Pop Ins - A good fit for: Best Missing Years, Best Family

The City That Never Sleeps - A good fit for: Family, Best Missing Years, Best Crossover

Snow Bunnies - A good fit for: Best Dark Castle, Best Storybrooke, Best Belle, Best Mr Gold, Best Dark One Rumple

Arson - A good fit for: Best Detective Weaver

Leaving Storybrooke - A good fit for Best Missing Years, Best Storybrooke, Family

There are way too many of these to link individually, so I will give you the link to the series in case you want to go read something.

If one of my Monthly Rumbelling 2021 fics stands out in your memory, please consider nominating it for Best One Shot or Best Short Fic.

Fluff

Family - Bouquet, Journey, Carousel, Wilderness, Balloon, Mobile

Comfort - Illness

Smut

Kink/BDSM - Shop, Stroll, Wax

Romance - Sunshine, Stacks, Home, Teeth, Memory

PWP - Sunshine, Morning

Angst

Death - Morning, Gift, Carousel, Piercing

Hurts So Good - Gift, Waiting, Received, Ritual, Road, Field, Recovery

General Awards

Best Dark Castle - Tea, Choices, Delivery, Storm, Garden, Fantasy, Steps, Ingredients, Frost, Maid, Marble, Memory, Wild, Spy, Blast

Best Storybrooke - Sent, Meal, 

Best Missing Years - Bouquet, Journey, Ruin, Dressing, Carousel, Wilderness, Falls, Logs, Teeth, Balloon, Mobile, Accidents

Special Categories

Best Golden Lace - Stroll

Best Woven Lace - Morning, Wax

Best Woven Beauty - Gift

Best Afterlife - Reunion, Morning

Best AU Original - Wild

Character Awards

Best Belle - Tea, Hunters, Sent, Garden, Visitor, Road, Fantasy, Steps, Falls, Frost, Maid, Meal, Marble

Best Lacey - Stroll, Wax

Best Dark One Rumple - Tea, Choices, Storm, Garden, Visitor, Ingredients, Frost, Maid, Marble, Memory

Best Mr Gold - Received, Fire, Meal

Best Weaver -  Piercing, Depths

Best Baelfire/Neal - Steps

Best Gideon - Museum, Stacks, Wilderness, Balloon, Mobile

Best BFF/Wingman - Fatherhood, Healing, Game, Overnight, Lunch, Blankets

[constellationcrowned]

MUSE AESTHETICS Bold for constants, italics for situational things

Muse: Kariom

“just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl.” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “you’ll get it done before the day is up.” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / a face in the mirror that you don’t recognize. / “how could you do this to me?” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “you’re getting better.” / “they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly.” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “oh god, what have you done?” / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you?” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. /

there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that.” / “they weren’t there when it happened.” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. /“you’re the best friend i’ve ever had.” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “jump. i dare you.” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “i was hoping that you’d understand.” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “i miss you.” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. /“they say your name is death.” / all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “what are you waiting for?” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. /the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming./ learn through teaching. / there were things; your own acts from which you could not recover. / how the other half dies. / “have you ever thought about why trees bleed?” /  your mother crashed against the rocks to give you the world. / you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you./ “go down with me, fall with me.” / i am awake in the place where women die. / thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church./ you will do anything to spare them. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / the worst monsters wear the faces of men. / “madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me.” / “my blood ran cold.” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you.

[roomchailimited]

Patagonia’s Wild Side: Exploring the Argentine and Chilean Wilderness

Patagonia’s vast, untamed landscapes stretch across Argentina and Chile, offering a paradise for nature lovers, adventurers, and those yearning for remote beauty. This region, with its breathtaking mountains, glacial lakes, and expansive steppes, is home to some of the most pristine and dramatic scenery in the world. Whether you’re hiking among towering peaks, observing unique wildlife, or simply soaking in the surreal beauty, Patagonia captures the soul with its raw power and serenity. Here’s a journey through Patagonia’s unmissable highlights, from Argentina’s famed Los Glaciares to Chile’s rugged Torres del Paine.

1. El Calafate and Los Glaciares National Park, Argentina

In Argentina’s southern Patagonia lies El Calafate, a gateway to Los Glaciares National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site. This region is home to the magnificent Perito Moreno Glacier, one of the few glaciers in the world that is still advancing. You can explore the glacier up close via designated boardwalks or, for the more adventurous, join a glacier trekking tour for an unforgettable experience of walking on ice.

Local Tip: Don’t miss the glacier rupture, a stunning natural spectacle as massive chunks of ice break off and crash into the lake below.

2. Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

Crossing into Chile, Torres del Paine offers some of the most iconic landscapes in Patagonia. Known for its dramatic granite peaks, turquoise lakes, and unique wildlife, the park is a hiker’s dream. The W Trek and the O Circuit are two of the most popular multi-day hikes, leading adventurers through diverse ecosystems, from forests to glacial valleys. Even if you’re only there for a day, shorter trails provide access to breathtaking views of the park’s most famous sights, including the Torres del Paine themselves.

Local Tip: Weather in Torres del Paine can be unpredictable, so come prepared with layered clothing and good gear. If you want a less rugged experience, eco-lodges within the park offer guided tours and comfort.

3. Ushuaia: The End of the World, Argentina

Dubbed "The End of the World," Ushuaia is the southernmost city in the world and the gateway to Antarctica. This Argentine town offers a mix of adventure and history, with activities like boat tours through the Beagle Channel and visits to Tierra del Fuego National Park. The landscapes here are unique, where the Andes meet the sea, and the wildlife includes penguins, sea lions, and many bird species.

Local Tip: Take a boat tour to Isla Martillo to see the Magellanic and Gentoo penguins in their natural habitat—an unforgettable experience for wildlife enthusiasts.

4. Bariloche: The Lake District, Argentina

In northern Patagonia, Bariloche offers a different side of Patagonia, known for its alpine-style architecture and crystal-clear lakes. The Circuito Chico is a popular route that offers stunning views of Lago Nahuel Huapi and surrounding peaks. Bariloche is also a hub for outdoor activities year-round, from skiing in winter to kayaking and hiking in the summer.

Local Tip: Visit Cerro Campanario for one of the best panoramic views in Patagonia, or take a day trip to the nearby Arrayanes Forest, known for its cinnamon-colored trees.

5. The Marble Caves, Chile

On the Chilean side of Patagonia, General Carrera Lake is home to the ethereal Marble Caves. Carved by centuries of water erosion, these natural formations are striking with their swirling blue, gray, and white colors. The best way to explore these caves is by boat or kayak, allowing you to get close to the intricate marble formations and turquoise waters.

Local Tip: The Marble Caves are a remote attraction, so consider planning an overnight stay in the nearby town of Puerto Río Tranquilo to fully enjoy the experience.

6. The Carretera Austral, Chile

For an adventurous road trip through the wild heart of Patagonia, Carretera Austral is a scenic highway that stretches for more than 1,200 kilometers through Chilean Patagonia. This route offers diverse landscapes, from lush forests and fjords to snow-capped mountains and remote villages. Popular stops include the Queulat National Park, home to the impressive hanging glacier, and Pumalín Park, a private reserve established to protect Patagonia’s unique ecosystem.

Local Tip: Rent a 4x4 vehicle for this journey, as the road is largely unpaved. Take your time to explore the small towns and stay in rustic lodges along the way.

7. Puerto Natales and the Fjords, Chile

Puerto Natales is the main entry point for Torres del Paine but also a worthy destination in its own right. From here, you can take a boat tour through Last Hope Sound to see remote glaciers and fjords, such as the Balmaceda and Serrano glaciers. The boat trip offers incredible photo opportunities of these ancient ice formations and stunning fjord landscapes.

Local Tip: Puerto Natales is known for its cozy pubs and restaurants where you can sample local Chilean dishes like lamb barbecue and fresh seafood after a day of exploring.

8. Exploring Patagonia’s Wildlife

Both Argentine and Chilean Patagonia are home to a variety of unique wildlife. Guanacos (related to llamas), condors, pumas, and foxes roam the plains and mountains, while marine life such as sea lions, whales, and penguins thrive along the coasts. The Valdés Peninsula in Argentina is one of the best places to see marine life, especially during whale-watching season between June and December.

Local Tip: When hiking in remote areas, stay on marked trails and respect local wildlife. Some parks, like Torres del Paine, have strict rules to protect the ecosystem.

Practical Tips for Patagonia Travelers

Traveling in Patagonia requires careful planning, as the distances are vast and the weather can change quickly. Local agencies such as Roomchai Limited, Patagonia Explorer, and EcoChile Travel offer guided tours and can help with accommodations and transportation, ensuring you make the most of your adventure in this wild, remote region.

Best Time to Visit: The Patagonian summer (December to February) is the most popular season, but spring (October-November) and fall (March-April) also offer beautiful colors and fewer crowds.

Packing Essentials: Weatherproof clothing, sturdy hiking boots, sunscreen, and plenty of layers are key for handling Patagonia’s unpredictable weather.

Travel Logistics: Some areas of Patagonia are remote, so consider internal flights or plan for long drives.

Conclusion

Patagonia’s wilderness is a place that captures the spirit of adventure, offering a true escape into nature's grandeur. From towering glaciers and rugged mountains to serene lakes and windswept plains, each corner of this region has something unique and awe-inspiring to offer. Embark on a journey to Patagonia, where the beauty of the natural world will leave an indelible mark on your soul.

[shivikumari]

West Bengal, a state in eastern India, is a treasure trove of cultural richness, historical significance, and natural beauty. From the bustling city of Kolkata to the serene landscapes of the Himalayas, West Bengal offers a diverse array of experiences for travelers. Whether you're a history enthusiast, a nature lover, or a foodie, West Bengal has something for everyone. If you're planning a trip to this vibrant state, here are some Place to Visit in West Bengal that will make your journey truly memorable. This guide is brought to you by Kankidham Lords Inn Kanki, your ideal stay for exploring the beauty of West Bengal.

1. Kolkata: The Cultural Capital

No trip to West Bengal is complete without a visit to Kolkata, the state’s capital and cultural heart. Known as the “City of Joy,” Kolkata is a vibrant metropolis that seamlessly blends the old and the new. Start your exploration at the iconic Victoria Memorial, a stunning white marble building that stands as a testament to the British Raj. Next, visit the Indian Museum, one of the oldest and largest museums in the country, where you can explore a vast collection of artifacts and art. For a taste of the local culture, take a walk through the bustling streets of College Street, home to the famous book market and the historic Coffee House. Don’t miss out on trying Kolkata’s delectable street food, including puchkas (pani puri), kathi rolls, and mishti (sweets) like rasgulla and sandesh.

2. Darjeeling: The Queen of the Hills

If you’re seeking a tranquil retreat in the lap of nature, Darjeeling is the perfect destination. Known as the “Queen of the Hills,” this charming hill station offers breathtaking views of the snow-capped Kanchenjunga, the third-highest mountain in the world. Take a ride on the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, also known as the “Toy Train,” a UNESCO World Heritage Site that offers a picturesque journey through the mountains. Visit the famous Tiger Hill at sunrise for a spectacular view of the Kanchenjunga bathed in golden light. Explore the lush tea gardens, where you can learn about the process of tea production and sample some of the finest Darjeeling tea. The Peace Pagoda and the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute are also worth a visit, offering insights into the region’s spiritual and adventurous spirit.

3. Sundarbans: The Mangrove Paradise

For wildlife enthusiasts, the Sundarbans is a must-visit destination. Home to the largest mangrove forest in the world, the Sundarbans is a UNESCO World Heritage Site known for its unique ecosystem and rich biodiversity. The Sundarbans National Park is famous for being the habitat of the Royal Bengal Tiger, as well as other wildlife like crocodiles, spotted deer, and various species of birds. Take a boat safari through the intricate network of rivers and creeks to explore this fascinating wilderness. The tranquility of the mangroves, combined with the thrill of spotting wildlife, makes a visit to the Sundarbans an unforgettable experience.

4. Shantiniketan: The Land of Art and Culture

Shantiniketan, founded by the Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore, is a serene town that serves as a hub for art, culture, and education. Located about 160 kilometers from Kolkata, Shantiniketan is home to Visva-Bharati University, a unique institution that emphasizes learning in harmony with nature. The town is dotted with beautiful buildings, gardens, and art installations that reflect Tagore’s vision of holistic education. Visit the Uttarayan complex, where Tagore lived and worked, and explore the Rabindra Bhavan museum, which houses a collection of his manuscripts, letters, and personal belongings. Shantiniketan is also famous for its vibrant festivals, including Poush Mela and Basanta Utsav, where you can experience traditional music, dance, and crafts.

5. Kalimpong: The Scenic Retreat

Nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas, Kalimpong is a quaint hill station that offers a peaceful escape from the hustle and bustle of city life. The town is known for its scenic beauty, pleasant climate, and rich cultural heritage. Visit the Zang Dhok Palri Phodang Monastery, a significant religious site that offers panoramic views of the surrounding hills. The town is also famous for its nurseries, which grow a variety of exotic flowers, including orchids and cacti. Take a stroll through the local markets to shop for traditional handicrafts, Tibetan jewelry, and homemade pickles. Kalimpong’s serene environment and charming atmosphere make it an ideal destination for relaxation and rejuvenation.

6. Murshidabad: The Historical Gem

For history buffs, Murshidabad is a treasure trove of historical landmarks and architectural marvels. Located on the banks of the Bhagirathi River, Murshidabad was once the capital of Bengal and is home to several monuments that reflect its rich past. Visit the Hazarduari Palace, a grand structure with a thousand doors, which now serves as a museum housing a vast collection of artifacts, including weapons, paintings, and manuscripts. The Katra Mosque, built in the 18th century, is another architectural gem worth exploring. Murshidabad’s historical significance, combined with its scenic beauty, makes it a fascinating destination for those interested in India’s heritage.

Conclusion

West Bengal is a state that offers a diverse range of experiences, from the cultural vibrancy of Kolkata to the serene beauty of the Himalayas. Whether you’re exploring the tea gardens of Darjeeling, the mangrove forests of the Sundarbans, or the artistic haven of Shantiniketan, each destination promises a unique and memorable experience. As you plan your trip to West Bengal, Kankidham Lords Inn Kanki welcomes you to enjoy comfortable and luxurious accommodations that will serve as the perfect base for your adventures. Discover the charm of West Bengal and create memories that will last a lifetime.

[akan175]

Exploring the Charms of Vietnam: Da Nang and Con Dao

Vietnam, with its rich history, stunning landscapes, and vibrant culture, has become a favorite destination for travelers seeking unforgettable experiences. Two gems that stand out in this diverse country are Da Nang and Con Dao. Let's delve into the unique attractions and activities that make these destinations truly special.

Da Nang, located along the central coast of Vietnam, boasts a perfect blend of natural beauty and urban charm. The Marble Mountains, a cluster of five limestone hills, offer a captivating landscape of caves, pagodas, and breathtaking viewpoints. Visitors can explore the intricate cave networks and marvel at the intricate Buddhist shrines tucked away within these ancient formations. Another iconic landmark in Da Nang is the Dragon Bridge, renowned for its dazzling displays and symbolic significance. Watching the bridge illuminate the night sky with its vibrant colors is an unforgettable experience.

For those seeking relaxation, Da Nang's My Khe Beach beckons with its golden sands and azure waters. Whether you're soaking up the sun, swimming in the gentle waves, or enjoying water sports like surfing and snorkeling, this pristine beach offers the perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of city life. To delve deeper into Vietnam's history and culture, a visit to the Museum of Cham Sculpture is a must. Home to the world's largest collection of Cham artifacts, the museum provides insight into this ancient civilization's art, architecture, and religious practices.

In contrast, Con Dao offers a serene escape into nature's embrace. This archipelago, located off the southern coast of Vietnam, is renowned for its unspoiled beauty and rich biodiversity. One of the most poignant sites on Con Dao is the Con Dao Prison, a reminder of the island's dark past as a colonial-era penal colony. Visitors can explore the prison's haunting remnants and learn about the hardships endured by political prisoners during Vietnam's struggle for independence.

Beyond its historical significance, Con Dao captivates with its pristine beaches, secluded coves, and vibrant coral reefs. Snorkeling and diving enthusiasts will be delighted by the underwater wonders of Con Dao's marine parks, where colorful fish, majestic sea turtles, and vibrant coral formations abound. For those seeking adventure on land, Con Dao National Park offers a network of hiking trails through lush forests, leading to scenic viewpoints and hidden waterfalls.

Whether you're exploring the cultural landmarks of Da Nang or immersing yourself in the natural beauty of Con Dao, Vietnam promises a journey filled with discovery and wonder. From ancient temples and historical sites to idyllic beaches and pristine wilderness, these destinations offer something for every traveler. So pack your bags, embark on an adventure, and let Vietnam's charms mesmerize you.

[gunelle]

@pedromcbride

1-. Grand Canyon

2-. Great Pyramids of Giza loom on the outskirts of Cairo, Egipto

3-. The Colorado River inside the Grand Canyon

4-. When water and time link arms - grand things can happen. Dropping into the magical abyss of the Grand Canyon to document the life of one who helped keep this national park un-dammed

5-. Wild mountain goat

6-. Aerial view of the abyss - Marble Canyon of the Grand Canyon National Park

7-. Blue Moon glows over the Maroon Bells Wilderness Area. Colorado

8-. Marble Canyon of the Grand Canyon National Park

9-. Morning mist over a lazy Colorado River oxbow

10-. The fist crack of light kisses the Maroon Bells

11-. Sharky waters — South Pacific Tuamotu archipelago

12-. A female lion splashes toward a wild dog kill in the Okavanga Delta of Bostwana. Africa

13-. A lion cub keeps a close eye on her mother in the Okavango Delta of Botswana