#and by educating beginning farmers and gardeners of all ages.

[love-bokumono-fics]

Fresh Crops! May 1 - May 7, 2023

This week's newest stories and chapter updates for Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons on AO3!

Toy Flower - by Shadowsrose; WIP, 1/?, 2.5k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: A Wonderful Life Relationships: Pete | Jack/Celia | Seperia, Marlin | Mash/Celia | Seperia; Characters: Pete | Jack, Celia | Seperia, Marlin | Mash, Vesta, Takakura, Original Male Character(s), Other Character Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Drama, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff Summary: Celia is a young woman that has a passion for gardening and has a lot of love in her heart to give. Problems start to arise, however, when she finds herself falling in love with Jack, the new farmer in town; her family is trying to arrange a marriage for her with a man she doesn't really like, and her co-worker, Marlin, is beginning to show that his feelings for her may go beyond friendship. With three men vying for her attention, she'll have to look deep down within herself to find what is most important to her.

I'd Make You Fall In Love With Me All Over Again - by astralirium; WIP, 1/?, <1k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: Save the Homeland Relationship: Lyla the Florist/Toy; Characters: Lyla the Florist, Toy Additional Tags: Time Loop Summary: When Toy came to Sugar Village, he became enamored with the owner of the flower shop, Lyla. They shared a lovely relationship together. But when spring came, Toy was forgotten by the entire village, including Lyla.

Katakan Yes, Please! - by Villainien; WIP, 1/?, <1k; Language: Bahasa Indonesia

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M Fandoms: Back To Nature, Friends of Mineral Town Relationship: Claire the Farmer & Pete | Jack; Characters: Pete | Jack, Rick, Kai, Doctor | Trent, Cliff, Gray, Claire Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Romance, Friendship, Absurd, Mention of Karen/Rick, Comedy, Rick and Karen are married Summary: Kira-kira gimana ya caranya Young Men Squad of Mineral Town membantu Jack dalam mendapatkan cinta Claire?

The Shy Newcomer | Fanimation - by DreamingHearts, durotos; WIP, 1/?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: F/M, Multi Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town Relationship: Claire the Farmer/Cliff; Characters: Claire, Cliff, Gray, Ann the Innkeeper | Ran, Karen, Kai Additional Tags: Slice of Life, Romance, Coming of Age, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Pairings, Mental Instability, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism Summary: Claire, aching for something new in life, moves to Mineral Town and realizes at once that she has left everything she has ever known. At heart, a story about a young woman discovering that there is more to life if she just looks around her. A story of true love, friendship, hard work, and being part of something bigger than yourself. A fanimation created by Dreaming Hearts. Made with RPG Maker MV.

The Heart of a Westown Cowboy - by Mya_Stone; WIP, 19/?, 27k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandom: Trio of Towns Relationship: Female Farmer/Wayne; Characters: Frank, Ford, Carrie, Brad, Megan, Hector, Colin, Daryl | Darius, Marlena, Lynn, Wayne, Miranda Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Guy Falls First, family drama, I Wrote This For Me But I'll Share It With You Summary: Wayne is Westown's perpetually single lady's man. He'd like to settle down but he just hasn't found The One and he's fairly certain he's met everyone in town. Then Melody moves in, taking a plot of her uncle's ranch to fulfill her dream of being a rancher. A college-educated business woman, Melody doesn't accept failure - especially not her own. As Wayne falls hard for her, she struggles to return his affections until she has what she came for - and when she continually comes up short at the cow competitions, she begins to wonder if Westown is really the place for her. A slightly more realistic, less cartoony take on Wayne's romance.

[sassyduckbeard]

10 Wrong Answers to Common how to grow hemp Questions: Do You Know the Right Ones?

Some Of Industrial Hemp Frequently Ask Questions - Plants

Table of ContentsThe Greatest Guide To Hemp And Eligibility For Usda ProgramsGetting My What Farmers Need To Know About Growing Hemp To WorkAbout Industrial Hemp Frequently Ask Questions - Plants

Like any other point our experts elevate in the USA, it will be a commodity at some aspect. I think our experts have actually merely moved the idea of the iceberg on need. how to grow hemp in a greenhouse. Those people that have actually made use of CBD oil or have relative who have utilized it have actually seen some quite fantastic health and wellness reactions.

The second lane in the commercial hemp globe, the traditional side, will definitely be the mainstream agricultural side. Industrial hemp is visiting be actually grown for meals, feed, fuel, creating materials, and much more (fields of hemp). Much in a different way. On the CBD edge, you have 1,000 to 1,600 vegetations per acre, grown and also often tended to as distinct vegetations (how to grow hemp from seed).

It grows tall as well as you gather the leadings for seed manufacturing and also then make use of the stalk for an amount of industrial reasons. Initially, you need to remain in a state where it is actually legal (how to grow hemp in a greenhouse). There are actually nine states that have actually certainly not approved it however,, consisting of Iowa. When the USDA produces federal government specifications with the 2018 Ranch Expense, each state will certainly submit a prepare for approval.

Part 7606 as written and executed in the last ranch measure stays the unwritten law while our experts are passing regulations of the 2018 proposal. Due to the fact that of the federal authorities furlough, there have not been actually any task on this given that the finalizing of the bill. This can move on for months - how long does it take to grow hemp.

Hemp And Eligibility For Usda Programs Things To Know Before You Buy

The aged rules are going to permit the market to increase rapidly. Education is our big problem. We possess nationwide institutions targeting proposal as well as policy, yet our company possess work to perform on the instructional side. Our experts are actually connecting to the national corn and soybean affiliations, because if we are visiting possess significant property it's heading to originate from those camps.

Hemp makes premium oil and healthy protein products, plus our company obtain the bonus of textiles. hemp biomass. Our team make thread, oil, and also healthy protein - how long does it take to grow hemp. There is actually a developing buyer market, even an advantageous market, for hemp-derived items. If our company create the important investments in commercial infrastructure to expand these acres, I am actually persuaded the marketplace requirement is there for a hemp-based set of products.

Some lobbyists have actually created an irrational enthusiasm concerning where our company go to today (how to grow hemp seed). We go to the beginning gate - hemp garden. Right now the difficult job of framework, market progression, and also advertising starts. how to grow hemp indoors. I'm definitely confident regarding the future, yet our experts are still at straight one. Our experts are going to construct these domestic and also global export opportunities for hemp, however our team possess a considerable amount of work before us.

Our company should acquire insurance coverage and also banking in place. The financial neighborhood is still certainly not truly certain regarding this. We are actually certainly not going to acquire out of the gate without possessing those troubles resolved. The farm expense coaches risk-management companies to get an insurance coverage item in location. Thus, the insurance coverage item needs to become addressed and our experts require to make the banking planet comfy.

All about Industrial Hemp Frequently Ask Questions - Plants

It is actually the only united state ranch in 2018 to grow a field celebrating the 80th wedding anniversary of the enactment of the Marijuana Tax Obligation Action of 1937.

A step-by-step quick guide may be actually discovered under Related Funds to the right - how to grow hemp. The requirements for importing hemp seed in to the united state have lately changed. how to grow hemp in a greenhouse. This implies that seed may be actually delivered right into the country without a DEA Bring In License. There may be actually various other needs for importing hemp biomass seed; please get in touch with the seed supplier for additional information.

3%. Raisers are actually not called for to obtain certified seed - how to identify hemp plant. There were actually a few assortments of qualified hemp seed grown in North Dakota in 2015. Please get in touch with the North Dakota Condition Seed Department for relevant information on these selections. Duplicates or younger hemp plants may be caused into the state. how to grow hemp seed. There are actually no added demands - can i grow hemp in my backyard.

[sunfloweroranges]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕕 ℍ𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘   𝒮𝓊𝓀𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝓍 𝓃𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳⁱᶜᵃˡ|ᶠᵃⁿᵗᵃˢʸ ᵃᵘ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 Ⅰ

𝐀/𝐍 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 [𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚋] · 𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢|𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝚂𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎 · 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘���� 𝚘𝚏𝚌 · 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷𝟷𝚔 · 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜 (𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜), 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎/𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 · 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

ℙ𝕥 𝕀 | ℙ𝕥 𝕀𝕀

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

 · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Gazing down, between pale clouds, floating along the winds of the wild sea, coast emerged in its waves.. Japan was a land of art, invention, culture, tradition, truth be told, this realm wasn’t normal, laced with things, beings called curses, land where the thought of men could create powerful monsters, where hate seeped into creation leading to demise or redemption… This province, decorated with mountains in which resided creatures most men feared to think of, cut with rivers, flowing with hills, made of beauty, heritage, decorated with shrines, some old forgotten, rundown and taken back by earth itself, some vividly colored, decorating the ground they were resting upon, risen in praise to gods men believed, risen for protectors, for those who bless with good harvest, which carry victory for its prefecture. This motherland which contained so much beauty so many stories associated with every mountain, every river, even a rock under which resided a spirit providing safe travel, all of that spun from the mind of men, their stories, myths, their conceptions....

· · · · · With a flutter of dark wings, a bird of prey circled one of the fields looking out for pests rummaging in the yearly yield of food for a nearby settlement, in the field worked people, with big straw hats protecting their heads from sun, which slowly rose from behind one of the magnificent mountains that enriched the view from the village.They weren’t the only ones that rose with the warm rays, the animals, their caregivers, the people gathering themselves to go off on a journey far deeper into the land of cherry blossom, with them rose students, in this quite big village, named Tokyo by the prefectures governor Yuga, under care of few, Lead by Nanami Kento, a land owner, respected for his knowledge and sober, clear judgment, people lived prospering lives, educated to the role assigned in their lives by fate, fate which looks unclear until someone, someone like villages takusen or oracle as they were called, cleared their clouded fates and set them on clear path of life..

To become one of the roles, people with their fates leading them to be, either farmers, caregivers, healers, governors or oracles, they were taught, from youngest of ages, taken into schools, to learn the sacred knowledge of their path, this was the tradition after all, though some paths were clearer than others.. which ones? The perfect example would be one of Twins, two humans born of one woman in the same day or night, how were their paths clear already? You see, there’s this thing everyone here has for tradition, legends and mysticism, twins are one of the more buzzing subject, their existence tied to mankind. Every prefecture, every village, had their own word on it, here in Tokyo twins were a dual flame, thought of as one spirit separated into two bodies, with their approach to life being- good always comes first, they thought out their own look..

· · · · · ℌ𝔲𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔡𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔱, 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔰𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔴𝔬. 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤- 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔩𝔢𝔡𝔤𝔢, 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔶, 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔲𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔶, 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱, 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡, 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢.. 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔡.. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔰- 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔨𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔞𝔰 𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢- 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔬𝔣 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰, 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔭𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔬. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥, 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞 𝔴𝔢𝔞𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔫 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡, 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔠𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱.. 𝔗𝔴𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔶, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔢𝔫- 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡, 𝔬𝔟𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯, 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔡𝔲𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔞 𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔢, 𝔟𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔴𝔬 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔢𝔱𝔶..”

With a small shuffle of pages and hands tracing down virtuous letters came a sigh “Well, that’s just harsh don’t you think Kugisaki?” a tired voice brushed through the morning air, two people sat on velvet pillows by a small table, one known by the village, born and raised here in Tokyo, the other.. had a more patchy story, being adopted by a group of scholars when found on the libraries doorstep. “Why?” A bored tone responded, Nobara was staring blankly at the pages full of scribbled in rush notes not even reading them properly, her shorter hair fell messily still not fully settled after a good night’s rest /s. The two were sleep derivated, not only them, almost everyone with maybe a few exceptions, everyone in this year was close to the final exam, the test that would truly determine if their fate was to become a villages miko or takusen.

“People aren’t plain black or white..” y/n spoke with a saddened tone, there they go again, Nobara rolled her eyes and turned her head towards her dear friend, her hand placed down the small notebook, closing it which just proved the theory, Kugisaki wasn’t really learning but just staring at her notes. Y/n sighed and shook their head, there was one thing they knew, how pointless miko or takusen names were, why not just call them oracles? After all they were believed to have both spirit parts, masculine and feminine, if one wanted to become the master oracle their parts should balanced like the lives of twins are.. “You know we can’t go against sacred texts, it’s just what we have to remember.. Knowing only one of us will become the oracle..” Nobara added with little to no hope of actually passing, she already looked into her fate with one of Tokyo’s smaller miko’s, just so she would have the security and clarity of what comes next.

While these words fell Y/n got up from their seat and looked to the beautiful landscape stretching out before their e/c eyes, mountains, countless buildings, some being homes, some small temples, some stores, y/n could never understand how Tokyo was still called a village with the amount of people and the sheer size of it, but what do they knew about governing over land, they were no Yuga nor Nanami to know anything about it, their specialization was in spirits, curses, the mystical side of their land.

Their train of thought was disturbed by their wary eyes catching a glimpse of a flock of birds startled by something, their brows furrowed a little with confusion.. With a moment of thinking y/n came to a conclusion that it was no other but the temple of Tokyo’s head takusen, the most powerful of all, not only in their prefecture, but in the whole sacred province of Japan, Sukuna. The same one that was to take in one of their group in a month or so, when the final test decides who is worthy of working beside the King of Curses, as they called him.

· · · · · On the other side of Tokyo, in a peaceful temple, with beautiful garden right by a calm porch sat no other, but the powerful King of Curses himself, in his favorite white gown embedded with most expensive purples on its hems, sipping on a morning tea before his work would begin, already knowing waves of sorcering warriors would come pleading for him to work their skin, give them power and resistance to fight against enemy, whether it be curse or men. This lovely and most probably the calmest of moments in takusen’s day was cut short by a very particular lanky man, dressed in black with the most annoying voice making the pink haired man want to rip his ears off. “Sukuna!~” All too familiar mess of white hair poked out from behind a corner, this startling a flock of birds from one of the cherry trees and earning just a click of tongue from the tattooed male which just about spilled half of his green tea. “What the hell do you want?” His words were sharp, honestly Gojo was pretty sure everything was, his nails, eyes, even his hair though looking like it was taken care of, if one would dare and touch it their fingers would be cut off. “How harsh” The blindfolded man theatrically clutched his chest, as if pretending to be hurt, though both of them knew that it couldn’t happen, not with how much power the annoying man possessed. “You never come here without a demand, what is it?” Sukuna spoke sparing a glance to the other which rushed over with an idiotic smile he wanted to slap off of this pale face..

While Sukuna wiped dry a small table on which he spilled the tea, Gojo humming sat down and rested his head on one of his hands, a sly smile evident on his face, of course he wanted something, he wanted to see precisely, he wanted to watch The Final Test of the oracle students, but this was a month from now. He already waited 10 years! A decade!! Do you know how excited do you have to be when the one time you’ve seen this miracle show of a test you’ve been 19 and didn’t give a shit about it?! But Gojo had a plan, a plan that was foolproof, doomed to succeed with just a few words.. “Kyotos Miko said you’re weak.” That’s it. A pair of two ruby eyes sparkling with rage fell onto the blindfolded man..

“Oho, but don’t worry, no one questioned your mastery, she questioned, or rather, challenged your ability to ‘teach the mastery of curse tattoo’s to a hatchling’” The man rose his hands in ‘I didn’t do anything’ position. Gojo felt like Sukuna would burst this second if he didn’t calm it a little, his plan might’ve worked just a tiniest bit too well. “Eh? Teaching ability? Who is that bitch..“ The strawberry haired man was stopped from getting up by a lanky hand on his shoulder “Now now, we both know you wouldn’t let your reputatuion suffer, nor let anyone question your power right? But you don’t have any new apprentices, not until next month’s test-“ “The Ceremony is happening tonight.”

Sukuna’s words cut off Gojo which couldn’t help but internally smile like an idiot, his plan worked so much so the most powerful King of Curses made such a decision on a whim, not like the blindfolded man didn’t like it, he loved this idea, he got what he wanted, surprisingly so. Improving his bluffing skills could be checked off of his bucket list for this year. Sukuna got up brushing the white haired males stick-like hand off of his shoulder “Go and tell them already, preparations have to start immediately.” The sly sorcerer didn’t need to be told twice and was gone with the wind as soon as Ryomen finished his sentence.

· · · · · Before Nobara could take a peek through Y/n’s notes, or them even opening their lips to scold their friend for it, the door to the shared dorm flung open, behind them ever so excited Gojo-sensei which seemed to buzz with enthusiasm, which definitely was not reflected by his students which tiredly crawled out of their dorms as their morning calmness was disturbed by their dear teacher. “Y/n, Nobara, go to the outside training field, I’ll meet you there when I gather everyone else.” With those words the white haired man disappeared, something was weird, the sudden spike in their sensei’s eagerness felt off for probably everyone who wasn’t half asleep while walking to the training ground.

The news of sudden, pretty big move of a very important event spread like wildfire, the town having barely woken up was suddenly buzzing with preparations, the streets slowly decorated with vividly colored lampions and flags, tapestries hung out, even animals treated to a good bath and dressed in their best decorative gear, everyone though suddenly rushing tried their best. Nanami, the land owner which probably could be the only one to stop such sudden not well thought out decision seemed to keep silent and move on to assisting and cooperating the giant event that had the whole prefecture keep their eyes on Tokyo which transformed from one moment to another into the most lively, colorful, celebrating village of Japan.

“The big test, your final exam, is moved to...!” Gojo-sensei stood in front of a group of almost 20 half awake students jumping around and moving his hands in a drumroll motion “TONIGHT!!” this word was enough to wake every single one of the students “EEEHHHH?!” “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me..” Y/n whined while Nobara had a hard time gathering her jaw from the floor “Ah ah, language dear y/n-chan~!” Came from the white haired teacher which probably just earned a few more enemies in his class, what a love- hate relationship he had with the class, but who cares?! He was about to witness the greatest festival of them all, The Final Test!

“Now now, everyone calm down! I know you’re excited but there’s a lot to work for! I’ve already prepared a schedule ahead, that was supposed to happen in a month but here we are~” Gojo pulled out a stack of papers seemingly out of nowhere, or everyone was just too tired to notice where they came from but it didn’t matter. The white haired man handed out everyone a single paper which contained a full schedule “The ceremony will start at 10pm! Of course the carnival part will begin two hours earlier, can’t let any kids miss it and bedtime’s at sunset!” Gojo spoke with some weird spark going out of his, probably winking eye which was covered by a blindfold. “Of course I had to change a few things, in a moment you’ll be served breakfast, after that you’ll have two review periods, one for theory the other for practical skills, between them you’ll have a short break to change, since you’ve been split into four groups, two first will have theory then practical reviewing, while the other will have practical and then theoretical periods.”

Now that was a lot of information to take in from the very morning, while Gojo rambled on explaining everything Y/n felt the stress build up, they were close to the top of the class yet the dread of The final exam loomed over their shoulder for a while making them anxious over their performance, this was no joke as Gojo-sensei has repeated between his ramblings.. A shaky breath left their parted lips which felt extra dry now “Alright, that will be all, remember that after dinner there will be a big 3 hour period for practical test and then right after theoretical, no one wants to miss the carnival right? Lovely, now go off, I’ll be meeting all of you here after the meal where we’ll part into two groups!” This felt like a damned summer camp, but demanding like an army training, after all, Gojo was sorcerer warriors commander, y/n had no idea why this guy was in charge of them, but there was no time, everyone had to focus and pull whatever was left of their energy to perform their best.

· · · · · Now the whole day was a rush for everyone, but that didn’t mean that the preparations were half assed, this actually was the opposite, even more attention was given to details, paper and straw figures emerged from under hands of common folk, more intricate decorations or costumes were woven or taken out of their storages in the higher parts of Tokyo, dances and theatrical stunts were practiced. The big event was planned since last year’s summer, yet this one month less, and sudden need of perfection within ONE day was something that truly hasn’t happened ever in the history of any prefecture.. Sukuna’s sudden order shocked the higher up’s but none could protest, whether it be because they feared the head takusen or enjoyed the big event and wanted to see it happen, after all it would trade for one month more of calmness between these once in a decade event.

While in the sorcerer school last year students reviewed all their skills, from intricate designs being pierced into men skin, their design and placement to every miniscule detail, as the speed of each poke, as the ingredients of their tools, from ink to the twine that tied together a sharp point that pierced the skin and a stick held by the oracle. Y/n luckily ended up in the first group which got to theoretical review first, this let them read up on everything they felt a little unsure in, of course the groups weren’t left unsupervised like Gojo would probably leave it be. Nanami Kento himself appeared in the school, being one of the scholars that adopted y/n he was like their father, his presence gave somewhat comfort with a big dose of weight, as if making those which still couldn’t believe it too well, how serious the situation was.

Nobara ended up in something she liked much more, which was kicking ass of weak curses beside the practical application of temporary boosts, which were tattoos applied with special paste and sealed in for a specific amount of time with cursed energy the students learned to harness in around 10 years of their 20 year long education, everyone had their own specific way of harnessing the energy, of applying it to each task, from sealing the paste on an object such as a rock to defending themselves with their cursed tools. Nobara was a blunt woman, and so was her tool, using a hammer, or two, no one was really sure how many she had in her possession, but many feared them, even the rubber squeaky hammer she used most often while practicing the fighting techniques with other students.

“𝔈𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔫𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔢 𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔭𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔡, 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔩𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔯𝔶  𝔰𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔟𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔩𝔰, 𝔠𝔲𝔱𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔬𝔞𝔩, 𝔟𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔫, 𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔩 (𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔷𝔢 𝔬𝔯 𝔤𝔬𝔩𝔡) 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔫. 𝔓𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫, 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱’𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬.” With a sigh y/n brushed their fingers through loose strands in their brushed back hair, focused like their life depended on it- because it very much did, they knew just bits and pieces of what awaited, they knew they had to remember each tools usage. That using a young rose thorn and charcoal/eggshell ink provided best working vigor, stamina tattoos rather than using an old thorn and ink made of charred bone which provided agility and core strength to the subject. So much information and so little time to actually fully repeat every single thing. Some students overwhelmed themselves while trying to repeat every single thing, y/n kept to an advice they were given by Nanami-sensei at the very beginning of their journey ‘complete a list with your weaknesses before each test, better yet, every week, and practice over those areas, focus on your weakness instead of repeating things you’ve already caught a proper grasp on.’ Their e/c eyes scanned over their complied notes and the list that was almost halfway checked out, time flew by when one dreaded what was to come.

· · · · · The break that gave the four groups just enough time to gather themselves up, change and attend the opposite groups activity, came too early for y/n’s liking, but they couldn’t do anything, just push themselves just a little more, striving for this, they worked for this for 20 years, this was their fate, everyone here had the same fate, but the result depended on this night, on today, how the hours passes painfully struck these which worked till blood, sweat and tears would mix into success. From sparring between students, alone, in pairs, groups, against each other, against curses, to applications of their knowledge, painting barriers of infinity taught by Gojo-sensei who seemed to master the art of being untouchable, working on their permanent applications on things that weren’t as alive. Gojo made it clear “This is nowhere near what the real skin worked on feels like, as you know having had a chance to feel live skin under your hands! Be prepared to work on skin that you’ve never felt before.” Of course Gojo didn’t know much, but various miko’s and takusen’s gathered and taught individually every single student, from advice to practical showcase of their art.

Sitting in their work gowns every student of the group on a special outdoor desk worked off on what they were given, practicing from simple paper sigils that turned into sparkling butterflies that would light the night sky like starts before fading with the wind to applying temporary tattoos to the carnival animals, such as horses making their appearance so much brighter and eye catching, or giving the nervous ones a light help with a few strokes of a brush that let the animal feel tranquil for the night.

Y/n worked on one of the fruits, with a slender stick made of cherry trees young branch finished with silk thread that held 3 bronze needles on its end, these were one of the more fancy tools, but knowledge of their use was important, a desk over worked one of y/n’s classmates, she held a chestnut stick and a birch rod to which on a 90 degree angle were fixed dried thorns, with light taps of the chestnut stick the woman worked away on the skin of a pumpkin creating one of the most intricate designs one would lay their eyes on, Yukine was the very top of the class after all, no one expected any less.

· · · · · The pressure was immense in the sparring y/n almost losing to their classmate in one on one spare, before remembering that, only killing wasn’t allowed, they used a long stick against a katana of choice of their opponent, this could end bloody but, after all, all tricks were allowed, their e/c focused on their opponents forehead which was hit by invisible burst of cursed energy from y/n, giving them the advantage of shock and tumbling back of their opponent to make a move, flinging the long rod around just to point it at the students throat as he laid on the ground defenseless, point for them, winning this one on one spare y/n set their weapon aside and offered their hand to help the other up…

This may have been a competition but it didn’t mean they hated each other all the time, sure an outcast happened from time to time, but cooperation and bonds with other students were important, as much power as they could harness turning a weak old man into a vigorous giant dragon, one person would never amount to cooperation between works of miko’s and takusen’s, unless you were Sukuna, the one ‘human’ that was able to create spells groups of four couldn’t amount to in power. Cooperation here was key, and they had to know it, take it into account as much as the balance of self within them, whenever they had the chance, fighting or working in pairs or more, they needed to work it out in a way that they would perform best, ‘otherwise they were as good as dead’ harsh but painfully true words that were repeated by probably every single teacher of theirs.

Y/n helped the classmate up “Good fight Seto-kun, but you leave yourself open to other tricks!” Gojo spoke from the side of the sparring ground. Seto nodded to his sensei and left the rink, y/n would face another person, a winner of their own spare, this elimination lead by Gojo’s somehow comprehensive thinking to picking out the weaknesses of his students as well as seeing who was the most capable of combat in this, human on human sparring. Y/n was lucky ending up in top 5 of the students, Yukine, the top class student won the first spot in this group. All of this sparring let the students work on their weaknesses, for y/n it was focusing on disarming their opponent first, without going into much defense or offence, this lead to minutes on end y/n trying to confuse their opponent with no success, which lead to stress and mistakes resulting in their loose.

· · · · · The cool water after countless sparring till they fail was just what y/n needed, the refreshing sip felt like a blessing cooling their hurting lungs and dry throat, sweat glistened on their forehead, just to be wiped off with a small towel, each student had those, it was nice they were given them alongside the water. Y/n’s eyes observed the top 3 students spar against each other from the side, they sighed wiping their nape of sweat, their attire was soaked too, luckily the students will get enough time to have a wash before dinner, today was going to be full of preparations, from here Y/n could see how Tokyo slowly was decorated colorfully. The training  grounds filled with people, changing their activities preparing for the big test right after.

With a blow of refreshing cool wind a brass bell was rung by one of the miko’s calling everyone to the diner to eat what would be their last meal till the carnival to which they still had 7 hours, this first 5 hour period was a pain, imagine now a 6 hour one after this.. Y/n groaned softly realizing how much work was still ahead, the adrenaline still buzzing in their veins seemed to dull the stress for this moment, but surely not for much longer.. They got up and picked up their bo staff putting it on their shoulder, minding everyone around of course, don’t want this stick stuck in anyone’s eye. Y/n deposited the staff with everyone else at the racks where the weapons were taken by school personnel, a luxury in this school.

· · · · · While students of the oracle school worked away on their reviewing and polishing their skills, other schools gathered to help with organizations of the main arena, where the tests would be performed, they worked in a specially build spot, which had beautiful engraved, art in itself, stone walls, which had one entrance for public only and one secret entrance for the participants, which lead underground and into the specially build storage house behind the arena. It had to be cleaned, as if woken up from its slumber, a decade of bare minimum cleaning showed the lack of usage, but it just showed how important the oracles and this Final Test was to the prefecture. People worked on the field, cleaning out any weeds that outgrew a garden that was settled in the arena, which itself was giant, fitting probably all of Tokyo inside its walls, all for 20-30 students of oracle school each decade.

Within these walls were three areas, two similar in size, one being a clean fight rink, the other being a wild garden, that grew in such a way it looked like a piece of wild forest was taken and planted within these walls, the last area, which was smaller, was used as a tattooing space, all of the equipment, such as stools or tables were brung in from the storage house at the back of the arena, which while cleaned was also decorated by students of the art school, with banners, flowers from florists whatever they could find fitting. The fighting area of the ground would be also used as a performance spot before the final test would begin. Every person participating in the parade would end up going to the arena, where they would perform, whether it be theatrical, musical or gymnastic stunts, it all finished here. From this arena they could go to the storage house, which had a fenced off area for the carnival animals to rest in while the Final Test was wtached by Tokyo folks.

The walls were put into sections, for common folk, for scholars, for orchestra which would provide the lovely atmosphere of the arena, and the last section which was right above the main gates, the oracle section, where miko’s, takusen’s and Sukuna himself would be seated, in the same area a little above them the leaders of Tokyo would be seated, because of such rush Yuga could not appear in this decades show, but his prefecture had its own show, he couldn’t complain about missing this one. Nanami left the school while the students of the school were dining, and now a few hours later was the head decision maker to the preparations of the arena, his assistants were send out around Tokyo to look over everything else, the parade, the streets, even the shops and small stalls set up for the carnival itself...

· · · · · Once the sky turned from blues to reds which faded into black, when the sun dipped down behind the horizon and the sky was littered with shimmering stars, once the roads to all nearby temples were lit with sacred fires of their gods, Tokyo began its carnival, music played down in every corner of the colorful village, people like ants flooded the streets, from children to elders, everyone gathering to watch the event which they so carefully prepared.. Now that everything was done, every street beautifully decorated, every performance polished to perfection, the fun, the dance, the singing began.

Paper puppets in shapes of flying majestic dragons swirled around above onlookers head, music and bustle rung in everyone’s ears, food sold in stalls made in a way it looked like a performance itself, with fire lit beneath big iron plates or bowls, with sweet caramel like syrup hardening once swirled in shapes of fish or animals for the children to wonder at and enjoy the sweetness of, with ingredients being swirled and thrown in the air while fried, the streets came to life more than ever..

The students of oracle school finally went down from their school in the mountain, everyone dressed in their carnival robes, which they have had made by other students, students of the craftsman cast, most people took this as a break, as a time to rewind and join the common folk before they would be taken to their final test. Nobara and y/n stuck together, following instructions of their teachers to keep in groups or at least pairs, of course their arrival caused bustle, as much as they would want to just blend in, it was the day they all awaited.

“Look! Mum, look! Shamans!!” one of many children called to their mother which held her child close as the group went down the main street, people parting to make way for them, this felt really awkard for a few people in the group,, y/n included, but they tried not to let it show, holding themselves properly and smiling to the common folk, they were treated almost like a royalty. Y/n followed with the group, they were walking like so to the closest open space where usually people could find a market, but now in the circular spot waited for them the higher-ups, on their front stood Nanami, who was assigned to welcome them an wish them a moment to relax and good luck in their oncoming exam.

When finally, the formalities were done the students scattered around the carnival enjoying the most of it, Nobara and y/n went together to look at two things, the big red and white dragon performance y/n was so excited to see and to take a look at some stalls Nobara was interested in, they went almost hand in hand to make sure the crowd wouldn’t separate them. While caramel haired woman looked at jewelry in one of the stalls y/n watched with their lips slightly parted the swirling dragon to the music played by the artist which went down the street, while they watched a group of small kids approached, much to y/n’s dismay..

Y/n never really liked kids, they were fine, just over there and not here. The children started asking stuff about magic since they’ve seen y/n in the group of shaman students, they were blabbering yelling over each other asking questions that made y/n’s head ache, but they were prepared after their experience on other carnivals. They reached into their gown pocket and pulled out a small folded paper with beautiful swirling pattern on it, just when Nobara  turned to look y/n handed the paper to the children and spoke “If you want to see something magical, think of your favorite color and blow on the paper.” The children curious turned to discuss which color would be best to pick, using this moment y/n grabbed Nobara’s arm and dragged her away “O-oi, y/n!” she exclaimed a little surprised at the sudden escape.

A pair of crimson eyes followed the small interaction, Sukuna was here, and he observed the students which were to compete against each other in just a few hours time, his brows rose curiously when he saw a small paper be handed to a group of children just for the two students to flee the scene. He was about to look away but a burst of countless beautiful crimson and gold butterflies kept his gaze there for just a moment longer, lingering on the magical sigil creatures which illuminated the air around for a moment before falling apart in glitter like dust and fly away with the air...

· · · · · “Suku-“ A roar of flames suddenly appeared, just about saving the shaman from the annoying blindfolded male, for a moment everything looked as if the sun was still out- the deafening rumble of flame slowly died down another noise joined in, first drums slowly picking up speed as a big figure rolled in, an actor with a mask on, red faced man with long white hair, moustache and beard, dancing between live flames which bursted between his moves, other artists around operated the flames or played the wild music with drums and stringed instruments, a group of strong men carried the platform with the actor and behaved as a choir which was deafened by the flames as they yelled their war cries of some sort, this was a part of some big street performance as a few streets over another flame appeared and some other drums joined in, above the roofs towered a figure of a dragon swirling between flames.

Sukuna used that moment to walk away from the blindfolded man which was dressed surprisingly in something else than his atrocious tactical outfit which didn’t even resemble the traditional warriors clothes. The pink haired man was no different, dressed in a special occasion kimono of his- of course some people said these were for females- but who were they to dictate what he wore? The material of these was always so much softer and silky unlike the male gowns! Sukuna slipped past groups of people watching the performance from the side when he ensured Gojo was lost for a moment, a moment to let Sukuna calm down and not fight the annoying man.

With a small sigh the pink haired shaman headed down the streets and alleys, observing the students he saw, recognizing them by a sting of wooden beads on them, weather it be on their necks, on their wrists, ankles or tied to their clothing, this was a symbol all of them carried, each cast had their own symbol, this rosary of sorts was used for various things, mainly for meditation which the shamans performed before after and sometime even during their work- tattooing, imprinting the skin of their subject with sacred symbolisms, with 108 beads they were there to keep count of the prayers and mantras the shamans performed during their rituals.

Sukuna had his own, string of cherry wood beads on himself, usually he had it wrapped around his hand rubbing the beads or seemingly repeating mantras or praying on the daily just as he walked and did his thing, it was a small quirk of his, that special string of beads was made from a branch of a cherry tree Yuji and Sukuna planted over their parents graves deep in one of the mountains, with then a dangerous spread of curses, the two couldn’t visit the grave safely, this was something the shaman kept close to himself, somehow sentimental which wasn’t very known of the fearful king of curses.

· · · · ·

Y/n twirled a string of green sandal wood beads in their hand as they watched with anticipation the biggest performance going on now- the clash of two most powerful beings of the past! The special grade curse dragon and the greatest of shamans, one which could live with a flame flowing though his veins, the idol and admiration figure for all shaman students- these which of course had their path true and wanted to pursue the art of sharp point and ink embedded in skin infused with the magical part of the cursed energy. Their e/c eyes followed the movements of the figures, the flames that danced and licked onto the air around them, the music making y/n’s blood pump faster, they knew the whole story by heart, they were very passionate and loyal to their path, and yet every time this legend was depicted, talked of or shown in such awesome show, they couldn’t help but hold their breath with excitement.

Nobara also was there, well she just joined with two sticks of dango in her hand, one was handed to y/n with a small nudge to their shoulder “Hey- y/n you’re going to catch a fly if you keep your mouth open like that” The brown haired woman chuckled only for y/n to scoff and bite into the treat with a small hum, their eyes once more sticking to the figures which fought between flames, with deafening rumble of the fire and accompanying drums, the earth felt as if it was shaking, the whole performance was so intense l/n felt as if they were sucked back into the old times where it actually happened, the clash of the most powerful beings of their time…

The clash of the legends, this was the leading performance of the parade that slowly but surely moved towards The mountain, on which towered the arena, lit up with countless lamps, paper flying lanterns were lit and left to drift into the clear sky adding stars to it, from few places Y/n’s sigil butterflies appeared, some were from the kids, other were from them handing out a few papers to their classmates to wish upon when they saw a lampion falling, which symbolized a falling star to wish upon. Giant parade, filled with song, music, dances, colorful clothing’s, flowing creature puppets that seemed alive in the artists hands, they all moved towards their final destination… · · · · ·

The giant doors were opened, first to come in were the two fighting figures, which also positioned themselves in the centre of the arena continuing to fight, which symbolized the countless days the shaman had fought with the cursed dragon right here, where this arena was build over the corpse of the very cursed dragon which fell defeated and exorcised after 3 weeks and two days of the fight- this was what the legend spoke of anyway.. The arena filled with people, then came in one by one the other performers, which finished their gigs by the feet of the main two characters and disappeared into the back doors of the arena, where in one room all the students were preparing in a rush, they were changing their clothes and hair, long hair was to be tied in a very specific way, short hair had a special string braided into their strands.

Y/n felt their hands shake as they tied the last knot of their gown, the top was kimono like shirt, laying close to their skin, their chest bounded with bandages, which was the preferred way of y/n’s appearance, they felt more comfortable like so- The red string they tied was around their hips, keeping in place special pants, that when stood in looked almost skirt like, plaited black material was light and was made especially for what was to come, everyone had their uniform made to their needs. y/n had long sleeved top which provided cushion to their elbows and forearms, which were most exposed to painful hits of their bo staff, which was their weapon, which was the last to be picked up by them.

Nobara had a special belt like slot build into her gown which held the nails and hammer of hers, everyone was scrambling around, dressing up fixing their hair to make sure it didn’t fall loose during the first round of which they knew- it was the showcase of their fighting skills, this was what Gojo told them, they would fight in group, then pairs and then alone, all to show off how well they could adapt placed against curses with help or without it.. Y/n let out a shaky sigh as they tightened the band around their h/c hair. Their hand grabbed onto the staff and turned it to vertical position as not to bump into anyone, with a soft pat the staff rested against the guards of their gown, the adrenaline was getting to them, this felt so unreal their whole body shook, they weren’t alone either, someone ended up leaving their dinner in the changing room because of stress…

Y/n’s knuckles turned white as they gripped the staff, outside the roar of flames, the deafening drums and the cheers of the common folk, the whole Tokyo was out there, watching as the legendary shaman defeated the cursed dragon after 3 weeks and 2 days of non stop fight, as the dragon figure fell and the shaman actor rose his weapon the cheers got so loud l/n was pretty sure that the creatures within miles were awake. Fireworks were set off as the actor ‘dragged away’ the defeated dragon, with that the students were motioned to get out there, y/n felt their head spin for a moment as they saw everyone line up with their weapons by their sides, their hands felt cold, the throat tight but they put on a brave face and marched outside, just to be blinded with countless lampions, some floating, some hung, some held or set down on the railings, it was beautiful, but at the same time, completely terrifying…

As the 26 students lined up in front of the main gate, their eyes fell to the figure that rose from his seat, the head shaman, Sukuna, the glint in his crimson eyes as he scanned his plaything- students and soon to be judged apprentices, was piercing, y/n felt as if the air was knocked out of their chest as the pair of mischievous eyes lingered there while staring in their general direction. Sukuna approached the balcony like structure and when a special cone was placed near his mouth his lips parted to speak, the drums on the band side were soft but played in anticipation, truly the musicians were the masters of their path, especially in providing ten times more stress than necessary…

“Welcome, soon to be judged students, one of you will become miko or takusen, the one which will be granted to work alongside the master of their cast! I expect you to do your best, you climbed your way here, you followed your life’s path, time to prove which one of you is worthy! Let’s begin!~” Sukuna’s voice rumbled through the cone which somehow made his voice so much louder, ringing in y/n’s ears repeated ‘prove which one is worthy..’ their mind was somewhere else for a moment, their focus snapped back in place as soon as another voice rung through the surprisingly quiet arena- all of Tokyo was able to shut up in anticipation of what was going to happen. “First test! Showcase of cooperation fight against a high level curse!”

As the bald man in black gown spoke through the cone two groups of men came out from the back doors, each group had a caged curse which was contained for now, the 26 students were split into two groups, 13 people each against a high grade curse, the announcer wasn’t kidding, these curses were dangerous and everyone could feel it- a special veil was casted by group of miko’s and takusen’s which guarded the arena in case anything went wrong, the veil was see through from outside, but from inside it looked as if they had a black courtain pulled over the starless sky. The groups were to fight one after another against the two curses. The order of the groups was chosen by chance of picking out a paper from a bag and this determined which group was first- to Y/n’s demise or, most probably blessing in disguise they ended up in the first group, the first group to fight the high grade curse… · · · ·

The screeches were horrible, gurgling between inhuman roars, almost forming words as bones were cracked, the team worked to their best, they knew this could be the first and last test for them, Y/n clutched their staff which was covered in goo like liquid, supposedly the curses blood, the bastard was hard to kill even with such amount of people, two were already down, l/n didn’t even want to think why that one classmate hasn’t moved in a while, the adrenaline that rushed through their veins burned, it burned so much they were determined to save everyone else, they had some kind of formation, attacking, distracting the beast and attacking from another side, with another technique.

Y/n wiped the bit of blood that was splattered on their face by their classmate, who luckily didn’t loose an arm in this attack. They knew this wasn’t enough, their eyes scanned the area, covered in blood, kicked up dirt, in classmates that fought for their lives,  not even to pass the test, but to come out alive as the curse rampaged inside the arenas fighting ground, there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to wait out, nowhere to run, as the bodies crumbled, horrible cries of their classmates filled their ears, the beating of their heart in their ears felt deafening, almost dulling the loud crack of yet another leg-

Y/n barely spared a glance to one of the boys which tried to get up as their calf bend in half and yet another sickening yell tore through the air, this was a bloodbath that needed to stop.. They never imagined such thing would be happening, no one expected to die here, to loose an arm or  break each and every possible bone in their fragile body. L/n swallowed the bitter taste in their mouth before gathering the most of their sorrow in the densest controlled way, this fight has been going on for much too long- “Just STOP ALREADY!!” Y/n cried as their weapon flared with so much dense cursed energy people outside of the veil stared in shock, Sukuna rose his brows, this particular act of desperation was cute, but he didn’t think this was enough- oh how wrong he was, the blast of the cursed energy, the dense power that sliced right through the demon was enough to collapse the veil held by 8 masters of their cast.

The crimson eyes stared in shock at the figure which stood in the centre of what was a demon just a second ago, now being a splattered mess, Y/n was no different, holding their staff with white from pressure hands, their breath shook, as the dust fell to the ground everyone scrambled to prepare the next group, l/n felt as if they were about to pass out, their chest heaving as the kimono of theirs was now drenched in blood of their classmates, covered in dust and torn by vicious attacks of the by now non existing curse. With a deep shaky inhale Y/n twirled their staff to vertical position behind their arm and bowed to the judges before leaving the scene, the first group was now attended to medically and some were covered with black silk- this didn’t feel real, how did they let these monsters kill their classmates so easily?! They were here for 2 decades, living their lives up to this and yet- and yet..

Y/n clutched their head in their shaking hands, they knew some would have it so much harder later on, loosing fingers, hands, limbs and yet still forcing themselves to perform further, this was a disaster- Y/n ended up with a painful cut to their thigh which was a lucky one at the same time, a bit deeper and y/n would bleed out on the spot- everything was sewn back together, healed to the best extent of takusen’s which were to attend to the students medically, while miko’s prepared the fresh change of clothing and a bath- of course there would be a longer break for the students- those which would survive the first test..

Y/n looked to the boy that had a silk black material pulled over himself- Seto-kun ..Their breath hitched in their throat, this was the same guy they spared with just a few hours ago, their eyes watered, feeling sick, the realization hit them like not one but 17 cursed dragons at once. Y/n covered their lips as one of the takusen’s rushed over to replace the bleeding through bandages on their side and soothe the nausea with some herbal tea, sure it helped, but it somehow didn’t at the same time, seeing the pain, the reality of what fighting a grade one curse was.. Y/n’s mind wandered again, will they be exposed to pair and single fighting? They weren’t even sure if there will be enough people to pair with! This was sick- so so sick… · · · ·

After what felt like hours and at the same time just a few moments the remaining people of the two groups were summoned to the main arena again, from 26 people only 11 were left, some didn’t make it in fight, others were lost soon after the defeat of their opponent, everyone was cleaned, dressed in clean gowns once again, a few were missing limbs, two lost a part of their legs, one lost their whole arm, another lost fingers, other went half blind, they didn’t feel as much pain now, the reverse cursed techniques of the skilled takusen’s were enough to heal their injuries but not regrow their lost limbs, but they all had to perform their best, with new fresh scars, with new fresh traumas.. Their eyes once again fell onto the pink haired, crimson eyed tyran- shaman of the prefecture…

His voice rumbled once again, first, as if mockingly congratulating the students on passing the test, and then announcing “..Since most of the contestants have been, disposed of.. There isn’t a way to pair you accordingly for pair and single fights, most of you unable to perform to their fullest.” Sukuna’s eyes narrowed onto the lacking limbs of some of the students “These parts will be skipped, as you’ve been judged accordingly to your performance in the first, group fight.. Your next test is the performance of your skill with edge and ink.” As the shaman spoke, his hands hid in the sleeves of his kimono, a few people came down to the arena, one held a metal bowl with pieces of paper..

“Each one of you will come up and by chance have their work decided, each paper has a different work an effect assigned to it. The technique and tools are up to your, creation, you have to make your own tools, for gathering your materials you will be given time to explore this part of the arena, you’ll be able to find what you’re looking for if you know what you need.” Another, mocking smile appeared on Sukuna’s face, one that Y/n wanted to slap off of his face, they expect how quickly this idol of theirs, the figure they always looked up to, suddenly turned to the worst being that existed in their eyes.

Each student from right to left was choosing their topics, picking out with fate a paper that would either let them show their best side, or challenge their weaknesses… Y/n’s turn came, their name was called out and they stepped out of the line, no one had their weapons anymore, their hand reached into the brass bowl, the metal cold against their fingers as they caught one slip between their middle and pointer finger, they pulled the single piece out and unfolded it.. “Skin of steel, wise yet greedy, breath of fire with sharp scale. Impenetrable skin, fire breath” Y/n already thought of what they could create, what material to use and what inks, knowing all too well this wasn’t an easy one thing prompt, but two, and two which would definitely be tested, two which could easily lead to demise of their subject. Y/n folded the paper back and held it in their hand, nodding to the judges and bowing to the people in front of them before backing out into their spot in the line, watching and listening to everyone else’s prompts, a lot of them contained hinting at transformation, a complete one, which could be pulled off only by knowledgeable masters, was this some kind of a joke? Or was it truly what they as barely students could be capable of? · · · ·

All they were handed was a small knife and their weapon back, then they were given just a few moments to complete a list of what they needed, before they were let inside this forest in the arena, truly it was a part of the wild, once one entered they felt as if they were in another dimension, but this wasn’t the point, Y/n didn’t have time to admire the beauty of the wilderness contained inside this arena.. They had a list of ingredients, the set they needed was made of three tools and three types of inks, one of which was a paste. Y/n pushed through the bushes looking for just the right plant to take a branch from before stumbling on another piece they needed, a small box which contained a comb like formation of needles, three rows of 4 needles, they took the point and wandered deeper, they needed two more sharp points, a bronze blade and a steel needle, these were harder to find and it was also a rush against time, someone could’ve grabbed that exact blade y/n needed but they weren’t aware of it..

An hour passed, the shield of the full moon rose to its peak as the 11 students emerged from the wilderness with all or lacking a few ingredients, y/n was somehow lucky, able to have gotten all of the necessities to their tattoo, they found a little bronze blade, it definitely needed polishing, but they would be provided with a sharpening stone in their work station, as much of a beast Sukuna seemed to be for organizing this test, he made sure to provide enough things to make this part of the test at least a bit more civilized.. but of course, with that came the price of time..

Sukuna appeared once again on the balcony and spoke to the 11 students, which stood by the prepared stations with what they have gathered, form sharp points to twigs and stings to soil and fish blood for inks.. “You have  gathered your ingredients, time to create your tools, while making tools you have time to come up with your designs, come up with size, complexity and placement, on your subjects.” With his words a group of 11 warriors came down to the arena, they were dressed in only specially tied cloth around their hips, to keep most skin exposed, for the students to have the most of work space and planning they could have. Truly the pink haired shaman was cruel, work the ink, create the tools, design and plan out the tattoo at the same time?!

There was no time to complain though, they didn’t have all day, they honestly barely had any time, the test was supposed to be finished, and the final apprentice was to be chosen before sunrise, they were already up for so long, the adrenaline rush kept them awake but as soon as they had time to sit down, the wave of crushing exhaustion rammed into their sore backs.. Y/n looked at their subject, a warrior, experienced, luckily his back wasn’t as littered with scars as his limbs were, scars were a pain to ink over, y/n ground the paste ink which was to be used as the lines, cut with a bronze blade which was already waiting prepared to be sharpened into perfection with their skilled hand… The students worked away on their tools, tying the sharp points to rods in one way or another, grinding up inks, mixing colors and sharpening their blades, this was a spot of focus, the musicians luckily chilling a bit and giving a more traditional ambience almost letting them relax, but keeping the music fast and jumpy enough to keep the students on edge. · · · · The final bell was hit signaling the begging of their time, they had around 5 hours to make and complete their work, the cursed energy that seeped through the inks, tools and the shamans themselves was suffocating to the onlookers, Nobara was nearby Y/n but the two acted as if they didn’t exits, each student was in their own zone, in their own world working away on the skin they were provided with, some had less luck and had skin that barely took in, some were half lucky, having skin that took in but was littered with scars, there was no perfect skin to work with here, they had to adapt to what they had..

Y/n held the bronze blade with their dominant hand while their other hand pulled the skin stretching it to have the cleanest cuts over a sketch they made with normal ink over their subjects skin, the dark haired warrior luckily laid still as a stone on their table, letting l/n work away on the skin which while littered with freckles took the ink in a bearable way. When the lines were done, each rubbed with a special mixed ink to provide for the impenetrable skin once finished, Y/n grabbed two rods made of sandalwood, one tipped with silver points which were dipped in two inks throughout the process, one in the color of blood and the other in the color of the purest of gold’s, these were embedded into the skin as flames already burning into the skin of their subject the shaman worked away laser focused on their work, switching their tool by the very end to the single point steel needle, which dipped in cold blue ink colored the scales and details of the intricate design, a dragon made of steel, surrounded by fire it breathed, or rather, the fire it created with its presence..

The time flew by so fast Y/n didn’t even notice till the last time the skin was pierced by the steel needle the bell rung again calling the end of tattooing, the tools were all put down and taken away by miko’s that came up to each station taking away the tools in case anyone dared to cheat.. Sukuna’s crimson eyes scanned each student as they were handed the last ingredient, a specially made ointment, they didn’t have any other effect but the protection and quickened healing of the tattoos. His skillful eye caught the sizes, the tools were brung to him too and to other judges, to inspect the mastery of creation, as well as the inks, everything was inspected, a lot of these tools were made well, some even now away from their creators hands radiated dense cursed energy, some inks were better, some worse, some made by people who had both arms, some by people who had to improvise and make up for a lacking arm- which lead to lacking strength, some more potent than other’s..

Each student once finished covering their work was left to clean up their work station as their subjects were healed by takusen’s just a few feet away, this was the magic of the tattoos, fresh they didn’t mean anything, but once healed, fused fully with the skin of the wearer they could gain power unexplainable to normal warriors, these after all, were jujutsu sorcerers, the warriors that fought these grade one curses probably too many times for their liking… Y/n glanced to their subject which seemed fine, there were a few that didn’t take the healing well, something must’ve been off, one from what they overheard, didn’t want to heal at all, as if something was blocking their reversed techniques…

Y/n really just wanted this to be over, somehow they felt so drained and yet so on edge all this time, it felt sickening so long that now it was a dull uncomfortable ache in their chest.. But sooner than later, each subject was to be presented to the final judgment, this being 76% of the whole test grading, the fight didn’t matter as much, though l/n’s classmates lost their lives because of these, every single one of these 11 people, because of making it alive were able to become takusen’s or miko’s if only they wished so, but only one was to be chosen to work under the masterful eye of Sukuna himself.. · · · ·

Each subject was taken out to the arena with their artist and then was tested.. most of the tattoos worked, one transforming a giant warrior into a deadly tiny spider which to test its venom killed a cow within moment, another failed, deforming the subject which then passed from blood loss on everyone’s eyes, another which wasn’t the best but worked, helping the warrior camouflage, not perfectly and sneak soundlessly around anyone. Then came y/n’s turn, their subject stepped out and proudly presented his tattoo, a blue like dragon across his back surrounded by flames, the traditional style was mesmerizing, with swirls and the pattern of coloring definitely catching Sukuna’s eye, this one was quite a piece since the begging, from single handedly killing a barely injured first grade curse, to the technique of their tattooing, but here came the final test, does the tattoo work..?

The man burst into flames, Y/n felt horrified, after all they did everything right! The inks, the needles it all should be perfect why?! Out of their sight at the giant flames Sukuna’s lips tugged into a sadistic smile, maybe the application was right, but seems like the poor little h/c wasn’t so special after all.. Wrong, again, was Sukuna’s judgment clouded by something? From the flames rose a snake like body, besides the hot flames a roar tore through the air, a steel like dragon emerging from the flames, fire licking at the scales which didn’t seem affected at all, of course this wasn’t enough, the dragon, which was honestly so impressive Sukuna had to back out into the shadow to hide his gaping mouth.. Was to undergo another test, the impenenetrable skin, the dragon was attacked, with spears, stones, flames, nothing harmed it, the tattoo was completely impeccable..

The judges had a hard time deciding between a trio of the highest graded students, it took yet another hour, in which they were allowed to finally rest, have a drink of water or green tea and anticipate the final judgment.. “L/n y/n.” The name was called, the h/c figure choked on their beverage almost spilling it all over themselves before jumping to their feet and meeting the judges and Sukuna in the middle, the cheers weren’t there yet, a lot of the towns folk knew the judges sometimes threw out the losers first, but then Sukuna stepped out and looked down at the smaller frame, his head tilting to the side “I hope you will grow stronger, my apprentice.” With these words that sounded so clear, spoken in no risen tone but in a completely silent arena the crowd erupted, the music once again played as Y/n stood there in shock, was it really happening?

The situation still didn’t fully sink in,, unlike the silver needles which pierced the delicate skin of y/n’s left wrist, slowly but surely creating two black bands around it, with every beat of Sukuna’s masterful hands the information slowly sunk in, making l/n laugh and cry at the same time, it happened, they passed, they really did! “oi don’t move l/n..” The crimson eyed shaman spoke as he sat cross-legged on a silk pillow, on the arena still performances happened, a lot of Tokyo folks decided to stay till the tattoo was done and the apprentice would officially join under the wing of the master Sukuna, the King of his cast, that was challenged, challenged by someone who clearly didn’t know what kind of fresh hatchling the shaman got himself… · · · · @ryosmne​ @love-amihan​ @falling4fandoms​ ||if youd like to be added to the tag list, send an ask or a dm :)) cover art belongs to HDL on twitter

[sisterofiris]

Everyday life in the Hittite empire

Have you ever wondered what your life would have been like if you had been born in central Anatolia 3500 years ago? No? Now that I’ve brought it up, are you curious to find out?

Well you’re in luck, because that’s just what this post is about. So sit back, close your eyes, and imagine yourself in Anatolia - that is, modern Turkey. Are you ready? Can you see the mountains, the red river and the towering buildings of your capital, Ḫattuša? Can you hear the chariots driving up the road? Can you feel the electric brewing of a storm in the distance?

Then let’s go.

(With a brief disclaimer: while I study Hittitology, this is not intended as an academic-level post. It was written to give general, approachable insights into Hittite culture and can be used as writing inspiration or to titillate curious history nerds around you, but if you’re writing an academic paper on the subject, I would recommend you check out the bibliography instead.)

About you

First things first, are you older than five? If so, congratulations on being alive. Child mortality in this place and time is very high, so you’re one of the luckier ones among your siblings. You probably have at least a couple of those; you may even have as many as six or seven, especially if you come from a well-to-do family with access to good healthcare. When you were little, your parents might have told you the tale of Zalpa, in which the queen of Neša gives birth to thirty sons then thirty daughters who marry each other, but you know this only happens in the stories - not to normal people.

When you were born, your parents rejoiced regardless of your sex, as sons and daughters are equally valued in your society (albeit for different reasons). Your father took you on his knee and gave you a good Hittite name: maybe Armawiya, Ḫarapšili, Kilušḫepa or Šiwanaḫšušar for a girl, or Anuwanza, Kantuzili, Muwaziti or Tarḫuzalma for a boy. Gender-neutral names, such as Anna, Muwa and Šummiri, would also have been an option. Many people around you have Hurrian or Luwian names, even if they are not ethnically Hurrian or Luwian themselves. (This is comparable to the modern popularity of Hispanic names like Diego, or French names like Isabelle.)

It’s hard to say what you would have done during childhood. While your earliest years would have been spent playing and babbling in grammatically incorrect Hittite, by the age of six or seven you may well have already started training in the family profession. If a girl, you would have been taught to weave by your mother; if a boy, you might have helped your father out on the farm, tried your hand at making pottery, or spent long hours learning cuneiform. (There may have been careers requiring gender non-conformity, as there was in Mesopotamia, but as far as I am aware this has not been proven.) You know that even the noblest children are given responsibilities - king Ḫattušili himself was once a stable boy.

Now, as an adult, you are a working professional contributing directly to Hittite society. You look the very portrait of a Hittite: as a woman, you have long, dark hair that you probably keep veiled, and as a man, your hair is around shoulder-length and your face clean-shaven. Ethnically, though, you are likely a mixture of Hittite, Luwian, Hurrian, Hattian, and depending on when and where exactly you live, maybe Assyrian, Canaanite or even Greek. There’s a fair chance Hittite might not actually be your native language. Still, you consider yourself a Hittite, and a subject of the Hittite king.

Well, now you know who you are, let’s get along with your day!

Your home and environment

Your day begins the way most people’s days do: you wake up at home, in your bed. As an average Hittite, you probably sleep on the floor rather than on elevated furniture. Your floor is either paved or of beaten earth, and your house itself has stone foundations and mud brick walls, with a flat roof supported by timber beams. Windows are scarce and small, to keep the indoor temperature stable.

Outside, the rest of the settlement is waking up too. Statistically, you live in a village or small town, surrounded by forest and mountains. Summers here are hot and dry, and winters cold and snowy, with spring and autumn being marked by thunderstorms. Most inhabitants work as farmers, relying on the weather for their survival. Contagious illnesses are a constant threat - under king Muršili II, the land suffered a deadly plague for twenty years - as are enemy invasions. If you live within the bend of the red river, in the Hittite heartland, consider yourself lucky; if not, your settlement could well be shifting from one kingdom’s property to another and falling prey to both sides’ raids on a yearly basis.

Admitting no enemy forces are in the area today, you take your time to get up. You might tiredly stumble to the outhouse to go pee. Eventually, you’ll want to get dressed.

Clothing

As a man, your clothes comprise of a kilt or sleeved tunic, with a belt of cloth or leather. As a woman, you wear a long dress and, if you are married, a veil. All clothing is made from wool or linen, and a variety of dyes exist: red, yellow, blue, green, black and white are all colours mentioned in texts. If you are rich enough, you may be able to import purple-dyed fabric from Lazpa (Greek Lesbos) or the Levant. You will also want to flaunt your wealth with jewellery, regardless of gender.

Of course, your shoes have upturned ends in the Hittite style. Historians will tease you for this. Don’t listen to them. You look awesome.

Mealtime!

It’s now time for one of your two daily meals (the other will take place in the evening, after your work for the day is done). This will be prepared at the hearth, a vital element of every home, and which is likely connected to an oven. The staple of your diet is bread; in fact, it is so common that “bread”, in cuneiform texts, is used as a general term for food. It is usually made from wheat or barley, but can also be made from beans or lentils.

Worried you’ll get bored of it? You needn’t be: your society has enough types of bread that you could eat a different one each day for a whole season. Fig bread, sour bread, flat bread and honey bread are just some of your options, along with spear bread and moon bread... yes, in other words, baguettes and croissants. (Something tells me the Hittites and the French would have a lot to talk about.)

You also have various fruits and vegetables available: cucumber, leek, carrots, peas, chickpeas, lentils, beans, olives, figs, dates, grapes, pomegranates, onions, garlic, and more. Your diet is completed by animal products, including cheese, milk, butter, and meat, mainly from sheep and goats but also cows and wild game. Honey, too, is common.

These ingredients can be combined into all sorts of dishes. Porridge is popular, as are stews, both vegetarian and meat-based. Meat can also be broiled and quite possibly skewered onto kebabs. And of course, food would be boring without spices, so you have a variety of those to choose from too: coriander are cumin are just two of them.

As for drinks, you can have beer, wine, beer-wine (good luck figuring out what that is), milk or water. If you’re well-to-do enough, you may own a rhyton, a drinking vessel shaped like an animal such as a stag or bull. Don’t forget to libate to the Gods before drinking your share.

Daily work

The next thing on your plate, after food, is work. What you do depends on your social status and gender, and most likely, you do the same work as your parents did before you. You could be something well-known like a king, priest, scribe, merchant, farmer or slave, but don’t assume those are all the possibilities; you could also be, for example, a gardener, doctor, ritual practitioner, potter, weaver, tavern keeper, or perfume maker.

It’s impossible to go into detail on every career option you would have in Hittite society, so for the sake of brevity, let’s just discuss four - two male-dominated, and two female-specific.

Farmer

As a farmer, you are the backbone of your society. You and your peers are responsible for putting food on the plates of Hittites everywhere, thus ensuring the survival of the empire.

Like many farmers, you live on a small estate, most likely with both crops (or an orchard) and livestock to take care of. You may own cows, sheep, goats, pigs, horses, donkeys, and/or ducks. Your daily routine and tools aren’t that different from other pre-industrial cultures, though you have it a little rougher than most due to the Anatolian mountain terrain. If you have the means, you hire seasonal workers - both male and female - to help out as farmhands, and you may own a few slaves.

You get up early to milk the cows, and at the onset of summer, you or a hired herdsman may lead your livestock up to mountain pastures to graze. Depending on the season and the work that needs to be done, you may spend your day ploughing the fields, harvesting grain or fruit, tending livestock, shearing sheep, birthing a calf, repairing the barn, or various other tasks. Make sure to take proper care of everything: new animals are expensive, and losing one could get you into a precarious situation. In particular, you’ll want to keep an eye out for bears, wolves, foxes, and even lions and leopards.

Scribe

Few people are literate in Hittite society, and you are one of the lucky ones. You have been learning to read and write in three languages (Sumerian, Akkadian and Hittite) since childhood, and after long years of copying lexical lists and ancient myths, your education is now complete.

As a scribe, you are the dreaded bureaucrat. In a small town, you likely work alongside the town administrator, recording tax collections and enemy sightings as well as corresponding with other towns, and with the capital. You and your peers are the go-to people for officialising marriage agreements and divorces, drawing up work contracts, and creating sales receipts. If not in the town administration, you could also work in a temple, recording the results of oracles, cross-checking the correct procedures for a ritual, and making sure everything necessary for a festival is available. If you are particularly lucky, you may be employed by the nobility or even the palace, and be entrusted with such confidential tasks as writing the king’s annals or drafting an international treaty.

Regardless of where you are, two things are essential to your job: a stylus and a tablet. You may be a “scribe of the clay tablets”, in which case you will need to carry around a bit of clay wherever you go (and some water to moisten it). Otherwise, you are a “scribe of the wooden tablets”, in which case you use a wax tablet in a wooden frame, which requires less maintenance. It’s unclear whether these types of tablet are used for different purposes.

Fun fact: you likely have a few pen pals around the Hittite empire. After corresponding with other scribes for so long, you’ve started writing each other messages at the bottom of your tablets, asking each other how you’re doing and to say hi to each other’s families. Your employers needn’t know.

Weaver

Weaving, to a Hittite like you, is the quintessential female activity, along with textile-making in general. Like farming, this is a backbone of your society: without weaving, there would be no clothes, and without clothes, well, you can’t do much.

As a weaver, you produce textiles for your family and in many cases also for sale. You work in an atelier within your home, along with the other women of the household, keeping an eye on your smallest children as they play nearby. While your husband, brothers or sons may transport and sell your handiwork, you are the head of your own business.

You are skilled in multiple weaving techniques, and can do embroidery and sew fabric into various shapes (including sleeves - take that, Classical Greeks). You create clothing for all sorts of occasions, including rituals and festivals, outdoor work, and winter weather, and if you are lucky enough to be commissioned by the nobility, you put your best efforts into clothing that will show off their status. Don’t try to cheat anyone out of their money, though; prices are fixed by law.

Old Woman

Contrary to what you might expect, you don’t need to be old to be an Old Woman - this is a career just like any other, though it probably does require a certain amount of life experience and earned respect. As an Old Woman, you are a trained ritual practitioner and active in all sorts of cultic, divinatory and magical ceremonies.

Most commonly, you are hired for rituals protecting against or removing evil. Your services may solve domestic quarrels, cure a sick child, or shield someone from sorcery (a constant threat in your society). This is done through symbolic acts like cutting pieces of string, breaking objects, and sacrificing and burning animals, which are of course accompanied by incantations - sometimes in Hittite, sometimes in other languages, like Hurrian.

Far from a village witch, you are high-placed in Hittite society and trusted by the royal family itself. You have taken part in major rituals and festivals, including funerals, and you perform divinatory oracles too. This last responsibility gives you a large amount of influence over the king and queen; if you establish that something should be done, then it almost certainly will be. Use this power well... or not.

Your loved ones

After a long day ploughing fields, writing tablets, weaving clothes or reciting incantations, it’s finally time to reunite with your loved ones. For adults, these likely - but not necessarily! - include a spouse and children. You may just live with your nuclear family, but living with extended family is also common, and there may be as many as twenty people in your household. Siblings, aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, children and babies all share the evening meal with you, and some nights, you might gather afterwards to sing and dance, tell stories, and play games.

You also have relationships outside of home. Friendship is valued by Hittite society, with close friends calling each other “brother” and sister”. You might meet up with them regularly at the local tavern for a beer and a bit of fun. Someone there might even catch your eye... Interestingly, there are no laws against that person being of the same gender as you. So, same or different gender, why not try your luck tonight?

Greater powers

It’s impossible to spend a day in the Hittite empire without encountering religion. The Land of a Thousand Gods is aptly named: Gods are in everything, from the sun to the mountains to the stream at the back of your house to fire to a chair. You should always be conscious of their power, and treat them with respect. Though there are few traces of it, you may have a household shrine where you make libations or offer a portion of your meal. Your Gods may be represented by anthropomorphic statues, by animals such as a bull, by symbols such as gold disks, or even by a stone. Either way, treat these objects well; the divine is literally present in them.

You should also be wary of sorcery. Never make clay figures of someone, or kill a snake while speaking someone’s name, or you will face the death penalty. Likewise, always dispose of impurities carefully, especially those left over from a purification ritual (such as mud, ashes, or body hair). Never toss them onto someone else’s property. Has misfortune suddenly struck your household? Is your family or livestock getting sick and dying? These are signs that someone has bewitched you.

Some days are more sacred than others. You participate in over a hundred festivals every year, some lasting less than a day, some lasting a month, some local, some celebrated by the entire Hittite empire. The most important of these are the crocus festival and the purulli festival in spring, the festival of haste in autumn, and the gate-house festival, possibly also in autumn. The statues of the Gods are brought out of the temples, great feasts are held, and entertainment is provided through music, dance and sports contests. Depending on how important your town is, the king, queen or a prince might even be in attendance. All this excitement is a nice break from your regular work!

Sleep and dreams

Phew, what a busy day it’s been. The sun, snared in the trees’ branches, has set on the Hittite land, and you are ready for bed. Time to wrap yourself snugly in blankets and go to sleep.

You may dream, in which case, try to remember as much as you can. Dreams can be a vehicle for omens. Maybe, if the Gods are kind, you might catch a glimpse of what the next days, months and years hold in store for you.

Good night!

Bibliography

Beckman, Gary, “Birth and Motherhood among the Hittites”, in Budin, Stephanie Lynn, Macintosh Turfa, Jean, Women in Antiquity: Real Women across the Ancient World, Abingdon 2016 (pp. 319-328).

Bryce, Trevor, Life and Society in the Hittite World, Oxford 2002.

Bryce, Trevor, “The Role and Status of Women in Hittite Society”, in Budin, Stephanie Lynn, Macintosh Turfa, Jean, Women in Antiquity: Real Women across the Ancient World, Abingdon 2016 (pp. 303-318).

Golec-Islam, Joanna, The Food of Gods and Humans in the Hittite World, BA thesis, Warszawa 2016.

Hoffner, Harry A., “Birth and name-giving in Hittite texts”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 27/3 (1968), pp. 198-203.

Hoffner, Harry A., “Daily life among the Hittites”, in Averbeck, Richard E., Chavalas, Marc W., Weisberg, David B., Life and Culture in the Ancient Near East, Bethesda 2003 (pp. 95-118).

Marcuson, Hannah, “Word of the Old Woman”: Studies in Female Ritual Practice in Hittite Anatolia, PhD thesis, Chicago 2016.

Wilhelm, Gernot, “Demographic Data from Hittite Land Donation Tablets”, in Pecchioli Daddi, Franca, Torri, Giulia, Corti, Carlo, Central-North Anatolia in the Hittite Period: New Perspectives in Light of Recent Research, Roma 2009 (pp. 223-233).

[rockislandadultreads]

Coming of Age Stories: a reading list

The Mermaid from Jeju by Sumi Hahn

In the tradition of Yangsze Choo's Night Tiger and Min Jin Lee's Pachinko comes a magical saga that explores what it really means to love. In the aftermath of World War II, Goh Junja is a girl just coming into her own. She is the latest successful deep sea diver in a family of strong haenyeo. Confident she is a woman now, Junja urges her mother to allow her to make the Goh family's annual trip to Mt. Halla, where they trade abalone and other sea delicacies for pork. Junja, a sea village girl, has never been to the mountains, where it smells like mushrooms and earth, and it is there she falls in love with a mountain boy Yang Suwol, who rescues her after a particularly harrowing journey. But when Junja returns one day later, it is just in time to see her mother take her last breath, beaten by the waves during a dive she was taking in Junja's place. Spiraling in grief, Junja sees her younger siblings sent to live with their estranged father, Suwol is gone, the ghost of her mother haunts their home--from the meticulously tended herb garden that has now begun to sprout weeds, to the field where their bed sheets are beaten. She has only her grandmother and herself. But the world moves on without Junja. The political climate is perilous. Still reeling from Japan's forced withdrawal from the peninsula, Korea is forced to accommodate the rapid establishment of US troops, and her grandmother, who lived through the Japanese invasion that led to Korea's occupation understands the signs of danger all too well. When Suwol is arrested for working with and harboring communists, and the perils of post-WWII overtake her homelands, Junja must learn to navigate a tumultuous world unlike anything she's ever known.

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

Poet Ocean Vuong's debut novel is a shattering portrait of a family, a first love, and the redemptive power of storytelling. On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is a letter from a son to a mother who cannot read. Written when the speaker, Little Dog, is in his late twenties, the letter unearths a family's history that began before he was born — a history whose epicenter is rooted in Vietnam — and serves as a doorway into parts of his life his mother has never known, all of it leading to an unforgettable revelation. At once a witness to the fraught yet undeniable love between a single mother and her son, it is also a brutally honest exploration of race, class, and masculinity. Asking questions central to our American moment, immersed as we are in addiction, violence, and trauma, but undergirded by compassion and tenderness, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is as much about the power of telling one's own story as it is about the obliterating silence of not being heard. With stunning urgency and grace, Ocean Vuong writes of people caught between disparate worlds, and asks how we heal and rescue one another without forsaking who we are. The question of how to survive, and how to make of it a kind of joy, powers the most important debut novel of many years.

This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger

In the summer of 1932, on the banks of Minnesota's Gilead River, the Lincoln Indian Training School is a pitiless place where Native American children, forcibly separated from their parents, are sent to be educated. It is also home to Odie O’Banion, a lively orphan boy whose exploits constantly earn him the superintendent’s wrath. Odie and his brother, Albert, are the only white faces among the hundreds of Native American children at the school. After committing a terrible crime, Odie and Albert are forced to flee for their lives along with their best friend, Mose, a mute young man of Sioux heritage. Out of pity, they also take with them a brokenhearted little girl named Emmy. Together, they steal away in a canoe, heading for the mighty Mississippi in search for a place to call home. Over the course of one unforgettable summer, these four orphan vagabonds journey into the unknown, crossing paths with others who are adrift, from struggling farmers and traveling faith healers to displaced families and lost souls of all kinds. With the feel of a modern classic, This Tender Land is an en­thralling, bighearted epic that shows how the magnificent American landscape connects us all, haunts our dreams, and makes us whole.

Miller's Valley by Anna Quindlen

Filled with insights that are hallmarks of Anna Quindlen’s bestsellers, this extraordinary novel is about a woman coming of age, as she unearths secrets about her family and her town, and surprising truths about herself. For generations the Millers have lived in Miller’s Valley. Mimi Miller tells about her life with intimacy and honesty. As Mimi eavesdrops on her parents and quietly observes the people around her, she discovers more and more about the toxicity of family secrets, the dangers of gossip, the flaws of marriage, the inequalities of friendship and the risks of passion, loyalty, and love. Home, as Mimi begins to realize, can be “a place where it’s just as easy to feel lost as it is to feel content.” Miller’s Valley is a masterly study of family, memory, loss, and, ultimately, discovery, of finding true identity and a new vision of home. As Mimi says, “No one ever leaves the town where they grew up, even if they go.” Miller’s Valley reminds us that the place where you grew up can disappear, and the people in it too, but all will live on in your heart forever.

[downspiral-dreamer]

today is the beginning of a series of posts where i introduce my characters to you, complete with picrews i’ve made of them as best as i could, since it’s hard to find faceclaims sometimes!

and for tonight’s entry, i’m going to have you meet KEALLAN MOROGH, one of the three main protagonists of A PATH TO DAWN!

                                                          ~ * ~

Meet KEALLAN MOROGH, the son of a tailor who grew to become a farmer-turned-thief. He was a simple boy in his youth, playfighting his fellow villager boys, helping his family with their chores and work, and often dreaming of a future full of valour, at least until age crumbled those dreams and a realisation of a life full of labour under the thumbs of greedy men took hold.

But fortune favours those who embrace their lives with zeal and love, and She brought adventure to Keallan for him.

Lost one winter as he traveled along a trade route to buy supplies in the city, Keallan wandered far off-road in the midst of a vicious blizzard, eventually becoming so numb that all he could do was sink into the snow and wait for the White Folk - harbingers of death - to come for him.

Someone did discover him and bring him into a world of newness - but it was not the White Folk. Instead, an Elvish Huntress from the nearby kingdom of Daerdan, hidden deep within the forest mere miles away, stumbled upon him and used her magick to protect them both in an invisible cave; see-through but full of warmth and light, as the snow beat uselessly upon the top of this mystical dome.

Keallan awoke, nursed back to health by this Elf, and they traveled to the city together. Along the way, love grew. And against her parents’ wishes, and the wishes of all in Daerdan, Aranda the Elf left the home she had always known to start a life with a human tailor’s son.

-*-*-*-

In the current day, where A PATH TO DAWN begins, a famine has fallen across the eastern side of the country. Unable to grow a single thing at the farm he shares with his beloved, Keallan is forced to leave and travel far from home in search of any way he can provide for his wife and their young daughter, Fay. He leaves them behind, swearing that as he travels and works jobs wherever he finds them, he will send home coin so that they will live comfortably until his return.

He never gets the chance. In the village of Tormark, he crosses paths with a young orphan boy who dared to throw stones at the passing cavalcade belonging to Lord Rarrick, a warlord with a passionate bloodlust. In his efforts to save the boy, Keallan is captured and taken to Bloodwell Keep, where he remains until some of our other characters stumble across him... and he soon realises his adventures have only begun.

-*-*-*-

STATS:

Full Name: Keallan Morogh. He took no middle name. Age: 35, though hardships have caused him to look older. Gender: Cis male. Race: Human, or the Race of Men. Eyes: An icy blue unable to be depicted by picrew. Hair: Golden brown, shoulder-length, often messy. When gathered in a more formal style, he often uses braiding taught to him by his Elven beloved. Occupation(s): Tailor’s apprentice, farmer, thief. Likes: His family, wildwood berries, horses, naps, genuine laughter over good drink, hard work, splashing about in cold rivers during the summer. Dislikes: The tyranny and violence is a given, pastries (having never been able to afford them, they’re too sickeningly sweet for him now), writing and reading (he didn’t get much chance to learn growing up), the colour orange, droughts, hot weather, barkbeetles, gluttony and greed, prejudice. Other: He’s covered in scars from the torture he endured at Bloodwell Keep, where Rarrick’s men dragged him after he dared protect the stone-throwing orphan. And, growing up poor, he learnt very few skills considered “educated”, but learnt plenty of practical ones: tailoring, sewing, swordplay, tracking and hunting, gardening and foraging, and many others that have served him far more than reading or writing ever would have.

[whitherliliesbloom]

Illya’s Never-Ending Survey

Rules: Repost, do not reblog

Tagging: I’m sure most people have already done this so I’ll just tag those I know haven’t yet @ofthesilverlining​ , @windup-dragoon​ , @theadventuresofshuri​ and anyone else who hasn’t done this but wants to.

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Illya Skawi

NICKNAME: Magus of the white (by another OC of mine)

AGE: 19

BIRTHDAY: 31st Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon (31st December)

ETHNIC GROUP: Lalafell / Dunesfolk (Has a hint of hyur from her father)

NATIONALITY: Unknown. She comes from a rural countryside outside Eorzea

LANGUAGE/S: English

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Taken by Alphinaud in the main canon, supposedly single in other AUs.

HOME TOWN / AREA: Black Shroud

CURRENT HOME: Lavender Beds.

PROFESSION: Glorified errand girl, Adventurer, Medic

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Pure white, usually straight with bangs

EYES: Round and Violet

FACE: Soft, slightly rounded

LIPS: Pale, thin

COMPLEXION: Fair skinned, smooth

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: Scars littering a good portion of her torso

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 2′9′’

WEIGHT: 43 ponze

BUILD: Short, neither chubby nor very slender by lala standards, average

FEATURES: Glossy eyes, button nose, white hair that almost reflects the sun

ALLERGIES: None

USUAL HAIR STYLE: Usually loose with minimal styling, bangs just above her eyes and a white hair band

USUAL FACE LOOK: No make up

USUAL CLOTHING: Robes, Warm clothing, Armor suitable for whatever class she is, occasionally wears glasses. She’s not picky with her fashion at all.

VOICE CLAIM: Japanese voice: Hanazawa Kana. Something similar to her voice for Nadeko, Kanade and Shiori. English voice: Not a fixed voice actor but her in-game voice is this, which I think is pretty accurate to how she’d sound in English.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Failure, Being abandoned, Polar Bears

ASPIRATION/S: Acquisition of all the knowledge and skills she can, To finally be someone who is of use to others

POSITIVE TRAITS: Kind, open-minded, intelligent, curious, hard-working, loyal,  cooperative, empathetic, observant, patient

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Pessimistic, shy, anxious, cowardly, emotionally fragile, envious, weak, passive, dependent, insecure

TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic MBTI: INFJ / ISFJ (she kind of tip-toes between both)

SOUL TYPE/S: The Scholar / Server

ANIMALS: Dwarf rabbit 

VICE HABIT/S: Hiding her face when she gets emotional, Twiddling her fingers together, Avoiding eye contact

FAITH: None

GHOSTS?: Debatable. She wonders if they are that different from voidsents

AFTERLIFE?: Probably

REINCARNATION?: Possible, but unsure ALIENS?: No

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: None

EDUCATION LEVEL:  Basic education

FAMILY.

FATHER : Lachlan Skawi, Midlander Adventurer, alive and active. A friendly, witty and adventurous man who can never stay in one place for too long. His sense of humor and persistence eventually causes a reclusive lalafellin farmer to open up her heart to him.

MOTHERS : Cocona Coruna, Half Dunesfolk Half Plainsfolk, alive and active. A stern, sharp-tongued but dedicated farmer who provides the strange adventurer shelter in her home after his journey by ship gets interrupted by a band of pirates wrecking the boat.

SIBLINGS : None

EXTENDED FAMILY:  None

NAME MEANING/S: None

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None

FAVORITES.

BOOK: I have no idea but she loves reading a lot

DEITY: Nophica

HOLIDAY: Little Ladies’ Day

MONTH:  Second Umbral Moon. Usually when spring starts

SEASON: Spring

PLACE: Anywhere with lots of flowers. She’s understandably starstruck when she first visit Il Mheg

WEATHER: Clear skies

SOUND / S: Leaves rustling, Gentle breeze, Insects chirping, windchimes

SCENT / S: Anything floral, Freshly baked bread, Herbs

TASTE / S: SPICY, Fruits

FEEL / S: Texture of cotton or wool, warm blankets

ANIMAL / S: No real preference but probably birds

NUMBER: None

COLORS: Blue, purple

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Magic, cooking and baking, gardening, domestic chores

BAD AT:  Physically strenuous labor, Speaking, awful fashion sense

TURN ONS: Courage, Kindness, Altruism, Confidence (because she lacks it herself hah), Loyalty, Independence

TURN OFFS: Manipulation, Bad tempers, Sadism, Selfishness, Too domineering, Perversion or openly lustful behavior, Unnecessary violence

HOBBIES: Cooking or baking, gardening or farming, reading, writing, crochet, sightseeing. magic

TROPES: See this post

QUOTES : “It’s impossible... I’m just... I’m just too weak.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?       A1: She’s 100% not going to be the star of some action movie. I don’t know what title I’d give it, but probably a slow-paced melancholic movie focusing on character development driven narrative.

Q2: What would their soundtrack/score sound like?           A2: Pianos. Lots of piano tracks. Q3:  Why did you start writing this character?         A3: She just kind of happened. Getting into ffxiv, I wasn’t really expecting to come out of it with a new OC I’d be obsessing over. But as I grew more attached to the story and also came up with headcanons for the player character, Illya just sort of developed into her own character in my eyes.

Q4: What first attracted you to this character?         A4: Not sure if it counts but I was surprised just how much they made the player character so involved in the story, especially for an MMO. Her pro-activeness and continuously being willing to help and save others when I myself would have been too cynical to care made her endearing to me. 

Q5: Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5: I’d like to think she’s a complex character, given how I spend more time thinking about her flaws than actual strengths.. but I do sometimes wonder if she’s too ideal or mary sue-ish. Her aesthetic of flowers, magic and purple has got to be the most overused and cliche combination of aesthetics imaginable. Also she stutters a lot, which makes writing dialogue in her POV slightly annoying. Q6: What do you have in common with your muse?           A6: We’re both introverted and have self-esteem issues. We’re also both rather pessimistic, though for her she’s pessimistic in her beliefs of whether she’ll be able to live up to the expectations of others, while I’m pessimistic about everyone in general. Other than that I think we’re actually rather different. 

Q7: How does your muse feel about you?         A7: Dunno. She’d probably be really scared of me, I think. Q8: What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?       A8: If I had to go into detail about every interesting interaction she has I’d take another six hours to write but in a nutshell:  Meets her best friend and fellow WOL Laurelis near the start of ARR and grows more and more attached and comfortable around her as time goes on despite starting off rather wary and weirded out by her. Meets Alphinaud at the very beginning of ARR but doesn’t really bond personally with him until the very start of HW. They confess some time mid-Stormblood. She has interesting dynamics with other WOL OCs I have too, but they’re a topic for another day. Q9: What gives you inspiration to write your muse?     A9: Just my sheer love for her. I’ve grown to love her like I would any favourite character to the point she sometimes doesn’t feel like an OC anymore. Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?   A10 : Too long. Granted I tabbed in and out, doing different things all at once but I really shouldn’t have taken close to three hours to finish this.

[hjbender]

Imagine a story line where Loki was married to Thor's older brother. Thor swallows his feelings for his brother's husband, Loki. That is until his brother is off at war and he discovers Loki sobbing in a corner about how lonely he is since no one will talk to a first giant. So Thor decides to befriend the forehead bride and may or may not have his feelings rekindle for Loki the same time Loki realizes he had feelings for Thor.

Within an hour of reading this stellar ask, this idea turned into a full-blown 150k slow burn novel written by Jane Austen, if Jane Austen also wrote Norse myths. (In other words, EXCELLENT.) It played out in my head like an Asgardian version of Pride and Prejudice. Let me try to summarize it in 3900 words:

Tagged: arranged marriage, drama, sexual content, marriage problems (no adultery), angst, miscarriage, character death (not Thor or Loki), accidental love, marriage proposals, happy-ish ending (maybe?), just read it

Baldur is the eldest son of Odin, heir to the throne of Asgard. He is handsome and well-mannered and will someday inherit tremendous power and status, and that makes him the most desirable man in the Nine Realms.

His brother Thor, on the other hand, is a bit rough in terms of both appearance and manners. He prefers to spend his time alone or with his small group of close friends, traveling the realms, fighting brigands, settling disputes, learning new skills from dwarves and elves and humans, appreciating nature, lending his might to the defenseless when they need it. He is a comfortable loner, he detests politics and formalities, and he hates being cooped up in the palace. He dresses more like a commoner than royalty. He is tall and well-built, unbelievably strong, and more than a little intimidating.

His father is always urging him to be more like his older brother. “Show some interest in reality, boy! You can’t roam the wilderness for the rest of your life! Get married and settle down. Find your place in the court, raise a family. Be a proper prince, for Valhalla’s sakes!”

But Thor adamantly states that he is content in his bachelorhood and intends to stay that way. He is a warrior and a wanderer, like Odin himself once was. Not a soft-hearted fool with romantic dreams in his head and a desire to be domesticated. He is too wild, too in love with his freedom. He will never marry.

Then, in the interest of politics (and adding some new blood to the royal family), Baldur becomes betrothed to the youngest of King Laufey’s children, a lovely little jötunn named Loki. Loki’s people are Frost Giants of the realm of Jötunheim, and normally a marriage between their two kingdoms would never happen due to the size difference between jötnar and Æsir. However, the last baby Laufey bore happened to be quite small, making him a perfect candidate for marriage with one of the non-giant races. Thus Loki was groomed from birth to be a royal spouse. Given the biological flexibility of the jötnar, he could provide his future husband or wife with fine, mixed-blood children.

It is a perfect arrangement. Odin has been wanting to clinch ties with Jötunheim for centuries (it has nothing to do with gaining exclusive trading rights to Jötunheim’s coveted natural resources, oh, goodness, no, certainly not), and now he can finally do it. Baldur is pleased at the prospect of achieving this goal for his father and readily agrees to the match.

In just a few short years, Loki is married to Baldur in one of the most extravagant and ostentatious weddings in Asgard’s history. Women (and men) all over the kingdom mourn that their dream prince is now off the market, and their scorn for Loki is bitter and fierce. (A simmering, low-level dislike of Frost Giants crops up overnight in Asgard, and it’s something Loki must deal with for years to come.)

Loki tries to ignore all the negativity and fear in his heart and enjoy his wedding day. He pretends to be happy at the reception feast, but he struggles to truly smile. Prince Baldur is nice, but he is a far cry from the spouse Loki imagined having one day. Their wedding night is even more disappointing. Baldur is overeager and giggly from too much wine, and he spills himself prematurely, less than a minute after deflowering his virginal bride. He then passes out beside him and starts snoring.

Annoyed (but partly relieved to be spared a long night of awkward first-time sex), Loki wraps himself in a robe, pours himself a drink, and slinks away to take in the moonlight in the east gardens. He walks barefoot in the soft grass between the rose bushes, sipping his wine, sighing at the moon, and trying not to feel sorry for himself.

This is his lot, his destiny. And really, it isn’t so bad. Baldur is a good man. He doesn’t have any disgusting habits, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t swear. He keeps himself clean and measures his words carefully. He doesn’t lose his temper easily. In fact, he seems incapable of being angered. He is polite and educated and diplomatic, a natural king. He’s a little self-absorbed and prideful sometimes, and he has an irritating laugh, but if those are the worst of his vices, then Loki counts himself fortunate.

At least he was not married off to one of Surtur’s vicious sons. Or a haughty Elf. Or a bigoted Vanir who believes the jötnar are descended from ogres. At least he was not given to a lowly drunkard of common birth and poor character. Loki would not be forced to toil for a living, laboring to earn his daily bread, spending the majority of his life pregnant and impoverished. He would not be beaten or berated. He would not starve or suffer. No, he is married to a very nice, handsome, mild-mannered, financially secure Æsir prince, and even though they don’t share a passionate, romantic attraction to one another, it’s not bad for an arranged marriage. Loki will teach Baldur how to love and please a jötunn. He will be a good wife. He will bear Baldur’s children—maybe; hopefully; if that strange organ and thin, meager seed is capable of giving him a baby—and someday he will be a queen. It’s an impressive destiny, especially for a defective runt. A fairy tale ending. Loki is very grateful to his mother for realizing his potential.

As he walks in the gardens, he spots Thor, his new brother-in-law, whom Loki had been introduced to at the wedding and never really got a chance to speak to during the feast. He is sitting under a tree and smoking a pipe, contemplating the moon.

Ugh, Loki thinks disdainfully. A smoker. And he has a beard, too, which means he must stink of pipeweed. His hair is long and unkempt and he’s dressed like a poor farmer, sleeveless tunic showing off his bare arms—great Ymir, just look at those enormous muscles, it’s almost grotesque—and worn leather trousers that look like they haven’t been washed in a year.

So this is the other Odinson. Loki thanks his lucky stars that he got the more civilized brother. He couldn’t imagine being married to this brute. He looks to be mean and simple, one of those rough, rude alpha males who speaks in one-word grunts and chews with his mouth open. No, thank you.

Loki begins to tiptoe back into the shadows, but Thor’s strong, low voice stops him: “Asgard is a poor trade for the majesty of Jötunheim’s mountains. I hope you will not regret your decision.”

Loki is at first surprised to hear such eloquent words from such a coarse-looking man, and he is flattered by the compliment to his homeland. Then he bristles defensively.

It’s true, he hadn’t wanted to leave Jötunheim—with its cool, green valleys and soaring glaciers and crystal-clear lakes—to come to this gold-plated city of few trees and even fewer friendly faces. But there was no life for him in Jötunheim. He had known that since he was a child. He was destined to become a part of his spouse’s realm, and once he left the place of his birth, there would be no returning. Such is the way with his people.

Loki stiffens his lips and answers curtly, “Jötunheim is a crude, underdeveloped region. Nothing but rocks and ice. I am glad to call Asgard my home now.”

Thor chuckles. “You’re a fine liar, Laufeykin. That is good. You’ll need that talent if you hope to survive here.” He stands up and approaches Loki, who takes a fearful step back.

Thor is much taller and broader up-close. Loki realizes how vulnerable and underdressed he is, nude beneath his robe, with his husband’s seed still sticky between his legs. Perhaps brothers shared wives in Asgard, like they did in other kingdoms. Dear gods. Thor could easily take whatever he wanted from Loki, right here in this garden.

But Thor only gazes at him tenderly—such blue eyes he has—and Loki swears he sees pity flash across his rugged features.

“You’re too good for him,” he utters. “Such rarity and beauty…” He raises his hand as if to touch Loki’s cheek, but his fingers curl at the last moment and retreat. “I wish you many years of happiness… if you can find them here.”

Then he turns and disappears into the shadows, leaving Loki standing in the garden with his heart pounding and the sweet perfume of roses all around him.

Two years pass. Loki remains an uncomfortable stranger in Asgard, never really fitting in or feeling accepted by anyone but the immediate royal family—and even then, it is only because they must.

Old age begins to catch up with Odin. He spends more and more time in his regenerative sleep cycles and there is murmuring of his abdicating the throne to Baldur within the next year.

Loki begins to feel the distinct pressure to produce a child. Reigning kings prefer to relinquish their crowns when they have one or two grandchildren already on the ground, for it is the sign of a stable lineage, securing the line of succession. If a future queen cannot provide her husband with children, what good is she to him? This is what Loki has been told his entire life: marry well. Make babies. Achieve power, wealth, and status. Secure them, defend them. Don’t let anyone see your weakness.

But Loki is beginning to wonder if it might be impossible for an Æsir to breed a jötunn, regardless of how potent or fertile either of them may be.

Baldur is flippant toward his spouse’s worries. “Don’t worry, my little dove. It will happen in time.”

But babies aren’t made out of thin air, Loki knows. Baldur is tenacious and extremely dedicated to his duties to the royal court, and he takes on responsibilities one after the other. There is very little time left at the end of the day to devote to his marriage, and even then, he seems more interested in hosting dinner parties and building his wine collection than making love. Loki almost has to beg and plead for it.

In the hopes of getting Baldur interested in the activity, Loki  implements all sorts of strategies to spice things up in the bedroom, but his attempts are usually met with laughter, eye-rolls, and patronizing little pats on his head.

“Oh, my dear Loki, we don’t need these tawdry, silly things! Our marriage is exciting enough. Here, put aside those toys and come to arms, darling. Nature has already given us everything we need.”

Loki hides his annoyance but submits to Baldur’s requests.

The man is absolutely clueless when it comes to romance.

It could be worse, Loki reminds himself, lying beneath Baldur and staring blankly up at the ceiling while Baldur makes clean, quiet, polite love to him. I could be married to a Fire Giant. An elf. A Vanir.

Thor.

Loki shivers and closes his eyes, wrapping himself around his husband.

He wonders what it’s like, being at the mercy of those hard hands, pinned under the weight of that heavy body, so musky and hairy and warm. Being taken roughly, having his hair pulled and his haunches spanked, feeling the delicious stretch of a thick cock thrusting into his cunt, hearing all the sloppy wet sounds as he is thoroughly, ruthlessly fucked—

Loki comes with a cry and bites down on Baldur’s shoulder.

“Ouch! Sweetheart, please! There’s no need for that!”

Loki retreats like a scolded child, his orgasm dying almost as soon as it began. He is embarrassed and ashamed. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about his brother-in-law. It is wrong. Terrible, actually.

It could always be worse, says a voice in the back of his mind.

Loki doesn’t know how, but he has no choice but to believe it.

They are preparing to celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary when war suddenly breaks out on Vanaheim. Loki is at the council meeting when Thor—resplendent in full armor, with his hair plaited and beard groomed, cloaked in a blood-red cape, such a powerful and formidable sight—steps forward and announces his intention to lead the armies of Asgard.

But Baldur, who is neither a warrior nor very military-minded, intervenes and says it would be folly to send his little brother into battle while the future king of Asgard sits comfortably in his palace. “Nay, Thor, remain behind and look after my affairs! This is only a skirmish; I shall be home before the end of the season.”

Thus it is decided. Baldur bids farewell to his wife and his brother, kissing them both on their cheeks, and departs for Vanaheim.

The “skirmish” drags on for weeks, becoming months. With Baldur absent, Loki’s link to (and refuge from) the Asgardian people disappears. He grows increasingly melancholic and isolated. He can be heard crying at night, and he wanders through each day looking miserable and depressed, silent and sullen, if he is even seen at all. He spends most of the day locked in his room with only the servants for visitors, avoiding awkward, unnecessary interactions with people.

Thor’s concern finally reaches the point where he can no longer stand aside and watch Loki deteriorate. This lonely, beautiful, neglected creature is suffering. Baldur had instructed Thor to tend to his affairs while he was gone, and Thor is—politically. But he gladly resolves to set aside his work duties and make Loki his top priority.

Thor knocks on Loki’s bedroom door one evening and Loki answers it with flushed cheeks and a stuffy nose, his jewel-red eyes bloodshot. His breath smells of strong wine. They stare at one another awkwardly for a moment, then Thor clears his throat and asks if Loki would join him for a walk in the nearby wood. He offers him his arm.

Loki sniffs. “Oh, I. I couldn’t. I’m in my dressing gown and I haven’t, I was already in bed when you—”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Thor thrusts out his elbow. “Come,” he says more gently. “You’ve spent enough time indoors. The fresh air will do you good.”

Loki timidly acquiesces, sliding his hand around the proffered arm, and Thor leads him away. Once outside, Thor wraps his arm around Loki’s waist and uses Mjölnir to fly them to the edge of the wood.

Loki has never flown before. At first he is terrified and clings to Thor tightly, but then he relaxes when he realizes how safe and secure he is in Thor’s arms. He takes a deep breath and smiles, the wind flowing through his hair. He hasn’t felt this good in weeks.

They land at the wood’s edge and walk along its borders, making small talk and listening to the natural world around them, so wholesome and soft compared to the hard, man-made surroundings of the city.

They speak about the war, the future, the weather. Thor asks if Loki has received any letters from Baldur; Loki haltingly confesses he hasn’t. “He is very busy, I imagine,” he says with a brave but sad smile.

Thor scowls at the ground as he walks. He knows his brother. Hardworking but single-minded, focused on politics and very little else. Loki doesn’t deserve to be brushed aside, to be placed so far down on the list of Baldur’s cares. No wife does. But Thor simply says, “Yes, I’m sure that is the case.”

Night falls and Thor returns Loki to the palace.

“Thank you,” says Loki, turning at his bedroom door with a fragile grin. “I really enjoyed tonight.”

Thor smiles, and Loki is struck by the warmth and gentleness of his face. Hardly the barbarian he had mistaken him for in the beginning.

“I am available again tomorrow evening,” says Thor. “I would be happy to spend it with you.”

Loki nods, and Thor politely kisses Loki’s knuckles and bids him goodnight.

Loki shuts his bedroom door and presses back against it, sighing as he gazes up at the ceiling.

Four years he’s spent in Asgard, yet only now does he feel like he’s made a friend.

Soon these nightly strolls become a routine, and a warm camaraderie blossoms between Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeykin. They find they are not so different; they like nature and animals and share an appreciation for the beauty of life’s simple pleasures: the smell of the earth after a spring rain; a hot drink on a cold day; the taste of a sun-warmed apple plucked right off the branch; the rumble of thunder, the song of a bird, the trickle of a clear, quiet brook. Their tongues loosen as they become more familiar with one another, and soon Loki’s shyness fades.

One evening he confides in Thor something he’s been keeping a secret:

“Two weeks after Baldur left, I began to feel ill in the mornings.” His voice is delicate, his face tense as he speaks. “The smell of breakfast would make me vomit, so I stopped coming to the dining hall and took breakfast in my room instead. I wasn’t avoiding everyone, I simply didn’t want to make a disgusting scene at the table.”

Thor stops and stares. So that was why Loki had stopped showing up for breakfast. He isn’t unsociable—he is pregnant. Baldur is going to be a father and Thor an uncle. This is very good news for their family.

Why then does Thor feel so bitter and jealous?

He tries to hide it. He clasps Loki’s hands and forces a smile onto his face. “I’m very happy for you. Have you written to Baldur of your good news?”

Loki looks downward and pinches his lips together. “No. And he will never find out, if I can help it.” He closes his eyes. “Two months later, there was… I, I miscarried. I lost the baby.”

Thor’s heart clenches in his chest. He opens his mouth but no words come.

Loki gulps and continues, “I went to bed that night perfectly fine. Well, I was a little more tired than usual and my back was hurting, but I thought it was normal. Maybe it was; I can’t say. All I know is that I woke up the next morning and there was blood… everywhere. And I hurt”—he places his hand on his flat lower belly—“here. That’s how I knew. I knew I’d lost it.”

Thor stares, too stunned to react.

Loki bows his head. “I was so happy. I thought things were finally changing. I was already picking out names—” He chokes and covers his mouth, unable to finish. He falls apart.

Thor reaches out and pulls him into an embrace. Loki almost disappears in his massive arms.

“These things happen,” says Thor roughly, his eyes filling with tears. “It is not your fault. Take heart, Loki. You and Baldur will make another child.”

“But this one took so long,” Loki sobs, clutching Thor’s cape in his fists. “We’ve been trying for four years! I don’t know if we can make another. I don’t know if I could bear the pain of losing another child. Oh, Thor, it’s just—I fear Baldur is going to die in this war and then I’ll be stranded here in Asgard, cast out from the palace a ruined widow, untouchable, unwanted, forced to—”

“That will not happen to you, Loki, I give you my word,” says Thor firmly. “Baldur is going to come home to you and make you happy again. You will have another child growing in your belly within a fortnight, and you and he will share many happy years together. Believe it, Loki, and it will be so.”

Loki stops moaning but the tears still slide down his cheeks. He buries his face against Thor’s chest.

He should believe it, but he doesn’t.

He’s not sure if he wants to.

A week later, Odin’s ravens deliver to him the terrible news: Baldur is dead.

He did not die gloriously on the battlefield, nor was he murdered by assassins. He was celebrating a recent victory with his men and unwittingly stepped in front of a drunken archer trying to impress a local Vanir woman. The arrow went straight through his neck, severing his nerves, and he fell to the ground dead.

The story will be altered, of course. Baldur will have a warrior’s funeral, go down in history as a hero. It is the least they could do.

When Odin shares the news with his family and close advisors, Loki turns and flees from the throne room, sobbing. Not because his worst fears had come true; not because he is now a lone sheep among a court of hungry wolves; but because his husband is dead. The man with whom he’d shared four years of his life—not the best years, but they had their moments. Smiles. Comfort. Familiarity.

But now Baldur is gone. Loki will never see him again, nor hear his laughter, nor smell his hair, nor feel his warmth beside him as he sleeps. He is completely alone. He has lost his unborn child and now his husband, and all he wants to do is run until he dies.

Thor chases after Loki, finally catching him in the east gardens, where they first spoke to one another on a mild evening four years ago. He takes Loki’s face in his hands and tries to soothe him, but Loki is inconsolable.

“I knew it, I knew it!” he weeps. “I knew he was going to die! Now there will be no children, no throne, no life for me here! No one will want me now! I am widowed and worthless!”

Thor holds Loki’s cheeks so he is forced to look into his eyes. “That will not be your fate, Loki. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it.”

He sinks down on both his knees, grasping Loki’s hands tightly in his own.

“It is not uncommon in Asgard for an unwed man to take his deceased brother’s wife as his own,” he says. “This way, you shall remain in our family and be looked after. You will not be abandoned or cast out. I will be your friend, your companion, your ally, Loki. I will do my best to nurture your dreams. I will place your happiness over my own, for that is only what you deserve.

“I know that you loved my brother. Maybe you feel that you will never love again. Perhaps you won’t. I cannot say. But I tell you now, Loki, I will not force you to submit to me, nor render unto me anything you do not willingly give. I will not ask that you love me or make love to me, but I hope that someday you might find me worthy of your affections. If so, I will endeavor to remain worthy of them for the rest of my life.”

A squeak escapes Loki’s mouth and his eyes gleam wetly in the light.

Thor looks up at him, his face honest and hopeful. “I am already yours, Loki Laufeykin. Will you also be mine?”

Loki sucks in a breath. “Oh, Thor—” He bends down and folds himself around Thor’s head, hugging him, shedding tears into his blond hair. “I will. I will.”

All around them, the rose bushes bloom full and pink.

And this is only the first half of the novel’s summary. They still have to get married and fall in love and Thor has to defend Loki’s honor and Loki of course gets pregnant again and they name the child in memory of Baldur and Thor must stop the war in Vanaheim and become king of Asgard and

*collapses*

[skyblue-369]

We are so many on this world, but everybody starts their path here in exact the same way, don't they?

Somehow, that was not my case because I shared my birth with only 42 other children.

On The Twelfth Hour Of The First Day Of October 1989, Forty Three Women Around The World Gave Birth. This Was Unusual Only In The Fact That None Of The Women Had Been Pregnant When The Day First Began.

One of those unfortunate ladies was my mother. I don't know much about her. Just that she happened to pass by a very calm city in Northern Italy when I burst in her life. She didn't even have the time to look at me in the eyes that she decided to leave me by the door of a catholic orphanage. I still don't understand the reason why she didn't at least try to raise me by herself, but it's better like this. I must have caused her a hard trauma, and in addition we would have both lived a sad existence knowing that she didn't want me in the first place.

Anyway, being a religious building, there were nuns to run it. They welcomed me with open arms and named me Maria, even though they saw right away what I was capable of.

They always used to tell me how everytime I cried they had to wear gloves to hold me up because I would cover their hands in musk. Or wait, wait, wait! Also that I created little flower patterns on most of the hall floors when I moved my first steps. Yeah, I can grow plants by the way, but let's move on!

I brought some troubles with me, but they couldn't see a monster through this little girl's laughter. I was just another God's gift that needed care and protection. Actually, precisely because I was special, I was the one to receive it the most.

Besides the common bedroom, I had a space all for myself to practice in. Someone would expect some private garden, maybe a backyard. Now that I think of it, mine looked kinda like a cage, a room whose floor was covered in a thick layer of soil. Only the roof was replaced with a glass one in order to give me access to sunlight. I was supervised for all of my "playtime", when I mostly grew food for our supplies. No high plants were allowed except for fruit trees. Sometimes they'd let me recreate some pictures from my botany books, nothing more. Those brick walls made me frustrated, but I was too superficial at the time to understand they wanted to prevent me from escaping.

People continued to reassure me that I was doing good and that everyone relied on me to survive. They drowned my curiosity with privileges such as eating sweets more often than the others, having a higher education or receiving better gifts at Christmas. I cannot say I was living in luxury, but the nuns did their bests to make me live happily.

On the other side, the only thing they couldn't replace was my lack of affection.

The nuns treated me too well, but the other kids didn't seem happy about it.

It's insane that we've lived under the same roof for so many years, but we felt like acquaintances to each other. Although there was tension between us, they were never mean to me. Or maybe they were just gossiping when no one was watching. As a kid, I didn't understand how true friends are supposed to behave towards you. However, I knew that in friendship there should be a sort of feeling of comfort when staying together, and well, we didn't have it.

At the beginning, I was trying too hard to gain their trust, but then I started repeating to myself "I'm way better than everybody here. I could grow a whole forest in less than a minute if I wanted to. Who needs them? I'll have crowds cheering me one day."

...weird flex but okay

Unfortunately, I hoped to escape my very first failure by finding a family. I insisted and I've had some meetings with nice couples. Even if I couldn't show my powers, I was flawless. Aaand I received total rejection.

Probably it was all just a set up. For once, I envied the other children. Who wouldn't in my position? I had so much love to give and I would have been a good daughter! What have I possibly done wrong? I remember crying on the floor of my private room a few times and getting surrounded by weeds when I got up.

Time passed by and I ended up being eleven and without a family.

I used to dream about moving to the Amazon forest to look for a new species of flower. Maybe I would have found a guy who could talk to animals, who knows?

And then, I fell on a banana peel and slid into a series of unlucky events.

One day, we were having lunch and a silly argument came in. I'm still a teenager, it should be pretty normal at my age, shouldn'it? These two kids were mocking me and they were getting really heavy on me. I wasn't used to insults. Moreover, those words looked more and more like pieces of a bigger truth to me, so much that I hurt myself by pushing my hands over my ears. However, it was a single phrase that started it all.

"How can you even think that someone would love a narcissistic freak like you?"

I remember falling on my knees and closing my eyes, hands still on my ears. I just wanted silence, just for a moment. And I had it, indeed. It's only that when I opened my eyes, I saw them. The boys were lifeless, speared by some big branches all covered in blood. Branches that I made. It was my fault. It was my fault.

I needed to be calmed by those I thought as my loved ones, but I just receieved a shocked stare by every single nun. Some were standing still, while others were taking the children away.

"I can't stay here..." my body finally responded and I started running away. I restrained myself from throwing up. I went out and while I was climbing over the gate my left leg got stuck into a tube full of screws. I took it out right away without caring about my open wounds or how much they were making me suffer. I had to go on, I didn't even know where. I was finally visiting the world I wanted to see so desperately and I didn't even realise it. Eventually, I got to the harbour and both the stress and the seagulls put me to sleep in a ship container.

When I woke up, I didn't expect to be on the other side of the world. A bunch of sailors had brought me to the hospital of a little mountain town in the States called Anise Peak. When the nurse spoke English to me I freaked out. Luckily, I had taken some English classes at the orphanage and I could get away with it. Of course I ran away. They would have called the police and have sent me back to where I was from. I was wandering again, this time in the woods that surrounds the city. I was feeling completely lost. The single thought of the horror I had just committed made me impossible to use my powers in the future, so my chances of dying were higher. Nevertheless, something made me change my mind. Maybe God wanted me to stay longer and decided to bring me to a waterfall. I was taking a cold shower when I slipped on a door of leaves and saw that there was a hidden cave behind the waterfall. Eventually, it became my shelter. I've lived in here for almost three years now. How did I make it?

Well, thanks to my abilities I don't really need money for food. But after a while, when I found out that I couldn't live only on vegetables and fruit, I had to make up something. Almost outside the city old Damien has a supermarket, who unfortunately had a big problem at getting fresh veggies in such a cold area. And here it comes a farmer who lives nearby and is always busy, so sends his daughter to offer the man his services. Every two weeks I magically give him tons of goods in exchange of a little pay and some products such as bread or soap. I know it's not legal at all, but people are simple here and Damien was making a lot of money anyway. For me, it's tiring because I feel dizzy after I grow plants for a long period and because of transport, but at least I could live decently. The problem is that I had to be subtle to people's eyes. At night I have to put out the fire, or if I have to go out aside from work hours I have to climb trees and walk very high. I learned with time, and my scars prove it. Or maybe I can't walk around the town because everyone would recognise a new face.

I cannot call this "life" or "home", but it's fine at the moment. I get lonely from time to time, but I can always spy on families that come here camping. It's not that weird and it improves my language skills.

Oh my! Are those...gunshots? From the woods? What the hell is happening? It's better if I go check...

If you want to know more, go check:

[kiiruna-a]

`  ☆┆THE MINIMALIST , ABOUT .

full name : henry kempe. nickname : n/a. specie : human. age : thirty-one. gender : cis male. pronouns : he / him. nationality : swedish. residence : värmland, sweden. occupation : farmer & swing dance teacher.

hair : shoulder-length, light brown hair usually tied up in some way. eyes : hazel, a mix of green & brown.  skin : pale skin which is often sun-kissed, with prominent moles & birthmarks scattered all around his body, as well as a few on his face. tattoos : a world map with the text “ die with memories not dreams “ on his upper back, “ breathe “ written on the side of his right hand, a bee on the inside of his left wrist, a plant & a beetle on the outside of his lower right arm. body type : 180cm, slender but with toned muscles, narrow shoulders & generally rectangular frame.

favorite color : green & brown. favorite animal : cat, dog, sheep & cow. favorite food : sweet potato, soup of all kinds & homemade bread. favorite drink : tea, coffee, elderflower cider & beer. favorite place : home, wheat fields, untouched forest, library/bookshop, plains, a cliff with a view & around animals. favorite sparetime : swing dancing, working in the garden, reading, cooking, having a cup of something on the porch, attending random study circles & lectures, cleaning the house, wandering, take care of animals, listening to music, biking & pottery.

positives : generous, open-minded, adventurous, creative, down to earth & charismatic. negatives : stubborn, predictable, unstable & unorganized. fears : needles, climate change & darkness. theology : agnostic. orientation : biromantic bisexual. shipping status : dualship, single in both verses.

     henry was born & raised in gothenburg, sweden. he was always a creative kid going the artistic route. his parents introduced him to music. they were both lower middle class parents working their asses off to provide for henry & his two sisters. the parents were rarely home, leaving the children to take care of themselves. the group of siblings had to grow up fast, cooking their own meals & putting themselves to bed. however, as fast as the parents were home, the empty apartment became full of life, & music was always blasting. everything felt more alive. to hang onto that feeling, henry would grow up with his headphones constantly plugged in. he found excitement & inspiration in music, started playing guitar, bass, switching from instrument to instrument hoping to find his calling.      growing older, henry was a part of a small band with other teenagers, notoriously making dansband music. you either hate it or you love it. however, it was not a kind of music for the big city. to get people to listen to them, the band would often perform in the outskirts. two hour long bus rides were common for them to find the stages they were welcome on, that or boat rides out to the small islands outside the gotheburg coast. having grown up in the middle of the buzzling city, henry had a picture of the countryside as dead & boring, but when he came out with his band he got a whole new picture. there, people were always happy, dancing, everyone knew everyone, the atmosphere was absolutely magical. it was also there where he started to realize he was a little jealous of the people in the crowd. where he stood, strumming on his guitar, he looked down on big dance floors full of people dancing. his crowd was usually that of people in all ages doing swing, fox trot, line dancing, & the boy always felt a need to join them. that’s where his passion for dancing started. even when his band wasn’t performing, henry would take those two hour bus rides out to renovated barns & town cabins to dance. he started taking swing dancing lessons on the side, slowly but surely getting so invested that the guitar started to dust. he left his band, he left his city, & instead he dove head first into the dancing community.

     henry wasn’t very popular in school, he would usually have a hard time relating to his classmates. he was a hyperactive teenager with his mind all over the place, he would talk too much & think too little. being the outsider didn’t bother him too much though, cause he had both a good family & a good chunk of friends outside of school. studying was a bigger issue though. his parents didn’t like that his grades, that were barely average to begin with, were only getting worse as he was practicing dancing rather than studying. however, they were very open minded, & really wanted henry to get an education while also not letting him lose his soul & passion. the young man dropped out of high school, only to join community college instead, where they had a dancing program. he could work on the necessary grades for a high school degree while dancing on the side. this community college was also in the middle of nowhere, plains stretching as far as the eye could see, & henry moved to the school dormitory as it was way too far into nowhere to travel back & forth every day. a new life.

    this place was henry’s home for a long, long time. he got to hang out with people that shared passions just like him; there were other dancers, but also painters, sculptors & textile workers. he got to grow up here, with teachers that listened to him, dorm-mates that would always invite him to beer, a nature that was wide, open & exciting, old houses that with wood that would scream as the wind got a hold of them, & a dance studio just outside. he thrived. he fell in love with the school, but he also fell in love at the school. ann-marie, a classmate, became his dance partner for life. the two fell hopelessly in love, & together they were unstoppable. they started competing, driving in an old, rusty renault car all over sweden, winning price after price in couple’s competitions, winning hearts wherever they went. she was the wind under henry’s wings.

     graduation eventually came to place, henry having gotten his grades, & together the young couple decided to conquer the world. after getting a name for themselves in sweden, traveling began to other nordic countries. from the nordics it came to europe. it was a constant fight, but a fight he loved every second of. years went by. flights went everywhere. his girlfriend became his fiance. the peak came; america. dancing among the top stars, people he had looked up to since he was young. the pressure was on. it was a constant fight, & he was really struggling now. the wedding approached, the competitions got tougher, the critics louder, the flights more stressful, the calls more frequent, the voices louder, the music louder, the----      he crash landed. hospital. undernourishment. fatigue. he wasn’t allowed to work any more, doctor’s orders. cancellations. worried voices. tests. even being off from work was too stressful to handle; he shut down. he took his last flight. he shut off his phone. even to his fiance he had to turn ice cold, because she was half his worries. the fear of disappointing her, the stress she had about getting him better, it was all too much. he had one friend, a guy he met at school, that still rented a small cabin close to the place henry still called home. he went there. he slept on a couch, but he got everything served, he didn’t need to worry about catching a single bus to the grocery store; all he had to do was rest & drink tea. the birds were singing outside during the day, & crickets during the night. everything was quiet. he had a cat, a cat that sometimes crawled up on henry’s stomach & purred. bread was freshly baked every morning.

    for the first time in a long, long time, henry felt like he could breathe.

    henry couldn’t go on tours anymore. he couldn’t compete. the moment he even thought about it his heart would start racing at a painful rate. his fiance was heartbroken. he couldn’t do it, not even for her. he wanted to stay like this. he wanted to forget all about conquering the world, cause it was all too big for him. he wanted a house in the middle of nowhere where he could grow his own food & worry about one thing at a time. she thought he was crazy. from the start, henry would always hyperfixate on something. first it was dancing, then it was her, then it was dancing again, & now it was--- this? she couldn’t have it. she gave the ring back. henry was too ashamed to admit it, but relieved at her decision.      the money that was left to him from their savings after dancing was used to buy a really shitty house in värmland, many, many, many hours from home. a completely fresh start. all around the big, run-down building was cow pasture, & the man who owned the cows were extremely kind on him. or, at least took pity on him. he didn’t know how to take care of a house on his own, especially not this old & far away from all things comfortable. henry started working for the neighbor on his farm, & there the other workers would teach him a lot of valuable lessons about taking care of animals, agriculture & a house. it was a rough first two years for henry, but it was a good kind of rough again; a struggle he loved every step of. every morning he knew he would make coffee on the stovetop & drink it on his porch, take on his dirty worker’s pants & work for the neighbor until late in the evening, then go back to bed & start all over again. eventually, his own house & garden also became a priority, a project, something he studied for & practiced, failed, practiced, learned. eventually he could harvest his first own potatoes & cabbages.

     life was regained again, everything balanced, his life absolutely minimalistic & joyous. it was then, when he felt completely recovered from his fatigue, that henry started missing dancing again. his own house was fixed, but he had one little piece left on his land, & it was an old run-down barn currently only used as a dusty, dirty storage. it was his new project. he renovated the place into a simple but fresh location where he could host dance lessons, dinner parties & let bands perform; much like the bands he was in back when he was a kid. the small community was extremely supportive of him, & he would start letting people rent the spot for all sorts of classes & activities. he got to teach old ladies to swing & would then invite them to parties in the weekend, where he would offer them homemade fruit wine. his home became a hotspot for activity & laughter.

     every morning when he sits on his porch, eating freshly made bread & drinking stoven-heated coffee, with a cat purring at his feet, looking out on the pasture & dirt roads around, he thinks about how happy he is to be alive.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                  Kang Ara, who is known by no other name;                                        a 19 year old daughter of Ahau Chamahez.                                                    She is currently unemployed.

FC NAME/GROUP: Lee Jinsook (Yeoreum), WJSN CHARACTER NAME: Kang Ara AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 19; January 10, 2000 PLACE OF BIRTH: Seoul, South Korea OCCUPATION: Unemployed HEIGHT: 5’2” DEFINING FEATURES: Large, doe-like eyes, flawless skin, button nose.

PERSONALITY: Ara is extremely passive, obedient and naive; just as she was raised to be. She speaks when spoken to, follows orders, and goes out of her way to do everything perfectly. An empath, she feels deeply for those around her and often puts the needs of others before her own. She has always been a caregiver, a motherly and comforting presence.

Or, that is what she has been like up to this point. She has spent her entire life under the thumb of a madman, so she has a lot of growing to do- especially in light of what she recently survived. She knows very little about the world outside of her secluded commune and how to navigate it, but her faith in her old way of life has been shaken and she is tentatively willing to see what the real world has to offer; but perhaps not yet ready to accept it.

HISTORY: (tw: cult, abuse, implied rape, miscarriage, mass suicide)

Ara, born Lee Jinsook, was kidnapped when she was two years old. Her MOTHER/FATHER left her in  a shopping cart while HE/SHE walked twenty feet away to get milk, and when HE/SHE turned back, HIS/HER daughter was gone.

From that moment on, Ara lived in a small commune known as God’s Meadow, and she was raised by God’s Heavenly Disciples- a religious cult who were indoctrinated to believe that anyone outside of their small community were sinful, evil worshippers of the devil. They were taught to be fearful of the outside world and lived in almost complete isolation. They had no modern technology, they were all educated by the cult, and as many members as possible were brought in as young children so that the cult would be all they ever knew.

Ara’s childhood was happy. She was raised by loving (if strict) parents, got to play with the other children in the commune, obediently did all of her chores, and had no idea of what she was missing in the outside world. It was only when she turned eight, and it was beginning to become apparent that she would be beautiful when she was older, that things began to change. Father Kang, their leader, started spending a lot of time with her. At first, it was nice. She got special treatment; nicer clothes, a nicer dwelling, specially made meals, and much more.

When she was fourteen, it was announced that she would be Father Kang’s wife. She was ecstatic, over the moon to be able to serve God in such a wonderful way. That enthusiasm disappeared after their wedding night. However, Ara was the perfect parishioner- she did not know that what Father Kang did to her was wrong, even though she did not like it. It was simply her duty, as his wife, to do what he wanted for him. And so she did.

Despite Father Kang’s best efforts, it took three years for Ara to get pregnant. She was nearly eighteen when she went into labour, and she could not wait to be a mother. She had been told since she was a child that her only purpose was to raise many, many children for her husband, and she wanted so desperately to do just that. But when she gave birth, the room was silent.

No crying.

No breathing.

The baby was stillborn.

Ara was devastated, Father Kang was livid.

Due to complications during labour, the doctor told Father Kang that another pregnancy might endanger Ara’s life. Father Kang did not care. However, after another eight months of failing to conceive, Father Kang married another girl, Jinah; who already had a husband and a few children. A woman who had “proven herself useful”, as he scornfully told Ara. She was still married to him, and he seemed to like her a lot more than his new wife, but she was defective.

“God has punished you. You’re only useful as a bed-warmer now, Ara,” Father Kang told her as he pulled on his robe and went off to spend the night with his other wife.

She did find some use for herself in the commune, though. She had always had some skill when it came to treating wounds and sickness, so she began to help out the doctor. She even grew her own little herb garden. It was not much, but it at least helped with her grief- and she proved to be very good at medicine.

A few months later, Father Kang gathered all of the residents of God’s Meadow into the recreation hall under the guise of throwing a party to celebrate the birth of his first child, who he called the Messiah. Wine was served and a toast was given. Everyone drank. Ara stood off to the side, unable to bring herself to join in the celebration. She was happy for Father Kang and Jinah, but she was still not over the loss of her own child.

She noticed that Father Kang did not drink either, although he did insist that his newborn baby be given a sip. After a few minutes, Father Kang noticed that she had not touched her drink and clinked his glass with hers. The look on his face told her that if she did not join in and drink, she would regret it.

Just as Ara was bringing the cup to her lips, a few people began choking and fell to the floor. She paused, horrified, and turned to Father Kang in a panic. He just smiled at her and gestured for her to drink. More people were affected now, moaning and writhing in pain on the floor. Ara did not understand why- a confusion that was only amplified when she went to set down her drink and go try to help everyone. Father Kang grabbed her roughly by the arm and forced the cup to her lips, pouring its contents down her throat before downing his own glass. “Do not be scared, Ara, we will all be in God’s arms soon,” he told her, pulling her in close. She tried to pull away, knowing that she could help the people dying around them, but he held her tight and he seemed to suffer the least. Her chest began to tighten, it felt like her blood was on fire.

She had always been a believer, the perfect disciple, but she did not want to die. Not yet. It was the first individual thought she had ever had.

But, luckily, Father Kang was much older. The poison worked quicker on him. Ara managed to pull herself from his hold and stumbled outside. He started screaming, but she did not even pause. She was crawling by the time she made it to her herb garden. Her vision blurred as she pulled leaves off of stems and crushed them in her palm- it was a crude concoction, but as soon as she swallowed it she began to feel better. By that time, all the noise from inside had stopped. The commune was silent. She was alone.

Ara packed up the few things she had, a little food and her herbs, and set off into the forest that surrounded God’s Meadow. She had no idea where she was going, or even if there was anywhere to go to, but she knew that she could not stay there alone. She stumbled through the countryside for five days before a farmer found her on the edge of his property, half-delirious from dehydration and hunger. He took her to the closest hospital, where she told them about what had happened. They did not believe her until the police went to investigate and found sixty-eight bodies in the commune.

However, they still did not believe that she had been poisoned and had survived. The only person who believed that was a particularly attentive nurse, one that offered to take Ara to a place where people like her belonged when she was released from the hospital. “If you really managed to cure that poison with just some herbs, you belong in Mount Phoenix.”

PANTHEON: Mayan CHILD OF: Ahau Chamahez POWERS: The power of rapid healing through application (bandage, ointment, potion) as well as the ability to ease pain and suffering through physical contact. STRENGTHS: Empathetic, optimistic, resourceful, a care-giver. WEAKNESSES: Gullible, under-educated, indecisive, set in her ways.

[carlcasale]

Beeflow Increases Pollination and Crop Yields

In recent years, the health of the planet has often been under discussion. With climate change and increasing urban populations, activists are concerned about losing numerous plant and animal species, along with their habitats. Many environmentalists believe bees are the key to keeping plant species alive, which can help increase food production and improve natural habitats.

Bees are responsible for 70 percent of the pollination that occurs in plants across the globe. When a bee lands on a flower, the tiny hairs all over its body collect grains of pollen. Bees use stiff hairs on their legs to collect the pollen and store it in pockets on their bodies. They then carry this back to the nest to feed their offspring, as pollen contains important proteins for bees.

Bees tend to be attracted to one type of flower at a time. In a garden or farm area, bees frequent multiple flowers on different plants. Many plants require this type of cross-pollination to produce viable seeds or more flowers. For example, some types of fruit trees and berry bushes require pollination from another nearby plant to produce any fruit each year.

Beeflow is a company specializing in helping farmers use bees to cross-pollinate their crops to produce more yield each year. The company begins by assessing each farm and strategically placing beehives near the target plant species. A team of agronomists (soil and crop experts) visits each individual area of the farm to determine the best placement, which can vary significantly between adjacent plots.

Beeflow also helps ensure bees are attracted only to the pollen of each specific plant. They begin by feeding the bees special plant-based organic molecules, so the bees are conditioned to want a certain species of plant. This helps keep the bees only on the target plants and makes them less distracted by other flowers. This attraction therapy is a key element of Beeflow, as farms often have yield issues due to bees initially finding certain flowers unattractive.

Bees also require specific nutrients to remain strong and healthy, especially in difficult climate conditions. Bees often become significantly less active during cold weather. Beeflow feeds their bees organic compounds that keep them healthy and can increase their work by up to seven times.

Beeflow’s pollination program can increase a farm’s yield by up to 60 percent. This can have a significant effect on each farm and could also help the global economy by increasing food production. Because bees pollinate the majority of all crops, they are responsible for adding an estimated $183 million to the global economy each year.

Beeflow also advocates for healthy environmental change. They seek to educate farmers on the overall importance of bees, which can reduce a farm’s need for harmful pesticides. Chemicals and synthetic materials can kill bees and disrupt their mating cycles, which in turn will reduce the farm’s crop yield. If the farm can begin to use bees to their advantage, they can produce healthier bee populations and reduce the necessity for environmental pollution from pesticides.

Several environmental and agricultural companies support Beeflow. One company, Ospraie Ag Science, uses the tagline “do more with less,” which is a key feature of Beeflow’s intended positive impact on the environment. Indie Bio is also a supporting company that invests in agricultural technology and start-up companies to cultivate sustainable health products.

[theafrofuturisticgal]

Earthseed Community: Everlasting Neutopia

My Earthseed community, Everlasting Neutopia, takes place in outer space on planet Olympia, where there is vast life, greenery, water, and food, similar to planet Earth. Its inhabitants describe themselves a native Neutopians, or the first of its kind on planet Olympia. This community is open to inhabitants of planet Earth seeking refuge now NATO, UN, CDC, and WHO have declared war citizens for population control and discrimination. This community's sole essence is surrounded by love, unity, equality and trust. Getting into this Earthseed community can be limited as only those with access to G6-WC94A aircrafts are able to fly from planet Earth to planet Olympia. Other than that, this community is open to all healthy individuals of different races, genders, and beliefs but limited to ages 16-50 (kids are allowed if you already have them or are expecting). Leadership in my community will consist of a council of 10 people that will help guide the community in the right direction. This council will be for the people and elected by the people, to ensure there is no political misuse or bias when putting individuals in office. The council will meet the policies and rules of the community that will be enforced are to ensure safety, respect and lawfulness amongst individuals such as no unlawful crimes are prohibited such as theft, murder and assault. In a sense, Octavia Butler states “to get along with God, consider the consequences of your behavior”, where to get along with others in this community, be kind and do the right thing (pg. 86).

The survival of my Earthseed community is solely based on kindness, respect, wealth and health. There is not one individual in this community who should go hungry or become homeless unless it is on their own doing. The council makes all life necessities available to inhabitants by not implementing laws that restrict farming and hunting and gathering for food and housing materials. With this being said, in order to provide plentiful resources to the community, the technology on planet Olympia is like no other. Not only is there a weather machine, controlled by the council to ensure there are enough adequate days for harvest and farming, there is also an irrigation, filtration and food recycling system that allows for more than enough water for this community, clean water to drink from and filtering for waste water to be reused for farming, and a recycling system that allows compost to be reused for meals and gardening.

To provide a better future for Everlasting Neutopia, the council has implemented lifelong education for all inhabitants, as they can go to school for free. This is efficient because in Everlasting Neutopia, the community believes in an “I teach you, you teach me” mantra. Once a student finishes school, his or her contribution back into the community is to teach others while their teacher pursues something new to, in the end, teach others that new topic. Also to provide a better future for Everlasting Neutopia, health and wealth is the biggest aspect for survival. By the use of technology, there can never be disease in this community as food is modified to produce no infectious diseases from pests and insects and wealth is accumulated through generations of farmers, technologists, scientists, educators and the council members, hence going bankrupt is a personal choice.

In the end, this new community is the beginning of many, trying to flee from something in order to start something better. Some are new to this and some have experience with starting from the bottom up. In Everlasting Neutopia, to combat those fears of new life, as things change for the better (or worse…hopefully not), “kindness eases change” (Butler, pg. 167).

Word Count: 618

[thebestintoronto]

Savvy Things to Do with Kids in Toronto on a Budget

Like all huge cities, Toronto can be a pricey area to see. When you need to pay admission for the whole family members, expenses can truly add up fast. We have assembled our listing of fun points to do with youngsters in Toronto on a budget plan. As an added bonus much of the things on this listing are free!

St. Lawrence Market

The St. Lawrence Market is a fantastic place to start your day out as a wise traveler. Explore the marketplace, then acquire a well known peameal sandwich from the Slide carousel Pastry shop for breakfast.

Seize the day to get components for an outing lunch by ordering some fresh bread at one of the pastry shops, some newly sliced luncheon meat from the butchers and also some fruit from a vegetable stand.

Prefer to have your sandwich already made? The Italian family members food bar in the cellar makes a mean Chicken Parmesan on a bun.

We additionally enjoy to beg the bulk food store way in the back of the basement for a few wonderful treats.

St. Lawrence "southern" Market is open Tuesday thru Saturday. Every Saturday morning is the Farmer's Market, which is momentarily moved south of the 'southern' Market. Make good sense?

Smart Suggestion: If you're traveling by car, there is a huge metropolitan 'Eco-friendly P' car park, held up from The Esplanade to the south. Every Saturday as well as Sunday morning, auto parking is only $1/hour for the first two hours.

Toronto Island

Toronto island is a guaranteed much-loved with children. The experiences begin with a 10-minute ferry watercraft ride to Centre Island that is sure to please any kind of little traveler.

The alternatives of points to see as well as do on the island are countless. There is Centreville Theme Park if the kids intend to take place trips. There is a stroking zoo, playgrounds, dash pad, life-size puzzle as well as coastlines galore! Bike services are readily available for exploring the island.

We love to pack a picnic lunch, get hold of a spot by the play area and dash pad and have a lazy afternoon watching the kids run around and also play.

Expense: Rate of return-trip Toronto Island ferry tickets, which are $7.50 per adult as well as $3.65 per youngster (age 2-13). After that, you can invest as much or little as you like!

Wise Idea: On summertime weekend breaks, Toronto Island is incredibly popular. Miss the lines by getting your ferry tickets in advance internet.

Allan Gardens

Allan Gardens is just one of Toronto's earliest parks, situated in the heart of the city at Jarvis Carlton, simply a brief stroll from the Eaton Centre. The centrepiece of Allan Gardens is the big indoor agricultural conservatory, which includes various flower shows throughout the year, in addition to a long-term collection. The youngsters will certainly appreciate a play area and also any canine friends will certainly like the two fenced off-leash areas for canines.

Its like a little oasis is the middle of a busy city. Best of all the park as well as sunroom is free!

Queen's Park

Queens Park is house to Ontario's legal buildings. There are free excursions of the structure and also the grounds that are provided all year. Look into the The Legislative Assembly of Ontario for more details.

If you are checking out on Friday's in the summer with children ages 6 to 12 check out their Family Enjoyable Fridays.

Toronto Railway Museum

For those who like trains, look no further than the Toronto Railway Museum, located in Roundhouse Park at the base of the CN Tower, Ripley's Aquarium as well as the Rogers Centre. Kids will enjoy having a look at every one of the recovered trains both inside the gallery and also exterior in the park. There is likewise a play ground for youngsters to blow off some stem.

Entry to the gallery is $5 for grownups and $3 for youngsters. There is also a miniature train that young and old can ride on for an added tiny cost.

While you are there, consider taking an educational trip of Vapor Whistle Brewery. The kids will like viewing the bottling production line as well as the grownups will love the consisted of samples of beer!

Go to the Beach

Toronto has some fantastic coastlines right in the city. The closest coastline to downtown is Cherry Beach. You can quickly arrive by taking a street vehicle.

Seeking to explore out further ... head east to the Beaches neighborhood. We delight in taking a stroll along the boardwalk and seeing all the beach battery ball games.

Go Ice Skating

Toronto has a lot of outside skating rinks in the winter season. Two downtown are Nathan Phillips Square (town hall) and Harbourfront Centre. Both locations develop into an enjoyable household friendly celebration at night with music playing.

Don't stress if you haven't brought your skates or helmet. You can lease them for a low cost at both areas.

The post “ Savvy Things to Do with Kids in Toronto on a Budget” was seen originally on Savvy Family Travels

Intravenous Hydration Clinic Toronto Ontario - Dr. Amauri Wellness Centre - Dr. Amauri Caversan, ND