#dairy farming challenges

[farmerstrend]

Kenya Dairy Board’s 10-Year Plan: More Milk, Sustainability, and Climate Action

The Kenya Dairy Board unveils a 10-year plan to transform the dairy sector by focusing on sustainability, increasing milk production by 2.5 billion litres, and ensuring environmental and economic benefits for farmers. Kenya’s 10-year Dairy Industry Sustainability Roadmap aims to produce an additional 2.5 billion litres of milk annually, promoting sustainable farming, reducing greenhouse gas…

[aziraphales-library]

hi <3 do you have any recs for long multichap fics that are NOT slow burns? thank so much!

Hello! There are not enough fics tagged "fast burn" so I also did a search for "established relationship". Enjoy...

its duty is to harm me, my duty is to know by natalunasans (T)

the title is from a cohen song about death, & also applies to life... whether in london or in tadfield; together, alone, or in (usually good) company; the ineffable partners talk out their fears, try to figure out what they are and what to do with themselves, now that they're not working for heaven and hell anymore. domestic softness > action, but there is some plot and angst (off and on)

Don't Drag Me Down by rowenablade (M)

Armageddon didn't happen, Heaven and Hell have agreed to leave them alone, and Aziraphale and Crowley are free to build a life together. But the forces of Hell aren't happy with losing, and even if they can't directly harm their wayward demon, they can try to drive a wedge between him and the angel that he loves. After all, Crowley had been encouraging them for centuries to get creative.

The Starting Hinge by lucky_spike (T)

When a rare book collector is mysteriously killed, DI Barnaby and DS Winter are on the case. Meanwhile, the question of what will become of the victim's extensive library stirs a small group of rare books collectors into a furor. Who can be trusted? - This is predominantly a Good Omens fanfic with some Midsomer Murders thrown in just because I could do it and I wanted to. Contains death of an OC and (obvs) murder and attempts thereof. Nothing gory, though, so party on.

Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise (M)

A narrative of certain events leading up to The Big One, in strict accordance, as shall be shown, with the nice and accurate prophesies of Agnes Nutter, witch. A Good Omens sequel, set thirty years in the future...   Thirty years after a failed Armageddon we must face The Big One, as Heaven and Hell, working together, enact a plan to fix the world or destroy it forever. Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley discover that truly being on their own side has more implications than they’d ever have guessed. Changes to the basic metaphysics of the universe. A second book of prophesies. Mysterious twins on a mission. Hijinks and shenanigans. Deep questions, laughs, ridiculous banter and sexy stuff. Welcome to my attempt at an epic Good Omens sequel.

Considerate Omens by OneofWebs (M)

Crowley is plagued by dreams of a life he lived long before time had even begun. It's two years after the Apocalypse-That-Didn't, and though he's got a healthy bit of fear of what may come next, choosing to ignore these dreams seems a much better use of his time. In those two years, Aziraphale had moved into his flat, and they may or may not be dating. They don't talk about it, but they do get along just fine with their play-pretend routine, which proves a bit rickety when neither of them age. To avoid suspicion, Aziraphale thinks it wise that he spend some time presenting as a woman. This, a catalyst to the end Crowley had feared before, because it's hard to resist the idea of children when the opportunity presents itself. - [The Continuation of Good Omens]

Bleating Hearts by HKBlack (E)

Meet Doctor Aziraphale Fell, university lecturer of English Literature, Shakespearian expert, and man with an unexpected goat in his office. When the handsome herder who comes to catch the unruly visitor asks some pointed questions, Aziraphale finds his life suddenly turned upside down and filled with both new challenges and opportunities. But is Crowley all that he says he is? And even if he isn’t–does it really matter when he’s clearly a piece of the puzzle missing in Aziraphale’s life? Trip on over to Devil Doe’s Dairy and Goat Scaping Farm, where the cheese is always smooth, the goats climb roofs, and true love might just be around the corner.

- Mod D

[openmindcrimecook]

Recipe tutorials

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Culinary travel adventures

[heartfullofleeches]

please elaborare on alien yan and them thembo cow reader

(Just a not so little dairy farmer and the extraterrestrial who's got the hots for them and not totally isn't trying to lure them onto their ship)

Fresh mountain air, wide open fields for you and your herd. It wasn't always easy, but this was certainly the life for you.

Early on, you did everything thing to conform to human society. Taken in by a family in a place where people like you were the norm life was pretty easy - say for strangers tugging your horns when you were too small to defend yourself and mooing at you on the street, but that problem took care of itself once you towered over your bullies later on with the strength to match.

The only challenge you faced afterwards was a thirst for a life that never was. Living in a bustling city, you never experienced the outdoor life yourself, but you grew up on the romanticized portrayals - and fell more in love with the real thing when you finally got a taste visiting a close friend's family farm. It was then and there you decided to pack up and move out to the country once you had the funds. As luck would have it, that friend called you up with an offer you couldn't refuse when they heard about your future plans. Overnight, you were the new owner of a farm and on your way to living the life of your dreams. Wished they'd told you more about the surveillance cameras you found hidden around during a deeper inspection of the place, but you'd manage.

You adored the change of scenery. There was a town a couple miles out so you weren't completely alone, but you had your animals to keep you company. Majority of your business comes from that town, but you've been taking a little break recently to take care of your herd and the bizarre events happening around your barn. You normally let your cows go free range, but two of them have gone missing without a trace. You've found strange symbols carved into the wood of your home and fields, the stocks from the harvest bundled neatly at your doorstep. Day by day, you started to regret not asking more about those odd cameras - especially since your friend hasn't answered any of your calls recently, but now's not the time to focus on that.

You've got a visitor.

Tires crunching atop the gravel road, an old beat up truck pulls up to the side of your house. No deliveries were scheduled for today, so you guessed they might've needed some assistance or looking to by something for the road. As the driver steps out of the vehicle, you're fairly surprised. They were big as you if not bigger; a slight hunch in their back obscured their full height. You've never met a human around your size and you couldn't see any features so far that would mark them as a hybrid. It was hard to see most of them really. A baseball cap was pulled over their eyes and the lower portion of their face was covered by a cloth mask. The only reason you knew was because they were staring right at you, all the way over at the open barn. The bovine at your side nudges your shoulder as you look back.

"I'll be back back soon. Okay?" You stroke her head and lead her back to the rise of the ground, picking up the filled bottles of milk and your bucket on your way out. The driver is inspecting your front door by the time you make it down the small hill to your humble home, picking at the flaking wood with their black nails. One foot on the porch and they're back focused on you. You still can't see their eyes or face, but their cheeks crinkle like they're smiling.

"Afternoon."

Their voice is...off. It's scratchy and hoarse like they haven't had a drink of water in days, but it reminds more you of static. Must be rough for truckers this time of year. "Afternoon! What can I do for you?"

The driver looks their feet, brows scrunched as they mutter to themselves. "H...ha.. Happen to have something to drink on you? I'm quite parched from my... travels."

"Course, kind of our main business here." You joke, reaching ingo your bottle for a glass. "On the house. Not to sound rude or anything, but you sound like you need it."

You hand the fresh bottle of milk to the stranger who graciously it off your hands - popping the top and taking a curious sip of the sweet cream. Their jaw shifts as they swish it around on their tongue, stiff shoulders relaxing some.

You fix the bill of your hat, horns making the task the toughest of your load. "Hope it's to your liking. Comes fresh from barn!"

The stranger studies your face and horns; eyes slowly falling to your chest and the cow print pattern of your tee. In a flash they're throwing their head back and down the entire bottle, lapping at its rim and snaking their slender tongue down its hole. It hits the bottom of the glass, pulsing against its floor. Maybe they were a hybrid -longest tongue you've ever seen. They stop only when their hat starts to slide back to fix it. You've never seen anyone so excited for your milk before - you hope the girls will be happy to hear this when you feed the herd later on.

"So, what are you doing in this parts? Haven't seen a delivery truck come by that wasn't one of mine in months."

A hairline crack runs the wall of the bottle. "I.... "ve just been on the road with no destination in mind. Searching for my place in the universe, but the country air is nice too. Think my trucks finally giving up on me, and I saw a sign for your farm down the road. Do you have a room I can stay in till I get it working? Food won't be an issue for me.. I can repay you with my services for now and send some money late on. Please..."

The poor thing. You rest your hand on their shoulder. "Slow down, it's alright. You don't have to pay me back or anything. Just focus on getting back on your feet, okay. The guest soon is a little junky right now since I haven't unpacked all my things, but you can wait in the living room while I'm moving things around. Welcome aboard."

Patting their arm, you swing the screen door open and step inside, inviting the in. Walking closer, their attention is taken by the wind chimes handing above your door, moreso the stains they reveal. The stranger takes off their coat and throws it on the chair outside your home. Your tail swings behind you with each step you take - so close yet so far. No - patience. They already had one slip up earlier with their lines. They'd rehearsed so many times, but not once did they conquer the hypothetical where you asked about them. It was the most logical option, so of course they skipped it. Their sweet cow would do nothing but offer a hand to the unfortunate. That's why they loved you so.

In their searches they found nothing to save this planet from its fate, but in the end one member of it's superior class would live on - in the stars.

[askamydaily]

FINALLY ...

I don't have to care about gender reveal parties.

(The following column runs in newspapers across the country on May 24th, 2024)

Dear Readers: After 21 years writing the “Ask Amy” column, I’m announcing that I’m leaving this space. My final column will run at the end of June.

I’m healthy, happy, and 64-years-old. This is a decision I’ve been wrestling with for over a year.

When I was first hired by the Chicago Tribune to write an advice column after Ann Landers’ death, I was a middle-aged single mother. My daughter Emily and I moved from our long-time home in Washington DC and relocated to Chicago. 

[Emily and Amy, Freeville, NY. Photo by Chris Walker for the Chicago Tribune]

My welcome to Chicago was to deliver a solo performance of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” in front of 35,000 baseball fans during the 7th inning stretch of a Cubs game at Wrigley Field.

This turned out to be a metaphor for my experience writing this column, which has been an exuberant and sometimes nerve-wracking effort of trying to hit the right notes before a huge audience. 

After several great years in Chicago, Emily left for college and I moved back to my tiny hometown of Freeville, NY (pop. 505), to spend time with my sisters, aunts and cousins, and to be with my mother at the end of her life. 

My experiences have mirrored those of many of my readers. For me, these last two decades have been about the intensity and consequences of both love and loss. 

After returning home, I promptly tumbled into a Hallmark Channel plotline, when I fell in love with and quickly married a man I’ve known since childhood (we grew up on neighboring dairy farms). My husband Bruno and I then blundered into the oftentimes awkward blending of our family of five daughters. 

[2008, Freeville, NY]

I became a stepmother, and then a grandmother, all before I believed I was ready. 

My mother and her three wonderful sisters are gone, now. A niece and nephew died, tragically, while in their teens. Much of my recent life has been absorbed by caregiving, mourning, and recovery.

Day in, day out -- over the last two decades – readers have generously shared their own vulnerabilities about many of our common experiences. I’m grateful that we’ve been able to help each other.

I’ve burned through eight laptops, opened bushels of postal mail, written columns in the car, on board planes, in hospital waiting rooms, on my honeymoon, and at my mother’s bedside. During this time, I’ve also written two books, a screenplay, and scores of essays. 

Doing this work has sent me into therapy. It has inspired me to explore the teachings of world religions, and to seek the insight of thinkers like Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung. I’ve quoted the wisdom of Maya Angelou, Joni Mitchell and Fred Rogers -- as well as dozens of poets, social scientists and psychologists. 

I’ve made my share of mistakes, been well-pranked – at least twice (that I know of), and learned how to apologize, ask for forgiveness, and to forgive other people for their own mistakes. Inspired by readers’ dilemmas, I’ve also worked hard to mend fractured family relationships and to be a better friend.

My personal experiences are a reminder that we humans can’t really control what happened before or what happens next. Joy, like grief, comes at you in such unexpected ways. That’s why it is so important to pay attention. I’ve learned to do that.

Being an advice-giver has challenged me to be aware of cultural, social, and relationship trends -- and to appreciate the quirks of human behavior.

When readers get frustrated by my lengthy answers to sometimes petty problems, they will often suggest that I should just tell people to “get a life!,” but I think that wrestling with our questions – from the quotidian to the profound – is living.

For the next month, I’ll continue to publish fresh columns and rerun some favorites. After that, my fantasy is to drive an RV across the country, visiting people I’ve met through this work who have challenged me and tantalized readers with their anonymous requests for advice.

In my hometown, I’m opening a little lending library. You can find me on social media, through my Asking Amy newsletter, at amydickinson.com, or at the Freeville Literary Society on Main Street – talking books with kids and offering advice to anyone who asks.

Love,

Amy

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Bleating Hearts

Meet Doctor Aziraphale Fell, university lecturer of English Literature, Shakespearian expert, and man with an unexpected goat in his office. When the handsome herder who comes to catch the unruly visitor asks some pointed questions, Aziraphale finds his life suddenly turned upside down and filled with both new challenges and opportunities. But is Crowley all that he says he is? And even if he isn’t–does it really matter when he’s clearly a piece of the puzzle missing in Aziraphale’s life? Trip on over to Devil Doe’s Dairy and Goat Scaping Farm, where the cheese is always smooth, the goats climb roofs, and true love might just be around the corner.

Length: 186,422 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Human AU, Romance, Pick-me-up

Triggers: Talk of animal death, references to past partner abuse

Read it here, fic by HKBlack

*Minor Spoilers* I should be used to it now, but the fact that our blorbos fit so effortlessly into a Goat Herder AU is frankly ridiculous. I fear I may never get over these characters. This is such a great read. Here Crowley is our Goat Herder, while Aziraphale is a Doctor of Literature. Their meet cute begins with a goat invasion in Aziraphale's office. Naughty Bentley goat! Their chemistry is electric, as always, but here it has an extra friendliness. This isn't enemies to lovers, they just genuinely enjoy each other right off the bat. This also isn’t a slow burn, but they do actually take the time to date and ease into the bigger steps. I loved watching their love story, and falling in love with the farm alongside Aziraphale.

A bulk of this story will follow Crowley's past and family. Sometimes family plots like this can either be a chore or just kind of exaggerated. But the relationship Crowley has with his father was just as engaging to me as the romance plot. The feeling of tension in every scene is so strong. Anyone with toxic family can relate. And it brings a real depth to this human version of Crowley. Aziraphale also has a strained family life and while I liked what we got, I wish there was more of his family in this. We don't get a scene with his mother and I would have really liked to have that. The family that matters through is the one they’ve made for themselves. The community around the farm really is the perfect found family story. Newt is especially used to great effect here. I could read a million words of this universe and never get bored I think.

These goats are more than just a silly AU. It truly is an entertaining and strangely fitting setting, and you really begin to care for the flock. The author has an excellent voice, and kept me hooked the entire time. And the length is absolutely perfection. Explicit scenes are in later chapters, but are all marked and skippable if that's your thing.

Read it here, fic by HKBlack

[catinheadlights]

I regularly eat meat so maybe take this with a grain of salt, but I think when people try to "own" the concept of veganism with "facts and logic" as either a diet or a moral stance, they generally misunderstand what they're trying to criticize.

Like, you can say that the "real" problem with animal agriculture is capitalism encouraging animal abuse and factory farming, but like. Vegans know that's bad. That's not the only problem they have with the industry. You've got the slew of environmental problems it causes plus the whole, y'know, killing/exploiting animals thing that they don't like.

Someone who values the life of a chicken as equal to that of a human won't give two shits if it had a good life before being slaughtered, because to them it's the moral equivalent of killing a person for food. By saying that they're simply ✨wrong✨ for seeing a problem with the killing part, you're missing the entire point. "It had a good life" hardly means anything if you don't think of human life as inherently more valuable. You can disagree with that premise all you want, but you're not gonna change their minds.

I also challenge you to actually come up with an argument for why you feel human life inherently matters more than all nonhuman life, because I've never in my life seen a cogent argument for it that includes all humans and excludes all nonhumans. It's just that evolution hardwired that value into most people (including me, I agree). I think it's fine to feel that way and live accordingly, but you should know where your values come from. Vegans act on that too - getting rid of an infestation would be the equivalent of mass murder. This isn't a dig, by the way, it'd be impossible to have a decent quality of life if you stuck to "humans = nonhuman animals" completely.

I see people tossing around eggs and dairy as morally fine because they don't require killing the animals that produce them, but everyone seems to conveniently forget what they do to nearly all the males. It's not practical for farmers to keep all the males alive for their natural lifespan because they aren't economically useful. Some very small farmers might, but it's never going to happen on any remotely large scale. Something tells me that the "killing animals is bad" club isn't gonna be happy about that.

Also, I don't know what's up with people making shit up about domestication but:

Livestock was, in fact, domesticated. Yes, this includes laying hens. We'll breed anything for efficiency.

The purpose of domesticating an animal doesn't dictate what is morally okay to do with it (ex. if you bred dogs specifically to fight, it wouldn't make dogfighting more moral).

In a similar vein, no, factory farming never reduces the need for cropland, and the animal agriculture industry as a whole doesn't either (hint: it's mostly factory farming). I don't know where people get the idea that animals somehow magic nutrients/energy into existence, but a lot of crops are grown specifically for livestock feed, which is less efficient than growing crops directly for human consumption due to trophic levels and waste production. If you insist otherwise, please take a biology class.

I do think that putting so much focus on individual action is a bit silly considering how giant animal agriculture is as an industry and how heavily subsidized it is. Put some of that energy into changing policy please. It'd probably be more useful.

[simmeringsccfinds]

Mods Good For Medieval Gameplay

So I have had plenty of people ask me where I get my medieval CC for my Ultimate Decades Challenge on YouTube. I'm currently working on a video explaining this, but this post will be a great start for those who want to start their own medieval challenge. I'll be updating this page periodically as I play through my challenge. There will be tags for each period I play. Not everything I have in my game is listed on this post currently. Eventually everything in my game will be reblogged on this tumblr.

Build Mode

Moriel

Mother0f70

Sims4Medieval

SimVerses

TheSenseMedieval

TheSimsResource

MissChipsa

CAS

SimVerses

TheSenseMedieval

TheSimsResource

MissChipsa

Gameplay

100 Social Interactions

Archery Skill

Auto Shorter Teens

Blacksmith Career

Blacksmithing Skill

Book Texture Replacements

Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything

Control Any Sim

Create Yarns from Wool

Custom Harvestables

Dairy Production

Don't Wash Dishes Where You Angry Poop

DR Trash Assortment

Fireplace Lighter Replacement

First Impressions

Free-Range

Functional Broom

Functional Loom

Functional Pottery Wheel

Functional Silk Farm

Functional Water Pump

Harpsichord Skill

Happy Haunts

Healthcare Redux

Historical Mods by Zero

Home Region

Ignore Privacy

Life Manager

Life Tragedies

Limping Walkstyle

Lute Skill

Make Computers Obsolete

MC Command Center

Medieval Activities

Medieval Easel Paintings Replacement Defaults

Medieval Interactions

Medieval Mop

Medieval Retail Therapy Overhaul

Midwife Career

Missing Plumbob 

More Woodworks

Nap on the Ground

No Bits/Pieces for Candles

NPCC

Phone to Notebook Replacement Mod

Playable Harp

Practice Sword Fighting

Present Box Override

Purchase Custom Animals

Purchase Herbalism Ingredients

Rambunctious Religions

Realistic Child Birth

Release Bladder Anywhere

Royalty Mod

Scrub Faster

Simple Living: Outdoor Retreat Campfire Fix

Soap Making Station

Steady Sit & Seat Any Sim

Sulani Hiders

Talents & Weaknesses

Tarox Medieval Toilet

Tartosa Hiders

Timeless Mod

TSM Community Voting Board

Wicker Making Station

Wonderful Whims

Write with Quills

Ye Olde Cookbook 

[secretariatess]

The Milkmaids and the Partridge

So, because I usually write other world fantasy, where Christmas doesn't actually exist. So writing a fantasy Christmas story for me . . . wouldn't be undoable, I guess, but it would take a lot more work than I wanted to put in.

So the theme was "Twelve Days of Christmas," which is meant of the literal days of Christmas and not the song. But I'm being very loose with all of this and using inspiration from the song, and inspiration from the real Christmas story.

It's more of a fairy tale than anything, so hopefully it's enjoyable despite my liberties, lol. It's under 5k words (which is surprising for me!)

For the Christmas Inklings Challenge, @inklings-challenge

 Once upon a time, in the Realm of the Ten Lords, there was a humble dairy farm on the outskirts of the town.  This dairy farm, known to most as the Starry Night Farm due to its uniquely painted barn, was owned and run by eight milkmaids.  These milkmaids were not sisters by blood, but considered themselves such all the same because of how close they got over the years.  The start of their friendship is truly an interesting story, but it is not the story right now.

 These milkmaids all lived in the space over the barn.  It was not a very large space, as they did not have many cows, but it kept them warm and provided beds for them, so they were quite content with their lives.  Their cows produced some of the finest milk in all the realm, and so they had met many a traveler seeking to taste the milk.

 Now one of their duties was to make sure their pastures were fit for their cows.  A good pasture led to happy, healthy cows, and that was part of their secret for their milk.  The milkmaids took this task very seriously and always kept a sharp eye out for anything that might pose a danger to the cows.

 It was one morning that Spirit, for that was the name of one of the milkmaids, noticed that there was a patch of foxtail growing in the corner of the pasture.  Now see, foxtail was not very good for cows, as the spikelets of the foxtail could get into the noses and ears of cows and cause great harm.  Spirit promptly got rid of it and thought that that was the end of it.

 The next day, Comfort, another milkmaid, saw foxtail growing in the corner of the pasture, and she took care of it before any of the cows wandered over.  Like Spirit, she thought that was the end of it.  But the next day, and the day after that, all the milkmaids had encountered the foxtail, each believing that they were responsible for getting rid of it and not realizing that their fellow milkmaids had done the same thing.

 It was not until Spirit saw the foxtail again, and this time, there was more of it.  She said to her fellow milkmaids, “Dear sisters, see here- I have removed this foxtail but a little over a week ago and it has returned in a larger bunch.”

 “You have removed it?” said Meek, another milkmaid who was normally quiet.  “Why, I have removed it myself only a week past! It has returned already?”

 “That is quite odd,” said Suffered, yet another one of the milkmaids.  “For it twas only yesterday that I removed a patch of foxtail.”

 It was then discovered that all of the milkmaids had removed a patch of foxtail.  The rate of its growth alarmed them.

 “Dear sisters, what should we do?” asked Patience, wringing her hands.  “If it will only come back, and in larger amounts, removing it will get us nowhere!”

 “Come now,” chided Righteous gently.  “There is no use getting in a tizzy just yet. We will ask the Nine Ladies for their wisdom about what we should do.”

 It was a very good idea, and the milkmaids agreed to trek into town at the end of the week.  The Nine Ladies were fond of dancing, and held a dance every end of the week.  They were married to the Ten Lords, save one.  This Lord fancied his leaping, as the rest of the Lords were, but thought that getting married would only tie him down.  He wanted to spend as many years as he could to leap as high as he could before he settled down and got married.

 It was a jolly sight when they arrived.  Half the townsfolk had arrived to participate in the dance, and the music was merry.  For those who were not as nimble on their feet, or perhaps were recovering from having partners who were not as nimble on their feet, there was a large banquet set up for them to enjoy, courtesy of the Nine Ladies.

 The milkmaids approached the table of the Nine Ladies, who were resting after spending only a few hours on the dance floor, and curtsied low to them, as one does to show respect to a noble.  In truth, the milkmaids were not used to curtsying as they spent much of their time with their cows, and one does not curtsy to a cow.  Because of this one or two of them thought they would tip over before they could straighten.  Fortunately, they did not.

 “Oh great Ladies of the Realm,” said Pure, rising up from her curtsy and clasping her hands together as though she were praying.  “We have come to implore you for your wisdom, as we are faced with a terrible problem and do not know how to get rid of it.”

 “Speak girls,” said the Lady in the middle, whose cheeks were red and jolly, “and tell us what your problem is that we may help you.”

 “Great Ladies of the Realm,” said Pure again, addressing them so that she may not be seen as rude, “we discovered a patch of foxtail growing in our pasture a little over a week ago. It was not too much of an issue for us, but we found out that it was growing every day, and recently we discovered that it has come back nearly twice the size. It is not good for our cows, and we are concerned about the damage it will cause them. What should we do about this foxtail that will not go away?”

 “Oh, fear not!” said the Lady at the end on the right.  “That is an easy enough fix. What you need is a partridge.”

 “A partridge?” repeated Pure.  She remembered her manners and quickly added, “Oh Great Lady?”

 The Lady at the end on the left nodded cheerfully.  “Truly! That is all you need. There is a partridge in the Garden of the Eleven Pipers- if you go to her, you may be able to persuade her to return with you. When she does, she will eat your foxtail, for that is what partridges like.”

 The milkmaids all curtsied low at this advice.

 “Great Ladies of the Realm, we thank you for your help,” said Pure.  “We shall be ever grateful.”

 “Now, now,” the Lady to the left of the Lady in the middle, “rise up and smile. Perhaps you will join us for some time in this dance!”

 The milkmaids did as the Lady requested, and danced for joy at the solution to their problem.  When they returned that night, for they spent many hours dancing, they prepared themselves for the journey to the Garden of the Eleven Pipers and put away their cows with a lot of hay to ensure their happiness.

 The Garden of the Eleven Pipers was on the other side and would take a few days worth of travel to get there.  The milkmaids had never been there themselves, but they had met people who had, and they were told it was a wonderful place.  So they were excited to see its wonder and bring back the partridge.  It was agreed to take a sack of seeds with them to present to the partridge in order to persuade her to return with them.

 In the morning, they set off, singing to each other all sorts of joyous songs.

 As they journeyed on, they came upon the Great Horned Owl.

 The Great Horned Owl was sleeping, and was not happy with being disturbed from his slumber by their joyful singing.  He settled on the side of the path, peering at them blearily with narrowed eyes as he tried to make them out.

 “Too-hoo! What is this to-do?” he hooted, blinking slowly.  The daylight bothered his eyes so.

 “We are going to the Garden of the Eleven Pipers,” said Peace, stepping forward.

 “The Garden of the Eleven Pipers?” hooted the Owl.  “Too-hoo! That is a long journey.”

 “It is only a few days,” said Peace.  “It is not too long for us.”

 “Too-hoo! I see,” said the Owl.  “Now why would eight young milkmaids be going to the Garden of Eleven Pipers for? Is this part of the Realm not satisfactory for you?”  The Great Horned Owl was a nosy fellow, and had to know about people moving about where they usually did not go.

 “We are going to find a partridge,” said Peace.  She showed him the basket they prepared for the partridge.  The milkmaids had agreed that it would be much more comfortable for the partridge to sit in a cushioned basket than to be carried by their arms or walk the whole way back to the Starry Night Farm.

 “A partridge? Too-hoo! What an odd thing to look for,” said the Owl.

 “We need the partridge to help us with the foxtail in our farm,” said Peace.  “It is growing at an alarming rate, and the Nine Ladies told us that a partridge will eat the foxtail.”

 “Too-hoo! Is that true?” said the Owl.  But the Owl was jealous.  He prided himself with helping all who came across his path with his wide range of knowledge, and he did not like the idea of the milkmaids seeking help from another bird.  Why wouldn’t the Nine Ladies send them to him?  He could have figured out a solution to their problem.

 “It is true!” confirmed Peace.

 “Well then, too-hoo!” said the Owl, devising a plan.  “When you come back, why don’t you show me the partridge before going back to the farm? I have some foxtail myself that I would like to get rid of. If this partridge can do it, than I would like to have some of her time.”

 The milkmaids agreed, because they did not know that the Owl was scheming.  He did not have any foxtail that was growing anywhere, so he certainly did not need the partridge for that.  He instead hoped to eat the partridge whole, so he could remain the only bird to whom the humans asked for help.  But the milkmaids could not have known this, for he was very convincing.

 So they continued on their way.  After a few days, they stood at the entrance of the Garden of the Eleven Pipers.  No one really saw the Pipers at work in the Garden, but they knew they were there, somewhere among the plants and trees the Pipers grew.  The Garden was enormous, and the Pipers allowed anyone in to come and rest, and to eat the fruit and vegetables of their garden.  It was a refuge for many creatures and people without any other place to go.

 But because it was so large, the milkmaids realized that it would take them quite a while to find the partridge.  They wandered here and there, stepping around the carrot patches and the tomato plants, twisting their way around the apple trees and blueberry bushes, until they came upon a sparkling creek winding around the orange trees.  In this creek were seven beautiful swans, swimming about and coming together to share some exciting information before drifting apart again to think of something else that had happened to them that week.

 The milkmaids quietly approached, not wanting to startle the swans.

 One of them took noticed and let out a welcoming honk.  “Welcome, welcome! Now, what brings the eight of you lovely milkmaids here?” cried one of the swans.

 “We are looking for a partridge,” said Meek, stepping in front of the other milkmaids.  “We were told by the Nine Ladies that we could find her here, but we do not know where to look for her.”

 “Oh, the partridge!” exclaimed the swan.  “Oh yes, we know the partridge. She joins us for our weddings and birthdays, you know.”

 “And when we have feasts!” piped another swan.  “She is quite a lovely thing, and we certainly enjoy her company.”

 “Perhaps you could point us in the right direction?” asked Meek.  “We are beginning to feel quite lost.”

 “Oh, but of course!” said the second swan.  “Now, if you go down that way, you should come out to some very lovely banana trees. There are usually some geese there who know just about everyone here in the Garden. They will tell you where the partridge likes to go.”

 “Thank you very much!” said Meek, and she meant it.  For it is not every day that one gets lost in a giant garden.  The experience was quite overwhelming.

 The milkmaids followed the swan’s advice, and sure enough, they came across some banana trees with six geese who had made themselves quite cozy at the root of the trees.  Their nests were big enough to hold fully grown humans, and they were made with the softest, finest things that the geese could find.  The geese were very particular about their nests, for once every week, they would lay one egg.  And then on the seventh day, they would all rest and care for the egg they laid.

 They were resting on this day, sitting happily on the eggs they laid and dreaming of the gooseling they would get to meet shortly.

 When the milkmaids arrived, they lifted their heads contentedly.

 “Excuse us, madams,” said Mercy, stepping forward this time.  “Perhaps you could tell where we might find the partridge? We were told that you would know.”

 “Why, of course dear!” said the first goose.  Her voice was that that only a mother could have when talking tenderly to a child.  “We know exactly where she is. She likes to roost among the pear trees.”

 “Thank you, kind madams,” said Mercy, giving a little curtsy.  She did not know if it was proper to do so, but it felt wrong to not do so.  Her fellow milkmaids followed suit, giving the geese a respectful curtsy.  “Perhaps you could tell us where the pear trees are? We are new to the Garden, and do not know our way around.”

 “Oh, you poor dears,” fussed the second goose.  “Wandering around the Garden, and no idea of how to get anywhere? It is a wonder you got this far then, I shouldn’t wonder. We would take you ourselves if it weren’t for the fact that we mustn’t leave these eggs alone. The Garden is safe, but it never hurts to be careful.”

 “Well, I shan’t tell them to go alone,” said the third goose.  “I would not want them to wander off and get lost again. Even with the best directions you can always take a wrong step, and next thing you know, you’re in the pumpkin patch!”

 “No need to worry,” said the fourth goose calmly.  “We shall send the calling birds with them. They will know where to go, and can stay with the girls so that they do not get lost. Now, you must wait for them,” she told the milkmaids sternly.

 The milkmaids agreed and settled themselves by the geese while the fifth goose let out a loud honk to tell the calling birds to come to them.  While they waited, the milkmaids told the geese of their mission, and the foxtail that was growing in their pasture.  The geese sympathized with their plight and fussed over the long journey that the milkmaids had to take to get the Garden.  The milkmaids let the geese fuss over them, for it was better to let the geese care for them and not to tell them that they did not need the care.  As it was, it felt nice to be cared for.  The geese made sure they still had enough food and water to continue on, and to make it back home.

 The two calling birds arrived shortly after the geese confirmed that the milkmaids would be able to travel quite comfortably.

 “Greetings!” said the first calling bird.  “We heard that someone is in need of our service?”

 “Yes, yes, these poor dears are looking for the partridge,” said the second goose.  “They are quite lost, as it is their first time in the Garden. Would you be so kind as to escort them to the pear trees so that they do not get lost?”

 “Most certainly!” said the second calling bird.  He swept into a bow as only a bird could.  “We can bring you straight to the partridge! However, we must tell you, that you will have to wait until nightfall to speak with her. For she is a very busy bird and does not come to rest until night.”

 “We can most certainly wait,” assured Mercy, giving the calling birds a curtsy in turn.  All this curtsying was making her legs tired.  She was not used to having to do this.

 “Right this way, then!” said the first calling bird.  He took off from the branch where he had landed and swiftly wove between the trees.  The second calling bird only took off when the milkmaids had started to follow, occasionally flying behind them or perching on their shoulder.  The first calling bird stopped when he had gone far enough, making sure the milkmaids knew where to go.  The second calling bird stayed with them to make sure they did not take a wrong turn and get lost.  He also had a very good singing voice and knew a great deal of songs, many of which he taught the milkmaids as they made their way to the pear trees.

 It was early evening when they arrived.  The calling birds brought them directly to the pear tree where the partridge would rest.  The milkmaids rested their weary legs underneath the tree.  Even though they tried to maintain a conversation with the calling birds, they eventually became too tired and fell asleep.

 They were awoken by a bright light from above them.  Looking up as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, they saw light from a very bright star as a partridge came to rest in the branches of the pear tree above them.  She peered down at them curiously.

 “It is not every night that I come to find visitors beneath my tree,” said the partridge.  “What brings you here?”

 “O Great Partridge,” said Comfort.  She used such great titles because that is how one addresses the Ladies.  And if this partridge was to save them from their foxtail problem, it was only logical to refer to her like this.  “We have come to plead for your help. Our farm has a problem with foxtail- my sisters and I have all pulled it up, but it keeps returning. We were told by the Nine Ladies that you would be able to help us.”

 Peace held up the offering of nuts.  “We have brought you these as part of our request to come back with us,” said Peace.  “If you do, we will be forever indebted to you, for the foxtail is harmful to our cows, and our cows are our livelihood.”

 The partridge looked quite pleased with the request.  But not a pleased where she looked proud, but rather a pleased that she was happy they had asked her.  “Of course, daughters, I will come with you and take care of your foxtail. Now settle yourselves back to sleep so you are rested for the journey. In the morning, we shall head out.”

 The milkmaids thanked her profusely and settled back into sleep.

 In the morning, when they were still rising from their slumber and getting themselves ready to go, they were approached by three hens who prided themselves with knowing a language known as “French,” which was spoken in a realm very far from the Realm of the Ten Lords.  Though there were some who suspected that the hens had just made up a language of gibberish and claimed that it was real to make themselves seem well educated, especially since they could not speak any known languages besides the common tongue.

 But these hens were not here to boast of their language skills.  Instead, they looked quite concerned.  “Dear mademoiselles, you must not return the way you came,” they told the milkmaids.

 “Why is that?” asked Suffered.

 “We have it on good authority that the Great Horned Owl is expecting you,” they informed them.  “But he is not looking to get rid of foxtail, as he had told you. He was sharing with some of his friends how much he was going to enjoy partridge for dinner someday. If you return the way you came and meet with the Great Horned Owl, he will surely eat the partridge.”

 “Oh dear,” said Meek.  “That is something that we cannot let happen! But then, how are we to return?”

 “There is a hamlet of twelve drummers,” they told the milkmaids.  “Up in the hills, south of the Garden. If you go to them, they will provide you a way home.”

 The milkmaids thanked the hens for their advice.  They tucked the partridge all nice and cozy in the basket they brought for her, supplying her with their offering of nuts.  They then followed the hens’ advice and headed south out of the Garden.

 It was a hard journey to the hamlet.  It consisted only of twelve houses and one meeting house.  Each building sat on a hill of its own, and each hill was steep.  The drummers, who were not drummers by trade, would sit outside of their houses and drum with each other.  They only left their hills when they had to go to the meeting house to discuss important things that oculd not be said yelling across the dips between hills.

 When the milkmaids arrived, such an event demanded the use of the meeting house.  The drummers saw them from a long way off and were waiting for them there already.  The milkmaids collapsed on the ground, too tired from the journey to show proper decorum to the drummers.  Tearfully, the milkmaids told the drummers of their plight.  The drummers comforted them, telling them that they were safe.  The drummers provided for them blankets and makeshift beds so they could sleep in the meeting house.  Before bed, both the drummers and the milkmaids ate a lovely dinner of fruits, nuts, vegetables, and meat that each drummer harvested from his own hill.  The partridge remained in her basket, happily observing the dining.

 In the morning, the drummers came to the milkmaids.  They presented them with five golden rings.

 “These are magic rings,” said one of the drummers, who used congas.  “We use them when we want to leave the hills. They will take you back to your home without the Great Horned Owl’s knowledge.”

 The milkmaids thanked them as profusely as they thanked the hens.  They all partnered with another of the milkmaids, with Pure carrying the basket with the partridge.  One of the drummers, the one who played a timpani, accompanied them to show them how to use the rings and to take the rings back home after ensuring they got back safely.

 When they arrived at the Starry Night Farm, the milkmaids further showed their gratitude by gifting the timpani drummer with twelve bottles of their finest milk.

 They set the partridge amongst the foxtail, which had overtaken the whole pasture in their absence.  The partridge immediately set to work, eating away at all the foxtail.  When enough of it had been eaten, the milkmaids let the cows out, who had been safely shut away.

 Unbeknownst to the milkmaids, the Great Horned Owl realized that they were not going to return the way they came.  Enraged by their trickery, he himself flew to the Garden in hopes of finding the partridge.  Not knowing what a partridge looked like, he made sure to eat all the quail and grouse who considered themselves safe in the Garden.  When he realized that he still had not caught the partridge, he headed back to the Starry Night Farm to exact his revenge.

 The milkmaids were out in the pasture tending to their cows when the Owl arrived.  Talons spread, he swooped towards Spirit, who cried out in fear.  Her fellow milkmaids rushed to save her, but it was the partridge who jumped out in front of Spirit.

 The partridge fought fiercely, caring not that the Owl was bigger than her, nor that his talons were sharp and made to snatch her up.  To the Owl’s great surprise, she was stronger than she appeared and above all, determined.

 Just as the sun started to sink beneath the trees, the battle ended.  The Owl dragged himself away from the site of the battle into the uneaten foxtail and died from his wounds.

 The partridge remained where she was, beaten, bruised, and bloodied.  The milkmaids rushed to her side to find that she was already dead.

 The milkmaids wept bitterly, placing her in the basket that had been serving as her bed.  They brought the basket into the barn where they mourned the whole night.  Their tears exhausted them and they fell asleep around the basket.

 Morning came and peered through the slats of the barns.  The milkmaids blinked awake in its gaze.  There, in the middle of the largest sunbeam, sat the partridge, alive and well!  The milkmaids cried out in amazement and happiness.

 “O Great Partridge!” gasped Righteous.  “We thought you were surely gone! How joyous is it that you are not!”

 “Death could not keep me, daughter, after such a sacrifice,” said the partridge.  “I said I would take care of your foxtail, and I am not one to go back on my promises.”

 With great rejoicing, the milkmaids returned the pasture with partridge.  The carcass of the Owl was thrown out by the road, where worms, scavengers, and flies discovered it.  The partridge remained with the milkmaids and ate their foxtail.  The cows continued to be healthy and happy, and produced even finer milk than before.

For now, at least, they lived happily ever after.

[farmerstrend]

How Boehringer Ingelheim's LastMile Program is Transforms Lives of Smallholder Farmers in Kenya

Discover how the LastMile program is transforming the lives of smallholder farmers like Grace Njeri in rural Kenya, empowering them with essential animal health services and education. Learn how access to veterinary services and sustainable farming practices is helping smallholder farmers in Sub-Saharan Africa improve their livelihoods and escape poverty. Explore the inspiring story of Grace…

[atlanticcanada]

Canadian families will pay $1,065 more for groceries in 2023, report says

Canadians won't escape food inflation any time soon.

Food prices in Canada will continue to escalate in the new year, with grocery costs forecast to rise up to seven per cent in 2023, new research predicts.

For a family of four, the total annual grocery bill is expected to be $16,288 -- $1,065 more than it was this year, the 13th edition of Canada's Food Price Report released Monday said.

A single woman in her 40s -- the average age in Canada -- will pay about $3,740 for groceries next year while a single man the same age would pay $4,168, according to the report and Statistics Canada.

Food inflation is set to remain stubbornly high in the first half of 2023 before it starts to ease, said Sylvain Charlebois, lead author of the report and Dalhousie University professor of food distribution and policy.

"When you look at the current food inflation cycle we're in right now, we're probably in the seventh-inning stretch," he said in an interview. "The first part of 2023 will remain challenging ... but we're starting to see the end of this."

Multiple factors could influence food prices next year, including climate change, geopolitical conflicts, rising energy costs and the lingering effects of COVID-19, the report said.

Currency fluctuations could also play a role in food prices. A weaker Canadian dollar could make importing goods like lettuce more expensive, for example.

Earlier this year the loonie was worth more than 80 cents US, but it then dropped to a low of 72.17 cents US in October amid a strengthening U.S. dollar. It has hovered near the 74 cent mark in recent weeks, ending Friday at 74.25 cents US.

"The produce section is going to be the wild card," Charlebois said. "Currency is one of the key things that could throw things off early in the winter and that's why produce is the highest category."

Vegetables could see the biggest price spikes, with estimates pegging cost increases will rise as high as eight per cent, the report said.

In addition to currency risks, much of the produce sold in Canada comes from the United States, which has been struggling with extremely dry conditions.

"The western U.S., particularly California, has seen strong El Nino weather patterns and droughts and bacterial contaminations, and that's impacted our fruit and vegetable suppliers and prices," said Simon Somogyi, campus lead at the University of Guelph and professor at the Gordon S. Lang School of Business and Economics.

"The drought is making the production of lettuce more expensive," he said. "It's reducing the crop size but it's also causing bacterial contamination, which is lessening the supply in the marketplace."

Prices in other key food categories like meat, dairy and bakery are predicted to soar up to seven per cent, the researchers found.

The Canadian Dairy Commission has approved a farm gate milk price increase of about 2.2 per cent, or just under two cents per litre, for Feb. 1, 2023.

"The increase for February is reasonable but it comes after the unprecedented increases in 2022, which are continuing to work their way through the supply chain," Charlebois said of the two price hikes of nearly 11 per cent combined in 2022.

Meanwhile, seafood is expected to increase up to six per cent, while fruit could increase up to five per cent, the report said.

Restaurant costs are expected to increase four to six per cent, less than supermarket prices, the report said.

Rising prices will push food security and affordability even further out of reach of Canadians a year after food bank use reached a record high, the report said.

The increasing reliance on food banks is expected to continue, with 20 per cent of Canadians reporting they will likely turn to community organizations in 2023 for help feeding their families, a survey included in the report found.

Use of weekly flyers, coupons, bulk buying and food rescuing apps also ticked up this year and is expected to continue growing in 2023, the report said.

"We're in the era now of the smart shopper," said Somogyi, also the Arrell Chair in the Business of Food.

"For certain generations, it's the first time that they've had to make a list, not impulse buy, read the weekly flyers, use coupons, buy in volume and freeze what they don't use."

Last year's report predicted food prices would increase five to seven per cent in 2022 -- the biggest jump ever predicted by the annual food price report.

Food costs actually far exceeded that forecast. Grocery prices were up 11 per cent in October compared with a year before while overall food costs were up 10.1 per cent, according to Statistics Canada.

"We were called alarmists," Charlebois said of the prediction that food prices could rise seven per cent in 2022. Critics called the report an "exaggeration," he said.

"You're always one crisis away from throwing everything out the window," Charlebois said. "We didn't predict the war in Ukraine, and that really affected markets."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Dec. 5, 2022.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/276zLTk

[radley-writes]

Thank you! That incident was several years ago, and thankfully hasn't been repeated.

As for animal facts - I'm no expert. I just grew up surrounded by farms with a lot of livestock! I only know the Animal Handling Basics, which amount to:

a) never get into an enclosed space with an animal unless you have a planned escape route.

b) try not to split the herd

c) treat livestock with respect, give them space, and - for the most part - they'll return the favour

d) but always be aware that they can be unpredictable and don't get complacent.

For cows in particular, the sum of my knowledge is taken from my mum & dad, who worked with cows for a long time, and personal experience. It might be wrong! I'm open to correction! But here goes...

Meat bulls are big hefty sweeties. Like, obviously, don't approach them, don't piss them off, don't glare at them or make direct eye contact - they'll take that as a challenge. But they're probably not gonna fuck with you so long as you give them space and don't fuck with them. They're chonkers and lazy with it. I'd happily walk through a field with a meat bull that I knew the temperament of so long as we could give each other space.

Dairy bulls.... bastards. They're more temperamental, more lean and more mean. I would steer clear of these altogether unless you know how to handle them.

Heffers will fuck with you, but only out of LOVE. They are so soft and friendly and curious! They want to sneef you. They want to lick you. They want to cuddle and step on your feet (ow). They don't tend to be dangerous, but the usual laws of 'give them space and respect' apply. If there are a lot of them, it can be scary! If there are a lot of them surrounding you and they spook, or you run, it can be nasty. But if a group of them do approach, they're probably not being aggressive - presuming they're not showing obvious signs like.... bellowing or whatever. Just pet them and assuage their curiosity and slowly keep walking. Don't make any sudden movements and you'll be fine.

Even if a bunch of heffers are in your way and you have to 'split the herd' to go through... this is obviously anecdotal based on one person's experience, but I've done this a million times and survived. Just go slow and talk real soft to let them know you're there and just passing through, and they'll usually budge outta your way or let you go around, no problem. But do try to avoid this situation if you can!

Cows with calves - NOPE NOPE NOPE. I try to never ever go in fields with calves now, even if they're far away. Unfortunately, sometimes the farmers stick 'em in fields where the only footpath goes, so I don't get a choice - it's that or a five mile return trudge, and ain't nobody got time for that.

If you're facing aggressive cows, it sounds counterintuitive but.... stay calm and don't run.

They can run faster than you. They outweigh you. If it comes to a fight OR a race, they will win - so you want to disengage without giving them chance to attack.

This means...

Don't turn your back on them - they'll take that opportunity to attack.

Don't look them directly in the eye - they'll take that as an invitation to attack.

Walk slowly backwards towards your escape route, keeping your movements calm and non-jerky.

Generally speaking, it's best not to shout or be aggressive back (see the above point: if you get into a fight, they will win). Talking quietly - to try and keep yourself and them calm - is a good idea.

But if they're right up in your face and trying to get you on the floor to trample, it's time to put your coat out like fucking batwings, make yourself big as possible, scream in their face, and punch them on the nose (which is what my mum did to make one cow in particular back off during The Incident! She didn't actually make contact, but holy fuck she was gonna beat that cow up if she had to. Suffice to say, I'm very glad she didn't have to, because she would've lost. But as a last resort..... nose and eyes.)

And always always always shut gates after yourself. No one wants cows on the road!

[water9826]

Cursed Guardians (A JJK Fic)

AO3 Link

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Start Here

It is vital that you retrieve this, Ryomen.

I know. 

We cannot let any of those humans get in our way.

Of course not. I’ll kill them if they try to stop me.

Kill them? Heh. The sorcerers won’t like that.

Do you think I care? I can handle their ire. This is far too important.

I agree, but try not to burn the place to the ground. 

It’s tempting. All of these people are just worms desperate to consume whatever shit is available. I’d be doing them a favor.

Hm. And here I thought you were growing fond of humans.

Never. The four sorcerers we acquainted are the only decent ones. The rest can rot.

There are civilians in this place, Ryomen. We would draw attention to ourselves if there are casualties. It'll be a pain to deal with. 

Like I said earlier, I don’t care. If they try to challenge me, then they die. Simple.

I see.

And what of it?

Nothing. It’s just that…Well-

Spit it out. 

It just seems that I have severely underestimated your dedication to capitalism.

“Shut up, Sukuna.” Ryomen hissed to himself. He was currently in the supermarket looking for a very special item. It had been sold out for months, but Ryomen refused to go home empty handed today. He would fight tooth and nail for what he desired. 

The Limited Edition SPECIALZ DELIGHT: A Ginger and Brown Sugar Ice Cream Swirl With Crunchy Caramel Bits from Cyclop Cat Creamery. 

The mere thought of the frozen treat made Ryomen’s mouth water. He shopped almost exclusively online, using a false address so the delivery person would not discover the location of the shrine. For the last several years, Ryomen had everything delivered to a small house a few hours away from their true home. The house had been abandoned long ago, but Ryomen had chosen it due to it being remote, but reachable for regular humans. Due to the multiple barriers and seals Infinite and Sukuna had placed, no one could enter the shrine without permission. If they tried, they would be killed instantly by the powerful wards placed throughout. By using the house, deliveries could be made without the messenger being spontaneously combusted or sliced into a million pieces. Additionally, the house used to belong to a farmer. At first glance, the fact may seem irrelevant, but it wasn’t for Ryomen. He was nothing if not prepared. The house was small, but it was built upon the vast land of a ranch. The farmhouse gave Ryomen the opportunity to use the place as a way to stock up on emergency supplies. 

Though, the supplies did not only include food or water. The farm the house was built upon was used to grow crops in case of a sudden apocalypse or if Ryomen had to hide his family away for the next decade. On top of that, Ryomen used the ranch to house cattle, chickens, sheep, and horses. This way, Ryomen would not have to purchase goods like dairy, eggs, or meat, things that expire quickly. That meant fewer trips to the store. And fewer trips to the store meant less humans Ryomen had to interact with. And less humans that interacted with him meant less chance of his family being found and killed . 

It was the perfect plan!

Ryomen had grown up on the streets in a village that saw him as nothing but a bad omen. The sensation of his stomach writhing in agony from starvation was more familiar than the warm feeling of a full belly. He was not taking any chances when it came to his son’s life. Yuuji would always have food on his plate and warm clothes on his back. 

The man was also no stranger to war. He knew what it was like to have no form of transportation, no form of escaping, during a time of bloodshed and chaos. He had many memories of falling asleep next to the bodies of the fallen as a young boy, pretending to be among the dead so the enemy soldiers would not target him next. When he made the deal with Sukuna, he had finally learned what it was like to be on the other side, to be the one causing the terror and death. From what he had observed as a boy and as a man, being able to retreat was what determined if you lived or died. So. Horses . Ryomen was familiar with horses, often sleeping with the hooved beasts in their stables during the winter because he had no other place to go. The horses Ryomen had now were descended from the original horses Ryomen had ridden into the many battles he waged. They were strong, loyal, and, most importantly, fast. His mind could rest easy knowing that his son would be able to escape if anything were to happen to Ryomen or Japan itself. 

And this paranoia did not worsen from the fact that his son was going to be starting public school soon. Nope. Ryomen was completely fine with that. 

Liar.

I know. 

He was not a trusting person, and he could not afford to be one no matter how many allies he obtained. After the fateful meeting with the sorcerers, Ryomen had taken it upon himself to venture out in search of the peach seeds that held his son’s soul while training the young sorcerers while also raising his precious son while also also having to look after six powerful beasts and one grumpy curse. Needless to say, Ryomen was exhausted, but he did not trust Sukuna to handle things for him. Not anymore. There had been a strain on their relationship after Sukuna had revealed his many secrets at the meeting. For the sake of Yuuji, the boy who loved his father and uncle so much that he could not bear to be without either of them, they had worked things out. They had fought for centuries, so what was one more fight? That was the mindset Ryomen held in order to keep his temper under control. Yuuji should not have to see his loved ones fight. For the following weeks after the meeting, Ryomen and Sukuna tried their best to act civilly or ignore each other as much as they could. 

As time passed on, they had begun a ritual of sitting by the pond, neither speaking to the other. They would not talk, scream, or even whisper. They simply basked in the peaceful silence. One night, however, Sukuna looked at the man and broke the quiet they had become accustomed to. Instead of the expected insult or sneer, Sukuna had apologized to Ryomen for what he had done. His normally brash voice was soft and remorseful. 

‘I know how special Yuuji is to you, Ryomen. I should not have kept the information of his soul’s whereabouts from you, nor the existence of Kenjaku. I’m…I’m sorry. I should not have assumed it was alright to omit so many things about your son. I thought it would be easier to wait and focus on caring for Yuuji, but I was wrong.’

It had shocked Ryomen to his core when he had heard the curse’s apology. There were several facts about the world. The sky was blue. Ice was cold. Fire was hot. Infinite was annoying. And, the most important fact of all, Sukuna did not apologize . Ryomen had never heard the curse admit he was in the wrong before that night. He had wanted to hate Sukuna, but Ryomen could not bring himself to. Even when he knew that Sukuna was still hiding things from him, Ryomen did not hate him. His trust in him had diminished, that would never return, but he had accepted the apology. Sukuna and Ryomen shared the same body and soul. They could not leave the other even if they tried. Even if neither wanted to admit it, Sukuna and Ryomen were brothers. 

The next few years had been much easier than the first with the additional aid of the sorcerers. Even though Ryomen was doing far too much, he was happy to see his son thriving. He would be turning five in a few days, and Ryomen could not ignore that fact any longer. As much as he wanted to stay in the shrine, Ryomen knew he had to go out and purchase the gifts that Yuuji deserved. The boy had even written the shortest wishlist imaginable after Sukuna and Ryomen practically begged him to ask for something. However, most of the requested presents were for other people, but Ryomen knew it would break Yuuji’s heart if he did not respect his son’s wishes. There were only three things that Yuuji wanted for himself, and Ryomen would rather be burned alive again than not get Yuuji exactly what he wished for. 

Knowing that the trip to the city would take a while, Ryomen had reluctantly asked the sorcerers to come to the shrine earlier than expected. For the past three years, the sorcerers had developed a training regime that involved them coming to the shrine once a week or once a month if they had too many missions. Not all four could come at the same time due to their differing schedules. Their visitation was timed carefully as to not rouse suspicions from the sorcerer’s elders. Nanami, the supposedly strict and avid rule follower, was the most skilled at sneaking out and deceiving the higher-ups. He came up with an interchanging schedule that his group could use to make the sorcerers’ weekly outings seem innocent. Due to the unexpected timing for today, only one sorcerer could attend. It was surprisingly Gojo, the sorcerer who was the busiest of all, who could take care of Yuuji. However, Ryomen had a feeling that Gojo would have skipped out on any mission just to see Yuuji anyway. The white-haired man adored Yuuji, becoming another uncle that Yuuji loved. The two got along like two peas in a pod. 

There was one drawback. Gojo was able to visit, but he had to bring one of his children to the shrine. His adopted son, Fushiguro Megumi, had gotten suspended after a nasty fight in school (a fight he had won) and needed to stay with Gojo. Ryomen was about to refuse until Sukuna urged him to agree. It was strange that Sukuna was so passionate about allowing the older child to visit, but Ryomen had relented and agreed. In the end, the choice was the correct one as Yuuji had squealed and smiled brighter than the sun when he learned that he would be getting to meet a new person. 

There was still much to do for his son’s birthday preparations, so Ryomen shook himself out of his thoughts and wheeled his cart towards the frozen dessert section. Ryomen had a bit of a sweet tooth, though not nearly as severe as Gojo’s, and was delighted to see no one in the aisle. It was early after all. Too early for most people to buy ice cream. 

The Cyclop Cat Creamery was, in Ryomen’s opinion, the best ice cream manufacturer in the country. Many pints of their ice cream had helped Ryomen get through his worst nights. Nights that involved him watching shitty telenovelas or dramatic family comedies on the couch, bundled in a blanket, and crying with a spoon in his mouth. All to distract him from the constant worry and stress he felt. Sometimes, Boogie would join him on the dramas he watched, as long as it featured pop-idol Takada-chan. The man and dog tearing up at each rejection at a sakura tree, each confession at a sakura tree, each break-up in the rain or sakura tree, each desperate sprint through an airport, each admittance of moving away, and even each family member who randomly gets sick. Takada-chan’s movies always had at least one of those events. Though, it was more likely for her films to have all six. 

…So, yes. Ryomen consumed quite a lot of ice cream. 

At least, Yuuji adored the flavors they had as well. Even Sukuna, who ate meat almost exclusively, was fond of the frozen treats. 

Hurry up!

Be quiet! I’m the one who’s paying!

Sukuna grumbled within his mind. Due to the nature of their shared soul, Sukuna could not stay in the shrine when Ryomen left it. He had to stay with Ryomen whenever he went outside their home. It was another reason why Ryomen hated going out in public. The curse would never shut up within his mind, always finding something to complain about. Ryomen received many odd looks when he would respond to the entity in his head, and it took all his self-control to not snap at the humans. He was a single father with too much on his hands. He did not have the energy to deal with the fools who stared at him as if he was insane. Ryomen probably had several screws loose, but he did not enjoy other people thinking that!

The coolness of the freezer aisle helped soothe Ryomen’s nerves. He first picked out Yuuji’s favorite flavors: BLACK FLASH , a dark chocolate ice cream with strawberry and raspberry swirls and LEFT, RIGHT, GOODNIGHT, an ice cream with three separate flavors that included milk chocolate, vanilla bean, and honeycomb. The titles were…odd. But the ice cream was good enough for Ryomen to not care for once.

Buy more.

I plan on buying several pints already. 

Good. Make sure you have enough to feed an army.

…

…

I expect you to tell me why.

…

Sukuna.

Fine. The brat and I will be having a competition to see who can consume the most frozen confectionaries. 

You mean an ice cream eating contest?

…Yes. It was on his birthday wish list…

Ryomen had to bite his lip to stifle a laugh. To anyone else, including Ryomen himself, Sukuna was the biggest asshole imaginable. Granted, Ryomen was as well, but his usual exhaustion hid his poor temperament. Sukuna was the type of person to push an elderly woman into oncoming traffic just because she asked for help crossing the road. An extreme example, yes, but it was great at showing Sukuna’s violent tendencies and astounding levels of pettiness. However, he was a completely different person with Yuuji. He would deny it constantly, but the curse was incredibly soft when it came to the boy. Ryomen shook his head with a small smile as he grabbed a few more pints. Once Sukuna deemed the amount of ice cream sufficient, Ryomen finally went for the flavor he had been waiting for for months.

At last! 

Just as his hand reached for the frozen dessert, another came and snatched the last pint of SPECIALZ DELIGHT before he could blink. It had happened so quickly that Ryomen’s mind needed a few seconds to process what had happened. 

OH, THAT FUCKING BITCH! LET ME OUT, RYOMEN! LET ME BEAT HER ASS! I SWEAR TO GOD, I’LL CUT OFF THAT HAND RIGHT NOW! THE FUCKING AUDACITY! STUPID BITCH! GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF SHIT CU-

With practiced ease, Ryomen ignored the unholy screeching within his head. He tried his best to have a pleasant smile on his face as he turned to the thief person. It was a middle-aged woman with streaky blond hair that was cut into a bob. Her makeup was slightly cakey from the excessive powder she likely used. She had several fake gemstones on her rings and bracelets. 

The woman looked at Ryomen with a disgusted scowl. “What.”

Sukuna’s creative swears and insults grew louder, causing Ryomen to suppress a grimace. He pointed at the pint the woman was holding. “I was about to grab that, miss. I know it’s the last one, but I’ve been waiting for the restock for months. You see, my son is having a-”

“I grabbed it first. Go find another pint for your son.” She pointed a gaudy pink nail at Ryomen. “I suggest looking at the clearance aisle, you people can’t afford this stuff anyway.”

Stay calm. Stay calm. STAY CALM . Ryomen breathed in deeply, his smile resembling a snarl more than anything else. “It’s for my son’s birthday. Surely, you can let go of the ‘finders keepers’ mentality since you are clearly not a child.”

“I don’t care about your damn spoiled brat of a son! This is mine! Go to some other store!”

“No.” Ryomen gave up on trying to be polite the second the crone insulted his son. The woman looked like she had just sucked on a lemon with how pinched her face got. 

“How dare you! Do you know who my husband is! I can have you arrested for this-”

“Do it.” Ryomen said coldly. The woman immediately froze. “I dare you.”

For a few moments, it seemed like the horrid lady was going to give up. However, she got over her brief lapse and scowled harder at Ryomen. “You people have no respect whatsoever! I’m going to call-”

“My people?” Ryomen asked with his fists clenched, already feeling them heat up. 

“Yes, you people! You damn activists that dye their hair and act like they're superior to everyone else!” The woman looked more like a tomato with how flushed her face became from anger. She stomped her foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “Leave us good people alone! I’m not giving you anything! Your stupid son can-”

It was as if the very air around them had gone still. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights could not be heard anymore nor the constant buzz of the refrigeration units. Finally, the woman realized the mistake she had just made. Her eyes grew wide with genuine terror as the man in front of her bore his piercing crimson eyes into her. For a second, it seemed like the tattoos beneath his eyes opened. She blinked hard, and the eyes disappeared along with the blood red gaze. Despite being in the freezer aisle, the atmosphere around them grew unbearably hot. This was the first time that anyone had ever scared her this much. Her hands began to shake as the towering figure came closer. 

Ryomen snatched the woman by the neck before she could utter a cry of help. He let his palms grow hot enough to burn. “The only reason that you’re still alive is because I have errands to do, so I can’t waste my time tossing your eviscerated corpse to the rats . Though, the rats don’t deserve such rotten meat. Perhaps the maggots would take you. They eat all worthless, putrid garbage after all.”

There was now blood streaming down the horrified woman’s neck as sharp claws pierced into her. She had dropped the pint, the reason for the argument, the second he grabbed her. Her hands pawed uselessly at the iron grip the pink-haired man seemed to have. 

“Your behavior is disgusting. If anyone behaves like they are above everyone else, it is you. You’re a rotten woman who no one will miss. I would say you have time to change your ways, but that would be a lie, wench. Now, get out of my sight.” Ryomen unceremoniously dropped the woman who collapsed onto the floor. Her neck was bleeding profusely and part of Ryomen wanted to let the old crone bleed out. However, his common sense kicked in. Leaving a dead body in a public supermarket would come back to bite him. Instead of slitting her through or turning her to ash, Ryomen begrudgingly healed her using his reverse cursed technique. His was not as refined as Sukuna’s, but it would do. After healing her, leaving no scrap of evidence behind, Ryomen picked up the tossed pint. He heard the hysterical sobs from the traumatized woman, but he did not acknowledge her whatsoever. 

Well done, Ryomen. Though, your outburst better not have melted our frozen confections!

“Shut up, Sukuna.”

-

If someone were to ask Satoru about wanting children as a teen, he would have laughed in the questioner’s face and mock the person for such a stupid question. ‘Hell no.’ He’d say. ‘Why would anyone want to take care of snot-nosed brats for the rest of their life?’ He’d jeer.

Well, his younger self could fuck off.

“Megumiiiiii-chaaaaan~” 

“I’m punching you next.” Megumi grouched from the backseat of the car. The eleven-year-old had gotten into a fight with several boys at recess. Based on his minimal injuries, Megumi had won the fight. The boys that had tried to gang-up on his boy were much worse for wear, bearing black eyes and broken noses and scratches that likely came from a protective demon dog. However, Megumi was cradling his right arm and would wince whenever the car went over a bump. There were little to no bruises or scuff marks on Megumi, but Satoru knew better than to ignore the risk of something internal occurring. 

After receiving a call from Megumi’s school, he had to ask Ijichi to drive him since it would be jarring if he warped there. The younger man agreed without fuss, sweating profusely as he readied the car. Despite his jittery nature, Ijichi’s skill behind the wheel was unmatched. It was the only time that Ijichi would appear calm and confident. Once they arrived, Satoru had to pretend that he cared for the feelings of the delinquents Megumi had injured and act like he was disappointed in Megumi. It could not be further from the truth, but Satoru needed to be a mature adult in front of the school’s principal. They had given no punishment to the group of boys that had initiated the fight, but had suspended Megumi for two weeks. The parents of the brats that had attacked Megumi tried to lecture Satoru on his parenting skills. He simply smiled at the morons, thanking them for the advice and assuring them that this wouldn’t happen again. If the school had not been the most secure place Satoru could find, he would have ripped those parents and the principal a new one. 

When Megumi and Satoru entered the car, the elder immediately burst into giggles. In his mind, Megumi was being punished for something minor. When Satoru was his age, he had done far worse things to others. Though, the fact that Satoru had been homeschooled meant that all his tutors were paid to deal with his preteen-self’s horrid attitude. He could get away with anything, but Megumi was not being taught by a private tutor. He went to a public school, and the school had rules. Perhaps suspension was warranted for the brutal beating Megumi had given the boys…Maybe. He needed the full story. Satoru had been trying to ask Megumi about what happened for the past ten minutes, but the boy refused to answer. 

As the scenery of office buildings and shopping districts changed to something far more rural, Megumi perked up considerably. His dark expression faded into one of curiosity. There were hundreds of questions brewing in the boy’s navy eyes. 

“Got something on your mind, Megs?” Satoru glanced at the boy.

Megumi huffed stubbornly, a trait he and the twins share. He tried to make his black hair cover his eyes, but it only made the boy look like he was pouting. Eventually, Megumi spoke. “Aren’t you gonna ground me?”

“I don’t think that was the question you wanted to ask.” Satoru teased.

“Just answer, Gojo.” Megumi demanded, though it lacked the normal fire the boy was known for. Despite how hard Megumi tried to appear apathetic or stoic, Gojo could read him like a book. The boy was nervous, likely believing that he was in deep trouble with his adoptive parent. He had a tension in his body that suggested that Megumi was expected to be struck or yelled at. It pained Satoru to see the boy struggle with the trauma his good-for-nothing father gave him. While Megumi never spoke of the first years of his life with Toji, Satoru could tell that it was anything but pretty. It left him with serious issues involving attachment, abandonment, and being more closed off than a clam. It made Satoru want to kill Toji for the second time. And a third. And a fourth-

He shook his head to rid himself of the murderous thoughts. Megumi was still awaiting a response, looking more uneasy than before. With a soft sigh, Satoru turned away, knowing that the boy hated prolonged eye contact. “I’m not mad at you, Megs. I would have done much worse in your shoes, but you showed restraint. You’re a smart kid, so I know that I don’t need to tell you not to do it again. Not because the bastards don’t deserve it, they did if you ask me. You know what you did wrong, and I know you like this school enough that you don’t want to be expelled. The principal is a jerk, sure, but I’ve seen how well the staff and teachers treat you.” 

“...You’re really not mad?” Megumi whispered, eyes wide. For once, he acted like the child he was supposed to be, which had become rarer and rarer over the years.  

“I’m not, Gumi. Promise.” The white-haired man only used the nickname when Megumi was in deep distress. It showed Megumi that Gojo was being sincere. As the road grew bumpier, made from dirt and not asphalt, Megumi’s curiosity returned. 

The preteen’s brow furrowed in the way that it always did when Megumi was thinking hard about something. “Where are we going?” 

“Remember the friends that Suguru and I visit every month?” 

“Yeah? What about them?”

“We’re going to visit them. They’re pretty reclusive, so that’s why you haven’t met them yet. They’re good people though. It’s thanks to them that Suguru doesn’t burn water when trying to boil it, heh. Anyways, an emergency popped up, and they had to leave immediately. Here’s the thing,” Satoru paused for dramatic effect, raising his index finger. The spiky-haired boy was listening with rapt attention and did not enjoy Satoru’s sudden stop. After several seconds of Megumi’s impatient glare, Satoru continued with a grin. “They have a son, and there was no one else available to take care of him. He’s four, but he’s as sweet as Tsumiki. Well behaved too. I know he is going to love having a new friend. The kid has no friends his age, so be nice to him. He also has… guard dogs that are really protective so do not summon your shikigami unless strictly necessary, ‘kay?” 

Silence followed as Megumi processed the information, analyzing every detail Satoru had provided. As the boy got lost in his thoughts, the road got even bumpier. Ijichi had driven this path several times, so he was able to smooth the ride enough for Megumi’s arm to not jostle. Satoru leaned back in the seat, taking out his phone and opening his favorite group chat. 

THE STRONGEST BITCHES🤞😎

infinity3435: @everyone

infinity3435: omw to see yujiiiii with megs o(≧∇≦o)

infinity3435: jealous @curse_gobbler ? 

curse_gobbler: not particularly.

infinity3435: ur such a liar

curse_gobbler: stfu

infinity3435: make me (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

lesbianmalpractice: can y’all not be gay for once

infinity3435: nope  ｡◕‿◕｡

curse_gobbler: no.

curse_gobbler: are u homophobic shoko?

lesbianmalpractice: only when it comes to you two.

infinity3435: wow ಥ_ಥ

lesbianmalpractice: the more fucking emoticons you use the more homophobic i’m gonna get

infinity3435: (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

Nanami.Kento: I thought that we established that this group chat was for emergencies only.

infinity3435: it is

infinity3435: telling you guys that i get to hang out with yuuji today while you guys are stuck doing boring shit is an emergency

infinity3435: very important info

lesbianmalpractice: ur such a dick

infinity3435: u love me tho (◕‿◕✿)  

lesbianmalpractice: not at all

infinity3435: (◕╭╮◕✿)

curse_gobbler: lmao

infinity3435: SUGURU UR SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE 

curse_gobbler: says who?

infinity3435: says your loving partner of 84 yrs

curse_gobbler: satoru neither of us are even close to being that old. you need to stop watching titanic so much

Nanami.Kento: Well, Gojo-san does have the white hair most elderly are plagued with. It is possible that he has fooled us all with his age. Perhaps that is why he acts so childish, it’s to throw us off. 

infinity3435: NANAMI HOW COULD U? ┗( T﹏T )┛

lesbianmalpractice: HAH

lesbianmalpractice: NANAMI JUST CALLED U A FUCKING GEEZER 

infinity3435: u guys are so mean (இ﹏இ`｡)

lesbianmalpractice: ╭∩╮(╹◡╹)

infinity3435: SHOKO 

lesbianmalpractice: ─=≡Σᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ

curse_gobbler: (•_•) ( •_•)>⌐■-■ (⌐■_■)

infinity3435: ALRIGHT QUIT IT 

Nanami.Kento: ୧༼ ºل͜º ༽ºل͜º ༽୨༼ ºل͜º ༽╭∩╮

infinity3435: WTF NANAMI

lesbianmalpractice: YES NANAMI

Nanami.Kento: Apologies if I used it incorrectly. I am not accustomed to this type of text.

curse_gobbler: u used it perfectly. couldn’t done it better myself

lesbianmalpractice: ^

lesbianmalpractice: @infinity3435 that’s what u get for shoving the fact that you get to see yuuji in our faces

curse_gobbler: ^

curse_gobbler: i’ve had to exorcize almost thirty curses and now im omw to excorcize more 

lesbianmalpractice: and i’ve been at the morgue all day 

infinity3435: sucks 4 u

Nanami.Kento: At least, the three of us do not have to spend extra time with Infinite. Even if Yuuji-kun and Megumi-kun are present, Infinite never misses an opportunity to train you. And, frankly, beating the shit out of you. 

infinity3435: HEY

Nanami.Kento: Now, please stop spamming this messaging forum. I have work to do. 

Nanami.Kento: Please tell Yuuji-kun that I said hello. 

lesbianmalpractice: goddamn i forgot how brutal nanami could be

cursed_gobbler: mhm

cursed_gobbler: well, i’ll follow nanami’s lead and log off. my train is almost at its stop anyway

lesbianmalpractice: yeah i gotta perform another autopsy soon

lesbianmalpractice: send pics of the little guys satoru

infinity3435: i will 

infinity3435: someway or another i’m gonna have megs and yuuji have a photoshoot 

curse_gobbler: good luck with that

curse_gobbler: you better send them 

infinity3435: you got it shnookums ( ˘ ³˘)♥

curse_gobbler: delete that this instant

infinity3435: no~

“I’m totally gonna start calling him that from now on.” Satoru giggled to himself. He put his phone in his pocket after turning it off. Now, the man could see that they had reached the expansive land of the ranch Ryomen… acquired . Using the rearview mirror, Satoru got to observe Megumi's smile as the boy pressed his face against the window like an excited child. The spiky-haired boy was none the wiser to Satoru’s stare, so he had dropped the indifferent front he tried so hard to keep. It warmed Satoru’s heart whenever Megumi acted like the eleven-year-old boy he was. 

Nothing made Megumi come out of his shell as effectively as animals. He watched the herds of cattle and sheep graze calmly on grass like it was the most intriguing thing in the world. The boy would also look at the many chickens across the lot with rapt attention, he had even unbuckled his seatbelt at this point to be as close to the window as possible. Both Ijichi and Satoru looked at Megumi with a fondness that anyone who knew the grumpy child would feel. After a few more minutes of driving, the house at the center of the ranch was visible. Several horses could be seen relaxing or grazing on the untrimmed yard. When the car made its way to the unmarked driveway, the horses made no move to run. The small herd had horses of various breeds and sizes with the largest towering over the car Ijichi was driving. In fact, it was the largest horse Satoru had ever seen. It was a deep, black color with white hair pooling around its hooves. Based on how it dwarfed the other horses, it was well over three meters tall. Based on the familiar crimson markings around its snout and eyes, Ryomen had likely given the horse considerable amounts of cursed energy to make it so large. Despite its imposing size, it did not appear to care about the presence of the newcomers whatsoever while the rest of the herd was watching them curiously. Satoru could not help but be reminded of Sukuna from the giant horse’s laziness. 

Whenever Satoru and the others were summoned for training, Infinite would appear before them and warp them to the shrine. He had no idea when or even how the damn bird knew where he, Suguru, Shoko, and Nanami lived. Infinite just did and would give whichever sorcerer he visited a heart attack. Wanting to delay Megumi’s meeting with Infinite as much as possible had led Satoru to request to go to the ranch Ryomen had spoken about. The pink-haired man had been ready to refuse before Sukuna convinced him otherwise, agreeing with Satoru that Megumi should not know what teleporting with Infinite felt like if he didn’t need to. Satoru was fine with warping himself and Megumi to the shrine. The ranch and shrine were over an hour apart, but Satoru could care less. He would deal with the migraine that came after warping a considerable distance easily. Ryomen had allowed Sukuna and Infinite to disable the many wards around the temple’s radius. It would be a temporary hold for Satoru to teleport to the shrine without issue, but the older man warned that the wards would reactivate soon and too not dawdle. 

“This is our stop.” Satoru said, unbuckling his seatbelt before stretching his lanky limbs. In the backseat, Megumi was still gaping at the horses in front of them. He gave Ijichi several hundred dollar bills as thanks, causing the younger to sputter and sweat. As an assistant director, Satoru knew that Ijichi was being overworked as much as the most talented sorcerers. There was so little staff that Ijichi had to do the work of at least ten people every day. He was treated with far less respect than sorcerers and expected to do much more work. Because of his younger age, the elders worked Ijichi harder than anyone else, like he was a dog. Yes, Ijichi did not put his life on the line to fight curses, but the higher-ups were giving their best shot at working assistants like Ijichi to death. It pissed off Satoru immensely. If it was not for Suguru, who was ninety-nine percent of his impulse control, he would have happily murdered those in charge of the assistant directors. Ijichi tried to give the money back, but Satoru remained firm. Eventually, he glared at the man. “Take the cash or else .”

It was an empty, vague threat, but it did its job. Ijichi yelped and bowed his head in thanks and accepted the money, blushing furiously. “Thank you, Gojo-san.”

“Don’t mention it. I know the geezers barely pay you a liveable wage. You need it.” Satoru allowed his cheerful front to drop for a moment. The assistant’s eyes were as wide as saucers from the sorcerer’s kind words. Not wanting to dwell on any thoughts involving the elders, Satoru gave his infamous shit-eating grin. “You better buy me something with that~”

Ijichi nodded frantically. As Satoru helped Megumi with his things, the tired assistant gave a small, grateful smile towards the older sorcerer before pulling out of the driveway and leaving. 

“Your friends are cursed users aren’t they?” Megumi said the second Ijichi’s car was out of sight. 

His abrupt words caused Satoru to choke on his own spit. “How did you- I mean- NO. They aren’t. Uh. They’re sorcerers. Good guys. Super duper nice. They’re harmless…” Satoru began to ramble as Megumi gazed at him with an unimpressed look. Dammit. The kid is too smart for his own good. He had planned to tell Megumi the truth in the safety of the shrine, but his cover was already blown. Ijichi had not been told the reasons as to why he had to drive to a random farm, so Satoru could not say anything in the car. It wasn’t that he distrusted Ijichi, he knew the man was loyal to Yaga and his friends far more than the higher-ups. Even so, the less people that knew about Sukuna and the cursed souls meant less chances of being caught. Ryomen would only allow so much information to be spread. Even Yaga was left in the dark as to where his previous students went. Deciding to bite the bullet, Gojo turned towards his son. He held out his hand, which Megumi begrudgingly took, and led him into the house. Two horses walked up to the pair, likely the youngest of the herd. It was a young filly and colt. The filly had a ginger coat, and she was clearly the more dominant of the two. On the other hand, the colt with strawberry blond fur tried to shove his snout into Megumi’s unoccupied hand. As if knowing the hand was injured, the young horse was incredibly gentle, sniffing at the boy’s fingers. The more prideful female did not get as close, but she was interested in whatever Megumi had in his backpack. 

Megumi had a small grin on his face as he went to pet the colt’s snout, much to the horse’s delight. “I don’t think a sorcerer would ever live this far out in the country. They’re needed in the city far too much. If a curse user wanted to stay hidden, they’d live in a place like this.” The boy’s deduction was correct. For a moment, Satoru basked in the pride of how intelligent his boy was. It made it impossible to hide things from Megumi, but Satoru could not help but be proud. 

“You hit the nail on the head, Megs.” Satoru watched carefully for any signs in Megumi’s posture that would indicate if the boy was fearful of meeting cursed users. When he found nothing, he huffed in amusement and ruffled Megumi’s hair. “You’re such a smart cookie!”

“Quit it!” Megumi snatched the hand in Satoru’s hold to swat at the much taller male. The ginger filly whinnied loudly at the two, almost like she was laughing. “See? Even the horses can see how annoying you are!”

“Oh, the pain! To be betrayed by my own flesh and blood! After all the hours I spent bringing you into the world!” He placed a hand on his forehead in fake agony. 

“We aren’t related! And you are not my mom!” Megumi growled with a fierce glare. However, it only made the boy look more like a hissing kitten in Satoru’s eyes.

“So mean!” 

They spent a few more moments with the horses until Satoru finally lead Megumi towards the inside of the house. The door hinges creaked loudly from lack of care. There was a scent of dust all around, but the house was relatively clean. The living room they were standing in was mostly barren, save for a ratty couch and worn chairs. Storage containers could be seen in every corner, organized in a system only Ryomen knew. Gojo knew better than to mess with any of the containers. 

Megumi had gone quiet again, observing the house. 

Eventually, he spoke up. “Your friends don’t live here, do they?”

“They don’t, but no one can disclose the location of their home. I made a binding vow along with the others to not reveal where their place is.” Gojo gestured towards the old home. “This is a middle ground of sorts. It’s safe if others know its location, that’s why Ijichi knew where to go.”

“But if we’re here, then how are we going to get to your friend’s house?” Megumi asked with a frown. The gears in his head were turning as he attempted to figure out the answer. Gojo could practically see the steam coming out of his nose. 

Satoru placed a hand on Megumi’s shoulder, kneeling to be at eye level with the boy. “I know you don’t like it, but we’ll be warping there. The place has countless wards and seals installed so no one can enter. It’s temporarily disabled, so we can travel there without issue. Warping is the only way.” At the idea of teleporting, Megumi shuddered. It was so disorientating, many had asked Satoru how he never experienced the effects of his teleportation. However, Satoru did feel the nauseating sensations that came with warping, he had just gotten used to it after years of practice. Besides teleporting, Satoru knew there was something more important to discuss with Megumi. “It won’t be too bad, Megs, I promise. But there is another thing-”

“Is it about the guard dogs you made up?”

“Damn, you're on a roll, kid.” Satoru muttered, mildly impressed. He pretended to not notice how Megumi’s little chest puffed up. With his knees beginning to hurt, Satoru decided to sit down, Megumi following suit. He pulled out his phone and opened a private album of photos that no one was allowed to see. There was even a passcode to the photo album. Satoru held out his arm in invitation, and Megumi climbed into his lap. Any embarrassment he would have felt was ignored for the boy’s need to learn more. Satoru pulled up a photo that he knew Megumi would enjoy. “You’re right, they aren’t guard dogs. Though, they still perform the same purpose of protecting my friend’s son. They’re called cursed souls. I’m sure you’ve heard of them, considering how much you like to sneak into Suguru’s study.”

“It’s his fault he didn’t invest in good locks.” Megumi defended. The preteen shifted his attention to the photo and immediately had to bite his lip to not burst out laughing. It was a picture of Nanami, but it depicted the man in a way Megumi had never seen before. To start, Nanami was not wearing his signature glasses and suit. He had on a loose, blue tank top and black joggers that were covered in sweat and mud. The normally stoic sorcerer had his eyes wide, looking behind him. He looked like he was shouting at someone with how his head turned and mouth opened. His well kempt hair was an utter mess. He was clearly being chased by something. It reminded Megumi of the many silly chase scenes he had seen in the cartoons he watched periodically with Mimiko. 

The ones responsible for chasing the blonde were three of the strangest creatures Megumi had ever seen. 

It was true that he had snuck into Getou’s study multiple times, but there was not as much information as Megumi hoped. It was mostly boring paperwork that Megumi did not care about. The treasures he did find were more interesting than any nature documentary. Getou had several drawings and notes describing beings called cursed souls. He had wanted to take the papers and read them in his room, but he knew that Getou was as observant as Gojo. He knew there were more details, they just were not in the study. Any items like textbooks or documents were likely hidden within Getou’s inventory curse. Megumi hated the ugly worm. Whenever he got his phone or remote to his television taken away, Getou would put it into the worm for safekeeping. Megumi knew he could not ask Getou about cursed souls without tattling on himself. From what little he managed to read on cursed souls, Megumi knew that they behaved differently from cursed spirits, they were powerful, they were unpredictable, and Getou hated the one that looked like a bird. 

He recognized the three cursed souls chasing Nanami from Getou’s sketches. Getou normally enjoyed drawing the many curses he encountered or consumed, so Megumi was not surprised that he would make sketches of these strange entities. One of them was a purple cat that had long, black spikes shooting from its back. It was the closest to catching Nanami, but the cat had a playful expression on its fluffy face. It had no intention of actually attacking Nanami. Behind the cat, there was a behemoth of a dog following with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Concealing the canine’s face was a skull that could not belong to any animal on earth. To start, The top of the skull was jagged and uneven, as if there used to be horns that had been broken off, and seemingly fused into the dog’s face. It was wide enough to cover the canine’s wide features. Additionally, there were two tusks that curled upwards from the upper jaw. When Megumi saw the bottom jaw, he lost all hope of trying to identify the skull. It was bisected with jagged teeth throughout. It allowed the real mouth of the canine to move freely. Besides the haunting skull and strang fur pattern, it looked like an ordinary dog. A massive one, but still a dog. From the slobber on Nanami’s face, it seemed that the canine had given the blonde many kisses. Megumi’s demon dogs did not produce slobber, so their licks were exponentially less messy. The boy could not help but snicker at the image of Nanami being tackled by an overexcited puppy the size of a bear. 

The third creature had no animalistic features whatsoever, a stark contrast to the first two. Megumi turned to Gojo, a question on his lips. Before he could speak, Gojo answered for him. 

“The last one looks like Nanami, huh?” 

“Yeah. Did it copy Nanami or something?”

“Sort of.” Gojo pointed a finger at the last cursed soul. It had several spotted wrappings reaching towards Nanami. The left side of it looked like it was on fire while the rest of its body resembled a mummy. Its lower half reminded Megumi of a serpent. All the wrappings were identical to the ones Nanami used on his blunt sword. The cursed soul even had an altered version of Nanami’s glasses. When he looked closer, Megumi realized that the creature was wearing a second pair of glasses on top of its head. Likely Nanami’s. Gojo’s voice broke the boy out of his musings. “I’ll tell you everything when we get there, okay? If we wait any longer, the wards are going to reactivate.”

Megumi nodded, hundreds of questions swimming in his mind. He felt Gojo pick him up and instinctually wrapped his arms around the elder’s neck. The boy prepared himself for the unpleasantness that came with warping. Gojo gave the boy a squeeze, a nonverbal warning that he was about to teleport. He closed his eyes.

He felt the world around them shift and change. It felt like going on an elevator that was going too fast yet too slow at the same time. The elevator moved up and down, right and left, everywhere and nowhere. 

Then they were somewhere. 

“We’re here! You can open your eyes, kid.” Gojo said reassuringly. When the dizziness and nausea faded, Megumi was placed onto the ground. 

This wasn’t a house. 

It was a temple. 

Megumi was about to demand where the hell Gojo had taken him, but was stopped by a pink blur tackling him to the ground. As the boy’s mind processed what had happened, he went to yell at the jerk who slammed into him. However, any anger Megumi had vanished as he locked eyes with his assailant, who was giving him the biggest smile Megumi had ever seen. 

The younger pink boy wrapped like a koala around Megumi pulled away for a moment. “Hi! I’m Yuuji! I’m so happy to meet you!!!”

Somehow, Megumi just knew his suspension would not be as bad as he thought. 

-

If he was being honest with himself, Sukuna did not expect Megumi and Yuuji to be nearly as close as they used to be in this world. 

He had never been more wrong. 

Having Yuuji and Megumi meet was one of the best decisions Sukuna had ever made. Even Ryomen had begrudgingly admitted how grateful he was for Yuuji’s new friend. With a friend that was actually a child and not an adult or ancient curses, Yuuji blossomed. The amount of nightmares that Yuuji had had diminished greatly due to Megumi’s calming presence. 

Sukuna had not anticipated the bond between the two to be as strong as it was. Instead of being the same age, Megumi was roughly six years older than Yuuji now. It made sense back then for the two teenagers to befriend each other. Two teens had similar issues to relate to and were capable of having a balanced dynamic. Through Yuuji, Sukuna had seen how much the boys cared for each other. It had been something that Sukuna could take advantage of, and he did . He expected Megumi and Yuuji to be acquaintances at best in this time. Megumi was someone who was aloof and preferred to be alone. He did not seem like the type to be fond of children. He wasn’t.

But he was fond of Yuuji. 

Instead of ignoring the younger boy, Megumi had more or less decided that Yuuji was his little brother from now on. He was patient with Yuuji, helping him with preparing for kindergarten. Without any sign of the grouchiness Megumi was known for, he would explain the subject of Yuuji’s lesson in a way the boy could understand. It had been quite difficult for Ryomen when he was teaching Yuuji about reading, writing, and colors. Yuuji became distracted easily, often retreating into his own mind or daydreaming. Ryomen had never had the opportunity to teach Yuuji in things like literacy during their life in the Heian Era. The man had to prioritize on not having Yuuji starve or freeze to death every day. He enjoyed teaching Yuuji in the beginning, but soon realized he was out of his league. Ryomen himself had never been allowed to study in his previous life, learning how to survive instead of how to read. It was Sukuna who had taught Ryomen the basics. However, Sukuna’s teaching style was much less gentle. His tactics involved threatening Ryomen about ‘chopping off your dumbass head if you don’t memorize these damn kanji’. Among other threats of bodily harm or cannibalism. Megumi was the complete opposite. He tutored Yuuji without a hint of difficulty, no threats of eating his student alive whatsoever! Sukuna was slightly envious.

As a result of Megumi’s lessons, Yuuji felt more confident than ever about entering kindergarten. 

“Sukuna, are you sure-”

“Yes, Ryomen.”

“But-”

“No.”

“What if I-”

“ NO .”

“You’re a dick”

“Uh-huh.”

For Ryomen’s sake, they had agreed on having Yuuji start kindergarten at age six. The extra year had helped Yuuji be at the level he needed to be for school. If it wasn’t for Megumi’s tutelage, Yuuji would be incredibly behind academically. The many hours Megumi spent with Yuuji made the younger one stick to the preteen like glue. Whenever Megumi visited, Yuuji would follow him around their home like a duckling. Megumi did not seem to mind Yuuji’s clinginess, happily including Yuuji in whatever he was doing. He would talk about what he did at school and his older sisters the most. When he would speak about going to restaurants or shopping trips with his family, the longing in Yuuji’s eyes could be seen as clear as day. The boy had never gotten to know the pleasures childhood had to offer. However, Yuuji did not become angry like Ryomen or Sukuna anticipated. The child had every right to be upset, scream, or through a fit. Even so, Yuuji did not. Yuuji simply became…sad. He would ask a few questions about the outside world to Ryomen or Sukuna and would go quiet after they answered. Yuuji would nod his head before sitting on the backyard porch, Supernova usually settling in his lap. 

Sukuna could not stand the ‘kicked-puppy’ look in Yuuji’s eyes any longer. After many arguments that involved flames and blood, Sukuna had forced Ryomen to agree to letting Yuuji visit Megumi’s house for a few hours. Gojo and Getou had enthusiastically agreed, promising that nothing would happen to the boy. The guardians were not pleased at all. Only Supernova could accompany Yuuji due to his ability to shrink. It was impossible to hide away something as large as Infinite. The guardians’ forms were not discreet whatsoever. At least, Supernova could hide away in Yuuji’s backpack or hoodie. 

They had needed the boy to leave the temple for a reason. Yuuji’s first day of school was tomorrow, so Sukuna thought that a celebration was in order. It had been Gojo that had suggested a surprise party. The limitless user had bought gaudy decorations and entire boxes of Cyclop Cat Creamery desserts for the party. After seeing the competition Yuuji had had with Sukuna, Gojo demanded another contest. Yuuji had been too exhausted after his eventful birthday to have the ice cream eating competition he wished for. His fifth birthday ended with Sukuna and Yuuji eating their bowls sleepily. At the thought of a proper contest, Yuuji had perked up. Gojo and Yuuji talked endlessly about the competition and what they would do. Their energy was overwhelming to say the least. 

“Shit. I melted one again.” Ryomen grumbled. 

“Then let me handle the rest. You need to calm the hell down.” Sukuna responded without looking up from the table he was setting up. 

Even though Yuuji would be gone for less than a day, it was still the first time that Yuuji would be leaving the shrine. The boy could not contain his excitement when he was told the news. It was an important milestone for Yuuji. He would be leaving the safety of the shrine. Despite knowing that nothing will happen to Yuuji with the two strongest sorcerers by his side, Ryomen had never felt more terrified in his life. Sukuna had wanted to yell at Ryomen to shut up, but the trembling in Ryomen’s body stopped him. 

Their shared soul told Sukuna everything Ryomen was not willing to say. 

It wasn’t that Ryomen was a controlling parent and freaking out about his child being out of his grasp. Not at all. Ryomen encouraged Yuuji to make his own decisions and be his own person. He did not want to hold his son back. However, leaving the shrine was different. Ryomen now knew that Kenjaku and the disaster curses were out there. Sure, Kenjaku’s plan would not occur in another few years, but nothing was stopping the curses from harming Yuuji. Kenjaku did not need a plan to hurt his son. The fact that Kenjaku could disguise themselves as anyone in the country without detection made things worse. 

Sukuna saw the haunted look in Ryomen’s eyes. He was grasping a pint of ice cream so tightly that the carton had popped. The pain of flames and grief within their soul gave insight into where Ryomen’s mind was. It was the day the Ryomen had been burned alive with his deceased son in his grasp. The son that a healer had tried to take away and toss into a mass grave. The day that Ryomen left his humanity in the ashes of the village that he had once grown up in. 

The curse himself had seen the event firsthand. Sukuna had seen the soul-crushing agony Ryomen had felt when he realized that his son was not coming back. That type of pain could not be forgotten. Sukuna could still remember the scent of burning flesh and the sound of guttural howls from a man shattered by the cruelty of the world. Ryomen had never been the same, no one would remain unchanged after such an event. However, Sukuna had seen Ryomen’s normal concern for Yuuji begin to revert to the terror the man had felt centuries ago. 

That man would burn the entire world if his son was harmed and not be satisfied even after everything was destroyed. 

That man could not return. 

“Ryomen, go back inside. Watch your shitty television shows with Boogie and cry out the shit in your head.” Sukuna did not phrase it as a suggestion, but as an order. 

The man jolted at the curse’s sharp words. “What about the-”

“I’ll handle it. Go.” Sukuna spoke tiredly. He pinched the bridge of his nose before rubbing his face with a groan. “Yuuji will be back in an hour. I doubt he wants his father on the verge of a meltdown at a celebration meant for him.”

No rebuttal came from Ryomen. He was hesitant to leave until Boogie gently tugged on Ryomen’s hand with his teeth. The dog whined pleadingly for the man to listen. Ryomen resisted for a few seconds before giving in. He glanced at Sukuna, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than they had been in years. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever .” 

“Wasn’t planning to.” The pink-haired man ruffled Boogie’s fluffy mane. Immediately, the dog’s large tail began wagging so quickly that it became a blur. Supernova and Boogie had always been the closest to Ryomen. The purple feline helped Ryomen immensely during Yuuji’s infancy and continued to give his father useful insight on Yuuji’s wellbeing. Whenever Ryomen was overwhelmed after a stressful day or was being haunted by the horrors of his past, Supernova would leave Yuuji’s side, as long as it was safe, to keep the man company. Normally, the breakdowns, anxiety attacks, and other episodes that Ryomen suffered from occurred in the dead of night. Sukuna had no idea how to help, but Supernova somehow did. He would place himself on Ryomen’s chest and begin to purr and knead his paws, allowing Ryomen to pet his silky fur as much as he wanted. Sukuna would always be nearby as silent support, but it was Supernova that did most of the work. Boogie was the one that made Ryomen let loose. The mastiff was the most energetic of the guardians and was one of the few things that can tire an energetic Yuuji out. Especially a Yuuji with a sugar rush . His jovial energy was contagious to Ryomen. When Boogie wasn’t making Ryomen chase him or wrestle, the dog was Ryomen’s movie partner in the shitty dramas he watched. Sukuna had caught the two sleeping on the couch after a binge countless times, a puffy eyed Ryomen using a snoring Boogie as a blanket and pillow. 

It seemed that the guardians helped more than just Yuuji. 

Sukuna knew he would never be the subject of their concern, and he had accepted that. The cursed souls would not attack Sukuna like they did when they had first met, Yuuji would burst into tears if he saw the way Sukuna and the guardians hurt each other. Over the years, the guardians were mostly indifferent towards Sukuna and kept their distance. Infinite would still find new ways to make Sukuna’s days worse, but the bird did not give Sukuna hallucinations anymore. He would take Infinite’s pettiness over his psychic torment any day. 

At least, they were useful today. Without Yuuji, the guardians were lost on what to do. They were restless. Even though they had the perfect opportunity to attack Sukuna, they decided to aid him with the party. It was only for Yuuji’s sake. Infinite made it his personal mission to remind Sukuna of their dislike. The draconic bird would peck Sukuna with his sharp beak and then pretend that he had done nothing. Currently, Infinite had his beak shoved into the pint of ice cream Ryomen had dropped. His lengthy body was tangled in part streamers, but the entity did not care enough to remove them. Overtime slapped Infinite, causing him to squawk in offense, before taking the pint. The mummy used his wrappings to clean up the mess Infinite had made of himself. With Overtime occupied with Infinite, the two remaining guardians had to take on his workload. Resonance had placed herself in charge of decorations and would raise a razor-sharp nail threateningly at anyone who tried to interfere. The roses she conjured were quite beautiful, so Sukuna didn’t mind. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Sukuna growled. 

Chimera had been assisting with the chairs and supplies needed for the competition. However, the inky entity had apparently finished due to the fact that the being was now trying to sick his wretched frogs on Sukuna. Chimera clicked harshly in response, green eyelights narrowing. When his eyelights went to shift into another shikigami, Sukuna growled again. While Infinite was obvious with his hatred, Chimera’s ire with Sukuna was much more subtle. He would summon his frog shikigami the second Sukuna’s back was turned and release the frog the second someone was watching. Chimera’s gama frogs were a pain to deal with. They were not as dangerous as Nue or his demon dogs, but they were annoying. If Chimera was lucky, he would have a frog shoot its tongue directly into Sukuna’s ear. He had been successful a handful of times, and Sukuna remembered each one very well. 

A distorted warble came from Chimera as he stared down Sukuna. Eventually, Chimera’s hatred was put aside, knowing that Yuuji would be upset if his uncle was hurt. Despite not having any facial features besides his eyelights, Chimera appeared to be scowling fiercely. He shrunk into his smaller form, a sea-urchin blob of malcontent, and went underneath a table. 

This was going to be the longest hour in Sukuna’s life. 

.

.

.

-

.

.

.

The crisp air provided by the spring breeze in combination with the warm sun made it the perfect time to eat something cold. Many people were likely partaking in eating their favorite frozen desserts on such a nice day. 

One such family was indulging in the need for an ice-cold treat. However, what should have been a relaxing time spent with others had turned into an all out war. 

“QUIT CHEATING, SUGURU!” A man with white hair and dark sunglasses barked. It was Gojo Satoru, the person known for his sweet tooth, and he was being beaten by his partner. 

Suguru Getou, a sorcerer with a technique that forced him to eat the most vile objects in existence, chuckled. He had just finished his third bowl while Satoru was still on his first. In a sickly sweet voice, Suguru crooned to his boyfriend. “I’m not cheating, darling. You’re just being a sore loser. Even Yuuji is miles ahead of you.”

The boy mentioned perked up from his name being called. His cheeks were full of ice cream, making the child resemble a hamster. Five bowls were stacked next to him and he was already halfway through his sixth. His honey eyes sparkled with glee as he nodded to Suguru, mouth still full. When the boy swallowed, the other adults at the table watched for signs of discomfort, but Yuuji did not even flinch. 

“WHAT?! YUUJI-KUN! ARE YOU JUST IMMUNE TO BRAIN FREEZE?!!” Gojo exclaimed with wide eyes. 

Instead of seeing who could eat the most ice cream at once, the competition centered around who will get the infamous ‘brain freeze’ that comes with consuming something cold. If the competition had been based on the former, then Gojo would win without question. However, the sorcerer had to take miniscule bites to prevent his head from aching. Gojo Satoru was notorious for many things. Being the strongest sorcerer in the modern era, being the first person in five hundred years to inherit the Six Eyes and Limitless, being the fastest person on the planet, being a skilled mathematician and physicist, among many other things. One of said things was the fact that Gojo Satoru had NO tolerance for frozen sweets. His mind was always running one hundred miles per hour, so his brain was vulnerable to experiencing a brain freeze. It was ridiculously easy to make Gojo have a brain freeze. Due to this, Gojo was trying to eat as slowly as possible to prevent it…But-

“AGH FUCK!”

“Language!”

It didn’t work. 

“Gojo! You’re out!” An older boy with black, spiky hair and a megaphone announced from his seat on a lounge chair. Beside him were the first contestants that had lost, Nanami and Shoko. Though, neither person wanted to participate in the contest, so they forfeited after one round. Now, the pair were relaxing on identical lounge chairs the boy was sitting on, a bowl of their preferred flavor in their hands. Each had sunglasses and a matching smirk. 

The man in his twenties pouted, but left the ‘podium’. “Fine, but I’m gonna be the announcer! You suck at it, Megs!”

“I do not!” Megumi shouted, holding the megaphone to his chest. 

“Yeah! Fushi is the best announcer!” Yuuji defended his friend without hesitation. He pointed his messy spoon at Gojo with a frown. “Don’t be a meanie!”

“See! Yuuji said I’m better, so go away!” Megumi made a shooing motion with his hands.

Gojo shook his head with a frown before disappearing. He reappeared behind Megumi’s chair with a microphone in hand, causing the preteen to seemingly jump out of his skin. Wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulder, Gojo smiled devilishly. “We’ll be a tag team then! I’ll do the cool stuff and you do the boring stuff.”

Knowing that Gojo would not take no as an answer, Megumi just rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, Megs!” Gojo cooed before kissing his son’s cheek with an obnoxious ‘MWAH!’ 

Megumi looked like he had been stabbed. When he touched his cheek, his pale skin adopted a twinge of green. “You got ice cream on me, you jerk!”

Instead of responding, Gojo just stuck out his tongue cheekily. As Gojo approached the podium that was really two tables stuck together with a cloth on top, he raised the microphone to his lips. When he spoke, he sounded identical to a sports announcer. “Welcome folks to the most intense competition you will ever see! We pitted several champions against each other to determine who has the Toughest Brain in Japan!” He turned to his son with a flourish. “My fellow commentator, Megumi, will inform us on the rules of the game!”

For a moment, Megumi stayed silent while glowering at Gojo. Eventually, he caved in with a sigh and began to speak in a monotone voice. “You have to eat ice cream until the timer runs out or we run out of pints. Whoever gets a brain freeze is out. The person who lasts the longest without getting one is the winner with the thickest head, I guess.” 

“Indeed! Let’s look at our leaderboard. Tied for dead last are Nanami and Shoko! Who quit after one round to laze around like old people!” Gojo pointed at the aforementioned forfeiters. Neither reacted to their friend’s overdramatics. However, Shoko flipped the taller one off without looking away from her bowl. After Gojo finished teasing the two, he approached the table. He leaned down to the man sitting next to Yuuji. “It seems that Ryomen is the closest to being out! How are you doing, champ?”

The only answer Gojo got from Ryomen was a groan. His head was pressed against the surface on the table. Beside his head was a bowl of melted ice cream. “Trying to drink it was a mistake.” Ryomen’s muffled voice slurred. His hands were wrapped around his stomach in pain. Groggily, he lifted his head to try eating more, but gave up. “Yeah, I’m done.”

Yuuji patted sticky hands around his father’s broad back. “Papa, you gotta keep going! You can do it!” 

“Honey, if Papa keeps going, Papa is going to hurl.” Ryomen said, face still planted on top of the table. However, his words did not placate his son. It had the opposite effect. With determination in his golden eyes, Yuuji shook Ryomen harder. The boy’s inhuman strength accidentally made the entire table shake. 

“You can do it, Papa! I believe in you! You’re super duper strong! Your fire powers can just go FWOO and then HYOI! BRAIN FREEZE HAS NOTHING ON THAT, PAPA!” Yuuji said encouragingly. And loudly. Very loudly. “DO FWOO HOI, DAD! FWOO, HYOI!”

From her seat, Shoko cackled. “Kid’s gotta a point! Fwoo, hyoi is the way to go!”  

Gojo and Getou sent her a withering glare. 

Shoko grinned.

Ryomen groaned. “Yuuji, honey, not so loud. Inside voice-”

“But we’re outside?” The pink-haired boy cocked his head, confused. 

“Then use your Don’t-Make-Papa’s-Ears-Bleed voice.” Ryomen pleaded. He willfully ignored the mocking laughter from the four armed curse next to him. 

Finally noticing how terrible his father looked, Yuuji quietened. “Okay, Papa.”

“Thank you, son.” 

“Does your tummy hurt?”

“Yes, Yuu.”

“Oh! Do you need the orange tea that you give me when my tummy hurts?”

“Not right now, hun.”

“What about hot cocoa? It makes me feel better because it’s so yummy!”

At the thought of consuming another sweet, Ryomen sprang out of his seat with a hand on his mouth. He breathed deeply for a few moments until his stomach settled. Looking like he had completed a marathon, Ryomen panted. “Papa is gonna join the loser’s spot. Beat your uncle for me, alright?” 

Fortunately, his request halted any further questions Yuuji had. Without Ryomen in between them, Yuuji and his uncle could see each other. They locked eyes.

The curse with four arms and similar pink hair bared his sharp teeth in a challenging grin. He had eaten the most out of the group with a tower of bowls wobbling precariously. “So you think you can beat me, brat?”

“Yeah! I’m going to beat you and make you give me piggyback rides every day!” Yuuji replied with the same glint in his eyes that his uncle had. Both were competitive to a fault. “I’m gonna win, Uncle Kuna!”

“That a challenge, brat?” Sukuna leaned towards the boy, his predatory smile growing wider. 

“Yeah!” 

“Good luck, brat. You’re really going to need it.” Sukuna ruffled Yuuji’s hair, his hand large enough to palm Yuuji’s head. 

“Hey! I’m gonna beat you even more ‘cause you did that!”

“You mean lose?”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!”

“Nuh-uh!”

As the uncle and nephew playfully bickered, Gojo slunk to the opposite end of the table. His grip around his microphone tightened as he bore his piercing gaze into a smug curse manipulator. “With Ryomen out of the competition, it seems that we are down to our final three. I wonder who our next loser is.” 

Getou smiled like a snake that had just caught its prey. He batted his eyes innocently at Gojo. “May I ask why you’re staring at me in particular, announcer?” 

“Because dry ice is next!” Megumi answered before the taller sorcerer could. His bored expression turned malicious. It was a look Getou and Gojo knew well. It was the look their children had before turning into goblins of mischief and mayhem. All the confidence Getou had been feeling vanished as Megumi grinned like the evil miscreant he truly was. “We’re entering the Sudden Death Round!” 

The moment the words left Megumi’s mouth, a screech sounded from the leaves of the largest tree in the backyard. Twigs and leaves fell as the creature inside climbed down. Snow white fur, colorful feathers, and a hooked beak twisted in amusement. It was Infinite, the being who loved tricks more than anyone. Infinite’s talons dug into the bark of the tree as he descended vertically. When he reached the soft ground, the draconic bird trotted to Megumi with a pleased trill. The group of cursed souls that Infinite belonged to did not react to his antics. Similar to Shoko and Nanami, the other cursed souls were sound asleep across the land. Two of them, a demonic canine and feline, had smaller bowls of their own that had been licked clean. The larger of the two, Boogie, was laying belly-up with a full stomach and snores. Supernova, the feline, had hopped onto Ryomen’s lap before promptly falling asleep in the perfect imitation of a loaf of bread. Due to not having mouths, Resonance and Chimera watched underneath the shade of a tree. It was up to Infinite to stir up things!

With his beak, Infinite reached into the cooler that Megumi had hidden and procused three bowls of ice cream. Each bowl appeared to be steaming like a boiling pot. However, the vapor was caused by the chunks of dry ice inside the innocuous container. There was only a small scoop in the bowls, small enough that it could be eaten in one bite. Which was exactly what Megumi had intended. Seeing the surprise on his parents’ faces, Megumi revealed his plan. “I knew that Gojo would want to take over the announcer role. That’s why I accepted the role and did it as lifelessly as possible. It would ensure a 100% success rate of Gojo taking my role.” 

“We really shouldn’t get on his bad side.” Getou softly uttered to Gojo, who nodded solemnly. However, Megumi had heard him.

“Too late.” Megumi deadpanned. 

From his seat at the table, Yuuji raised his hand instinctively, the motion ingrained into him after the many lessons he had had with the preteen. “Fushiguro?”

“Yes, Yuuji?” The older boy replied without a hint of the vengefulness he had shown his parents. 

Yuuji spoke in a small voice, curling in on himself. “Am I on your bad side?”

The sharp features of the ravenette softened. Megumi shook his head. “No, you’re not. You can be dumb sometimes, but you’re not stupid.”

While the adults were confused and slightly insulted by his response, Yuuji nodded sagely with complete understanding. “Got it. They’re idiots, but not morons.”

“Exactly.” Megumi nodded in approval. His voice immediately hardened as he looked at the others. “Now. Here’s how Sudden Death works. You have to eat the scoop in one bite and hold it there for at least five seconds. Try to eat it if you can, though I wouldn’t recommend it. You’ll probably break your teeth. Anyways. The one who can hold the scoop for the longest wins. Infinite?”

The cursed soul chirped in agreement. Within his durable beak and talons, the ice cold desserts did not injure him. He would place a bowl, fan it with his tail, screech, and repeat. When Infinite reached Yuuji, he cooed instead of shrieking, preening the boy’s mussed hair. The remaining contestants each had differing expressions. Suguru looked at his bowl with apprehension. Sukuna looked at his bowl with mild intrigue. Yuuji looked at his bowl like it was a hero to be admired. The contestants that had lost looked on in anticipation with Gojo cackling at the sweat beading down Suguru’s neck.  

Infinite retreated to Megumi’s side and chirped three times. The boy patted the cursed soul on the beak, which Infinite leaned into. Once everyone was settled, Megumi raised his megaphone for the last time. “You will begin eating in…Three…Two…”

Megumi stopped.

The remaining three were as taught as the string on a bow. Copying the technique that Gojo often did to annoy others, Megumi let them stew in the heavy silence. He would have made them wait longer, but Yuuji was actually vibrating with how hard he was trying to stay still. Placing the megaphone down, Megumi cupped his hands over his mouth to yell the loudest anyone had ever heard him. “ONE!” 

Instantly, Getou, Sukuna and Yuuji snatched their spoons. They all had a moment of hesitation as they stared at the plain vanilla ball. Deciding to risk it, Getou took the first bite with Sukuna following suit. Yuuji enthusiastically popped the ball in his mouth like a squirrel snatching a nut. 

“OWOWOW! NO! THAT HURTS! THAT REALLY HURTS!” Getou spat out the chilled scoop after half a second. His mouth felt numb all over. He thought his gums and upper palate were frostbitten. Somehow, it was so cold that it burned. He could hear triumphant cheers of Satoru and the quiet snickers of his other friends. 

Sukuna tried to appear nonchalant with the ice scalding his mouth. He had handled much worse. A little cold could not beat him. He made it to four seconds. The cold became too much, and he spat it out with a painful cough. The curse began using his reverse cursed technique to return blood flow to his numb and tingling mouth. Sukuna had been so distracted by the relief he felt to after being rid of the deadly dessert that he barely heard Ryomen’s worried shouts.

“WAY TO GO YUUJI! NOW, SPIT IT OUT!” Ryomen did not know if he should feel proud or terrified for his son not succumbing to the impossibly cold ice cream. So cold that Yuuji could develop irreversible frostbite. Okay, he was definitely terrified. “YUUJI! SPIT IT OUT! YOU WON!”

Taking Ryomen’s pleas as another challenge, Yuuji shook his head. The little boy went to bite down on the ice cream. He wanted to brag about eating the ball to his uncle, so he did not think twice about the consequences. As his jaw clenched, there was a loud CRACK . 

The air went deathly still.

Yuuji finally spat out the ball of ice cream. However, there was a tinge of red to the vanilla. He turned the ball around in his hands and saw his front tooth lodged into it. The boy yanked his tooth out of the scoop, waving it around excitedly to his father. “PAPA! I LOST A TOOTH! CAN WE PUT IT UNDER MY PILLOW?!”

Ryomen gave a shaky thumbs up.

Then he fainted. 

-

“Pencils?”

“Check!”

“Paper?”

“Check!”

“Crayons?”

“Check!”

“Folder?”

“Check!” 

“Snacks?”

“Check!”

“Water?”

“Check!”

“Lunch?”

“Check!” 

“Supernova?”

“Check!” Yuuji giggled, holding his beloved cat in the air. His Papa was so silly! He carefully placed a shrunken Supernova into his backpack. He gave his father a salute that he had seen in one of the movies Gojo had shown him. “Onii-cat is secured!”

“Then it seems that my little cub is ready for class.” His father sounded happy but sad at the same time. He carded his hand in Yuuji’s hair with a happy-sad face. Saddy? Ha-ad? 

Everyone else had given Yuuji hugs and well-wishes yesterday, but not Ryomen. At first, Yuuji thought his Papa was mad at him, but Uncle Kuna told him to not worry. Uncle Kuna said that his Dad was just sad, comparing his feelings to his guardians because they couldn’t come to class with Yuuji. 

He loves you, brat. So do your guardians. Don’t you think they’d be bummed if their favorite person was somewhere they couldn’t follow?

His Uncle Kuna was really smart. Fushiguro was smart too, but his uncle just knew things that Yuuji could never understand. 

All of the other kids had said their goodbyes except for Yuuji and Ryomen. Yuuji really wanted to go to his class, but his Papa still looked sad-happy! An idea popped into his head, and Yuuji wanted to pump his fist in the air. He stood up on his tiptoes and pressed his forehead against his Papa’s. It was a good thing that his Papa was kneeling. He was too tall!

“I’ll be okay, Papa. I pinky promise!” Yuuji stuck out his pinky. 

His Dad blinked several times before the sad-happy just became happy. He linked his larger pinky with Yuuji, a smile on his face. It made Yuuji feel all warm and bubbly inside! He liked it when his Papa smiled.

“Alright, Yuu. It’s a promise.”

“A pinky promise!”

“Yes.” Ryomen kissed the top of Yuuji’s head. “It’s a pinky promise.”

When his father left, Yuuji turned to finally enter his class. It was so colorful! His classmates were running around with toys or drawing on construction paper. He was so excited! Mister Getou had been teaching him how to draw, and Yuuji knew he needed to draw something for each member of his family. 

“Hello, little one. I take it you’re my last student?” A sweet voice spoke from behind Yuuji. He turned around and saw his kindergarten teacher. She had dark hair tied back with a pretty yellow headband-scarf thing. It had flowers all over and it matched with her yellow shirt and blue skirt. She had her hand out, waiting for Yuuji to take it. Remembering what Nanami had taught him, Yuuji took her hand and shook it as hard as he could. Doing it harder meant more respect, right?

His teacher laughed. “It’s nice to meet you too, Itadori Yuuji. I’m Miss Kenko and I’ll be your teacher from now on.”

“I can’t wait!” Yuuji squealed. He already wanted to run around, his legs were screaming for it! 

“Neither can I.” Miss Kenko said. She smiled at him, and it made Yuuji feel warm again. And cold. The nice lady pointed towards the cubbies. “You can place your backpack over there, little one. There won’t be any need for notes. Today is all about introductions!”

“Okay!” Yuuji couldn’t help but squeal. His first day was going to be cool! Not boring! He ran to place his backpack on a hook and took off his shoes, placing it in the nearest empty cubby. He put on his school shoes and grabbed his crayons. He heard Supernova meow worriedly, so he kept the zipper open. “Miss Kenko said we aren’t doing anything today! You can explore if you want! I love you, Nova! Bye!”

He saw an empty desk and headed towards it. There were four pages from a coloring book, just waiting to be filled! The first page was a volcano with spots, the second page was a forest with lots of roots, the third page was a beach with a big squid, and the fourth page was of a funky-looking cube. Yuuji began coloring in the first page when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“If you need extra coloring pages, let me know.” Miss Kenko smiled at him again. 

“I will! I’ll show you when I’m done!”

“That sounds great, Yuuji! I’m looking forward to seeing your skills.” With that, Miss Kenko left as fast as she came. It made sense. There were a lot of other students she had to keep an eye on. 

He got so absorbed in his drawing that he completely forgot about the question weighing heavily on his mind. 

The surname his father had given him was Ryomen. Ryomen Yuuji.

So…

Who was Itadori? 

[pix4japan]

A Serene Encounter: Cherry Blossoms and Mt. Fuji at Ideboku Dairy Farm

Location: Fujinomiya, Shizuoka, Japan Timestamp: 13:28・2024/02/28

Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter ISO 160 for 1/750 sec. at ƒ/2.0 Astia/Soft film simulation

Nestled within the tranquil surroundings of Ideboku Dairy Farm and Cafe, early blooming Kawazu-Zakura cherry blossoms graced the parking lot. As I stepped out of my car, the delicate petals fluttered in the breeze like a delicate dance in the cold early spring air. From the right angle, one can capture their ethereal beauty juxtaposed against the majestic silhouette of Mt. Fuji in the distance.

In this shot, I feel the Kawazu-Zakura blossoms carry the message of spring's imminent arrival, with hues of pink and white delicately painting the scene against the azure sky. However, the gentle breeze caused the branches to sway, making it challenging to capture a focused shot at first. Despite the initial difficulty, I persisted in my attempt to encapsulate the essence of these two symbols of Japanese culture: the cherry blossoms and Mt. Fuji.

Google Maps links and sources available at my latest blog post – a quick 1-minute read (https://www.pix4japan.com/blog/20240228-sakura).

[adapembroke]

Pluto in Scorpio and Sedna in Taurus: The Scouring of the Shire

One of the major differences between Peter Jackson's film version of The Lord of the Rings and the book is the question of what happens to the hobbits after Sauron is defeated. 

In the movies, the Shire is pure and innocent, never touched by the larger battle for Middle Earth. The hobbits return to the Shire, and everything is as it was before. Part of the tragedy of Frodo's story is that he isn't able to participate in the idyllic life of the Shire anymore. He stands on the outside of hobbit society, watching all of his friends having fun and not being able to enjoy it.

In the book, the forces of Saruman invade the Shire, enslave the hobbits, and convert the farms into factories. This is called the scouring of the Shire, and there is a last battle required to overthrow Saruman for good. No one gets through the conflict unscathed. It is a loss of innocence. The hobbits will never again have the luxury of hiding behind their smallness and obscurity when evil arises. They know that the Shire can be reached. They cannot rely on others to fight the battles for Middle Earth for them.

The Lord of the Rings movies came out when I was a teenager, and I've come to see the differences between the stories of the films and the books as a metaphor for what it's like to grow up with Pluto in Scorpio and Sedna in Taurus.

Taurus is the sign of hobbitish things.

It is the sign of farming, pleasure gardens, the wholesome pleasures of food, ale, and "pipe weed." 

If it was possible for a person to have every planet in Taurus, they would be a lot like a hobbit. They would find Taurus delightful. Its biggest downside would be that things don't change very much. And why would you want things to change when things are so wonderful as they are? 

The Taurus person would be puzzled by "outsiders" who aren’t content to appreciate the simple things in life, like curious hobbits who are tempted to wander from the safe walled garden of the Shire, and wizards who don't find much use for their power in the Shire aside from a nice display of fireworks. 

Of course, it is impossible for a person to have every planet in Taurus, so even the most hobbitish person always has a planet or two pushing them to expand their horizons and pursue complexity. Even if they adamantly deny it.

This is good. It makes us more complicated people. Unfortunately, it also means that we don't have the luxury of experiencing the pure, idyllic world of Taurus. We have needs that can't be met within the walled garden of the Shire. We are pulled on adventures that expose us to the wider world. Like the Buddha discovered, the wider world contains suffering and pain.

Adventures can be especially painful for our inner hobbit selves if they involve experiences ruled by Leo, Scorpio, or Aquarius. Having Pluto in Scorpio in your natal chart makes Taurus experiences especially difficult. 

Taurus is challenging with Pluto in Scorpio.

Depending on what else you have in your chart, Pluto in Scorpio people can have an almost supernatural ability to sniff out evil in everything and the inability to look away once they see it. 

Going out for ice cream? Pluto in Scorpio person can't stop thinking about the calves that were separated from their mothers to support the dairy industry. 

Going out for drinks? Pluto in Scorpio can't stop thinking about that time they were smacked across the face by an alcoholic.

Just being a member of the Pluto in Scorpio generation doesn’t mean that you’re condemned to enjoy nothing. Some have easier charts. Some have an easier time pushing plutonian thoughts aside. Some have the ability to do the healing work necessary to allow them to choose to find pleasure in innocent things. That healing comes with the meta bonus of being able to consciously enjoy the pleasure of being able to enjoy things.

Still, the difficulty relaxing and enjoying the simple things can feel like being condemned to be Frodo at the end of the movies. Whether or not it’s actually true, it can seem like you’re a perpetual outsider, watching everyone around you enjoy things that you’re incapable of enjoying. 

Pluto in Scorpio + Sedna in Taurus

I think that the complexity of being a Pluto in Scorpio outsider is part of the Pluto in Scorpio archetype, just because of how it experiences Taurus, but that’s currently impossible to confirm because of a complication with Sedna.

The currently living Pluto in Scorpio generation is the first generation humanity has encountered with Pluto in Scorpio since the discovery of Pluto, and the currently living Pluto in Scorpio generation is (almost definitely) the only Pluto in Scorpio generation any who reads this will ever know.  

And everyone born with Pluto in Scorpio in the 1980s and 90s has Sedna in Taurus.

The dwarf planet Senda is named for the Inuit goddess who rules the underworld and lives on the bottom of the sea. She is the rejected child whose wounds never heal and whose severed fingers give life to the community in the form of the sea mammals they hunt for food. 

The myth and the astronomy of Sedna both seem to indicate that the Exile is one of the planet’s core archetypes, which means that it is difficult to tell how much of the exile-feeling of the Pluto in Scorpio generation comes from Pluto and how much comes from Sedna.

Sedna in Taurus: Generations in Exile

As a member of the Pluto in Scorpio generation, I’ve focused my attention on the experience of my generation, but Sedna’s passage through Taurus has interesting ramifications for all of the Pluto generations that were alive when Sedna was in Taurus (1965-2024). 

I say that it has implications for all generations that were alive, and not just the ones that have been born since 1965, purposefully. The people who were born after 1965 will carry Sedna in Taurus with them forever, but people who were born with Sedna in Aries had to live through the Sedna in Taurus, too. When a person experiences a transiting planet in a sign, it is like they are an honorary person with that planet in that chart while the transit is happening. A transit that lasts as long as Sedna in Taurus makes a serious mark on a person, too.  

What do we do with this? Nearly 60 years of a whole world wandering in exile? 

Someone asked me that, and I was reminded of a quote by Ram Dass. He said, “We’re all just walking each other home.”

In many of the stories of Sedna, the story ends by talking about her relationship with the community. She gives the sea mammals that give life, but she can also take them away when she feels humans are being too cruel. When that happens, the hunts fail, and an Inuk shaman journeys to the bottom of the sea to comb out Sedna’s hair, to do for her the things she can’t do herself because she doesn’t have fingers, to comfort her, to promise that the shaman will help humanity do better. 

Maybe, that’s the best thing we can do with astrological Sedna, too. Take turns diving to the depths for each other, to be each other’s hands, and promise to try to do better.

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[lboogie1906]

The Slocum Massacre occurred on July 29, 1910, in Slocum, Texas. The city was home to a thriving African American community with several businesses and farms owned by African American residents.

The lynching of an African American man in Cherokee County sparked racial tensions in the area. A confrontation erupted, enraging Jim Spurger, a local white farmer, who became the primary agitator of the conflict that led to the massacre. Many newspapers and eyewitness accounts reported that Spurger instigated the events by claiming that African Americans had threatened him.

Driven by Spurger and other white vigilantes, an angry mob of heavily armed white men from all over Anderson County roamed throughout Slocum in groups. They fired guns on African American residents at will. African Americans fled as word spread from survivors of the carnage. Every newspaper portrayed African Americans as “armed instigators,” which was a gross mischaracterization.

Newspapers reported that the estimated death toll was 8 to 22 victims. African Americans stated that there was a minimum of 40 to upwards of 200 victims. Anderson County Sheriff stated, that it was challenging to obtain the death toll because African American bodies were scattered all over the woods. Many residents fled the town during and after the massacre, leaving behind real estate property and other assets. White residents seized their property. Jack Hollie, a formerly enslaved man, lost his dairy, granary, general store, and 700 acres of land to white residents after he and his family fled the city.

Almost all of Slocum’s residents were subpoenaed to testify, and white men who refused were arrested. Spurger and at least fifteen other white men were arrested for the attacks. Spurger and six of the men were indicted on 22 counts of murder. They were never tried. The indictments received little attention when Judge moved the trial to Harris County, where the charges were dropped. None of the attackers were ever prosecuted.

Today, the city of Slocum reflects the relic of its history. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence