#Camel Milk Drink

[camelicious]

Buy Long Life Ready to Drink Camel Milk - Chocolate online from Camelicious Store. Premium Quality & 100% Natural. Order now!

[ulteri0rm0tives]

johnny is definitely those marlboro menthol black smokers (or worse camel crushes (like the bisexual icon he is)) that smokes them and thinks he's sooo cool for it, like pretentious black coffee drinkers who drink it for the sake of being able to flaunt the fact around because, again, they think they're sooo cool for it

he would definitely make fun of (my) v for smoking lights, even though he's a bum who should b happy v smokes anything at all, or that v even takes it into consideration when johnny asks while they're still sharing the same body, johnny trying to bully v into switching brands but it's actually one of the things v puts his foot down on, that he doesnt let the engram change about him, bc he still has the same taste buds and menthols still have the same shitty fucking taste.

post game too (when they're both back in their respective bodies bc i said so) his bummy ass would stay mooching off of v despite, even sharing cigs with v (not because johnny asks, of course, but because he literally snatches that shit out of v's hands), would (again, never asking) demand to bum one in the same breath he's making a snide comment about it, and v would just find it amusing at that point, entertain it even, bc it's like.. johnny, you cannot still be taking yrself this seriously right now

[dilfsisko]

'No use crying over spilled milk." What if i really wanted to drink the milk. what if i was looking forward to the milk. what then

[bonefall]

I have a question about cows! Do you know if Holsteins produce milk with higher amounts of lactose? Because I know tons of people that eat dairy back in the home country but develop some strange lactose intolerance in the States, and I've been trying to figure out why. Thank you!

For a REALLY solid answer I'd need to know what your home country is so I could compare it to the US! There's a LOT of variation between the cattle and dairy production of different regions, from the sorts of breeds used down to the very way that milk sold on the shelf is preserved and classified.

As examples, Italy uses different preservation methods that assume the consumer is buying less milk at a time so it can be fresher, Kenya's market is mostly small producers using traditional open-pasture methods (though this is changing and please for the love of god do not move towards holsteins it's a fucking trap), India's milk mostly comes from native cow and buffalo breeds, etc.

But I can say for certain;

Holsteins typically produce slightly less lactose than other breeds because their milk is practically boob water. There are also studies that show that crossing cattle with holsteins makes their milk less nutritious.

Milk taste and nutrition is influenced by a TON of factors, including diet, exercise, mental health, and even time between milkings.

American food safety standards are terrible, and are about to get even worse because of the current administration.

Anecdotally, I've heard a LOT of stories about American milk making visitors and returning travelers sick. I can also confirm that milk in the UK just plain tastes better.

In fact as a personal story, here in the states I only ever buy Lactaid brand milk, which has lactASE added to break down the lactOSE. Regular milk here gives me problems when I drink more than a glass of it.

(store brand lactose-free milk works too, and is cheaper, but this is one of those situations where the off-brand stuff doesn't taste as yummy imo.)

While I was with my partner overseas, I was drinking regular whole milk from the regular convenience store with ZERO problems. Straight chugging it daily AND adding it to every cup of tea I had. I'm already a milk fiend here but I was a milk SUPERVILLAIN over there.

So I recommend trying lactose-free, to see if it works. I'm not even lactose intolerant, but it helped me.

There's also a budding discussion about a protein structure found in the milk of certain northern dairy breeds, including the holstein, called A1 beta-casein. This protein is extremely common in American milk, and there is evidence that some people have a negative reaction to it.

but PLEASE BE VERY CAREFUL WHEN YOU RESEARCH THIS TOPIC.

It's one of those nutritional subjects that's still being heavily researched, but snake oil salesmen and brain worm warriors are trying to turn A1 milk into the newest Hash Slinging Slasher. Y'know. The autism-causing, diabetes-making, heart-attack inducing boogeyman which is the reason why we should all be afraid UNLESS you buy my product.

SO, be very skeptical of the "health benefit" claims, and keep an eye on study bias with the knowledge that a lot of research was funded by organizations trying to sell milk without A1.

THAT SAID, a type of milk that's A1/A2 (has some A1 beta-casein) or A2/A2 (contains absolutely no A1 beta-casein) might help. MOST traditional breeds produce A2/A2 milk-- unless, of course, they were outbred to certain European cattle breeds. Non-cattle animals, like goats and camels, also produce A2/A2.

TL;DR

Try lactose-free milk or A2/A2 milk, those might fix the issue.

(Also this is NOT a raw milk friendly space. If anyone attempts to respond to this post with the endorsement of raw milk, I will unzip you throat to tail in front of all four Clans of the forest. Brainworm Bobbies DNI)

[deezbignutz]

More Redacted hc bc why tf not, yknow :))))) (this is also to make up for not doing Brachium and Christian but u don't need to know that-)

One time during their early stages of dating, Angel found out about henna from Baaabe and wanted to surprise David with it some cool squiggles and flowers knowing damn well he would have a strong reaction to it. He did in fact have a strong reaction to it, and so did Angel when they realised they were highly allergic to one of the ingredients used in henna and was immediately brought to the hospital by a very worried David.

Asher has a knack for finding the most unsettling and disturbing facts and sending them to Milo because he doesn't need to know about it at all and gets pissed when Asher texts him in the middle of something important. (Also, fun fact! Camel's piss is as thick as syrup and it was thought to have medicinal properties, so people back then mixed it with camel milk and drink it. It did not have medicinal properties and didn't taste very good)

Gavin has a taser that is bedazzled in pink gems with text written on the front saying "Get tased, b*tch". He bought it for himself some time ago in case some perv got a little too comfortable without his consent.

Damien has a bad habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he's frustrated or zoning out, and he has done it so much that it old cuts bleed on its own even when he isn't biting it. This has led Huxley to buying lip ointments and lip balms for him and placing them in Damien's and his bags whenever they go out, he also has them littered around his home whenever he comes over, in the pockets of his clothes in case they don't bring their bags when going out, and one more he brings everywhere for back up.

Once Freelancer got Caelum a lego set for him to fiddle with while they were doing their coursework. The next day when he finally finished it, they watched in horror as Caelum destroyed the set so he could build it all over again, since he didn't understanding that once you build it, it's done.

Christian has a designer brand crescent cross body bag (it's not designer, he just likes saying it is because it's one of the only expensive things he owns), and because of this, Arden and Kelsey have lovingly named him an eshay (which is a stereotypically hypermasculine Australian man who are inclined to crime and violence, or basically just an annoying Aussie brat who's obsessed with masculinity/a chav) much to his chagrin.

Sweetheart has half empty cups and mugs scattered all over their room with most of the liquid in it drying up or turning into syrup from all the water evaporating. It hasn't gone so far as for mold to start appearing, but it's definitely getting there.

Porter has collected many little things that remind him of Treasure ever since he met them in that club, such as a surprisingly shiny penny from the ground, a cartoony key with a swirly heart on the end of it, a golden ring with hands on it that when worn looks like arms hugging your finger, and many other things that he keeps in his bedside table.

Darlin' and Sam write notes to each other and lay them around the house for each other to see when doing their normal routine. Like, Darlin' would be in the kitchen making their morning coffee and see a sticky note stuck on top of the coffee machine with some sappy shit like "Love you to bits, my Darlin'<3 P.S. Stop putting so many damn shots in your coffee, you're gonna get heart problems one of these days".

Hope y'all enjoy :)))))))

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :D)))))

[momosweetpeach]

ID below:

A screenshot of discord displaying a string of messages from MomoSweetPeach.

"i bet elephant milk goes hard

i thought of this cuz friend sent a pic of a mammoth and i replied with 'moomooth' and then thot of cows-elephants and yeah

-milk emoji-

camel milk is a thing

yeah i bet they said that about cows too -shows a screenshot of a Quora article stating that elephant milk is not fit for human consumption and isn't recommended to drink-

i will be this, but for elephants -screenshot from the game Ace Attorney, of the character Angel, who is saying "Kind of like the first person who sucked a cow's nipple to discover milk."-

apparently it has a fat content of 12% (unprocessed) vs cows which are only 4%

still ain't nothing compared to seal milk sitting at 60%

those baby slugs are basically chugging butter shakes

End of ID.

[whencyclopedia]

The Nerge: Hunting in the Mongol Empire

The peoples of the Mongol Empire (1206-1368 CE) were nomadic, and they relied on hunting wild game as a valuable source of protein. The Asian steppe is a desolate, windy, and often bitterly cold environment, but for those Mongols with sufficient skills at riding and simultaneously using a bow, there were wild animals to be caught to supplement their largely dairy-based diet. Over time, hunting and falconry became important cultural activities and great hunts were organised whenever there were major clan gatherings and important celebrations. These hunts involved all of the tribe mobilising across vast areas of steppe to corner game into a specific area, a technique known as the nerge. The skills and strategies used during the nerge were often repeated with great success by Mongol cavalry on the battlefield across Asia and in Eastern Europe.

Hunted Animals

The Mongols, like other nomadic peoples of the Asian steppe, relied on milk from their livestock for food and drink, making cheese, yoghurt, dried curds and fermented drinks. The animals they herded - sheep, goats, oxen, camels and yaks - were generally too precious as a regular source of wool and milk to kill for meat and so protein was acquired through hunting, essentially any wild animal that moved. Animals hunted in the medieval period included hares, deer, antelopes, wild boars, wild oxen, marmots, wolves, foxes, rabbits, wild asses, Siberian tigers, lions, and many wild birds, including swans and cranes (using snares and falconry). Meat was especially in demand when great feasts were held to celebrate tribal occasions and political events such as the election of a new khan or Mongol ruler.

A basic division of labour was that women did the cooking and men did the hunting. Meat was typically boiled and more rarely roasted and then added to soups and stews. Dried meat (si'usun) was an especially useful staple for travellers and roaming Mongol warriors. In the harsh steppe environment, nothing was wasted and even the marrow of animal bones was eaten with the leftovers then boiled in a broth to which curd or millet was added. Animal sinews were used in tools and fat was used to waterproof items like tents and saddles.

The Mongols considered eating certain parts of those wild animals which were thought to have potent spirits such as wolves and even marmots a help with certain ailments. Bear paws, for example, were thought to help increase one's resistance to cold temperatures. Such concoctions as powdered tiger bone dissolved in liquor, which is attributed all sorts of benefits for the body, is still a popular medicinal drink today in parts of East Asia.

Besides food and medicine, game animals were also a source of material for clothing. A bit of wolf or snow leopard fur trim to an ordinary robe indicated the wearer was a member of the tribal elite. Fur-lined jackets, trousers, and boots were a welcome insulator against the bitter steppe winters, too.

Continue reading...

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Unscripted Redemption Bracket — Round 3.5−1

Propaganda

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance) (Boba Count: 2):

LUP SWEEP PLEASE I LOVE HER. the first thing she did after being trapped in an umbrella for years is tease her brother for being attracted to the grim reaper. shes iconic

Azu (Rusty Quill Gaming) (Boba Count: 1):

Azu is a bisexual polyamorous neurodivergent Orc lady with a buzz cut.

(RQG spoilers):

She’s a runaway bride who left her home country of Kenya (yes like the real country) just to avoid confrontation with her ex-fiancé who’s actually rly chill.

She dedicated her life to a goddess of love & beauty (because she’s a helpless romantic), then she ditched all her paladin classes to go make out with cute girls instead of learning to cast spells.

She’s also a mother of 2 & she’s so proud of her kids <3

PLEASE VOTE FOR AZU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. SHE'S BLACK. SHE'S BISEXUAL. SHE'S BEAUTIFUL. SHE LOVES HER FRIENDS SO MUCH. HER CAMEL'S NAME IS TOPAZ T. CAMEL!!!!!! (also not just about her but her party's name is LOLOMG. tell me that's not hilarious.)

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

She's the twin of a canon 12/10

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

She's an umbrella for like 12 years. Hard to get sexier than that.

She's the twin of a canon 12/10

Lup is the OG sexy podcast character, I can't handle [her being behind in her first round]

#transdimencional transgender queen entered the chat

Lup's tea:

Some complex layered drink, like chocolate milk, then strawberry milk, then matcha, then taro milk. Mostly to make the employees do it more than because she wanted a drink that complex.

Azu (Rusty Quill Gaming):

Azu is an orc paladin of Aphrodite. She wears bright pink armour, has a massive axe and a lot of guilt about bad things happening to her party members. She's truly the character of all time: strong, unapologetically kind, funny, claustrophobic, willing to sacrifice herself for her friends, emotional, and she has a celestial camel. She's even bisexual. Truly one of my favourite characters ever, I wish she could hug me

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

[lovlidollie]

Random Feyd HCs?

you said random so prepare yourself 😭 also i went way too far into this, the amount of research i did into the first few hcs alone is insane

feyd has a thing for imported cheeses and wines. giedi prime does not have the correct atmosphere nor natural resources to make soft, delicate cheese. the planet doesn’t have any photosynthetic potential, no room for grazing animals (let alone grass and greenery) and is so polluted that those who come visit are stuck with oxygen concentrators and advanced oxygen masks. almost, if not all food is imported from other planets: slig (a cross between a giant slug and a pig) from tleilax (feyd didn’t like it much, it was too sweet and not game-y enough for him.), milkbugs (arachnids the size of a small hand) and turtlebugs (sweet insects) from harmonthep (he didn’t like either. bugs weird feyd out and he doesn’t like looking at them.), paradan melon and pundi rice from caladan (the melon was just okay, but feyd loved having the rice with gyrak (heavily seasoned meat from zimia) as his post-arena meal.).

now let’s get into the wines. champia from rossak was something he only drank at dinner parties and official meetings. it’s a cloyingly sweet white wine, and bubbly, which feyd thinks is the only thing that makes it bearable. it’s too flowery and heady for him to properly enjoy. feyd has a high alcohol tolerance, but champia has a way of getting everyone wine-drunk quicker than they think. zincal is a very popular wine from caladan, which makes it the most accessible to the harkonnens. it’s a light red wine, clean and woody and cherry-like (cherries are one of feyd’s favourite fruits, he likes the acidity of them and enjoys chewing on the pits.) it’s a basic wine that feyd neither hates nor loves. now casyrack? his absolute favourite. it’s a dry, intense red wine, that needs to be aged. less than 5 years and it tastes thin and harsh and not at all enjoyable. it needs to be drunk before it’s eighth birthday, but feyd prefers it aged seven years exactly. it’s velvety and rich, with a smoky, spicy aftertaste that leaves feyd’s stomach feeling warm and his head pleasantly thrumming. it’s not popular across the known universe, leaving thousands of bottles sitting idly in the atreides family compound. feyd had to pull a lot of ropes to get a steady supply of the smooth wine.

now, cheeses. again, feyd is not a fan of sweet things. he likes his food salty, bitter, sour. thick cottage cheese is a yes from him. not the runny type and it specifically needs to be made from sheep milk. while he doesn’t like arrakis in general, he has a secret fondness for the food. feyd loves aged camel milk cheese. it’s rich and creamy with a clean finish and pairs well with meats. on that note, camel meat is one of his favourites to have. he eats all his meat bloody and basically raw (like.. feyd… it’s basically still alive…), but he likes how fatty the camel meat is, leaving it tender and juicy. he also likes thick cream cheese made with goat milk. feyd stuffs the cheese into dates and then rolls them in spice as a special treat for not killing too many people who pissed him off during the day.

feyd loves dark chocolate. he doesn’t like sweets and only enjoys them on very special occasions, which is why dark chocolate is so perfect for him. it’s hard to source, but when he’s able to get it imported he does not share with a single person. his favourite would be the 99%-100% cocoa bars. it helps make him slightly more manageable and puts him in a better mood.

he hosts the best parties on the planet. they’re exclusive and elusive, and all the harkonnen elite want nothing more but to be invited to a feyd-rautha party. supplies the guests with the best alcohol and food one can get their hands on. he generally sticks with his pets, stroking their skimpy, scantily-clad bodies while he drinks his wine. he doesn’t have many friends, but he has acquaintances that he has to keep up appearances with, so feyd is sure to make his way around and greet (threaten) everyone.

ends up fucking one of his pets over a table at one of his parties and ‘accidentally’ starts an orgy.

elite music taste. only knows bangers. gatekeeps the good stuff though.

has a blood kink and would willingly eat you out on your period if you’ve behaved. in fact i feel like he’d be more inclined to eat you out even if you haven’t been the best, purely because he is bloodlusting and wants to taste iron on his tongue.

on that note, would be into wound-fucking .. 🤷

[isawken]

hello tumblr user. in front of you are six drinks. you absolutely must drink one of them to completion.

[camelicious]

Buy Long Life Ready to Drink Camel Milk - Chocolate online from Camelicious Store. Premium Quality & 100% Natural. Order now!

[donaidk]

Franco Colapinto - Cracked Silk IV

Summary: Franco Colapinto, a young, charismatic Argentinian businessman living in Madrid, known for his charm, success, and spotless reputation. Cara Aros , a sharp, elusive woman who refuses to play by anyone’s rules, especially his. No one would have expected the two of them to fall into a flirty game of guesses over coffee, but what starts as playful curiosity slowly unravels into something deeper, riskier, and dangerously close to the truth about the world Franco was born into, the one Cara is determined to expose.

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Pairing: mafia!Franco Colapinto x oc!female

Warnings: it is a mafia fic... so... the usual? lol

Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

By the third day, Franco was ready. Not in the casual, ‘I guess I’ll try’ way. Ready in the way that meant he’d been awake too early, scrolling through past conversations in his head, debating whether to risk being too eager or too obvious. He landed somewhere in the middle: cool on the surface, quietly invested underneath.

Her coffee order wasn’t a guesswork anymore either. He clearly remembered her saying the words – soy milk latte, cinnamon on top, medium size. She sounded genuine while ordering it. It had to be real this time. Not a decoy. Not for her mentor. This one, he was sure, was hers. So he ordered it early, right when he arrived. Dani the barista had only raised his eyebrows and given the tiniest, most tired shrug.

He sat at his usual table, coffee for two in hand, placing hers on the other side like it belonged there. Laptop open, screen glowing, his hands hovering over the keyboard doing absolutely nothing productive. He refreshed his inbox five times. Answered one message. Stared at the street.

At 7:15 exactly, the bell chimed. She walked in like she always did, like she hadn’t thought twice about coming here again, like she didn’t notice his anticipation, like this wasn’t three days in a row and counting. Her blazer today was camel-colored, over a pale grey turtleneck, with high-waisted slacks and low boots that clacked softly against the floor. Sleek and functional. No excess. No frills. Just like what he got used to with her.

“Your order, waiting and ready,” he said as soon as their eyes met, like he’d nailed something worth applause.

She raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You remembered.”

“I listen.”

„Sometimes.” She picked it up and took a slow sip. Paused. Then looked at him with complete, expressionless calm. “It’s already cold.”

Franco stared. “You’re joking.”

She sat down, crossed her legs, and held the cup like a disappointing gift. “Room temperature at best.”

“I got it the moment I walked in.”

“That was nine minutes ago.”

“Nine minutes doesn’t make it cold.” He groaned, slumping back into his chair. “You’re impossible.”

“Careless,” she corrected. “But it’s a sweet gesture.”

Franco watched her for a long moment. “So you’re not gonna drink it?”

“I’ll drink it. Just very slowly. And with judgment.”

He smirked, took a sip of his own coffee, and leaned forward. “You know what? I’m starting to think you don’t want me to win.”

Leonor gave a tiny shrug. “Winning is subjective.”

Franco let out a breath and shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Fine. New round?”

She nodded. “New round.” She nodded, but held up a finger. „But make it more interesting. let’s leave the job topic behind.”

„You’re giving me free range with the questions… That’s surprising for someone who likes to keep things private.” His eyes squinted just for a second, suspecting there will be a twist.

„I can evolve too. Slowly.” She shrugged, taking another síp of the coffee with less of a grimace.

„Let’s see.” He steepled his fingers, serious now. “You’re an only child.”

“No.”

“Two siblings. Both younger.”

“Nope.”

“Okay, you’re the middle of three.”

“Warmer.” Her tiny nod already felt like a partial win.

“You have an older sister and a younger brother.”

“Colder.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Two sisters?”

“Bingo.”

“Let me guess. You’re the quiet one.” She gave him a look so flat he laughed. “Right, no, you’re the feral one,” he said. “The one everyone stopped trying to ground because it just wasn’t worth the effort.”

She smiled slowly. “I’m not saying you’re right.”

“But I’m not wrong.” She took another sip of her lukewarm latte. “Your turn.”

“Fire away.”

“You’re from Buenos Aires.”

Franco blinked.

“You moved to Spain when you were…” she tilted her head, pretending to think “seventeen.”

He frowned. “How do you…”

“Your company was registered under your name a week after your eighteenth birthday,” she said, casually. “But I saw a press quote about your 'mature approach' for someone who’d ‘just landed’ in Madrid.” He blinked again. Leonor’s expression didn’t shift. “You still think I just guessed your job?”

“You Googled me.”

“Of course I did.”

He sat back, surprised. “When?”

“After the gala.”

“You didn’t even know my last name then.”

“I had your first name. Accent. Age. Location. I figured it out.”

Franco stared. “Jesus.”

“You’re not that hard to find. There’s a whole photo of you standing next to the Deputy Mayor last year. With your dad, no less.”

His mouth tightened slightly.

“And don’t look so scandalized,” she added. “You’re a public figure. Business kid genius. Too much charm, not enough plausible deniability.”

He looked at her now with something sharper than amusement. “So you knew everything about me before we had our first coffee.”

“Not everything,” she said. “I know what you have been born into. Not who you really are.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think the logistics thing is far away from you.”

Franco smirked. “And what? It’s your turn to guess who I really am?”

“No,” she said simply. “I don’t care who you really are.”

That surprised him, and although he would never say this out loud but wounded him.

“I care who you pretend to be,” she continued. “That’s more useful.”

Franco paused, processing that then smiled. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”

“You said that yesterday.”

“Still true.”

She took another sip of her coffee, her face still silently complaining, but she never stopped sipping and watching him over the rim.

Franco reached for his drink, then said, “You’ve never told me your last name.”

“I haven’t.”

“You gonna?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because then you’ll Google me, and that’s no fun at all.”

He rolled his eyes. “So you get to know everything, and I get nothing?”

“You get coffee.”

He smirked. “And what do you get?”

Leonor leaned in just enough for him to notice, her voice low and teasing. “I get to keep you curious.” Then she straightened, grabbed her bag, and slid her phone into her pocket.

“See you tomorrow?” Franco asked, hopeful despite himself.

She paused at the door and gave him one last look, just enough to make him question everything. “We’ll see,” she said, with a smile that made it feel more like yes than maybe. The first time he wasn’t guestioning the words coming out of her mouth.

Then she was gone, the bell above the door ringing softly behind her, her coffee half-finished on the table. Again.

[aria-bun]

Latte

In which Corvus realizes his feelings Read (in full!) on ao3!

LATTE

/ˈläˌtā/ (n.)

A type of coffee made with espresso and hot steamed milk, milkier than a Cappuccino.

——————————————————————

Corvus pushed the door open to Katolis Coffee, quickly walking inside to escape the harsh winds and snow. The world decided that it’d start Hanukka off with conditions close to a blizzard.

Great.

“Hey there birdman.” Soren grinned from behind the counter. “I was hoping you’d come in today.”

“Oh?” Corvus raised his eyebrows at him, walking over. The cafe was a bit busier than usual, with a few of the tables occupied. “How come?”

“Well, I did some research.” He started, putting a cup down on the other side of the counter. “And figured out today is the first day of Hanukka. So I made you a cinnamon latte.”

“Is it kosher?” Corvus asked, hiding a smile.

“Huh?”

“Is the latte kosher?”

“Erm- I don’t-”

He grinned, picking up the mug. “Kidding, I’m kidding. Unless you milked a camel or a pig, it should be good. Thank you.” He dug his wallet out of his pocket with his empty hand.

Soren waved him off. “It’s on the house. Happy Hanukka.” He winked, and Corvus felt his face flush slightly.

Was Soren flirting with him?

No. No, he wasn’t. He’s just like that.

Why was he overthinking this?

“Erm- Thank you, Soren.” He hid his face by sipping the latte. It was good. Really good.

“You’re welcome.” He grinned.

“I- can I get this to-go?” Corvus asked him, setting the cup down.

“Oh. Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

“I’m sorry, I just realized I have a class in 15 minutes.” He stuck his hands into his pockets as Soren put his drink into a to-go cup.

Corvus took his drink back when he was done, taking another sip of it.

“I’ll see you around?” Soren asked

“Mhm, yep.” He nodded, pulling open the door and stepping outside, the harsh wind and snow biting at his face.

He didn’t have a class in 15 minutes. His next class was at 2 pm. 

Corvus didn’t know why he did that.

He instead made his way back to the dorm, going up the emergency exit stairs. 

Once he had gotten back to his dorm, he flopped onto his bed, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“What the hell happened to you?” He moved his hands and looked across the room out of the corner of his eye. Opeli was sitting cross-legged on her bed with a book in her lap, staring at him.

“I fucked up.”

“Wonderful. Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

“Great.”

“No, it’s not great.” He stared at the ceiling. “I think I’m in love with Soren.”

“I always think you can’t get any more dramatic and then you prove me wrong.” She said, closing her book. “What happened.”

“He made me a latte.”

“He made you a latte.” She repeated. “He’s a barista, how low are your standards?”

“No, that’s not the point. He made me a cinnamon latte because he did some research and found out today was the first day of Hanukka and wanted to surprise me.”

“Not the cinnamon.” She deadpanned, opening her book again. “Again, drama major. Consider it. Why did you leave.”

“I panicked and told him I had class.”

“But you don’t.”

“I don’t!” He looked at the to-go cup on his desk next to him, the logo for Katolis Coffee staring back at him. “I’m never going back there.”

“Do I need to sign you up for the university's production of Hamlet?” Opeli thumbed through her book. “Remind me to never let you around pretty boys with American accents, you become an absolute mess.”

“I’m not a mess.” He glared at her. “I’m just being sensible and sparing a lot of emotion. I don’t even know if he likes guys!”

“He does.”

Corvus sat up. “How do you know that?”

“I know Soren.”

“Right.” He looked back at the to-go cup before picking it up and taking a sip from it.

“So what, you’re just gonna avoid him?”

“Exactly.”

Opeli sighed. “Alright then.”

“Don’t judge me. I can feel you judging me.”

“Too late.”

“Fuck you.”

——————————————————————

Close to 9 PM, there was a knock on the door to the dorm room. Opeli had left a few hours ago, though Corvus didn’t ask why.

“Opeli, you can just open the door.” He said from his desk, drumming his fingers against his desk while looking at his laptop.

The knocking continued.

He blew out a breath. “Seriously?” He got up from his chair and walked across the room to the door, opening it. 

Instead of it being Opeli, like he had expected, it was Terry. 

He was crying, his round glasses fogged up.

Corvus frowned slightly “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry-” Terry sniffed slightly “I don’t know many people, and I knew you were in this building.”

“Terry. What’s going on?” Corvus opened the door more, letting him in.

The green-haired boy stepped in, wiping at his eyes with the side of his palm. “Claudia broke up with me.”

Oh, we’re at this stage of friendship.

Corvus and Terry had been talking a bit more recently, practicing for the concert when they had free time and quizzing each other for finals. 

He didn’t know they were this much of friends though.

“Oh- Terry I’m sorry.” He closed the door behind him and awkwardly patted his shoulder. “Erm- I’m not good at this. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I mean-” Terry sniffed again, removing his glasses and sitting on the floor. “It isn’t too much to talk about.” His breathing was shaky.

Corvus rolled his chair from his desk, sitting down. “What happened?”

“Well,” He sniffed. “Her and Soren’s dad had been off the grid for, like, two years, right? Apparently she found out where he was. She’s leaving.” Terry hiccuped slightly. “I wanted to go with her. I said I’d go with her.” He tucked his knees under his chin “I wanted to help her.” His voice was quiet. “Then she broke it off. We share a dorm, so I couldn’t stay there. You were the closest.”

“You can stay here,” Corvus said to him.

“No, no, I don’t want to force anyone out-”

“You won’t. You need some sleep.” He grabbed his trench coat from his chair. “I’m going to head out for some air.”

“Corvus?” Terry asked.

He turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Corvus nodded, before slipping out the door.

He found himself on the emergency exit stairs, leaning against the railing on one of the small platforms. His breath clouded up in front of him as he looked over the empty campus. The only light was from the moon and the small solar-powered lights that lined the sidewalks.

He heard footsteps against the metal stairs from a few floors above, but didn’t spare a glance. They were probably sneaking into a party or about to vomit off the side of the stairs from alcohol poisoning and didn’t care to see either.

“Rough day?” He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Am I that obvious?”

“A little.” Soren nudged his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

“Terry paid me a visit,” Corvus answered. “Told me what’s going on with your sister. Rough night for you too?”

“That’s an understatement.” He leaned back against the railing, his forearms resting on it. “Virien isn’t the best guy. Not to me, at least. He loved Clauds.”

“I’m sorry.”

Soren blew out a breath. “I’d say it’s alright, but it isn’t. I don’t want him to let her down.”

Corvus looked at him. His messy blonde hair was covered by a red beanie, a bit of it hanging in his face in front of his blue eyes. He wore his bomber jacket and fingerless gloves, the tips of his fingers red.

“How are your hands not cold?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, they are. But they look cool, so it’s all worth it.” Soren grinned, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“Your funeral, man.”

“Says the guy with no gloves.” He pointed out.

“Okay, okay, you’ve got me there.” Corvus stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m not a big gloves guy.”

“Really?”

“They’re itchy and limit movement. I’d rather have the cold hands.”

“That’s fair.” Soren barked out a small laugh. “How were your finals?”

“Absolute shit. Yours?”

“Equally as shit probably.”

“Opeli was convinced she failed her Economics final.” Corvus leaned back against the railing, mimicking Soren.

“Opeli? You serious?” Soren raised his eyebrows.

“That’s what I said.”

“Was she right?”

“Passed with flying colors.”

“Thought so.” He nudged Corvus with his shoulder again. “Terry’s gonna be alright.”

“So is Claudia.” He responded.

“I hope so.”

[theposhsworld]

“Help Maria! My girlfriend I met at Dior went down the Anna Bey rabbit hole all the way into escorting & is mad that I am still traditional and not dysfunctional and trying to ruin my life, what should I do? How do I get rid of her?” When your friend becomes dysfunctional you have to run before she teams up with your ex’s & enemies trying to sabotage your relationships. Here is my advice how to get rid of dysfunctional friends

My friend messaged me that when she started to level up during the pandemic watching Anna Bey her old friends dropped like flies and ran away as if she had Covid. Suddenly they had nothing in common. She said my post resonated very well. She said the shock from this made her a pick me with women in her scarcity mindset. Even though she was traditional in the liberal place she lived she had more in common with sugar baby’s who were not triggered by her femininity than by masculinas and masculine Pickmeishas. She was so happy to find a feminine friend at Dior that she overlooked her greedy character.

My friend met her girlfriend at Dior when the pandemic was dying out and stores were open again. Both bought their bag with their own money from work and found they both watched Anna Bey. My friend is traditional and her girlfriend is liberal. We will call Materialistic Misty.

Misty was from a village and enthralled that at first she could earn a piece of designer she dreamed of. Misty loved Tattle and saw how the jet set babes from Russia living her dream lifestyle young girls covered with designer clothes were more often than not sugar babies and escorts travelling to exotic locations. Materialistic Misty was thirsty for this lifestyle so she started sugar dating then out right escorting. Misty began to travel to Dubai and returned very traumatized though with designer bags. Misty’s instagram changed from elegant to tiny bikinis with designer jewellery and a designer bag on the side in exotic locations.

Materialistic Misty got lots of plastic surgery on her face and body from her Johns paying her. At first she started with BSDM dungeons & Miami yacht parties, dancing topless in Miami night clubs. Misty had foursome with an elderly man and his friends in Dubai. She had to give a camel a bj and eat poop and drink urine and do all kinds of BDSM. She would do an elderly sheikh in the morning and get his grandchildren to lose virginity in the afternoon. She would let the sheikh’s driver and body guards run a train on her and have to have surgery to fix how they ripped her insides. She lost all interest in men & hated sax but would come back for the money.

Materialistic Misty loved yachts, champagne and was at the Cannes film festival “milk run”. Meaning she bathed topless on those yachts and did sax for cash. In her instagram of course she was in Cannes because she was a minor instagram star with her travel photos.

All of this began to take its toll. Misty tried dating normal gentlemen in her hometown but was asexual, traumatized and easily triggered.

She had a gorgeous penthouse and all the material things she ever dreamed of but was freaked out if her date would try to touch her let alone kiss her. She had a serious case of PTSD but refused therapy because she was addicted to money to pay for shopping and vacationing to buy status symbols. Materialistic Misty didn’t enjoy vacations but they were business trips where she would hire a photographer and hair stylist and if she could makeup artist. She even hired a model coach but she wasn’t modeling any product but a false sense of status.

Misty had imposter syndrome. She was “important” because she was an instagram model who possed all the right status symbols but what she had to do to earn them made her hate them eventually from the penthouse to the designer bags to the fancy luxury vacations that were not even fun because they were just photoshoots and the few days without makeup and a camera crew she was detoxing trauma that paid for the vacation.

Our lady is conservative, traditional and religious. Misty was the only one from her new life who was not judging her for her new found conservatism and femininity in a liberal American city. Only later did she make friends via online facebook groups that suited her better.

IMisty started to have a lot of problems because she was trying to vanilla date between her “successful model” career. She didn’t address her trauma so she would always fall for dusty excuses and behaviour, fall for the love bombing & pull away tactics then flip out like crazy and got a restraining order from an ex. She stalked his facebook and send crazy defamatory messages to all his friends. Yes her ex was leading her on so she had a right to be mad but messaging all this friends is harassment and stalking.

Misty had extremely dysfunctional trauma bonding vanilla relationships while doing escorting.

Our friend meanwhile was doing inner work. She had her bag, colour consultation and basic wardrobe and two pairs of decent shoes and spent the rest on a therapist. Our lady wasn’t addicted to money and leveled up slowly.

At first before the therapist our lady trauma bonded with Misty complaining about dusties and 50-50. After therapy she stopped doing this. That’s why she related to Suha’s story. Her friend became a little more distant.

Our lady followed my advices on stoicism, reciprocity and being a traditional lady adding value while being an assertive queen. Our lady got engaged. Then Misty was shocked. Our lady was wearing a giant engagement ring. Misty thought she was a relatively broke loser and engaged rubbing in her wealth, taking her out somewhere expensive and paying for her what she couldn’t afford so much lobster regularly with an office job.

Misty offered our last to go to Vegas, Miami, then Dubai then the South of France in Cannes for the Cannes Film Festival the past two years and our lady made excuses why she couldn’t go because it sounded like human trafficking. Misty called her a prude and that she should live a little and she will pay for everything. Our lady said “I still have work to let go of my inner masculina instinct to be financially independent. I am doing therapy for it, give me time.” Misty says sounds good.

Misty was the nicest most supportive generous friend. She kept our lady around like insecure semi pretty girls keep a fat friend to feel hot in comparison with.

The friendship was fun and supportive then took a turn for the worse.

Suddenly our lady is getting married to a multi millionaire after four years of work. Misty tried to hide her envy but it was obvious. Here her prudish churchy friend was going to have the money and soft life of her dreams without ever seeing Dubai, sucking camels or the hard work of extreme escorting. She thought How Unfair! The irony is that our prudish religious friend oozes more sensuality in her finger because she loves men and hasn’t been traumatized & is fun & flirty compared to the cold materialistic zombie Misty.

It’s like the story of the 🐇 rabbit and the turtle🐢. The rabbit sprints fast far ahead then gets tired. The turtle slowly walks until she surpasses the rabbit and then finally as the rabbit is catch its breath the turtle slowly walks to the finish line and wins.

The long term way is the turtle way. The short term way is the rabbit way.

Now materialistic Misty was no sugar babe but straight out escort who was trying to dabble in both sugar and vanilla. Obviously her greedy extreme short term no inner work strategy would eventually backfire.

When Misty found out about our lady getting engaged she was extremely jealous. She invited herself to meet our lady’s fiancé. This was a big mistake. She flirted with him and he was not amused. Misty is crazed by extreme materialism. Being slightly materialistic is a good thing for women, makes you spoiled and not taken advantage of. However don’t sell your living body for purses of dead cow skin.

One of my mother’s friends married a royal. She would invite her single unmarried friend over, her best friend. This best friend found out how to bump into her husband and became his mistress. When my mother’s friend found out, she was very upset and complained. Her royal husband threw her off the balcony. She was lucky to only be injured. Her husband got away with this because of money and connections. She was lucky to be alive and had to leave the country. Ladies don’t introduce single friends to your provider husbands. Not all friends are good hearted like you.

Back to Misty. Guess what she was up to? She tried to show up at the restaurant in front of my friends fiancé’s work a few times and once bumped into him and he pretended not to know her. He said to my friend “I like your other friend but this girl is not a good girl and not your friend dump her.” Since then my friend has made friends in her town including from facebook .

When my friend went through the level up chasm she clung to Misty like a Pickmeisha because her masculina friends dumped her and attacked her for no longer having anything in common. It took a couple years to make better suited friends.

Misty had a daughter from a dusty ex boyfriend who is now 8. Raised by an au pair when she is travelling to escort. She told my friend when are you getting married, I am taking my daughter to the pool in your new rooftop condo. Imagine that. She got the intelligence where he lived and the building has a rooftop pool and indoor pool. Very creepy.

My friend asked me what to do?

I said she clearly is no longer your friend, jealous of you and trying to steal your fiancé and he can see that, dump her. She said “I can’t because she has black mail on me that we watched Anna Bey videos together and can screenshot my conversations how it’s important to marry a provider and not a broke dusty like her ex.”

I said “so? Tell him.”

She said “He was raised by his mother who is a career woman and parents divorced. She was offended that I wanted to be a housewife and quit my career and only work part time and called me lazy. My fiancé defended me and said he wants someone who prioritizes her family over career. His mom suspects I am a gold digger because I am not a feminist like her.”

“You are a traditional woman, no one is a feminine housewife for free.”

“That’s what my fiancé says. He wanted the opposite from his mom because she was not present for his father and him & his sister. That is why the marriage broke down. He said his father learned his lesson and picked a more family oriented less ambitious second wife. My stepmother in law adores me and I am a lot like her. His mother can’t stand her and calls her a gold digger. Of course that I am like my stepmother in law and not like my mother in law is a massive blow to my mother in law’s ego”

“So if there is even a bit of talk of hypergamy that masculina in law will force a massive prenup and try to turn your life into a living hell for to discourage you from marrying him?”

“Exactly. That masculina’s ego is hurt that I am like my feminine stepmother in law and is hunting for evidence to use against me. She said her son should have a prenup and he told her “what is the point of wasting money to tell a lawyer that half of my assets will belong to my wife in case of a divorce because of sacrificing her career for me.”

“So you don’t want to add kersone to the fire.”

“Exactly”

“Okay so use anti seduction. Read what Robert Greene says is an anti seducer.”

“Okay”

“Be moralizing and invalidating”

“How”

“Make your social media private for now and tell her you found Buddha!”

“What?! But I am Christian”

“Say you think it’s compatible with loving Jesus, but now you have sold all your Dior bags and only shop at Walmart and you have renounced your materialistic possessions to follow Buddha and Jesus. Did the Bible not say that the rich man can only go to heaven in the eye of a needle?”

“Hmmm good one”

“Show up no make up in cheap ugly neutral clothes like a grey t shirt and sweatpants and flip flops from Goodwill, Walmart or a charity and shower but don’t come your hair no makeup. Let your eyebrows grow a little. Use shaving and makeup until you shave on Friday and let them grow and see her on Sunday. Remove your manicure keep nails short. It’s worth it.

Tell her she must renounce her materialistic waves of Samasara and unholy relations with men she is unmarried to or demons will drag her to her. She will day you are crazy.

Say my mother in law was hoping he would marry an unmateriastic Buddhist and I made a poor impression dressy bougie in a Dior bag. I have to be a good Buddhist girl to get her to bless our marriage. She is a career woman so I have to show I am serious in my career like her and unmaterialistic”

“Maria then she will say what is the point of being married?”

“That is where you say ‘love is the point of being married. I am sorry you never experienced it because of your sinful life but it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“lol she will hate that”

“Get your fiancé in on it asking when is she going to graduate school because modeling isn’t a career and being an Instagram model who travels the world sounds like a flousey so men will have fun with her but not marry so she should shut down her instagram and find a normal job like an accountant and learn to meditate and wear less designer because that many designer things on a young woman can be mistaken for sugar dating even if you have a successful job in sales, instagram and modeling and ask her if she wants to join you two on a lecture of a monk on how to be less materialistic and give your money to charity”

“lol. What if she keeps inviting herself over”

“Ask her if she has sold all her designer clothes and designer furniture so she is spiritually pure enough to be around you. Also on instagram when you see her having any designer say it’s too much logo maybe get toys for her daughter. Under every trip write a comment that she should stop leaving her daughter behind on these luxury trips, she is being a bad mother leaving her daughter behind for luxury”

“lol love that”

“Nothing is more anti seductive than being judgmental so start with asking her if she thinks she is a bad mother abandoning her daughter for all those luxury trips”

“Oh haha 😆 she will hate me”

“So just be careful to start negging and moralizing lightly not hit her with the sledgehammer of anti seduction so that she sends screenshots of Anna Bey & my Facebook wall to your hand on the trigger masculina mother in law. However just always dress so broke each time you see her and temporarily switch off your social media and start moralizing and neg a little. Act superior and snooty like you are trying to convert a lost soul into a Buddhist monk because you think it’s good for her.

It will be as fun as for a vampire to be around garlic. Gradually increase the intensity so she doesn’t suspect you are playing a game to prevent husband stealing.”

“Okay got you.”

“Act fake concerned about the daughter spending too much time with the nanny. Then later after a week say you are concerned materialism is destroying her child.”

“Gradually up the heat”

“Yes now we add the last piece of anti seduction, desperation.”

“Oh my how”

“Isn’t she always calling you and you run?”

“Yes!”

“Now you have to chase to only moralize and invalidate her like pretend you are the social justice warrior of Buddhism.”

“lol 🤣🤣”

“Call her because you really want to talk to her about her repenting, giving up her materialistic ways and donating all her money to your Buddhist temple with the zeal of a new convert and be desperate in getting her to meet. Now normally I would say don’t introduce her but too late. Your fiancé met her & hates her.

Tell him she started out a nice girl but now is weird so she can’t get a boyfriend. When she found out you were engaged she started spreading rumours. Her boyfriends filed restraining orders against her and she received libel letters. She was my first friend here back when she was normal, we met at Dior but now she is weird and I don’t want her to slander me like she did with her ex’s so I have been trying to distance myself since and she keeps crawling back. Now she is very mad and jealous I am engaged and refuses to see a therapist. I need your help and I suspect she is doing dirty things because she didn’t have all that stuff when I met her & a simple job like me so how she got rich that fast is suspicious to me.

This way he won’t believe a defamation campaign and will find it amusing to meet her and give her moral lectures and tell her instagram modeling is not a job and she should be a career woman like his mother, bring flyers for jobs like accounting or ultra sound technician, nursing, how to code. Say she will be single forever if she won’t have a serious career and men take her instagram the wrong way, no mother in law will let her get married unless she is more career oriented, less materialistic and shuts down her instagram and not afraid to split coffees and small things 50/50. “

“lol that 50-50 word grosses her out. “

“Since he is an atheist you can read up on Buddha, Buddhist aestheticism and find out how to repel her. I heard begging is a Buddhist ritual. Ask her if the two of you can wear cheap clothes and go begging together instead of having lunch at the Ritz”

“lol that should definitely put her off”

“Remember it’s the boiled frog effect. If the water is too hot the frog will jump out. Start gradually upping the anti seduction temperature.

Remember the anti seduction factors are

🩴🤣 Moralizing

🩴🤣Invalidation

🩴🤣 Being judgmental

🩴🤣 Desperate and chasing

Stir these anti seduction ingredients into the bowl 🥣 and season 🧂gradually until you have achieved the desired flavour. And that my friend is the recipe of anti seduction soup.

She will start avoiding you. Don’t forget to block her when you switch your social media back on and don’t post anything she would envy until you get married. Then pretend you don’t know her. Then when you are married she can’t blackmail you anymore because who cares about Anna Bey if your in laws know you. “

——————————————————-

I gave this advice last week.

Update from when I gave her the advice:

“I called her and started to moralize, judge, invalidate and said if we can change tea at the ritz to a Buddhist temple meditation class on the weekend. She started to avoid me. My calls go to voicemail. She made an excuse that she was busy. I went to the meditation class on the weekend with my fiancé who thought it was a cool thing to do and I dressed plain simple no makeup and a pony tail.

I took a photo of us in front of the monastery and wrote in the caption “couples that pray together stay together. Since you didn’t go I went with my fiancé and we loved it!” She left me on read. I then called her three times like a pyscho and it went to voicemail so I ranted and raved about the monastery. Then I made sure to have the right amount of moral condescension that she should spent less time on material things in the way of Samsara and more time with her daughter because those are her formative years.

Judging by her photos is spending more time with her weird new creepy escort industry friends and has completely ghosted me. No more rumours except that I am weird since I got engaged to the “cheap rich dusty loser”. It worked! I just managed to block her without her noticing and can live my life in peace! Thank you so much Maria!”

———————-

It’s better to get rid of friends by the 4 tools of anti seduction then blocking then outright blocking if possible especially if they have not insulted you and you just want to stop hanging out with them

This post is a testament that it’s better to be alone during the level up chasm where you lose your unleveled up friends than be desperate and make friends with just about anyone who is feminine you don’t care if she is a criminal.

Losing all your life long friends at once when you level up can make it tempting to be a doormat & befriend just about anyone feminine but then if you are not at the same level & keep leveling up they can get jealous and try to ruin your life. As you level up no friends are always better than low quality friends

Credit Maria Al Masani

[valoisfulcanellideux]

The Apiarist's Diary

Here is the full text of my contribution to @empiropediazine

I was one of the contributors for Pixandria (where else? - lol!) with a diary entry by the city’s Apiarist, wherein they record a day that the great desert empire will never forget.

Behind the cut with you!

THE APIARIST'S DIARY

Many times before have I readied the bees to receive their master, the King. Not a week goes by without his arrival to inspect the hives, for the quality of their wax is one of the most sacred and important things in our empire. Copper is what we trade with the world, but candles are what we hold close to our hearts, and a candle made from impure wax would disrespect the death it is intended to honour.

Every day I sweep the floors and trim the vines, plucking a few of their choicest glowing berries. These little delights grow soft and plump when placed in a bowl of cool water, so should the King be in need of refreshment they will provide both food and drink for him in one sweet bite. And, if he does not visit the apiary on that day, why then my children have a treat after their evening meal.

A jug of water from the fountain outside cools the copper inlays in the floor, and a regular dousing of it - especially at the sun’s zenith - keeps the apiary’s temperature more tolerable and the bees content. I keep a close watch on the water channel surrounding the inlays, for as long as it is full the bees will take water back to their hives and fan it with their wings to cool the air. Remarkable creatures are my myriad little friends.

Each day is much the same; the comforting constant of routine and the drowsy hum of my charges as they move between flower and hive. I, too, sometimes hum as I work, keeping time throughout my day to the rhythm of the bees.

Yesterday morning I rose just before the sun, broke my fast with bread and a little spiced camel milk, and then took my usual route across the bridge, pausing for a few minutes to take in and enjoy the sight of the riverside gardens. At that hour the air is still fresh from the night, and a brief stop there will waken even the sleepiest of eyes.

The pylons glowed with their gentle warmth, sentinels at each end of the bridge that leads into the city’s heart. But a greater glow lay beyond, and I paused again to look up at the Vigil, my spirits lifted as I watched the gentle flicker of candles and the serene drift of lanterns.

Many hurry past the Vigil as they go about their day, the glory of its light outshone by the sun. But in the darker hours of dusk and night, it is as if its presence is remembered by all, and footsteps are slowed, and eyes are raised to find a special candle or lantern here or there.

A new candle now rests there, alone and apart from the rest. And this candle is dyed a deep, dusky pink; a colour that has never before been used at the Vigil.

Aye. Yesterday began much the same as any other day. But it ended like no other day ever had.

The King arrived late in the afternoon, much beyond his usual hour, for his visits tend to occur in the early morning. Indeed, I was caught unawares as I heard quiet footsteps on the copper inlays, and I turned to see him standing there in full armour. His shield was battered, its Pixandrian flag tattered and rent in multiple places, as though something had clawed or slashed at it.

I bowed my head, touching the tips of my fingers to my forehead. Usually when I rise from this deference, I see a smile and a nod from him, but not that day. He was stillness in the form of a man, and I realised that this was not merely a visit to inspect the hives or check the quality of the wax.

This was a visit in the wake of a battle.

Hopeful of assuaging the hollow look in his eyes with an act of kindness, I reached for the bowl into which I had placed the finest berries from the vines, but before I had fully picked it up, he raised a hand to negate my offer.

“I bear news,” was all he said, and his voice was but a hoarse murmur.

The bees of Pixandria must be told of all news, both good and ill, that befalls the empire. This has long been a courtesy afforded to them by our people, as the bees give us so much and hold an honoured role in our society. Some may view this custom as mere superstition, but neither I nor the King would risk angering or upsetting the bees, for fear that they will grow sickly and die, or desert their hives and leave us with no way to honour our dead at the Vigil.

I bowed my head once more and then turned to address the bees, whose drowsy hum seemed to fade, as if in readiness to listen.

“Little friends, your Master has news to tell you,” I said. “Pay heed to his words, and no matter what they are, do not leave us.”

When I next looked at the King, he had lowered his head and seemed to be summoning… I will not write ‘courage’ for I have never known him to be weak-hearted. Perhaps he merely needed a moment to consider his words, for he then walked to the first hive and bent down to it.

He knocked gently on the front of the hive to summon the bees’ attention, placed his lips close to it, and murmured a few words. As he finished speaking, he plucked from his belt a small piece of cloth that had been dyed a deep dusky pink - the colour of mourning worn by our people - and he draped it atop the hive.

The hive fell silent.

He moved to the next, bending to knock gently upon it and murmur the same words before placing atop it the mourning cloth.

That hive, too, fell silent.

Quietly, he moved around the apiary, and as he did so the distress and grief on his face grew. I did not know what words he spoke to the bees, but it surely must have been terrible news, as each hive grew quiet as he put its bees into mourning.

He reached the final hive, which I was close enough to that I could finally hear his words.

“Little bees,” he murmured as he placed the mourning cloth atop the hive. “The guardian at the end of all things who holds the world safe is dead. And… mine was one of the hands who brought her down. I must go away, but I beg that you stay and do not desert my people.”

With those final words, he straightened and looked directly at me for the first time, knowing that I had heard his confession. Not a word did he speak as he stared at me, but in his eyes I saw not only distress and grief, but also shame. He turned and walked out of the apiary, and I hastened after him, watching as he walked away from Pixandria toward the setting sun. With one hand, he wrenched his helmet from his head, throwing it to the sands as he strode with a wretched determination away from his people.

~~~

My contribution was based on the very real old custom of 'telling the bees' which - given the importance of those little creatures to this empire of copper and candles, felt like an apt thing to write about.

You can find the full zine - free to download - at this post :)