#Palm Oil Refining

[mectech1]

Mectech Palm Oil Refinery Plant- A Legacy of Innovation and Excellence

Oil processing, often known as refining, is the conversion of crude oil into usable products such as petrol, diesel, kerosene, and other petrochemicals. The refining process consists of multiple essential steps, including separation, conversion, treatment, blending, and other refining processes.

Oil refining is a complicated and energy-intensive process that necessitates advanced equipment and technology. It is an important link in the worldwide energy supply chain, providing fuel for transportation, heating, and electricity generation, as well as raw materials for the petrochemical sector.

Of all the oil refining and processing industries, palm oil refinery is the most important sector as it is a very complex oil and for its production it requires good quality plant.

Palm Oil Refining

Palm oil refining industries are among the world's most important manufacturing sectors, and palm oil has grown to become the world's most traded vegetable oil. Indonesia and Malaysia are the main producers, with exporting enterprises for crude palm oil.

Crude palm oil is derived from palm oil's mesocarp. Extracted Crude Palm oil contains some undesirable contaminants, which must be eliminated partially or fully throughout the palm oil refining process to produce good edible oil with increased stability and keepability.

Palm oil is currently a popular cooking oil in many tropical nations, including South East Asia, Africa, and sections of Brazil. Its popularity is attributed due to its higher heat resistance as compared to any other vegetable oil and also because of its lower cost and good oxidative stability.

Palm's unique and finest quality is that it generates two forms of oil: palm oil and palm kernel oil.

Palm oil is derived from the flesh of the palm fruit, whereas palm kernel oil is extracted from the seeds or kernel of the palm fruit using the palm kernel oil process.

Palm oil is derived from fresh palm fruit flesh through pressing and centrifugation at a palm oil facility. To avoid deterioration of Palm Oil, it must be extracted from fresh palm fruit. As a result, countries that cultivate palm oil remove it to prevent it from deteriorating. The crude palm oil's colour is yellow-red or dark yellow, and its taste is sweet.

The crude palm oil extracted contains undesired contaminants, which hurt the oil's physical appearance, quality, oxidative stability, and shelf life. To eliminate the aforementioned pollutants, the oil is sent to a palm oil refinery plant, where it is refined, bleached, and deodorised. After refining the palm oil, the RBD oil is sent to the fractionation unit to extract palm olein and stearin.

Palm Oil Refinery Plant

Palm oil refining is divided into the sections below:

In most palm oil refining plants, the refining process is a vital stage in the manufacture of edible oils and fats. The finished product's properties that must be monitored include flavour, shelf life, stability, and colour.

Crude vegetable oil can be refined in two ways: physically or chemically. During crude palm oil refining, FFA is removed to obtain a maximum FFA level of 0.1%.

Physical refining typically has a smaller environmental impact than chemical refining.

Bleaching edible oils and fats is an important step in the refining process for crude oils and fat. It does eliminate numerous contaminants, which hurt the physical look and quality of the oil. Generally, the oil is taken to the bleaching section first, and the gums are treated with phosphoric acid so that they may be separated in the pressure leaf filter after bleaching.

During this stage, the adsorptive activity of bleaching earth removes trace metal complexes like iron and copper, colouring pigments, phosphatides, and oxidative products.

This bleached oil is next filtered through industrial filters such as a filter press, a hermetically sealed vertical leaf pressure filter, a plate, or a frame filter.

Mectech's unique bleacher design keeps the bleaching earth in full suspension, resulting in no dead zones and lower utility use. Mectech Bleacher guarantees high-quality oil because the bleaching procedure for crude palm oil is carried out under controlled conditions.

Mectech also excels in supplying facilities for rice bran oil processing refinery in India and abroad. Mectech Rice Bran Oil Extraction Machinery in India and abroad offers the following advantages.

[gennie123]

Healthy Cookies For Chai time | No refined sugar, No maida, No preservatives

Here, we will tell you the perfect solution to your chai time snacks cravings… you can enjoy this healthy cookies guilt free. Say no to carb loaded processed snacks… Eat right and stay bright….

[k9wa]

⟁ TOUCH. ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — yearning for sensations long forgotten behind cool steel and blue blood.

⠀ OR

⠀ — you two can get along every once in a while.

⚠︎ mechanic!reader, rev comfort, boothill is a bit of a yearner, can you guys just fucking kiss already. gn reader wc 1.5k.

“you’re less obnoxious than usual,”

your voice snaps boothill out of his daze, eyes blinking quickly as he re-registers your hands in his torso messing with a few wires.

“you sick or something?”

the cyborg keeps his gaze down, watching the careful and precise movements of your hands, actions long practiced and refined. 

it's a little surprising when a flirt or some quick quip doesn't follow your comment— only a small huff of air through his nose as boothill leans further back onto his palms.

“nah. i'm fit as a fiddle.”

you spare a glance up, right eyebrow raising just a tad. you don’t believe him, and boothill’s too clocked out to notice your distrust.

though you don’t comment– not until the cavity in his stomach is closed up and all his pieces are back in place.

“that should be better,” you wipe the oil off your hands with an old rag hung from one of your belt loops. “how's that scratch healing up?”

boothill again is pulled from his thoughts by your voice, cybernetic hand subconsciously moving to the mostly scabbed and healed over cut on his jaw— the one you patched and gave him an earful for getting in the first place.

“‘s fine,” he runs his fingers over it as if he could feel the roughened skin. they linger over it just a little too long. “barely there anymore. we all done here?”

it's another comment that leaves you with a weird feeling in your gut— he always hung around, dragged out his repairs longer than they needed to take just to spend more time with you. to mess with you, ruffle your feathers while you pretend you don’t know exactly what he’s doing. it's almost disappointing when he expresses his eagerness to leave. not to mention the lack of his usual vibrato or high energy is a tad unsettling.

he tries to sit up from your work bench, but your palm against his chest pushes him carefully back down and keeps him seated. unbeknownst to you, boothill actively chokes down the simultaneous urges to swat your hand away and clutch onto it. did you know how insane your touch that he couldn’t even feel was driving him? did you know that he’d had his teeth grit since stepping one boot into your shop— the shop that he was only able to enter after giving himself a firm slap to his own forehead?

“what's with you?”

you folded your arms over your chest, eyes focussed calculatingly on the cowboy sitting in front of you. though the brim of his hat covers a good portion of his face, and his head doesn’t seem too keen on lifting. 

“what’s that s’posed t’mean?'' boothill doesn’t bother looking up, as expected.

“you look like a kicked dog.” 

boothill scoffs. “ain’t no sugar coatin’ it with you, is there?” 

“cmon,” you sigh, unfolding your arms to place them down on your table, caging either side of the cyborg’s hips. you give a slight lean forward as you put your weight down on them, and once more boothill’s caught between pushing you away or grabbing your shirt and pulling you closer. 

“talk to me, it’s weird seeing you all quiet.”

“ain’t you the one always tellin’ me to shut up?”

“boothill.”

he tilted his head back with a quiet groan, steel thumb rubbing at one of his temples. it's embarrassing, really, what he’s so hung up about. 

his thoughts drift to your hands on either side of him, that although calloused and stained with oil you’ll never be able to quite fully get out from under your fingernails, are still soft. human. not exactly delicate but not…clunky. or heavy.

he’s never really been one for vulnerability. where would he even begin? he’d hardened his interior to match the abrupt loss of his fleshy exterior. he didn’t feel he had a choice to do otherwise. now he’s left with the hyper awareness of just how bulky and inelegant he is— it’s not who he was before, not what he had. it never will be. 

“…just missin’ the way i used to be, i s’pose. i dunno.”

his eyes still dodge yours, pulling the brim of his hat down to block out your face from his peripherals. 

“just…forgettin’ things. how things feel against my fingers ‘n whatnot.” his words are half murmured, hesitant behind his lips.

if boothill had a stomach, it would have tightened and churned at your lack of a response. now he just feels silly, like you’re about to laugh in his face for the little bit of himself he’d just bared to you.

“not that i’m moppin’ about it or nothin’,” he quickly tries to save with a clear of his throat. “i mean, this ol’ hunk’a metal come in handy now and again, don’t it?” boothill straightens up a little bit, voice evening out. 

he’s still waiting for you to say something. literally anything— to give a half assed acknowledgement and let him go or call him an idiot. he eagerly awaits for you to just get either over with.

but rather than option a, or b, or even c to z, what he receives is your hand on his cheek, guiding his head to look back forward at you. 

…huh?

he feels frozen. your hand is so warm, it’s making his head feel fuzzy. it’s different than the occasional touch to his face from you, one to tilt his head up so you can see his neck or a lift of his eyelid to check on his eye.

it stays in place, long enough to make the area of his face you’re touching begin to warm as well. his eyes are locked with yours now, slightly wide and filled with uncertainty. he silently prays his cheeks aren’t blue.

“you can still feel here, right?” your question is so…innocent. it’s as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. your thumb slowly smoothing over his cheekbone is enough to make him feel utterly weak.

“…yeah. yeah, i can.”

he’s daring enough to put his hand overtop yours, keeping it in place. you smile slightly at that— not a teasing grin like usual, but a genuine one.

“you know,” your other hand brushes his bangs out of his eyes. boothill’s never been touched like this before, like he’s fragile.

“you don’t have to hide stuff from me.” right now, your voice is the most comforting thing he’s ever heard. he's blanking– you’re the only thing filling his senses. the smell of oil mixed with your body wash, the way you look at him as you speak, every part of it is so…grounding. it’s almost foreign, a sensation long forgotten behind layers of metal and code.

“i ain’t hiding things from ya, sugar plum.”

“quit it with that, okay?” 

your brows furrow lightly as you lean dangerously close. boothill can feel your slow, calm breaths fanning his upper lip. he resists the urge to gulp.

“i know you. probably more than you think.” you tilt the brim of his hat up gently, keeping it out of the way. it’s true, no one’s ever seen him in the ways that you have. comfortable, a little smitten, on and off malfunctioning.

“i don’t like seeing you upset,” boothill’s circuits stutter once your forehead rested against his. “so just talk to me next time.”

it’s not a request, but it’s not a demand either. perhaps “invitation” is a more fitting term.

“can we…” boothill clears his throat softly again, fingers lightly tightening around your hand. “do you reckon we can stay like this for a lil’ while then?” 

you nod.

“okay.”

you pull him a little closer, enough to place your cheek against his and give it a gentle nuzzle.

you’re warm. you’re soft. you smell good, feel good. he doesn’t want to let go.

one of boothill's arms snakes carefully around your waist, and slowly your chest is pulled flush against his while you’re stood between his legs. his face finds itself comfortably hidden in the crook of your neck, all while your thumb gently tracing the shell of his ear is enough to have him purring like a cat.

“you feel nice,” boothill says quietly, voice a bit rough. the rasp is endearing as always. “real nice, sugar.”

neither of you are sure how long you stay there, nor does boothill know when his hand began clutching your shirt as if he was afraid you would pull away. but the gentle whirl and hum of his internals are oddly soothing– like a built in white noise machine that puts your mind at ease.

boothill could have sat there forever, really. nudging his nose against the smooth skin of your neck and gripping tightly at what little physical feeling he had left.

you silently ponder kissing his temple, boothill silently ponders kissing your cheek. neither of you act.

“thank ya.” boothill's voice is nothing above a whisper. “been a while since…y’know.” 

you nod slowly, fingers idly twirling a piece of hair that hangs over his ear.

“you’re sweet when you wanna be.” you can’t help but tease him just a little.

“cmon now, i’m always sweet for you, ain’t i?” and he can’t help but throw a flirt back.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Creature Comforts (Raphael x F!Tav)

Tav is a working girl at Sharess' Caress, and she's Raphael's favourite.

Soft smut, bath sex, mild body worship, mild touch starved Raphael, soft(ish) Raphael, mentions of prostitution

AO3

-

“The devil’s asking after you,” said Mamzell, holding a metal bucket of ice and a bottle of wine for Tav to take with a sly smile. “Paid in advance.”

“Of course he is,” sighed Tav fondly. Naturally the wine was the most expensive Sharess’ Caress had to offer. Rich and dry with a lingering, burning aftertaste; just like the devil who drank it. Tav climbed the stairs to his room was the usual warm anticipation bubbling in her belly that she’d come to expect by now when she met with him. Bad business, she knew, to be fond of a client – especially one so dangerous. Yet every time he asked for her, she went to him. It would come back to bite her one day, but Tav had always been a glutton for punishment.

Pushing open the door, his room smelled like the rose petals scattered on the ground, the heat of hot bath oils, and the ever-present undercurrent of smoke and fire he could never quite hide. Tav quietly shut the door behind her. He was in the bath, with the water up to his chest as he rested his arms on the bath’s rim, his head lolled back. He was facing away from her as she entered, but she didn’t doubt he was aware of her presence.

“You started without me,” she said, feigning disappointment, though she didn’t have to try very hard. Watching him carefully undress was always an enjoyable experience. Especially when he stared her down the entire time.

“The water was simply too tempting to resist,” he hummed. His delicious voice held the thickness of indulgence that deepened its cadence and set her blood alight beneath her skin. “Fret not, darling. I haven’t done your job for you.”

Tav laughed, well aware there was no chance of that happening. He was here to be pampered. She approached the bath, setting down the ice bucket. When the bottle clinked, the devil rolled his head so he could look at her. His cheek pressed against his bicep; a stray lock of hair escaped his otherwise immaculate coif. His big brown doe eyes were as arresting as ever, even with dark circles beneath them.

“Hello, sweetling,” he said.

“Hello, Raphael,” she murmured in reply. She cupped his face, stroked his refined jaw. He leaned in to her touch. He seemed more tired than usual. Tav wondered what kinds of infernal intricacies were going on to drain him so, then decided she’d rather not know. He wouldn’t tell her even if she asked. She wouldn’t ask; an unspoken rule. “Drink?”

“Please.”

Her fingertips dragged slowly across his chin as she walked away to fetch glasses. Raphael popped the cork and poured them both a generous amount of burgundy coloured, fruity scented wine. He took a deep draught. Tav watched the bob of his throat when he swallowed, supping on small sips herself. She liked the wine, but too much made her head spin. She needed to keep it clear around this devil. She put her glass down and sat on the bath’s rim, close to him. The silence was comfortable, charged. She knew this dance; they had performed it many times already. The water was incredibly hot when she dipped one hand in, to the point of discomfort, but that was alright. A puddle in her palm, she coasted it over one broad shoulder of his, liking the way droplets scattered down his tawny skin. She kneaded his muscle, memorising his soft exhale.

“Shall I wash your hair first?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Raphael handed her a small clay jug. She filled it with steaming murky water. “Close your eyes,” she said, waiting until he obeyed her, keeping his drink at safe distance, then she gently tipped the water over his head and neck. His hair darkened as it saturated; quite a fetching look, Tav thought. “Soap?”

“Mm.” He offered a block of dark red and umber that smelled of cherries and pepper. He always brought his own things from the Hells, something Tav privately found amusing. They were clearly pricey, better than even the highest quality luxuries that Sharess’ Caress offered. Of course Raphael would settle for no less, her Hell prince. The soap slid like liquid silk in Tav’s hands as she wet it and began to lather up the devil’s soft hair. He felt good beneath her hands; good to spoil. She coaxed tension from his temples, gently scratching her nails across his scalp in the way she knew he liked.

“Long day?” She asked.

“More prudent to say long month, I think,” he responded lazily.

“Ah. That’s a sentiment I definitely understand.” Using the jug again, she rinsed the soap from his head. “I finished the book you lent me, by the way.”

“What did you think of it? I’m curious. What’s the phrase? ‘Copper for your thoughts’?”

“A whole copper? Generous.” Raphael’s chuckle was barely more than a rumble. Tav nudged him to lean forward so she could start soaping his neck and shoulder blades. She was not ignorant to the way he pressed into her touch. “I liked the story, but I found it hard to feel sympathetic for the Count of Darkness the way the author probably wanted me to.”

The devil perked up, as he tended to do when discussions turned philosophical. “And why is that, little dove?”

Tav’s slippery fingertips trailed into the divots of his spine. “Difficult to root for someone who kidnaps and seduces a married woman because he feels like he’s entitled to her, with his only excuse being she may or may not be a reincarnation of his dead wife. No matter how charming he is.”

Raphael’s response was impassioned. “Is he not entitled to her? What of his passion, his love? His broken, lonely heart? Centuries of isolation he endured, his beloved so viciously stolen away from him, only to discover he may have a second chance at life with her again…why should he not reach for her?”

“She was already married, for a start. She loved her husband.”

The devil tutted. “None could know her or love her as the Count could.”

“Of course you’d say that. Poor Mr Harker would probably beg to differ.” Tav was more amused than anything. Raphael was responding exactly as she knew he would. “Well…I suppose the Count did have a nice castle. Real estate is in shambles these days, so Mina could have definitely done worse in that regard.”

“How pragmatic of you,” Raphael drawled. Tav laughed as she finished washing his back.

“I’m a simple whore in a chaotic world. It’s taught me to be pragmatic.” She stood and observed him for a moment. Wet, glistening tawny skin, honey-brown eyes smouldering, sharp jaw set. He was devastatingly beautiful.

“Have you no care for romance, Tav?” He asked, voice airy despite the weight behind his question. He drained the last of his wine and set his glass aside.

“I think you and I hold different definitions of romance.” They weren’t talking about the book anymore. She decided the conversation was over. “Shall I wash your front now?”

He didn’t answer for several seconds, expression unreadable. Tav wondered if he’d press the issue or not; he didn’t, perhaps too content or lethargic. “That depends. Are you going to join me?”

“Hm…” Tav pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. “I’m not sure. The perfume I’m wearing right now is quite expensive, you know.”

“I’ll buy you a dozen bottles, sweet dove,” he promised.

She had no doubt he meant it. She smiled, sliding out of her clothes. They fell into a pile at her feet. Raphael devoured her with his gaze as she stepped into the bath, opposite him. His eyes consumed one length of long, lithe leg at a time as she made herself comfortable, stretching out so her legs were either side of his hips, the soles of her feet resting against porcelain. The places where their bodies touched burned hotter than the water. He watched her in loaded silence as she settled, staring blatantly at the dusky peaks of her nipples and the pretty warm flush travelling across her cheeks, neck and chest. No one made her feel wanted quite like him.

Soap in hand again, she pulled his left leg across her lap, rubbing lather into his knee, shin, and the heavy defined muscle of his calf. Had she not felt the way he relaxed like melted butter, his deep sigh would have given away how much he was enjoying her touch. When he bent that leg so she could rub his ankle and foot, she caught a glimpse of another growing sign of his enjoyment amidst the sloshing soapy water. The sound he made when she pushed her thumbs into the arch of his foot made butterflies burst to life in her belly. He didn’t look away from her the entire time, eyes half-lidded. He wanted her to know what she was doing to him. What he was allowing her to do.

His other leg received the same treatment, but instead of moving to his gloriously thick thighs, Tav splayed her hands out on Raphael’s belly and slowly slid them up, ghosting the grooves of his abs and the trail of hair that disappeared below the water, then his sternum, resting her fingertips there for a second to feel the strong thumping of his heart. She circled his pecs; flicked her thumbs over his pebbled nipples. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Ah…”

Unable to resist, Tav swallowed his gentle vocalisation with a kiss. He tasted of wine and smoke. His thin yet plush lips were like hot velvet against her mouth as he fiercely returned her kiss, coaxing her tongue out so he could suck on it. This time it was she who groaned, fingers curled, nails digging small crescents into his flesh. He brought her closer with one hand between her shoulder blades, his other squeezing her hip tight enough that she was sure she’d have finger-shaped bruises. Water spilled over the bath’s lip and onto the floor; the only sound besides the sticky smacks of their sloppy kisses. Like that, Tav could feel the entirety of his hard cock pressed between their stomachs. She wriggled a soapy hand down and squeezed it, tugging from root to tip. She bit at his mouth, greedily feasting on his gasp.

“Are you ready for me?” She whispered into the humid cavern behind his teeth.

“Always,” he growled.

With practised familiarity, Tav guided the head of Raphael’s drooling cock to her folds, swollen and slick despite the water. She teased them both, just a little, grinding against him enough so that his glans bumped her clit and felt the enticing heat of her entrance. She liked to see his pupils expand and eclipse the sweet brown of his irises like black holes before she sank onto him completely. He rested his forehead on hers as she worked him inside, grunting when he was fully sheathed. She gripped his biceps, he her hips, and they stared at each other; then she moved. Rolling her hips slow, lazy, enjoying the feeling of fullness and the way his cock nudged sensitive spots along her inner walls. His rutting was equally lazy, and it didn’t take long for them to find an easy rhythm. Her breasts slid over his soap-slick chest, jolting her entire body each time her nipples brushed his. It was good.

Raphael licked the seam of her lips, dotted scorching kisses across her chin, her jaw, the spot where her pulse thundered. She tilted her head and sighed when he sucked a mark there, that precious vulnerable place. “Be mine, Tav,” he purred darkly into her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. “I would give you everything you wanted, every claim and castle, any luxury in life you desired. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”

“You can’t tempt me with contracts, Raphael,” sighed Tav, breathless as the pace and strength of his thrusts increased, changed to fit his mood. They were making a mess of the bath water now. “You know that.”

“Then what can I tempt you with?” An edge of frustration lingered in his voice. It showed itself in the rough way he swiped at her clit with two fingers, making her cry out and arch her back.

“Something…mmm, something you’re not ready to offer me.” In retaliation she leaned forward and bit his nipple. The overwhelming floral musk of soap in her mouth was worth the spitting curse he released, worth the flash of claws she felt digging into her flesh.

“Stubborn creature. You have yet to tell me what that means,” snarled her devil, fighting to regain control.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Their coupling grew frantic, a chasing of release, using each other’s bodies to find it. With Raphael ruthlessly fingering the stretch of her cunt around his cock, prodding the wired nub of her clit when he felt the urge, it was Tav who reached her climax first. The throbbing coil in her womb unfurled; she let her head fall back, mouth open, groaning out his name. He watched her ride her orgasm intently, the harsh clench of his teeth and wild desperation in his eyes giving away that he’d been waiting for her. For this. The fluttering squeeze of her walls milking his cock and the almost-reverent way her lips shaped the syllables of his name were too much; Raphael emptied deep inside her in spurts, jerky thrusts, and a strangled staccato groan. His rapture made for a truly handsome picture Faerun’s greatest artists could only dream of painting.

They basked in the afterglow for a while. Tav washed the lingering suds from him; he watched as she washed herself, cleaned his seed from her sex, his only contribution to the endeavour a hungry, possessive look of debauched satisfaction. She would smell like cherries for hours. Eventually he climbed out of the bath as Tav reclined, finally letting herself to finish her drink. He dried and dressed himself meticulously, off to go where devils went and do what devils did. Prim and orderly about his appearance despite the messy way he’d fucked her not long ago. Aloof and back to business despite the way he’d been so pliable beneath her hands. Tav was very fond of him indeed.

“Do you want your book back?” She asked him when he’d tightened his cufflinks.

“Keep it,” he replied, more refreshed and put together than he’d been when she arrived. “Perhaps one day you will read it again and your viewpoint will change.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed.

Raphael smiled at her then, just a small quirk of his lips, ambition and determination sparkling in his pretty, disarming eyes. She may have won this battle, but the war was far from over. “Ta-ta for now, little dove.”

He clicked his fingers and disappeared in a burst of fire and infernal magic. He’d be back soon; despite everything, Tav looked forward to it.

[theswordwrites]

PART FOUR (the alchemy)

Juniper and Aemond go on their first date.

tw: literally nothing. low-key fluff.

word count: 3.1k

Ten minutes into dinner, Juniper Greyson had a realization.

She hadn’t been on a date in a long time.

Like, years.

Oliver had been… fine, she supposed. But their “dates” always involved the greasy pizza place across from his apartment— where the lighting was too bright, and the chairs wobbled like sad, forgotten carnival rides. He never picked her up, never held the door open, and he certainly never did anything that made her feel like someone worth dressing up for.

Aemond, on the other hand, had done all of that.

(Okay, technically, his driver had picked her up—but he’d been polite, and the car smelled like leather and money, which, honestly, counted.)

Now she was sitting across from Aemond Targaryen—a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a luxury magazine spread. Charcoal-gray pants, crisp white button-up rolled to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms catching her eye for far too long. She kept sneaking glances, hoping he wouldn’t notice. His hair was just a little messy, like he’d spent the whole day running his fingers through it, and the sight made her throat go dry.

He was handsome—obnoxiously so. That was her first mistake. Realizing it.

Her second mistake was lingering on the thought. She cleared her throat, as if that would somehow chase it away.

The restaurant was elegant, bathed in warm, golden light that softened every shadow, casting a refined glow over everything. Chandeliers hung like delicate sculptures, and each table held a single votive candle, its flame flickering quietly in the subdued atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of truffle oil and roasted garlic, while the gentle murmur of conversation and faint strains of jazz from a live pianist drifted through the room.

Aemond, meanwhile, seemed perfectly at ease, thumbing through the menu like this was just another night.

Without looking up, he broke the silence. “So… what do people usually talk about on these things? The weather?”

June let out an involuntary huff of a laugh, the sound louder than she intended.

“Oh, yeah. Small talk is definitely still in fashion,” she quipped, a bit too fast. Her voice pitched higher than usual, and she cringed internally.

June felt her palms sweating, fingers fiddling with the napkin in her lap. As Aemond smoothly gestured for the waiter, ordering in a low, confident voice, she realized she hadn’t even looked at the menu. When it was her turn to speak, she felt the pressure of his eyes on her.

"Uh, I’ll have the… pasta?" she stammered, feeling ridiculous the second the words left her mouth. The waiter didn’t even blink, but Aemond smiled—soft, like he didn’t mind her awkwardness.

"The one the chef took off the menu last month, with the capers.” He said to the waiter, leaning back in his chair, perfectly at ease. "It’s one of their best dishes."

June gave a small nod, her heart hammering as she forced a smile. Of course he was calm. And of course he knew the chef. He probably did this kind of thing all the time. Meanwhile, she was struggling to keep her voice steady, hoping her nerves didn’t show as much as she feared.

Aemond’s lips twitched, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Tell me about yourself.”

He glanced up from his glass, peering through his lashes in a way that felt unfairly intentional. June’s heart did a weird little stutter, and she scrambled to find something—anything—normal to say.

“Uh…” She stalled, feeling her brain short-circuit. “I grew up in the North. I moved here for school and, um, after I finished my first degree, I decided to stay for my PhD.”

She finished with a tight smile, hoping that would be enough. Aemond gave her a look—just the slightest raise of his brow. Not unkind, but definitely a little amused. It was the kind of look that said, That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?

June’s cheeks burned under his gaze.

“Okay, uh… I have a cat,” she added, grasping at straws. “Her name’s Florence, but I just call her Flo. She’s orange. And, um… perfect.” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Perfect? Why had she said perfect?

Aemond nodded, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Cats usually are.”

June bit the inside of her cheek, desperate to keep herself from spiraling further into awkwardness.

“What about your family?” Aemond asked, smoothly shifting the conversation.

“Oh.” She exhaled, grateful for the change of topic, but the question wasn’t exactly easy to answer.

“It’s just my mom now. She’s great. A little… overbearing sometimes.” She tried to keep her tone light, but the word now hung in the air between them, too heavy to ignore.

Aemond’s gaze flickered with something—understanding, maybe—but he didn’t press.

“Do you get to see her often?”

“Often enough,” June replied, forcing a smile. “I try to go home every few months. And she visits in the summer. It’s… nice.”

Her hands twisted in her lap beneath the table and her fingers fiddling with the hem of her napkin, mustering the courage to ask, “What about your family?

Aemond’s lips curled slightly. “Why don’t you tell me more about your mother first?”

June blinked, thrown off for a second. “I already told you about her.”

He raised a brow. “I want details. What does she think about Flo?”

June laughed, feeling the tension dissolve just a little. “Oh, she adores Flo. Sometimes I think she likes her more than me. She sends me little care packages with toys and treats. I think she really just wants grandchildren.”

She didn’t miss the way he steered the conversation back to her, avoiding the topic of his family completely. But, he hadn’t pressed her earlier, so she wouldn’t either.

Another waiter came with wine, pouring it into both of their cups quietly. June noticed how the young man's eyes darted between Aemond and her—surely recognizing them.

After the waiter turned away, Aemond continued with his questions. “Is that something you want? Kids?”

The question hit her like a stray gust of wind—unexpected and weirdly personal. She almost choked on her sip but managed to swallow it down, wide-eyed.

“Uh…” She wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin, stalling for time. “That’s… kind of a big question for a first date.

Aemond gave a small, nonchalant shrug, as if he’d asked her opinion on the weather. “Maybe. But it’s a valid one.”

“Sure,” she said, dragging the word out. “But most people ease into that kind of thing.”

He leaned back, his expression calm but curious, like he wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.

June fumbled for a response. “I mean, I think I do. Someday. Probably. If the circumstances were right.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened slightly, though his tone remained measured. “And what would ‘right circumstances’ look like?”

Oh my god, June thought, why is this happening right now?

“I don’t know.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous puff of air. “A stable job. A house that isn’t held together by duct tape. A partner who can… I don’t know, keep a plant alive?”

Aemond smirked at that. “So, not high standards then.”

June rolled her eyes. “Hey, keeping a plant alive is harder than it sounds.”

Aemond gave a soft hum, as if he were filing that away for later. “I’ve always thought about it,” he said, his voice quieter this time.

June blinked. “Really?”

He nodded, swirling his glass of wine absently. “Not often. But… it crosses my mind every now and then.”

She tilted her head. “What, like having a bunch of kids running around?”

Aemond’s lips quirked in a dry half-smile. “Not exactly. Just one, maybe two.” He paused, glancing down at his wine for a beat before adding, “I’d want to do it better than it was done for me.”

That last sentence hung in the air between them, heavier than June had expected. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry,” Aemond muttered, shifting in his seat as if he’d given away more than he intended. “That was probably… too much.”

“No, it’s okay.” June shook her head quickly. “I get it. Kind of.” She fiddled with the stem of her glass. “I think that’s why it’s hard for me to picture it. I mean… what if you screw it up, right?”

Aemond met her gaze again, and there was a flicker of understanding in his eye—something unspoken but mutual.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but thoughtful, almost heavy with things neither of them knew how to say.

Then, because June could never leave well enough alone, she blurted, “So, what’s your hypothetical kid’s name?”

Aemond gave her a look—half amused, half exasperated. “Seriously?”

She grinned, the awkwardness lifting just slightly. “Yeah. You brought it up, so now you have to answer.”

Aemond exhaled a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “I have no idea.”

“C’mon,” June pressed. “First thing that comes to mind.”

“…Eleanor,” he said dryly.

June softened at that. “That’s quite endearing.”

Aemond rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “What about you, then? What would your kid be named?”

“Hmm.” She tapped her chin theatrically. “I think… something ridiculous. Like Augustus. Or Clementine.”

Aemond shook his head, lips curving into a reluctant smile. “Your poor child.”

June grinned, feeling a little more at ease now, like they’d stumbled into something unexpectedly comfortable.

“Hey,” she said playfully. “If I ever have a Clementine, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

Aemond raised his glass in a mock toast. “I’ll hold you to that.”

June could have sighed in relief. This wasn’t as difficult as she had anticipated. She didn’t have to fake her smiles or laughter—those were genuine. The banter was enjoyable, even fun.

Their food arrived soon after, and they continued their conversation. The dish Aemond had chosen for her was perfect, and she could see the smug satisfaction on his face. She lit up at his questions about her dissertation, eagerly explaining the intricacies of the depiction of women in early Westerosi art. They discovered they shared a taste for classic literature and poetry. She opted not to mention her recent binge on fantasy novels so steamy they made her sweat.

Aemond laughed softly at her jokes, and though it was a quiet sound, it felt like a victory.

The evening slipped away faster than June expected. She watched as Aemond finished signing the check with a flourish, his movements practiced and efficient, and she tried to ignore the strange twist in her stomach at the sight.

As they left the restaurant, Aemond smoothly extended his arm to her. It was such a gentlemanly gesture, so perfectly fitting for someone like him. June hesitated, staring at his arm as if it were an alien concept, before awkwardly looping hers through it.

He glanced down at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "You don’t have to act like I’m a stranger," he teased lightly. "I don’t bite."

She laughed nervously, her pulse racing at the warmth of his arm beneath her hand. "Sorry, I just… I’m not used to this," she admitted.

"Used to what?" he asked, his voice smooth and calm.

“Being wined and dined.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice so no one else would hear.

He simply smiled down at her. “Well, you might have to get used to those things. In fact, I believe you are contractually obligated.”

She just hummed as he opened the car door for her, before sliding in after her.

The ride home was quiet at first. The sleek, black leather interior of the car smelled faintly of cedar and the warm, lingering cologne Aemond wore, which only served to keep her uncomfortably aware of his presence beside her. Her fingers toyed with her purse strap, the weight of the night pressing down on her in a way she couldn’t quite shake.

She quietly asked, “Do you think there are any cameras?”

Aemond shook his head, “No. Criston and his team came through before we did. And there won’t be any photos from the restaurant either. Maybe a gossip blog will pick up a tip, but no photo evidence.”

“This was more for us—” He said, gazing down at her, “To get to know one another. Get more comfortable. I don’t want to throw you in the deep end.”

The words and give you another chance to pull out of the deal were left unsaid.

June found it endearing and it wasn’t the first time that night. She glanced out the window, the city lights casting a soft, golden glow over the street as they drove through the heart of the city. Even through the glass, she could feel the faint thrum of the music spilling out from late-night bars and restaurants, laughter and voices blending into an ambient hum. But here, in the car, everything was calm and still, broken only by the quiet hum of the engine.

As if sensing her thoughts, Aemond finally spoke. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

The question was simple enough, but there was something in his tone—a genuine curiosity that made her feel oddly vulnerable. She could feel his gaze on her, gentle yet piercing, and she forced herself to look over at him.

“Yes,” she replied softly, offering him a small, honest smile. “It was… different.”

He tilted his head, an amused glint in his eye. “Different, how?”

She laughed, feeling the tension in her chest ease just a little. “In a good way. Just… different from what I’m used to.”

Aemond gave a slight nod, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of satisfaction in his expression, as if her answer meant more to him than he let on. The shadows of the city lights flickered across his face, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw and the way his eyes seemed to soften when he looked at her.

It felt like they were the only two people in the world, isolated in this small bubble of warmth and quiet, shielded from the bustling world outside. The quiet intimacy of it made her heart race in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

“What did you expect?” he asked, his voice low and steady, almost a whisper in the dim light.

She shrugged, glancing down at her hands. “I don’t know. It’s… hard to explain.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I guess I didn’t expect it to feel… easy.”

He raised an eyebrow, an unreadable expression on his face. “Easy?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like… even though we don’t know each other that well, it wasn’t… uncomfortable.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, and she quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush of color creeping up her neck. But Aemond, of course, noticed everything.

“It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable,” he murmured, his tone soft, almost reassuring. There was a gentleness in his voice that caught her off guard, like he was offering her something—some small reassurance she hadn’t even realized she wanted.

They fell into silence again, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between them. Outside, the cityscape shifted, the bright lights of downtown fading into quieter, dimly-lit streets as they neared her apartment. She watched the familiar landmarks pass by, feeling the weight of reality settle back in as the night slowly came to an end. But she couldn’t shake the strange, lingering warmth that had taken root in her chest, an unfamiliar sensation that left her feeling both vulnerable and strangely alive.

As the car pulled to a stop, June found herself glancing at her building, the familiar red door standing out against the muted colors of the night. Aemond was already out of the car, and when he opened her door, offering his hand, she felt that warm jolt of surprise again, like the evening itself had granted her permission to lean just a bit closer.

“Let me walk you up,” he said, his voice soft but steady. There was something almost old-fashioned in the gesture, and she smiled, falling into step beside him as they walked toward her door. They moved slowly, their steps echoing in the quiet street. The air between them was charged with an unspoken tension, each step bringing them closer to a goodbye she suddenly felt reluctant to say. She’d barely registered that they were standing in front of her door before she looked up at him, taking in the sharp lines of his face, softened by the night.

“Would you…” she hesitated, hearing the words form before she could reconsider. “Would you like to come in? I could introduce you to Flo. She’s probably waiting by the door.”

For a brief second, Aemond didn’t answer, and she could almost imagine a yes, imagine what it would feel like to sit across from him, this time in her space. But then his gaze softened, and he shook his head, just slightly.

“I’d like that,” he said, his tone quiet, almost regretful. “But I should head back to the office. Still have work waiting for me.”

It was the kind of gentle refusal that reminded her, as gently as possible, of what this really was. The warmth she’d felt was quickly cooling, and she managed a nod, forcing her disappointment to stay below the surface.

“Oh—of course,” she said, straightening. “Maybe next time.” She offered a small, polite smile, the one she used when she needed to keep her guard up, and he gave a faint nod, his face unreadable once more. She half-expected him to just turn and go, but he surprised her, leaning in slightly, his voice lowering.

“Goodnight, June,” he said, his words lingering in the stillness between them. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a final, fleeting glance, he turned, his footsteps quiet as he disappeared back into the night. She watched him go, feeling the chill of the evening creep in around her, the gentle reminder of boundaries settling back into place. As she turned her key in the lock, stepping into her empty apartment, she could feel herself slipping back into the reality of the arrangement.

The evening felt like a dream that had ended too soon, leaving her alone with the quiet and the small ache of what was almost—almost—something more.

this is an insanely late update, midterms kicked my ass! i had fun playing with their conversation and I hope you had fun reading! lmk your thoughts!

[chicademartinica]

2023 Favorites

Come play favorites with me.

Favorite Korean BL: The Eighth Sense. / Runner up: Our dating Sim

Favorite Thai BL: Never let me go / Runner up: Moonlight Chicken

Favorite Japanese BL: The end of the world with you / Runner up: My Beautiful man eternal (Show +Movie)

Favorite Taiwanese BL: Kiseki Dear to me / Runner up: Stay by my side.

Best director(s): Inu Baek & Werner du Plessis for The Eighth Sense (Korea and Germany) EX AEQUO with Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaothong (Thailand) for FIVE SHOWS (BL or not everything Jojo does is QUEER): Never let me go / Never let me go Our Skyy 2/ The Warp effect / Only Friends / Dirty Laundry. To be noted and congratulated: OG Thai BL director Tee Sintanaparadee with his best work to date: I feel you linger in the air.

Best cinematography: Never let me go by Rat Rungruang (Thailand) / Runner Up: Moonlight Chicken ALSO by Rat Rungruang EX AEQUO Never let me go Our skyy 2 ALSO by Rat Rungruang.

Best use of color theory : The eighth sense GREEN.

Best score /musical moment (instrumental): “Save you from the Death” by Ruiqi Zhao. This song is so good it was used in two shows, airing at the same time, produced by the same man, on the same channel. We first hear it in Never let me go (episode 05) as Palm ravenously kisses Nueng (for a long long long long time) for the first time. AND THEN it’s back in Moonlight Chicken (episode 01) as Uncle Jim and Wen do everything but kiss under the moonlight. Aof and Jojo really said we both using it to be desperate and erotic and what of it. 10/10 no notes.

Runner up: “Refined enlightenment” by Howard Harper-Barnes in I feel you linger in the air (episode 07): The soaring strings that perfectly follows Jom’s arousal as he masturbates to the memory of the most erotic oil massage ever. Refined INDEED. // “Bleeding Signs” by Chris Shards in Never let me go (episode 05): Dark and moody indie rock rumbles as Nueng reels from his brutal outing, homophobia, and Ben’s betrayal before collapsing in Palm’s arms in the yellow of Bangkok polluted twilight.

Best score/ musical moment (with lyrics): “I can’t lose it all” by Ben Goldstein in The Eight Sense (episode 06) The singer belting “I’m losing my mind (…) I can’t lose it all” are the only words we hear for the last minutes of a great, hazy fugue of an episode. (Last spoken line: “To give you trauma” before the lovers start kissing.) Jae Won and Ji Hyun make love and when the song stops, I was left with greys waves, panic, and a burning “JAE WON WERE YOU OR WERE YOU NOT HIGH OUT OF YOUR MIND FOR ALL OF THIS? Was that song a call back to “Where is my mind” of Fight Club fame just to play with our nerves? Good times. //Runner up: “Monsoons” by Johannes Bornlöf and Le June in Never let me go. This song plays for two minutes straight as Palm sways drunkenly in his lover’s arms as he reels from his mother’s violent death. “Monsoon rain and chest pains��, blurry lens and sloppy, tear-soaked kissing. Peak lakorn.

Favorite couple: PalmNueng in Never let me go. // Runner up : KingUea in Bed Friend.

Favorite chemistry: PondPhuwin as Palmnueng, GMMtv true hidden gem. Runner up: Nat Chen and Jiang Dian as Chen Yi and Ai Di in Kiseki Dear to me.

Favorite individual performance: Film Thanapat in Laws of Attraction// Runner up: Mix Sahaphap in Moonlight Chicken.

Most beloved actor this year: Mark Pakin.

Favorite Ensemble: Moonlight Chicken // Runner up: The Warp Effect

Favorite mother figure: Grandma in Laws of Attraction. Amazing actress, well written (Grieving!) character. // Runner up: Ji Hyun’s boss in The eighth sense.

Favorite friendship: Pat and Chot in Step by Step! Pat’s whole friend group! // Runner up: Alex and Army in The Warp Effect.

Favorite siblings: The Gu siblings in Stay by my side. // Jeng and Jaab in Step by Step.

My hatred for you knows no bounds: Uea’s "mother" in Bed Friend. // Runner up: Phupha in The Promise EX AEQUO Tae Hyung in The eighth sense.

Most beloved character: Palm! My sweet boy! // Runner up: King! MY King!

Favorite “I love you”: “I LOVE YOU UNCLE JIM” Li Ming in Moonlight Chicken.

Favorite proposal: Charn being a lawyer and a marriage equality advocate while Tinn is just trying to marry the nutjob in Laws of Attraction.

Favorite wedding: TinnCharn and the baby’s doll on the chair (Tears!). Runner up: Palmnueng marrying by proxy while being guests at a gay wedding.

The category is “Boohoo snot bubble I’m dazed and crying”: The eighth Sense. Runner up: Moonlight Chicken.

The category is “I’ve watched this scene without breathing.”: Ji Hyun’s reaching for Jae Won’s hand in The eighth sense ep 09 // Runner up: Ki Tae confronting Lee Wan in episode 04 of Our dating Sim.

The category is “My cheeks are hurting I’m smiling so much”: Our dating Sim // Runner up: Love tractor.

Punchline: “Have you been well? Without me?”  Ki Tae to Lee Wan Our dating Sim / “I miss you so much. I miss you so much” Fan Ze Rui to Bai Zong Yi Kiseki Dear to me.

Funny punchline: “You only love me when you do me.” Cher to Boss in A boss and a babe. // Runner up: “We can continue as a throuple” Rando in Laws of attraction.

Erotic honorific: “Call me Hia Win. Hia Win.” In Between Us. // “Can you tell Nong Cher what your present is Phi Gun” or “Phi Jeng” for “The kinkification of Phi” in A boss and a Babe and Step by Step.

The category is ‘What is this?!! A 90’s Yaoi Manga ?!!”: Kim Jong Chan’s (Korean actor Kwon Hyuk) Yaoi hands holding his lover’s whole head in his palm as they kiss in The New employee. // Runner up: Cho Jun’s ( Ki Hyun Woo) in a an all-black suit in Jun & Jun.

The category is "Whew why was this so hot ?" : Charn obscenely rubbing Tinn's arm up and down while Tinn is trying to punch him in Laws of Attraction// Runner up : Jae Won manhandling Baby Mouse by the straps of his backpack in The eighth sense.

Best smile: First Kanaphan as Sand in Only Friends // Nat Chen and his dimple as Chen Yi in Kiseki Dear to me.

Unfathomable eyes: Pond Naravit and his under-eye mole in Never let me go EX AEQUO Net Siraphop in Bed Friend.

Favorite dream sequence: Baby Ye Chan’s first erotic dream in Love Tractor.

Favorite kiss (on the lips): Palmnueng last kiss on the beach in episode 12 of NLMG. It’s soft and super erotic, there’s a bit of tongue, a bit of teeth and they are both shivering like crazy. Pondphuwin killed it and the magnificent Thai scenery finished it// Runner up: Bostonnick against the wall at the back of the store. Surprisingly Nick was the aggressor but was still moaning loud as hell. Neomark punched me in the face with their chemistry and hunger. Give them a good show and let them kiss. A lot.

Favorite kiss (not on the lips). Nueng burying his face between Palm’s shoulder blades to kiss his tattoo in the finale of NLMG. // Ze Rui rubbing and kissing Zong Yi’s beauty mark every chance he gets in Kiseki dear to me.

Favorite sniff kiss (special Thailand): Uncle Jim inhaling Wen’s face in Moonlight Chicken. Possibly the most erotic sniff kiss I have ever seen, shout out to Earth. // Runner up: Winteam having a HEAVY ratio of sniff kisses in their make-outs in Between Us.

Favorite neck kiss: Bed Friend’s King is the BL best neck kisser, licker, biter ever. Net being shorter than James made this even more enjoyable. // Ray being obsessed with Sand’s neck in Only Friends.

Favorite make out: JengPat car make out in Step by Step. Whew. // Runner up: WinTeam locker room make out. Whew.

Favorite erotic moment: Win seducing Team and making sure he is sober, single, and horny while fogging up the room in Between Us. // Runner up: I feel you linger in the air oil massage than orgasm to the memories of said oil massage.

Favorite O scene: Songkhram and Ai making love in Destiny Seeker. Who knew 69ing could be so cute? // Runner up: Ritsu and Masumi, I quote “going at it like monkeys” in The end of the world with you. Ritsu was a fuckboy from space but also like, a Japanese sex God.

Favorite cuddles: Winteam. In bed. Every single scene in Between Us // King clinging to Uea, dead asleep in the crook of his neck in Bed Friend.

Favorite hug: Li Ming hugging a sobbing Heart in Moonlight Chicken.

Favorite tears: WinTeam devastating sobs after Win saves his boo from drowning.

Favorite lift off: Ai Di spending one third of the show being carried by Chen Yi. // Runner up: Joke carrying Zo like he is not also 6ft1 in Hidden Agenda.

Favorite food : Love Mate's orgasmic post sex burgers and fries in episode 04.

That's my too long list of 2023 favorites. Hope you enjoy. @absolutebl and all of you booes are welcome to use the categories you like, please tag me in your lists. To a very bisexual (AND VAMPIRIC) 2024 together.

Chica.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The rapid industrialization of Europe in the nineteenth century demanded millions of liters of refined palm oil annually, either on its own or in combination with other oils, as a means to cool and maintain industrial apparatuses in factories, public works, railways and more. It is likely not an exaggeration to say that the literal and figurative wheels of empire, from locomotives to steam engines, were greased with refined West African palm oil.

Max Haiven, Palm Oil: The Grease of Empire

[blushcoloreddreams]

American pancakes

Serves 2 people, 10 min to make. Maybe I’ll share Carlos Sainz’s souffle pancakes sometime.

Ingredients

1/2 cup of milk

1 cup of flour

1 tablespoon of vegetal oil

1 egg

1 tablespoon of refined sugar

1 pinch of salt

1 table spoon of baking powder

Butter to grease the pan

How to:

In a bow mid all the ingredients, except for the baking powder, with the help of a fouet (wire whisk), a mixer or a blender

Add the baking powder when the dough is homogenous and mix well. The dough will have an aerated aspect after a few seconds

Preheat a non stick pan in medium heat. When it’s hot, grease it with the butter with a cooking brush or a paper towel

Pour a bit of the dough in the hot and greased frying pan until it forms a circle. You can do whatever size you like but I’d suggest the size of the palm of your hand

When little air bubbles start to appear in the pancakes surface, flip the pancake. The pancake is ready when it’s golden on the other side

Repeat the process with the whole dough lowering the fire if you notice it’s too hot

Serve them hot with maple syrup, jam, honey fruits or whatever your creativity points to

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Palm oil by-product transforms into PVC thermal stabilizer with possibilities for recycling and sustainability

The quest for sustainable alternatives to conventional materials has led to the exploration of waste by-products as potential resources. In a novel approach, researchers from the Institut Teknologi Bandung have developed a method to synthesize an organotin mercaptide-based thermal stabilizer from palm fatty acid distillate (PFAD), a by-product of the palm oil refining industry. This development not only offers a solution to the disposal of PFAD but also presents a competitive alternative to existing PVC stabilizers. The findings are published in the Journal of Bioresources and Bioproducts. The construction and plastics industries frequently rely on polyvinyl chloride (PVC) for its durability and versatility. However, the thermal stability of PVC is a significant concern, necessitating the use of stabilizers to prevent degradation during processing.

Read more.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Yale Environment 360:

Indonesia, the world’s fourth most populous country with the third largest surviving area of tropical forests, has a new strongman president. Environmentalists are concerned. They fear that, after a decade during which the country’s deforestation rates have fallen by almost two-thirds, Prabowo Subianto will unleash a new ecological orgy, cutting, burning, and despoiling some of the world’s greatest rainforests.

The 72-year-old former military man, who first rose to prominence under the country’s late-20th-century dictator President Suharto, was elected by a wide margin in February and will take office in October. He has promised to double GDP growth through expanded mining and industrial development.

Indonesia is already in the midst of a mining boom. It produces half the world’s nickel, a metal vital for the batteries used in electric vehicles. The International Energy Agency says that Indonesia could up its share of total supply, while demand for the metal expected to double by 2040.

Nickel will help other countries reduce their greenhouse gas emissions. But it does the opposite in Indonesia, where most of the metal is mined from beneath rainforests and is refined using energy from coal-burning power stations. On the Indonesian island of Sulawesi, over a third of the forests now lie within nickel mining concession areas, according to a study published this month by Mighty Earth, a global advocacy group which works in the country.

Now Prabowo wants to expand mining and refining further. “By processing our natural resources domestically, I’m optimistic that we would be able to witness double-digit economic growth,” he said shortly before the election.

But at what price for the rainforests? Some environmentalists fear the worst, as mines and refineries proliferate. But there are optimists who argue that the Western investors and manufacturers that Prabowo will need to fulfil his economic promises could leverage more sustainable development. “Nickel mining is a dirty industry,” says Amanda Hurowitz, who runs Mighty Earth’s program for protecting forests from commodity trades, “but with the political will, Indonesia can clean up the nickel supply chain.”

Under departing president Joko Widodo, Indonesia has often been seen as an environmental success story. Jokowi, as the one-time slum-dwelling carpenter is widely known, slowed forest loss dramatically by banning rapacious palm-oil and pulp companies from receiving new licenses for forest clearance. He also looked to restore nature and suppress forest fires by rewetting millions of acres of peat swamps that had been drained for failed agricultural and forestry projects.

[darkmaga-returns]

Plus, solutions to avoid one of the most devastating ingredients in our food supply

Samantha Gluck

Oct 24, 2024

Editor’s Note: DS and I have been very busy readying our home to go on the market March 1st. This and related activities are the reason for my protracted absence. I’m back now! 

I know you know that various factions of “the powers that be” are trying to kill you. The injections, forever wars, illegal immigration, etc., but they’re also using food as part of their depopulation agenda.

Let’s Talk About Seed Oils

Every time you go grocery shopping, you’re probably buying several items which contain seed oils, also known as vegetable oils. Ultra-processed and even simple processed foods often contain seed oils, most of which cause inflammation and, ultimately, disease in the body. Funny thing, these oils didn’t exist 100 years ago.

Common seed and vegetable oils:

Soy & Soybean

Canola

Cottonseed

Safflower

Sunflower

Grapeseed

Palm & Palm Kernel

Rice Bran

Corn

Peanut

The process used to extract oil from the seeds and refine it causes the problem. This process uses chemical additives to bleach, deodorize, enhance taste, color, and increase shelf life of the oil. The harsh refining process removes the healthy antioxidants naturally present in the oil. 

Most seed oils are high in omega-6 fatty acids, which greatly increase inflammation in the body. Exceptions are coconut oil, avocado oil, and olive oil, which are typically processed without chemicals and with cold press techniques. In addiction to inflammation, consuming the other oils also leads to oxidative stress, endothelial dysfunction, and atherosclerosis (BMJ article).

[uncleclam]

Henry Letham as an artist / thoughts

Sfw

Henry is a quiet person, but his artwork says otherwise if you stare really closely. He doesn’t explain his works, he hates them, not because they are not perfect enough but resembles with himself too much. More likely, he sees the good in every art piece come from others, but he won’t say it out loud nor elaborate his thoughts.

He likes drawing alone, to avoid unnecessary attention mostly. Not that his art is vulnerable, but not to be distracted, to smoke peacefully while painting. He can only draw with the sound of wind gently blowing the curtains, or any rainy days, that will boost his mood.

Henry has a very simple pencil case which stores most of the stationary he need for scribble, or mark down the words from voices in his head.

He prefers charcoal pencil and the 3B one, they are easier to create darker tones, more sensitive with pressure. Two erasers, one in pencil form, for refining details, one in chunky, round form, which used to be a tiny rubber block, now covered with black smudges.

The side of his right palm is alway darkened with graphite, just like most of the artists. He likes using his fingers to soften the edges on his artwork, blurring the lines like they are fading memories.

Working with colors, he prefers oil paint on canvas or pastel on paper. Blending colors is the part he enjoyed the most, it doesn’t require much thinking, really. His color tone—some may say boring—is often simple, too simple, if you are being critical, but Henry loves the pure emotions that colors carried. Shades of blues can always be seen in his work, steel blue to teal, always in high hue to bring contrast with the grey or warmer yellow at the corner.

(Feel free to share your thoughts too!)

[revelisms]

Excerpt: Business & Brunch

Silco and Sevika debrief before a meeting. A Councilor arrives.

Taken from 'webs of blood and gold,' a story on Sevika, Silco and Mel securing a political alliance (with some inklings of Melvika on the horizon). This takes place loosely in my scraps and doves series, somewhere between 'heron blue' and 'fire and thread'. Full story on AO3. CW: Themes around war, political disempowerment and social unrest; mentions of dysfunctional parental relationships; gaslighting, emotional manipulation.

"She's late."

Idly, a gloved hand slithers between wool dark as raven's blood: twists free a glint of silver. "Only by some minutes."

"She has us drag our asses up here on a damn Sunday, and she's late."

The tick-ticking of his pocketwatch clips shut. "Plotting your vengeance, already?"

Sevika scoffs. Slumping into the booth's cushions, she cuts her eyes across the room. A gloss of checkerboard tile reflects countless-faced prisms and too-clean light, sugardust and fluffed eggs sweetening the air: a burst of warmth diced by raucous chatter. To her left, a window bleeds a nasty draft.

Winter had always been a damned nuisance—but never worse than here. For all the ails that came with the Gray, there was one thing it was good for: this season never dared to cross their streets. A thick cloak of fog trapped the heat far into the bowels of their city, each lane waxed with a layer of mugginess and grime, enough that the touch of dry air on one's skin felt all but alien.

This many levels above the Fissures, the chill was unbearable. Worse yet, it'd laid a personal vendetta against the arm that blue-headed hellspawn had augmented for her; she'd had an ache in her shoulder all morning, clear to each copper-tamped fingernail.

Sevika rolls out her wrist, tries to force heat back into her wired veins. "I'll be plotting something, if the royal bitch isn't prancing out of her carriage by the half-bell."

Canted across from her, Silco's mouth twitches. "Then let's hope, for her sake, that she does."

"Meaning?"

He smooths the crease of his pocket with a bird-boned hand. Behind his silhouette, past the warbled glass, a myriad of streetlamps bloom in a frosted haze. "Any butcher worth their salt knows which cuts to age," he rumbles, dryly, "and which to roast on a spit."

Metal fingers lay a sharp triplet over the varnish. "Didn't know we were working the meat business, now."

Sevika loosens her palm, crooks a quick-footed server over for a coffee. "Two," Silco amends. The boy takes off.

The noise of the café sits nauseatingly between them. For a breath, she wrangles with it, watches him think, click-ticking the gilded points of her claws upon the table. His stare sits on them like a blade playing pinfinger.

The air of it all is too still—too misfitted.

She needs a drink. Needs the burn of a cigar in her lungs. Needs to sever this frostbitten stump from her shoulder. Needs him to say something.

Mismatched eyes, cold as the arctic and burning as scorched earth, flit back to her.

"A delicacy," he prowls, elbow sliding in an easy hush over the leather at his back, "requires a refined taste." He flicks his wrist, studying the dome of glass that crests past their shoulders. "I expect you may lack the proper palate."

Something unpleasant knots up in Sevika's mouth. "Topside refineries weren't made for us," she gruffs: challenging, denying.

They were the supply. Never the intended demand.

Silently, the tapetum of his dead iris leers at her. Lingers. "Weren't they?"

Two coffees clack to the table. Sevika takes the distraction like the needed blessing it is. She knocks two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of cream in hers, stirring it until the metal sings. Silco takes his black as the Pilt.

It's not the motor oil either of them prefer—but enough to make the morning bearable.

She shakes out her spoon, slowly, and keeps her eyes averted. He's left the conversation dangling on a hook, as always: waiting to see what else will make her bite. It's the guise she expects from him, most days. A black-finned beast dormant beneath the waves, stirring the shallows for unsuspecting prey.

At some point, though, that bathypelagic creature will slip back into its cave—traded for something more human; more imperfect.

This Councilor of theirs isn't here to play bait. They've fished the deal from her, already.

Still.

For now, they have a moment of respite: to plot, poison, provoke. Two predators yet to file their fangs, trapped between the walls of this marbled palace.

Her fingers itch for a smoke. She puffs out a phantom drag. "They won't give us a seat."

"We don't need one."

"Bold assumption."

Silco hums. "They've hedged their bets on those, for generations."

She sits on that, for a moment. Squeezes her cup by the rim, sliding the porcelain aside, to nest her arms in the space it clears. "New blood ain't gonna change that," she hushes. "They've tried to change it, before. They'll try to, again—and they'll fail."

"As the barons had?"

(Before he'd come along, like some spirit lifted from the gallows; strung every family on a tether and bought their loyalty in blood, upheaving all that the Undercity used to be—all the complacency that had shackled them, for decades—with profits no Sump-child could have dreamed, in a lifetime.)

Sevika drags her thumb against her knuckle. "Topside's a different beast."

The scarred line of his mouth ticks at one side. "Same animal," he gravels. His eyes shift. "Different cage."

Instinctively, she turns to follow the line of his sight. It doesn't take long to find their target.

Weaving through the maze of the café floor are two women, heels clacking off the tile, dressed head to oil-slick boot for a political runway. Unhurriedly, the spear of his stare unwavering, Silco reclines in his seat. Sevika feels his leg shift beneath the table: a sharp knee nudging into her own. She straightens, on command.

"Lesson one," he leaves her with. His hand turns to pick at one of his gloves, tugged clean finger by finger. The leather lazes to the varnish.

It's not long before their company has found their place at his table—their office for the day; one that, for every inch of public air and Topside frivolity surrounding it, stands eerily enough as his—and, by then, the second glove has been stripped: bared fingers laced, laid patiently upon the table's edge.

"Councilor Medarda," Silco greets.

The woman who stands front-and-center before them wears a flourish of navy and moonstone, vibrant as an ocean tide tressed over one's skin. She carries the taste of winter with her. It lays an odd contrast with the fragrance that ebbs sweetly off her wrists: the cool bite of melted frost encasing a desert flower.

Sevika takes her in, with a fine-toothed comb.

Not a strand of hair stands out of place, an elegant knot of gold-stamped locs. A brush of gloss shimmers at her eyes. Her lips are kissed with wine. She watches them form around her words, giving breath to a voice incense-smoked and ambered.

"Goodness, you've drinks already." Medarda lifts a thin hand, swiftly shedding her gloves. "I do apologize—I've left you waiting. A meeting ran over, I'm afraid."

Silco gives a thin smile. "No doubt the Council is in the throws of annual planning."

Medarda clicks through the clasps of her coat. "Horrendous time of the year," she sighs. "But, alas—it's a necessary one."

"I can empathize." He gestures to the empty chairs at their table: a command wrapped in silk-lined civility. "Please—take a seat."

Even in so few words, he has the attention of their Councilor wrapped around his finger—and the companion who gawks, blatantly, at her side.

Had she been spoon-fed a life of luxury, rather than survival; raised to view every interaction as a marker of prestige and self-deliverance, Sevika may have empathized with this skittish thing's wandering eyes.

The lot of them always had a morbid curiosity, when pulled to his table. Most up here knew him only as the hell-eyed Industrialist of the Underground; his heels were lined with a shitstain of Piltie superstition so thick it rivaled the cult fervidity that shadowed his every turn downtown.

Some let that curiosity get the best of them: flight instincts wrestled down to bask in a strange, offputting charm: like this dollfaced stranger, tressed in velvet and green, does now—and were Sevika anything like those foolish, naïve things, too brazen for their own good, she, too, may have eyed the directive sweep of his palm with more intrigue; may have found the serration of his demand a dark sort of thrill, rather than a dismissal tightly-leashed; may have took more time than she needed to watch him unlace the scarf at his neck, with a loose-wristed flippancy that did nothing to match the smoked cavern of his voice.

But Sevika's nothing of the sort—not for such surface-level contradictions as those.

(There were far more than that, beneath it all.)

Instead, she claims a front-row seat for the show, pitting a scoff under her tongue when the lift of his frigid stare sends the woman's own stumbling to her boots.

The fates must be on their side, today. The little sparrow gets stuck with the vacancy to his left.

"My assistant," Mel says, settling at Sevika's right. "Elora."

Late, Sevika thinks, and with unannounced guests.

Beneath the table, the point of a boot bruises into her calf, snapping any choice words at the neck.

"Sevika," Silco trades back—part introduction, part steel-lined warning. "My right-hand."

Medarda smiles, faultless a shield as any. "A pleasure." Her coat finds a home on an ornate carving, her gloves pocketed within it. Even reduced to her thinnest layers, she is no less armored. Blue cascades here, too: a seamless flow from the high neck of her collar down to the loop of fabric that cinches her sleeves at her fingers. On one, her familial crest glints in the light: a guiding star locked in a golden brace.

Sevika takes note of the ring—and of the silence.

The board has been set.

At one head of the table, a demon reigns in a fog of shadow: the streets at his back, winter's light a harsh carving through every edge: slicked hair, sloped shoulders, eyes glowing like sea-ice and cinder. At the other, a queen lays a barrier to the bustle of her people, the clamor of her commerce, bathed in crystalline light.

Their server returns, carefully polite in his Councilwoman's presence.

The game begins.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

In the United States, 1 out of 37 children are now born with Autism. In the last 20 years the rate of babies born with birth defects has doubled. Gender Dysphoria rates are staggering.

Factory farmed livestock are given synthetic estrogens in their feed such as "Revular", used to make the animals gain weight faster, these synthetic estrogens are ending up in the waterways, the animal waste is also used as fertilizer along with human biowaste from treatment plants for food crops. The majority of contamination areas are in agricultural regions which correlate with the biggest rise in birth defects, Autism and Gender Dysphoria.

The "corn" that is added to animal feed is the byproduct from ethanol refining and corn oil refining and the Rapeseed from canola oil refining, same with soy, all of which are also GMO'S. Seed oils, corn, canola, vegetable and (palm oil), are extracted using the endocrine disruptor and toxin, Hexane. PFAS, Phthalates (Phthalates are a group of chemicals used to make plastics more durable. They are often called plasticizers) are now found in nearly all human blood and breast milk.

Endocrine Disrupting chemicals have been associated with Gender Dysphoria and Autism, Autoimmune diseases, low testosterone, birth defects, and low fertility rates. There are also related to mental health conditions.

All of the synthetic petroleum based bioengineered chemicals are toxins that are recycled by the liver back into the blood stream and stored in the bones. These are forever chemicals that are accumulative in both human and animal bodies. These chemicals are in municipal tap water, meat, dairy and every processed food.

Flouride as hydrofluorosilic and hexafluorosilic acid, which are byproducts from the phosphate fertilizer and aluminum manufacturing industries are added to treat municipal water as cheap substitutes for sodium flouride, and are also used in the manufacturing of pesticides and fungicides. 90% of chronic illness and all autoimmune diseases are related to toxic processed chemical laden food.

[imsociallyanxiousgetoverit]

List of all SDV and SDV:E (Stardew Valley: Expanded) Giftable Items

Horseradish

Daffodil

Leek

Dandelion

Parsnip

Cave Carrot

Coconut

Cactus

Banana

Sap

Large Egg

Egg

Milk

Large Milk

Green Bean

Cauliflower

Potato

Garlic

Kale

Rhubarb

Melon

Tomato

Morsel

Blueberry

Fiddlehead Fern

Hot Pepper

Wheat

Radish

Red Cabbage

Starfruit

Corn

Rice

Eggplant

Artichoke

Pumpkin

Bokchoy

Yam

Chanterelle

Cranberry

Holly

Beets

Ostrich Egg

Salmonberry

Amouranth

Pale Ale

Hops

Void Egg

Mayonnaise

Duck Mayonnaise

Void Mayonnaise

Clay

Copper Bar

Silver Bar

Gold Bar

Iridium Bar

Refined Quartz

Honey

Pickles

Jam

Beer

Wine

Juice

Clam

Poppy

Copper Ore

Silver Ore

Coal

Gold Ore

Iridium Ore

Wood

Stone

Nautilus Shell

Coral

Summer Shell

Spice Berry

Sea Urchin

Grape

Spring Onion

Strawberry

Sweet Pea

Common Mushroom

Wild Plum

Hazelnut

Blackberry

Winter Root

Crystal Fruit

Snow Yam

Sweet Gem Berry

Crocus

Red Mushroom

Sunflower

Purple Mushroom

Cheese

Goat Cheese

Cloth

Truffle

Truffle Oil

Coffee Bean

Goat Milk

Large Goat Milk

Wool

Duck Egg

Duck Feather

Caviar

Lucky Rabbit’s Foot

Aged Roe

Ancient Fruit

Mead

Tulip

Summer Spangle

Fairy Rose

Blue Jazz

Apple

Green Tea

Apricot

Orange

Peach

Pomegranate

Cherry

Bug Meat

Hardwood

Maple Syrup

Oak Resin

Pine Tar

Slime

Bat Wing

Rusty Blade

Swirl Stone

Solar Essence

Void Essence

Void Pebble

Void Shard

Void Soul

Fiber

Battery

Dinosaur Mayonnaise

Roe

Squid Ink

Tea Leaves

Ginger

Taro Root

Pineapple

Mango

Cinder Shard

Magma Cap

Bone Fragment

Radioactive Ore

Radioactive Bar

Ancient Fiber

Bearberry

Conch

Dried Sand Dollar

Ferngill Primrose

Golden Ocean Flower

Goldenrod

Green Mushroom

Four-Leaf Clover

Monster Fruit

Monster Mushroom

Mushroom Colony

Poison Mushroom

Red Baneberry

Salal Berry

Slime Berry

Rafflesia

Sports Drink

Stamina Capsule

Thistle

Void Root

Winter Star Ross

Dewdrop Berry

Aged Blue Moon Wine

Blue Moon Wine

Aegis Elixir

Armor Elixir

Barbarian Elixir

Gravity Elixir

Haste Exilir

Hero Elixir

Lightning Elixir

Pufferfish

Anchovy

Tuna

Sardine

Bream

Largemouth Bass

Smallmouth Bass

Rainbow Trout

Salmon

Walleye

Perch

Carp

Catfish

Pike

Sunfish

Red Snapper

Herring

Eel

Octopus

Red Mullet

Squid

Seaweed

Green Algae

Seacucumber

Super Seacucumber

Ghost Carp

White Algae

Stone Fish

Crimsonfish

Angler

Icepip

Lava Eel

Legend

Sandfish

Scorpion Carp

Flounder

Midnight Carp

Mutant Carp

Sturgeon

Tiger Trout

Bullhead

Tilapia

Chub

Dorado

Albacore

Shad

Lingcod

Halibut

Lobster

Crayfish

Crab

Cockle

Mussel

Shrimp

Snail

Periwinkle

Oyster

Woodskip

Glacierfish

Void Salmon

Slimejack

Midnight Squid

Spookfish

Blobfish

Stingray

Lionfish

Blue Discus

Baby Lunaloo

Bonefish

Bull Trout

Butterfish

Clownfish

Daggerfish

Dulse Seaweed

Frog

Gemfish

Goldenfish

Grass Carp

King Salmon

Kittyfish

Lunaloo

Meteor Carp

Minnow

Puppyfish

Radioactive Bass

Razor Trout

Seahorse

Sea Sponge

Shiny Lunaloo

Snatcher Worm

Starfish

Torpedo Trout

Undeadfish

Void Eel

Water Grub

Dwarf Scroll 1

Dwarf Scroll 2

Dwarf Scroll 3

Dwarf Scroll 4

Chipped Amphora

Arrowhead

Ancient Doll

Elvish Jewelry

Chewing Stick

Ornamental Fan

Dinosaur Egg

Rare Disc

Ancient Sword

Rusty Spoon

Rusty Spur

Rusty Cog

Chicken Statue

Ancient Seed

Prehistoric Tool

Dried Starfish

Anchor

Glass Shards

Bone Flute

Prehistoric Handaxe

Dwarvish Helm

Dwarf Gadget

Ancient Drum

Golden Mask

Golden Relic

Strange Doll

Strange Doll

Prehistoric Scapula

Prehistoric Tibia

Prehistoric Skull

Skeletal Hand

Prehistoric Rib

Prehistoric Vertebrae

Skeletal Tail

Nautilus Shell

Amphibian Fossil

Palm Fossil

Trilobite

Emerald

Aquamarine

Ruby

Amethyst

Topaz

Jade

Diamond

Prismatic Shard

Quartz

Fire Quartz

Frozen Tear

Earth Crystal

Alamite

Bixite

Baryite

Aerinite

Calcite

Dolomite

Esperite

Fluorapatite

Geminite

Helvite

Jamborite

Jagoite

Kyanite

Lunarite

Malachite

Nepunite

Lemon Stone

Nekoite

Orpiment

Petrified Slime

Thunder Egg

Pyrite

Ocean Stone

Ghost Crystal

Tiger’s Eye

Jasper

Opal

Fire Opal

Celestine

Marble

Sandstone

Granite

Basalt

Limestone

Soapstone

Hematite

Mudstone

Obsidian

Slate

Fairy Stone

Star Shards

Fried Egg

Omelet

Salad

Cheese Cauliflower

Baked Fish

Parsnip Soup

Vegetable Medley

Complete Breakfast

Fried Calimari

Strange Bun

Lucky Lunch

Fried Mushrooms

Pizza

Bean Hotpot

Glazed Yams

Carp Surprise

Hashbrowns

Pancakes

Salmon Dinner

Fish Taco

Crispy Bass

Pepper Poppers

Bread

Tom Kha Soup

Trout Soup

Chocolate Cake

Pink Cake

Rhubarb Pie

Cookies

Spaghetti

Spicy Eel

Sashimi

Maki Roll

Tortilla

Red Plate

Eggplant Parmesan

Rice Pudding

Ice Cream

Bluberry Tart

Autumn’s Bounty

Pumpkin Soup

Super Meal

Cranberry Sauce

Stuffing

Farmer’s Lunch

Survival Burger

Dish’O’The Sea

Miner’s Treat

Roots Platter

Triple Shot Espresso

Seafoam Pudding

Algae Soup

Pale Broth

Plum Pudding

Artichoke Dip

Stir Fry

Roasted Hazelnuts

Pumpkin Pie

Radish Salad

Fruit Salad

Blackberry Cobbler

Cranberry Candy

Bruschetta

Coleslaw

Fiddlehead Risotto

Poppyseed Muffin

Chowder

Fish Stew

Escargot

Lobster Bisque

Maple Bar

Crab Cakes

Shrimp Cocktail

Ginger Ale

Banana Pudding

Mango Sticky Rice

Poi

Tropical Curry

Squid Ink Ravioli

Mushroom Berry Rice

Big Bark Burger

Flower Cookie

Frog Legs

Glazed Butterfish

Grampleton Orange Chicken

Mixed Berry Pie

Baked Berry Oatmeal

Void Delight

Void Salmon Sushi

[stcrmborne]

Starter for @fantasystrangers Possessing all the grace of someone born with an ingrained connection with nature, Rhaya picked her way through the forest undergrowth efficiently and with little disturbance. Clutched at her side with the strap slung around her shoulder was a small satchel which carried precious cargo: the collected leaves of a rare plant which would prove vital in refining down to make some of the oils required for a reincarnation spell. After teleporting out here, it had taken nearly a full day to even locate where the plant grew. Then from there she had burned another two hours making sure she spread out the clipping and didn't get too heavy-handed, which ensured the plants would continue to thrive for another harvest if needed later down the line. With a small noise of effort she clambered and scraped her way through a dense thicket of bushes and burst out onto the shoulder of a small dirt-packed road – Only to abruptly realize she was not out here alone. A sharp yelp was chased by an expletive and she reeled backwards, the bushes nearly swallowing her up again. With one hand twisted around the strap of the bag and the other raised with a splayed palm, she stared wide-eyed across at the other figure. “Sorry–! Sorry, I didn’t realize there was someone else on the path. I’m not being weird, I promise.” That was exactly what some weirdo being a creep in the forest would say. Damn.