#palm vegetable oil

[indopalmoil]

Myths and Facts about Palm Cooking Oil | GAPKI Discover the facts about palm cooking oil with GAPKI. Learn its benefits, nutritional value, and the differences between palm and other cooking oils. For more details on the Indonesian Palm Oil Association (GAPKI), visit https://gapki.id/en and explore how palm oil supports sustainable growth today!

[savourygoodness]

Parsnips and mushroom nut roast tart

[t4t-pathogen]

While this guy is indeed a weirdo, hydrogenated seed oils are actually really bad for you. The way they’re processed turns them into trans fats, which are a very unhealthy kind of fat and don’t really benefit you. Unhydrogenated seed oils like sunflower oil can be dangerous when consumed too much and can produce toxins when fried. Canola, sunflower, palm, and soybean oil are horrible for the environment, they it involves burning down large patches of native trees for farms that also quickly get burnt down. It’s like scorched earth farming. Just stick with olive oil and avocado oil, honestly.

carnivore diets have to be a deliberate ploy to keep crypto investors in a constant state of hypoglucosis and the brain fog that can cause in some. like classic cult tactic but make them believe it’s good for them

[edibleolis10]

Refined Soybean Oil - Best Soybean Oil Online Refined Soybean Oil contains Vitamin E for no heart disease. Buy the Best Soybean Oil Online Pure Soybean Oil - Best Soybean Oil #OilPrices #edibleoilprices #soyabeanoil #oilsupply #cookingoil #vegetableoils

[galleryofart]

A Linen Market with A Linen-Stall and Vegetable Seller in the West Indies

Artist: Agostino Brunias (Italian, 1728 - 1796)

Date: circa 1780

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Yale Center for British Arts, New Haven, Connecticut

Description

The linen market was a recurrent theme in the work of Agostino Brunias. His detailed depictions of the buying and selling of textiles - manufactured in Britain for export to the Caribbean and Africa - were calculated to showcase the prosperity of the British-controlled West Indies, and the islands’ active participation in the global economy. Brunias’s careful depictions of dress and race draw on ethnological images of racial and social types that were popular in Europe, yet his figures also function as individuals actively negotiating their place in society. Dress was a form of resistance and means of establishing autonomy among the enslaved and free people of color. Brunias gave particular prominence to figures of women, who are often well dressed and stride confidently through the bustling chaos of the public marketplaces. Surrounded by people and goods from around the world, they are an integral part of the islands’ commercial and social life.

[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.

[salvia-plathitudes]

One of thee most contentious points about Poison Ivy: Vegetarian, vegan, omnivore, or carnivore? And then of course you have to throw in the factor of her being green to photosynthesize in an overwhelming number of depictions.

my poison ivy hot take is i actually think she would be some kind of weird carnivore rather than a vegetarian because she only really has empathy for plants and sees most people as meat sacks i think she would eat people is what i'm saying. what i'm saying is they should let her do sexy lesbian cannibalism

[dgspeaks]

Spice Up Your Veggie Game with Panko Breaded Cauliflower

Looking to add some flair to your veggie routine? Look no further than my spicy panko breaded cauliflower! This delicious dish is perfect as an afternoon snack or a side dish at dinner. Plus, it’s a fantastic way to pack more veggies onto your plate in the most flavorful way possible. The Perfect Snack for Any Occasion Crunchy, spicy, and oh-so-tasty, my panko breaded cauliflower will make you…

[guillaumesavoye]

Recipe for Egg Net Pad Thai with Soft Shell Crab

Made with Lime, Cilantro, Dried Chili Flakes, Eggs, Vegetable Oil, Rice Noodles, Roasted Peanuts, Tamarind Concentrate, Green Onions, Palm Sugar, Fish Sauce, Garlic, Shallots. This Egg Net Pad Thai with Soft Shell Crab is a delicious and original take on a traditional Thai dish. The soft shell crab adds a seafood flavor and texture, and the egg net makes a lovely presentation.

[nycfoodieblog]

Watch "The most requested Vegetable Soup video! How I make SPINACH SOUP with FISH & SHRIMPS | SO DELICIOUS" on YouTube

[raekensluver]

hearts aligned

description: you and your roommate spencer reid have always been there for each other. one night he comes back from work and you two discover a different side to your dynamic.

pairing: roomate!spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: fluff!! mutual pining, typical criminal minds violence, reader is described as having shoulder length hair

song rec: fallen star by the nbhd- "you're in my dna, i can't keep away no matter how hard i try"

w.c: 2.7k

an: *sob* i love him.

it was a mundane tuesday evening, the kind that bled into the fabric of the week seamlessly. the apartment was quiet, the only sound the hum of the refrigerator echoing through the hallway. the soft glow of the living room lamp cast a warm, buttery light, a stark contrast to the deepening shadows outside the window. you sat cross-legged on the couch, your nose buried in a well-worn paperback, the plot weaving in and out of your consciousness like a gentle stream.

the sound of the lock turning brought your head up with a jolt, the bookmark slipping from your fingers to land silently on the carpet. spencer reid, your roommate, stepped inside, his eyes weary but a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. his gaze swept the room before settling on you, the surprise in his eyes unmistakable. "you're still up," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to shake the very air.

you closed the book with a soft thud and gave him a warm smile. "yeah, i had some trouble sleeping," you admitted, your voice a little hoarse from the quiet of the night. "do you want some tea?" you offered, already pushing to your feet. his nod was all the encouragement you needed as you padded into the kitchen, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of the living room. while the water heated, you listened to the soft thud of his shoes against the floor as he moved towards his room, the jingle of his keys a familiar lullaby.

but when you turned with the steaming mug in hand, you found him hovering in the doorway, watching you. "you know, i can do that," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't mind, really." his voice was gentle, a hint of concern lacing his words.

you paused, the ceramic warm against your palms, and studied him for a moment. his tie was askew, his shirt wrinkled from a long day's work, and his hair, normally a neat cap of chocolate waves, was disheveled. "you've had a long day," you said, your voice firm but kind. "just sit." you gestured to the stool at the kitchen island, the one that faced the stove where you were already setting out ingredients for a simple meal. "i'll make us something light."

he hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "alright," he conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a seat. the fabric of his pants whispered against the leather of the stool as he settled in, his eyes never leaving you as you moved with an easy grace around the kitchen. you could feel the weight of his gaze, a warm presence that made your cheeks flush, and your heart stutter in your chest.

you filled a pan with oil, the faint sizzle as it heated up a comforting sound. "so, how was work today?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the sudden thrum of anticipation that had taken root in your veins.

spencer took a sip of his tea, his eyes thoughtful. "it was… interesting," he said, his gaze drifting over the steaming liquid. "but i'd rather not talk about that right now," he added, his voice a low murmur. "do you mind if we talk about something else?"

you nodded, setting aside the knife you were using to chop vegetables. "of course," you said, wiping your hands on a dishtowel. "what do you want to talk about?"

spencer leaned against the counter, his expression pensive. "tell me about your day," he said, his eyes searching yours. "i feel like i never get to hear about it."

you felt a flutter in your stomach. "it was…normal," you said, the words feeling almost rehearsed. "work, errands, the usual."

spencer's gaze remained steady, a hint of curiosity lighting his eyes. "anything exciting happen?"

you couldn't help but chuckle at his persistence. "well, if you consider accidentally matching my socks with my shirt 'exciting,' then yes, it was quite the thriller," you said with a wry smile.

his eyes lit up with amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching. "i see," he said, his voice teasing. "that does sound like a tale for the ages."

you rolled your eyes playfully, the tension in the room easing a notch. "it was definitely a fashion statement," you quipped, tossing a chopped carrot into the pan. the sizzle filled the air, the scent of garlic and onions mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

spencer set his tea aside, leaning closer. "i'm sure it was," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "but really, anything interesting happen?"

you met his gaze, a sudden realization dawning. "you know what, spencer?" you said, your voice earnest. "right now, this moment, is the most interesting thing that's happened to me all day." his eyes widened slightly, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. "just being here, with you, talking about nothing in particular… it's nice."

his cheeks colored slightly, and he ducked his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "it is," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "i don't get to do this very often."

you cocked your head to the side, studying him. "what do you mean?"

he shrugged, his eyes darting to the floor. "i spend so much time working, or reading, or… just in my own head," he admitted. "i don't get to just sit and talk with people. not like this."

you felt a warmth spread through you, a sense of connection that was more profound than any conversation you'd had with him before. "i'm always here, you know," you said softly, the words slipping out before you could second guess them. "if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to sit with."

his eyes snapped back up to yours, the surprise in them clear. "i know," he said, his voice a little gruff. "i just… i don't want to burden you."

you set the spatula down, moving closer to him. "you're not a burden, spencer," you said, your voice firm. "you're my roommate. and if you ever need anything, i'm here."

his eyes searched yours, the depth of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. "i know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "it's just… i don't want to take advantage."

you reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. "you could never take advantage," you assured him, your thumb stroking a gentle circle against his skin. "we're friends, we're supposed to be here for each other."

spencer's eyes dropped to where your hand rested, the warmth of your touch seeping into his bones. "i know that," he murmured. "but i also know that you have your own life, your own things to deal with."

you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before retreating to the stove, the comforting dance of cooking resuming as if the moment had never happened. "and you're part of my life," you said, your back to him. "so, what's one more thing?"

spencer watched you for a moment, his eyes tracing the curve of your back, the way your hair fell in soft waves down to your shoulders. he took a deep breath, the scent of the simmering food filling his nostrils. "what's your favorite memory?" he asked, his voice a little rough.

you glanced over your shoulder, a smile playing on your lips. "just one?" you teased, turning back to the stove. "that's a tough one." you stirred the contents of the pan, the spices releasing a symphony of aromas into the air. "but if i had to pick, it would be the first time we moved in together."

spencer's eyes lit up, the memory obviously a good one. "that was… chaotic," he said with a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "but also… nice."

you nodded, your smile growing. "i remember being so nervous," you said, the words bringing a warm rush of nostalgia. "i didn't know what to expect, moving in with someone i'd only met only once before."

spencer's gaze grew distant, his mind traveling back to that fateful day. "i was the same," he admitted. "i had this whole speech prepared about how we should respect each other's space and keep things clean, but when i saw you, it all just… disappeared."

you turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. "really?"

he nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "i know it sounds ridiculous, but you just… you made me feel comfortable. like i could be myself around you."

you felt your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "i felt the same way," you admitted, your voice a little shaky. "i remember walking in and seeing all these boxes, and thinking 'what have i gotten myself into?'" you laughed, the sound a little too loud in the quiet kitchen. "but then you looked up from your book, and you just… you were so genuine, so welcoming."

spencer's smile grew, his eyes a soft brown in the muted light. "i've never regretted that decision," he said, his voice earnest. "you make this place feel like home."

you blinked, the sudden weight of his words settling in your stomach. "i'm… i'm happy to hear that," you said, your voice a little breathless.

spencer pushed himself off the stool, the sound of it scraping against the tile floor breaking the silence. he took a step closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating like a small sun. "i mean it," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "you're the best roommate i could ever ask for."

you swallowed hard, the heat of the stove behind you seemingly nothing compared to the warmth in front of you. "thank you," you whispered, your hand still clutching the spatula. "you're pretty great too."

his smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "yeah?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

you nodded, feeling your heart race. "yes," you said, turning back to the stove to give yourself a moment to compose. "you're always there when i need you, and you put up with my terrible cooking."

spencer chuckled, moving closer to peer into the pan. "i wouldn't say it's terrible," he said, his eyes twinkling. "just… adventurous."

you shot him a playful glare, but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "adventurous, huh?" you said, shaking your head. "i'll take that as a compliment."

spencer stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take the spatula from your grip. "i'll help," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. the air between you felt charged, the tension thick and palpable. your heart was racing, each beat echoing in your ears like the tick of a clock counting down to something you hadn't quite anticipated.

you let him take over, watching as his long, slender fingers deftly stirred the sizzling mixture. "i've been meaning to tell you something," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "i know we've been roommates for a while now, but… i've started to realize that i might like you a little more than just a friend."

you froze, the heat from the stove forgotten. your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of uncertainty or jest, but all you found was sincerity. "spencer," you began, but he held up a hand to stop you.

"i know it's weird," he said, his voice rushing out like a river that had been dammed for too long. "and i know we're friends, and roommates, but… i can't ignore it anymore."

you stared at him, your thoughts racing faster than the cars on the street outside. "spencer," you breathed, his name a question, a declaration, a plea all rolled into one. your hand hovered in the space between you, unsure of where to land.

his eyes searched yours, the warmth of his hand as he took the spatula a silent promise. "i know," he continued, his voice a little shaky. "but i can't help it. every time i come home and you're here, waiting for me, it's like… it's like coming home to a piece of sunshine."

you felt your heart stutter in your chest, the words resonating deep within you. "spencer," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips. "i… i feel the same way." the words hung in the air, a soft confession that seemed to illuminate the kitchen with a gentle glow.

his eyes searched yours, a hopeful spark lighting them up. "you do?" he asked, his voice tentative, as if he was afraid to believe.

you nodded, your own heart racing. "yes," you said, your voice clear and firm. "i've liked you for a while now. i just didn't know how to tell you." the admission felt like a weight lifting off your chest, leaving you feeling lighter than air.

spencer's smile grew, a genuine, boyish grin that made your heart flutter. "really?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

you nodded, your cheeks flushing a soft pink. "yes," you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. "i just didn't want to mess things up."

spencer set the spatula down, the clatter against the pan a jolting sound in the quiet kitchen. "you could never mess things up," he said, his voice a soft promise. "not with me."

you took a step closer, the warmth of his body drawing you in like a magnet. "are you sure?" you asked, your voice a little shaky.

he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "i've never been more sure of anything in my life," he said, his voice a low murmur. "you make me feel… alive, in a way i haven't felt in a long time."

you felt your breath catch in your throat, the confession so raw and honest that it was like a punch to the gut. "spencer," you whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips.

his eyes searched yours, the question in them unspoken but clear. "what are we going to do?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

you took a deep breath, the scent of the food on the stove forgotten. "i don't know," you admitted, your voice a little shaky. "i just know that i don't want to ignore this anymore."

spencer reached up, his hand covering yours on his cheek. "neither do i," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. "i don't want to pretend it's not there."

you stepped closer, your hand sliding down to cup his face fully. "then let's not," you said, your voice a little tremulous. "let's see where this goes."

his eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours tentatively. it was a gentle touch, a question that hung in the air between you, waiting for an answer. you responded with a sigh, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body a comforting embrace that seemed to fit you perfectly.

the world outside the kitchen faded away, the only sounds the faint crackle of the stove and the thud of your hearts beating in sync. the kiss grew more urgent, more passionate, as if you were both trying to make up for lost time. your hands tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like silk.

you two broke apart, breathless, your eyes searching each other's for any sign of doubt or regret. but all you saw was a reflection of your own feelings - a wild, unbridled hope that seemed to set the room alight. spencer's chest rose and fell in time with yours, his eyes dark with want.

"i've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

you nodded, your eyes searching his. "i know," you said, your voice just as soft. "me too."

his thumb traced the curve of your lower lip, his gaze never leaving yours. "are we… are we okay?" he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

you nodded, your heart racing. "yes," you breathed, the word a soft promise. "we're more than okay."

[dilfsfordinner]

summary- toji fails to prevent a completely preventable messy incident from occurring, involving his son

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

—————————————————————————

“You wanna do it?” Toji grinned, eyebrows raised as he watched little Megumi tug the ratchet from his grasp, waddling towards the raised car, brave enough to face the thing he’d thought a transformer just months prior.

Your car was in dire need of an oil change and being the caring husband that he was, Toji took up his place as mechanic for the day, his worry about typical shop workers taking advantage of women evident in his pleas for you to just stay home and let him do it.

Megumi also took up his place as the incredibly curious and stubborn one year old, his job apparently to make Toji’s work as hard as humanly possible, every babble or questionable crash tearing Toji’s attention away from the task at hand, which is why he stopped trying, and just let his son indulge in his childlike curiosity.

Of course, you would lose your mind if you knew that your baby was around such a large machine, but Toji knew himself and his capabilities, his reflexes practically inhuman, so he didn’t really mind a little thing running around his feet, as long as he kept an eye out.

“Alright, Megs, give it back,” Toji said gently, hand curling open to reveal a waiting palm, Toji realizing that the young boy did not intend to help him underneath the car. Rather, he’d started a game of tag, little feet scurrying to the other side of the garage, awaiting his father’s move.

Refusing to let a one year old bruise his competitive spirit, Toji used his skills to be across the room in a split second, large hands grabbing Megumi before he could run away, a loud slew of giggles leaving the young boy’s lips, Toji smiling as he held him up with only two hands, walking towards the car like he was holding a feral cat.

Setting the babbling child down, Toji got down on his level, kneeling to tell Megumi to stay back and watch for a second. Pulling himself under the car, Toji then began to use Megumi like a little assistant, asking for tools as needed. “Wrench please” and similar phrases continued for a while before Toji was ready to actually do the task at hand.

Humming in approval at his handiwork, Toji made one final request to the boy sitting beside his feet. “Can you get the jug of oil for me, please?” he asked gently, hands busy holding the port above him closed, his ears catching an excited “yes” and the patter of running feet retreating farther into the garage.

Too preoccupied to notice the unusual length of time it was taking for his son to grab the requested bottle, Toji continued his tinkering before an odd smack sounded, glugging sounds following soon after.

Pausing his movements, Toji craned his neck to try and see his son but before he could even question what had happened, a familiar sniffle sounded at his feet, loud cries flowing from his baby’s mouth.

Sighing, Toji quickly screwed the oil duct tight, and pulled himself from under the car. The sight he emerged to was certainly a surprising one. There, right next to all of his discarded tools, was an oil-covered Megumi, his whole body completely drenched with the thick, black substance.

Letting out a sympathetic laugh and sweet “It’s okay”s, Toji scooped up his crying child, tutting as the dripping kid hid his face in his dad’s chest, trying to hide or remove the liquid, Toji couldn’t tell.

Completely clueless to the situation outside, you were busy in the kitchen, making a snack for your husband as a thank you. For the first time in an hour, familiar footsteps sounded behind you as you chopped up some vegetables, smiling to yourself as you expected two arms to come wrap around you. What you didn’t expect was to hear the wails of your baby boy, and you especially couldn’t have prepared yourself to see him in the flesh.

“What happened,�� you gasped as Toji held the young boy to his chest, a black trail of droplets gathering around his feet as you rushed up to the two of them. Cradling little Megumi’s face, oil coated your hands, anger bubbling inside of you, the only funnel being a slap to your husband’s shoulder, narrowed eyes turning up to meet his own.

“I told you to leave him in here,” you huffed, your angry tone fizzling into sympathetic coos as your attention turned back to your son. “It was an accident,” Toji’s voice had that humorous lilt to it, one that was really good at making your very motherly nature less worrisome. “It happens to workers all the time, he’ll be okay.”

And he was right, because after what seemed to be hours of scrubbing and a whole bottle of dawn dish soap later, the previously oily Megumi was squeaky clean, and incredibly happy as he munched away on his dinner. Toji couldn’t help but retell the story a million times, ignoring your reprimanding words as he fell into a fit of laughter, which eventually had your lips starting to pull into a smile, Megumi none the wiser, his memory about the incident already wiped away.

—————————————————————————

[differentsoulsweets]

Apollo

Απολλων [Apollo] God of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease

Epithets: ⟡ Proopsios [Foreseeing] ⟡ Phoibos [Bright] ⟡ Akestor [Healer] ⟡ Alexikakos [Averter of Evil] ⟡ Theoxenios [ God of Foreigners ] ⟡ Pythios [Slayers of Python] ⟡ Chrusaor [Of Golden Sword] ⟡ Daphnephorios [Bearer of Laurels] ⟡ Loimios [ Deliverer from Pague] ⟡ Moiragetes [Leader of Fate] ⟡ Pagasios [Pagasaean] ⟡ Hekaergos [Far-shooting]

Domains: ⟡ Prophecy & Oracles ⟡ Light ⟡ Music & Arts ⟡ Song & poetry ⟡ Archery ⟡ Healing & medicine ⟡ Plague & Disease ⟡ Protection of the young ⟡ Boys ⟡ Sudden Death ⟡ Knowledge ⟡ Herds & Flocks ⟡ Protector of Fugitives

Devotional acts: ⟡ Donate to medical charities ⟡ Draw or Paint ⟡ Read poetry or listen to music ⟡ Sing or play an instrument ⟡ Go to the library

Associations

Symbol: ⟡ The Lyre ⟡ Silver bow & Arrows ⟡ Dolphins ⟡ Swans ⟡ Crows ⟡ Ravens ⟡ Lions ⟡ Wolves ⟡ Mice ⟡ Griffins ⟡ Hawks ⟡ Snakes ⟡ Laurel wreath ⟡ Fire / flame ⟡ The sun / Light ⟡ Tripod ⟡ Apples

Element: ⟡ Light

Color: ⟡ Orange ; yellow ; Gold ⟡ Red ⟡ Pure white ⟡ Pink ⟡ Purple ⟡ Green ⟡ Blue

Crystals & stones: ⟡ Sunstone ⟡ Amber ⟡ Honey ; Yellow Calcite ⟡ Rutilated ; Clear ; Rose quartz

Fruits,Vegetables,Flowers,Herbs: ⟡ Cypress ⟡ Laurel ⟡ Larkspur ⟡ The-apple-tree ⟡ The palm tree ⟡ Hyacinth

Animal: ✧Swan ⟡ Raven ⟡ Tortoise ⟡ Serpent ⟡ Wolf ⟡ Dolphin ⟡ Mouse

Incense: ✧ Bay ⟡ Frankincense ⟡ Cypress

Food & Drinks: ⟡ Red wine ⟡ Olive oil ⟡ Water ⟡ Fruit ⟡ Honey ⟡ Almonds ⟡ Citruses ⟡ Cinnamon ⟡ Coffee ⟡ Herbal tea with Honey cakes ⟡ Bay leaves ⟡ Anise

Day, Season, Time of Day: ✧ Sunday ⟡ Middsummer ⟡ Midday ⟡ May

Tarot: ✧ The Sun ⟡ The chariot ⟡ Strength ⟡ Temperance

[doctorcrusher]

watching people tie themselves into knots to dunk on vegans is so fucking bleak dude. vegans are bad because they eat soy. on the other hand eating meat from factory farmed animals who were fed on soy is fine. vegans are bad because of problems in large scale agave farming. drinking tequila is fine though. vegans are bad because palm oil is a driver of amazon deforestation and it isn't a pet issue for them. the fact that monoculture crops grown to feed livestock are a larger driver of amazon deforestation is irrelevant. vegans are bad because migrant workers who pick produce are exploited. because vegans are the only people who eat fucking vegetables and exploited migrant labor isn't involved in any part of meat and dairy agriculture. don't you get tired.

[requinoesis]

I know this is a weird question, but what exactly do the bigger sharks eat in your world? I know Rocky is a Great Hammerhead and they (as a species) are known to be other shark eaters, so is there like an alternative meat that they eat, or do they just stick to stingrays and bony fish?

That's a curious question, and I was quite inspired when I thought about how to answer it!✨

In the past, they used to hunt wild fish, but with the advent of the modern age, they stopped fishing and adapted entirely to the practice of pisciculture. 🐟✨

In a hypothetical future on this Earth, fish are incredibly larger and more abundant. Some have been domesticated, just as we humans used to do, and are treated with deep respect.

In order not to cover too much, I've focused only on the fish that have been domesticated for consumption in the region where my main characters live, called 'Aguazu'.🏝️✨

They are the descendants of species we know, such as Arapaima, Tuna, Tilapia, Sardines, Anchovies, Salmon, Cod, Octopus, Squid, Crab and Shrimp.

These are some of the typical dishes of the Aguazu region, most of which are variations on recipes handed down from the ancient human presence that marked this region a thousand years ago. Lots of seafood-based dishes with a spicy touch! 🌶️✨

Some of these dishes were inspired by real recipes from my country such as: Casquinha de Siri, Tuna Poke, Vatapá, Bobó de Camarão, Moqueca de Peixe, Octopus Rice, Acarajé, Cod Baked in Olive Oil, Cod Croquettes and the sweet dessert called Manjar, which is a coconut pudding with plum syrup!

Things like corn, wheat and other fruits, vegetables and animals domesticated by humans disappeared millions of years ago. So I wondered what other options they could find to use as the main ingredients.

Algae Flour, Palm Oil, Palm Butter, Coconut Milk, Palm Sugar, Domesticated Snake Eggs, Sea Salt. In the Santa Maré region, palm is widely used as the main ingredient, while other regions may prefer ingredients based on algae, for example.

Some domesticated fruits and vegetables are only used to season and enhance the flavor of dishes, but they don't make much difference to their bodies.

There was a time in the past when small and medium-sized sharks feared 'Niuhi', the name for large sharks that could devour smaller sharks such as the great white shark, great hammerhead shark, tiger shark and others.

However, this fear was unjustified, as when a smaller shark fell victim to a wild predator, the Niuhi were the first to be suspected. Fortunately, this has changed over time, although some small displays of prejudice still persist.

They eat several meals a day, and food is plentiful in this civilization, so the great sharks wouldn't need to devour their friends to satisfy their hunger, hehe.

And speaking of Roberto, my big hammerhead shark, if he gets really hungry, a Tuna Poke is enough to make him very happy and satiated! 🍣✨

[stararch4ngelqueen]

A Spoonful of Honey

Jason Todd/pregnant fem!reader (cause why not, I started reading the adventures comic so silly Jason is just on my mind as much as big beefy himbo acting like a baby over taking medicine. Chat I’ve been through it these past months, so this isn’t proofread)

Time Written - 11:05 p.m

The morning was cold, dreadfully cold, with a humid fog blanketing the dreary skies, blurring the atmosphere in a quiet haze. The temperature reached forty degrees at the highest around the late evening, giving those who had no business being outside a perfect excuse to remain indoors.

You basked in this opportunity to bring out your gold handle, cream colored dutch oven. Soft cardigan sleeves pushed up to your elbows to cut vegetables for a hearty dinner.

Slow, rugged feet trudged into the kitchen in the midst of you sautéing a rainbow assortment of veggies in butter and oil, dressed in his ‘plain ol’ civilian clothing’, a muted gray hoodie pulled over his head.

A sort throat was how it started; signifying the side effects to his nightly routine. Vigorous exercise could only help so much to fight off the chill, but with temperatures dropping incredibly low, sweat could nearly freeze on skin shortly after it’s been secreted.

The cold nearly nipped a permanent flush to his chiseled cheeks, kissing a sprinkle of color on his nose. He looked as exhausted as he did the previous night, when he first arrived home with a short cough and occasional clear of his throat.

Jason was sick, in the beginning stages of a cold. He’s not even bothering to hide it, yet continued to insist it wasn’t as bad as he led it on to become.

“You’re makin’ soup?” he asked. A comforting, light pressure of broad muscle against your back. Warm hands roaming from their soft placement along your hip dips roam forward, rustling along the fabric of your plush sweater, palms finally settling snug over your stomach.

“Mhm.” You nod, settling one of your hands over his interlaced fingers. “Chicken. With potato, and a ton of vegetables you like.”

“Mmm,” he hums, lightly sniffing the delectable curls of seasoned steam from your spice additions. “Smells incredible, ma.”

“Thank you. Good for the cold,” you comment, feeling satisfied at your seasoned sauté of protein and vegetables. You glance over your shoulder, smiling a little at his calm, droopy expression. “And colds.”

“Wow. Funny.” He murmurs per your amusement, taking over in reaching for the box of broth you set aside.

“You looked a little under the weather. Just wanted to help you feel a little better.” You reply after nodding in thanks for his aid, snapping open the seal to the box.

“You’re always taking care of me.” He exhales, his head tilting to kiss you on the cheek. He sounds grateful for the consideration, but he’s not very surprised by it.

You always had a tendency to spoil him. It’s just been your nature since the minute he first knew you.

“How’s the little one doing?” he asks, thumbs brushing light ovals over the soft mound of your protruding bump. Barely the size of an overripe grapefruit, or an underripe honeydew.

“Fine. No complaints,” you continue while pouring in the chicken broth. “Though, I’m sure the baby’s convinced that papa is doing a terrible job not resting up.”

Of course, he says nothing of it to confirm or deny. As if there was anything to deny, you could hear it in his slightly nasally tone. His fingers continue their gently ministrations, his eyes seemingly fixated on your actions, or unfocused as his mind trails off to space.

“Jay.”

“Hm?” His head slightly perks, leaving you to instantly assume the latter.

“It’s only been four months. You won’t feel much at four months.”

Maybe it’s faint arrogance to the doctor’s words. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he thinks that he can feel their baby shifting and wriggling around inside. He never thought of it before until it occurred to him one day, entering his mind at first as a silly thought before turning into a strong fixation.

“What, are you expecting it to come out and give you a high five?”

“Shut up.” He grunts, earning you a smirk.

“Couch,” you instruct, your gentle squeeze of your hand on his forearm combatting your firm tone. “Dinner’s almost done. Go relax.”

“Alright.” He’s quick to agree, yet his actions say otherwise. For a man who’s known by others to sulk, in your doting presence he reverts to a state a comfortable serenity, regardless of this mild illness weighing heavy on his tired bones. Regardless of your ever so heartwarming instruction, he retaliates with gentle backlash, consisting of third grade retorts and heavy groans. All in good fun, merely poking at your funny bones to catch a glimpse of a smile.

He moves his hand in little circles against your belly, waiting for his baby to respond. While he doesn’t feel any kicks just yet, he’s excited just thinking about all the times they have to come.

As much as you loved every ounce of physical touch, the slightest pet peeve of him not doing as you requested for his own good irked your mind. “Jason. You gotta move.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, “I’m fine right where I am.”

“You can play with the baby after you eat, Jason,” you insist. “You gotta eat, take some medicine, and rest. You can’t take medicine until you’ve eaten first.”

“I bet you the baby’s hungry, too.” Such sweet words from his mouth nearly had you melting on the spot. Already a doting father in waiting, how could you not feel your heart flutter?

“Jason,” you insist once more, your spoon resting on the rim of the cooking pot.

“Don’t wanna,” he replies, sounding both annoyed and amused by such insistence. His warm body never separated from yours for a mere five to seven minutes after that, your palm reaching up and back to catch his cheek, meeting the warm skin of his flushed face.

“You ever notice that you get grouchy during a cold—“

“I’m not grouchy right now though—”

“—the baby wouldn’t want their papa to be grouchy.”

“And you’re being a little mean.”

“Me? Mean?” You sounds surprised, though you’re smiling wide the entire conversation.

“Yes, you.”

“I could never.”

He doesn’t look at you though, his voice sounding playful once more. “You’re being super mean, trying to make me eat and take medicine and everything. The audacity, ma.”

You scoff as you closes the pot, turning your full bodied attention to Jason.

You smile, adoring your sick beloved, the father of your unborn baby gazing down at you with exhausted, lovestruck teal eyes. He always looked so cute, especially sick with a cold. Especially with the mentality of thinking he can do what he wants at this moment, thinking he’s said all the right words to coerce you.

“Good. That’s called love, now gooo.”

He sighs, and he’s really not looking forward to it. The idea of eating just doesn’t sound appealing right now anymore, nor does taking the medicine. Either way, the coziness of his woman wrapped in pearl colored cashmere with a cozy smile finally allured him towards the promising comfort of the living room couch, a temporary respite.

Inevitably, He left you to finish, granting the kitchen vocal silence for the next twenty minutes, apart from the soft drum of heavenly soup coming to a boil. Only when you come to find him did you see him flopped on the couch, an arm draped over his eyes to block all means of light.

You beckon him with a bowl of warm soup settling on the coffee table, alongside the eventual promise of lemon balm tea with a spoonful of crystallized honey.

“I don’t even feel that sick,” he grunts as he sits up, his voice starting to get a little hoarse from him talking (and complaining). Let the big guy say what he wants, you knew him better than even he admitted to allow.

“Then you’ll have no problem drinking my horrible concoction,” your gentle sarcasm would never be heard as unfavorable in his ears.

Jason takes a sip of his soup, slightly wincing from the heat on his sore throat, but he doesn’t seem as pleased with it as he’d originally thought. It tastes good, everything you’ve ever concocted for meals brought comfort, but as of now. he’s not really as hungry as he anticipated.

“What is this? Chicken, right?” He’s just making small talk now, wanting the conversation to last. “It’s really good, really, ma. Just not as hungry as I thought.”

You nod, not really happy about the outcome. But again, he’s sick. You can’t blame him.

“Take a few more sips, at least. Just so the medicine dosent make your stomach hurt.”

Jason looks away when you mentions the medicine, but he nods all the same. He eats what he can from his bowl, his shoulders slumping as exhaustion decides to increase weight down on his bones, forcing him into an even drowsier state.

All he does is partially lean against you after setting his bowl back on the table, keeping his eyes closed to ease the faint throbbing pressure building at the top of his head.

“I don’t even like cold medicine… I can’t sleep when I’m drowsy.” He mutters to himself, seeming to babble to no one but himself on not being so ill.

Your hand reach up to settle along his back, easing the tension with your fingers massaging his neck, confusion conflicting your mind at first.

“What you just said made no sense,” you giggle a bit, watching him lazily shake his head with a mild scoff.

He presses his head against the curve of your shoulder, his voice growing soft like a cat’s rumble. One of his arms settles lazily around your back. his body feeling practically limp.

By now, his response came in a series of short, muffled hums. He’s not complaining, really, but he is being extremely clingy. He just wants to be wrapped up in your arms, succumbing to an incredibly long sleep in your embrace, as if he can’t support his own weight. (He really can, but chooses not to.)

“On the bright side, the medicine says it tastes like honey.” You gently suggest, putting optimism where it may have lacked.

“Can’t you take it for me?” He lightly whines, his voice rumbling with a drowsy rasp. At this point, it’s not even because of the cold. Jason’s just too exhausted to think straight.

“I don’t know if pregnant women can take this kind of cold medicine,” you whisper to him, holding his shoulder after combing through his hair.

“Pretty please?” He whispers, his body feeling a little warmer from your presence. As comforting as it may have been to him now, a few minutes longer would’ve resorted in an uncomfortable ache in his neck from this poor posture.

“C’mon baby, just one little cup of medicine and you can sleep as much as you want. I’ll even yell at Bruce or Dick if they even try to call.”

Jason gives a light chuckle, his nose brushing along your jaw before planting a minor kiss along your neck.

“Fine, guess I’ll stop giving mama a hard time about it. It’ll be your job in about five months.” He speaks in second tense towards the bump in between you, followed by an eye roll on your end.

Watching you measure out the golden, syrupy mixture of potentially foul tasting medicine left him in a weak bind. He’d graciously drink horrid syrups consisting of fear toxin and joker venom if it meant you’d spoon-feed him an antidote. Such blind devotion was rare to come by throughout his life, comfort was your name in a foreign language.

He’s blessed with your smile once he had gotten the medicine down, rewarded with a kiss on the tip of his nose and a cup of promised tea, ambrosia to combat the foul taste. Goddamn medicine bottles with their stupid, deceiving lies.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so needy.” His slurred mumbling surprised you the most as you adjusted the blankets between the two of you.

A light tongue click leaves you, shaking your head in denial from such an unnecessary apology. “Don’t be, you silly man.”

Whether from some conflicting guilt, or illness inducing dysphoria on his mind, or shame, you gently deny and accept his apology with another kiss.

The effect of the medication is quickly kicks into place after ten minutes in bed, starting to drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Nothing but calm silence steals his consciousness for a few hours, warm bodies sheltered by the chilly winds batting against fogged glass throughout the long hours of the night. Despite the occasional faint echoes of neighbors next door and above, serene silence envelopes the minds of exhausted bodies.

You were snuggled up beside him with one of many pillows invading the space. Your cardigan sprawled neglected on the floor, cast aside due to the overwhelming seer of body heat.

He sighs softly, still tired, but his eyes glance over to the time on the nightstand clock.

He’s been asleep for hours, the time being … A little after eleven.

“Damn.” He whispers, drawing your closer to his body in a close hold. You feel so good like this, so safe. Spending all this time with him, doting on him, caring for him would mean the fifty percent chance you’d be afflicted next once he got better. Jason didn’t mind one bit, as much as he knew he should’ve been the one spending all his free time being attentive to your needs.

Either of you would look back on this and laugh of it, considering it practice for the baby.

For now, in the short time period of limbo between doctors appointments, checklists on supplies, criminal justice, and other impending challenges of becoming parents, everything was quiet. Calm, perfect even.

“Shh, the baby’s sleeping,” you softly retaliate, your hand cradling over his on the bump. You nudge just a little closer to the warmth radiating off him, seeking comfort with the furnace you call your beloved.

“What time is it?”

“Sleeping time,” he retorts, still sounding a little drowsy, his words coming out slow and somewhat slurred. His nose felt more stuffy than before, his head aching with a pressure that grew the longer he remained awake.

Once more, calloused fingers rustle against the fabric of his shirt on your body, potentially to be stretched during the later months to come. Here’s to hoping, he’s been secretly dying to see it.

“I love you both,” he whispers along your forehead, speaking from his heart in the sanctuary of your shared vulnerability.

You smile, tilting your head up to plant a soft, exhausted kiss on his chin. “We love you too,” you whisper, fighting back sleep to express an intimate act of love.

He closes his eyes, ready to sleep again. He’s not tired yet, stuck between the purgatory of both conscious states, but he’s not going to be able to stay awake much longer. At this point, he’s already half in the land of dreams. He’s comfortable—and happy to be with you, and with his baby.

“Never wanna let go of you two,” he mumbles, faintly catching the fragrance of your shampooed hair, the faint spice of ambery musk clinging to your skin.

You can’t help but quietly coo, burying most of your face against the crook of Jason’s neck.

“Then, don’t.”