#palm oil price today

[pricevisionai]

Commodity Trading: Introduction to AI-based Price Forecasting Tool

A commodity is a freely exchangeable good or material with a similar worth to a piece of merchandise. Agricultural goods, energy, metal, and animals and meat are the four main groups. Commencing thousands of years ago, the pricing and selling of commodities have always been crucial to the establishment of numerous empires, both economically and politically. Commodity markets have expanded over the years in tandem with ongoing product development.

Commodity exchanges' primary goal is to provide producers with a marketplace where they may sell their goods to consumers who are in need of them. However, it is associated with extremely high volatility brought on by speculators who buy assets for a brief period of time with the hope of making money from changes in price. As a result, they might never handle the successful service of the commodity.

Artificial intelligence forecasting and planning is a discipline that enables unsupervised, scientific future projections. Time series data is used by AI planning systems to forecast future trends in a variety of sectors, including sales, health, financial services, and production. With AI forecasting, scheduling and planning issues can be easily anticipated.

Why are predicting commodity prices of interest to people?

Since the earliest days of human civilization, the pricing and trade of commodities (i.e., things and raw materials that may be purchased and sold) have attracted a significant deal of attention. A civilization's growth was closely tied to its capacity to generate valuable things that could be exchanged for other goods or commodities that it lacked but which were essential to its prosperity. The trading and pricing of commodities have grown increasingly complex over time, yet the underlying rules that govern how they are handled now are the same as those that applied a few thousand years ago.

Numerous applications of commodities can be seen in our daily lives. With the ongoing evolution of products, the uses and needs for commodities have changed over time. One of the most ancient and commonly used materials is copper, which has been used for thousands of years to make tools and weapons for hunting and farming, among other things. Due to its excellent conductivity, copper is now mostly used in electrical equipment, particularly electrical wire.

Individuals are interested in valuing and selling commodities for a variety of reasons. The producers and purchasers of real physical commodities make up a sizable fraction of those involved in trading operations related to commodities. In this instance, different forms of future contracts are used for hedging reasons to carry out the purchasing and selling activities. Speculators are a diverse group of individuals that are engaged in commodity trading. Here, speculative traders engage in financial operations with the intention of making money by profiting from changes in commodity prices. Speculators have zero interest in purchasing the actual commodity.

AI for anticipating time series

Machine Learning (ML) or artificial intelligence more generally, is the research of algorithms that can generate results that depend heavily on the input data given. Contrary to this, traditional algorithms usually do a particular task by carefully following a set of clear, predetermined instructions. Thanks to improvements in processing power as well as an abundance of data that can be used to "train" these kinds of algorithms, algorithms for machine learning have grown in popularity and have been widely implemented in recent years.

Machine learning includes a wide range of techniques, which are typically divided into three groups based on the kind of problem they try to answer and the kind of data they have access to. Supervised Learning, Unsupervised Learning, and Reinforcement Learning are the three categories of algorithms. Algorithms for Supervised Learning, which may be directly applied to time-series data, are mostly used in price forecasting.

There is a lot of research being done to increase the dependability of time series information for applications other than just finance. Examples of these applications include forecasting consumer demand or product usage, figuring out how traffic will change in a certain location, or even anticipating how patients will react to certain medications over a specified time frame.

What methods does AI planning use?

In terms of models and techniques for various sorts of AI forecasting and planning in business, three approaches now dominate the field of artificial intelligence:

Networks using Bayes

One of the earliest types of AI, Bayesian Networks, scale exceptionally well for many different types of challenges and are possibly the most extensively used and significant AI technologies. They effectively carry out a wide range of highly diversified AI activities, including order planning features in slashing POS systems, spam filters that secure your email inbox, and military equipment used to detect threats to national security.

Adaptive Algorithms

Despite having a long history of inspiration, optimization techniques represent one of the most recent developments in artificial intelligence. Mimicking the natural processes of recombination, mutation, and performance comparison to identify the most suited to undergo further evolution. Due to the fact that they are a better fit for engineering issues where the circumstances are complex but extremely well understood, optimization algorithms are less frequently used in AI planning. Nevertheless, they are nevertheless quite helpful in various forecasting and planning activities since they are creative and new optimizers that may come up with answers that people usually wouldn't think of.

In-depth Learning

Despite being the most computationally intensive AI discipline, it is also the youngest. What it misses in the sophistication of age, it frequently more often than compensates for through its striking resemblance to the mechanisms found in the genuine, innate intellect of humans. Unstructured data is taken and put through a network of specialized algorithms, each of which focuses on a specific portion of the data before merging their individual characterizations to analyze the entire data set. This algorithm is ideally suited to making decisions on tasks that cannot be easily characterized by basic rules since each component gradually improves its task by "learning" with each run. This can be a crucial asset when forecasting or making plans based on preferences or human behavior.

How are planning and forecasting using AI used in various industries?

Every day, a wide variety of businesses employ AI forecasting and planning to create firm scientific predictions for their operations.

Several instances include:

To balance supplies & sales in a way that maximizes profits, the whole global production supply chain relies on AI forecasting and planning. Even the smallest manufacturing requires considerably more suppliers than a human mind can handle on its own, much less perfectly optimize. None of the contemporary huge industrial corporations could even exist, much less rule their sector, without AI forecasting and planning.

Since causal inference is not well-suited for predicting novel events but accurate planning is still crucial to success, high-tech industries rely on AI forecasting and forecasting when creating cutting-edge products.

In order to overcome the prejudices of doctors, scientists, and support workers and better comprehend sickness and modify therapies using data-driven approaches, healthcare is quickly adopting AI forecasting and planning.

Forecasting the right time to switch inventory between summer to fall is crucial in a worldwide retail management system. However, if it isn't taken into account independently for each hemisphere when the temperatures rise, Australia will receive shipments of bulky winter clothing.

How is AI planning crucial to your company?

With considerably fewer errors and consistently better results than data scientists and specialists, AI forecasting and planning employs algorithms to make forecasts and forecast tendencies without the use of human judgment. Studies that compared expert human forecasts with predictions made by artificial intelligence almost always showed the former to be superior. Although AI and algorithms won't ever completely replace human intelligence, data analysts and forecasters will always find their capacity to evaluate data to be useful tools.

Businesses are aware of many parts of specific data, such as the typical length of customer waits or the number of products that can be produced in a day, but due to the millions of bytes that are collected every day and the fact that a large portion of that data is unstructured, it is essentially impossible for a person to analyze data as quickly and precisely as AI.

Insufficient AI prediction in your company could result in significant efficiency losses. According to studies, the majority of corporate planners believe artificial intelligence will replace traditional methods of demand forecasting in the future.

Greater portions of planning and forecasting will need to be done by AI as the world becomes more complicated since the human mind cannot keep up with that degree of complexity. Until it completely vanishes, such data prediction work produced without AI is becoming increasingly unusual. A company will benefit more from implementing this technology as soon as possible.

What qualities should AI forecasting tools have?

Artificial intelligence prediction systems must clearly and simply transform unprocessed data into scientific projections. They should take a two-pronged approach, using historical data to evaluate forecasting models and predict future trends in addition to your data.

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 2

Moniker: Farah Risk Level: Low. Farah has never been detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Loss of virginity, virginity kink. Safeword: Refer to first brief.

I trust Farah fully, she will look after you. I’ll be watching - Price

“Still doing ok? Think your hymen is pretty thin, so you might tear a little” Farah asked, her finger slowly pressing up inside of you.

You liked her, she was gorgeous in casual lounge wear and had greeted you warmly. The room was set up similarly to yesterday but now with colourful drapes enclosing the bed like a warm cocoon and a table set up full of snacks and water. There was the faint scent of coconut from the oil she had liberally applied on her fingers and your pussy. It was very relaxed.

But then again she had also ordered you out of your clothes in the first 30 seconds and got her finger inside you as soon as you were bare.

“Yeah, I’m ok.”

“Hm, and this?” she said while her thumb gently swept across your clit.

You sucked a sharp breath through your teeth. Still sensitive.

“Ah, I thought it looked a little tender. Soap is an animal” she said fondly. “I’ll be kinder. This is a gift you’re giving me and I’m not in the business of hurting those who give me gifts.”

She leaned over and pressed a quick, almost innocent peck to your sore clit and slowly pumped her finger as she sat back up and grabbed a strawberry off of one of the plates with her other hand. She was beautiful stretching over like that, but my God you did not know why how casual she was about a finger inside you was making you hot.

“Eat habibi, you need to relax.”

The strawberry burst in your mouth and you chewed slowly before swallowing, a pleasant sweetness left behind. She quite literally had you eating from the palm of her hand by the time she added a second finger.

You couldn’t quite decide how it felt. You’d tried it yourself sure, but honestly since your aim was always just to get off you usually didn’t go anywhere near your hole unless it was to gather up some lubrication. It had been strange having a tongue inside you, but the fingers were so much longer and able to stroke differently than Soap’s tongue had.

They kept brushing against what you assumed was your hymen. You hadn’t expected it to be in tact to be honest, you knew there was every likelihood it would have torn or stretched out already just with life. It didn’t really matter to you whether or not you bled when you lost your virginity. To be honest you just wanted it gone because while you understood it was a dumb social construct, that didn’t stop your brain from getting weird about it.

“You’re so tight” Farah said, the edge of a groan in her voice. “But you’ll take me so well. They raise little girls into women who think it is supposed to hurt, who have a voice telling them they are supposed to suffer to prove their worth.”

She curled one finger up and it rubbed against the top of your channel, searching for something.

“It is my privilege to undo the damage for those woman. I will fuck such pride into you that you will never know that voice again.”

It felt like a lightning bolt when her finger found what it has been searching for. She pressed up against the top of your channel and it felt like she had set you on fire as your legs spasmed at the sensation.

“There we are! It’s good that you’re sensitive here, not everybody is” she said, obviously pleased but still so shockingly casual about the whole thing as she smiled and planted a kiss on the tip of your nose. “It gives me some idea of angles for you, maybe today we won’t even need to touch you on the outside to have you peak.”

You wanted to whine at her for being so unaffected, so perfectly calm and collected in her soft sweats and hoodie.

Meanwhile Price was grinning like a madman watching Farah Karim be so fully affected by you on the cameras. She did not treat just anyone with such care, did not share small affections so easily. And she certainly did not struggle to smother the underlying groan of appreciation in her voice unless she was deeply, truly and entirely affected.

How could she not be? She didn’t hide her love of virgins. There was something about the trust it took to give that up to her, to let her slowly, painstakingly open you up so she could nestle inside you. She couldn’t wait to see how wet you made her strap, how sweetly your hole would clench around it. Her body would not take it’s pleasure from that weighty silicone, for virgins she did not pick a harness designed to stimulate her as well. The rush from knowing she was claiming something that society placed such a heavy weight on, the almost ritualistic feeling of the whole affair, that was what she wanted. Her pleasure could come later.

She was content to take her time, make sure your inexperienced pussy was nice and relaxed and welcoming. It wasn’t so different from taming a skittish animal, she had to make sure it felt safe enough to begin craving affection.

“That’s it, do you feel that? How your muscles are relaxing and you’re starting to loosen up for me? You’re doing perfectly habibi” she praised.

Oh her voice was so silky that it felt like it was caressing you, sliding against your skin. You felt how your body became more receptive, how your pussy began to massage around her two fingers as they scissored out to increase the stretch. You wanted more you realised. You couldn’t quite believe it, but you wanted more.

Maybe it was wrong of you, but you’d never quite understood the hype. The idea of someone pushing inside you, tearing part of you and then humping themselves into you over and over to seek their pleasure while you tried to adjust to the pain made you feel a little queasy. You so wanted to just get that first experience over with, were so certain it would be awful.

Now? Now you felt languid and warm. It wasn’t the frenzied heat that Soap had you in the day before, rather a slow, decadent sort of heat. One that only drizzled itself further over you as Farah fed you more ripe fruit that burst on your tongue.

“Farah?”

“Hm?”

“I would like you to take it. Take me.”

You were surprised by your own steady calmness, but it felt right. It felt like you had just figured out a part of who you were. It didn’t make you anxious to ask for what you wanted, didn’t have your body tensing. If anything it made you feel more free.

“It would be an honour” Farah answered with full sincerity as she slowly pulled her fingers from you and brought them to your mouth.

It felt natural to clean them off. Not awkward, not scandalous. Just natural, like her fingers belonged in your mouth with your tongue sensually snaking around them. You liked how you tasted on her.

“Keep yourself loose for me habibi” she said before kissing you quickly and going to strap up.

The kiss made your head spin and your body feel weightless. You really, really liked her.

It wasn’t uncomfortable or strange dipping two of your fingers into yourself now. Your body gave way easily for them, knife through warm and melting at the edges butter. You lazily fingered yourself and watched her fit the harness around her hips over her clothes. The cock she fitted didn’t look as intimidating as it would have when you walked into this room.

She had chosen something beginner friendly. It was about average length and thick enough to fill you without the stretch feeling impossible. The textured surface would help her nail your g-spot and she was near drooling at the image of you cumming hard around her cock, going absolutely limp and boneless from how it would feel to orgasm without her ever playing with your clit.

With that image firmly filling her thoughts she came back to you on the bed, slowly moving between your legs to nestle her strap between your thighs and rock it gently against you, careful to only bump your sore clit just barely.

“Here, let this melt slowly in your mouth, try focus on how it tastes” she said, taking a piece of chocolate and placing it on your tongue.

The silicone was dripping with oil so when it caught on your hole it was an easy push inside. The chocolate was unreal. It wasn’t like anything you had ever tasted and you were pretty sure from how luxurious it was that it cost more than what you made in a month (or used to, at least, this gig was incredibly lucrative).

It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t some mind blowing pleasure, it was more a pinch followed by a heavy fullness that made it tricky to catch your breath.

“Good, so good habibi. How’s the chocolate?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could let her taste it for herself, kissing her firmly with no worry about messiness or sexiness. You just wanted to be full of her everywhere, wanted her tongue dancing with yours.

It was a different feeling when you moved. The fullness was insistent and anytime another part of you felt it there was a spark across your body. You moaned wantonly into her mouth, licking the last of the melted chocolate from her tongue before taking a deep, incredible feeling breath and laying back down.

“Good?” she asked.

“So good. Love me.”

She smiled and gently grabbed your hips for purchase so she could slowly pull out a little and rock into you to let you adjust. Soon she was pulling out right to the tip and then firmly pushing back in to the root.

You let yourself go, no worrying about how you sounded or looked, just enjoying the experience with moans and your hands smoothing across your body. It felt good to squeeze your breast or trace patterns on your stomach and right now feeling good was what mattered.

“Ya Allah, you are so beautiful” she said on a gasp as she made love to you.

“So are you” you replied dreamily.

This whole experience was a dream. Your body felt so fucking good. It was as if your blood was syrup pumping lazily and richly through you, making everything sweet and sticky. Every slow thrust rubbed against that spot she had found earlier and compounded the feeling.

Your body worked itself up so, so slowly. It was a sharp contrast to how Soap had worked you the day before, hurling you over the cliff over and over so you didn’t know how to even think anymore. No, this was a more leisurely affair, your body taking it’s time, savouring every morsel of sensation before moving on to the next.

The orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced. It was just a natural progression of the pleasure that had been building rather than a sudden explosion and it felt like it lasted so luxuriously long. Your body was doing the same as it had been, savouring those ripe bursts of sensation before moving on to the next bite.

When finally the pleasure had all been tasted and swallowed down you sighed in bliss. It ached when Farah pulled out, but it was a good ache.

“That was amazing” you said.

“You were amazing” she replied, brushing her fingers against your cheek. “You bled for me.”

“Did I?”

You were honestly surprised. There hadn’t been much in the way of sharp pain or feeling like you were tearing, so you had thought you hadn’t and that there probably wasn’t any blood at all.

“You did. Would you allow me to keep it?”

You didn’t know how she meant to do that and you found you didn’t much care.

“It’s yours.”

Farah did her own aftercare with you, washing you and then massaging fragrant oil into your skin before hand feeding you while you talked for hours.

In a few weeks she would have a brand new bead for her bracelet and would wear your gift proudly on her wrist right next to all the others.

[vampire-matcha]

Part 2 of the 141 Mechanics AU

(Not proofread. Threesome. Blowjob, p in v, spit roasting. Sex as payment. Clothed/semi-clothed sex. Protected sex.

---

You got the call the next day that your car is fixed. Price isn't in the shop today, but Soap and Gaz are, and you stomach does flips in the Uber ride over there from the anticipation. What comes next? Who comes next? Literally! The bell rang as you opened the door to the front of the shop. You looked around but didn't see anyone right away.

"In here!" Shouted a distinctly Scottish voice from the back if the shop, where the garage was. You played with the hem of your skirt as you walked back. It wasn't terribly short, you didn't want to be too obvious, but you couldn't resist dressing a little more risqué than usual.

Johnny was leaning on a raised car as Gaz worked on it from underneath. He turned to greet you and gave you the biggest smile you'd ever seen from him. He looked you up and down as he swaggered up to you.

"There she is," Soap said playfully. He stopped in front of you. He wiped his hands with a rag he pulled from his pocket. "And doesn't she look stunning?" His eyes were fixated on the hem of your skirt, and your thighs peeking out from underneath. Behind him, Gaz rolled out from under the car.

"Doesn't she always?" He said with a wink as he stood up and walked to the shop sink to clean the oil from his hands. You smiled and ducked your head from their compliments.

"How's the car?" You asked.

"Eh, well, it's better, I suppose. For now, at least," Soap answered, rubbing the back of his neck and turning back to the car.

"What was wrong with it?" You asked as he walked to the garage door and pulled it down.

"The flim-flam was jammed," he answered.

"And the doohickey was upside-down," Gaz called from across the garage.

"And the whatcha-ma-callit was caught on the thingy-ma-jig," Soap finished.

This, of course, was not what they actually said. But it might as well have been. You never understood any of their mechanic mumbo-jumbo. They might as well have been speaking Latin for all you understood. So you just nodded and said okay. Soap chuckled at your response.

"You're so cute when you're confused," he mumbled. "Now, normally, this would've set you back almost a grand to fix, but..." he stepped into your personal space, looking down at you with hungry eyes. "Price said you two were able to work out a little arrangement. A sort of... 'loyalty discount,' is that right?" Just with him being so close to you, your heart was already skipping a beat. You nodded your head, and he reached up to put a finger under your chin. "So instead of paying an arm and a leg... I guess you'll be paying with pussy instead." Your eyes widened at his lewd words. His thumb prodded at your bottom lip. "Or maybe I'll take this pretty mouth instead."

You gasped at the feeling of hands suddenly grasping your waist and a firm, warm body pressed against your back.

"How about you take her mouth, I'll take her cunt?" Gaz asked, his mouth right next to your ear. Your pussy throbbed and you felt a rush of blood and wetness flood your bottom half. His fingers wormed their way under your shirt and started to push it upward. Johnny's eyes followed the movement, drinking in your exposed stomach, and licking his lips when Gaz revealed the lacey bra you wore. "How's that sound to you, baby?" He asked with a nibble on your earlobe.

"Sounds like a damn good deal to me," Soap interjected as his other hand squeezed your breast.

"Yeah," you agreed breathlessly. You were already hot and bothered from their words and hands. Imagining being split between their cocks had you dizzy. Gaz pulled your shirt over your head and Soap pulled your bra down, exposing your tits for him to fondle. Next, Gaz lifted up the back of your skirt, and you yelped at the harsh smack of your ass he gave you, which made both men chuckle. Gaz palmed and squeezed your ass, and then paused.

"Oh fuck," he groaned.

"What?" Soap asked. His question was answered when Gaz pulled your skirt higher in the front for Soap to see... no panties. His jaw dropped at the sight of your bare pussy. "Oh, you dirty girl," he grumbled, and then crashed his lips into yours with a moan. You parted your lips for him with a gasp as Gaz slid his fingers between your folds from behind.

"Fuck, she's so wet," he mused. You could feel the rumble in his chest behind you as he chuckled. You moaned into Soap's mouth as Gaz found your clit and rubbed circles into it. "Fucking soaked. You want this cock? Huh?" He smacked your ass again and you moaned into Soap's mouth.

The two of them guided you over to the rolling thing Gaz had been laying on, which he flipped up into a stool. He not-so-gently pushed you onto your knees and bent you over the seat with another spank. You could hear his clothes rustling behind you as you watched Soap kneel in front of you, one of his hands petting over your hair as his crotch became level with your face. Gaz patted his pockets and cursed.

"Shit. Tav, do you have a-" he was cut off by Soap tossing a small silver package over you. "Thanks, mate." You looked over your shoulder and watched Gaz tear open the condom and roll it onto his pretty cock. "You ready, doll?" He asked as he lined himself up to your wet entrance.

"God, yes," you answered. Then he pushed in, his cock stretching you out and filling you up slowly and deliciously. Soap smirked at the way your eyes rolled back in your head as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down his thighs. It spring out and hit your cheek, and the three of you laughed breathlessly.

"Open up, bonnie," he told you, and you obeyed, opening your mouth wide and pushing your tongue out for him to rub against for a moment. Then, he places his hands on either side of your head. He looked down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily, and you sucked around the head. Gaz dragged himself out and then pushed in hard, making you moan around Soap, which made Soap moan as well. "Fuck, do that again." And Gaz did, thrusting into you hard, the blunt head hitting you deep. The two of them started to set a pace, not too fast, but slow enough that you started to squirm on the bench.

"You want it harder?" Gaz asks from behind you. You moan around Soap again, bobbing your head as you nod. Gaz is more than happy to oblige, immediately fucking you harder and faster, ultimately pushing your throat deeper onto Soap. Your head starts to spin as your breath is cut off and Gaz keeps hitting the perfect spot inside you.

When Kyle reached around to play with your clit it was over for you, and your pussy squeezed tight around his cock. His hips stutter for a second, the tightness of your muscle momentarily trapping him inside and triggering his orgasm. He groans loudly and slams his hips against your ass, forcing your face against Soap's pelvis. His happy trail tickles your nose, and all of your senses are taken over by these two sweaty, musky men. Gaz stills inside you as he fills up the condom, and Soap pulls you off him so he can jerk himself off onto your face.

You flinch slightly at the hot droplets landing on your cheeks and tongue as he moans above you. The three of you take a moment to catch your breath, Soap leaning on your car beside him, Gaz behind you rubbing his hands up and down your hips, and you, slouched over the rolly bench.

"Yeah," Soap said after a moment, "I think that about paid for everything."

---

Guess who remembered how to write lmao. I can't even tell you how long this has been sitting in my drafts for. I forgot about is, oopsie. Anyway, let me know if you want pt.3 with Simon and his tow truck...

[vroombeams]

Possessiveness & Public/Semi-Public for Oscarmark :)

Oscar goes to one knee before the throne.

He's magnificent, Mark thinks, this creature that has come to him from the sea. A gift from the Drowned God, surely.

"Rise," he says, and Oscar stands, body poised in that careless way he has—deceptive in its looseness, shoulders dropped and face bored.

Mark starts to unlace himself. Oscar stays, impassive. He waits for his command, like a good dog should.

"Another job well done," Mark says, absent as he pulls himself from his breeches, finds himself thickening already.

Oscar dips his head in some approximation of a bow. "My lord." Barely an acknowledgment. His eyes, when he lifts them, are like the rest of him. Feigning disinterest like silk over a sword.

Mark gestures him over, one-handed.

Today, Oscar's brought a bounty; things he's taken from merchant ships out at sea, paid the iron price for. Weapons, and gold, of course. Lush fabrics that Mark has no use for but will trade well with the greenlanders.

Oil, from Dorne. Oscar offers him this personally.

When Mark pours it into an open palm, the oil is deliciously thick, slicks his cock with ease. Smart boy, that he's brought this today.

Mark only has to pat his thigh for Oscar to move. To unlace and climb up into Mark's lap. The throne is wide enough to fit them both. Oscar's knees and thick thighs, snugly bracketing Mark's hips.

Oscar tugs down his trousers just enough for Mark to find what he wants, and he sits obediently when Mark presses against him.

He doesn't speak. In one motion, he braces his hands on the armrests and sheathes Mark inside of him, and Mark settles back in his chair. The only sign he's been breached at all is the pink on his cheeks, stark against bone-white flesh.

He's as tight as the first time, and just as quiet. Quiet even in the times when they've no oil to ease the way, when Mark knows it's spreading him beyond what a body should be able to take. Things that don't matter. Not to Mark, and so not to Oscar.

Oscar doesn't move until Mark smacks sharply at his hip.

He is a vision. Fucking himself on Mark's cock, pale face gone blotchy red. His lips part and he pants with the exertion. Mark has no use for pretty things, but he can appreciate how Oscar is lovely the way the sea is. Dangerous. Merciless. Like salt-water pulled into the shape of a boy, with the loyal heart of a dog.

Oscar shuffles forward on his knees and grips the back of the throne for more leverage. Mark allows it. From here, now, Mark can watch Oscar's lashes flutter as he finds his own incidental pleasure.

He whispers Mark's name, sometimes, when it's like this. No my lord. No title at all, and Mark allows that as well. Because he is in every other way perfection; stone and salt, blood and steel. Everything an Ironborn should be.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Single Grain

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel) | Part 10 (ft. Jack and Vil) | Bonus (ft. Grim)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

An octopus concerned with sales and a robot that only recently gained a heart… They’re Gordon Ramsay’s final hurdles to instill a respect for food and cooking in the NRC boys!

Finally, FINALLY I'm done with this shitpost of a series 🤡

Imagine this...

“Gordon-san~”

The master chef shuddered to look up from his station, knowing exactly what was awaiting him. That sickeningly coy, dulcet purr could only belong to a certain sleazy student--but as the instructor, Gordon had an obligation to answer his call. Groaning, a fuck me on the tip of his tongue, he met Azul head-on.

The boy had sidled up, a red-colored clump of risotto in his hands and his lips arranged into an all-too-familiar grin. He had taken care to tuck as much of his silvery hair under a chef's cap, and there was not so much as a stain upon his jacket.

Pristine, just as he wished to be perceived as.

“Is this amount of filling appropriate for the croquettes?” Azul presented his rice ball, indicating the mound of cheese and herbs in the center.

“Yes, it’s fine.”

The blunt response thrown out, Gordon returned to his mise en place—chopping the vegetables for a fried rice. It was clean, precise work. Chop, chop, chop, then the medley of colors tossed into their own bowls. Orange carrots, green broccoli, yellow corn, pink shrimp.

“Gordon-san.”

A twinge of annoyance.

He set down his knife. “What is it now?”

“What do you think of the shape?” Azul had completely formed the sphere, which fit in his palm. The insides were covered up by more rice. “Too large, and it won’t fry thoroughly in the oil. Too little, and it will surely burn.”

Gordon eyed it with a grunt. “It works. Throw it in some breadcrumbs and get to cooking.”

“Certainly, sir!”

Azul retreated.

Gordon sighed.

Peace, he knew, was short lived. A minute or so later, his too-eager pupil began once more.

“Gordon-san, I’d like your opinion on the color,” Azul called. He spooned his rice croquettes from a frying pan. They were a crisp, golden crimson-brown, still sizzling with heat.

"It looks exactly like the photo from the recipe book.”

"Thank you! I’m honored to receive your praise." Azul beamed smugly as he deposited the balls onto a plate. "Now then! What do you make of selling these as an appetizer? I do believe 1500 madol for three is a fair price for the cost of ingredients and labor."

Gordon threw his arms up. "This is the fifth time today, Ashengrotto. Are you going to keep asking me for feedback on your lounge’s menu plans like this?!"

Azul drew back with a gasp, feigning offense. “I’m making small talk! Is it so wrong to try and get to know one’s teacher—who just so happens to be a well-traveled, skilled chef with incredible business acumen?”

The stare Gordon retaliated with could have burned holes into mountains. Azul held his gaze and lightly scoffed.

“From one restauranteur to another… Why, I’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity!! You cannot fault a student for wishing to make the most of your wisdom.”

“… Get back to work. This class is for making food, not for cooking up business strategies.” He squinted at Azul’s croquettes. “And this time, try making your own filling.”

“What? My own…?” The octopus pushed his glasses up.

“You’ve already demonstrated you can reproduce the original dish without a problem. This is your chance to get creative with whatever’s in the pantry.” Gordon cocked a brow. “You can do it, can’t you?”

“Of course I can. What do you take me for, an amateur?”

Gordon's senses were as sharp as the blade of his knife.

He didn’t miss the slight stutter in Azul’s voice, a chink in his armor. It was a small glimpse of that unconfident part of himself that the octopus so often shunted away.

He may have grown up in a restaurant, but maybe he hasn’t had much experience cooking himself? Might explain why he clings so closely to what’s written down.

“Ashengrotto—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Azul declared a little louder than he would have liked. “I will be certain to present you with a uniquely delicious filling of my own creation—no, three!”

He fell in line beside a small student in visors, the cut of his clothes blockier and studier than his own. It was of an unnatural origin--manmade, meant to imitate a chef--but the ensemble fit him perfectly.

The young boy flipped a hamburger patty juicy with grease into the air--and it fell in a narrow arc, landing atop a mound of rice. A sunny side egg followed, its golden center wobbling upon impact. With a sprinkle of finely sliced scallions, the dish was done.

He smiled, showing sharp teeth. "Recipe complete. Now proceeding to the judging stage!"

"Already?!" Gordon cried, jaw dropping. "The rice alone should have taken 30 minutes. Everything else is about 15 minutes. Bit fast to be finished now."

"You don't need to worry! My Cooking Gear is outfitted with various tools to help expedite the process."

"You and Idia-san have truly outdone yourselves with this new gear," Azul gushed. "It's quite efficient."

He passed a subtle glance at Ortho's towering hat. Azul had witnessed it pop open earlier, revealing a hidden rice cooking chamber. While the main starch had steamed, Ortho had worked on his other preparations.

"Hehe. Thank you, Azul Ashengrotto-san! I'm sure Nii-san will be pleased to hear about these promising preliminary results."

"Well... You technically didn't use magic for this, so I'll let it go."

"Yay~ That's one step closer to clearing this mission!! All that's left is the tasting."

Gordon, bewildered, watched as the platter of loco moco floated itself over to him. It was a technological marvel of Ortho's own design.

"Please dig it! I have recreated the recipe to 99.9% accuracy, right down to the original chef's technique, so I am confident that it tastes good."

Gordon blinked as he carefully accepted the plate from the air. Prodding a fork into the yolk, it burst and ran down the hamburger and rice in thick, fatty rivulets.

He hesitated in bringing a bite to his mouth.

"Hm? Is something the matter?" Ortho paused. "Oh, if it isn't to your liking, let me know and I can adjust the seasoning to suit your personal preferences. The Cooking Gear may be for everyday kitchen use, but it is also capable of analyzing flavor profiles and generating optimal variants if prompted with a base recipe."

"It's not that. I just don't think I've ever had a class go this smoothly.” Rice drenched in luxurious yolk fell onto Gordon’s tongue. “Usually there's some problem. Students that lack discipline or focus, need extra instruction, have no respect for the recipes or kitchen safety..."

"Wah, it sounds like you've been through some tough times, Gordon Ramsay-san... It seems there is much more to being a chef than just producing dishes."

“You’re right about that, my darling. There’s still a lot for you to learn—things that fancy Cooking Gear can’t teach you, like how to deal with insufferable donkeys and idiot sandwiches.”

“… I’m afraid I don’t compute.”

"Oh, you poor, unfortunate soul," Azul cut in, warbling in agreement. "Why, I've experienced the very same! You wouldn't believe how combative Floyd can be when he's not in the mood for cooking and we have a line of hungry customers lining up.

"Running an eatery is but a team effort, wouldn't you say? As teacher and students,m sharing the same kitchen, we should place more trust in one another."

Not this again.

“There’s truth to what you’re saying, but I get the feeling you’re leading into another business idea,” Gordon grumbled. “And this isn’t the time for that.”

“We can include Ortho-san in our conversation if you’re concerned. It would be wonderful to have the perspective of an underclassman.”

“You want the free child labor,” Gordon guessed.

“Volunteer work,” Azul countered. “It would look good on a resume.”

“If it’s running a simulation of projected sales or something of the like, I’ve got you!”

“No, no, DON’T ‘get’ him!!”

“Aww, but it sounded interesting.”

"Listen here." Gordon set down his fork and set his sights upon his students. "What you have is a good basis, a solid grasp of the fundamentals and how to read a recipe. We can build off of that, but it doesn't have to mean setting up a restaurant or making combinations a computer came up with. Food can be many other things.

"Food is what grounds us, giving us nutrition and energy so that we may survive. Food is an art form, feeding our souls and imaginations. Food is to socialize, shared among friends and family to make memories. Food is a skill, technical and taught. Food is connection and culture, rich with love and history."

And he, tasked with it. Preparing, serving.

That knowledge, Gordon realized, was like rice. A single grain of rice can become an entire field, flushed gold with opportunity. It was grown, harvested, given back to the earth... and the cycle began anew, feeding and nourishing countless.

He nodded resolutely. "Let's cultivate not only your cooking abilities, but also your appreciation for food as a whole."

"... My, my. Spoken like a true Master Chef!" A slow smirk found its way onto Azul's face. "I could ask for no better instructor."

"Azul Ashengrotto-san is right!" Ortho chimed in. "We're so lucky to have a teacher like you to guiding us."

Gordon found his own mouth quirking as he wiped it.

These boys, his rising stars, grains of rice with potential yet to be realized.

"Alright, that's enough of paying lip service. Ashengrotto, your new filling. Shroud, let's see you do the same with your own take on loco moco."

"Yes, Chef!"

[probablyasocialecologist]

Palm oil was essential to the lubrication of industrial machinery, including machines of war. The engines and mechanisms of steamships that allowed for the rapid expansion of the export of palm oil to Europe were oiled with palm oil. It greased the wheels of the railways built into African territories to facilitate the extraction of palm oil, minerals, and other materials. Indeed, it was the advent of steam ships that helped cheapen the price of palm oil in the mid-1800s, such that it could become such a pivotal commodity, so far from home. And it was on faster moving and more consistent steamships, lubricated by palm oil, that seedlings of E.guineensis were transported in the early twentieth century to the Dutch and British colonies of (respectively) Indonesia and Malaya. Singapore became the shipping and financial hub of the industry, and it remains so today.

Max Haiven, Palm Oil: The Grease of Empire

[godesssiri]

10 Thrifting tips the thrilling continuation

I am a dedicated thrifter and I have done a few thrifting tips posts, things to look for, how to find the best stuff. I had an excellent day thrifting today and decided it was a good day to polish up a draft I had and post it. So read more for tips to get the goodies.

If you buy fairly plain wooden furniture, it doesn’t take a whole lot of expertise to refinish it. You can get a cheap palm sander for less than 50 bucks, and a small tin of furniture wax goes a long, long, loooong way. Or you can get Danish oil if you want a satin finish or Teak oil for a gloss finish. Don’t let Youtube videos make you believe you have to test out 10 zillion different coloured stains unless you are aiming for a very specific look. Just make sure you slap something nourishing on the wood after you’ve sanded it. Also remember that whatever product you use; multiple light coats will come out better than one thick coat. There’s a huge amount of satisfaction in looking at a gorgeous chunk of wood you’ve bought back to life.

French milled/triple milled soap. Old ladies like to give soap as gifts and people tend to stick it in their drawer to scent their clothes and never actually use it, eventually they have a clean out and this unused soap goes to the thrift store still in it’s original paper wrapping. This soap is expensive. This soap is fantastic. The milling process creates a very different product than the bars you get at the supermarket. It doesn’t go goopy and melty even if you leave it sitting in a puddle in your shower, it’s not as drying to your skin, the scent stays on your skin for longer. These bars last for months, it’s well worth picking them up if you like the scent.

Blue Willow. Would you like to have a nice set of china but don’t want to drop a lot of money on something that might look dated in 10 years? Collect blue willow from thrift stores. Blue willow has been around for hundreds of years and it’s going to be around for hundreds more. It can be slotted in to almost any home style, classical, boho, maximalist, scandi, etc, etc. Because it’s been around for so long pretty much every manufacturer has done it, so you find it really often at thrift stores and it’s easy to pick up a couple of plates here and a serving bowl there. Also, because so many companies have done it over such a long period it’s possible to pick up modern dishwasher safe dinner plates that you can use alongside a lovely 100-year-old antique gravy boat.

Gifts. Never feel ashamed of buying gifts from thrift stores. The perfect vintage item is way more meaningful than any amount of new stuff. And if you’re buying for someone who doesn’t like vintage; if something looks new and undamaged how is the recipient going to know that it’s not new?

Get yourself a thrifting routine. You’re gonna find the best stuff if you go often so don’t just randomly go every now and then. People who say they never find anything are the ones who only call into a thrift store every couple of months and expect something amazing to just drop into their lap. Set a day once a week, or every other week or once a month, but make a commitment to go on a regular basis.

If you see something that you think you like but you’re not 100% sure, as long as you can afford it and have a place for it, get the thing. Take it home, live with it. Maybe you’ll decide you don’t really like it and take it back to the thrift store and consider the price you paid a charitable donation. But sometimes you bring something home that you kinda like and end up absolutely loving it. Some of my favourite things in my house are things I wasn’t completely sure about when I was in the thrift store. There’s nothing worse than the regret of leaving something behind because you weren’t sure about it, then deciding actually I do want that thing, but it’s gone, and you’ll never find another quite like it.

If possible, go with someone who knows your likes/tastes. It’s amazing the number of times I’ve been in a thrift store with my mother or best friend, and they’ve found something I love that I hadn’t even noticed. Plus they’ll be dirty rotten enablers and encourage you to buy the thing that you love but you’re not sure you can justify to yourself.

There are a bunch of Youtubers who do thrift flips. If there’s some décor item that’s in all the stores at the moment and you love it, but can’t justify spending money on it, then it might be worth looking up to see if anyone has done a thrift flip and can give you a tutorial on how to turn a thrifted item into the hot décor items of your dreams.

Keep the cycle going. If you have stuff in your home that you no longer use/love, then donate it. If you’ve traded up and found something better but your original thing still has life in it, donate. Even if you originally bought something from a thrift store no one is gonna be mad if you send it right on back (unless you’ve used it to death, and it really should be heading for landfill).

Don’t put yourself in a box. Don’t refuse to get something because it’s not ‘your style’. What is ‘your style’? Things that you love, that make you happy. Do you love this thing? Does it make you smile? Then it’s your style. Honestly style is something that evolves organically, that grows and expands as we’re exposed to new things. If you try to follow a certain style rigidly then you’ll end up with a home that looks boring and cookie-cutter. Throw in something unexpected that speaks to you. Then throw in another of those things and another and another and pretty soon you’ll end up with a home that actually is your style – maybe you just don’t know what your style really is yet. I think of myself as very confident in my style, but I’m constantly stumbling across new things that I didn’t know I needed in my life.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[bullet-prooflove]

TornApart!Series Part Six: Family - Jubal Valentine x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @trublu2u @greenies-green @darqchilddaydreamz @proceduralpassion @burningpeachpuppy @evee87 @delightfulheroshoeflap @iworldlywriter @helsinkibaby @penguin876 @justamadgirlinabox @a-noni-love @brownskinbaby22 @oklahomapeach @yezzyyae @soultrysworld

Torn!Apart Series:

Part One: Nothing To Tell - Rina forces Jubal to make a choice.

Part Two: Pause - Jubal breaks your heart.

Part Three: One Sip - Jubal knows all it takes is one sip.

Part Four: Real Talk - Scola gets real with Jubal.

Part Five: Don't Lie to Me (NSFW) - Jubal comes clean about Rina.

Body language is important, Jubal knows that from the undercover work he’s done over the years. It’s the thing that lets most new agents down when they’re training for UC operations. He’s used to projecting strength and confidence, basic leadership principles however today he has to check himself because he knows that Rina is watching.

He pauses for a second before he steps inside 26 Fed. There can be no suspicion that he spent the night with you, no signs that he’s not the forlorn, heartbroken spectre that’s walked through the reception area these past couple of weeks.

He forces himself to forget the contented noise you made when he kissed you goodbye this morning, his hand smoothing over your hair as you lay twisted up in your sheets. It been before five and he’d needed to get back to his place to shower and change. Yesterday’s clothes would be a telltale sign, as would the scent of your shower oil. It’s little things like that can raise a red flag and he will not take a chance of compromising you.

He takes a deep breath, allowing the oxygen to fill his lungs as he adjusts the messenger bag on his shoulder. He thinks of the past few weeks, how empty his world had become, how devoid of colour. It dampens that brightness that surges through his veins at being reunited with you, pushes it down until there’s no echo of it.

He steps inside the building with his shoulders slumped and his head down, moving at his usual brisk pace. He can feel Rina’s eyes on him from the balcony above and it adds an extra weight. He thinks about everything that could go wrong, and it gives him that pinched expression, the one that indicates how stressed he is. He swipes his security pass over the machine before he passes through the turnstile and into the depths of the building.

When he reaches the JOC it’s quiet, he doesn’t expect any less. It’s too early for anyone else to be here, it’s become part of his routine in the past few weeks without you. Stay late, come in early, a way to get his mind off your absence. He has to maintain that if he wants to continue this charade for Rina.

He doesn’t realise Isobel is in, not until she opens the door to her office and indicates for him to come inside.

“Is something wrong?” He asks her taking up residence in one of the visitor’s chairs across from her desk.

“Scola informed me of your predicament.�� She tells him before sliding a file across the desk towards him.

Jubal frowns as he reaches forward and picks up the folder. He isn’t surprised that Scola got there before him, the other man is practical, proactive. The longer this goes on, the more likely it is that Jubal will slip up and you’ll pay the price for it. The two of you had talked about bringing Isobel in on the whole thing last night, there’s no love lost between her and the Acting Director, Isobel has connections the two of you don’t. It made sense.

His gaze strays to the paperwork inside of the folder. He reads through the emails, his heart wrenching as he takes in the details.

“She’s already put the transfer through.” He says as his vision starts to tunnel. It feels like the air has rushed out of the room and he can’t fucking breathe.

“I’ve spoken to S.A.C Morrison, he’s fighting it but…”

“She’s the Assistant Director.” Jubal states, his voice rough as his palm rubs over his goatee. His world is falling apart, he can feel the whole thing shifting underneath his feet.

“I’m speaking to the other heads of divisions; we’re going to appeal to the Director to have her removed due to issues with operational decisions but that takes time.” Isobel tells him.

“So, this is it?” Jubal asks her, his voice full of desperation. “Stefani gets shoved back under?”

Isobel shakes her head.

“I had a conversation with Assistant Director of the Fugitive Task Forces, we came through the academy together. She says if one of her S.A.Cs puts in a request for Stefani and her expertise as a special assignment that would delay the transfer to Undercover Operations indefinitely.”

“Special assignment takes priority over everything else.” Jubal agrees, his brain stumbles over the details. “Rina wouldn’t be able to enforce it.”

“No, she would not.” Isobel says with the ghost of a smile. “Remy Scott sent the application through this morning, his team’s been a man down since Barnes went on maternity leave. He’s been looking for someone with the right skillset to fill the role. It’ll be a bit more travel for Stefani, but she gets to stay here in New York, with you.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.” Jubal tells her as he leans forward so that he can meet Isobel’s gaze. “You have no idea what this means to me, to the both of us.”

“I do.” She tells him honestly. “What Rina’s doing to you, it isn’t fair, and I can’t sit back and let that happen. The two of you were there for me when David Owen broke into my home, I will forever be grateful for that.”

Jubal swallows hard against the ache in his chest.

“Yea well, you’re family.” He tells her. “And family looks after each other, right?”

“Yea.” Isobel says simply. “They do.”

Love Jubal? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[fatehbaz]

[I]n Latin America and the Caribbean, [a]lthough significant tracts of these forests have disappeared, their history goes well beyond the much discussed deforestation that gathered such momentum starting in the 1960s and 70s. [...] In [...] the lower Amazon River Basin, [...] [after European arrival] the extraction of natural resources for external markets got underway. These forest products, known as drogas do sertão, varied enormously: sarsaparilla, vanilla, cinnamon, manatee meat and oil, turtle shells, and feathers were among the most important. [...] [T]his trade [...] did have other environmental consequences, such as the sharp decline in turtle and manatee populations. [...]

[I]n 1750, the Caribbean coast of what is today Nicaragua also exported sarsaparilla and turtle shells in addition to mahogany. To the south, the alluvial mines of Colombia’s Pacific region became the principal source of New Granada’s gold exports during the eighteenth century, well anticipating the recent wave of mining prospecting and exploitation.

---

The extractive economy, which began timidly during the colonial period, burgeoned during the second half of the nineteenth century [...]. The industrial revolution generated demand for raw materials, some of which could be derived from rainforest plants. The rubber boom, which took place primarily in the Amazon but also extended through the forests of Central America, is the quintessential example. There were other important booms, though they tended to affect very specific regions, such as that created by the demand for tagua, or vegetable ivory - the seed of various palm trees that grow in the forests of the Pacific coast between Panama and Ecuador [the “Choco” forest ecoregion] - which was used to make buttons before the invention of plastic.

In the case of the Petén Basin of Guatemala, the tapping of chicle, once the principal ingredient in chewing gum, also illustrates how natural resource extraction restructured regions during the boom period and, following the development of industrial substitutes, dramatically declined.

In the forests of Central America’s Caribbean coast, as exemplified by the case of Belize, logging precious woods and dyewoods was of great importance. But even more significant during the first half of the twentieth century was the expansion of banana plantations in old-growth rainforests. [...]

---

Rubber tappers in the Amazon cleared trails through the forest to connect one or two hundred Hevea trees that produced white rubber, the finest on the market. Every day they collected the latex [...]. The case of black rubber, however, was quite different. This rubber was derived from the latex of the Castilla genus, which is found both in the Amazon and in the forests of the Pacific coast and Central America. But because this latex dries upon contact with the air, rubber gatherers cut down the trees to “bleed” them all at once. In short order, therefore, the population of black rubber trees declined dramatically [...]. [T]he price crash in 1913, caused by the development of rubber plantations in Asia, ended such initiatives [...]. In the wake of these colonos came the establishment of state institutions, such as municipal authorities, and national ones [...]. Starting roughly from the mid-twentieth century, the colonization of tropical forests has been associated with large-scale deforestation. [...] After the 1964 coup, the Brazilian military made the Amazon Basin strategic to their plans for national development [...]. The ideology of civilization’s triumph over an intractable nature and wild population has been instrumental in the conquest of rainforest frontiers.

---

All text by: Claudia Leal. “Rainforest Frontiers.” In: “New Environmental Histories of Latin America and the Caribbean.” Edited by Claudia Leal, Jose Augusto Padua, and John Soluri. RRC Perspectives no. 7, 51-57. 2013. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[petula-xx]

This is 4kg (8.8lb) of natural soap off cuts that arrived today. The company who makes the soaps sells these trimmed end pieces at a cheap price online.

They are all hand made, vegan, cruelty and palm oil free.

A cost effective and zero waste outcome for both the company and me. They smell amazing too by the way!

[pricevisionai]

Difference Between Commodity Market and Stock Market

The market provides a wide range of assets where people can invest their unused funds to make money. Investors seeking strong returns typically invest in either equities or commodities, which are two different asset classes. Stocks signify ownership in a corporation, whereas commodities are items like metals, energy, and agricultural products. Both of these asset groups have substantial potential for profit. They are exchanged, nonetheless, on various markets. Therefore, before investing in either, it is crucial to understand the differences between the stock market and the commodity market.

By inexperienced investors, the phrases stock market & commodity market are frequently used interchangeably. Even so, there are several key distinctions between the two that might guide your choice of investment. The distinctions between these two markets, if you're novice to investing, will become clearer as your wealth increases. Nevertheless, even seasoned investors occasionally succumb to the parallels between equities and commodities. There are certain distinctions between them, though, and we'll discuss those in this post. If you're not familiar with how the stock market operates, you might want to review the fundamentals before going any further.

Stock Exchange

It alludes to a group of stock exchanges where shares are bought, sold, and traded. As was already established, stocks represent a company's ownership. These are best understood as components of the total equity of a corporation. Each business understands only Rs. 1000 of a company's total equity if its capital is worth Rs. 1000 crores and there are 1 crore shares. One share of stock entitles the holder to only that fraction of the company's ownership.

The value of one's holding regularly varies with adjustments in the statement of financial position, driven about by a multiplicity of circumstances, both internally and externally. Depending on their investing goals, a person may decide to sell their stocks the same day they are purchased, a year later, or even 10 years later.

The stock market, which has numerous exchanges within it, is the market that makes it possible to purchase and sell. In the Indian stock market, there really are two primary stock exchanges -

●            National Stock Exchange

●            Bombay Stock Exchange

Individuals must have a trade and DEMAT account in order to invest in equities listed on either of these markets or others.

Commodity Market

It is a commodity market, as the name would imply. These products fall into two categories:

●            Hard commodities

●            Soft commodities

The former speaks of products that are mined and extracted, such as crude gold and oil. These are 2 of the most valuable and traded commodities on the planet. Rice, wheat, eggs, pigs, cattle, and other agricultural commodity and livestock items are included in the latter group. Comparatively speaking to hard goods, these often have a significantly shorter lifespan.

These products can be bought, sold, and traded in commodity markets. The trading process is one of the comparisons between commodities and stocks. The majority of dealers that trade commodities do so using futures contracts. These agreements bind the parties to carry out a transaction at the agreed-upon price and on the agreed-upon date. Futures contracts are frequently used by manufacturers and farmers as a hedge against possible losses. These, nevertheless, also serve as a remarkable tool for realising a profit.

A person may decide to invest immediately in commodities. To that goal, India has six commodity exchanges:

●            Multi Commodity Exchange (MCX)

●            Ace Derivatives Exchange (ACE)

●            The Universal Commodity Exchange (UCX)

●            National Multi Commodity Exchange (NMCE)

●            Indian Commodity Exchange (ICEX)

●            National Commodity and Derivatives Exchange (NCDEX)

What distinguishes the commodity market from the stock market?

Analyzing the influence of various economic elements on each market is crucial if one wants to clearly comprehend the differences between both the stock market or commodity market.

●            Inflation

A rising tendency in the prices of almost all items in an economy is referred to as inflation. Inflation typically happens along with rising consumer income. The former does, however, occasionally surpass the latter.

A commodity market flourishes in an inflationary environment because as raw material costs rise, a growing number of investors turn to those markets. As a result, the cost of manufactured items rises, which lowers consumption. It spirals into subpar performance across numerous industries, causing the stock market to move downward. It's one of the key distinctions between the stock market and the commodity market.

●            US dollar's value

The impact of USD on gold is extremely pronounced. The value of gold is inversely correlated to the US dollar. Typically, when the USD is performing poorly, investors look to gold as a safe haven. On the other hand, if the US currency strengthens, investors are less likely to like it.

In other instances, as in the most recent recession that shook the market in late February, this propensity for gold also correlates with such a disinterest in the stock market. Before choosing to invest in either, it is essential to understand the differences between the stock market and the commodity market. In order to make an informed choice in these marketplaces, it's crucial to analyze the possibilities available.

[foxyafroninja]

Thoughts about the 141

I normally don’t write more than just blurbs because I tend to get bogged down with details cause I’m a protectionist and never happy with anything. But every time I hear this song I get butterflies in my stomach. This is a hurt/comfort fic.

~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>

So here we go…

Song- Better Place by Rachel Platten

~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\

The soft steady ‘ humm’ from overhead fluorescent lights filled Soaps ears. It’s droning melody danced with the steady ‘beep’s from the hospital equipment. It was both a comforting sound and caused his heart to tighten in his chest painfully. This shouldn’t have happened, he should have paid more attention, should have been quicker…. Should have protected you better.

They had just stopped the missile launch off that oil rig in the Gulf. After checking that Alejandro and his team was okay and accounted for they took a half a second to congratulate each other, that’s when it happened. He was sure he had cleared the room, positive all tangos were down, but he missed one.

When all their backs were turned, as his last act of defiance the Tango had shakily leveled his gun at you and fired one last shot. Instantly, Soap, Ghost and Graves spun around and finished him but it was too late. Blood…so much blood.

The ���woosh’ of the hospital room door opening brought him back from his thoughts. Soaps muscles instantly snapped taught ready to spring from his chair. Upon his tired eyes verifying the intruders as Alejandro and Price his body went lax again, settling back into his seat.

Nothing was said at first, Alejandro placed another bundle of flowers on the table of ever growing gifts and then took his place at the foot of the bed. Price made his way to Soap, placing a strong hand on the young man’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Just’ chatted with the Doc,” Price spoke softly, “ Aur’ girls autt’a the woods, just’ hav’ to wait’ for her to wake up.”

Soap didn’t reply, simply nodded his head, not taking his eyes off you.

“Hermano,” Alejandro pushed, trying to get Soaps attention. “it’s not your fault, Okay? It was an accident.”

A hard look washed over Soaps face. Again, not taking his eyes of you, he growled under his breath. “ Aye, but Ah should’av been paying’ attention, should’av checked better, they’re in ‘at bed coz a me.”

“ Son, yau can’t’ keep blaming yaurself. Thes’ things happen.” Price sighed patting him on the shoulder. “ Yau eaten today?”

Soap shook his head again. Price clapped him on the shoulder one more time saying he and Alejandro would grab him something from the caf’ before they exited just quietly as they had entered.

Soap shifted his seat closer to you, gently took your hand in his and places a soft kiss on your knuckles. Bowing his head, feeling tears prick the corner of his eyes, he pressed is forehead into your hand, whispering sweet nothings and apologies.

The first thing you felt was itchy bedsheets. Hospitals were never known for their comfortable bedding. The second thing was someone holding your hand in theirs. Your eye’s fluttered, then squinted against the overhead lights at first but they quickly adjusted and settled off the figure clutching your hand,head bowed.

“Johnny”

Your voice was rough and scratchy. John’s name came out in more of a strained croak than anything that sounded like you.

Soap’s head nearly flew off his shoulders it snapped up so quickly. His slightly bloodshot teary eyes wide with shock. He sat frozen in place for a second before timidly reaching to cup your cheek, afraid if he moved too fast you just disappear before him.

His calloused warm hand felt good on your skin. You turned to place a kiss to his palm before looking back at him. Soap couldn’t wait any longer and , careful of your wounds, launched himself at you planting kisses over your cheeks, nose and forehead, before landing a long loft kiss on your lips.

“I’m so sorry, lass. I’m sorry Ah let this happen. I’m sorry I’m sorry~” He continued to mumble against your mouth. Gently, you placed your hands on either side of his head and nudged him to move back so you could see his whole face.

The face of a physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted man looked back at you. Tears still stood in his eyes, waiting to be shed. You used your thumb to gingerly wipe them away, pressed your foreheads together, eyes closed and cooed softly.

“I’m alright, everything’s alright . You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I thought I lost ya’. ” Soap smiled nuzzling into you lightly.

“Never baby, not now not ever.” You whispered to him, guiding him to climb onto the small bed and settle in near to you.

Being extremely careful not to jostle you too much, Soap moved around to have your head tucked against his chest and his arms securely wrapped around you, trailing his fingers up and down your arm. Eventually your eyes closed and Soap was left alone again with the soft steady ‘beep’ of the medical machines. But now there was no tightness in his chest, just the feeling of you.

===========================

Well it’s my first big post done and over. A huge thank you to @multi-fandom-imagine for taking the time to beta read this for me. I hope you guys enjoyed it as well.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Fried Chicken Day 

Make your own, or gather your friends and family around a big bucket of your favorite fried chicken and indulge in the greasy, meaty, tasty goodness.

The bird gets the spotlight on National Fried Chicken Day, and stomachs are rumbling already. Move over vegetarians, there’s a deep-fried chicken leg and breast coming this way!

Learn about National Fried Chicken Day

Fried chicken, otherwise known as Southern fried chicken, is a dish that features different chicken pieces that have been coated in a seasoned batter. After which, they are either pressure fried, deep-fried, or pan-fried. The breading creates a crisp crust or coating to the exterior of the meat while ensuring the juices are kept inside. Broiler chickens are most commonly used.

There is no denying that fried chicken is one of the best and most popular types of comfort food enjoyed all around the world. It may be greasy, but it is indulgent and very tasty! Today, we are able to enjoy this dish for a very cheap price, and it does not matter where in the world you go, you will be able to enjoy fried chicken on the menu! However, this was not always the case. In fact, fried chicken was deemed an expensive delicacy until the Second World War. However, thanks to mass production techniques, this is no longer the case! Phew!

There are a number of reasons why we all love National Fried Chicken Day. Of course, the main reason is that we have the perfect excuse to eat as much fried chicken as we want and we don’t have to feel guilty about it! It is also a dish whereby your manners can go out of the window.

There is no need to use a knife and fork when you are tucking into fried chicken! You can also get many different varieties of fried chicken to select from today. This includes everything from extra crispy to spicy fried chicken. Friend chicken can also be cooked in many different varieties of oil. This includes peanut oil, lard, vegetable shortening, and much more!

There are a lot of different variants of fried chicken that have been released. This includes hot chicken, which is common in the Tennessee area of Nashville. This is a variant that is pan-fried and is coated with a cayenne pepper and lard paste. Popcorn chicken has also become very popular. This can also be referred to as chicken bits. These are small, ball-shaped pieces of boneless chicken. They are battered and fried, resulting in a dish that looks like popcorn, hence the name! Or, what about Barberton chicken? This was created by immigrants from Serbia in Barberton, Ohio. the dish is now very popular throughout the state and it is sometimes called Serbian Fried Chicken.

Another reason why it is important to pay tribute on National Fried Chicken Day is that this dish had very humble beginnings. In fact, it acted as a way of empowering slaves. They were able to make their own independent flow of money by selling it. As chickens were the only animals that slaves were allowed to own and raise, this dish became very popular before the Civil War broke out.

History of National Fried Chicken Day

In order to really understand the history of this day, we need to understand the history of fried chicken. A lot of people are surprised to learn that this is a type of food that can be dated as far back as Roman Times. This is because there was a recipe for deep-fried chicken in Apicius, which was a Roman cookbook from the 4th century. The dish was called Pullum Frontonianum.

In terms of the expression “fried chicken” itself, this has been traced back to the 1830s. You will see this term used regularly throughout the cookbooks that were released in America during the 1860as and the 1870s. In the southern states of the United States, this dish can be traced back to precedents in West African and Scottish cuisine.

The fried chicken from West Africa involved the chicken being seasoned, battered, and then cooked in palm oil. The Scottish version involved the chicken being cooked in fat, however, it was not seasoned. As mentioned earlier, it was also a way for segregated and enslaved people to make money independently.

National Fried Chicken Day has been observed yearly for quite some time now. On this day, fried chicken is prepared and cooked in a number of different ways. Some fried chicken restaurants will have promotions running on this date. This includes the likes of KFC and Church’s Chicken. We have also seen that this date is celebrated across the world now as well.

For example, in Australia, in 2018, KFC gave people the chance to win free fried chicken for an entire year. In order to enter the contest, you were required to make a post on social media that stated the different reasons why you deserved to be the winner of this tasty prize! The person who won the prize was a 19-year-old who got the KFC logo tattooed on her foot. Her friend did the same as well, so let’s hope they shared the fried chicken!

How to celebrate National Fried Chicken Day

There are a lot of different ways that you can celebrate National Fried Chicken Day. Of course, heading to your favorite fried chicken restaurant is the perfect way to ensure that this day is a success. You can grab some of your friends and loved ones and tuck into your favorite bucket of chicken.

If you are feeling a little bit adventurous and you want to make sure that you enjoy the best of the best, you need to be the chef of the kitchen! Why not have a go at creating your own friend chicken creation? There are lots of great recipes on the Internet today, so you can easily find one to follow!

To add more pizzazz to the day, coat the legendary southern food in spices and yell “Yeehaw!” Cover the chicken with a mixture of cayenne pepper, garlic powder and paprika to put the spring back in the step. A little hot sauce? Sure, let’s go all out! Serve the mouth-watering fried food with chicken gravy to up the yum-factor even more.

Pair the succulent bird with waffles for a classic combo. Or, why not make chicken the star of the show and add a tasty side dish? Lip-smacking sides include buttermilk biscuits, cold potato salad or coleslaw. With fried chicken on the plate, the taste is sure to taste clucking good!

You could become everyone’s favorite person on National Fried Chicken Day by treating your co-workers to some fried chicken. All you need to do is order a few family-sized buckets and you will put a big smile on everyone’s face. This is definitely the best way to give your chances of being Employee of the Month a boost!

Source

[whisperthatruns]

The Long Labors

My grandmother said it was going to be long—as long as you can hold your lineage—depending on how long you can hold your tongue—as long as your tongue can wrap around the pit—of some stolen stone fruit—as long as you can hide your pitter-patter face—glued in sun-split splinters—lengthening shadows as long as your face—longing to be mirrored back—back to your daughter your mother your grandmother—freckle by freckle—furnished forever across—the long loaming haul—                     Collapsed in a pool of spit—my mouth over papers—raccoon doctorate—luxurious loser with thin branch fingers—no meat in the palm—no muscle in the bending—the farmer in me is atrophying—the cook the factory seamstress the clerk the mother in me is pooling out—all that I come from—all that I owe to them—what is left of me—what is—me: professorial rat—book-leavened and maddened in meetings—chewing at my desk on a frozen anything—microwave spun and splattered on lessons—wondering who packaged this—who spooned this glacial sauce into this plastic hull—whose hands whose daughter does she look like me does she like dancing in the gloaming—funneled into my greedy mouth—I: daughter of long labors—I: knock-off half-price guilt—I: impossible imposter big words big words—trying to prove what—and to whom—I wait to be seated at a restaurant—a white person enters and orders from me—“I want sweet and sour chicken but without bell peppers and brown rice”—and I almost take it down—                     In the twelfth hour of night-shift overtime—my mother gobbles the air of the facility—mouth opening a cavern or a bowhead whale or a sinkhole—gobbling up its oxygen its nitrogen its argon its skin its hair dust its swirling smog—collecting time collecting benefits—her eyes so baggy they carry a leaking pack of chicken breasts—she had planned to cook tonight for us—but look at the break room clock she is out of time and now—they will surely go bad—what a waste at $1.50 a pound—she returns to her station rubs tiger balm and lavender oil along her wrists and hands—chews dried ginger to keep awake—the root of herself sharpening salivating—reapplies pink lipstick swivels the tube upward—rituals of resilience—feeds letters to machines churning intestinal noise—electricity bills and love letters and baby photos and magazines ladies who lunch will take to the salon and credit card limited-time offers and reminders from the dentist and supermarket weeklies and postcards from Oahu—“you wouldn’t believe how blue the water how restful how peaceful bring the whole family next time”—ginger chew ginger chew—                     Who made this for you—do you know the song that reminds them of home—do you know to play the radio as loud as you can and roll down the windows and smack your cheeks ten times in order to stay awake for the drive—do you know who sewed on this button—do you know the murmuring leg ache from standing all day a tree for whom—do you know who processed the letter you received today—fed it into a machine with paper cuts as wide as a river you could float in—do you know how long you can hold your urine until your 15-minute break—the roiling pressure in the abdomen the tick-tap of the feet the hands—how much to tip the gas station attendant in Jersey how the smell sticks behind both earlobes—the temperature when flipping a wok the oil burns the white paper hat measuring salt at the brim—how your impatient face resembles a slowly rotting peach—worms in the snarl—do you know the name of  your fishmonger the name of  my uncle—the times he snuck in a call to say he will be late picking up his daughter fish scales glittered to his elbows like opera gloves—do you know cuticles peeling white like flecks of cod after washing dishes—do you know the smell of nail polish remover stinging bees in your nostrils—do you know the back—how the back curls how the back bridges how the back puckers and crunches—like packed snow no one else but you will shovel out—I look up how labor is used in a sentence—“the obvious labor”—“immigrants provided a source of cheap labor”—“negotiations between labor and management”—“wants the vote of labor in the elections”—“the flood destroyed the labor of years”—“industry needs labor for production”—anthropocene capitalism gentrification—what do these words mean—and to whom—helping my mother over the sink—I snip the ends of long beans 豆角 with kitchen shears—the ends rolling away—green lizard tails—I cut away each word like a long bean—gentrificat—gentrif—gen—ge—g—glugging the g—down the drain—                     If only lying on a beach—limbs loosened like an old garden hose—if only watching the movements of our stomachs—rising and falling like baby jellyfish—our thighs waxing and waning—in bristle-rough sand if only—reading a book the pages—wrinkled and curled like a snail shell—from falling asleep against our faces—if only devouring a cloud—full of no rain no metallic muscle if—only softness if only we—went off in the softness—into the downy relaxing abyss—what is this word—vacation—my grandmother asks me chili hitting the wok like delicious dying stars—                     My grandmother said it was going to be long—going out the door always late for work—shirt inside out—said go on and bounce a howling baby (my mother/me/et al)—while skimming oxtail broth—the fat sheen of look how well we eat in this country—lest you forget it was worth it—lest you forget—the dilation of the cervix going the contractions going the grip the placenta the shit the vernix the garbled life going the soft flashlight eyes the milk the teeth the nails the hand on heart the soup coagulating on the stove—you must go—for what gleams in the dark turns to look at you—remember this—                     The work and the afterwork and the work of being perceived as not doing enough work though you are working well over enough—will this ever be enough—when is enough enough—the chorus now: not until the knots of fat—melt in this wok—not until you have nothing left but this suet—this smear of high-heat lineage—gleaming in the gloaming—and it is yours and it is mine and it is your dream daughter’s and it will last longer than you will ever believe—believe us—

Jane Wong, How to Not Be Afraid of Everything (Alice James Books, 2021)

[thewarriorspecial]

Alright so:

@hobicat suggested an office AU. I don’t work in an office. I work in a dreaded grocery store. So this is a slice of that. And you know, my insanity. Huzzah!

Also included a delightful Ke$ha detail for @kiseiakhun.

This is completely unedited and typed on my phone.

Welcome to Zippys

The only universe in which Barry Allen is fucking evil.

There be dragons at the end of the world. And there be Evil Barry. Deific powers. An unsettling craving for violence fueled by too many years of passive aggressively accepting spoonfuls of shit from middle aged women who felt entitled to discounts. Just because, no explanation really.

One day Evil Barry, who used to be Fake Nice Barry until a middle aged white bitch told him to “go back where he came from” because she didn’t like his accent, was nudged over the edge.

Evil Barry grabbed that haughty bitch by her early aughts bob and threw her through a plate glass window.

You see, the whole thing started because there was a sale on ribs. Barry was Summoned to the front of the store from the Dairy aisle where he had been cleaning up all the overpriced eggs an Elderly Karen had dropped on the floor in protest of ever rising prices. Elderly Karen’s rage was understandable. She’s on a fixed income. When Fake Nice Barry was once young and Actually Nice, he would’ve given her the eggs at a discount. Or for free even if he could find a way to manage it.

Nonetheless here comes the page. So Barry pastes a cordial if somewhat tired smile on his face and asks Meat Karen how he can help her. And it starts. The torrent of personal accusations. The list of made up sins the whole store had committed against her specifically.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he gently explains, “Our meat manager had a family emergency and since he’s our only trained meat cutter on the team, he wasn’t able to cut enough of those ribs for the sale today. He or a replacement from another store will be in tomorrow to get us caught up. May I take your name and make sure a special order is reserved for you?”

“Well how does that help me today? I need them today. They’re on sale today! I specifically made a thirty minute drive over here just for those and I’m supposed to come back? I have to make two trips now because of your incompetence??”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Barry forces a steady tone, “What could do I do for you instead that would be more respectful of your time?”

“Have the shit in the store when you put it in the ad! You always do this! You lure people in here, nothing is stocked, everything is dirty! Do you get kickbacks from the oil people to make us drive more? Is that why you built that gas station? It smells! You cut down all those trees and stink up the whole neighborhood with your lies!!”

Barry had tried to answer her accusations as they came up but was stopped each time as she shoved her extended palm in his face, the universal symbol for Im not finished screaming at you yet.

And finally, after countless shifts, after countless hours of meaningless blocking and cleaning, and ordering and stocking and monotonous enduring—Barry snapped. An evil was unleashed in him so unbalanced it ripped a hole in the multiverse and created Zippys.

It is said that the lightning crack of every justified strike, every open hand, every Twisted Tea laid upon a Karen or Kevin results in immediate transmission to the store where you can check out anytime you like but you just respawn in the cart laden vestibule.

When that bitch got launched through the glass, her indignant shriek followed by the shattering glass each hit perfectly in time to the chorus of Keshas Tik Tok.

Meistro? Cue it up please.

Tik Tok on the clock but the party don’t—

“Stop! AGH!!”

Oh woah oh oh

Crash

Oh woah oh oh

A red streak appears next to Barry who’s still frozen in perfect pitcher form.

“Oh SHIT!” Wally cackles like a witch, ripping his cell phone out of his hoodie pocket and leaping after the woman. “World star!! World star!!”

[palmoilnews]

ICE canola futures fall as Trump threatens tariffs CHICAGO, Nov 26 (Reuters) - ICE canola futures took a dip on Tuesday as U.S. President-elect Donald Trump announced he would pursue tariffs against goods imported to the U.S. from Canada. "The sell-off has been emotional, with panic long liquidation and fund selling applying the pressure. We are unsure whether the lower prices will trigger panic farmer selling," said one trader on Tuesday. Dustin Gabor, head of GrainShark, noted that palm oil and soybean oil remained strong, even though canola often follows those commodities. "Canola is trading with its own mind today," Gabor said. Traders said there is concern that Trump's tariffs could mean Canada's canola exports would be replaced by U.S. soyoil in the biodiesel market, if enacted. January canola RSF5 settled down $2.40 at $585.00 per metric ton. March canola RSH5 closed down $11.70 at $594.20. Chicago Board of Trade soybean futures Sv1 lost 2-1/4 U.S. cents to close at $9.83-1/2, while soyoil futures BOv1 gained 1.38 U.S. cents to settle at 42.71 cents per pound. Malaysian palm oil futures FCPOc3 gained 0.21%. *All figures in Canadian dollars unless noted