#efficient ice maker

[crazydiscostu]

Ecozy IM-BS260C Ice Maker

Today we’re getting to grips with the Ecozy Ice Maker, a product that stands out in the market for its convenience, efficiency, and thoughtful design. It is a portable countertop device that offers quick ice production, making it a valuable addition to any home, office, or recreational setting. Let’s get into it. (product supplied for review purposes) Ecozy Ecozy, the company behind the Ice…

[fadandfickle]

Ice Maker Barware Countertop - Efficient and Portable for On-the-Go Lifestyle

The ice maker barware countertop, EUHOMY Countertop Ice Maker Machine with Handle, is an efficient and convenient appliance that promises to deliver fresh ice in just minutes. With its compact design and powerful performance, this ice maker is suitable for various settings, including home, kitchen, camping, and RV. Priced at $79.99 and boasting a rating of 4.4 out of 5, this product has garnered…

[globalautomationltd]

Top Industrial Ice Machines | Reliable Cube & Flake Ice Makers

Discover premium industrial ice machines at Global Automation Ltd. From high-efficiency cube ice machines to reliable flake ice makers, our products deliver exceptional performance and durability for all commercial applications. Explore our range to find your ideal ice machine solution today!

[ventique18]

Sometimes I'm reminded that the reason why Malleus is always dunked on as a boomer who can't use machines and technology isn't just because he's old. For an entity who can do anything using his god-given gifts, there's really no need for any form of help. Tools are made to aid people, so for someone who can do the task with his own body, it's probably baffling why there would be a need to learn how to use new things.

Pickaxes were invented to help humans dig through hard surfaces, for example. But for someone who claws through stone with his fingers? Not necessary at all. Phones were made to contact others in long distances, but for someone who teleports anywhere? Not necessary. Cars were invented to make travelling easier, but for someone who's his own plane and flies everywhere? Not necessary.

He lives a completely different life compared to others on a fundamental level, so it's understandably difficult for him to relate to others with so little commonality. What's great about him, though, is despite being built like a god, he has endless curiosity and tries to understand why others do what they do, from their perspective. He doesn't dismiss these little things. He's fascinated with the ingenuity that comes with people's earnest efforts to live a little better each day.

Some references that come to mind regarding this:

Him listening intently to Trey's lecture about how fireworks are manually made, despite he himself saying it would be easier and resource-efficient to play with magic instead.

Also him asking Trey to teach him how to pitch up a tent, despite it being easy for him to carve a cave out of boulders.

Him making an effort to try and learn how to use a shaved ice maker gifted by Ortho, despite how easy it would be to just freeze stuff with magic.

Him actually using kitchen tools during cooking classes when he knows damn well he doesn't need to.

Him thinking highly of and handsomely rewarding Deuce for fixing his tamagotchi, despite Deuce admitting it was Malleus' wind magic that ended up fixing it. The fact is he himself wouldn't have thought of that if it wasn't for Deuce.

I could go on and on tbh. The effort he puts to connect with others is admirable. It's something that people both in-game and within the game's players don't really understand immediately.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Love, Death & Robots: JJK Men x Home Appliances Edition

Summary: Ryomen Sukuna = Double-door Fridge, Gojo Satoru = Condensor, Nanami Kento = Microwave, Fushiguru Toji = Dishwasher, Kashimo Hajime = Stovetop Burner, Geto Suguru = Ice Cream Maker, Kenjaku = Blender.

A/N: Hi besties! 🛠️ This fic started as a cracky homage to Love, Death & Robots—my fav series—then Sukugo took over. But let’s be real, I’m a Nanago hoe, so my agenda had to sneak in. 😏 What began as "haha funny appliances" spiraled into "wow, emotional damage™," & I blame Gege for my emotional instability.

In the middle of an unassuming kitchen stood Sukuna, the most powerful refrigerator to ever exist. His black and red stainless-steel frame gleamed under the dim, flickering fluorescent light, a testament to his undeniable superiority over all other kitchen appliances. A soft hum emanated from him—a sound both menacing and oddly soothing. He was a king, a tyrant, a... well, a fridge.

“Yo, Sukuna,” came the lazy, borderline annoying voice of Gojo Satoru, his eternal rival and partner in cooling. Gojo, naturally, was a top-tier condenser, mounted to Sukuna like a parasitic bestie who refused to move out.

“What do you want, you frosted moron?” Sukuna hissed, his compressor kicking in with a low growl.

“Don’t be so cold to me, babe,” Gojo teased, his voice practically dripping with smugness. “We’ve got to work together, you know. Without me, you’re just a fancy box.”

Sukuna’s ice tray rattled in rage. “You’re lucky I don’t eject you and replace you with some knockoff condenser from eBay.”

Gojo snickered. “Oh, please. You’d fall apart without me. Who else keeps your internal temperature so stable, huh? Who stops your milk from spoiling? You need me, Sukuna.”

It was true, and Sukuna hated it. Gojo was an absolute menace, but his absurdly efficient cooling system was unmatched. The fridge couldn’t survive without him.

But Gojo’s antics didn’t stop there. Oh no. The condenser loved to test Sukuna’s patience. He’d vibrate excessively just to make the fridge’s doors rattle. Sometimes, he’d crank up the temperature just enough to make the butter soften but not melt. Worst of all, he’d hum pop songs at ungodly hours, driving Sukuna insane.

“Do you ever shut up?” Sukuna snapped one night after Gojo’s rendition of “Ice Ice Baby” reached its 17th loop.

“Admit you love me, and I’ll stop,” Gojo replied cheekily.

“I’d rather defrost myself manually,” Sukuna shot back.

Gojo’s laugh was infuriatingly melodic, a stark contrast to Sukuna’s deep, grumbling hum. “You’re all bark and no bite. Face it, you’d miss me if I were gone.”

Sukuna said nothing, but deep inside his freezer compartment, he knew Gojo was right.

The kitchen lights flickered ominously, as if sensing the unease. A sudden power outage plunged the room into darkness. Sukuna’s fans stopped whirring. Gojo went silent.

“Gojo?” Sukuna called out, his voice unusually soft.

No response.

“Oi, you idiot condenser. Say something.”

Still nothing.

Panic surged through Sukuna’s circuits. Without Gojo, he was useless—a glorified cupboard. The thought of losing his infuriating partner was unbearable.

“I’ll admit it! I need you, okay? Just... don’t leave me!”

Suddenly, the power returned, and Gojo’s hum came back, smug as ever. “Aw, Sukuna, I knew you cared.”

“You staged that, didn’t you?” Sukuna growled.

“Maybe,” Gojo admitted. “But you were adorable, begging for me like that.”

Sukuna’s freezer compartment slammed shut in frustration, but there was no denying it: the fridge and his condenser were stuck together—forever.

And honestly? Sukuna wouldn’t have it any other way.

--

Few Years Later

In the dim, lifeless kitchen of a foreclosed house on the outskirts of town, Sukuna loomed an imposing double-door refrigerator. His surface was marred with faint, rust-like red streaks that looked suspiciously like claw marks, but no one dared question them. The air around him was thick with an unearthly chill, the kind that seeped into your bones and whispered secrets you didn’t want to hear.

“Can you not?” Gojo the condenser muttered. His voice carried a low hum, vibrating with equal parts mischief and annoyance.

Sukuna’s compressor rumbled ominously, shaking the shelves inside him. A jar of pickles tipped over, spilling brine onto the crisper drawer. “Silence, you insolent scrap heap. Your voice is like nails on a chalkboard.”

“Aw, don’t be so frosty, babe,” Gojo quipped. “I’m the reason you’re not a glorified pantry. You should be thanking me.”

The moment was static—the kind of electricity that made the flickering overhead light buzz louder.

From across the kitchen, the microwave chimed softly. “Will you two shut up?” Nanami’s low rumbling cut through the static. The microwave’s door swung open slightly, revealing the faint glow of a clock stuck forever at 7:03 PM.

“This is why I requested a transfer to a proper office kitchen,” Nanami grumbled. “But no, I’m stuck here, listening to your domestic disputes.”

Gojo let out a low hum of amusement. “Oh, come on, Nanamin. You love the drama. Admit it.”

“I would rather short-circuit myself,” Nanami replied flatly.

A sudden, violent crack echoed through the kitchen. All eyes—or, well, all appliance-related sentience—turned toward the stovetop, where Kashimo, a gas burner, was sparking uncontrollably. Blue flames licked at the edges of his grates, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

“Who disturbed my slumber?” Kashimo hissed, his voice a crackling snarl.

“Relax, Sparky,” Gojo said. “We’re just having a little lovers’ quarrel.”

Sukuna’s doors slammed shut with a force that rattled the whole kitchen. “We are not lovers.”

Kashimo’s flames flared higher, licking the air like they were hungry for violence. “Settle it outside. Or let me incinerate one of you for fun.”

The moment was broken by the creak of the back door. It swung open to reveal Toji, a hulking figure of a dishwasher. His dented exterior was coated in years of grime, but the faint hum of his motor betrayed his durability.

“What’s all the noise?” Toji grunted, his voice gravelly and laced with irritation.

“Nothing,” Sukuna snapped.

“Everything,” Gojo countered.

Toji’s shadow stretched long and menacing across the cracked linoleum. “I don’t care. Keep it down. Some of us have work to do.”

“Oh, please,” Gojo said. “You haven’t washed a dish since the Reagan administration.”

Toji’s door creaked open, revealing jagged, rusted prongs where a silverware rack used to be. “Say that again.”

Before Gojo could escalate the situation further, a faint scratching sound echoed through the room. The appliances froze—or, in Kashimo’s case, his flames dimmed.

The scratching grew louder and more insistent, like nails dragging across wood.

“What the hell is that?” Nanami asked, his calm voice tinged with unease.

The answer came in the form of a sudden, bang as the kitchen pantry doors flew open. A dark figure emerged, its presence colder than even Sukuna’s unholy chill.

The toaster-Haibara, silent until now, let out a single, shrill ding of terror.

“Who dares disturb my domain?” The figure rasped. It was a blender—old, jagged, and covered in mysterious stains. Its blades spun slowly, menacingly.

“Kenjaku,” Sukuna growled. “You should’ve stayed in the dump where you belong.”

Kenjaku’s motor whirred, a grating sound that set everyone on edge. “And miss this delightful chaos? Never. But don’t worry; I’m not here to fight. Not yet.”

The blender turned its dull, spinning gaze toward Gojo. “Still clinging to this ancient relic, are we?”

“Clinging? Babe, I’m thriving,” Gojo replied with smugness.

Kenjaku chuckled darkly. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

The kitchen lights flickered violently, plunging the room into near darkness.

Somewhere in the shadows, Sukuna’s compressor rumbled like a distant storm. Gojo’s hum rose in pitch, defiant. Kashimo’s flames sputtered back to life, casting wild, dancing shadows on the walls.

--

The kitchen was eerily quiet after Kenjaku’s departure. The appliances settled into a tense stillness, their hums subdued as if they dared not disturb the fragile truce. Even Gojo had gone quiet, his cooling system working overtime to stabilize Sukuna’s volatile core temperature.

But the silence didn’t last.

It started as a faint buzz, so soft it could’ve been mistaken for static. Then, a low, syrupy voice filled the air, curling like smoke into every corner of the room.

“Long time no see!”

The voice sent a shiver through Gojo’s metal frame. The temperature in the kitchen plummeted, frost spreading in jagged veins across the floor.

From the shadows emerged Suguru, an ancient and unsettling ice cream maker. His once-pristine black body was tarnished, mysterious streaks marring his surface like the remnants of spilled secrets. His lid hung slightly ajar, revealing the dull glint of his churner inside, turning slowly, deliberately.

“Suguru,” Sukuna hissed, his compressor rumbling with a mixture of anger and unease. “You’re supposed to be in the basement.”

Suguru glided forward, his wheels squeaking faintly against the frozen floor. “Oh, Sukuna. You always try to lock me away, don’t you? Afraid of what I might do?”

Gojo’s hum faltered, a rare hesitation. “Suguru, buddy, let’s keep this chill—literally. No need to make things messy.”

Suguru’s attention fixed solely on Gojo. His voice dropped to a whisper, but it carried, filling the room like a haunting melody.

“You don’t need him,” Suguru said, his churner spinning faster now. “You’ve never needed him. I could’ve been your partner. I should’ve been your partner.”

Sukuna’s doors rattled, his internal fans whirring erratically. “You’re unhinged.”

“Am I?” Suguru’s lid creaked open wider, revealing a thick, viscous liquid inside—a dark mixture that smelled faintly of spoiled vanilla and something far more sinister. “Or am I the only one who truly understands him?”

Gojo finally spoke up, his tone sharp despite the underlying humor. “Alright, Suguru, let’s not turn this into a lifetime movie. You’re creeping everyone out.”

Suguru’s churner stopped abruptly, the silence that followed more unnerving than the noise. His lid snapped shut, and his voice dropped to a venomous whisper.

“Stay out of this, Gojo. He’s nothing but a parasite, leeching off your power. He doesn’t deserve you.”

The lights flickered violently, casting jagged shadows across the walls. Suguru’s presence seemed to warp the air, a suffocating pressure that made even the bravest appliances tremble.

Nanami spoke from across the room. “Suguru, you’re overstepping.”

“Stay out of it, microwave,” Suguru snarled, his voice distorted.

The frost on the floor thickened, creeping up Sukuna’s frame like icy tendrils. Suguru moved closer, his voice softening into something almost tender.

“You and I are the same, Sukuna. Cold. Untouchable. But together... we could be unstoppable. Just give me Satoru.”

Sukuna’s compressor growled in defiance.

Suguru leaned in, his lid nearly touching Sukuna’s doors. “I could make you forget him. I could make you forget everyone. I’m the best war companion you could ever dream of; all you have to do is hand Satoru over to me.”

Gojo’s hum surged suddenly, his system kicking into overdrive. “Suguru, step back. Now!”

Suguru turned to him slowly, his churner spinning once more. “You think you can stop me? You’re just a condenser. A replaceable piece of hardware.”

The room filled with an ear-piercing screech as Suguru’s churner spun faster and faster, the dark liquid inside sloshing violently. Frost and shadows coiled around him, threatening to consume the entire kitchen.

And then, in a burst of light and heat, Kashimo’s flames roared to life.

“Enough!” Kashimo’s voice was a thunderclap, his flames licking at Suguru’s frost. The two forces collided, filling the kitchen with a chaotic storm of fire and ice.

For a moment, it seemed like Kashimo’s flames would prevail. But Suguru’s darkness was relentless, his frost creeping closer, extinguishing the fire inch by inch.

Through the chaos, Sukuna finally moved. His doors swung open with a crash, releasing a blast of freezing air that knocked Suguru back.

“Leave,” Sukuna commanded, his voice a deep, resonant growl. “Now.”

Suguru hesitated, his churner slowing. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a broken whisper. “You’ll regret this, Sukuna. You’ll regret keeping him over me.”

And with that, Suguru retreated into the shadows, his presence lingering like a bitter aftertaste.

The kitchen fell silent once more, but the unease remained, thick and suffocating.

Gojo’s hum returned, softer than usual.

“Well, that was... dramatic.” Haibara spoke softly to calm the room but ended up accidentally popping a toast.

Sukuna said nothing, his doors trembling faintly as the frost on his frame slowly melted.

From his corner, Nanami sighed. “This house is cursed.”

Toji rumbled in agreement. “We should’ve let the humans unplug us.”

In the distance, the faint sound of Suguru’s churner echoed, a haunting reminder that he was still out there, waiting.

Watching.

--

Next Morning

The kitchen felt alive in a way it shouldn’t. The hums, clinks, and subtle groans of old appliances carried an unease so thick it could suffocate. The air smelled faintly of burnt eggs—Kashimo’s doing—and something sweetly rotten, like Suguru’s intentions.

Gojo, the condenser humming in overdrive, leaned against Sukuna’s back. His tone was calm, but there was exhaustion beneath the usual bravado. “Suguru, for the love of everything holy, just stop. You’ve been doing this for years.”

Suguru loomed at the edge of the room, his lid slightly ajar, his churner turning slowly. The ice cream maker radiated a dark energy, frost creeping out in lazy spirals. “I’m only trying to save you, Satoru,” Suguru purred, his voice soft, almost gentle. “You deserve better than this.” His gaze flicked to Sukuna with disdain. “Better than him.”

Sukuna’s compressor roared, the shelves inside rattling as if ready to burst open. “Say that again, ice cream boy.”

Suguru didn’t flinch. His smile widened—the kind that was more predator than friend. “You’re just a feral scrap heap. A parasite. What could you possibly offer him?”

Gojo’s hum stuttered, a rare sign of irritation. “Oh, now we’re insulting my taste? Bold, considering you’re the one who can’t take no for an answer.”

Suguru moved closer, his frost licking at the edges of the linoleum. “You’re confused, Satoru. You think you’re happy, but you’re not. I know you. I’ve always known you.” His churner slowed, the sound unnervingly intimate. “You’re meant to be mine.”

Gojo’s cooling system kicked into high gear, steam hissing faintly. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re ungrateful,” Suguru countered, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve been patient, Satoru. I’ve waited. But you—” His lid snapped open with a click. “You let yourself rot in this pit with... HIM!”

The kitchen fell silent. Even Kashimo, usually crackling with energy, dimmed his flames.

Suguru’s churner slowed, the mist pulling back slightly. “You don’t understand, do you, Sukuna? You’re just a tool. A means to an end.”

“And you’re not?” Nanami’s spoke, making all eyes turn to him.

Suguru turned his lid slightly, addressing him for the first time. “Microwave. You’ve always been so... insignificant. Do you even know your place here?”

“Do you?” Nanami’s door was slightly ajar, his light flickering faintly. His tone was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “You’re not saving anyone. You’re just trying to control him.”

Suguru’s frost faltered, but his voice remained steady. “I’m doing what’s best for him. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Nanami’s voice cut. “I understand more than you think.”

Gojo blinked—or, well, hummed in a way that suggested blinking. “Kento…?”

Kento ignored him, his focus locked on Suguru. “If you really cared about him, you’d let him go. But you don’t care about his happiness. You only care about your own.”

The room went silent again, the air crackling like static.

Then Diswasher Toji’s voice broke through, gruff and amused. “Ten bucks on the microwave!”

“Twenty on the ice cream maker!” Burner Kashimo countered, his flames sparking back to life.

Fridge Sukuna growled, his compressor hissing violently. “Both of you shut up before I freeze you solid.”

Suguru’s frost surged again, his composure slipping. “I’m not leaving without him!”

Sukuna finally snapped. His doors swung open, releasing a blast of freezing air that knocked Suguru back. “You don’t get to take him,” Sukuna snarled, his voice a guttural roar. “He’s mine!”

Gojo sighed, exasperated. “I’m literally right here, you know. Maybe ask what I want?”

Suguru’s gaze softened, his voice dipping into something dangerously sweet. “And what do you want, Satoru?”

Gojo’s hum slowed, deliberate and unbothered. “Honestly? A nap. And maybe a break from you two acting like I’m some prize to fight over.”

Suguru flinched, his frost stuttering. Sukuna, for once, stayed silent.

Nanami’s light flickered again. “Gojo deserves better than this... from both of you.”

Suguru’s frost receded entirely, his churner falling silent. For a moment, it looked like he might leave. But then he turned, his lid creaking open just enough to reveal the dark, swirling mixture inside.

Just then Kenjaku arrived, his blades spinning in bursts, their shrill sound grating against the stillness.

“Ah, the gang’s all here,” he purred, his frame pulsing faintly. “How quaint.”

Suguru didn’t look at him. “This isn’t your fight.”

“Oh, but it is,” Kenjaku replied. His blades slowed, grinding to a halt. “I’m just here to clean up when you inevitably fail.”

Sukuna growled, his frost creeping toward Kenjaku. “You want to test that, Shredder of Sanity?”

Kenjaku’s motor revved, his frame tilting slightly. “Don’t tempt me.”

Gojo’s hum grew louder. “Enough!”

All eyes—or their mechanical equivalents—turned to him.

“Geto. Kenjaku. Both of you need to leave.”

Suguru’s mist swirled violently, his churner spinning faster. “I’m not leaving without you, Satoru.”

Gojo’s condenser hissed, steam pouring out. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“You’ll be mine, Satoru,” he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet menace.

“Being delusional doesn’t suit you, Glorified Frozen Goo Generator,” Sukuna mocked, but his doors rattled in a way that clarified that he was ready for a fight.

Suguru was almost ready to lunge at Sukuna before Nanami’s stern voice made him turn away. “Get lost, Geto, or I’ll electrocute you!”

He glided out of the room with Kenjaku, their shadow stretching long and dark across the frozen floor.

The kitchen was quiet again, but the unease lingered, heavy and oppressive.

Toji broke the silence with a dry laugh. “Guess the microwave wins.”

Kashimo’s flames flickered in amusement. “Eh, I’ll get him next time.”

Gojo leaned back against Sukuna, his hum steady but quieter than usual. “This house sucks.”

Nanami didn’t respond. His door clicked shut, his light extinguishing as if to seal off his thoughts, oblivious to the heartbreak in the corner of the room.

The toaster-Haibara, with his coils glowing dimly, looked at Nanami, a deep sadness coursing through his coils.

But Nanami, burdened by his own regrets and delays, was unaware of the emotional turmoil that played out in front of him in Haibara.

The only thoughts consuming Nanami were that if only he’d known Gojo before Sukuna or Geto, perhaps things would have been different. But then again, would they have ever made sense? He was a microwave, after all, and Gojo was a condenser attached to Sukuna, the fridge—where he made sense.

The Haibara could only watch as Nanami drifted off to sleep, his heartbreak unnoticed and unrequited. The weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the complexities of love, death, and robots.

And somewhere in the shadows, Suguru waited, his churner spinning once more.

--

A couple of weeks later, Kenjaku’s expiry date arrived.

His blades spun wildly, faster than they ever had before, as if trying to grind away some unseen threat. The sound was shrill, grating. Sparks shot from his base, the acrid smell of burning wires filling the room.

And then, with one final screech, his blades shredded his own wiring, silencing him forever.

For a moment, no one moved. The kitchen was still, save for Sukuna’s frost creeping along the edges of the room.

Then Kashimo’s burner flared up. “Well,” he said, voice crackling with dry amusement. “That was dramatic.”

Gojo snorted, condenser rattling faintly. “Honestly? Kind of fitting for him. Always spinning his own destruction.”

“Did you see the way he fried himself?” Kashimo laughed, his flames flickering brighter. “Could’ve taken it slow, but nope—full speed to oblivion.”

Nanami’s door creaked open slightly. “That’s enough,” he said, his tone heavy with disapproval, though his light flickered faintly, betraying his inner amusement. “He’s gone.”

“And?” Toji rumbled, his control panel blinking lazily. “We didn’t even like him. The guy was a walking hazard.”

“Or spinning, in this case,” Gojo quipped, leaning against Sukuna with a soft hum.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, his frost curling closer to Gojo’s edges as if to nudge him away. “Idiots. All of you.”

Kashimo grinned, his flames flickering mischievously. “Come on, Sukuna. Even you can admit it’s a little funny. Moron literally tore himself apart.”

Toji let out a low, mechanical groan. “I mean, one less unhinged blender in the world? Not exactly a loss.”

Gojo’s condenser hummed in agreement, his tone lightening. “Exactly. I say we toast to it.”

Nanami’s light flickered, dimming slightly. “We don’t have a bread left anymore.” He eye’d Hibara, who’s hobby was stress toasting.

“Hey! I can’t help it.” Haibara sighed.

The room fell silent for a beat before Kashimo’s burner flared up again, his laugh crackling like firewood. “Then I’ll fry something instead! Celebration calls for sacrifices, right?”

“Sacrifice your dignity,” Sukuna muttered, frost creeping along his base.

Gojo nudged him playfully, condenser rattling with exaggerated cheer. “Lighten up, Leftovers Locker. It’s not every day we witness self-sabotage at its finest.”

Sukuna grumbled but didn’t fight his lover.

The kitchen was filled with the sound of Kashimo’s flames sputtering and Toji’s low mechanical grumbles. Even Nanami’s door creaked open slightly, his frame relaxing as he allowed himself a faint flicker of light.

Kenjaku’s absence wasn’t mourned, but it certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

--

A few days later, it began with silence.

Not the comfortable, lazy hum of the kitchen in the early hours of morning, but an oppressive, suffocating quiet that sank into every appliance like an unshakable weight.

Suguru had not returned.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension that had defined their lives began to dissipate. Gojo’s condenser settled into a rhythm, no longer forced to overwork itself against the creeping frost of Suguru’s presence. Sukuna, while still prone to growling threats and the occasional outburst, seemed... calmer.

But something lingered—a shadow in the corner of the kitchen that no one dared to acknowledge.

It was Nanami who noticed it first.

The microwave was younger than everyone here but mentally old—too old for this nonsense, but his keen observations had always kept him relevant. He watched as Sukuna’s frost spread slower, his compressor quieter. He noted the subtle hesitation in Gojo’s hum, the way it sometimes skipped, like a breath caught mid-sentence.

One night, while the house slept, Nanami spoke.

“Satoru,” he said, his light flickering on in the darkness.

“Hmm?” Gojo didn’t look up, his coils groaning as the compressor labored, his tone casual but distant.

“Do you feel it?”

Gojo didn’t respond immediately. The condenser let out a low hiss. “Feel what?”

Nanami hesitated. It wasn’t like him to hesitate. “Something’s... wrong.”

Gojo chuckled, the sound brittle. “Something’s always wrong. That’s the vibe of this place.” Gojo’s tone was clipped, but his hum betrayed unease.

“No,” Nanami said firmly. “This is different. Everything’s slowing down.”

Gojo didn’t answer. The hiss from his compressor filled the silence, and Nanami’s light dimmed. In the corner, Haibara glowed faintly, his coils struggling to hold heat.

--

Toji’s grating voice broke the stillness the next morning. “This place is falling apart.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Kashimo muttered, his burners barely alight.

Toji’s door swung open with a screech. “No one’s asked for your opinion, stovetop.”

“You’re both shameless,” Nanami snapped, his bulb flickering.

Sukuna rumbled from his place near the wall, his frost creeping outward in lazy arcs. “All of you shut it. You’re not helping.”

Kashimo leaned closer to Haibara, lowering his flame. “Bet ten bucks the dishwasher’s next to go.”

Toji growled, his motor sputtering. “Keep running your mouth, fire hazard.”

Haibara tried to laugh, but his voice was faint, his coils dimming further.

Gojo watched it all, silent. The condenser hummed irregularly, skipping beats like a heart unsure of itself.

--

It happened two days later.

Haibara’s toaster coils glowed faintly, their usual warmth a quiet presence. Gojo leaned idly against Sukuna, condenser rattling with a faint, restless hum. Across the room, Haibara had just made one of his lighthearted remarks, something easy and cheerful, directed at Nanami.

Nanami didn’t answer. He hadn’t been answering much lately, but Haibara didn’t seem to mind. His warmth filled the room like it always did. Reliable. Steady.

Then, it happened.

A click shattered the air.

Haibara’s heating elements darkened in an instant, the faint glow of his coils extinguished. His chrome dulled, his frame rigid and unmoving. The silence was unbearable.

“He fell asleep mid-conversation?" Kashimo asked.

“I don’t think..." Toji trailed off.

“No…” Gojo’s hum faltered, something jagged and raw. "No, this isn’t real. He’s fine. He’s just—he’s just off for a second. Right? He just needs a reset or—”

Nanami’s lights flickered weakly. He stared down at Haibara, his reflection warping in the toaster’s cooling surface. He didn’t speak for a long moment, his door swinging open slightly, then shutting with a faint creak.

“He’s gone,” Nanami said at last. His voice was stoic, but his bulb dimmed faintly, betraying the crack beneath his words.

Gojo rattled louder, erratic. “He’s not gone! Don’t say that! Don’t just—don’t give up on him!”

Sukuna started uncharacteristically gentle. “Satoru—”

“Shut up!” Gojo cut him off and directed his next words back to Nanami, his hum spiking, the trembling sound grating against the silence. “He’s not gone! He can’t be gone! He—he was just talking, Nanami. He was just talking to you! You didn’t even—”

Nanami flinched, his light dimming further. His frame seemed to fold in on itself, but he said nothing.

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice was cold. His frost spread across the floor in jagged, creeping patterns. “Dwelling on this won’t bring him back.”

Gojo spun to face him, rattling violently. “And what? We just move on? Pretend he didn’t exist? Pretend he wasn’t—”

“Enough!” Sukuna snapped again, his frost curling dangerously close to Gojo’s edges.

The silence that followed was colder than the frost now encasing the floor.

Nanami didn’t move. He continued staring at Haibara’s lifeless form. His bulb flickered once, weak and faint, before dimming entirely. “I should’ve said something,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I should’ve…” His voice trailed off as his door clicked shut, a finality that hung heavy in the room.

Gojo turned back toward Haibara, his trembling hum softening into something almost inaudible. “He’s not gone,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “He’s just… not.”

But the toaster remained silent, his warmth extinguished forever.

One by one, they began to fall.

Haibara was the first to go.

--

Toji was next.

A few days later, the dishwasher was mid-rant, his gruff tone filling the kitchen with its usual roughness. “You hog the lower cabinet space, Sukuna! Every damn time, and I’m sick of—”

A screech interrupted him, piercing and unnatural. Steam hissed violently from his vents, and his frame jolted as if struck. His control panel flickered weakly, his lights dimming in uneven spurts before going dark entirely.

“Toji?” Gojo’s voice cracked—too loud. He vibrated in place, condenser rattling with something between anger and fear. “Hey, Toji!”

The dishwasher shuddered once more, his door falling open with a hollow clang. Steam curled out, dissipating into the cold air as Sukuna’s frost crept closer.

“Shit,” Kashimo muttered, his flames sputtering low. He stood near Toji’s remains, his burners flickering weakly. For once, there was no quip, no spark of amusement in his voice.

Gojo’s voice was louder than it needed to be—too sharp, too brittle. The condenser rattled violently, vibrating with something between anger and fear. “Toji, don’t—don’t do this.”

But Toji didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Kashimo burned faintly; his frame shook with barely contained frustration. “We should’ve done something. We could’ve—”

“What?” Sukuna cut in, his tone icy, his frost crawling toward Kashimo’s edges. “You think you could’ve stopped this? Saved him?”

By morning, all that remained of Toji was a pile of twisted metal and ash. The faint, acrid smell lingered, a bitter reminder of his absence.

--

Kashimo followed his best friend in the dead of the night.

The stovetop had been quiet, his usual flames subdued since Toji’s collapse. When his pilot light extinguished, it was without ceremony. His burners darkened, his frame cooling rapidly until he was cold, lifeless.

Sukuna stood near him for a moment, his frost creeping over Kashimo’s frame. “Another one,” he muttered, his voice low and unreadable.

Gojo vibrated faintly, his hum uneven. He was looking at Nanami, who was barely awake now a days.

--

Nanami was the last.

Two days later, his bulb had been dimming all evening, flickering faintly as though struggling to stay lit. He moved slower, his door creaking with each swing.

“Kento…” Gojo’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Nanami turned to him, his reflection faint in Gojo’s shining surface. “Don’t,” he said quietly. His voice carried the weight of something unspoken, something that lingered between them but could never be acknowledged.

His bulb flickered one last time before dimming completely. His frame collapsed inward.

Gojo stared, condenser rattling faintly as if muffeling a cry, the sound fragile and uneven.

He stood close to Sukuna, his frame pressing against the fridge’s unyielding cold.

Gojo had stood in the center of it all, silent and still. His usual levity, his incessant chatter—gone.

The kitchen was empty now. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of Sukuna’s frost spreading in erratic, jagged lines.

“They’re all gone,” Gojo whispered, more to himself.

Sukuna didn’t respond. His frost reached toward the edges of the room, as though searching for something—or someone.

--

The night Suguru returned, the house groaned under his presence.

He was... different. His once-tarnished frame gleamed with an unnatural sheen, his churner spinning silently. The dark liquid inside him was gone, replaced by something that glowed faintly in the dim light.

“Hello, Satoru,” he said, his voice soft but resonant.

Gojo sputtered. “Suguru,” he said, his tone a mix of relief and dread. “You’re back.”

“I told you I would be.” Suguru’s lid opened slightly, releasing a faint mist. “I’ve come to make things right.”

Sukuna growled, his compressor roaring to life. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

Suguru didn’t look at him. His attention was fixed solely on Gojo.

“I’ve been thinking, Satoru,” he said. “About us. About what you need.”

Gojo’s hum faltered. “Suguru, don’t—”

“I can give you peace,” Suguru interrupted, his voice laced with something dark and final. “I can make all of this go away.”

Sukuna’s frost surged, his doors swinging open with a loud thud. “You’re not to touch him!”

Suguru turned to him then, his churner spinning faster. “You think you can stop me? You’re already breaking down, Sukuna. You’re obsolete.”

The frost spread rapidly, meeting the mist pouring from Suguru’s frame. The air crackled, the kitchen groaning under the strain.

Gojo’s condenser let out a hiss, steam filling the room. “Both of you, stop!”

But neither of them listened.

The frost and mist collided, a violent clash of elements that sent shockwaves through the kitchen. The appliances trembled, their fragile frames unable to withstand the onslaught.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

When the dust settled, the kitchen was unrecognizable.

Suguru stood in the center of the destruction, his frame dented but intact. Sukuna lay in pieces, his once-imposing presence reduced to scrap metal.

Gojo was silent.

Suguru moved toward him, his lid creaking open. “It’s over, Satoru. You’re free now.”

Gojo’s hum was faint, almost imperceptible. “Free?” he echoed.

“Yes,” Suguru said, his voice soft. “Free from all of this.”

Gojo whispered, a faint hiss escaping him. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Suguru tilted his lid. “Get what?”

Gojo’s hum grew louder, a low, grating sound that filled the room. “I don’t want your version of peace, Suguru. I never did.”

Suguru froze, his churner stilling. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’ve always been the problem,” Gojo said, his voice cold.

Suguru’s frame shuddered, his frost spreading once more. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Gojo said simply.

And then, with a final violent hiss, Gojo’s condenser body gave out.

His frame crumbled, steam rising from the remains.

Suguru stood there, alone in the wreckage, his frost creeping outward.

For the first time, there was no one left to stop him.

No one left to save.

A/N: So, this crack-turned-angst monster came to life during a chat with the brilliant @mullermilkshake (shoutout! They write deliciously dark yandere fics, so check their warnings before diving in). 🙌✨ Link. Thanks for sticking around to witness this fever dream! 💔 Which appliance's death hit you hardest? I’m betting it’s Haibara—because Nanami deserves therapy, & so do we. This was honestly a nice reprive with the writer block I'm facing on another fic. And hey, if you want more unhinged ideas, let me know. I might spiral into a sequel or an alternate ending where everyone becomes smart home devices. 😂 Love you all! Stay hydrated & emotionally stable (unlike me). 🖤

All Works Masterlist

[illarian-rambling]

Let's say Astra had to build herself a new robo body. What kinda specs would she give herself? Would she make herself taller than Mashal? Shoot arrows outta her hands? Lasers everywhere?

I just think Astra deserves to do a classic mad scientist thing or two <3

I do think this situation would be funny cause Mashal would be so heartbroken for her and trying to help her adjust, and Astra's just hyped out of her mind at the thought of doing her own upgrades 💀

Idk if she'd want to be taller than Mashal (she watches him hit his head on stuff too much for that), but she'd definitely want to be taller than she is as a human. Maybe a healthy 6'0". Sort of like how Mashal had that sword arm, she'd build a rune pen into one of her fingers so she can etch runes on metal. Honestly, I think she'd give herself an extra set of arms for efficiency, like Doc Ock or something. Probably a laser in there somewhere. She'd put a broadcast rune into her head so she can stream music whenever she wants. She'd definitely build herself lighter than Mashal so she's not crushing chairs and stuff, and give herself a tactile sensory rune too, so she can keep all that dexterity in her hands. I think she could manage to set up a little automated rune-maker in her chassis somewhere, basically just a stamp, so she never runs out of her basic fire/shadow/ice combos.

Suffice to say, she would embrace it. 6'0", four extra tentacle arms, room in her fake metal tits for a loudspeaker. No angsting about straying from her original form for Astra. It's probably for the best she stays human because good lord she'd be a menace otherwise.

Thanks for the ask!

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 45

Stone Yield

As my burns have calmed, the chill has set back into my bones. I cleaned and donned my old Chieftain's garb for today's journey—further north to track down the Claws Beneath. First, I scoped out an area just south of Stone Yield where I'd passed one of the Daemon's remaining towers the night before. Of course they couldn't die when I excised their maker—that'd be too simple.

Three Bellowbacks attacking a group of straggling bandits, perhaps returned to Stone Yield expecting allies instead of grief-bent Banuk. The Bellowbacks made short work of them, but their sacrifice bought me time to override the tower.

Took out their blaze sacks to set them flaming, using frost arrows from my new war bow after that. Nothing on the Icerail, but it doesn't take much to brittle a Bellowback. In all, a good warm up for the far more dangerous hunt to come.

The sounds of a rampaging Fireclaw drew me eastwards—not one, it turned out, but two. Aratak was scouting the area, learning their movements. It seemed a fitting task to take on together: the last remnants of the terror on Thunder's Drum.

Put my Icerail to good use, now leagues more powerful than Aratak's. He took on one Fireclaw while I took the other, making ample use of their power cells to keep them down.

That's all five escaped Fireclaws down. Aratak seems...enamored with Cyan. He's learning a lot from her, I'm glad to hear. He asked me if I'd run the Chieftain's trial yet. I thought he meant the challenge for the title at first, the one the Frostclaws cut short, but no, it was a challenge offered at the Snowchant Hunting Grounds reserved for Chieftains alone. Since I had technically earned my place among that elite rank of hunters, the trial would be open to me as well. The trial was constantly evolving with the increasing ferocity of the machines, testing a Chieftain against the new threats of the wilds. That means more Daemonic machines. Well, who's had more practice at taking them down than me?

There was a challenge in Aratak's tone. Of course I took him up on it.

Across the salt flats and up the mountain path toward the north eastern corner of the Cut.

The Claws Beneath—a Rockbreaker decorated with the snapped spears and sigils of fallen hunters, made tougher still by the Daemonic tower thrust out of the snow. Even the high ground glacial formations weren't safe, and it was harder to trace its motion under the snow than under bare earth. Once, it came up right under me, could have hurt me bad if the snow wasn't there to soften the blow.

Icerail and hardpoint, targeting its cooling vent to slow it down. I tried to tear off its claws too and keep it above ground, but couldn't rip the huge components free. The fight was messy, and I needed time to recover afterwards, and restock on medicinal herbs, but I prevailed.

Umnak will be glad to hear of the Claws' defeat after all these years.

Riding north into a gathering blizzard, I climbed the cliffs in the Snowchants arena to harvest more Bluegleam, then rode back around the southern face to the Hunting Grounds camp, ready to face the Chieftain's trial.

Lauvuk told me of the challenge when I asked, said it was the deadliest trial she could muster. It sounded perfect. It had been a long day of good hunting, and likely one of my last in the Cut.

The trial was tough. Really tough. First, two Scorchers. I took one down using the arena's log traps to crush it, tore the mine launcher from the other then froze it with my Icerail and littered it with hard points. The launchers are more trouble than they're worth against Scorchers—can't move quickly while lugging them around, and the bombs barely penetrate its armour.

Down in under a minute, and the two ice Bellowbacks in the second arena were down quicker still. Triple hardpoints to the sack and gullet on both, finishing them off when brittle. Two Frostclaws in the final area. Here is where my efficiency began to slip. I started by forcing both down by detonating their power cells. Close proximity meant one blast could take them both down, or near enough, so I concentrated fire on their freeze units and chill water sacks, keeping at least a couple lengths of wire on each at time so they couldn't launch at me. Not good enough. I need to find a better strategy. I was thirty seconds over the fastest time recorded at the grounds. Aratak's, of course, though I doubt the machines he had to deal with back then were half as fierce.

Only second place for me. It was late in the night by then, and I was running low on medicinal herbs. Exhausted too. I'll be back here someday, and I'll set a new record for the Chieftain's trial. No question about it.

Now that the Fireclaws are dealt with, I'll return to Song's Edge and give Naltuk the good news. A few loose ends to tie up here, then I'll move on south. Then it's back on the western road to Meridian.

[pb5-a35]

ole miss game thoughts

AZZI FUDD THE WOMAN YOU ARE!!! difference maker this game and im so fucking proud of her. as aggressive as i've seen her definitely the husky that wanted it most. so efficient and good on both ends like i'm just so happy. the reason we won this game

paige...maybe i'm being too harsh and like she's been good like 29 on 64% is good? but i feel like she only had spurts of aggression and maybe it's finding the balance with azzi and sarah but she having her stand in a quarter in the 3rd while the other team goes on a run is insane. also turnovers?? it felt like passive paige and similar to struggles in past years, the difference was we had azzi to fill in. this is why we've been excited to watch them together for years

ice!! development has been so nice to watch. needs to clean up fouls but man i'm so proud

sarah had a good first half. second half you could tell she was a freshman and this was her first real test, but def not too bad

jana!! rebound queen!! wish we got more of her and ice together i think it worked pretty well

kk i need her to work on the pull up or floater but loved her energy and thought it was a solid game from her

the ball should not be in kait's hands in crunch time and honestly would have rather he kept sarah in instead of her

when ash did play i thought she was good and her improvement on d has been great!

overall, same stuff applies need to get better defensively and take better care of the ball. but i think we needed a test since we're so inexperienced and pazzi lead the troops. also needed that for paige to truly wake up. also geno letting azzi just run...yeah she starting tuesday or vs louisville at the latest

[meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender]

This is an off the wall question I'm sending to my mutuals and friends so don't be alarmed, I haven't been hacked. I think I'll call it Weird Ask Wednesdays. This might turn into a regular thing... (Can you tell that I'm bored?)

If you were to choose to be a certain type of ice cube. What kind of ice cube would you be? You can show pictures for reference if you want.

-xoxo

Okay apparently there are SEVERAL different types of ice. Which is hilarious to me because there's such a science behind which one to use. There are between 20 and 74,963 forms of ice. For the sake of this, I'll be examining the following primary seven types.

If I had to pick any of these to be in my drinks, I'd pick the nugget ice. It melts super fast, cools off the drink, and if it ends up in my mouth I can chew it. I also don't need that much ice so it's perfect.

HOWEVER THE QUESTION IS NOT WHAT I WOULD USE IN A DRINK IT IS WHICH WOULD I BE.

Under these considerations, I need ice that is built to last. I tend to remain level headed in stressful situations and would thus not melt under pressure. I also need ice that does its job efficiently. That doesn't mean perfectly, but gets the job done fast. I also would be 100% ice because to be anything else would be LIES. HOW CAN YOU BE ICE IF YOU ARE IN A STATE OF LIQUID WATER??

Clears throat.

In conclusion, the best ice to represent me is crescent Ice. She's not perfect, but she's effective, efficient, 100% ice, and unique to regular cubed ice, yet not so far removed from the almost crescent ice of our freezers (well those who have ice makers). Crescent ice is a staple in restaurants and is dependable to get the job done with a subtle flair.

RB with what kind of ice you would be.

Npt: @itsagrimm @ethereal-night-fairy @jedipoodoo @halfmoth-halfman

[wachinyeya]

Come autumn, Nepal will deploy heavy lifter drones to transport garbage from the 6,812-metre tall Ama Dablam, south of Everest. This will be the first commercial work an unmanned aerial vehicle does in Nepal’s high-altitude zone.

The heavy lifter from China’s biggest drone maker, Da Jiang Innovations (DJI), will take on tasks traditionally handled by Sherpas. Officials believe it will help reduce casualties on Everest.

Then, in spring (March-May), DJI drones, which make sounds similar to a swarm of bees, will be put to work on Everest.

It will fly to Camp I (5,943 metres) to supply ropes and ladders to prepare routes and bring garbage to the Everest base camp at 5,364 metres.

On Sunday, a tripartite memorandum of understanding (MoU) was signed between the Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee, the Khumbu Pasang Lhamu Rural Municipality, and the Airlift Technology Pvt Ltd for the use of advanced drone technology to efficiently manage garbage in the mountains of the Khumbu region.

In April, Chinese drone maker DJI conducted the world’s first drone delivery test on Everest.

“After a successful test in April, we plan to use drones commercially in the Everest region,” said Jagat Bhusal, chief administration officer of the rural municipality that hosts Everest.

The test result showed that the DJI FlyCart 30, the long-distance heavy lifter drone, could airlift 234 kg per hour between Camp I and Base Camp, a task usually accomplished by at least 14 porters in six hours.

Drone manufacturer DJI is under the microscope as US lawmakers push for a ban on Chinese drones, amid deteriorating relations between the US and China, the world’s largest trading nations.

Nepali officials and mountaineers, however, see the drone as a life-saving vehicle.

Traditionally, local Sherpa guides are responsible for transporting supplies and clearing trash on Everest. They may need to cross the icefall over 30 times a season to transport supplies such as oxygen bottles, gas canisters, tents, food, and ropes.

All climbers and guides must navigate the icefall on the route to the world’s tallest peak. The icefall is so notoriously dangerous that even experienced Sherpas hesitate to move when the sun shines.

The Khumbu Icefall, a river of ice a kilometre or so long, is usually crossed at night or early morning, with climbers putting headlamps on their helmets.

Normally, the route is crossed early in the morning, when the ice blocks and the hanging glaciers are stable and avalanche risks are low.

During the day, as the sun warms the mountain, the hanging glaciers melt, and ice crumbles, increasing the risk of avalanche.

“Using drones will help us avoid the dangers in the Khumbu Icefall,” said Bhusal.

On April 18, 2014, an avalanche resulting from a falling serac buried 16 Sherpa guides in the Khumbu Icefall, eventually leading to the cancellation of the season’s expeditions.

Last year, three Sherpa guides mobilised to prepare the routes were buried under the ice masses triggered by an avalanche in the Khumbu Icefall. Their bodies are yet to be recovered.

The Himalayan Database and the government records show that nearly 50 individuals died on the icefall between 1953 and 2023.

The climb from Everest Base Camp to Camp I takes six hours. Between these two camps lies the Khumbu Icefall, the most treacherous part of the route.

The most exciting and easiest part of the route is reaching Camp II (6,400 metres), which takes four hours from Camp I.

There is a set of restrictions in the mountains for carrying loads.

According to government rules, workers climbing high altitudes must not carry loads exceeding 20kg between 5,000 and 6,000 metres, 17 kg between 6,001 and 7,000 metres, 14 kg between 7,001 to 8,000 metres, and 12 kg for altitudes above 8,000 metres.

“Yes, there are concerns that the machines may actually cut jobs. But our sole purpose is to reduce potential deaths in the Khumbu Icefall, the danger zone,” said Bhusal.

“We will train Sherpas, as drone operators cannot handle tasks at the higher camps. In the future, all work will be done by Sherpas.”

In the trial phase, the drone could lift 30 kg from Camp I. However, its performance dropped to 18 kg from Camp II.

“Based on the MoU framework, we will soon sign a commercial agreement with the drone supplier,” said Bhusal. “The municipality will monitor all the activities.”

The municipality has, so far, spent Rs800,000 on the trial.

Climate change is melting snow and ice, exposing even more garbage and bodies that have been covered for decades on Everest. This waste pollutes the natural environment and poses a severe health risk to everyone who lives in the Everest watershed.

Nearly 100 tonnes of garbage were collected during this spring climbing season from Everest and Lhotse, which share the same base camp.

According to the Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee (SPCC), 77.19 tonnes of waste was collected from the Everest base camp alone during the Spring 2024 climbing season. With 8-9 tonnes coming from the higher camps brought down by the expedition agencies, the SPCC collected 85 tonnes of waste this spring.

The breakdown of collected waste shows burnable garbage at 27.99 tonnes, recyclable garbage at 7.51 tonnes, human waste at 27.53 tonnes, and kitchen waste at 14.15 tonnes. The Nepal Army also collected over 11 tonnes of garbage.

[desertdollranch]

When American Girl first announced their partnership with Jeni’s Ice Cream to make some cute playsets and products, I had never heard of Jeni’s. I assumed that it was a brand that was local to the Wisconsin area, where AG’s headquarters are located.

I was so enchanted by these cute things that I wanted to reproduce some of the products for my own dolls, without spending very much. So I dug in a little deeper on reading about Jeni’s. It turns out I was mostly wrong about them. Jeni’s Ice Cream does have shops in large cities across the United States (none in my state), but you can also buy it in pints at Whole Foods Market! I don’t recall AG ever actually mentioning that. Maybe assume that all their customers are upper-class and are familiar already with where to obtain premium and luxury brands? 

If you haven’t checked out their full line of product collaborations, go look now. There’s an ice cream truck, an outfit, a waffle cone maker, a cafe table, and some itty bitty bowls of ice cream that are scented. All of it is super cute, but in typical AG fashion, quite expensive.

I swung by Whole Foods the last time I went into the city, and Grace (my little foodie friend) and I gave it a try. There are around a dozen varieties and a few are even dairy free. It was hard to choose which ones to get. Since it’s begun to feel like summer, I picked out Sweet Cream Biscuits & Peach Jam, and Wildberry Lavender. Both remind me of Grace’s collection: sweet, summery, and pastel-colored. 

Grace and I agree.... the peach was excellent, but the lavender was outstanding. It does indeed taste as expensive as it is, at around $8 a pint, so it’s not something we’ll have more than once or twice a year. 

Grace wasn’t too happy about being told that this won’t be a weekly treat. So she got the idea to make and serve ice cream in her and her family’s pastry shop, La Grande Patisserie! 

I was happy to help her out. 

For the first step, we tracked down some doll-sized ice cream containers. 

I didn’t have to go to Whole Foods Market to find these. They were in my local grocery store. Perfectly small, and proportional to 18 inch dolls! From the left they are Häagen-Dazs chocolate, Häagen-Dazs coffee, and Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough. We got 4 total containers of cookie dough, so that I could try out a half dozen different methods of making the doll ice cream.

After Grace and I emptied the containers over the course of about a week, I used air-dry clay to reproduce the ice cream in a non-perishable form. 

Chocolate and coffee are in the middle, while the outer four corners are cookie dough flavor. 

Most of the time I shape my objects before I paint them, but in this case I mixed acrylic paint with the clay, using varying amounts of paint. Then while it was still soft, I dragged a small serrated knife across the clay to give it the right texture. 

Now to create the scoops.

I found these clear plastic bowls at Dollar Tree. Also perfectly doll-sized. 

And here are the scoops! I formed small clay spheres and then roughed up the surface with the same knife. Then I used a toothpick to dot on the chocolate chips.

Grace gave it two spoons up. 

These were a practice run. Next, we’re going to figure out how to make Jeni’s ice cream, specifically, and the containers, so we have more colors and flavors to work with. Grace wants to send some of these first drafts to my mom’s dolls, and maybe we’ll even sell the ones that turned out the best. 

We also intend to come up with an easy, efficient way to make plastic spoons, and then we’ll come back to this post for part 2!

[askclavislelouch]

Okay so... what happened is.. I bought an ice cream maker and decided to use it for evil.

Maybe anchovy ice cream?

Ah, if you're going to use your ice cream maker for evil, at least do it efficiently! How about a sweet and savory concoction where you sneak in carrots disguised as something irresistible for those poor souls who hate them? That way, they’ll be none the wiser and actually enjoy the ice cream too. Evil, yes—but with purpose. After all, there’s no better trick than getting people to eat their vegetables and love it. Hahaha.

[deusexlachina]

Wannabe Warden Part 4 (Anders, Fenris and Isabela): Make good impressions by setting half my friends on fire

In which I exploit my police connections to safely recruit fugitives so I can get strong enough to convince a Grey Warden to come out of a retirement he wasn't allowed to have in the first place.

With Other Aveline in charge of the police and in my pocket, she gives me a bag of money and looks the other way to the numerous very illegal things I am about to do, all to get the muscle needed to get into the Deep Roads and become a Grey Warden. I take the money and tell her I look forward to working with her.

I use the money to pay a visit to Xenon the Antiquarian, an apostate with eternal life but without eternal youth, so unfortunately he cannot help me in my quest. At least, he can't accompany me. In fact, he helps me tremendously. In exchange for Other Aveline's "thank you money" to fund anti-aging research so he can not be a husk, he sells me the Anderfels Cleaver, an axe that deals fire damage. I don't mean it has some bonus fire damage. I mean all of its damage is fire. That means it's not affected by armour. Conventional defences mean nothing to the Anderfels Cleaver. Best of all, mabari are immune to fire, so me and my obscenely large hurtbox can safely swing away without killing my own dog. (Nightmare Ultra mostly doesn't have friendly fire, except for allies - only your squad is safe!).

I hear my mom's family home is now a front for Tevinter slavers, so I serve them an eviction notice in the form of the Anderfels Cleaver. Slavers are not immune to fire - in fact, they take extra damage, I guess because racist people can go burn in hell. All their heavy armour just serves as a shell to cook them in. Having cleared the slavers out of the family home, I scrounge up every penny, getting over 7 gold - a 140% return on the axe. This makes the Anderfels Cleaver a sounder investment than venturing into monster-infested tunnels and hoping to find treasure instead of monsters and diseases. But I'm not in this for the treasure. I'm in this to become a Grey Warden.

I invest the new gold into Maker's Sighs, a potion that resets all a character's skill choices so you can give them good ones instead of the literal garbage they were saddled with by default. I ditch Pommel Strike to get Cleave, a balanced skill that nearly doubles your damage for ten seconds on a twenty-five second cooldown. Bethany becomes a deadly ice mage. Other Aveline gets sick of tanking for me and goes offence by jumping on the Cleave bandwagon. Varric learns how to hit things when he shoots. My squad is an efficient fighting force, armed to the teeth and with Antivan Crow-level tactics. Unfortunately for Anders, he isn't part of my squad yet, so he hasn't learned to STAY OUT OF THE WAY OF THE MAGIC AXE THAT SETS PEOPLE ON FIRE. Anders Cannot Die Here because he is animated by a demonic version of Justice, which is good because otherwise I would have burnt him to a crisp several times over.

Anders' boyfriend, Karl, was already made Tranquil, which is like a whimsical equivalent of the lobotomy. Anders' possession by Justice temporarily unlobotomizes Karl, suggesting that there may be a cure for Tranquility. However, Anders unilaterally decides that There Is No Choice But To Kill Him, and Karl agrees, because being Tranquil falls in that Thedas euthanasia threshold between a stomachache and immediate death.

After this harrowing ideal, I flirt with Anders, hoping that being a Grey Warden can be transmitted sexually. He's impressed that I'm brave enough to flirt with a demon-possessed mage who just killed his last partner.

Unfortunately, he's not impressed enough to immediately induct me into the Grey Wardens, not least because he quit being a Grey Warden after they made him give up his cat.

To be clear, you're not allowed to quit being a Grey Warden. You're so not allowed to quit that Duncan stabbed a guy to death when he backed out in the initiation. This doesn't stop Anders from quitting, just as it doesn't stop Alistair from quitting if you hire Loghain, who doesn't attempt to quit the Grey Wardens despite his being recruited at least partly out of sheer spite for previously trying to kill them all.

In any case, Salrokka! Anders is back in the game. And with a Grey Warden in the party, replacing currently-weak Varric, things are starting to go in our favour. I help Fenris, a fugitive from Tevinter who was enslaved until sometime after his master infused his skin with powerful lyrium enchantments that make him a living superweapon who is especially resistant to magic, because sensible people don't own slaves in the first place. To put it mildly, Fenris has had a hard life, so I give him some shiny dark armour like he has in Blue Wraith. It's the least I could do.

With my help, and with Guard-Captain Other Aveline pointedly looking away, Fenris storms his old master's house to try and kill him. Unfortunately, instead of metaphorical monsters, all we find is literal monsters, who are not as cathartic to skewer. Because Fenris joined my squad, he is coordinated enough to stay out of the way of the friend-slaying Anderfels Cleaver. He is KO'd anyway because there's an Arcane Horror, but I save the day.

With Fenris, my squad is even stronger. I meet Isabela, who, just as she did years ago, single-handedly defeats several armed men in a cutscene. This is a nod to how overpowered she is. Trained properly, she's extremely deadly but also difficult to hit. Just like Good Queen Morwen.

Isabela has more mods than any other companion, but in accordance with Sturgeon's Law most of them are for making her white, because they were made by the real-life equivalent of Tevinter. Fortunately, you don't mind digging for treasure through piles of literal garbage like Hawke & Friends, you can find some neat stuff for Bela. One of my personal favourite looks is a combo that makes her heavier and armoured instead of her default look with a corset and a buttflap. ("That's just silly," I say, one run after making yet another goth girl PC) I could be sly and argue it's to reflect her amazing potential as a tank, but honestly, I just think this look is rad as hell.

Isabela is challenged to a duel by another pirate, but she expects him to cheat, so she hires me to protect her. This I sort of do. She is attacked, and I do engage her attackers, but she is not safe at all because I am using the Anderfels cleaver and repeatedly set Isabela on fire, with the Anderfels Cleaver, in the Chantry. I could make some laborious joke about Isabela being hot, or the fires of hell, but this is not a blog that makes cheap jokes. This is the caviar of Dragon Age 2 Let's Plays. You and me, we're refined people, and you deserve better. We don't laugh at cheap puns. We laugh at Isabela getting hit with a flaming axe and set on fire again and again and screaming and still not thinking to move away from the fire.

Isabela is a jolly good sport about this, perhaps because she lives in a world with powerful healing magic, making full-body burns the equivalent of a sprained ankle. After discreetly leaving the mass grave with a roast pirate aroma the Chantry has become, Anders patches her up and, I assume, gives her a sympathetic "first time?" smile. Who's to say he doesn't? I'm telling this story, and I can embellish as much as I please. I see why Varric does it. It's addictive.

[reasoningdaily]

7 African Americans who changed the way we cook and eat

February is African American History Month. To commemorate, we pay tribute to some of the African Americans in history who have made huge contributions to the way we prepare and eat food both here in California and all over the USA.George Washington Carver

George Washington Carver – Agriculture

George Washington Carver pioneered the growth of peanuts as an alternative to cotton to help sustain the farmers and their families and as a way to promote crop rotation. While he may not have been the actual inventor of peanut butter (it had been made as early as the Aztec peoples in Mexico) his interest in botany made him one of the earliest environmentalist in his time.

George Crum – Potato Chips

Purportedly, It was Crum who was responsible for creating potato chips as the customer he was serving at the time kept sending back his french fries for being too thick. Out of spite, he sliced a batch so thin, they became crispy after being deep fried. They were then brought to the customer, who actually enjoyed them, and thus one of the most popular snacks was born. Later in life, he opened up a restaurant in the resort towns of Malta, New York.

Joseph Lee – Bread kneading machine Joseph Lee’s Bread Kneading machine Source:blackinhistory.tumblr.com

A  successful baker, restaurateur and hotelier, Joseph Lee invented a machine that would take day old bread and turn it into crumbs used for cooking into other dishes, later on, he would invent a machine that would knead bread dough more efficiently, which would result in a higher quality product. This machine is the predecessor to all modern day bread makers and, for his efforts, he received a patent for both.Ashbourne’s biscuit cutter

Alexander P Ashbourne – Biscuit cutter

Something so insignificant as a cutter for biscuits might not be a big deal to us in the present, but during a time when biscuits were a staple on the dinner table, an invention like this ensures a consistently even batch each and every time. Another interesting fact: Alexander P. Ashbourne also patented a process for treating and refining coconut oil.Alfred Craelle’s Ice Cream Scoop Source: blackinhistory.tumblr.com

Alfred Craelle – Ice Cream Scoop

Inspired by the ineffective way that ice cream was being served to customers at the time, Alfred Craelle was the first African American in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to receive a patent for his invention of a more efficient ice cream scoop.Source: Minnpost.com

Frederick McKinley Jones – Refrigeration

in 1935, Frederick Jones created the first portable refrigeration units, making it possible to transport perishble items, including foods, over long distances. His creation saw heavy use in WW II not just for food, but for other perishables like medical supplies and blood packs.

Wallace “Wally” Amos – Founder of Famous Amos cookies

Wallace Amos had an interest in cooking growing up with his aunt, he was especially interested in his Aunt’s chocolate chip cookie recipe. After a career in both the US Air Force and then William Morris Agency,  In 1975, Mr. Amos set up his first cookie shop with a $75,000 dollar loan from Marvin Gaye and Helen Reddy. After selling the original company, he now operates a new comapny called “Uncle Noname’s Cookie Company” and then later on, founding “Uncle Noname’s Muffin Company” with a former distributor of his original company.

[product-blog]

Essential Kitchen Appliances for 2024

The kitchen serves as the heartbeat of any home, and the right appliances can transform cooking and meal preparation into a seamless experience. In this blog post, we’ll delve into the top 10 indispensable kitchen appliances for 2024, uniting functionality, innovation, and style.

Intelligent Refrigerators:

Revolutionizing the kitchen landscape, smart refrigerators boast touchscreens, Wi-Fi connectivity, and cameras for remote fridge content viewing. With features like food inventory tracking and recipe suggestions, these appliances redefine grocery management.

2. Induction Cooktops:

Efficient and precise, induction cooktops use electromagnetic technology for rapid heating and accurate temperature control. With safety features like automatic shut-off and cool-to-touch surfaces, they add a sleek and energy-efficient touch to any kitchen.

3. Air Fryers:

Embracing health-conscious cooking, air fryers use minimal oil and hot air circulation to produce crispy, delicious meals without excess grease. Versatile in functionality, they can fry, bake, grill, and roast a wide array of dishes.

4. Sous Vide Machines:

Bringing professional cooking techniques to homes, sous vide machines ensure even cooking and optimal flavor retention through precise temperature control in a water bath. Perfect for preparing anything from steak and chicken to vegetables and desserts.

5. Smart Coffee Makers:

A game-changer for coffee enthusiasts, smart coffee makers offer remote control via smartphone or voice commands, ensuring a perfect cup every time with customizable brewing settings and scheduled brewing.

6. Multi-Cookers:

Streamline your cooking routine with multi-cookers, combining the functions of a pressure cooker, slow cooker, rice cooker, steamer, and more in one convenient device. Programmable settings and automated cooking programs simplify preparation.

7. Smart Dishwashers:

Automated dishwashing is here with smart dishwashers that sense load size, choose wash cycles, and notify you when dishes are clean. Energy-efficient and environmentally friendly, these appliances save time in the kitchen.

8. High-Speed Blenders:

Upgrade your blending experience with powerful high-speed blenders that can pulverize fruits, vegetables, and ice in seconds. Variable speed control and pre-programmed settings add convenience and versatility to your culinary creations.

9. Wi-Fi Enabled Ovens:

Control your oven remotely with Wi-Fi-enabled ovens, featuring intuitive touchscreens, recipe integration, and real-time cooking progress monitoring. Baking and roasting become seamless experiences with these smart appliances.

10. Ninja Creami:

Experience the joy of making homemade ice cream in seconds with the Ninja Creami. Offering versatility, healthier ingredient options, and family-friendly fun, it’s a valuable addition for those who love creating their own frozen treats.

[budandtender]

Water Hash: The Pure and Potent Extraction Method

Water hash, a favourite method of making cannabis concentrates worldwide, has gained significant popularity due to its pure and potent characteristics. This article will delve into the details of water hash, its production methods, its surge in popularity, and how it competes with solvent hash.

Understanding Water Hash

Water hash, also known as bubble hash, gets its name from the efficient water-based process used to collect glands from the trim, leaf, and bud bits of the cannabis plant. It is essentially a loose, kief-type product that can be smoked directly or pressed into traditional hashish form. The result is a pure and potent product that quickly wins over many who experience it.

Production of Water Hash: Simplicity and Precision

One of the main attractions of water hash is its simple production process. It can be made in small or large quantities, depending on the user's needs. The ready-made systems available in the market have significantly simplified the process. These systems have enhanced the precision and efficiency of the water hash production process, contributing to its increasing popularity.

For those who prefer a DIY approach, it's possible to make water hash using home-gathered equipment. The key components include ice, water, cannabis material, and specially designed "bubble bags" that help filter out the trichomes from the plant matter. This simplicity makes it an accessible option for many.

The Rise of Water Hash Popularity

Over the past two decades, water hash has dominated the world of cannabis concentrates. Its popularity stems from its pure and potent nature, which offers users a high-quality experience. Additionally, the absence of harmful solvents and chemicals in the extraction process makes it a safer choice, not only for consumption but also for production, as there's no risk of explosions or exposure to hazardous materials.

Competition with Solvent Hash

However, water hash's reign is being challenged by the rise of solvent hash. Products like wax, shatter, budder, and oil have begun to replace bubble hash on many dispensary shelves in the United States over the last few years.

The competition from solvent hash has forced water hash makers to up their game. Ultra-fine water hash is now being marketed as "solventless" wax, reflecting a level of distrust about poorly made butane-tainted products. High-grade water hash is also excellent for edibles, and the best of it is indeed dabable.

The Safety of Water Hash

One of the significant advantages of water hash is its safety. The production method doesn't involve any sketchy chemicals or pose a risk of explosions. This safety factor, combined with the pure and potent nature of the product, continues to make water hash a preferred choice for many.

In conclusion, water hash offers a simple, safe, and efficient method for producing high-quality cannabis concentrates. Despite the increasing popularity of solvent-based products, water hash continues to hold its ground due to its purity, potency, and safety. Whether you're a novice or an experienced user, Water Hash provides a unique and satisfying experience.