#ice machines maintenance

[clarefrigeration]

Discover top-notch ice machine maintenance services at CLA Refrigeration. Our expert technicians ensure optimal performance, preventing breakdowns and extending the lifespan of your equipment.

[fixice2]

Melting Away the Issues: Common Problems and Troubleshooting for Ice Machines

Ice makers are now an essential component of our daily life, whether they are found in restaurants, hotels, workplaces, or even our own homes. They keep our drinks chilled and energizing by giving us a constant supply of ice. Ice machines can, however, run into issues that hamper their efficiency and leave us in the cold, just like any other equipment. For trustworthy Ice Machines service in New Jersey, you can go through FixIce.com. They provide expert service to resolve your common problems. In this post, we will look at some of the frequent difficulties that ice makers encounter and offer troubleshooting advice to help you fix them. 

[crystalcleanice]

Ice Machine Cleaner Waldorf: Your Trusted Partner for Spotless Ice Machines

Ice Machine Cleaner Waldorf: Your Trusted Partner for Spotless Ice Machines

Maintaining a clean and efficient ice machine is vital for producing safe, high-quality ice. At Crystal Cleanice, we specialize in providing top-notch ice machine cleaner services in Waldorf, ensuring your equipment runs smoothly and meets health and safety standards.

Why Regular Ice Machine Cleaning Matters

Ice machines are prone to accumulating mold, bacteria, and mineral deposits over time. If not properly cleaned, these contaminants can compromise the safety and taste of your ice, while also affecting the efficiency of your equipment. Regular professional cleaning offers several benefits:

Hygiene Assurance: Prevents bacterial growth, ensuring your ice is safe for consumption. Enhanced Efficiency: Removes clogs and mineral buildup, helping your machine operate more effectively. Extended Equipment Lifespan: Proper maintenance reduces wear and tear, saving you money on repairs or replacements. Regulatory Compliance: Meets local health regulations in Waldorf for food safety.

Crystal Cleanice: Expert Ice Machine Cleaning in Waldorf

When you choose Crystal Cleanice, you’re opting for a team of skilled professionals dedicated to delivering exceptional results. Our ice machine cleaner services in Waldorf are designed to suit both commercial and residential needs. Here’s what sets us apart:

Thorough Cleaning Process: We disassemble, clean, and sanitize all machine components to remove every trace of dirt and bacteria. Eco-Friendly Solutions: Our cleaning products are safe for both your equipment and the environment. Experienced Technicians: Our team is trained to handle all major ice machine brands and models. Timely and Reliable Service: We work efficiently to minimize downtime and disruptions to your business.

Signs Your Ice Machine Needs Cleaning

Not sure if it’s time to clean your ice machine? Look out for these signs:

Cloudy or foul-tasting ice. Visible mold or slime inside the machine. Reduced ice production or slower freezing times. A strange odor near the machine. If you notice any of these issues, it’s time to contact Crystal Cleanice for professional cleaning.

The Crystal Cleanice Cleaning Process

Our step-by-step cleaning process ensures your ice machine is spotless and fully functional:

Inspection: Identify problem areas and assess the level of cleaning needed. Disassembly: Carefully remove internal components for deep cleaning. Sanitization: Use food-safe solutions to eliminate bacteria, mold, and mineral deposits. Reassembly and Testing: Reassemble the machine and test its performance to ensure optimal operation.

Why Waldorf Trusts Crystal Cleanice

Businesses and homeowners in Waldorf choose Crystal Cleanice for our commitment to quality, reliability, and customer satisfaction. Whether you run a restaurant, hotel, or office, or need ice for home use, our services are tailored to meet your unique needs.

Schedule Your Ice Machine Cleaning in Waldorf Today

Don’t let a dirty ice machine impact the quality of your ice or the efficiency of your equipment. Contact Crystal Cleanice for professional ice machine cleaner services in Waldorf. Call us at 443-910-5018 or visit https://crystalcleanice.com/ to schedule your service today.

Trust Crystal Cleanice to keep your ice machines in Waldorf running at their best and your ice pure and refreshing!

[andrews-refrigeration]

Best Commercial Ice Machine Repair Sales & Maintenance | Andrew's

Andrew's team handles services including ice machine repair, ice machine maintenance, or even replacement, if necessary. Call 602-992-9560 today!

There’s no doubt about it: Commercial Ice machines break down. Especially in the Arizona heat. Instead of putting a damper on your work day, you need to ensure you get proper ice machine repair.

[airconditioninggloucester]

Ice Machine Installation Insights

Elevate your ice production with professional ice machine installation. Experts assess your space, recommend suitable models, and ensure precise setup. Whether for commercial use or home convenience, proper installation guarantees optimal performance and extends the life of your ice machine. Invest wisely in expert installation to enjoy a constant supply of clean and high-quality ice tailored to your specific needs.

[greenrefrigerationllc]

Why is My Ice Machine Not Working?

Hello, ice-lovers! This is your trusted team from Green Refrigeration LLC once again. Are you having trouble with your ice machine and wondering what could be wrong? Don’t worry, we’ve got your back! In this blog post, we’ll discuss the importance of ice machines and guide you through common issues and when to call for professional help.

Why is Ice Supply So Essential?

An ice machine might seem like a small part of your kitchen or business, but the reality is quite different. Ice machines hold critical importance in several fields such as healthcare, food service, and many businesses. Without a properly functioning ice machine, businesses can incur significant losses.

Common Ice Machine Troubles

Sometimes, there are many reasons why an ice machine can stop working effectively or may stop working altogether. These issues can range from a dirty condenser to a faulty circuit. Some common problems include a blocked water line, ice sensor malfunction, or even mysterious beeping noises.

The Importance of Regular Maintenance

Ice machines, like all machines, need regular maintenance to function efficiently. Regular cleaning and timely repairs can prevent small issues from becoming big problems. Service appointments can detect damage early, saving you time and money long term.

DIY Fixes You Can Try

While you’ll need a pro for more significant issues, some hiccups can be resolved with a bit of DIY effort.

Restart if possible. Like any digital device, sometimes, turning off and turning it back on can solve the problem.

Check the water filter. Filters need regular replacement or, at the minimum, cleaning out.

Inspect the supply line. If a line is twisted, water can’t reach the ice maker.

Remember, if you try these and the machine is still not functioning as it should, it’s high time to call a professional.

When to Call for Professional Help?

If the DIY tips don’t work or if you’re dealing with reoccurring issues, it’s time to call Green Refrigeration LLC. Our experts can pinpoint the problem and provide fast, efficient solutions.

Stay frosty, and until next time- keep the cubes coming!

[chocodile]

Worldbuilding time! Let's talk about vehicular travel in modern day Amaranthine, using the snowmobiles from this recent comic as a jumping off point.

"Prowler" - Ironfrost patrol snowmobile - (year of manufacture: 1912)

These half-track all terrain vehicles are used by Ironfrost soldiers to travel long distances over the tundra. Originally adapted from older, four-wheeled automobiles, the half-track Prowler design became increasingly standardized over the years as eternal winter continued to creep southward. They are capable of operating in a wide variety of terrain conditions and are fairly modular. Common mods include removable skis, hardtop and softtop roofs, gun mounts, and towing attachments.

Like all vehicles, Prowlers are steam-powered. The external combustion engine runs on kerosene. In snowy conditions, feedwater can be obtained automatically through a scraper port on the underside of the vehicle, though manual feeding is required in muddy or dry conditions.

Though not as fast, reliable, or efficient as trains, their agile nature have made them an essential part of life in the far north… and, increasingly, in the middle country as well. The Rising Dawn have stolen several Prowlers for their own usage.

"Aspire" - Classic automobile (year of manufacture: 1890)

Four-wheeled vehicles are an unusual sight in the modern day. Ironfrost-made cars were in vogue among the southern rim upper class for many years, but the worsening climate has made them more and more niche as road conditions outside of major cities deteriorate. The majority of higher horsepower automobiles were converted directly into half tracks, while older, lower-end vehicles were generally scrapped for parts.

The Aspire was the last four-wheeled vehicle widely available to the public. Advertised as a stylish, powerful, modern vehicle for the elite on the go, it boasted a sleek, classy aesthetic, a removable softtop roof, and a powerful steam engine with a large kerosene tank suitable for travel between cities. Preorders were advertised to southern rim wealthy in local papers. However, a series of unusually bad winters soon after its debut scared off buyers, shutting down production early and ultimately spelling doom for the entire four-wheeled automobile industry.

One of those Aspire preorders went to Baroness Jocosa North. Though she has since passed away, her son, Theopolis North, still maintains the now wildly impractical car in near mint condition. It is almost never seen outside of its garage.

"'Icebreaker' Class E 250" - Northern cross-country train (year of manufacture: 1903)

The majority of modern-day overland travel is accomplished via train. Massive long-distance rail lines, laid before the world became quite so cold, connect the remaining cities, allowing (relatively) safe travel and trade across vast expanses of tundra.

Southerly locomotives typically operate with only a basic wedge plow attachment. However, trains that run further north must be fitted with gigantic rotary snowplows. These complex machines require significant maintenance. Though they can and will chew up most things that get in the train's way, encounters with particularly large and bony beasts have been known to jam them.

Ironfrost's line terminates in a massive, sprawling rail yard where Icebreakers are fitted and maintained. Those who have visited it tell of a dark, dreary wasteland of twisted scrap metal and ice where coal dust and smoke have turned both the sky and ground black. All northern trains must pass through that place eventually.

"Chariot of the Dawn" - One-of-a-kind luxury automobile (year of manufacture: 1920)

The only place where four-wheeled automobiles still thrive is the City of the Sun. The eternal summers and paved roads are well-suited to cars and trolleys, though they are, of course, still something of a luxury good. Licenses for ownership and operation are ultimately controlled by the church, with His Radiance having the final say. (His most devout followers, of course, tend to get preferential treatment here.)

The City of the Sun manufactures its own vehicles, adapted from Ironfrost designs in a sort of divergent evolution. Freed from the road and weather concerns of the outside world, their automobiles favor sleek, swoopy body shapes, ornamental trim, low-slung bodies with limited ground clearance, and pastel paintjobs. Additionally, the engines are far less powerful and far more finicky, requiring regular maintenance.

His Radiance himself owns several custom automobiles, all of which are egregiously bedazzled to a degree that would look grotesque to anyone who wasn't used to it. Some are open-top, allowing his loyal followers an audience with his beautiful face and glittering halo, while others feature tinted windows. You know, in case he wants subtlety.

[fawnsflowerbed]

♡ It's The Most Wonderful Time-out! ♡

A/N: is this late? 100% but it's time for some CHRISTMAS HYBRID TIMEEEEE!!! A HUGE thank you for the patience from my amazing sunshine anon for this commission <3 Personally I think the title is hilarious, do- do you get it- the most wonderful time of the year- plz laugh-

Warnings/content: 2nd person (you/yours), fem pup hybrid reader, puppy's first Christmas! Grumpy ol' man Vendetta Leon, Leon is referred to as daddy! Reader in time-out, visiting the hybrid park, angst and fluff, mentions and descriptions of gore, all gets resolved in the end!

Word count: 7,430 approx.

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December 23rd

Time out. Oof, those words. They were enough to take the swing right out of your tail. 

This definitely wasn’t your fault. On the scale of 1-10 you’re like, a -5 when it comes to being in trouble. Totally. It wasn’t your fault it had rained, or your fault you wanted to jump in the the new layer of snow and got all wet and muddy, the only part that might have potentially, potentially been on you was tracking said mud and sleet through the living room. The living room rug to be exact. The rather expensive, difficult to clean because daddy sometimes ‘truly can’t be fu- bothered’ rug. That was the one rule; he could deal with mess on the floorboards, the tiles, but not the carpet. The stains were just too hard to get out.

Leon could handle dirt and grime absolutely, he’d take it over guts and gore any day of the week, public holidays and Christmas included. But coming home from work after a long day, hands stinking of gunpowder and grease, only to find muddy streaks and pawprints all over the rug was his last straw. The coffee machine in the office had been broken, his magazine clip had taken three different attempts to click into place despite the million times he’d done it before, and the armoury’s practice range had been down for maintenance. This was just the gasoline flavoured icing on his flambe flaming shit excuse for cake. 

Woosh. Fire. 

So, there you were. Plopped back into your pen, favourite squeaky toy just out of reach sat beside Leon’s chair as he scrolled through whatever’s on his phone. Teddy was right there, all worn out fluff and stringy neck ribbon, you were being taunted! This was torture, punishment of 

the worst degree. The only thing that would make it even more awful was going to bed without a kiss goodnight. But even Leon wasn’t that cruel.

Don’t get it twisted, he was feeling guilty about this too. The face you made when he walked through the door told him plenty. Big, round eyes, head bowed and tail anxiously thumping. You knew you’d gotten carried away. But you also knew better. And it’d been so long since he actually disciplined you. This was long overdue, half chewed toys left sopping wet in the bath after tub time, weeks of chased squirrels and rabbits, staying up way past your set bedtime. This was what really sealed the deal though. So, you do the time, you do the crime.

Even now he could feel your eyes boring into the back of his head, like two teary, glossy lasers set to melt his old hardened heart. Every half-hearted thump of your fluffy tail, every scuttle of your nails against the floorboards as you got comfortable, every tiny whimper you seemed hesitant to let out. Not to mention your poor attempts at being ‘completely and totally cool’ with your timeout since he often caught you staring up at him through the bars, eyes following each swipe of his fingers over his phone screen. And when he craned his neck to check on you, you were swiftly looking in the opposite direction, swearing you weren’t just tracking each of his movements. How couldn’t you though? You were obsessed with your owner, Leon was your daddy at the end of the day no matter how many play pens or crates he had to put you in so you’d behave.

 His poor princess. You were killing him, really. He’d survived well over 15 years of bioterrorism just to die at the hands of his pup-hybrid’s big wet pathetic gaze. Could flood a village with the amount of tears you shed a week, but he loves you and that tender heart of yours.

The real question was how much longer could either of you take? Leon knew it was a ‘you do the crime, you do the time’ type of deal, but was this truly teaching you anything other than how to master your pouty bottom lip? You’re his favourite fluffball, fuzzed up and huffy, chuffing and rolling over onto your back like you’re ready to play dead if it gets you out. 

And honestly? He was caving. He was only a man after all.

You’d softened him, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Three years ago he’d have scoffed at the thought of even owning a hybrid, let alone being this attached. But now you were glued to his side. Now he just felt like an old man, worn and tired, your sunshiney attitude and warmth had thawed through him like no heater had. He’d been frostbitten before meeting you, whether he’d known it or not.

He couldn’t bear it. Yeah, time was up.

So his heavy footsteps muffled through socks padded across the floorboards to you, although you tried to act like you didn’t care (and failed miserably). It was pretty obvious how much this mattered to you, because your tail was whipping something fierce, so hard it had your hips wiggling. 

“C’mon, darlin’. Think you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Those big eyes pierced his very being and soul as you gazed up at him from behind your lashes, ears all floppy and face streaked with past tear tracks. God, you’d been crying over this too? Might as well just rip his heart from his chest and stomp on it. 

Even as he turned around and sat back down on the couch, looking over to you expectantly, you seemed to hesitate at first. Glancing at the spot where the rug had once sat in the centre of the living room, right in front of the coffee table, with guilty furrowed brows. Then it was back to looking at Leon, back to melting him with those heartbreaking watery eyes.

“Oh, my sweet puppy.” He couldn’t help but croon as you made guilty little steps over to him, every tap of your feet filled with shame, tail swaying with embarrassment. You were a walking heap of emotions, and he was ready to scoop you up and put you back together. “Here she comes, there we go. Tough day for our girl.”

You’d missed it, oh how you’d missed it. At your heart you truly were just a puppy, in need of the loving praise and sweet words that only he could provide. You weren’t the mushiest pup in the litter, but there was nothing like a good hug from your daddy. That much was clear from the way you melted into Leon’s body as soon as you were sat in his lap, your tail thumping delightfully against his knees while you burrowed into him. Paws kneading his shirt so you nestled into him just right.

“I know it was rough, honey. M’ sorry. But sometimes daddy has to discipline you, y’know?” the thick pad of his thumb encased your chin just enough to tilt your gaze upwards, his hand sliding over the curve of your face so he could wipe your tears away. “And it hurt, didn’t it?” “Yeah..” “So next time you think about stepping on the rug with muddy feet, you’ll remember how much we both hated this, and you won’t do it, isn’t that right?” “,,Yeah.”

“That’s right, baby. My poor girl.” That last statement came out as a small sigh, rubbing the soft fuzz of your floppy ears tenderly between his fingers. Even now as he gave you a talking down your tail never stopped thumping against his leg. 

No matter what, you loved him. That must’ve been why they called it puppy love. And it made his heart ache something fierce. You were too good.

Leon felt like the worst daddy in the world sometimes, he wasn’t gonna even try to lie about that. Sometimes he scratched behind your ears too hard, or you didn’t understand one of his jokes and ended up getting pouty and upset, sometimes he didn’t throw the ball right or pick out the right snacks. But all of that was nothing compared to the biggest issue.

His intoxicated escapades were at the very top of that list. 

Raids of the fridge and mumbling to himself, slumping his jacket off only to pass out on the edge of his bed. Leon knew you didn’t like when he got drunk, it was probably what hurt him the most about all of it. Not the gunshots echoing through his skull when his shot glass hit the table, or the recoil of a pistol wracking his shoulder when he ran into a wall too hard. 

No, it was the look on your face.

How you seemed to curl yourself back into your pen, watching with a lowered head and a hesitant gaze, tail somewhat tucked. The foggy memory of the face you pulled when he was too rough petting you or spoke too loud while sloshed. That’s what ached, what truly stung like a bitch. 

He was supposed to be the one protecting you, caring for you, and because of his own problems now you’d seen a side of him he never wanted you to. He’d made your hands awaken to the crack of eggshells beneath them when you stepped towards him, you were familiar with the shell’s powdering like that of bullet sulfur, and inner yolk gold as the streaks in his hair back then. Knew of the blood that sometimes hung in the middle of it all, and in the worst scenario the curling of bones left over. 

But still at the end of the night, drifting between a muddled haze of asleep and awake, he’d hear you make your way slowly towards his bed, the mattress dipping when you climbed up and curled up at the bottom of the duvet. Because, despite it all, you wanted to be close to him.

 Because, despite it all, he was your person. So he dumped what he could of the remaining bottles, stashed a few shitty cans for safe keeping in case things got too hard, and stopped being a regular at Jerry’s bar. 

He was doing it for you, maybe only for you.

Now he had you sat in his lap, buried in his shoulder and curling in as small as possible. Trying to become one with the skin of his arms and fabric of his shirt. You wanted to crawl up under his jacket and be carried as one with Leon, you’d do it if you could. 

He had to do something.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” Oh, that voice. Despite the icy weather outside, despite the cold that hung in his chest from time to time, his tone always tried to be warm with you. Soft. like those mutts learning to gentle their snarls and unclench their teeth, to stop growling. He was so used to the sneering, the sarcasm, snapping when someone got too close or said the wrong thing to him. But you were so fluffy, so fuzzy to the world, so unaware and loving. So he had to wear a muzzle, and he learned how to adjust.

Why? Because he couldn’t be a violent dog if he had his very own puppy. “I dunno..”

A lopsided smile spread across his cheeks at the look on your face, chin tilted and tail squirming as you look to him. There’s still the matter of that guilt still hanging in your face, stray strands like an unruly mop of hair.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna squeeze ya.” While you were still processing Leon’s comforting words and the lull of his voice, he was quick to gather you in his arms and press you tight to his chest. Immediately you were bathed in the scent of his shirt, the natural smell and comfort of his body. A warm blanket of safety had been draped over your blankets in the form of his presence. He squeezed your body nice and close until you squeaked out a yapped laugh, the fluff of your ear squished against his stubbled cheek.

“Oooo, good squeeze. Get all those nasty feelings outta you.”

“Daddyyyy, you’re smooshing me!” These were the moments he really cherished, ones where your tail swung and you squirmed in his arms with that smile of yours.

“Awww, well that’s how you know that it’s a real good squeeze,” His voice waved every time he swayed you slightly from side to side, bringing bubbly giggles from your throat that drifted up into the air and popped right at his heart. “It’s like juicin’ an orange, gotta shake and twist you till you’re all better.” “I don’t wanna be juice!” You howled out playfully, throwing your head back like the dramatic little thing that you were.

“Oh you don’t huh? Then you gotta keep smiling for me baby, it's just that simple.” He pushed his cheek up against your own. God, how he loved that smile, the sound of your tail thumping across the fluff of the sleek couch. There you sat, cute as a button, curled up atop his legs and snuggled in close like the sweetest, softest stuffed animal. “Tell you what, we get you one last snack, and then we’ll tuck you in, and tomorrow we’ll go into town. Catch everything before it all closes up.” 

You were already half asleep in his arms by the time he’d finished talking.

December 24th

Planning the day out was the easy part, executing it was hard. Not only because Christmas was right around the corner which came with its own chaos, but because you were- well, you. Overly loving, over committed, overly loyal and lovely you. Leon swore you must’ve been the cutest looking leech or tick in a past life.

You insisted on putting together an outfit that yes consisted of your favourite bows and daddy’s most comfiest shirt that smelled like him. But even his ‘I’ve worn the same blue shirt for 3 years’ ass could tell when things didn’t coordinate together. So he did the gentlemanly and not-wanting-you-to-look-like-a-disaster-oustide-ly thing and helped you into some cute fleecy stockings, complete with a soft sweater and your favourite skirt. Gloves of some sort were a must, you had a thing for pawing at whatever you could get your hands on no matter how cold it was, and you were in your fuzziest boots. Adorable. Like a Christmasy puffball, a fluffy ornament. All you needed was a pair of angel wings and a halo and you’d be ready for the top of the tree. 

“Look at her, look at that posture and stance. Look at that trot. That’s a well trained leash dog right there.” A smirk tugged at Leon’s lips as he watched you pad in step with him, the lacy trim of your skirt swaying whenever your foot met the sidewalk. This was the very same puppy who sat staring at him from her crate with the most pitiful eyes yesterday, rolling over onto your back like you might die from lack of attention. And now you were practically skipping, a bounce to your tail with every step.

You were lucky enough to live in a small enough part of the city. Not too urban, but definitely not rural. An outskirt area that was a nice walk away from the nearest hybrid park, long enough to get you warmed up for the real fun. And even after Leon had you off the leash you were staying in step with him, glued to his side with the sweetest smile on your face. In fact it took a little coaxing and the presence of some other pups for you to finally run around.

Leon knew you could be sociable when you truly wanted to be, but even for such a smiley little thing sometimes you simply preferred his company to anyone else’s. You could be skittish, a bit shy, and it truly threw him off guard when that part of you poked its head out from behind the warm rays of sunlight that radiated from your very being. It was adorable, really. Watching you curl into his leg with a slightly swishing tail of fluff, giving a small wave only to burrow into him. But today you were doing well, today you chose to shake out your jitters. And yes, he wouldn’t admit it, but he was proud of you.

No matter how many times Leon brought you out here, letting you experience the wonders of a normal domestic life, it never stopped being nothing short of magical to watch you shine. You had this magnetic aura that always seemed to follow you around, people were drawn to you and that sunbeam that clung to the smile on your face. The warmth that you spread to those around you. 

You truly were his sunshine.

“Leon?”

A voice he hadn’t heard in a few weeks thanks to his time off work caught his attention, and sure enough as he looked over his shoulder there stood Ingrid Hunnigan. Bundled up in a long overcoat with a recyclable cup in her hands, steam wafting from the lid in smooth swirls through the crisp cold air. Already her glasses seemed to be fogging up again, despite so clearly being cleaned only recently. Yeah, he didn’t realise how lucky he was to have decent vision despite all the bullshit he’d been through. Glasses on top of the trauma and broken bones might’ve done him in.

“Hunnigan? The hell are you doing out here?” It wasn’t defensive or aggressive, moreso confused. Intrigued, interested. It wasn’t often he actually saw her out and about. A little silly in all honesty for him to think that, Ingrid always had some sort of plans around Christmastime. Her holiday decorations, complete with lights and glowing reindeer atop a tiled roof, were nothing to scoff at.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen the snow in person, I figured I’d go for a walk to get a feel for it.” She shrugged, hands tucked into her pockets. 

He was listening, or at least some part of him was. The other part was blurring through his peripheral vision to make out the blob of colour and wagging tail that was you balling up snow as you ducked behind a tree, playing with one of the other hybrids. If you asked anyone in his line of work, they’d say Leon is a hardass. He’s committed to his work and gets his job done, and he’s passionate about what he does whether that’s good for him or not.��

But with you? With you he was just a man. Just your owner, your person. And that was such a relief.

“How’s she doing?” Ingrid asks out of habit. Every woman in the office can’t help but ask Leon about his perfect princess. And of course he laughs, shaking his head.

“Spoiled as ever. Really enjoying my time off with her.” Much needed confirmation, he knows he’d never hear the end of it if he dared tell Hunnigan about the time out incident. Best to keep it lighthearted now. Even as her face seems to.. Falter. What was that about?

“Listen, about the Phillis report..”

And then that lightheartedness was gone. If it weren’t for the icy chill that surrounded him, Leon would’ve gone a new shade of pale in the cool winter light. 

It never used to bother him. It never phased him on the outside. But now? With you?

The Phillis report. A family with a hybrid that had been a target for a bioterrorism attack. 

A hybrid.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you smiling, the red tips of his ears pricking at your laughter, the soft crunch of snow beneath people’s feet feeling much louder now as they passed. Everyone’s footsteps were unique, every thud and crush that left a print. Evidence. Clues. Cases. Work.

A hybrid like you. Everything was muddling together into the nastiest shade of grey water freezing over into ice. He hated his job. If he could pull the pin on a grenade, jump on top of it and coat the walls of that godforsaken office in his blood and guts he would. Because that’s what they were asking from him. They were asking him to die for them. Jumping from subject to subject, he was playing jump rope and hopscotch with his morals and intrusive thoughts over one simple statement in the middle of the holidays. How the mighty so quickly fell beneath twinkling lights and atop brightly wrapped presents.

The pulse of his heart had managed to spike, thundering fast and heavy in his chest. Eyes half an inch wider, pupils shrunk.

It could’ve been you. It- “Please, don’t. I’m just- I’m trying to not think about all of that. Not with her here.” It came out a bit too rushed, like his body had forced each syllable from his lips to get a point across. A safety measure, a precaution for his well being.

Leon had already spent countless nights tossing and turning over the paranoia of you being caught in his work. Now it had gotten so bad that even the mention of a hybrid being involved in a case made him sick to his stomach.

Because what if that had been you?

His throat almost closed itself off to the world as he got his words out. Ingrid’s face was creased in worry at the state of him. How had one statement so quickly pulled him through a 180? “It’s our first Christmas together, I can’t ruin that. I can’t.” Swallowing felt like choking down gravel but he managed to nonetheless. 

Hunnigan’s gaze softened, because she knew exactly how much it would ruin a perfectly good day if she were to stretch this out. She knew you were bouncing around somewhere without even looking for you amidst the snow and differently shaped animal ears and noses. You were the centre of Leon’s world, even if he didn’t know it. But those around him, those like her and Claire and Rebecca, could see what a difference you’d made. “I get it. Just.. don’t worry about rushing it, okay? It can wait until next year.”

“Yeah.. Yeah, thanks.” Automated. Robotic. Leon felt like he was backseating his own life as he responded, hearing Hunnigan’s shoes click as she prepared to walk back to her apartment complex. The sympathy ebbing from her expression only made him feel more sick, and yes that would’ve made him feel bad if it weren’t for him being on the brink of what was most likely a panic attack.

“Merry Christmas, Leon. Take it easy.” He couldn’t get the words out, settling for a stiff nod. Work. Work, work, work. It followed him everywhere no matter how fucking hard he tried to escape it. Think of something else, he scolded himself through the deafening heartbeat in his ears. Anything else. Think of you.

Padding your way over the snow, he watched on in an attempt to calm himself down as you bounded around the park like a bunny. Maybe a fox, the type that burrowed deep under the flurries of fresh powder with yipping laughter. All he knew was you were enjoying yourself, and that was all that mattered. That was all he focused on as his breathing steadied. With a short, still somewhat breathless whistle, your ears stood on end. Immediately your head thwipped to him, and you were merely a blur of pink and white that came scampering towards him. Yeah, that got a snort. Good. He needed to laugh more.

“There’s my girl.”

And there you were indeed, practically barrelling into his leg so he let out a hoarse ‘oof’ at the impact. Complete with a whispered “Hi daddy,’ that somehow managed to calm his heart in ways no medication or therapy could. Maybe he could start you out on service hybrid training, get you certified. Nah, you were too cuddly for that. Plus the vest would have to be pink or you just might refuse to wear it. So for now, he figured he may as well treat you.

“How about some hot cocoa, hm? You were a good girl after all, took your punishment like a champ.” Lie. Big, fat lie. If the ladies at the office ever caught word of how Leon had put you in timeout he’d be getting the most gruelling of death glares. His grave would be trampled on as they sprinted their way over to comfort you. He couldn’t really blame them, though, how could you not run someone over to pet someone as precious as you. You, currently sticking your little tongue out to catch the delicate snowflakes floating down from the sky as you approached the cafe. That’s what he had to keep reminding himself of in this moment. He did all of this for you. Trying to drown out the sinking ache in his stomach as if he’d swallowed an anvil, that son of a bitch must’ve been hidden between the bubbles of his saliva, or maybe the frost that dripped from the roof. 

So yeah, he was using you as the most sweet looking distraction right now, watching your wide eyes take in the wood grain and sleek walls of the coffee shop tucked into a corner of the park. On your best behaviour as you both stood in line until you got to the register. The metal tang in the back of his throat definitely had nothing to do with the gut weight still lingering after talking to Ingrid. Nope. Must’ve been the cold.

“Yeah, can we grab one long black and one.. Hm.” For a moment Leon caught himself rethinking his decisions. Was it really the best idea to give you something that had ‘cocoa’ in the name? You guys had yet to test how you’d react to chocolate after all. Taking the time to test and breakdown what food and beverage you could eat or simply didn’t like was a meticulous process, but better safe than sorry. “Wait, that was on our testing list..”

“Daddy?” Sorry puppy, daddy’s too busy having a small crisis over whether or not you can actually drink what he was ordering for you.“Is it- It should be safe for you to have hot cocoa, right?” “Daddy.” This time it was flatter. Unimpressed.

“I mean you haven’t had a bad reaction to anything yet despite being part puppy but, it’s technically chocolate to some degree so-

“Daddy!”

The tugging at his wrist was enough to get his attention back on you, the draw of your big dewy eyes and scrunched nose luring him in like a fish to bait.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” “Turn brain switch off.” 

Sometimes he thought you were pretending to be as curious and innocent as you are, because you so easily sensed when he was anxious or worried. Like an instinct. Sure, he loved you to bits, but you weren’t the brightest bulb in the- light store? Batch? He’d come up with a better analogy later. Either way, the point stood. And yet you always did that little head tilt when something seemed off. That bulb flickering to life.

“Right, puppy. Daddy’s turning the overthinking switch off.” Leon reassured as best as he could. And it seemed to satisfy. “Good daddy.”

He couldn’t help but snort again at that. “Thanks, baby.” Being praised for his minute efforts in managing his thoughts by his very own puppy hybrid. By the time you hit the register he was still smiling despite the storm in his head. “One long black and a hot cocoa, please.” 

But oh, how quickly it faded into thunder clouds. Even as he gave the barista his name for the order and walked over to wait for your drinks, it lurked over him. A sickening thickness in his throat, like tar tobacco and nicotine had clogged his windpipe. He was on auto pilot when he collected the recyclable cups and placed one of them into your eager hands, not recognising his own voice as he warned you about it being hot.

Leon was stuck between reality and dissociation, his feet leading both of you on the path back home that you’d taken enough times to have memorised. And even as you blew on the surface of your cocoa through the spout of the cup’s lid, you could see it in his eyes. That distant look. Deflated, the same as when you chewed on your favourite squeaky toy too hard and it popped.

“Daddy? You’re all droopy.”

Your voice was high and puzzled, all floppy ears and arched brows in confusion. Did he not like the park? You’d had a wonderful time making snow angels and bounding through the white powder like sweet icing sugar atop a winter cake. Maybe daddies just didn’t do parks well, like how you didn’t do the vet too well.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Daddy’s just thinking about things.” It had him staring out so far his eyes hit the end of the sidewalk, through the ice and snow to the cement. One hand held your leash, the other swiping past his lips. Hoping to wipe away the residue of his frown. 

It didn’t work. “But the switch..” Oh, don’t give him that tone. So heartbroken, so worried. It broke him.

“I know, I know the switch honey.” Already he was rubbing over the crease between his brows. This conversation couldn’t happen, not here and not now. “But sometimes- sometimes it’s not that simple, you know? Sometimes the switch doesn’t work.”

You supposed that made sense. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder. And pry, just a smidge. You could be a little pushy and shovey, whether you meant it or not. “Well, whatcha thinking about?”

What wasn’t he thinking about was the real question. It was all blurring together.

He simply shook his head. Made the bangs of his hair sway when he did. “Don’t worry about it, pup. It’s a conversation for another time.”

Well, that didn’t seem right to you. Usually Leon was so open with his feelings towards you, so you couldn’t help but nudge him. This time not with your nose or paw, but with your words. “But..”

And then his voice was lighter, as if he’d dropped the weight he’d been carrying over to one shoulder. Giving the illusion that things were better, that things were normal. But that shoulder still slumped. “Hey, weren’t you telling me something about Jill’s dog Carlos showing up on his own today? What was that about?” 

It still dragged.

At first you were very willing to tell him, the very concept of a hybrid on their own both bewildered, confused and excited you. Carlos was a big shaggy furred fella, he always played fair and shared the good treats Jill handed out.

But you knew this tactic. It was the same as when you’d ask him questions and instead of giving you an answer he’d pick up the nearest squeaky toy and suddenly you were playing fetch instead of talking. This time you were all the wiser.

“You’re trying to distract me! I don’t get it, when people say certain things you go stiff and wonky.” You couldn’t help but frown up at him. It didn’t feel fair, not knowing these things about him. A whole year together and yet sometimes he looked more like a stranger, dodging your questions and petting your ears so you’d move on. But you weren’t expecting him to furrow his eyebrows and sigh low in his chest, the way his forehead creased and nose flared. It was the same look you got before time out, only this one seemed more defensive than the last. 

“Not now, sweetheart. Please.” Leon’s tone was flat, no room for argument no matter how much your wriggled and squeezed your body between the cracks. Your tail’s wag deflated, slowing to nothing more than a slight sway. The snow felt a little colder after that.

December 30th

Christmas had been nothing short of a success in the Kennedy household, with Leon’s living room being covered in scattered wrapping paper and a whole new variety of toys in pastel colours. He was delighted. This may have been one of the few times he actually enjoyed a holiday rather than loathing it. Maybe it was because you were there, so he wasn’t spending it alone like he usually did. The way you’d spun in circles and yapped happily about it being Christmas morning.

It had been your first real Christmas ever. Your first Christmas not spent in a cage, where you got toys and ate warm meals with the man you loved, with Claire and Becca and Chris and Jill coming over for lunch under the fluorescent glow of the Christmas lights you’d insisted Leon put up. You’d sat by the tree unwrapping gifts with the fastest wagging tail Leon had ever seen, ears perked to attention and eyes wide and sparkling. He was glad, honoured really, to witness this moment of pure unbridled joy for you.

The two of you spent most if not all of Boxing Day lazing around the house in your pajamas, cuddling by the fireplace and bundling under blankets for more than a few naps. Lazy days, oh how you both loved them. Soon it was the 26th, then the 27th,so on and so on. 

Now, the christmas paper had been collected, the tree’s decorations were slowly taken down in day by day intervals, and you sat politely by the glass door to the backyard watching the snow. Leon figured if there was ever a time to truly explain to you the truth behind his career, it was likely now. A tough conversation to have, but one that needed to happen. He just couldn’t leave you in the dark like this, not any longer. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” “Hm?”

There it was. That innocent lilt, the curve of your neck as you craned to look at him. You were something too pure to be sitting on the floor of his home. You deserved mattress upon mattress like the princess and the pea, only he wouldn’t be an idiot like the ones in that book. Leon knew better than to leave under the bed unattended in case there were coyotes trying to nip at his sweet girl’s toes and tail.

Softening, that’s what he was doing. Cracking. This wasn’t going to end well and he knew it. “Y’know how daddy doesn’t like to talk about work?”

Uh oh, now you knew it was time for a serious talk. Not like when you dirtied the rug, this time you weren’t in trouble. Still you looked at him so gently, with such trust while that mountain of fluffy fur behind you swished. Because if it was serious, it was important. “Yeah.”

Leon patted the spot on the couch beside him, complete with a pretty pink bone print blanket for you to settle on, to which you trotted yourself over as dainty as could be. Hopping up next to him, a tail curled around your back. Getting yourself cozy under his arm with your head nestled right next to his chest. Listening to the steady thrum of his heart as his pulse picked up. Doing so much, yet so little, and it all comforted him.

 It was starting to sink in. He was telling you. He was opening the casket, dragging the corpse of his past through the dirt to pose for a real, living person. How was he supposed to break this to you? How did you even word his job without saying ‘I might die one day’?

“Well, that’s cause what I do is pretty dangerous, puppy. I don’t want to worry you with all the stuff I have to do.” The violence, the bloodshed, the screaming. Flashes of red that haunted his dreams, the ones you’d nudge at his face over until he’d wake up because you heard him muttering in his sleep.

“Why?” You were so oblivious to his little inner world, the one he made sure to hide from you. The one filled with guilt and shame. He wanted to keep it that way, but what choice did he have? How could he keep you safe if you had no idea what you were being kept safe from? You should be worried about what colour skirt to wear, or if your collar matches your outfit, not this bullshit. 

“Because it’s just better for you to sit and wait for me to get home at the end of the day, baby.” It was better for you to expect him home every day. 

It was better for both of you if you just always thought he was coming home.

 It made his heart break so hard his ribs snapped thinking about you sitting by the big bay window, tail flicking and throat weeping whimpers if he didn’t show up for a few days. Then weeks. Then eventually someone would have to take you in, pack up all your toys. They’d find the list he kept stashed on the top of the fridge just in case; instructing anyone who found you on just how you liked your food and which stories to whisper in your ear at night when the thunder got too loud. 

You’d never go willingly. Someone would have to leash you and tug you out the door to their car. You’d cry. You’d cry so hard your throat would die out hoarse. It would probably be Claire or Chris or Becca picking you up, he’d have to hope. The thought of some stranger from the DSO taking you from his home, your home, the home you shared together, had him swallowing down a lump. He knew you’d never recover from it. It would shatter you, after sitting in a kennel alone for so long and finally crawling out of your shell, just to lose the person you so clearly loved more than anyone else. Fuck, Leon could feel his eyes watering.

But he couldn’t do that to you. He just couldn’t. It would be the cruelest thing in the world for him to abandon you without any choice in the matter. If he were a stronger man he’d have retired by now. But he wasn’t stronger. He had no backbone when it came to his job, the government, the United States as a whole. Some fucking hero. He was more like a lapdog, breaking his neck for a board of people who didn’t give a shit about him. Taking the scraps he was offered.

“Daddy, you’re crying..” Your sad voice pulled him back into reality, where you were now taking those soft hands of yours to wipe away his tears. Wet streaks that lined the creases forming in his scarred over skin. He was getting too old for this. Too old to be bottling up these feelings for days on end. Wearing himself down for the sake of denying what he felt.

“Fuck, sorry sweetheart. It’s just.. It’s my job to keep you safe. But it’s also my job to keep everyone else safe, too. And your daddy’s been through everything, honey. Zombies, parasites, bioterrorism, war, the whole five yards. I’ve had so many people turn their backs on me or- or look to me for help for so long that it drives me crazy to even think of you worrying about me not coming home.”

How long had it been since he’d cried? Really cried? How much more could a man like Leon take? Sure he was strong, he had to be. Built up from broken beginnings on bloodied glass, shitty past relationships and world-ending catastrophes. But he was only human for Christ’s sake.

And maybe he was finally starting to sober up to that realization.

“I always think you’ll come home..”

Of course you did. Of course you, this sweet angel of a puppy girl, looked up at him with those watery eyes filled with confidence in such a statement. As if you loved him so much it almost poured from your lash line in heart shaped droplets. You had such hope despite where he’d adopted you from. Had he done that? It was odd to think about. How someone as shitty as him (in his perspective at least) had gotten you to blossom and bloom into the sweet thing you were today.

“Yeah, why’s that honey?”

“Cause you’re Leon, and Leon is the strongest person I know.”

The weight of your head now resting against his shoulder was like an anchor that stopped Leon from washing out on the beach of his despairs. He wasn’t left to drift off into oblivion, to drown in his sorrows and regrets. He had you. You had him. A hand came out to instinctively pet over the warm fuzz of your floppy ears, and he seeked out the comfort that came with your presence.

It was comforting, the quiet. Not tense or awkward. Like the waves of the ocean sloshing to a slow and serene sway after a tsunami or a tidal wave. To know you saw him as your hero, that you held him in such high regard. It made every grey hair and creased feature feel worth it. Everything he did, he did it for you. And for once it didn’t feel like a pressure, or a burden, it was a responsibility he was glad to shoulder. Like he were your knight in shining armour.

“Why’d you never tell me you went through all that stuff?” Even now as you spoke your voice was low and soft, sweet to his ears like a drizzling of warm honey right to his cochlea. Those homemade remedies for aches and pains.

Even now he found himself chuckling to get through this, an ache in his chest with each exhale. Someone had set a cinderblock on his chest, and you were mustering up all the strength in those little paws to ease it off. “And ruin what we’ve got going on right here? I wasn’t gonna risk that.”

Apparently that was the wrong answer, because now you were perked upright with the slightest of pouts perched atop your lips. Disagreement etched into your features. “S’ not ruined, dummy. It just means I get to say I love you a whole lot more.”

Now it was his turn to snort sincerely. Always so stubborn. Adorable, sweet, but stubborn. "Oh, is that so?”

“Mhm. So when things are yuck it’ll be easier to remember that I love you. Cause I’ll say it as many times as I gotta until you believe it.”

You ruined him, and not in a bad way. You took the world’s smallest pick to the world’s coldest iceberg and chipped back his layers sliver by sliver. Sculpting him back into what he once was before the world dumped cold water onto him and froze over the softness that lay within. 

Leon’s hand stroked aimlessly over the curve of your head, tracing over the edges of your hair gently. Even with the scrapes on his knuckles and bruises on his palms he always made sure to be soft with you. His voice, half cracked and brimming with affection, was quiet as he whispered back. “I love you too, puppy. You’re my best girl.”

Firewood crackled in a low, jagged white noise in the background, smoothing into a quiet simmer that cast a warm orange glow against the walls. Bathing the room in heat, one that you both let wrap around you like a safety blanket. You found haven in each other, because no matter what, you always came back to one another. Leon was your owner, after all. It was his job to ensure you had the best life, with all the comforts you could ask for and then some.

And he planned to do just that. Whether it meant dumping out all the alcohol in his house or not.

“So.. Do I get more presents?” It’s a teeny voice against his shirt that had him tilting his chin down to look at you.

“Well no puppy, the next holiday is New Years Eve. We don’t give presents then, only Christmas.” A pretty straight forward explanation, or at least that’s what it felt like to him.

“Why?” Another chirp.

His brow arched. “Cause Christmas is only once a year, sweetie.”

“Why?” And another. “Okay, we’re not starting this.”

God, just wait until you find out about birthdays. Then he’s done for.

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[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Gojo's s/o ignoring him and not making him sweets after he made them mad? Not in a mean way, they're grumpy but still want him to live longer so they still pack lunch for him. Just no more sweets.

Gojo opened his bento for lunch with his precious students, and frowned immediately when he saw there was no dessert in his lunch box.

For the past few days now, [Y/N] had been mad at him. He couldn’t figure out why and at this point he was too embarrassed/concerned to ask. They acted fairly normal, but the shift in their demeanor had subtly shifted. They would push his arms away when he tried to hug him. They slept on “their side of the bed” instead of in the middle with him like they always do. They hardly texted him at all through out the day other than maintenance text like ‘what do you want for dinner?’ ‘when will you be home?’ ‘pick up milk.’

The kicker though was that they weren’t packing him any treats in his lunch box. [Y/N] knew how much of a sweet tooth Gojo had. They usually thought it was cute. But the past few days he had been without homemade treats, and he had to resort to store bought vending machine snacks to get by.

Still, Gojo ate his bento in its entirety. Because despite the lack of sweets it was still very good and he wouldn’t waste it. When he got home that evening, he decided to take the bull by the horns. Gojo would have to ask what was going on and fall on his sword for an apology.

He just hoped their wasn’t a real sword involved.

“[Y/N], can you tell me what’s wrong?” Gojo asked. Just jumping right in when he came through the door and saw them doing dishes.

“What? What are you talking about?” They weren’t playing dumb. They were literally caught off guard by his question.

“I know something is up. You’ve been distant lately. Cold.” He watched as they put down the sponge with a sigh.

“I’ve been distracted.”

“Too distracted to put snacks in my bento.” Gojo muttered to himself quietly. He knew it was petty, but he needed those sweets to function. “Look, if you just…tell me what’s wrong, I’ll fix it. I’ll apologize. We’ll move on. We’ll go get ice cream.”

“I don’t want ice cream.” ‘Well not everything is about you’ He wanted to say, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. “You didn’t do anything. Not…technically.”

Gojo arched a brow. “What does ‘not technically’ mean?” Usually if he did something, he 100% did it and there was no question that he did it. Gojo never claimed to be the model of temperance, patience, or restraint, but he’s also never been ‘kind of in trouble’ for something.

“I’m pregnant.” That left a haymaker in his gut. “It’s why I’ve been distracted. I was trying to figure out what to do and how to tell you, and I guess I thought I was playing it cool. Sorry if you felt left out in the ‘cold’.”

Gojo rubbed his head. Oh shit, he felt bad for that now. But there was an overwhelming feeling coming up inside him. He rushed over to [Y/N] and scooped them in a hug. “Why didn’t you just tell me?!”

“Well…it’s not like we planned this. And I wasn’t sure you wanted kids.”

“What are you talking about?! I love kids!” He was the best teacher in the whole world.

“You love teenagers you only have to spend a few hours a day with.” Fair. “A baby is…different.”

“Yeah, but it’s our baby.” He told them. Leaning in to press their foreheads together.

This was a much surprise than anything he could have hoped for in his lunches. He and his beloved were going to have a baby. There was no sweeter treat than that.

[triscuitsandspraycheese]

what kibble do you recommend for cats?

Oh man, I don't think anyone's asked me this stuff on here before lol. This is a big question with a lot of correct answers. I'm gonna provide some context before listing brands.

Warning: it's long (but thorough!)

The goal when choosing a diet for your pet should be to target the companies that do the most regular testing of their diets as well as the most regular, consistent involvement with board-certified veterinary nutritionists.

A lot of "mid tier" companies can pay a board-certified veterinary nutritionist to formulate the original recipes, and then they go ahead and sell them with the Nutritional Adequacy Statement that the diet is formulated to meet AAFCO standards for adult maintenance. But in reality, when the recipe is tested, it might not be identical to the formulation, so some aspects of the diet might not be perfectly as they were intended. Basically... testing is important. The gold standard is to look for diets that say they were TESTED to meet AAFCO standards for adult maintenance, not just formulated to meet AAFCO standards.

This Nutritional Adequacy Statement must be present on ALL pet food bags, cans, pouches, treats, chews, literally any pet food product that is intended for consumption of any kind in the US. It will be one sentence long and clarify who this product is intended for as well as what qualifications it meets. If it says it's appropriate per AAFCO standards for adult maintenance, it means it meets the requirements for a healthy adult dog to eat that product regularly without being deficient in any nutrients. This is the BARE MINIMUM.

(Pro tip: You can just ask companies for their nutrient testing data for diets. The really good ones will be able to give you the full AAFCO panel with all the nutrients you can test for. Some companies might be like "nah that's too many, you can ask about a few ingredients at a time", and that's fine. If they have data to share, it means they've run at least one test recently. If they won't share any of their testing data other than what is legally required by the FDA, which is called the "Guaranteed Analysis", then they probably haven't run any real testing beyond that. Be wary of those companies.)

2. Companies that have a lot of money have time to run more tests to make sure their product doesn't have excessive levels of heavy metals, mycobacterium, required nutrients that can become toxic (think Vitamin D), etc. They also have money to buy facilities that can safely produce food and be regularly cleaned and sanitized daily.

Companies that are just starting out or are trying to work their way up won't have the money to buy the enormous facilities and kitchens required to mass produce their product for consumers. I know it's very tempting to support small businesses, but pet food is not one I would recommend. Think about the last time your local mom and pop diner had their paint tested for lead or their ice machine deeply sanitized and checked for mold. And then think about the overkill protocols in place by the monster fast food corporations like Taco Bell or In n Out who have more money than god and write you up for not adhering to their insane cleaning protocols.

When corporations have reputations to lose, legacies in place, they go above and beyond to make sure they are legally protected in every single aspect of their business. This applies to cleanliness, but also to things like recalls from toxic levels of a nutrient in the diet, testing for bone fragments or other foreign objects in food, removing the possibility of human error from the feeding process for your pet. Corporations above all else want to avoid legal problems, which means they will go above and beyond (I can't believe I'm saying this) to uphold the safety measures in place for their final product.

Basically, the more money they have, the more money they can spend on safety protocols so they can't get sued for something bad like accidentally making hundreds of dogs sick and having their reputation destroyed.

3. Marketing. My god, marketing has become such a shit show in the last few years with influencers and social media. Listen, if a pet food company is spending its hard earned dollars trying to scare the shit out of you by demonizing some random thing or another company, it's probably not real and they're just grasping at straws. If they're desperately trying to convince you that kibble is evil, or that Company B sucks for reasons X, Y, Z, or that you've been feeding your pet wrong this whole time and it's going to KILL THEM unless you feed *our product*, know that they are most definitely full of shit.

There is no magic diet for things like making your pet live twice as long or for curing cancer. It just doesn't exist yet, and trust me when I say companies are trying. The first pet food company that can prove their product makes pets live longer in a repeatable research study is going to be a gazillionaire.

But I digress. I don't recommend giving money to companies who spend money on incendiary marketing campaigns. If a company is trying to upset you, that's weird. A good product speaks for itself and/or has the backing of licensed (key word: licensed) professionals in that specialty making that recommendation.

"Certified Pet Nutritionist" and "Certified Animal Nutritionist" are NOT LICENSED MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS. There is no license required to call yourself that. They watch videos online for like six hours and then get emailed a pdf certificate. They are not licensed medical professionals, despite their best intentions. Be wary of any medical or nutrition advice you get from someone who calls themselves that.

Finally, the fucking list:

My cats both have medical problems so they're on prescription diets, but here are the regular brands I highly recommend if you have money to burn.

Top Tier

Royal Canin, Hills, Purina

Okay, I know what you must be saying. "That shit is expensive, dude. I'm not buying that."

But listen to me... these parent companies that make the expensive pet foods also make the mid tier pet foods and the affordable pet foods. MARS (who owns Royal Canin) is the biggest pet food manufacturer in the world has might actually have more money than god. Purina is owned by Nestle. Hills is partially owned by Colgate and is rollin in dough enough to make an affordable version of their top tier product.

ANY pet food company that is under the umbrella of one of these monster corporations will have the same testing and sanitation protocols as the "top tier" fancy ass pet food companies.

So all you have to do is see what pet food companies are owned by MARS or Nestle or Hills and pick what's in your price range.

This is MARS:

This is Purina:

And Hills just has Science Diet, I believe.

If it makes you feel better, I fed my cats Fancy Feast for literally a decade, and they loved it and had killer blood work results until they reached their older years.

Also, just a caveat: There are literally hundreds of pet food companies out there, more growing by the minute, so I'm sure there are also a lot of other great companies who make kibble for cats. You can use the info above to ask the right questions to the poor, overworked customer service agents who will hopefully be able to provide the info you need to make an informed decision.

Oh, and make sure to talk to your veterinarian before making any dietary changes for your pet! Seriously! None of this is intended to be a substitution for medical advice.

[yanderes-galore]

I hope you are having a good day. Could you write a platonic concept for Glamrock Freddy sharing reader with Glamrock Bonnie? I replayed Ruin and seeing Freddy's poster again made me think that those two friends (or more, if you want to see them that way) would be a great team and work together to keep the reader to themselves.

Yeah I can do that, was not entirely sure how to write Bonnie so I winged it.

Yandere! Platonic Glamrock Freddy + Bonnie Sharing a Darling

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Isolation, Forced companionship.

There's no canon Glamrock Bonnie personality but I'm going to make a new version compared to my other one.

We can assume Bonnie is very caring as Eclipse's line was meant to be for him if I remember correctly.

As a result, both bots are very caring to guests and STAFF.

We can assume this whole concept took place before Monty breaking Bonnie and the missing kids.

Bonnie is probably a little arrogant but not as much as his other counterparts.

For the most part he'd probably be similar to Freddy.

Although I also imagine him as carefree and fun loving.

You are most likely close to the two as their mechanic like I do in most fics, or at the very least you work at the Pizzaplex somehow.

I think you're right to assume the two would share a darling.

They're best friends and nearly inseparable.

I can't imagine the two fighting so they'll have no big problems sharing.

You often visit Bonnie Bowl and the Main Stage to see the two.

Unbeknownst to you, you're their favorite.

The blue bunny and orange bear often meet up to speak about their best friend.

They see you as part of their duo now trio.

They only bond even more when they realize they have a shared connection with you.

I imagine they'd gush about you to each other and are very excited when you stop by.

The two are no doubt your biggest fans and hope you care for them too.

Of course these two are going to be a great team.

They both keep track of you and share information about you with each other.

You always have a pair of eyes on you as you work.

At this point they know what you bring to lunch, where you frequent, what you like… they have a lot more information than they should.

As your friends… they have to learn everything, right?

That's what they tell each other as they pry into your personal life.

Obviously you'll notice you see the two everywhere.

They are the bots you see most often.

I imagine they'd both act as parental friends or dads at times with you.

They have to watch you for overworking, right?

Oh! Can't have you getting hurt, either.

Care for an ice cream? You can hang out with them at Bonnie Bowl!

You try not to feed into their behavior as you don't want to be fired for slacking off.

Such information makes the two upset.

Their friend can be taken away from them that easily?

Hm… that won't do.

They definitely act like robot caretakers at times.

If you express any emotions that aren't normal or have any injury, one of them is checking in.

Bonnie will have you follow him to Bonnie Bowl for a couple of games.

Freddy's checking you over and even passing you a plush toy.

It's nice they care but they make it difficult to get them to do their job.

The STAFF members keep giving weird looks.

Honestly, if you ever felt like quitting or were told you were being fired, you'd end up disappearing.

Why? Well, your two “friends” ended up taking you away.

Oh, they never liked the other STAFF around you anyways.

They also didn't appreciate you ignoring them.

There's no need to worry! They'd never hurt you.

So there's no need to look so scared as they stare down at you from the darkness.

They made a little room for you in the maintenance tunnels.

They'll feed you, care for you, and be your best friends!

Don't leave your little room… they made it just for you!

They filled it with merch of themselves, there's an old arcade machine, a collection of blankets and pillows to be your bed….

They couldn't just let you leave!

Now you won't have to…

With them… you'll have endless fun!

So please… stop crying… give them a smile!

[clarefrigeration]

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[fixice2]

Avoid Meltdowns: Pro Tips for Extending Your Soft Serve Machine's Lifespan

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[crystalcleanice]

Unveiling Common Issues with Ice Machines in Everett: How Proper Cleaning Can Prevent Them

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[toovaeloe]

McWhipped | the ice cream machine “broke” and Satoru isn’t taking it very well

satoru gojo x genderneutral reader

elaboration of a joke/fluff and horrible decade late McDonald’s jokes, proceed at your own risk

Dear god almighty do you wish you stayed working at that pretentious little cafe. Yeah, maybe people were picky about their coffee and your manager had sucked ass. And yeah, the pay was shit— but at least the hours were reasonable.

Anything, Anything beat this.

Currently your place of work was a golden arch prison.

And the only hours that worked in your schedule…were the typical Dolly Parton 9-5.

9pm to 5am, that is.

It’s okay; you could forgo getting sleep at night and retreat to your apartment with every light off and shade drawn like a vampire allergic to sunlight in the morning. It was temporary, only for a few months before everything got worked out with your newer more professional job. You just had to make enough to pay rent and keep something resembling food on the table until then.

That’s what you had thought, anyway.

But the thing is, since there were so little people in the evening/early morning hours from about 1am to 4am at your particular McDonald’s location, you worked on your own for a good chunk of your shift. Which was fine; nobody came in and the drive thru orders were sparse.

But this wasn’t even the worst of it.

Not even a few days into your first work week you caught wind of the “McFlurry Man.”

It was kind of like the location’s very own urban legend; a strange but oddly enough attractive man who wears an eye covering but doesn’t seem to be quite blind, coming in every couple of months or so and ordering a dozen Oreo McFlurries all for himself at the ripe hour of 2-3am. It was like death by McFlurry every time he showed his face to the sorry sap working. McDoom, if you will.

And guess who was working when he decided to show his face again.

Unfortunately for you, Satoru had taken quite a liking to you; always lingering at the register when he came in for his impromptu McDonald’s indulgences. The only compensation was his god-sculpted face and sometimes engaging late-night conversations.That, and the fat, fat tip he always left, too. That made it probably the most lucrative fast food gig to ever be.

Oh, and his every couple month splurges??

Try three times weekly now.

He just couldn’t get enough of your pretty face; all scrunched up and annoyed whenever he showed up— the initial look of dread when you heard the tell-tale bell chime at the door at an obscenely late hour. There was something about watching you work to make his inhumane order that had its charms, too.

He adored you. You hated him.

You thought he was messing with you— no. You knew he was fucking with you. Changing up his order, sending it back with a Cheshire smirk if you somehow goofed it up, sometimes going as far as to get double.

But you didn’t quit, did you? Didn’t hand in your two weeks. You tell yourself it’s for the gigantic gratuity he leaves. You need the money, right? Right.

Your last day. 1:58am.

You were practically haunting the counter at this point; a shell of a human who was ready to get the hell out of this godforsaken place. Soon you’d get to work at your actual job, high-paying and professional. God, you couldn’t wait.

And just as you were daydreaming…you heard the toll of the doorbell. Goddammit.

“GOOOOOooood Morning, beautiful!” Satoru declared his presence with grandiose, sing song tone grating on your last nerve as he strolled over to the counter.

“I’m sure you know what I want,” He hummed as he perched himself over half the marble, grinning at you with a mischievous air. “The usual, if you would. You’re a doll.”

And you know what? You’ve heard rumors of the ice cream machine breaking down, of it being under maintenance and unable to be used. You didn’t think you could bear the hassle of his usual. And it was your last shift. The “McFlurry Man”could burn in McHell for every shit you gave.

“Sorry, sir,” You sighed with exasperation and feigned disappointment that couldn’t quite mask your dispassion for what would undoubtedly be the man you’ve come to learn as Gojo’s greatest tragedy. “but the machine’s broken.”

He chuckled, shoulders bouncing as he leaned further over the surface. “Oh, but it’s not. C’mon, Sweetheart, ain’t I your favorite customer?”

You couldn’t tell if you were caught in your lie or if the man was just truly senile over ice cream. “No, I mean it, sir. I can’t fix it. It should be repaired by tomorrow.” You furthered your lie in favor of giving in.

His exuberance melted away in a near instant. His expression turned calculating for a mere moment, lips pulled into a thin line as he assessed you. He still didn’t believe you— no. He knew you were lying. But then he clicked his tongue decisively, assumably having come to terms with a course of action.

He was going to deploy the worst tantrum an adult man could muster.

“Really?” His tone was broken, grief-stricken, as if he could barely utter the word. And you swear you heard a sob escape his throat, his shaky hands gripping the counter for stability as he fell to his knees against the side of it.

You couldn’t believe what you were watching, in shock and disbelief, baffled as his hand dragged down the greasy surface of the register countertop, knuckles turning the same shade as his hair as he began desperately pleading with you, wailing, whimpering, sniffling— even pulling down his infamous blindfold to reveal glossy blue eyes lined with tears. And making the worst McDonald puns you’ve ever had the displeasure of hearing.

“Please-! My heart…it..Mchurts,” Yeah, yours would, too if you were consuming roughly 9,636 calories every other night.

“You can’t Mcdo this to me…” When would he just give up and leave??

“Sweetcheeks….please?”

His cries had calmed to a near whisper while you had zoned out, long enough for this oaf to reach over the counter for your hand and gingerly intertwine his fingers with yours. His cheek rested smooshed against the definitely questionably cleaned counter space, lips pressed together in a pout and every cobalt fleck amongst his gaze focused on you, so saccharinely pathetic that it was deplorable. This whole situation deserved a shame-cam.

“don’t do this to me.”

yeah i don’t know what this is but it’s a little funny 😭

image credits: kianx on Pinterest !!!!

[airconditioninggloucester]

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