#spiral sliced ham

[sunshinesight]

Easter dinner transpired…

Spiral sliced ham, carrots, redskin potatoes, baked beans, biscuits, and pink jello salad.

[padowshams]

Buy half bone-in spiral sliced honey cured ham with glaze available exclusively at Padow's Hams! Our bones are honey cured hams are spiral sliced around the bone.

[erabundus]

anonymous &&. said... Are you an other god that wants to terrorize liyue?

We had to deal with one that got summoned by your harbinger boyfriend and that gods girlfriend came also for an asswhooping a month later.

❝  don't  flatter  yourself;  i  couldn't  care less  about  liyue.  ❞   that  isn't  entirely  true  —  by  his  reasoning,  there  are  approximately  three  things  he  cares  about  in  all  of  liyue.  perhaps  three  and  a  half,  though  that  is  being  quite  loose  with  one's  definition  of  care.  (  care  in  the  sense  that  one  may  care  about  a  particularly  interesting  beetle.  )

however ... the air still grows heavy with killing intent.

❝  call  him,  ❞  ugh  gag,   ❝  my  boyfriend  one  more  time,  and  i'll  personally  see  to  it  that  you're  forced  to  rethink  your  definition  of  SUFFERING.  ❞

[yokohamapound]

BSD Characters React to Getting Shat On By A Bird 🕊️

No, I'm totally not writing these to make myself feel better after getting bird-splattered on my way home from work. T-T

Characters: Osamu Dazai, Nakahara Chuuya, Kunikida Doppo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Nakajima Atsushi, Sigma

Contents: 💩

Osamu Dazai

Dazai might react in one of two ways.

If he's on his own, it's a muted, annoyed kind of disgust. He just feels the impact and sighs.

"Ugh, really?"

He might shove his head into the Yokohama river to try and wash it out. Whether or not he remembers to pull his head up again is another story.

If he's around other people, however, Dazai hams it up more than a pig in a blanket.

His whole body clenches, his shoulders hunching toward his ears and his hands hovering near his hair but not quite touching it. His face is an exaggerated rictus of disgust.

"Get it off, get it off, get it off! Eww!"

He runs at Kunikida and tries to wipe it off on him, only to get himself punted across the room. That isn't enough to stop Dazai, though. He'll theatrically pour water over himself, retching, gagging, and bemoaning his bad luck and the cruel fates for doing this to him.

Nakahara Chuuya

Thankfully, Chuuya's lovely red hair is safe from the bird shit thanks to his hat, but on the other hand, his hat. He freezes as soon as he feels the splatter against his hat. Reaching up slowly, he takes the brim of his hat between thumb and forefinger and lifts it off his head.

Chuuya's face contorts with anger and disgust. There's shit on his hat. There's shit on his hat.

He resists the urge to drop the hat in disgust, since that might damage it further. Instead his ire snaps upward toward the bird that just ass-bombed him. Little does it know that its victim is not bound by the laws of gravity. Chuuya can follow it.

And that he fucking does.

He shoots into the air, cracking the asphalt underfoot, and goes gunning after the hapless bird, which is probably terrified to find a pissed-off ginger zooming after it at mach speeds.

Later, once the bird is 'taken care of' Mafia-style, Chuuya will take his soiled hat to a specialist cleaning place. Yes, he's got a hat cleaning place—this is Chuuya we're talking about.

Kunikida Doppo

Kunikida does not have time for this. Perhaps it is a personal failing, but he didn't account for the potential of being shat on by a bird en route to the office in the morning. Now he's standing there with egg on his face and crap on his hair, regretting his life choices.

Frustration builds in him like a volcano, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. As long as he is calm and rational about this, it should not impact his precious schedule too much.

Thankfully, he does have all manner of supplies to hand. Namely a water bottle and a handkerchief to try and clean himself off as best he can in the nearest reflective surface. He uses his handy dandy notebook to conjure up a solid shampoo bar and cleans himself up.

All in all, he only ends up being three minutes, thirty-seven seconds late to the office. No one even notices, but Kunikida is left irked for the rest of the day. Also, he doesn't know how but he's sure Dazai is behind it somehow. Maybe he's been teaching the birds how to target blonde men with glasses, preparing months in advance for just this day.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Akutagawa goes still, and his eyes go very, very wide, until you feel like you're staring down tunnels into the Abyss. The bird guano is stark white against his dark hair. His nostrils flare.

"RASHOUMON."

A tendril of darkness slices from the back of his coat and slashes the bird in midair, sending feathers spiralling down to dust the earth around him.

He stares down at the offending creature's carcass like an god of dark justice.

"Foul beast."

Growing up in the slums, Akutagawa was used to being dirty, covered in mud, blood, and all kinds of filth, but he will not take the disrespect of any man nor beast, least of all a pigeon.

Nakajima Atsushi

This is not the first time for poor, unfortunate Atsushi, and probably not the last. He flinches when the splatter lands on top of his head, automatically closing his eyes. He's used to being spat on or having food poured over his head.

"Ah, jeez."

At least the bird crap isn't personal.

Atsushi probably just snips off the locks of befouled hair and then scrubs his hands. His hair is already a tufty mess, and he's usually too busy running around for the Agency to run home and shower again. That is, until Kunikida hears what happens and sprays him with disinfectant.

Sigma

Poor Sigma. Doesn't he have enough on his plate without being target practice for a bird who doesn't eat enough fibre? He's under enough stress already.

The bird shit is the tipping point, and he might just cry.

His face twitches when he feels it. The cold dollop on his head, ruining his pretty hair, making his neck want to retract back into his spine. His eyes widen as he looks upward to see the feckless offender flying away, soon lost to the horizon as it flies beyond the reach of the Sky Casino.

Sigma gags, his hands fluttering a little as he doesn't know what to do. He's only three years old and this has never happened to him before.

He runs toward his private quarters, lest anyone see the General Manager looking so undignified. He flings himself into his bathroom and sticks his head directly under the shower, running the water as hot as he can stand.

He washes it twice. Thrice. Then wraps it in a hair mask and huddles in his quarters with a stiff drink and his hair in a towel. Poor thing.

[popjunkie42]

Painted Blind: Chapter Four

Read on AO3

Chapter Four: As admiration and worship for the hero of the human lands grows, Feyre chafes under the attention. At an unexpected announcement, she watches her future spiral out of her control.

Thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for beta reading!

Chapter Four under the cut.

Nesta slapped at my skirts for the third time since the speeches had begun. I was tugging at the lace collar on this fucking dress…

I dropped my hand and scowled.

The itch of the wool, the tightness of the collar that choked back every swallow…it was oppressive.

The afternoon sun was pale, as if sensing its power had fully waned on this, the longest night of the year. Standing uncomfortably on a wooden stage, my sisters on one hand, my father standing with the mayor and his family behind a podium, I did my best to ignore the crowd.

They stretched out before us, three times the number of people in our little village, most of them in fine hats and suits and rich winter dresses. All of them staring up at us. My skin was hot, even in the cold of the early evening.

The mayor had started droning on a while back, something I couldn’t pay much attention to. A jolly bustle of a man, he looked fat and happy with his wealth, his cheeks ruddy in the winter cold. He smiled easily, and the fit of his suit was immaculate. I wondered if what his family was wearing today cost more than my entire reward.

The speeches had begun after lunch, a picnic where my sisters and I had tried hard to pretend we weren’t hungry, that we saw this sort of lavish spread on the regular. Roasted chicken and small pheasants dressed with winter vegetables, glimmering slices of ham, golden rolls with pats of butter that glistened, spiced wine and candied winter berries for dessert. I watched Nesta swallow thickly as she spooned a moderate, polite amount of food on her plate. Next to me, Elain was licking the greasy chicken fat off of her dainty fingers and trying hard to hide it. Despite all our mother’s hissed lessons about small, dainty bites and demure ladylike appetites, we all ate until we groaned.

The entire town had gathered around, now staring rapt at me and the garrulous mayor, the breath of them all rising up in the cold like steam above their heads.

“Wipe that look off of your face,” Nesta hissed.

We had been taken to the town last night. Given rooms at the mayor’s house, each bedroom finer than our whole cottage. In the morning, I had been bathed and scrubbed and plucked until my skin burned. The maids tutted at my cracked nails and the dirt underneath they couldn’t quite scrub clean.

Afterwards, they had shoved me into a frilled woolen dress. A monstrous thing. Stockings and corsets and lace trim and shoes with heels so high my arches ached. I stumbled around the room like a newborn fawn, clasping and flexing my good hand into anxious fists. I had the overwhelming urge to rip the entire outfit off and run into the woods.

I swallowed the desire to tug at my collar again, the lace itching against my dry skin. It choked me, like a snare around my neck.

Clothing like this hadn’t been in our closets since I was a child. But the feeling was still familiar, my clumsy small hands ripping away my skirts and sleeves, rushing outside to climb the willow beside the manor, mother furious with me after all the dirt and ruin.

And now Nesta was here to take her place.

My sister wore the slightest of confident smiles, looking regally over her upturned nose at the crowd below. Elain beamed, her face full of joy and sunlight even in the pale wintery afternoon. Both of them looked aggravatingly at home in their new finery, warm in their spotless coats and scarves and soft leather gloves.

A terrible itch creeped up my neck, down my spine.

Standing there, I felt a nagging sensation, like I was in the woods and hadn’t yet spotted something that had spotted me.

Looking across the stage, I saw the Mayor’s son, glaring. As soon as my eyes met his, I swore he looked away with distaste.

He was young, probably about my age or just a year younger. Brown hair, pale skin, soft hands. His eyes were dark and his mouth was locked into a sullen pout.

I had no doubt he was the type to stay far from the forest. Probably had never skinned a rabbit, or felt hunger in his belly.

Apparently, I had offended him personally.

With a wistful smile, the mayor turned to me, and I wished I had been paying better attention. My heart thundered as all eyes in the crowd focused on me.

“We have lived in fear,” the mayor said, turning back to the gathered crowd. The people of Innisville, our old village, the ones that forgot me and my family so easily when the money slipped away. “Even though we live in freedom from faekind, even after five hundred years, we are still controlled by the wall and the terrible things that breach it. We have let ourselves be splintered by disagreements and differences, while the real enemy threatens us from beyond. Our true enemy takes advantage of the discord among us. It is only if we join together that we can push back the dangerous creatures waiting to descend upon us in the dark of night.”

A hearty cheer rose up, mist in the cold.

No wonder he was mayor.

But his words fell flat on my ears. I had suffered more under the hands of my fellow man than any fae or beast, the monster in the cave included.

“Sometimes,” he boomed, his magnanimous smile back on me like the sun, “it takes a great act of bravery and sacrifice to bring us together. It takes an extraordinary person to remind us that we are one. That we are powerful together.” Cheers and murmurs of ascent were bubbling up from the crowd, an echoing call.

I hated every moment of it.

I wasn’t brave, or selfless. I hated the grand sentiments, when all I had ever wanted was a full stomach and safety for my family. I hated the eyes on me, eyes that weeks ago would’ve scorned us. Fine boots that would have kicked at us, teeth that would have gnashed.

But Nesta’s hand was on my back, warm but unyielding, and she pushed me just a few steps forward towards the crowd, my feet stumbling.

“Our entire land has been blessed by this fearless and exceptional girl. Feyre Archeron, the hero of the human lands!” More cheers, and my name ringing across the crowd, from mouths that would have spit on me only weeks before. “Her talents were born out of hardship, but her undaunted spirit belongs to all of us living below the wall and the land of the fae. Although we will always remember those that we lost, we thank the girl who went out into the forest alone, and did what no one thought possible.”

The crowd erupted into applause. I balanced on the edge of the wooden stage, feeling like I might topple into the sea of bodies.

It was too much, too many adoring faces, people I had never met. They didn’t know me. My own story was being told in front of me, like I wasn’t even there to tell it myself. I was a hunter, and I needed those gold coins simply to gain a breath of air. These people in the crowd had been the ones to laugh and sneer at my misery, to ignore our hunger.

I hadn’t done it for a single one of them. Maybe that made me cruel, and heartless, but I knew it was the plain truth even as it hid in the dark shadows of my heart.

But the mayor wasn’t done. Once the cheers and applause had died down, his smile grew even wider, and he looked to my father.

“And, in a gesture we hope will inspire the land, my son Charles,” he motioned to the scowling boy, his face fierce and fixed on the ground in front of him, “is to be wed to our hero, Feyre Archeron. Our families will join together, uniting our villages. To remind us that heroes are among us, and we are stronger together. Feyre,” his eyes twinkling, “welcome to our family.”

The roar of the crowd was deafening, pounding in my skull and shaking my bones. Shock kept me frozen, and despite Nesta’s pinch at my hips, I knew my face was contorted in horror and shock.

My eyes found my father.

He had draped himself with the beast’s fur, like a cloak. Dressed in a dark, layered suit, he continued to smile blandly and ignore me completely.

No wonder Charles had looked murderous. I felt the same.

He was glowering on the edge of the stage, his mother whispering something into his ear with intensity. But he refused to smile.

The celebrating crowd in front of me was a mass of teeth and red cheeks. On the rising of their cheers, I felt my future slip out from under me completely.

.・。.・゜✭・.���✫・゜・。.

Stumbling out of the mayor’s manor, I realized I was well and truly drunk.

It wasn’t for the first time in my short life, but it wasn’t exactly a state I was accustomed to.

Certainly not with such high quality wine, strong and dry slipping down my throat.

There’d been that one time when Isaac swiped a bottle being unloaded behind the tavern, and another when Elain shyly revealed a bottle of wine after we had gone to bed, refusing to share which of her admirers had gifted it to her. We had shared the bottle, taking indelicate swigs straight from the mouth until we giggled with mirth. Until the headaches and hunger hit and we had kicked each other in bed until my shins were bruised.

It hadn’t been like this, though.

The earth swayed under me. Warm light spilled from the side door of the manor, the party in full, brazen swing behind me. My skull felt like it was wobbling on my neck. My feet wouldn’t go where I wanted to put them. Swaying and stumbling, I braced myself still on a leafless tree in the garden.

Forcing my eyes to focus, I examined the bark, the bandaged hand splayed there, my middle finger still bent and unable to fully extend. A mangled claw, I thought. A promise of death and hunger to come.

Or, it had been. Now there was Charles. And a mayor’s manor, and a lifetime of servitude and lace dresses that would choke the life from me.

The thoughts rattled in my head, building and building, turning into something that felt like too much.

My hand grasped the collar of my dress, pulling the insufferable lace away with a loud rip.

Lace fell into dirty snow.

The tree was my lifeline, my body still swaying like I was nothing more than a branch in a heavy breeze. My thoughts went to the hard bark, to the deep roots beneath the frozen earth. I wished for roots to keep me steady. I wished to dig my toes into the ground and sprout branches and leaves. To transform into a peaceful and thoughtless tree, never hungry, never promised to anyone, only drinking rainwater and soaking up the sun.

But it was no good. Something acidic turned in my stomach, and I fell to my knees and retched onto the ground. It burned my throat as it came, wine as dark and red as it was going down. My sick steamed in the snow in front of my quivering arms, the smell bringing up more and more until only dark bile was left.

Behind me, a crunch of snow, a deep sigh. I tried to wipe my mouth clean.

“I see you took my advice to behave yourself very seriously.”

Nesta didn’t seem too shocked by my predicament.

It was hard to focus on her disapproval when my head pounded, and my throat was burning.

“Go fuck yourself,” I rasped, hoarse and slurring.

I expected her to leave. But in a moment, firm hands were on me, pulling me up from my own mess, shoving me back against the bark of my tree.

Tears were leaking out of the side of my eyes, and I groaned as my muscles shook, falling in between the roots. A knob dug into my back.

When I could lift my neck and my eyes finally focused, I saw Nesta perched on a rock in front of my feet. Her skirts were folded neatly in one gloved hand, keeping them smooth and straight from wrinkling or falling into the snow, her feet pressed rigidly together.

I wanted to laugh. I lay in front of her, sprawled on the ground, snow melting and seeping into my dress. My lips stained, the lace at my neck torn, my own sick beside me.

Perhaps Nesta wasn’t wrong, when she called me a feral beast.

We sat in silence for a moment as my breathing calmed, and the biting cold woke up some of my sleeping senses.

“At least he’s a mayor’s son,” Nesta finally said into the quiet, the din of the party seeming far away. “You’ll have a soft bed. Someone else will always chop your firewood. You’ll never be hungry again, Feyre.”

My sister’s coldness gave way slightly. She seemed almost wistful. Even in my drunken state, I could tell some of her fire had been tempered.

But I had none of this calm acceptance. Thinking of Charles again, of that childish pout…fire bloomed on my skin, acid dripped in my mouth.

I spit onto the dirty snow.

“I’d rather be dead,” I hissed out, my throat still burning. “I’d rather starve in the forest. I’d rather the wolves take me.”

Nesta only blinked. “You can’t mean that.”

I locked her with a gaze and hoped I was steadier than I felt.

Nesta didn’t balk at my anger, or my words. By now I should have known better than to try to fight her iciness with my fire. Instead, she watched me with head tilted, a look of pitying curiosity on her face.

“Daughters are to be wed, Feyre. Even ones who hunt in the forest. It was always our fate.” Her eyes shifted to the snow, kicking a toe of her new boot into the hard powder.

Even as I sat on the sopping snow, my skin was burning. I felt an unquenchable fire ignite within me, full of my rage.

“How could he do this to me?” I was angry, and I hated the sullen whine of the voice that came out of me. “I fed him. For five years I fed him. Put food on his own table. I sold my pelts to get his medicine. I rubbed his shoulders when his back seized up.” The words felt like ash in my mouth. Not even the cold of this solstice night could freeze them, stop them from spilling out. “And he…gave me away. Like it was his decision to make. He didn’t even tell me. He didn’t even ask.”

A shrug of Nesta’s shoulders. Infuriating, calculating. “At least Charles is young,” she said into the cold air. “Father just introduced me to Lord Rochester. He must be sixty if he’s a day. A widower, with bad breath and fat fingers and three children older than me.”

I regarded my sister. She had never told me anything like this before, with her voice sad and clear.

“I know it’s vain,” Nesta said, fisting her skirts tighter in her hand, “but I always wanted a handsome husband.” Her eyes seemed very far away. “Someone strong. Someone…worthy of me. Who could match me. That’s what mother used to say.”

I realized that as much as I had wanted peace and a family for both of my sisters, I had never really asked them what they wanted. And here was Nesta, raised to entice royal and rich men alike, now hoping for nothing more than some bare comforts and the dream of a dashing young husband she might never have.

She shrugged. “Maybe you’ll find some peace here, Feyre. Be safe, taken care of. Maybe even happy, some day.” I knew that Nesta spoke of her wishes for herself.

“And,” she said with another careless shrug, “if not, you can lure him out into the woods. Push him off a cliff. Just be smart, and make it look like an accident.”

A laugh punched out of me, quick and unexpected, Nesta raising an eyebrow at the sound.

Deep down, I knew my sister wasn’t joking.

Read on AO3

[definite-human]

If you're broke and living in the US, reminder that December and Easter season are when fully cooked spiral sliced hams go on sale for about $1/lb. Grab that and some freezer bags and you can get a whole lot of protein for very little money

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

my mom for some reason bought a whole spiral cut ham and so it's time for my favorite "low effort quick and easy healthy and delicious dinner with Lu, who just got off a 10 hour shift and is, perhaps, Hangry":

don't talk to me scramble

(so named because when I come home from work and am eating a late supper I want everyone to shut up and let me eat in peace)

YOU WILL NEED:

3 of the biggest eggs you've got - 4 if they're smaller than LargeTM

ham: deli cut works here but I literally just grabbed the spiral cut ham and ripped pieces off with my bare hands until I had a generous handful of Ham Bits (you can probably use whatever lunchmeat you have in your fridge for this tbh)

about like 3 tbsp of cream cheese?? Gordon Ramsay it babey

one(1) slice of pepper jack cheese or whatever kind you like

big handful of spinach (frozen works but I used a slightly wilted leftover salad since it needs eaten soon) or other vegetables of choice. bagged frozen stuff is great in eggs

optional carb (bread, tortilla, biscuits, et cetera)

LET'S CRACK THIS THING.

butter or oil in your pan. crack ya eggs. throw the Ham Bits in immediately or else they will be Cold. once eggs start to cook throw in your SpinchTM or ~vegetals of choice~ so that they'll wilt/heat up. this is the point where you want to toast your bread or heat a tortilla or whatnot, if you're into that kind of thing. once eggs are MOSTLY cooked, toss in your pepper jack and cheem creams and stir it all around until it's melted. it will probably look a bit watery — if this is a texture no-no I suggest making this in omelette form, bc yes, cream cheese is awesome in an omelette. serve with Optional Carb if you wis, or by itself, possibly eaten directly out of the pan you cooked it in. you are adulting so well. your tastebuds and your body think you're the coolest 👍 go forth full, happy, and proud of yourself

[fleshadept]

simultaneously living on my own for the first time & being poor sucks in a lot of ways but i am so appreciative of everything these days. food is so expensive, and it goes bad quickly if you're not paying attention, but it takes months to go bad if you freeze it. i eat a lot of sandwiches and enjoy eggs for breakfast so i bought a spiral-sliced ham which was more expensive than regular ham up front obviously but it's lasted me more than a month and makes me feel fancy to warm up a slice in the pan with my eggs or put it on my sandwich. spices can be super cheap as things go and i've been having a lot of fun adding random ones to my regular dishes to make them even a little better. the things you can do with maruchan ramen (try adding sriracha. oml) is absolutely amazing. good food makes my whole day.

i didn't have a silverware tray (container? standy-uppy-thing?) in the dishwasher when i moved in but something went wrong with the dishwasher and maintenance gave me one when they fixed it! i've never been more excited to load the dishes. it looks so neat in there now. keeping my space clean now that it's my space in general just feels so much more satisfying.

i don't know. a lot of the money stuff sucks and it's stressful but i've been really surprised about how much i've been able to appreciate and enjoy things i didn't before. and finding little things to be way too excited about is so nice

[strqyr]

very intrigued re: your thoughts on cinder’s grimm arm but I’m not sure its symbolism thus far supports your point.

like to me it’s a sign of salem’s power and control over her. it’s creeping up her body and eating her as she does more and more evil to serve a master that doesn’t care about her.

i think if she dies the arm dies with her but if she lives she lives without the arm, just like i think the only way she survives the story is if she breaks free from salem.

also i just feel like it can’t feel good to have grimm be a part of you and i want good things for cinder

i want to pre-face this by saying that my thoughts spiraled from the fairly popular theory that summer tried to destroy / 'purify' salem with her silver eyes and obv it didn't work ( and if you subscribe to the theory that salem got her veins as a result of that, it might have made things 'worse' ) so like. the implications are there.

this might also be all over the place so sorry in advance i just woke up lol

anyway. back to cinder. they've clearly paralleled the grimm arm with the shock collar which definitely muddles the ground re: the fate of the arm, buuuuuut there are some interesting points here as well as differences.

for one, cinder doesn't take the collar off until after the madame is dead and the fight with rhodes is over, signifying a power struggle—the madame shocks cinder to no affect; she holds no power over cinder any more with or without the collar—and the main failure of rhodes—he was the huntsman supposed to help, but cinder only took the collar of after his death.

in V8 cinder and salem already had their power struggle which resulted in salem having to give 'concessions' ( for the lack of better term ) to cinder lest she wanted to lose her bc cinder was going to do her own thing ( and almost getting herself killed. no good ) rather than follow salem's orders. and then cinder lied to salem who does not like being lied to so either she pulled it off successfully ( doubtful with how much she hammed it up ) or salem let it go bc she's got two relics now and reprimanding cinder would ruin the moment of success.

something something balance cannot be restored with force or calculations true balance finds it own equilibrium it only requires love and the patience to see things through in the end something something the villains do be getting it.

and through it all, the grimm arm remained.

unlike the shock collar, too, the grimm arm cannot be easily removed; slicing it off won't work as it will just grow back ( which begs the question of it's origin, as regrowing is not regular grimm behavior ), and, well. silver eyeing it is a bit of an odd choice when that's the reason cinder lost her arm in the first place, so... how do you remove it?

also, thinking about silver eyes and grimm, specifically ruby challenging maria's notion that the eyes only work against grimm bc she used them against cinder, "perhaps there was something that you weren't seeing" <- obvious answer is the grimm arm but atlas arc has come and gone, ruby has seen the arm a plenty and has had zero reaction to it re: why she can use her powers against cinder, which makes me think that this conversation in an episode titled DEAD END has more to it; either that there's more to silver eyes than "they only work against grimm" or that "something you weren't seeing" is less about something physical like the grimm arm and more about cinder herself, i.e. cinder is not a monster who needs to be eye-lazered on sight but a human being and that maybe it would be better to understand why she's the way she is rather than going pew-pew.

also also, as far as any villain -> hero arc that cinder may or may not be going through, i think it would be more poignant if she had the grimm arm through it rather than chopping it off as a sign of it beginning. ya know, like. despite all the negatives that come with it, the grimm arm is also beneficial for cinder in that she can siphon maiden powers that she wants with it, so if she has it until the end, any development would be more meaningful if she chooses to not use it rather than removing it altogether. it's the difference between "would but can't" vs "could but won't".

and yeah the arm growing is a concern so that's. A Thing. but i think there's like. how much does cinder and / or salem even know about this stuff. like i could see cinder agreeing to having a grimm arm bc maiden powers but not knowing exactly what having a grimm arm entails—i.e. it was not an informed choice—but does salem know either or is she just experimenting? cos i feel like that also changes thing like is this intentional negligence or is this uncharted territory for everyone involved? idk.

what i do know is that i like the grimm aesthetic tho and i would be sad to see it go :( but that's the character design gremlin in me talking.

[finnitesimal]

I think the reason most of us are falling so quickly into missatoiles (i think fucked that spelling) at least on your blog's account viewers, is because us pissers went on surviving on basically atoms of content for months, we know how to wait, how to watch, how to make the most out of what little content we get

so these new shiny interactions that show so much ship potential are luring us into yet another suffering spiral of minimal yet rewarding content... kinda like how toxic relationships work

....or maybe I'm just spouting shit, we're talking about fucking ninja turtle cucumber and skeletor cubito men after all

you're telling me we're scroungers brother. We're scrounging that's what you're saying we're little rats going fucking ham on this singular slice of cucumber is what you're saying

[mosquito-queen]

merry christmas ya filthy animals :)

“do you need another snack? getting hangry?”

nancy’s teeth felt rotten from the sickly sweet tone. pathetic. her tongue absently pressed under the tips of her fangs as she refused to make eye contact with the insolent brat in the passenger seat. robin was well aware she hadn’t fed properly in six days. which also meant she had been trapped in a small space for six days too long with the monster hunter. she seethed at robin’s goad, and fell right into it: “i’m not a little kid that needs fucking orange slices and a capri sun.”

yikes, yes, she was definitely hangry. robin mocked, “i thought you loved fruit punch?”

this time nancy hit her, and robin startled at the unexpected pun. she relented for a moment, “clever.”

“thank you. unfortunately, i’ll be stuck here for another few days. i take cash or blood as payment for my comedic talents.”

“so you are hungry?” nancy was too distracted with her thirst to hear the way pride bolstered robin’s heartbeat at knowing what nancy needed. the vampire still had her gaze fixed out the windshield, staring into the darkness. robin rolled her eyes and twisted in the seat to drag a backpack over the console and into her lap. she rifled through it, flinging a squishy plastic container at her companion. robin frowned when nancy didn’t even attempt to catch it. her tone was less sarcastic and more neutral when robin said, “i told you to keep them on ice, but no, you said you prefer it room temperature. so drink up, nightmare queen. it’s way less fun when you’re too busy brooding over spoiled blood to fight with me.”

nancy whined. she whined in the way a dog does when it wants the holiday ham, and robin had to do a double take. the vampire still had not turned to look at robin, instead she was blushing from the sudden lack of control and burying her face in her hands. she groaned from the privacy of her fingers: “it isn’t that. i’m hitting the wall, maybe a couple of days left if we’re lucky. it has to be fresh.”

“oh.”

“yeah, oh.” she had brought her hands away from her face, but kept the left one near her mouth. she was doing that thing where she worried the knuckle of her thumb between her teeth. robin was watching now, acutely aware of the way the fangs pressed into the porcelain skin. it had started two days ago after nancy finished the blood bag, labeled ‘not ketchup’ in robin’s messy handwriting, with a very un-mannered slurp. her fingers had strayed closer and closer to her pretty little mouth until robin caught her chewing on the bone between her knuckles. it had spiraled quickly, and now when nancy wasn’t talking, she had her hand literally in her mouth.

robin boldly gestured towards this antic now, “is that why you need a room alone with your hand?”

nancy dead-panned, pulled her finger away, and sweetly asked: “would you rather it be you?”

robin’s weak human-self betrayed her with a drop of her stomach. it was a joke, it was a way to get back at robin, to make her stutter, to make her prey. her heart was fluttering noisily and she hated that nancy could hear it, hated that nancy could turn the game in her favor so quickly. the vampire was fully leaned back in the driver’s seat, casually lounging as she turned her head to face robin. she was slouched down enough that she peered up through thick lashes to collect robin’s expression as her prize.

except, her thirst betrayed her. robin had not immediately scoffed at nancy’s imposition, she was definitely unable to now, and the missing refusal allowed the vampire’s mind to stray. nancy looked at robin with the most unrestrained desire, her fang tips slightly visible when her lips parted to scent the air for robin’s blood. robin was finished the moment she risked a glance to nancy’s eyes. they were half-lidded now, dark as shadow, and just as dangerous. she had never been in the spotlight of this kind of need before. it was intoxicating.

nancy broke the spell when she teased again, “would you?”

alarm bells went off in robin’s head. it was just a ploy, just the hunting charms of a hungry vampire. she scrunched her nose in disgust, pulling away from the lure, “i’m not a happy meal.”

nancy flipped her head back in the seat, staring up at the ceiling. robin tried not to look at her throat. she hummed: “i haven’t had a kid in awhile…”

this caught the monster-hunter’s anger. she rocked up in her seat, lunged over the console and pinned nancy under herself. she had a knife switched into her hand, caught under nancy’s jaw, hatred blooming in her eyes. ”say you’re joking.”

the vampire seemed unfazed, not even remotely worried that robin would believe her words so easily. if anything, she relished in the thought that robin thought her capable of such astounding cruelty. instead of hurt, there was a smug edge to her expression. she had that hungry look still. that look that said danger but translated to desire.

“i thought you said no murdering on this stake-out.”

“for you, i’ll make an exception.”

“i’ve been awfully good though, don’t you think?” the silver of the knife burned, but nancy pushed her luck anyways. she loved finding a boundary. she shifted slightly under robin, her leg now pressing in a way that twisted the anger into something else. she purred under the threat of death: “don’t you think i should have a reward?”

robin regretted every choice that had led her to this moment. she could especially maul past-robin for agreeing to a stake-out with a hot, bloodthirsty vampire. she reminded herself for the eighth time this week that the hot part was only from nancy’s vampiric traits. she wasn’t actually attracted to the monster currently trapped under her. oh god, nancy was under her. her reply was distracted, half-assed, “your reward is a tombstone once we catch this guy.”

nancy pushed again, “robin, i’m not going to have access to any of my abilities if i don’t drink soon.” she paused before adding, “yenno, the lack of fresh blood could make me feral.”

“i’d put you down like old yeller.” robin was trying to hold onto the searing anger that pushed her over into nancy’s seat. she was trying desperately to find the hatred that said ‘kill her’ but it was so very hard to pay attention when nancy’s cold hands were toying with her belt loops and her thigh was pressing somewhere it definitely shouldn’t. it was very difficult when she realized she was absently tracing the blunt side of the knife down the vampire’s throat. when she passed over the pulse point, nancy would flinch. she kept doing it.

it was quiet and dark in the car, save for the glint off the knife. in the quiet, robin could barely make out the uneven staccato of nancy’s heart pumping stolen blood. nancy’s hands had now settled on her hips, the cold seeping through her jeans, she flexed her fingers in a test. the knife bit down a little harder and she let out a hiss between her clenched teeth. she kept her hands fixed in place. it sounded much less like a joke when she said: “just one bite.”

robin told herself she nodded because it was the most reasonable thing. she told herself she said yes because she needed nancy in top performance to catch a monster way out of her skill set alone, that it was better her than a stranger in the nearby area, that it would be quicker and she could keep nancy under her watch. robin said, “fine.”, because it was the most reasonable, logical choice. not because there was a weird itch in the back of her brain, or maybe it was in the pit of her stomach, or just between her ribs, that was begging for those fangs to be buried in the crook of her neck. it was definitely because it was the most logical choice.

nancy did something unexpected. she hesitated. all of her confidence melted away as soon as robin gave permission. she was just playing a game, she never thought robin would say yes. she would have let herself reach that breaking point before slipping into the night and eating a deer. she’d make herself giddy with animal blood, puking up her guts within the next day, before disobeying robin’s one real stake-out rule. maybe nancy was being good.

the hunter leaned into the vampire, fixing her fingers over her throat and smirking into nancy’s soft curls, “get over yourself, wheeler. you can’t do anything to me.” robin tightened her grip on nancy’s neck, surprised when the stone yielded, “only what i let you.” the hand with the knife had moved downwards, skipping the silver blade over nancy’s ribs, shielded by a few layers of fabric. the vampire still felt the burn of the metal, just as robin did the cold seeping out from nancy’s bones.

something instinctual squirmed nancy under robin’s hold, something told her to get out but something else firmly said to stay. the conflicting urges quarreled, but a third need won out. her hunger. robin had shifted her posture so her neck was perfectly exposed to nancy, and the vampire tentatively skated the tips of her fangs over the freckle-blurred skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. she hesitated one more time.

“robin, i-“

“be good, nance, and eat me.”

[fluffyuri]

I understand, Lady Lucoa. I’ll be right back with your offering.

The individual leaves and comes back with a feast of epic proportions that was, hopefully, fit for a goddess such as Quetzalcoatl. Chicken cacciatore, chopped mutton, a boiled lobster, spiral-sliced and honey-glazed ham, wagyu beef, cooked salmon, sichuan curried shrimp, jambalaya, and a classic apple pie

Those were only fancy stuff as the individual remembered Lucoa’s comment about modern technology, so with it they added stuff like, burgers, fries, pizzas, calzones, onion rings, chips of all flavors, all kinds of fast food really, and even some unorthodox foods such as deep-fried oreos and a few loafs of pumpkin cracker bread.

I hope this all is to your liking, my Lady. And with it I say, bon appetit.

"Oh my, certainly a larger offering than I was expecting. Back when I was getting started last time the offerings were much smaller. And what a selection."

"Again certainly better than sacrifices." She mumbles to herself, while idly eating some of the feast. "I've heard there's still a few deities still wanting harsher offerings, I don't get it. Clearly they haven't tried human foods. Maybe trying to push to be a god again would be worth the effort."

[cagemasterfantasy]

Honeyed Ham with Pineapple Gravy

Serves 10 to 14

Ingredients: 1 Small (10-pound) spiral sliced, bone in ham, preferably shank-end, 2 Cups unsweetened pineapple juice, 3/4 Cup honey, 1/3 Cup packed light brown sugar, 2 Teaspoons Dijon mustard, plus 1 tablespoon, 1/4 Teaspoon ground cloves, or to taste, Freshly ground black pepper, 2 Tablespoons unsalted butter, 1 Shallot, finely chopped, 2 Teaspoons finely chopped fresh thyme, Kosher salt, 1 Tablespoon cornstarch, 1 Cup finely chopped fresh pineapple

Remove the ham from the refrigerator 1 hour and 45 minutes before cooking so that it starts at room temperature.

Preheat the oven to 300 with a rack in the lower-middle of the oven. Cover a large roasting pan or rimmed baking sheet with foil. Set a roasting rack in the roasting pan and cover that with foil, shiny-side up, leaving overhangs sufficient to fully wrap the ham once it's on the rack. Position the ham cut-side down on the rack, cover with the overhanging foil, and crimp the edges to seal the ham. Bake until the ham registers 120 on an instant -read thermometer, 3 hours 15 minutes.

At around the 3-hour mark, in a skillet over medium-high heat, bring the pineapple juice to a boil. Continue to boil until the juice is reduced to 1 cup, 9 minutes. Pour off and 2/3 cup of the reduced juice for the sauce.

Add 1/2 cup of the honey, the brown sugar, 2 teaspoons mustard, cloves, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper, to the remaining 1/3 cup reduced juice in the skillet and whisk to combine.

Remove the ham from the oven and adjust the oven temperature to 400. Peel back the foil and, working carefully with the hot ham, pour as much of the accumulated ham juices as possible into a large measuring cup or bowl and set aside. Brush half the pineapple juice mixture evenly over the exposed surfaces of the ham (don't worry about the cut side). Leaving the foil open, bake until glossy and beginning to caramelize, 15 minutes. Brush the remaining mixture over the ham and continue baking, again until glossy and caramelized, 8 minutes.

Remove the ham from the oven and again working carefully, pour as much of the accumulated ham juices as possible into the bowl with the first batch (you may have as much as 1 1/2 cups) and set aside. Fold the foil back up over the ham to tent loosely and let rest for 15 minutes.

In a saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the shallot, thyme, and 1/2 teaspoon salt and cook, stirring, until the shallot softens, 2 minutes. Add the 2/3 cup reserved reduced pineapple juice, the remaining 1/4 cup honey, and remaining 1 tablespoon mustard. Whisk to combine and bring to a simmer, 2 minutes.

In a bowl or measuring cup, whisk the cornstarch and 2/3 cup of the reserved ham juices until uniform. Add to the saucepan and cook, stirring until thickened, 1 minute. Add the chopped pineapple and pepper to taste and cook, stirring, to heat the sauce through, 1 1/2 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning with additional salt and pepper, if necessary. Carve the ham and serve with the warm sauce.

No i am not sourcing this 1 they are literally using the picture from the book

Source: Heroes Feast

[official-breakfast-sandwich-poll]

BREAKFAST SANDWICH POLL (OFFICIAL)

[hamrecipeidea]

Deliciously Sticky Sweet Honey Baked Ham Recipe

Looking for a show-stopping centerpiece for your next special occasion? Look no further than this mouthwatering sweet honey baked ham recipe. With its irresistible sticky glaze and tender meat, it's guaranteed to leave your guests begging for seconds. 

To start, select a high-quality bone-in ham, preferably spiral-cut for easy serving. Preheat your oven to 325°F (160°C) and place the ham in a roasting pan. In a small bowl, combine 1 cup of honey, ½ cup of brown sugar, ¼ cup of Dijon mustard, and a pinch of ground cloves. Whisk the ingredients together until well blended.

Using a basting brush, generously coat the ham with the honey glaze, making sure to cover all sides. For an extra touch of flavor, you can stud the ham with whole cloves, which will infuse their aromatic essence into the meat as it bakes.

Cover the ham with aluminum foil and bake for approximately 15 minutes per pound, or until the internal temperature reaches 140°F (60°C). During the last 20 minutes of baking, remove the foil and baste the ham with the remaining glaze. This will give it that deliciously sticky, caramelized crust.

Once the ham is cooked to perfection, remove it from the oven and let it rest for a few minutes before carving. Slice it thinly and serve it warm with your favorite sides, such as roasted potatoes, steamed vegetables, or a fresh green salad.

Prepare to be amazed as your guests dive into this tender, succulent ham with its heavenly sweet glaze. This deliciously sticky honey baked ham recipe will undoubtedly become a staple for your special occasions, creating memories and leaving taste buds longing for more.