#dark russet chips

[jolikmc-thoughts]

The Snack Gods have finally heeded my prayers.

The best damn potato chip in the world finally returns to my area.

It has been seven years since I last tasted these deliciously burnt chips. I will enjoy the crap out of these while they last. ;v;

[are-we-really-doing-this]

fav baked good

fav dessert

when u go in2 a 7-11 wat snackz/drinkz r u gettin

1. Any good crusty French bread with butter.

2. Key lime pie.

3. Zero sugar Monster or Pepsi, watermelon extra, strawberry mentos. Then either honey roasted peanuts, the cheddar or honey mustard pretzels, or the dark russet potato chips (the burnt mfs).

Thanks! Man now I’m thirsty…

[yourfavaschips]

The Ancestor from Darkest Dungeon?

The Ancestor from Darkest Dungeon would be Cape Cod Dark Russet Kettle Cooked Potato Chips!

[nebulablakemurphy]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part 14)

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Series Masterlist

When Y/N was younger, she imagined a great many things. She imagined marrying Jacob in a white poofy gown and chowing down on a big cake, while their friends and family cheered.

She imagined how sweet it would be when they finally decided to have a child. A perfect mix of her and the most wonderful person she’s ever known. Long dark hair, chocolate brown eyes and blinding smiles.

She imagined it would take hours or days to bring their child into the world, but she always knew it would be worth it. For this moment.

Carlisle places the tiny russet colored wolf on her chest, covered in blood, which can only be Jacob’s and a silver liquid she assumes to be her venom.

Jacob rubs at the little wolf’s back while they whimper, shivering in Y/N’s arms.

“Shhh, you’re ok.” Y/N whispers, as Carlisle carefully replaces the pieces of her he’d chipped away to deliver their child. She glances up at Jacob, “they’re ok, right?”

Jacob passes a hand over her hair. “Babies cry, honey.”

Y/N nods, wrapping the knitted blanket tighter around their child.

“How are you holding up?” Carlisle asks, still tending to her…wounds.

“I think I’m ok.”

“You’ve done remarkably.”

“Thank you,” Y/N stares up at the ceiling.

“All set.” Carlisle pats Y/N’s knee. “You can sit up.”

Jacob takes the baby, rocking gently as the wolf shifts into a perfect baby boy.

Y/N stands, pushing her dress down to cover herself.

“I’m going to share the good news.” Carlisle excuses himself.

Y/N feels different, though her physical body has not changed.

“Shh,” Jacob hushes their son as he begins to fuss. “There’s mommy.”

The baby is silent then, his wide, dark eyes settle on his mother.

Jacob attempts to hand him over.

“No,” Y/N stops him. “I don’t want to make him phase.”

Jacob’s face falls, “he’s our son.”

“I know,” that’s why she has to protect him, even from herself.

“You’re not gonna hold him?”

“I want to.” Every cell in her body is screaming for him.

“This is going to take some getting used to for all of us. He might phase, but he’ll learn to control it. Just like I did.” Jacob murmurs.

A little fist reaches out from the blanket and the baby begins to cry.

“He wants you.” Jacob hears the thought so loudly in his head.

“Really?” Y/N leans in.

Jacob nods, easing the infant into her arms.

Y/N stares down at her baby, still human and watching her with unblinking eyes. Like he knows her. “He looks like you,” Y/N strokes the baby’s hair. “Both ways.”

Jacob laughs. “Yeah.”

“Sorry I freaked out; but I hate to think I’m the reason he’s afraid or uncomfortable. I’m supposed to be the one who makes him feel safe. I know it’s not personal and it’s not anyone’s fault…I just feel bad.”

Jacob puts his arms around them, around his entire world. “The fact you’re beating yourself up about it proves that you’re actually insufferable.”

“We knew that.” Y/N scoffs, kissing the little hand wrapped around her index finger.

“But it also means you’re a great mom.” Jacob grins, “and I love you.”

“I love you too.” She rests her head against his shoulder.

“So how are you feeling?” Jacob asks, “are we one and done? Or are we having a few more?”

“A few?” Y/N arches a brow, “how many do you want?”

“One more.” Jacob suggests.

“I could do one more.”

The door of Carlisle’s office opens and Renesmee comes bouncing in. “Aunt Y/N! Uncle Jacob!”

“Renesmee, wait.” Bella protests, “hold on a minute.”

“I just want to see the baby,” Renesmee explains.

“Sorry guys,” Bella smiles, “she couldn’t wait.”

“It’s ok, Ness.” Jacob waves her over, “you can say hi.”

“This is your cousin,” Y/N dips the blanket down for the little girl to see. “Rowan.”

Renesmee glances back at Bella. “He’s so little, mommy.”

Bella smiles at her nephew, “he looks just like you, Jake.”

“That’s what she said.”

————————————————————————-

Rowan finds his place in their large, unconventional, family better than anyone expected.

The Cullens love kids, babies, weddings and birthdays. All the human experiences they were robbed of.

The pack welcomes Rowan with open arms, making room for the tiny wolf in their ranks. Showing him love and understanding, most importantly, teaching him to embrace who he is. Turning into a wolf is only weird if you make it weird, after all.

Rowan grows fast, but not as fast as Renesmee who looks to be about six years old at only twelve months.

They are still looking for answers in regards to Renesmee’s rapid aging, but tonight they are at the Cullen’s. Even Billy has joined them, listening to Edward teach Renesmee to play piano.

Rowan pulls himself up, standing beside the couch, leaning on it to stay upright. “Dada.”

Jacob smiles, wide enough to split his face. “Hi,” he takes him into his lap.

“Looks like he’s getting ready to walk there, Jacob.” Charlie says.

“You think?”

“He’s never done it on two legs before.” Y/N passes a hand over Rowan’s baby curls.

“Today might be the day.” Billy grins, “put him down, let’s see if he’ll walk to grandpa.” He extends his arms.

Rowan giggles, opening and closing his chubby fist in Billy’s direction.

“What do you think, buddy?” Jacob whispers to his son, “you wanna walk?”

“Mama,” the little boy says, instead, crawling off Jacob onto her.

Y/N hugs him to her, “I love you, sweet boy.”

“Mama.” He clings to her, bouncing with his little legs.

“Maybe next time, Billy.” Charlie claps his shoulder. “Looks like he’s setting up shop.”

“Boy loves his mama.” Jacob’s father nods, “Jake was the same way with his mom.”

Jacob swallows hard, looking to his wife, who he hasn’t officially married. He’ll never let anything bad happen to her. Never again.

————————————————————————-

Y/N is hovering over at foot of their bed when Jacob wakes. “Good morning.”

“Morning, beautiful.” Jacob shoots her a lopsided grin. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Bella wants to take Ren out to play in the snow. I was thinking we’d tag along.”

“That sounds like fun. Do you mind if I dip out early with Rowan? I promised to bring him down to the rez today.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Y/N smiles.

“Cool.” Jacob returns the gesture. She makes his heart flutter in his chest, even after all these years.

Y/N comes around to his side of the bed, tracing her finger along the slope of his nose. “There is one thing I’d like to do today.”

“What?” Jacob thinks he knows, but he loves hearing her say it.

“You.”

Jacob laughs, pulling her down onto the mattress. They wrestle around playfully, landing on the floor with her pinned beneath him.

“Shhh,” Y/N hushes him. “My dad’s gonna hear us.”

“I really hate to tell you this,” Jacob drags his thumb across her cheekbone. “But I think he knows.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, “he thinks Rowan was like…immaculately conceived or something. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Whatever helps you not sleep at night, honey.” Jake chuckles.

Series Taglist: @vxidnik @remembered-license @itscheybaby @cole22ann @the-tryhard-twihard @zheezs14 @adaydreamaway08 @xcastawayherosx @moneteguiza @stinkii-boii @theatrechic26 @sylum @irrelevant-86

[unholyhelbig]

Werewolf? I mean... werewolf.

Title: Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot [7/?]

Summary: After reader is attacked by a strange animal in the woods, her world is flipped upside down. Now she must navigate a new life filled with strangers and myths.

Trigger warnings: Emotional distress? Spelling mistakes

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six, Part Seven]

[A/n: This is not my best chapter, but honestly, I'm so ready to get into the time jump part of this story, that I'm just going to do it].

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts

The first time you’d gotten drunk in college was on a bottle of coconut flavored Bacardi. It tasted like nail polish remover that had been manufactured in the vicinity of a resort island, but after three shots it had a nice burn to it. After six, you were starting to realize the appeal of the hard liquor that held a torch next to the candle that was cheap beer.

The next morning was filled with cotton-mouth and regret. You were curled up on a recliner in a frat house, having pulled a throw pillow over yourself to preserve some type of heat. Every part of your body ached and if it weren’t for America stirring on the couch, you would have panicked.  

You sat up much too fast and reached for a football helmet that was idling on the floor next to crushed beer cans and emptied chip bags. You had retched into it and woke MJ up too. She was on the floor, having found a blanket. She’d bite off your hand if you were brave enough to reach for it, but you were too preoccupied with dry heaving to give a damn.

All three of you were mortified that you’d stayed the night in a frat of all places. Silently you gathered your things and ate in silence in the campus cafeteria. You could only stomach eggs. America nearly passed out into her hashbrowns, still having her sunglasses over her gaze.

It was the worst hangover you had ever experienced. It knocked you out of commission for the next two days. Yet, somehow, this was much worse.

The first thing you tasted was dirt. It mixed disastrously on your tongue and made you want to hurl again, but you’d learned your lesson. Swallow it down and wait until you make it outside, or to a bathroom because football helmets were expensive to replace.

Every muscle ached, and as you came to, you realized that you weren’t exactly where you had started your night off. There was a throbbing pain at your wrists, at your ankles and your throat, but nothing bolstering you to the wall. And you knew for a fact that Kate had done everything in her power to keep you restrained.

There was a warm body underneath you, chest rising and falling in a cadence that mirrored a deep slumber. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was as dark as ever in the cell that they’d placed you in. Just like the structure kept moonlight out, it did the same for the sun. The only indication you had that it was day was the chirping of birds forcing it’s way past the walls. If not for your advanced hearing, you’d be left wondering.

In a pained effort, you lifted yourself onto your elbows. You were marred in dirt, and saliva and russet streaks of what you could only imagine was blood. Your blood. Because you’d dutifully pulled out of the chains that had entrapped you. Not by ripping them from the wall but pulling hard enough to break the clasps.

Still, the cell held in its integrity, keeping both you and Kate locked up for the night. A sigh of relief escaped you as you tucked your chin and realized that you were, in fact, entirely on Kate. Your bodies were slotted together. Bare skin was against bare skin and the contact filled you with warmth. The sense of home.

Her arms had been wrapped around you, holding you close to her chest until you’d stirred yourself, her own dropping to the side. She was still asleep, and painfully unaware of how nude the both of you were. You didn’t want to disturb her by moving, but your skin was on fire at the thought of being this close to her while you were this naked.

As carefully as you could, you started to maneuver yourself off of Kate. She let out a small whimper of displeasure and tightened her grip around you in her sleep. She seemed to be a heavy sleeper to begin with, but with the werewolf hangover coursing through her veins, it strengthened.

She shifted to her side and took you with her, pulling your cheek flush against her chest. You stiffened at the sudden movement but relaxed almost instantly. How were you this comfortable, yet mortified at the same time?

Kate’s rhythmic breathing had lulled you back into a state of calm. You listened to each ex-hale that was punctuated by a small, barely-audible growl. Eventually, you had fallen back asleep in her grasp, breathing in her earthy scent.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you startled at the sound of a lock falling to the earth, the outer doors yanked open gracelessly. Mid-day sunlight flooded the cell. Kate’s snarl was more pronounced now, the two of you moving to cover your eyes from the assault.

Kate moved to cover you with her arm, pressing the length of it over your chest with a dark glare at the second door. She relaxed only slightly when she realized it was Yelena. The woman lifted both of her eyebrows but didn’t say a word when she let the duffel bag fall onto the packed dirt floor.

“I knew we were forgetting something,” Kate rasped.

Yelena smelled of sage, her hair damp from a shower. She was clad in a flannel shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, still as barefoot as ever despite just getting clean. Her arms were over her chest, inspecting the vacant chains and the untouched sedative.

Kate unzipped the bag and gently handed you a pair of pants that were way too long before she reached for her own jacket and handed it over. You didn’t object. The material was soft, and you were more eager than ever to cover-up.

“Malen'kiy volk, how did your first transformation go?”

“I don’t remember much of it.”

You didn’t want to remember. Everything was shrouded in a blinding basin of pain and broken bones. You suppressed a shiver at the thought and instead took the bottle of water that Kate offered you from the bag. You greedily drank through half of it, soothing the roughness of your throat.

Yelena let out a hum “Your wolf is strong, it seems. Breaking through those reinforced chains is not an easy job. We’re lucky you didn’t get past the cell door.”

“I don’t think she was trying to.”

Kate said this softly, focused on zipping your sweatshirt over her midsection. Her fingers were caked in dirt, and she struggled until you easily slotted the metal into the zipper and pulled it up with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“You broke through the chains and then you just stopped. You didn’t even go near the doors. Just me.”

“How do you remember that?” You asked in an astonished whisper. It drew a smile to her lips, teeth still pointed, but in a charming, human way.

“You’ll remember eventually too. The first couple of times will be like last night, blacking out isn’t uncommon. But once you get more acquainted with your wolf, you’ll start to see the world through their eyes.”

“Yes, some even say it’s less of a curse and more of a blessing.” Yelena confirmed, scooping up the bag with one hand. Her nose crinkled and she gave Kate a little kick to the leg. “You both stink. Let’s go back to the house. I’m sure you’re starving.”

All eyes shifted to you when you padded into the kitchen after a long, hot shower that seemed to relax your muscles. They were still unbelievably sore, but some of the tension had been released. It took nearly an hour to scrub the dirt and dried blood from your skin.

The bruising that was around your wrists, and your ankles, and even your throat had been healed before your eyes. The dark, spotted blue and purple had faded to a yellowed ring and then vanished entirely. Your eyes kept darting to the area.

Now you felt incredibly scrutinized in your pair of sweatpants and an oversized band t-shirt that you’d never listened to. The rest of the group was in much of the same attire, all looking exhausted and wolfing down the spread of food on the table. Your stomach clenched at the scent. You were absolutely famished.

There was a vacant seat in between Wand and Kate, the only one that wasn’t filled at the table so you quietly took your place. All conversations had stopped when you entered, focus being directed suddenly to the food and to you. The plate in front of you had been piled high with potatoes, and a piece of meat that looked expertly seasoned and cooked to perfection.

Your diet had been restricted to nothing but instant ramen and dollar menu items from taco bell. When your father and stepmother came to visit a few months back, they’d made reservations at a French restaurant that you couldn’t pronounce without sounding like you had no tongue at all. You’d worn your nicest dress that was stored at the back of your closet collecting dust.

You had gotten a serving of pasta that was smaller than your palm and tasted almost floral. You’d dutifully listened to them and answered the questions that they asked about school. All the while, you bit your tongue, trying to foster a relationship with your father again. You’d left with even more resentment and a tinfoil swan that contained the smallest shred of cheesecake.

“y/n,” Steve broke the silence, picking up a bite of potatoes with the prongs of his fork. “How was your night?”

He asked so fluently and without pressure. You’d answer him either way, but with the quiet you thought it would be a harder tone. He’d sat with you up in the library for hours over the past few weeks, answering any questions that you had as you read through the old texts.

“It was good,”

“You’re lying,” Tony said. “It’s never good.”

Wanda nudged your shoulder softly, warmth flooding you “You can be honest with us, sweetie.”

When you glanced up, you realized that all eyes were still on you, with the exception of Kate, who had suddenly become very interested in forming her potatoes into a little mountain that gravy would slosh down. She hadn’t grabbed any from the metal container in the center of the table.

“Yeah, it was awful. In the top three worst experiences of my life. But I blacked out, so I don’t remember most of it.”

Thor let out a boisterous laugh, breaking the silence. It earned a few half-hearted chuckles as dinner resumed. Steve kept his stare on you, giving you a small nod that you returned. There was pride that filled your chest. You’d not only pleased him, but you’d survived your first transformation and had a full month of near-peace and learning until your next one.

Natasha was in deep conversation with Clint, and Peter had captured Kate’s attention as he rambled about a video game that he had to pre-order so the two of them could play together. The entire interaction was warm and caring. You watched them all carefully, how comfortable they all were with each other. It wasn’t how your family had ever behaved.

“Do you miss them?” Wanda’s soft voice interrupted your thoughts, you furrowed your brow and gave her a confused stare. “Your family.”

“Are you a mind reader?”

She scoffed, skewering a roasted carrot with her fork, moving it around like a wand. “Hardly. I’m just good at reading people. And that look in your eyes, I can’t tell if it’s longing or resentment.”

“Maybe a little bit of both.”

You could feel the blush climbing up your neck and past the collar of your shirt. She’d clocked you entirely and you weren’t completely sure she wasn’t a witch. But her eyes were a dark and kind brown, and she hadn’t led you astray so far. None of them had. They’d all been so caring.

“You don’t have to answer, you know. And I don’t mean to pry. You’ve just been through something major. There are perks to what we are; the strength, the speed, the agility. But with the heightened physical aspects come the mental ones too. I’m sure you’ve noticed how strong your feelings towards Kate are.”

“It’s come up once or twice.”

“Mm,” She hummed knowingly “I’m here to talk. I’m here to ask. Do you miss them?”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and considered her question. It almost made your stomach churn. Despite this, you still were ravenously hungry, directing your attention to the meat that was cut nicely on your plate. You stabbed the center of it, watching the broth spurt out. It was hard to miss something that wasn’t whole in the first place.

“My father would send me a birthday card every year on the wrong day. There was a twenty-dollar bill in it, and a sloppy signature. Eventually, the signature turned into a stamp. I’m pretty sure his secretary at the time just kept up the ruse out of pity.

“But the sad thing is, it worked. Every other year or so he’d have dinner with me. The secretary turned into his third wife. We didn’t talk much about anything. He’d ask me about school, but never my mother. It was like she was a ghost.”

Wanda had put her fork down, shoved her plate further away from her to signal that she was done. She ran her finger against the stitching of her napkin.

“My mom is my everything. She worked days at a nursing home and every other night as a gas station attendant and still, it never seemed like enough. We were scraping by. But I worked my ass off for a scholarship.” You swallowed hard, “I miss her. But only her. We never had much, but she made sure what we did have was enough and so full of love.”

The woman reached out tentatively and grabbed your hand. Comfort flooded your body, starting where her touch was and moving across you like a soft blanket. She had a motherly look in her eyes, a quiet reassurance. You could almost feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you blinked them back. You weren’t going to show weakness by crying at the dinner table.

“Natasha did everything possible to make me feel comfortable that first time. And I did. But, after all was said and done, I found myself wishing for my mother who had long ago died. There’s something in that love that you can’t find anywhere else.”

You nodded, trying to get past the lump that was forming in your throat. Wanda gave your hand another squeeze, running her thumb over your knuckles. “I know it’s not the same, but I’m here. All of us are. What you did last night was scary, and you were brave. Don’t forget that.”

You mouthed a whisper of a thank you, not trusting yourself to say anything else without letting a few tears escape. Wanda kept her hand in yours for a few moments until Tony mentioned something about dessert. You didn’t’ think you could eat another bite, but then again, you’d be wrong.

“Not everything here is bad.” Kate was worming her way through the miles and miles of foliage that surrounded the property. She seemed to know where she was going, and you followed her blindly. Every inch of property felt the same. Lush trees, a blanket of fallen leaves and dirt. Really, it was beautiful.

You’d never liked the outdoors, had only gone camping as a girl scout years and years ago. But the sun was starting to lower and an orange glow was making it’s way through the forest. There was almost a whimsical fantasy world to be had.

Kate reached out a warm hand to you, helping you over a log that crossed the path. When you’d made it to the other side, she moved to pull away but you held tight. Those dark grey eyes flicked down to your palms and then back up to you in wonder.

Don’t make a big deal about it. Your stare had said. So, she didn’t. Her lip quirked up into a small, tentative smile as she led you further into the woods. Maybe she hadn’t remembered your naked body against her in the haze of sleep. Or maybe, she was used to that, being what she was. What you were. This seemed more significant.

“I don’t think it’s bad. I think it’s weird that you call it a compound, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

She chuckled and gave your hand a squeeze. The two of you walked for a few moments before she stopped. It looked like any other part of the woods. Kate looked at you expectantly. “I want you to close your eyes.”

“You’re not proposing, are you? This is all a little fast.”

“Ha-ha, very funny wise guy. Just close them.”

“Alright, alright.”

You did as you were told, feeling the warm setting sun against the side of your face. Kate continued to hold your hand. It was easy for you to focus on her touch and the world around you. There was nothing but safeness despite your reservations.

“What do you hear?” Kate asked.

At first, the only thing you could pick up on was the sound of your own heartbeat. It was hard to focus, with Kate’s blazing touch on yours. After a few moments things started to become clear. “It sounds like… water.” There was a small rush that you had mistaken for breathing at first. But, soon you were able to pick up on the rush of the current over a rock bed.

“Good girl. What else?”

You frowned, clenching your eyes harder. There was the rustle of leaves being jostled by a light breeze, and the near silent groan of settling bark. There was something more, a different type of breathing that was accompanied by a quick-beating heart.

“Don’t doubt yourself. What do you think you hear?”

“A deer, maybe. I don’t know. It doesn’t sound human.”

Kate let out a small squeal that caught you off guard, lunging forward and wrapping you into a bone-crushing hug. You found yourself laughing, nearly choked with the wild mane that was her hair. It felt nice. Her holding you, proud of you, an incredible warmth blooming in your chest.

“Yes y/n! You got it. You got it on the first try.” She pulled back, keeping her hands on your shoulders.

The setting sun illuminated her, as if she were an ethereal creature. Her grip on you was so sure, so comforting. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, just being under her gaze. Those storm-filled eyes bore into your own, and you wanted nothing more than to give way to the cloying feeling that was building up.

Her stare flicked down at your lips, and then back up to your own. You were suddenly nervous, despite how close the two of you had been these last few weeks, this was different. This was exhilarating. Against your better judgement, you gave her the slightest nod.

Kate’s lips were against yours, tasting of strawberry lip balm and the earth. It was a gentle kiss, her fingers ghosting your jaw, her tongue swiping against your bottom lip. An overwhelming feeling of content fluttered in the pit of your stomach. Despite it’s tenderness, it seemed to end too quickly.

You longed for her, and when Kate moved to pull away, you looped your arms around her shoulders, and pulled her back in, chasing the high that she’d caused with a simple embrace. She smiled against your lips, deepening the kiss until you both had to pull away for air.

“Wow,” Kate breathed, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You laughed softly “I think I might.”

Her hand moved a strand of hair behind your ear, a goofy smile on her face. Things felt light and immeasurably comfortable. Getting through your first transition out of the way lifted the weight from your shoulders and pressing your lips against Kate’s had admonished the rest.

“I want to apologize,” Kate whispered, breathe splaying against your cheeks. Her hand cupped your cheek, thumb running over the redness that had appeared. She’d silenced you. “Before you say anything, I know that I’ve said I’m sorry more times than we can count. But I mean it.”

Her closeness helped her argument. Your entire focus was trained on her. There was a smattering of freckles across her nose and an exhaustive wonder around her eyes. You felt tiredness in your own bones, despite sleeping well past noon.

“You didn’t ask for any of this, and I hurt you, y/n. I will never forgive myself for that, and I refuse to make excuses about this… this pull that I know we both feel. I ripped you from your life and now you’re here, and I don’t want to base this, whatever this is, on forced proximity because I’d feel even more guilty if-“

You cut her off, surging forward and wrapping your arms around her mid-section. You fit perfectly in her arms, her chin resting on your head. It took her a few moments to work the tension out of her body, but she held you tight, breathing you in.

“Kate, if I wanted to leave, I would have found a way.”

She smiled wolfishly “Oh?”

“And no more apologizing. I forgive you.” You pulled back slightly, staring up at her. Kate’s embrace was alluring and grounded you to the earth. “This isn’t something I’ve ever felt before, and I’m scared shitless… but it feels right.”

None of this was part of your plan. You were the dutiful student that had worked for her scholarships and continued to push yourself past your breaking point to keep them. Then, an inhuman girl had dug her teeth into you, tearing through muscle and bone. The same girl that you embraced now had, by all means, uprooted you.

“We don’t have to figure it out now. We have all the time in the world.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, a small smile forming on your lips. “We do.”

[vinsmoke-lover]

If anyone wants an alternative to Lays, a couple quick google searches has told me that my favorite potato chip brand, Cape Cod, is owned by the Campbell's Soup company which does not support Israel!

They have the best crunch of any potato chip I've ever tried, and their flavors include Original, Dark Russet, Original Lightly Salted, Sea Salt and Cracked Pepper, Sea Salt and Vinegar, Sour Cream and Onion, Sweet and Spicy Jalapeño, and Sweet Mesquite Barbecue.

[oswednesday]

i dont normally eat a lot of chips in one go but im absolutely destroying this bag of dark russet potato chips

[memorycycle]

do you like the utz dark russets they are my favorite

Introducing Utz Dark Russets, the ultimate potato chip experience

Indulge in the bold crunch and intense flavor that will satisfy your snack cravings like never before

Share the excitement with friends and family at any gathering or enjoy them as a delicious solo treatWith Utz's commitment to quality and taste, you can trust that every bite will be pure snacking perfectio

[grey-gazania]

Top 5 snacks?

@sallysavestheday || ask me my top 5 anything || accepting

Ooh, this is a hard one! Hmm.

Everything bagel chips

Dried mango

Parmesan goldfish crackers

Dried cranberries

Nacho cheese doritos

And an honorable mention to Cape Cod dark russet potato chips, which would have been #1 if you'd asked me this question 15 years ago. But then Cape Cod discontinued them for a while, and when they did bring them back it was with a different formula, so now they don't taste as good as they used to. Boo hiss!

[blued-waffle]

These Eeveelutions have been STUCK in my head for way too long. Time to release them.

Character info beneath

--------------------------------------------------

EV

Nickname:

Even

Stats:

Nature: Naive

Ability: Adaptability

Level: 16

Moveset:

Tackle

Tail Whip

Baby-Doll Eyes

Description: A young eevee that wanna make friends. After hearing about how the first dusk lycanroc was discovered, he wanna be the first of a new type eeveelution.

--------------------------------------------------

Erif

Nickname: -

Stats:

Nature: Timid

Ability: Flash Fire

Level: 100 + EV Training

Moveset:

Flamethrower

Smog

Quick Attack

Dig

Description: A competitively-trained flareon that reach a high ranking with an element of surprise. Even though he's a fire type, he can't handle any heat and prefer frozen treat instead.

--------------------------------------------------

Russet

Nickname:

Russ

Big Potato

Fish 'n' Chip

Stats:

Nature: Adamant

Ability: Hydration

Level: 26

Moveset:

Charm

Hyper Voice

Scald

Alluring Voice

Description: A musically talented vaporeon with a spice tolerance of the sun. Performs under the moniker of "Fish 'n' Chip". Has too many hobbies. Is an unaware menace to society. You should never mention a certain piece of text around him.

--------------------------------------------------

Swiss

Nickname: -

Stats:

Nature: Modest

Ability: Quick Feet

Level: 45

Moveset:

Covet

Agility

Volt Switch

Rest

Description: A kalosian jolteon with a rich heritage. Knows how to set tables, wine taste, held parties, bartend, and the sort. The sin of gluttony towards cheese. Sucks at understanding idioms.

--------------------------------------------------

Studio

Nickname:

O

⭕_ (Pronounced "Circle")

_coward

Stats:

Nature: Timid

Ability: Synchronize

Level: 7

Moveset:

Tackle

Flash

Hyper Beam

Description: An umbreon who is solid with words and gaming. Streams speedruns under the pseudonym of "⭕_". When playing casual, he goes by "_coward". Glows white instead of yellow or blue because he has only been exposed to fluorescent light as an eevee. Is scared of the dark. Got hyper beam by mistake.

--------------------------------------------------

ESPEON

Nickname:

Es

Stats:

Nature: Serious

Ability: Magic Bounce

Level: ???

Moveset:

Psybeam

???

???

???

Description: An odd espeon who has a cursor around its neck. It appeared in the PC one day and can't be withdrawn. It is up to something. Only show emotion to who it deems worthy. It has terrible balance. It knows lots of things.

--------------------------------------------------

Nagev

Nickname:

NAGGIN'

Stats:

Nature: Hardy

Ability: Leaf Guard

Level: 36

Moveset:

Iron Tail

Growl

Magical Leaf

Synthesis

Description: A leafeon who knows how to cook but not plate. Use Iron Tail as a knife. Looks intimidating but not. Annoyed that he can't get his hair to stand up. Allergic to beets (Makes his voice very high-pitched). A fair food fanatic. Sucks at technology (Can't operate a remote.) Scared of the cold.

--------------------------------------------------

Glazed Donut

Nickname:

Glazed

GlazyDaisy

Stats:

Nature: Gentle

Ability: Snow Cloak

Level: 82

Moveset:

Helping Hand

Ice Shard

Icicle Spear

Snowscape

Description: A shy mess of a glaceon. Likes Rom Com and Mystery books. Works at a coffee shop of a friend. Is very serious at the job. If the place is too hot the outer ice layer will melt. Captain Oblivious. The Trainer's double battle ace.

--------------------------------------------------

sYlveon

Nickname:

SYLLY

sYlv

Stats:

Nature: Quirky

Ability: Pixilate

Level: 38

Moveset:

Substitute

Light Screen

Misty Terrain

Misty Explosion

Description: An artful sylveon from somewhere odd. Acts differently before being put in the box for the first time. Tries to hard to be a menace to society. Has broken taste buds. Hates being short. Strawberry enthusiast. Has a "MAGIC PAINTBRUSH".

[spaceumbredoggos]

Yeah, here's the prologue to that deer story i was telling everyone about. I Call it Cervidae. I went down a bunch of deer related rabbitholes to write this.

Red Antler’s ears twitched. He shook his head, sniffing the ground. He could detect the scent of Chipped Prongs nearby. It was Crimson Leaves, the time of year where Elder Doe and her daughters were judging the stags of the herd to see who was fit to be betrothed to them. For four Crimson Leaves now, Red Antler was on top. His ruthless fighting style and tendency to kill all predators with a swift slash of his aptly named blood red antlers has won him favors with Elder Doe. 

There was froth coming from Red Antler’s mouth. It dripped and oozed in viscous drops. Red Antlers chomped on some grass, only to gag uncomfortably as he tried to swallow. His pelt felt hot despite the chilled air of Crimson Leaves. Worse yet was the wound on his left hock that stung from a froth mouthed skunk that he had to fend off from the place of tall broken stones that touched the sky. 

Red Antlers had heard tales of the place of the tall stones. He was warned as a fawn never to go there, as it oozed a hostile aura. His mother, the previous Elder Doe, had come from such place. She told him of how the ground was hard and made of cracked stone. How large corpses of monsters made of material that wasn’t flesh but wasn’t wood or stone either laid on the ground, their spongy paws forever rotating. She had brought herself here as a fawn herself. To the place of sacred grass. The place where grasslands grow for countless tree lengths. The place of woods that surround lakes and where the steaming hot water bursts from wounds in the earth. 

There were other deer here as well. Deer without the snowy white tails and ears that are soft and fluffy called mule deer, tall deer with antlers like trees called elk, the largest deer called moose, and the deer with black tails, creatively named black tailed deer. They all spoke the same language and worshiped The Great Cervalces. 

Whispers battered Red Antler’s ears like festering bugs. He shook his head, unable to swallow the accumulating saliva from his mouth. All he wanted to do was bite, so he sank his teeth into his own forelegs to relieve the ache in his jaws. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this unwell. His mind raced, clouding his once strong and proud head. The throbbing pain clouded his thoughts, making it impossible to think clearly outside of biting and attack.everything made him jump, from the wounds of the wind to the ticks crawling in the grass.

A pair of yellow eyes watched from the shadows of the night. The Great Cervalces was watching in the inky black sky, showing their full face. Red Antler gazed at the pinpricks of light that irritated his sore eyes that illuminated the darkness. He staggered, barely able to keep his balance. The scent of Chipped Prongs was long gone from his nose. 

Red Antler collapsed in the chilled air, bleating out in frustration at his own useless legs. He itched and itched with his antlers at the self inflicted bites on his legs. He drove his antlers into the ground, carving wounds into the earth that summoned ants. He screamed a horrendous scream as he slashed his antlers at every single tree and tussock of grass around. Stomping his hooves furiously, he attracted the attention of a young vixen.

The vixen’s yellow eyes widened with horror as Red Antler went on the attack. With a furious puff out of his chest and a bleat that shattered leaves, he chomped down onto the vixen’s scruff. He furiously shook the creature, russet fur flying everywhere. The vixen yelped in pain and terror, trying to break free from the hostile stag’s relentless assault. Red Antler’s jaw spasmed as he let go of the vixen, blood dripping on her russet colored pelt. She bolted through the forest, yelping in terror and pain.

Hoofsteps sounded from behind Red Antler. He rushed up, only to see a tawny pronghorn approaching him. The pronghorn shook at the sight of Red Antler, who was scrawny with a ragged pelt. The pronghorn bolted, knowing the danger that the frenzied Red Antler could pose. Red Antler already had a nasty temper that few dared to trifle with. Not even a starving pack of wolves could take him down.

Chipped Prongs approached, his ribs jutting out from under his pelt. He swayed from side to side, breathing heavily. His eyes were sunken in, dilated to black beads. Drool formed from the tips of his lips, but not as frothy or viscous as Red Antler’s. Chipped Prongs walked in circles, wobbling. The trods in the grass signaled that he has been doing this a lot for at least several days. 

Normally, Red Antler wouldn’t even consider going anywhere near a stag that walked in circles. An old legend about stags and does that walked in circles said that seasons later, any deer that walked with them would walk in circles too. Often called “Death Circles”, it was known as a sickness that no healer could cure. Herds would often have to flee from areas where the death circles were trod, sometimes for countless tree lengths. 

But Red Antler’s thoughts were too cloudy to rationalize. Red Antler could only think of one thing, and that was to bite. With a huffing bleat, Red Antler sank his teeth into Chipped Prongs. Chipped Prongs bit back, locking his antlers onto Red Antler’s. He wobbled with each thrash of his head to kill, as it was clear all the two could think of was death. 

Red Antler snapped his teeth, trying to get a bite in. His antlers were too interlocked for either stag to escape, caught in a tangle of death. The two stags barked, their voices hoarse and full of rage. The sleeping birds scattered away from the scene, fearing that the trees would fall from the brute strength of the stags. The sounds of the forest were drowned out by the frivolous death battle of the two stags. 

Elder Doe panted as she and her daughter, Leaf Ears, rushed over to the two stags. “What’s going on?” Elder Doe panted, being stopped in her tracks by Leaf Ears. The two does watched in horror at Chipped Prongs’s vacant stare and Red Antler’s frothing mouth. Leaf Ears panted, standing firmly between Elder Doe and the fighting stags. 

“It’s too dangerous.” Leaf Ears tried to guide Elder Doe away from the stags. “What?”

“Red Antler has the thirsting bite.” There was a solemn look of terror in Leaf Ears’s face. “And Chipped Prongs has death circles.” 

“Death circles?” Elder Doe gasped. “What do we do?”

“We move the herds far away from here. We warn all herds that death circles has reached beyond where it was contained in the Wayward Wood. We need to move further west, towards where The Great Cervalces finishes their fight with Aul.”

“You mean through the forests of cracked boulders and tough grasses?” Elder Doe twitched. “Beyond the mountains. There’s a haven deep in the mountains. Where no deer has ever contracted death circles.” Leaf Ears sighed, rushing after Elder Doe. Elder Doe’s eyes were wide with panic as she approached the rest of the herds. Please don’t let it be too late.

[thistle-and-thorn]

🥞🏈💰?

hellooooooooo again!

favorite snack?

so. many. I love food. I love apples and cheese, hummus with everything, yogurt bowls.

my favorite sort of…I’m depressed/on my period/its 3am and even god is asleep snack is an unholy combination of Newman’s own peach salsa, onion dip, and dark russet potato chips mixed together. Like. This must get me excommunicated from something somewhere because people have told me it sounds and looks disgusting but you ever just can’t choose between sweet, salty, creamy comfort foods? What if you just combined them? Into one? It’s science!

what makes you angry?

I mean, a lot lol. Mostly if someone does something to my mom or a child. But I had a revelation this week that I can’t stand meanness. I mean I knew that but I’ve come to realize how low my threshold is for it. Like, I think I’m a sharp person sometimes and I can be snarky. But we have a mean girl running truly wild at my office currently and I just am so intolerant of her antics. She was just plain mean to this woman in a department meeting last week…a woman who I don’t even particularly like…and I just have simply not recovered. And I just become overwhelmed with true rage whenever I think about it?

last time you bought something for yourself?

I bought myself lunch? Does that count?

no, probably not. I bought myself a book recently and a pair of elf ears for a costume.

what about you? How have you treated yourself? What makes you angry?

[joculine]

me, in my pirate ship car, crashing into the hull of trader joes

it is my thrice raid of the season, and i am DESTROYING the meticulously set up peanut butter cup pyramid display yet again. "yarhar, i be back for more spices and booty ye clerks of old joe. yer friendly demeanor and sample platters will do little to save ye now. spare me the checkout small talk and ill spare ye the tip o' me cutlass! now, don't ferget the dark russet potato chips this time or ill be back." it is a smooth operation. i am in and out within 13 minutes. the cops arrive in 14. how do i lay low? the pirate ship car is amphibious and trader joes is next to the lake. after every raid they ask me if ive seen a pirate ship car and every time i say "nope, just me and my pirate ship boat sirs!" flawless.

[fadedlovemp3]

the Trader Joe’s dark russet chips taste exactly like the little super fried fries in the bottom of the bag im obsessed

[herald-divine-hell]

Avvar War-Paint

Summary: Jac spends some time with an Avvar woman, getting her face painted.

Warnings: Suggestive content, not suitable for those not older than 18+. MDI

~

Whitehands’ fingers gilded slowly and measured across Jac’s cheekbone, her sun-darkened face was ruddy from the torchlight, stripped with withering shadows. A tiny scarlet ember gleamed lost in the dark brown of her eyes, sprouting chips of gold. The cool white paint dripped long trickles down Jac’s cheeks, a keen edge from the heat roused by the cup of ale, half-empty. Another heat, burning like a furnace, roiled above her navel, an old desire whenever she had a pretty girl—or boy, for that matter—on her lap. 

Though settled on her lap, Whitehands was forced to look and reach up to brush the warpaint on the princess’ sharp, chiseled face. Her mother’s coloring she had, the russet copper that fell thick in heavy curls down her back, unbounded and tousled by Whitehand’s long pale fingers, and her pale skin, burnished scarlet from drunk’s blush. But she had her father’s features, his high and wide cheekbones, strong, square jaw, wide chin, and hooked nose. Perhaps the only softest allowed to her was her eyes, almond-shaped and long, with her father’s silvery-blue eyes, like the cold glowing heart of a winter’s moon; and her lips, full and often smiling. Scars slashed her face, a long one running from her check, angled diagonal along the curve of her jaw. Other tiny ones latticed her cheeks, one slashed across her brow. A handsome face, Whitehands said. The face of the kin of the Lady of the Skies and Korth the Mountain-Father. That had made Jac laugh, close it nearly was to the truth. Father is a mountain of a man, and mother has the blissful step of gliding across clouds when she wishes.

And like her father—and most of her kin—Jacqueline Trevelyan, Princess of the Frostbacks, Sword of the Realm, Shield of the Sacred Temple, was not a tiny woman. She was large, standing seven-foot-five, with broad shoulders, long limbs covered with corded muscles from years of training with bow, spear, lance, and sword. Years of work with the Avvar and the Dalish, as her father decreed her to do, had turned her long-fingered and wide palms thick with callouses, and she did always felt more comfortable in a doublet or long coat than she ever did in a dress. 

And naked, I supposed, she thought with a half smile. The night’s cold air flooded in from the smoke-hole set at the center of the thatched roof. Spills of gray moonlight soaked the air in silver, and the small fire burning in the small circular hearth beneath it gave a lazy orange-golden haze to the home. The icy mountain air traced long claws across her bare chest, across her broad back, biting like a lover. She wore nothing beside the heavy bear fur blanket wrapped around Whitehands’ full, wide hips and her own. But the warmth from Whitehands’ strong, layered softly with wobbles of flesh, thighs eased any coldness in her legs, and her breasts pressed nicely against Jac’s chest that the cold tumbled away her like a shrugged off cloak. The years and multiple child-births had turned Whitehands’ soft and full, but Jac thought she was still beautiful. True, she found most people beautiful, but there was something more in Whitehands’, in the way her breasts bounced when she rode Jac like a warrior-princess rode her dragon that made the princess herself insane with desire. 

“I know my teats are very fetching, but I need you to stop flickering your eyes down to look at them. It is making me distracted,” came the husky, quiet voice of the Avvar woman. Her long brown hair fell thick and straight down to the small of her back, and the rubbing hand Jac had laid on it shifted up to glide through the silky strands. 

The Princess hummed, her smile growing. “You bare them in front of me like that, and this painting is taking so long—it feels like I’m sitting for one of the portraits Aunt Josie has me go through whenever I visit. I have to look at something, no?” 

“Yet, I imagine this setting of yours is more agreeable, I think. Lift your hand up from my arse, Princess. Gods, you are insatiable—more than most Avvar I bed with.”

A coil of jealousy struck in Jac’s chest, but she kept her face softened with a smile. Her ears thundered with a ravaging song to claim the Avvar woman there, and Jac half-knew that she was trying to gauge her on, to do just that, just for Whitehands to turn the tables on her. She was her father’s daughter—she knew patience, and she will show her now. She may have learned from the Avvar, may be accepted by them just as her father, but she knew dignity still. Jac was no monster. Shame drowned her until that coil unlashed itself and fell shriveling to the very depths of her soul, lost by the heat of drink. That chilly shame tempered the lust within her well enough for Jac to remove her hand from its presence on Whitehands’ backside. But they returned on her hip, squeezed gently, reassuringly, and she bowed her head a little. 

That gave her a full sight of Whitehands’ ample cleavage, but Jac shook that away with a firm glare within herself. Red-purple marks covered her sun-darkened skin from the few hours ago when Jac’s lips laid upon them in conquest. A dozen marks cover her, and handprints as well, from where her strong, stony grip held her down as Jac took her from behind. Jac also knew that more than a dozen similar marks and nail scratches were scraped into her skin from Whitehands. She did not mind—she wore them proudly. 

Whitehands continued on her painting, a smirk verging onto a smile, stuffed full with malicious teasing, crowned her face. Every so often, her hands would dip away to the side, gathering new paint—this time black—and that would cause a subtle shift of her hips, back and fro, side to side, that roused a heavy growl at the back of her throat. 

After the seventh time, the desire overcame her, and Jac’s grip on her hands strengthened as she added the other hand to her waist. Her lips came crashing down onto those smiling ones, a breathless moan from the older Avvar woman arousing that growl again. For how long they kissed, Jac did not know, and in truth she did not care. The soft moans elicited by Whitehands was more than enough to count time, and she wanted to hear them more. 

She did not know when she had turned Whitehands onto her back, pressing her deep into the bed. Nor did she realize those soft, supple, and plump legs hiding powerful lithe muscles wrap tight about Jac’s waist. Jac pressed down against her with a growing need, kissing at her lips, pulling back to grasp some air, before diving down again. Cold paint soaked her arms where Whitehands had grasped her biceps, trickled along the back and sides of her neck when her hands grasped her cheeks and slipped beneath her thick copper curls to hold her lips down against hers. The sensation was oddly pleasant to her, she thought, a cool reflection to the heat swallowing her body, muddling her mind until all that she could think of was Whitehands beneath her, coming undone by her, by mouth and finger and magical spell she so adored. 

When Jac pulled away to catch breath, Whitehands stopped her with hands on her chest. “I’m…I’m not finished,” she said, puffing. A heavy blush burned her cheeks and down her neck so irresistibly that Jac bent down to begin layering kisses and tiny nibbles to her skin. 

“Let us have a break from me, my lovely lady. I think it is time for me to decorate you in paint.”

A near breathless laugh flooded out of Whitehands, and one of her hands that had halted her reached out to grasp her by the back of her neck. “You better paint it inside me, Princess.”

Jac grinned as she learned down, pressing kisses along her neck, across her breasts, between them where her heart laid. Whitehands’ heartbeat danced like a rapid river’s run. As she shifted further down, fingers gliding over her soft, plump stomach to between her legs, listening as Whitehands’ back arched ever so slightly and all the gathered air left her in a single gasp, Jac said, “I would not have that any other way.”

[thefoxsbookofdays]

16th October

Death of a Russet Burbank.

"Russet Burbank is a potato cultivar with dark brown skin and few eyes that is the most widely grown potato in North America. A russet type, its flesh is white, dry, and mealy, and it is good for baking, mashing, and french fries (chips).It is a common and popular potato.' WIKIPEDIA

" They can occasionally be found tossed casually aside from B- double trucks, forgotten and lonely until they are casually swept up by a passing pedestrian and taken home for tea at the bottom of the world" THE FOX.