stool movement

b’shert ; werewolf!suga

{n.} lit. “destiny”; the seeking of a person who will complement you and whom you will complement perfectly.

werewolf!yoongi. fluff. 1674 words.

Originally posted by lethargicmin


“Good morning, miss, what will you be having today?” You smile at the young lady around her early 30’s; a note pad and pen in hand.

She return your smile, setting down the menu, “I’ll have ham and cheese and saute sausages. And coffee, please.”

“Your order will be with you shortly.” You state cheerily, scribbling down the order in a writing at times, even you can’t understand.

Before you reach the counter, the bell chimes and the sound of footsteps fill the small diner. You half-yell the order to Krystal, seeing as she’s on kitchen duty and basically is the better cook than you. Pouring the hot coffee into a mug, you then walk back to the lady and set it on the table. 

The pay isn’t much but you manage to make ends meet with your earnings. Honestly, you’d rather live in a broken down apartment building than the pack house that you lived in if it meant escaping your cheating ex-boyfriend. 

Sure, he cheated on you with someone he’s meant to be with from the start, but for fuck’s sake, he should’ve broke it off with you first instead of having you find out by bursting onto his room with his birthday cake balanced on your palms. 

Thus, you upped and left and you never regret your decision.

“Good morning, what can I get you lovely gentlemen?” You greet them.

“‘Lovely’ is for girls, _____.” The one with dark hair cringes at your choice of words.

You must have looked alarm when he points out the name tag on attached to your shirt and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Unappealing gentlemen, then.” You rephrase.

“Mean.” The same boy state sulkily and the one with ginger hair gestures his hand to get your attention but before he can place his order, the bell rings again and another boy with mint hair steps in.

His eyes scans the entire room before they land on the crowd that you’re serving or better yet, they land exactly on you. Your breath hitches when he gives you a once over and you swear you feel like a little kid facing the freaking headmaster for doing something naughty. 

He saunters over with agonizingly slow yet perfect pace, sitting himself at the far end of the table which happens to be the only empty seat and also closest to you.

“Yoongi-hyung, what took you so long?” The ginger haired boy asks.

“I’m not too keen on wasting my energy this early in the morning just to race you guys to a place we’re going to reach anyway.” Yoongi yawns.

They place their order and you leave them to it.

“They’re kind of cute.” Krystal whispers, smiling slyly as she flips the pancakes on the griddle- the boys’ order.

“I’m cuter.” You joke, disregarding their attractiveness.

“Oh come on, we’re not looking for something serious here. Maybe you can get me the number of that cute pink haired guy?” She smiles slyly.

You’re not looking for something serious. I’m not looking for anything at all. And I’ll see what I can do about your future booty call.” You wink to which Krystal just ignores and focuses on the first part.

“_____, you’ve been here for a little over a year and I never see you flirt with a guy or even talk about one. You’ve got to get out there, taste the fishes in the water.”

Before you have a chance you reply, the sound of a chair scrapping catches your attention and you make your way to the counter. Yoongi walks over, crossing his arms over the surface of the bar as he leans in a bit.

“Hey, do you have coffee?” He asks, giving you a cute little smile.

You build up your walls just as soon as the thought of him being cute occupies your head.

“Yeah, sure. You go sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”

But instead of rejoining his friends, he takes a seat on the stool, observing your movements like a hawk. Your palms begin to sweat and your hands start to shake but not enough for the human eyes to detect.

Setting the black mug in front of him, his hand goes to gasp the handle, brushing against yours and that’s when you feel tingles erupting from the spot his kin touches yours. Impetuously, you withdraw your hand and take a step back for assurance of security even though there’s basically a bar separating the two of you.

What the hell was that?

“You’re not from around here, are you?” He eyes you, lifting the mug off with his left hand and bringing it to his lips.

“Not really.” Your reply is short and curt, hinting your disinterest in the small talk he’s trying to initiate as you tune into your wolf senses.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” He asserts.

“No, not when I feel my privacy is being invaded.”

Yoongi nods understandingly, leaving it at that and letting the silence take over. Not trusting the boy, you choose to lean against the door frame that leads to the kitchen, staring him down as he shoots you an indifferent glance.

“Is there someone you’re hiding from?” He casually inquire and you don’t know if it’s just your conscience telling you to be nicer when all he’s doing is asking questions out of genuine curiosity and not meaning any harm to you but either way, you reply as politely as you could.

“Something like that.” You respond, opting to make it as vague as possible.

“Uh, _____, food’s done.” Krystal murmur, somewhat not wanting to interrupt the barely two sided conversation.

You grab the plates, steadying four at a time, a talent you picked up after a year of serving at the diner and march over to the crowd of boys that’s throwing napkins into each others’ face to past time. Carefully, you set the plates down with a clank and stride back to the kitchen to get the rest, never sparing a glace in Yoongi’s way while he drills holes into your head.

“Anything else, I can get you?” You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms against your chest, ending up behind the bar again.

Yoongi gets up, raising both hands as a treaty sign, backing away and snatching his mug of coffee before whirling around and taking his previous seat at the table. Right where he sat, a piece of paper lies bare on the counter and you skeptically eye him, finding him digging in like the rest of his friends before picking up the thin paper.

Scribbled on it is a phone number and a name; Namjoon, the pink haired guy aka future booty call.

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

The next day; he’s back again. You’re just getting ready to open up; switching on the coffee maker and lights when the door opens. The bell’s supposed to ring but if you push it slowly enough, it won’t.

 At first, you assume that Krystal’s trying to give you the occasional failed scare but the sound of awfully light shuffling that’s barely there tells you that it’s not her.

And sure enough, you’re not greeted by Krystal’s radiant smile and exuberant 'Good morning’ but instead you’re met with a familiar gaze and an bored countenance, leaning against the table directly in front of you. 

Caution of what he is, your body tenses up at the possible threat in front of you; it’s not going to be good if he is what you though he is. Because no human ear can possibly catch you and Krystal’s -well, only Krystal’s- swooning over their good looks and booty call discussion.

“We’re not open yet.” You emphasize.

“Who is it?” He quizzes.

“Who’s what?” Yep, play stupid, _____, maybe he’ll leave you alone if you do.

“Is it someone from your pack?” He answers instantly.

“Who told you?”

Well, way to go and let the cat out of the bag.

He growls lowly, somewhat sounding more like a beast than a man as his eyes turn pitch black. Your body freezes, feeling cold blood rush through you. You know that growl anywhere; it’s a werewolf’s. Your suspicions were right; guess you wolf-dar is still working though a bit rusty because you should’ve identified them the moment they walked in. 

But then again, the thing about werewolves are that they’re no different from any normal humans, it’s the little details that differentiate them like how they growl in an animal-like way or how their eyes changed pitch black when they’re angry.

“You just did.”

You eye your surrounding for a possible escape; the front door is out of the question because you’d have to pass him first to get there and the back door is too far away. 

The only other option left is to defend yourself which you’re good at but you’ve only ever beaten up she-wolves in cat fights- or should you say; dog fights? No, no, no, _____, this isn’t the time to be cracking up a joke. You shake your head.

“What I do with my former pack is entirely my business. I’m not posing any threat to yours, I’m just trying to live my life peacefully.” You reason.

“How’s that working out for you?” He asks condescendingly, as if he’s relating a lesson to a kid who’s paid for being naughty.

You scowl, feeling your pride being stepped on and he irks you eve further with his following words of so-called philosophy, “Living in hiding is different from living peacefully, _____.” He pushes himself off the table and takes brief ambles towards you.

“Yeah, well, I don’t see how you come into the picture and have the right to lecture me on my decisions in life.” You snap.

He stops right in front of you and you resist the urge to press your lips to his soft-looking ones- fuck. What the hell is wrong with you?

“How does 'by being your mate’ sound like to you?" 

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

Note; ayy, werewolf!yoongi lmao idek man.

My name is Chayla Fisher. I’m 16. I am hoping to spread awareness about something that has become increasingly more prevalent in my life within the past few months. I know it’s long, but please read my story and then Like, Share, and Comment on this post in order to inform the world about a disease that affects over 5 million people worldwide and is rarely talked about.

 

When I was 8 months old I was diagnosed with called Ulcerative Colitis (UC), an autoimmune disorder in which my immune system mistakes food, bacteria, and other materials in the intestine for foreign or invading substances and when this happens, the body sends white blood cells into the lining of the intestines, where they produce chronic inflammation and ulcerations. My entire life has been filled with severe pain, discomfort, fatigue, increased frequency and urgency of bowel movements, bloody stools, and other debilitating symptoms. In addition, I have always had to watch my diet, control my stress levels, and take numerous harsh medications in order to reduce my symptoms.

 

I’ve spent the majority of my life hiding in the shadow of my disease, not understanding what was going on with me and not seeking support for dealing with it. I didn’t even know something was “wrong” with me until I was 14 and I had to take a medication called prednisone to make my symptoms better. Although this helped, it also had side effects including weight gain and bone pain. I gained 60 pounds in one month, and with that I lost all of my self-confidence. That year I also found out about Team Challenge, a half-marathon training program that benefits the CCFA. A couple months later I ran my 1st half-marathon in Kona, Hawaii. Since then, I have run 3 half-marathons and raised over $14,000 since.

 

Although I have been able to fight off the symptoms of my disease with mild drugs and diets for most my life, these past 10 months have been a horrible downward spiral. In May of 2014 my symptoms started up again, but I ignored them in order to finish my sophomore year of high school and continue playing soccer. Since then, I have had 3 hospital stays and tried numerous medications, all with horrible side effects. The worst being an antiTNF drug called Gulimimab (also a chemotherapy drug, used for treating cancer). When I was driving home from my 2nd hospital stay, I ran my hand through my hair and a clump came out. I watched my hair slowly fall out clump by clump until I couldn’t take it anymore and I shaved it off.

 

 I am writing this in the hospital bed that I have been laying in for over a month, hoping every day that they will find a cure other than removing your colon. I am on so many medications I can’t keep track. I’m on my last resort med called Entyvio; it has been approved for adults but not for children, so I am scared that something might happen. I’m building a tolerance to the pain meds and am still in so much pain. It’s hard not to cry from all of this.

 

No, I don’t have cancer. No, I’m not dying. No, I just have to take the medications that cancer patients do and suffer in pain for months in the hospital like cancer patients do. But I don’t get the compassion that cancer patients do. My disease does not get the publicity that cancer does. Most people have never even heard about Ulcerative Colitis. I am not the only one that has a story like this. UC is not a disease to be forgotten about, laughed about, or embarrassed about. It is a disease to be talked about.

 

Even though l lost my hair, have missed over 3 months of my Junior year of high school, and have been stuck in the hospital for 50 days, I am trying to keep a smile on my face. I missed Christmas and New Years. I haven’t felt well in 10 months. I almost forget what it feels like to feel normal. But I know this isn’t forever. I am a fighter and I will not lose this battle.

Herb of the Week-Bearbind/Bindweed

COMMON NAMES

Bearbind
Hedge Bind Weed
Old Man’s Nightcap

Bindweed

Bearbind (botanical name Convolvulus sepium) is a perennially growing herb-like plant having climbing and spiraling stems that bear alternative leaves. This plant produces white or light pink blooms with white streaks and shaped like trumpets. The flowers appear during the period of July and September and similar to all the other species of this genus, develop while there is sunlight and stay closed when the weather conditions are gloomy. However, unlike the blooms of the Field Convolvulus, bearbind flowers do not close when it is raining. The seeds of this herb are like capsules. Bearbind has a chunky tubercle root that forms at the base of the stem and goes to sleep during the fall to remain underground all through the winter months.

The scientific name of bearbind is derived from the Latin terms ‘convolvere’, which when translated into English denotes ‘to entwine’, and ‘sepes’ meaning ‘a hedge’. In fact, the botanical name of bearbind suggests the manner in which this plant, also known as hedge bindweed, grows. Wherever this herb grows, such as in thickets or hedges, it has the aptitude to twine itself with its spirals and generally it counters clockwise in a roundabout fashion on any neighboring plant or a fence for support.

In the form of a therapeutic herb, bearbind or bindweed has been held in high esteem for the potent purgative of its leaves, roots and stems of the herb. In addition, in folk medicine, this herb was also used to cure jaundice.

Bearbind or bindweed is a close relative of the common morning glory (Ipomoea purpurea) and is among the most widespread weeds found in North America. At the same time, it is also among the most attractive weeds in the region. However, gardeners are not in favour of bearbind, as it strangulates the plants growing in its neighbourhood, while the plant massive root system causes soil depletion.

It may be noted that bearbind is simply a member of a vast plant family, which also comprises sea bindweed, field bindweed, Syrian bindweed (also called scammony) and jalap bindweed (found in Mexico as well as South America). To some extent, these plants posses a similar cathartic attributes and they also possess other properties, which are common to all. All plants in this family produce beautiful flowers resembling the shape of a trumpet and whose hue varies from white in the case of bearbind, red-stripped rose in the instance of sea bindweed, and sulphur-yellow of scammony. In addition, there is another common aspect of the flowers of these plants - they all remain closed on gloomy days when there is no sunshine or sunlight.

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I cannot stop laughing at this woman.

Tig Notaro is hilarious.

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This makes me laugh every time.

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TIG!

Fic: You or Someone Like You, pt. 3

(First parts can be found here and here!)

“I can’t believe how much he looks like Tony.”

“Do me a favor. Don’t bring that up.” Steve said to Bruce. It took more effort than he cared to acknowledge to tear his eyes away from the little boy who was currently perched on one of Tony’s highest bench stools, his fingers careful and assured as he went through the process of disassembling the Roomba. No one had given him any instruction, Tony had barely had time to give the boy a tray of tools before he was popping the casing off.

Now, he was half-crouched on the stool, the heels of his feet caught on the edge of the seat, his arms stretched around his knees to do his work. Harris, his broom now resting on his knees, sat next to him, just watching, his eyes wide.

Bruce paused next Steve, his arms wrapped around a clipboard. “He’s, uh, he’s not handling this well, I take it?” he asked with a faint smile.

“Well,” Steve said, drawing the word out, “considering the situation, I think he’s bearing up pretty darn well. He tell you what’s going on?”

“I got the condensed version,” Bruce admitted. He stared at the boy, his brow creasing. “I’m starting to suspect it was the highly condensed version.”

“I’m not sure we’ve got an uncondensed version, to be honest,” Steve said. “Things are still a little… Complicated.”

Bruce nodded. “I’m… Getting that.”

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