#I've done the bulk of the work and organizing but it isn't actually that much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lihikainanea · 2 years

Note

I read in the interview that Bill had a strict training schedule for Boy Kills World (before he left Sweden for Cape Town) that resulted in an injured leg and that for the photoshoot he was limping. Can you do a little story where Bill comes home limping from the injury and maybe he tries to hide it from Tiger because he knew she’d worry and say he’s working himself too hard? Or something similar?

I'm glad I'm not the only one that had this delicious thought. I wonder what part of his leg it was? The most common injury is to the thigh. Which is, ahem, really a beautiful thought isn't it?

But wait, let's back up a second here. When I read the summary of Boy Kills World I knew Bill would be undergoing some serious training if he had a hope of making this character look realistic. And I've waxed poetic before about my sheer desire to like...FIGHT Bill. Or at least, teach him how to fight. Because he has the potential to be a beautiful fighter, and he has so much to his advantage--not his height, actually, that's a disadvantage--but his long, long limbs. His litheness. With a little flexibility, he could be deadly.

And I am saddened that I don't know more Hollywood martial artists because I would love to be a fly on the wall.

But anyway, Bill has a lot of training to do. And I love this concept that like...tiger gets into it. That's so cute, isn't it? Tiger is all in for her Big Dude. Not on the training aspect, but on what he needs to bulk and sustain for the role. Once he gets his training plan, tiger asks if she can tag along to his meeting with his nutritionist--and Bill smiles a little bit when tiger sits down, all business, and actually takes out a notepad.

And the nutritionist is going over grams and proteins and when he needs to eat what and tiger is taking notes and Bill's heart could just explode--and when she starts actually asking questions, he's done for. She's asking about oils and fats and how she can cook his food and what he's not allowed, she's asking about caloric intake and how to calculate it, she's asking about protein sources and carbohydrate sources and flavours that he can have without adding too much bad calories.

Once they're back in the car Bill reaches over and grabs her chin softly, pulling her in for a kiss.

"You don't have to do this kid," he murmurs, "You don't have to do anything for me."

"I want to," she smiles, "This is going to be intense for you, bud. If there's something I can do to help lessen it, to make it a bit easier--I want to do it."

A shipment comes in the next day--two huge boxes--and it's full of protein powders and muscle builders and Bill eyes it wearily as tiger unpacks it all.

"You won't even realize you're eating it," she says as she organizes them, "I promise."

Bill gives her a dubious look.

"If anything, I'm gonna be the one noticing pal," she retorts.

"What?"

"Common knowledge," she says as she nonchalantly places another huge jar of aggressively-labeled product on the counter, "Muscle building diets make your spunk taste gross."

"What?!" Bill nearly chokes, but tiger is unfazed.

"It's true," she shrugs.

"Then I'll have to counterbalance it by eating like....an entire field of pineapples everyday."

"No pineapple allowed," she continues about her business, "Too high in sugar."

And listen, the next day when Bill is away training for like, 10 fucking hours--tiger gets shit done. She has an astronomically large grocery list. She has a meal plan for the next three weeks. She hauls everything home and starts washing, chopping, cooking, labelling. Her kitchen scale is working on overtime, everything is perfectly weighed out, cooked according to the strict guidelines she has to follow.

And then everything is put into containers, Tupperware, and labelled. Not only what it is, but when he needs to eat it. His intake at 6AM within 15 minutes of him waking up. 7:30AM breakfast. 10AM snack. Lunch. 2PM snack. 4PM snack. 6PM dinner.

The exact food he needs to eat, at the exact time he needs to eat it. By the time she's done, just one week's worth of his meals and snacks takes up nearly the entire refrigerator, and the rest is stocked in a deep freeze.

She's nursing a glass of wine by the time he gets home, sore and stiff, and she's waiting with a protein shake and a hug.

"How was what?" she asks, and Bill just groans.

"Come on big guy, I'll run you a bubble bath."

But then like, inevitably--when you train that hard, whether you're used to it or not--you're gonna get injured. It's to be expected. And maybe Bill is just in such a permanent state of soreness that he doesn't realize at first that he really is genuinely injured, but when he realizes it--shit, he's in pain. He walks with a noticeable limp. Now he has to start going in for physiotherapy sessions in addition to his workout sessions--and tiger is already doing so much for him, she's already fussing and fretting over him so much, that he doesn't want to add this on top of it. He doesn't want her to worry. So everyday he goes in and he gets the injury taped up, worked on, he gets his workouts in and then he takes the tape off and tries to walk normally. And it hurts--it hurts like hell--but he manages well enough that she doesn't notice.

That is, until he crawls into bed one night and shrugs off his sweats. Tiger kisses his chin, then the hollow of his neck, then his chest. He groans as she makes her way down further, leaving suckling kisses, but then her hands run across his thighs and she stops. His eyes widen.

“What the fuck is this?” she asks.

He forgot to take off the tape.

“Uh....” he stammers. She pinches his belly and he shrieks.

“I got hurt,” he mumbles.

“You got hurt?” she repeats, “When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Ugh, Bill!” she pinches his belly again and he jerks.

“Ow tiger,” he whines, dragging it out, “Stop pinching me.”

She pushes the covers down and sits up. He bites his lip as he looks up at her sheepishly.

“What happened?” she runs her hand gently over the tape, and he sighs.

“It’s a pulled muscle. I twisted wrong in one of the fight choreographies and messed it up,” he tells her.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt?” she asks again.

“...yes,” he admits.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she leans down, closer to his face and runs her fingers over his brow.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” he admits, “You’re doing so much for me already, kid. I didn’t want this added on top of it.”

“I could have helped,” she says softly.

“The only thing that helps is brutal physiotherapy,” he readjusts his head on the pillow, and then smirks devilishly. “And blow jobs.”

“And blow jobs eh?” she chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s science,” he says, “Doctor’s orders.”

#BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill Skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard fic #bill skarsgard fiction #bill skarsgard fanfic #bill skarsgard fanfiction

41 notes · View notes

prismatic-starstuff · 2 years

Note

Dude I'm about to lose it, so like I'm not done with my digging in fact I've barely scratched the surface so far, but listen to this: At one point a guy in the YouTube comments of a video said that they work with plants and that in plants, grafting new plants like that makes them more susceptible to breaking and being fragile in general because they all feed off of the og plant, and they were applying this to the Elden Ring concept of grafting. Now obviously that's plants and while in a lot of regards plants work similarly to fleshy organisms, a few of my pals were like "Well that's plants. Probably doesn't work like that here." and I'm not one not to provide more proof of my claims, so I thought long and hard about the closest real life concept I know of that I could utilise to either confirm or disprove this and I settled on what used to be called "parasitic twin" (outdated term but the current one is long af and I forgot it. It's something like underdeveloped embryo syndrome? Idk). Basically, an underdeveloped conjoined twin, most commonly presenting as an extra limb on the body of the developed individual, needs the nutrients and blood supply of the developed one to "survive" (in quotation marks because when it's just a limb you can't really...say survive or live, I think). A lot of the time this negatively affects the developed person as it puts strain on their heart and makes them prone to heart failure.

"Oh but isn't that different because the extra twin is technically native to their body?" you might ask. "Wouldn't it be closer to stuff like phalloplasty?" Well I get the sentiment but no because with phalloplasty A) it doesn't need that much blood supply, like it doesn't...it doesn't get up naturally, for example. B) a dick is a body part 50% of the population has naturally and a lot of them don't have a bigger heart. The only thing I'd argue that is the same/similar is the possible process of rejection. I mean yeah yeah Elden Ring is a fantasy game, I get it, but of course irl grafts have a chance of rejecting, like piercings, but differently. Grafts need blood supply, for example nipple grafts have a 10% chance of dying (at least parts of them) due to insufficient/no blood supply. So in theory grafts in Elden Ring should have a chance of being rejected by the body. I digress though, what I wanted to say is:

Basically Godrick's grafting is probably actually making him sicker because his heart, which is not adapted for about 14 extra limbs, has to pump blood into all of them and that's...not exactly good for it. Nor him. Ergo

Oh my goodness, this... this is really interesting. Because when you look at Godrick, like, sure, he's able to roll around and swing that massive axe like no-one's business, but he does very genuinely look sickly; he's unnaturally pale, his cheeks are sunken, his actual body is frail without the grafts attached to bulk it up... His ramblings and stranger quirks - like speaking to a dead dragon as though it's alive - could also be a sign of this; if there's not enough blood circulation to get proper amounts of oxygen to his brain, that would have an effect on his behaviour.

This was such an interesting read; thank you so much for sharing! Got me thinking about him in a whole new light now...

23 notes · View notes

supersizemeplz · 5 years

Text

Pastor Duke

Part Two

Winston Duke x Black PlusSized Reader

Another #supersizedfic short. Continuation of this short, though no one asked for it. But I kind of like this AU. Enjoy!

A pair of sleek black heels rested by the doorway of the kitchen. Contrasting against the seamless white tile of the floor. Hushed bubbling and boiling came from the stove as food cooked atop it, leaving no stove eye unattended. A ham cooked in the oven, just about done as time ticked closer to five o'clock.

You moved about the spacious kitchen, humming a song that was stuck in your head as you did so. Some R&B song that had played on the radio as you drove home from church. The dress you wore swayed with your movement, covered by the polka dotted apron you wore. It's deep color was a contrast from the dress you'd worn earlier, and you hoped that Winston would like it.

Winston.

You smiled to yourself, putting a little bounce in your step. Of course, the man was undeniably handsome. Tall, thick, and attractive. Winston was a year older than you, according to his aunt Melanie. He'd graduated college with two master's and does a bit of charity work when he isn't in the pulpit.

You'd helped at an event that he'd hosted once before. A cookout for the youth of the church. He'd asked you personally for your help in that, spending as much time as he could with you during the day. You'd caught his quick glances at you, as well as holding back a smile when you'd noticed his longing ones.

You chuckled at the memory of him that day. The man had the perfect stature of intimidation yet the moment he was around you it shed. I'd taken him most of the day to get the courage to ask you to lunch, which you sadly couldn't agree to because of something that'd came up.

You considered this a rain check.

The doorbell sounded through the house, in two quick dings before the visitor rapped a beat against the door. Shawn. Every since his teens, that was his signal to let you know that it was him at that was knocking.

Wiping your hands on a clean towel, you turned down the stove eyes before leaving the kitchen. Your house slippers were silent as you padded into the front hallway, undoing the locks before you pulled the door open.

Shawn stood before you, beaming that charming smile. "Hey mama." He stepped forward, hugging you tight and pecking a kiss to your forehead. You smiled, returning the greeting. Before your eyes landed on her, the infamous Monae that'd caught the heart of your baby boy.

You'd noticed her almond shaped eyes first beneath those thick, arched eyebrows. Her round nose housed a touch of highlight on its tip, above the touch that tainted her cupid's bow. She gave a nervous smile that spread her full lips, both her hands holding her purse in front of her and against her thighs.

Shawn cleared his throat, stepping back to stand by her side. He put a comforting hand to the small of her back, giving her side a small squeeze of assurance. "Mama, this is Monae. My girlfriend." Monae kept her eyes on you, trying to read your face as she mumbled a soft 'nice to meet you'.

Her hand was held out towards you and you glanced to it. Letting her sweat a bit before you broke into a full smile. "I'm a hugger, honey." You gave her a warming hug, feeling her relax. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Monae. I would say I've heard about you, but Shawn likes keeping secrets."

She nudged him with a playful eye roll. "I told him to tell you about us sooner, but it isn't easy persuading him." Shawn laughed, mumbling a 'I had to prepare myself'. "But I have definitely heard about you. All good things and I've been excited about finally getting to meet you. And thank you raising such an amazing son."

You move aside to let them in, smiling as you allowed them past. "Do you need any help setting up? I wouldn't mind." Monae asked as she looked to you, allowing Shawn to take her coat and purse to hang up. You liked her already. Accepting her offer, you waved Shawn away to watch television before leading her to the kitchen.

Handing her an apron, you got her a few serving bowls and directed her to put all the sides in a bowl of their own. She nodded, starting off with the greens. As you slipped the ham out the oven, you began asking her about herself. Her family, her education, her goals, if Shawn is treating her right. Her answers were clear and impressive, reminding you a lot of yourself when you were her age. Determined & organized.

"Mama, your boyfriend is here!"

You rolled your eyes at your son's outburst, hearing Monae giggle from the other side of the table. "Here I come!!" Making sure everything was in place, you switched into your heels. Tossing the slippers into the hall closet as you passed it. The doorbell rang as you made it to the door, slowing you down.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hands over your dress. The bell rang again and you smiled, opening the door to reveal him in all his glory. His usual choice of a suit was gone and replaced by black dress pants and a burgundy sweater. He wore loafer styled shoes to match his pants, and that socks that peeked matched his shirt.

He held a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. Red roses and red wine. "Hello, Winston." You grinned, stepping aside to let him in. He took the gesture with a smile as he greeted you back, humming as he mumbled that it smelt amazing. You thanked him, closing the door behind you.

His gaze found you again, trailing over your body before meeting your gaze. "These are for you.." He held out the roses, licking his lips nervously. "..and I brought wine. Though I wasn't sure if you drank or not.. Not that you seem like the drinking type. It just seemed like something to bring to a dinner." You giggled at his rambling, taking the wine from him as well.

"Thank you, Mr. Duke. I do drink a bit of wine, every once in a while." You smiled, seeing him relax. Holding the flowers to your nose, you inhaled gently. "These are beautiful, Winston.." Looking up at him with your nose still in the flowers, you smiled a bit bigger.

He found himself smiling as well. Hands tucked into his pockets as he admired you. "Almost as beautiful as you.." He hadn't realized he'd said it, but you heard it. Your eyes lit up and you smirked at him. Opening your mouth to speak before someone cleared there throat.

"Pastor Duke, I'm glad to see you made it. I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Monae." They disappeared towards the dining room. Shawn throwing an amused glance over his shoulder to you. You chuckled, shaking your head as they both rounded your corner. That boy was something serious.

Dinner seemed to go by quicker than expected. Everyone becoming a part of whatever conversation went on. You and Winston threw glances at each other every so often, more so him than you. He tried playing it off though, doing it as he drank his water or using the moments you spoke as a reason to look at you.

You'd watched him closely as well, picking up little habits of his. Like the bounce of his shoulders when he laughed or the change of his voice when he spoke about something passionate. Shawn seemed to study him as well, as if he was discreetly checking for any red flags. Though the smile he wore as he conversed with Winston was one of liking.

When time seemed to catch Shawn's attention, him and Monae left with intentions of getting rest for work the next day. You gave them both hugs and a motherly be careful before sending them on their way.

Now came cleanup, which Winston insisted on helping with..

He'd rolled up his sleeves, helping to carry the dishes from the dining room and to the kitchen. Arms bulking a bit as he did so. You smiled as he washed dishes for you. His big body in your apron to prevent his outfit from being ruined.

Conversation flowed naturally.

Both of you throwing out small things about yourself, getting to know each other better. At one point, he'd insisted that you relax and let him finish putting up the food so he could wash out the containers. Since you'd done all the work to prepare the dinner.

He throwing his usual glances at you, smiling as he spoke. Telling little jokes that you'd giggle at. They came naturally because he was actually funny. You hated to say it, but you'd never seen yourself as being a first lady. It seemed like it came with a boring relationship and constant church affairs. But the more time you'd spent around Winston, the more that mindset faded.

The topic of marriage came about, and you shared that you'd never been married. Shawn's father was a old friend of yours, and you both decided to do the co-parenting thing. Now, he was happily married and you were still searching for your candidates. But you definitely hoped to find your soulmate one day, whether you married of not.

"Have you ever been married, Mr. Duke?" You sipped your glass of wine, sitting on the counter. The slippers you tossed in the hallway closet earlier were back on your feet. Those heels resting in the closet in their place.

"No ma'am." He shook his head, glancing to you before focusing back on the dish in his hand. "I've never just had that perfect chemistry with anyone. That feeling of this woman could be the one.. Until recently.." He licked his lips, glancing to you with a small smirk.

You grinned, sipping from your glass to hide it. Crossing your ankles as you tilted your head, batting your lashes twice. "Ooo, a love interest? Would you care to share who that special someone is, Mr. Duke?" Sitting up straighter, you smiled. He chuckled, wiping his hands dry on a clean towel.

He walked to where you were, leaning against the counter opposite of you. A hand adjusted his glasses as he looked to you, smiling. "Actually, you've caught my eye. And all night, I've been trying to find a way to ask you if.." He cleared his throat, standing tall as he found your gaze. "Would you allow me to take you out for a date? My treat, of course, and any day you'd see fit."

______________________

Taglist: @sisterwifeudaku @kumkaniudaku @elaindeereads @wawakanda-btch @theunsweetenedtruth @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @unholyxcumbucket @purple-apricots @marvelpotterlove @chaneajoyyy @disneysdarlingdiva @wakanda-inspired @justanotherloveaffair @cmonkillmonger @princesskillmonger @theblulife @airis-paris14 @fonville-designs @liviy00 @cosmicmelaninflower @whoramilaje @yaachtynoboat711 @yofavcocoa @teheeboo @alexundefined @kaykay0829 @terrablaze514 @iwrite4poc @truglori @muse-of-mbaku @killmongerdispussy @jozigrrl @thedelightfulone @bugngiz @fiercedeception @tinyelfperson @ashleychristina73 @ikeea-world @softnani @tashawar @callme-slime @a1bunni @amethyst1993 @pinkdemolition @raysunshine78 @missmohnique @toniilaney

#winston duke #winston #black panther #mbaku x oc #mbaku imagine #mbaku x reader #mbaku x you #mbaku

76 notes · View notes

frogsandfries · 4 years

Text

Even though

Or maybe because, I'm making really good money by myself--never mind what my partner brings home--there's absolutely a ton of stuff I want for my apartment. It bothers my partner when I call it my apartment and I'm going to shrivel in embarrassment when he gives me the five hundred out of his check for rent that I should've paid and his check covered. Like, it would be my five hundred dollars, out of my own check-- but it would be my five hundred dollars that I don't have to pay in rent. I know exactly what I'm going to do with that money.

Before I put anymore stuff into my apartment, I desperately want a new tablet. I say want, my partner says I need a new tablet because this one is kind of eating my productivity.

But let's talk about something very real that's happening in my life. Currently, I'm sharing an account with my partner. Which makes me so, so nervous--and not without reason. I'm making the best money for currently the easiest job I've had yet. I'm making the most money I've ever made. And with a childhood like mine, I'm not very good at sharing. I don't want to share this money. I don't want to poor-brain it away; after some time in a stable situation, stable income, stable residence, I'll stop wanting to improve my home, I'll stop wanting to hoard art supplies for a rainy day that isn't coming. I'll have plenty of art supplies, plenty of storage and organization for everything from my home studio to my kitchen and bathroom. My wardrobe will be fully updated, all the worn stuff thrown away, replaced with stuff that is comfortable or beautiful, preferably both.

For me, there will be nothing left to purchase. Not really.

And the money will sit. Of course, I want to be financially intelligent. I want to invest as much money as I possibly can--after paying my loans--and I want to invest as diversely as possible. I want to continue to put away money for retirement, and I want money that will grow and be there for later.

I intend, as I always do, to stay at this job. We'll probably even stay in this neighborhood for a while. I want a stable situation from which I will put my health back on track--I'm already seeing a personal care provider, and looking for a psychologist. I want to start looking for a gynecologist and get my reproductive health in line for certain.

Actually, I told my PCP I wasn't using contraception and my period is badly irregular and she asked me if I thought my period was a form of birth control. I've seen far too much I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant to fall for that! But as much as I hope wonky periods aren't a full-stop blockade, I don't hold much hope of conceiving without some kind of intervention--I don't think I'll need to go so far as IUI, and I do wonder if it truly does take two to tango, but I really don't believe I'm getting there without some kind of help improving my health.

The pay I'm earning, plus having a general kinda been-there-done-that about the line of work (I have almost exclusively customer service experience and I have quite a bit of knowledge about telephone customer service), gives me a good idea about how much time I will realistically stay if my situation is generally stable otherwise.

I left two jobs in Janesville that neither paid well enough nor gave me enough hours to even survive, and even living mostly rent free, I didn't even imagine getting ahead. I left one job because I knew the living situation wasn't going to work out. I did leave one decent-paying temp/manufacturing job. They weren't going to hire us. At all. And they paid temps less in the first place, and then we got less after the agency took their cut. Why would I stay for four dollars less than a full hire?

But I dunno, it feels so far, like the prices are all right.

So anyway, I wanna get a bunch of clear vacuum sealed bulk containers for like flour and rice and sugar. I think it'd be cool to have something like apothecary jars for my herbs and spices and just go get my herbs and spices from a bulk store. I just want to make the maximum use possible of my food storage spaces. Of all my spaces, really--can you blame me? Space isn't abundant in an apartment, and I've spent my whole life making the absolute most out of what I've had. But I really want a uniform, organized pantry. Rice here, flour here, yeast easily accessed. I want to know at a glance exactly what's there and how much I need. I still aspire to start my food prep goals, freezing bite-sized amounts of yogurt and tomato sauce and rice and fruit and ground beef, for a variety of DIY frozen meals. I love having the microwave-in-bag veggie meals. I love having extremely easy access to a meal-sized portion of veggies.

I'm not much of a cook, honestly. Maybe if I had more help with dishes. Maybe if I had more time. Who knows. But I like eating good food--not just pizza rolls and Taco Bell. And I do like to bake. But I also procrastinate badly. I still want to make and freeze a toonnnnnnn of dried fruit and oatmeal cookies. I like oatmeal cookies. And honestly, I do appreciate raisins, which is why I bought golden raisins, cherries, and cranberries. I keep meaning to buy a carrot cake mix. I accidentally bought pineapple in syrup.

We're unfortunately at a financial standstill currently. I'm always a mess between the first and third check, even when the pay is consistent--which it so rarely ever is. Luckily, I'm pretty sure, with as little as I eat, that we have more than enough food, even if we have nothing to eat for a few days but like, rice and popcorn. Hah! I doubt we'll even get that low, depending on how bad I am with days and numbers.

0 notes