Air fryer is such a good machine. I love my air fryer. I could kiss my air fryer . I might kms if they ever do investigative journalism into the origins of air fryer and it turns out they’re made out of asbestos or something . Sometimes I make a delicious meal in my air fryer and then I do an iron man face and say ‘heh . I clearly own an air fryer’
16 notes
·
View notes
Scenario where Morgott and the Tarnished are both Elden Lord.
We'll say that Roderika and Hewg survived and are living quite happily in the capital. Boggart's head of the kitches. Boc's the royal seamster, etc.
Even though Hewg is free from the curse placed upon him, he still insists on hammering away. It's just that far ingrained into his soul by that point; he feels like he'd be nothing if he stopped.
However... He starts showing some sign of slowing down. The exhaustion is evident. Arms trembling. And the Tarnished is growing more and more concerned.
But it's Morgott that approaches the Misbegotten blacksmith, telling him to stop.
Hewg takes the moment to pause, turning to look up at Morgott and asking if it's a command.
"Nay, t'is no command... Merely a request... T'is thy own choice, however, should thou decide to follow."
There was a pause as the Misbegotten considers the Omen King's words... During that time, the two of them had found a certain sense of kinship in one another; a sense of relation in their ceaseless devotion.
For the first time in his life, Hewg sets down his blacksmith's hammer, now truly feeling the ache in his bones from his endless work. But...
Having the will to actually set the hammer down brings the old Misbegotten a sense of IMMENSE relief... JUST to be able to take a break from smithing.
"... Is this how it felt, seeing those thorns parted at long last, and the way to the Elden Ring open after all these years?"
"... Aye."
36 notes
·
View notes
oh god I got a picture of the moon you tumblr bitches are gonna LOVE
95K notes
·
View notes
i was cuddling with my boyfriend last night when his shoulder started tensing up (like he was readjusting or gently pushing me off) and when i asked him if he was okay or needed me to move or something he went “no you’re fine, i was just imagining myself pulling a large rope. i didn’t even realize my shoulder was doing that lmao” then refused to elaborate and i have never been as attracted to him as i was in that moment.
25K notes
·
View notes
Head empty. Just thoughts of Margit sneaking away and meeting up with one of his nights calvary in an abandoned old shack where they embrace by the light of a glowstone. Resting his massive head on their lap as they play with his hair. Kissing them tenderly. Holding them tight as he makes love to them cause he could never be brave enough to say it aloud. The warmth in their eyes, their reverent words, the way they grip onto his fingers and ride him into the night, swearing their loyalty to him alone. How greedy Margit feels, knowing he should admonish them for it, but basking in the praise, even if just for a night, commanding them to say it again and again who they yield to, Bow to and on a fatal slip, who they love.
Before Margit can backtrack, the knight mewls that it is him, it is Margit the Fell they are loyal to, whom they bow to, yield to. It is Margit the Fell they love. It break him. Greedy, hungry, lonely man that he is, Margot claims them. Marks them, makes love to them will all the desperation he has held back. Holding on to them as they hold him. Till morning comes and neither wish to rise for anything less than eachother
30 notes
·
View notes