Wonder Egg Priority — Episode One Posters

He isn’t falling.

He’s rising.

NO ONE knows how to use thou/thee/thy/thine and i need to see that change if ur going to keep making “talking like a medieval peasant” jokes. /lh

They play the same roles as I/me/my/mine. In modern english, we use “you” for both the subject and the direct object/object of preposition/etc, so it’s difficult to compare “thou” to “you”.

So the trick is this: if you are trying to turn something Olde, first turn every “you” into first-person and then replace it like so:

“I” →  “thou”

“Me” →  “thee”

“My” →  “thy”

“Mine” →  “thine”

Let’s suppose we had the sentences “You have a cow. He gave it to you. It is your cow. The cow is yours”.

We could first imagine it in the first person-

“I have a cow. He gave it to me. It is my cow. The cow is mine”.

And then replace it-

“Thou hast a cow. He gave it to thee. It is thy cow. The cow is thine.”

upper rank six: daki and gyutaro + blood demon art

eight layered obi slash & flying blood sickles

THE PUNCH

In the midst of the intense battle against Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic, the atmosphere was tense and charged with magic. Spells were being cast left and right, and the air was thick with tension. Amidst it all, a young wizard named Glenn found himself feeling completely drained.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Glenn scratched his head with his wand, trying to shake off the weariness that had settled over him. Voldemort's voice droned on as he continued his speech, his words a twisted mix of arrogance and malevolence. Glenn couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation mingling with his exhaustion.

As Voldemort's speech reached its climax, the battle erupted into chaos. Spells collided, and the clash of magic filled the air. Glenn's mind was foggy from lack of sleep and hunger, and he felt a surge of frustration building within him.

Just as Voldemort raised his wand to cast a particularly powerful curse, Glenn's patience reached its breaking point. In a moment of boldness driven by irritation, he clenched his fist and swung it with all his might, connecting with Voldemort's face in a resounding punch.

The impact was unexpected and powerful, and Voldemort was knocked off balance. His wand fell from his hand as he stumbled backward, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. For a brief moment, the entire battlefield seemed to freeze as everyone stared in astonishment at what had just transpired.

Glenn stood there, his knuckles throbbing from the force of the punch, a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction on his face. He cracked his knuckles, wincing slightly at the pain. Then, without missing a beat, he looked up and noticed the wide-eyed stares and open mouths of those around him.

"Uh, yeah," Glenn muttered, shrugging his shoulders as if it was no big deal. "I mean, the guy was really getting on my nerves, and I just want to go home and take a nap."

His words were met with a mix of incredulous looks and amused chuckles from the other wizards and witches on the battlefield. Even Voldemort's loyal followers seemed taken aback by the unexpected turn of events.

Glenn's actions had managed to knock Voldemort unconscious, leaving the Dark Lord sprawled on the floor. The battlefield was still for a moment, and then, as if shaken from a trance, the battle resumed with renewed vigor.

With Voldemort temporarily incapacitated, the tide of the battle began to turn in favor of the defenders. Glenn's unexpected punch had provided a much-needed morale boost and a break in the tension. Spells were cast, and the battle raged on, but there was a renewed sense of determination in the air.

And in the midst of it all, Glenn stood, his hand still throbbing from the punch, a tired but satisfied smile on his face. Sometimes, a well-timed punch was all it took to change the course of history, even in the magical world.

i can't accept it

sam winchester × silent hill

song: poison tree

show: supernatural

software: capcut

Captain America: The First Avenger (Joe Johnston, 2011)

YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL

song: lust for life by lana del rey ft. the weeknd

show/film: the substance (2024)

software: capcut

{ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀɢᴜs ʙʀɪᴅᴇ}༺ ᴇᴘ●ғᴏᴜʀ

it's the stalker.

he was entranced.

by you.

the way your breasts moved freely under your shirt as you fumbled with your curtains after experiencing a brief moment of eye contact. It was heaven. he felt like he died ascended and descended all in a matter of seconds. he couldn't ask for more in the moment. seeing your irises widen then focus on his distant figure, in a split of fear.

but you.

you were alarmed. alarmed by the staring of a random man. you hastily undid your curtains and shut them as fast as you could. quickly your body took you to your door and make sure you locked it. you took a much needed breath but that didn't stop your chest from violently moving up and down. your heart pounding in your ears as you leaned against the door briefly before leaving to go back to what you were previously doing.

you thought that eye contact was bad. but it got worse. you didn't think when bags and bags of things kept showing up to your door. at first small packages that you mindlessly brought inside your home, then, undisguised bags of luxury items and items you wanted but wouldn't buy just as yet. you were warned not to open them but you couldn't help but peek.

and they were real. actual items in the bags and you had to check. something in you told you that this couldn't be real. but it surely was.

you still didn't open or wear a thing. it infuriated him. he didn't buy you these things for them to collect dust. but, besides this, he needs to see you. he's aching for you. so he does.

there you were obliviously window shopping because he knows you're too goddamn responsible to buy the things you want. he watched as you paced up and down the isle. analyzing the clothing and silently cursing to yourself when you check the tag. it made his chest rumble from a quiet chuckle. those leggings you wore hugged your body and infatuated your hips to give you a delicious figure.

oh

you bent over to pick up a shirt you knocked it off the hanger and he got the perfect view of your ass. the movement itself was quick and ridded with embarrassment from making something fall. but it still made his trousers annoyingly tight as he gazed at you.

he couldn't hold himself back anymore. he walked into the store. knowing exactly where you were as he walked in nonchalantly. he seemed confident to anyone around, but inside, he was just trembling. he was turning into where you clearly were but you were leaving at the same time, your shoulder nearly brushed against his as you pasted each other. he could feel the heat of your body past him and he could smell the sweet scent of vanilla coming off your person and he nearly rolled his eyes back.

you were too much for his own good.

and just like that you walked out the door like he was nobody. but he knew you felt it, felt that spark when you glided by one another. it was an electric surge and he couldn't rid it from his body. this lead him to pick up everything that caught your eye in the store and buy it.

he was an irresponsible child when it came to you and materialistic things, but he could care less. money comes and goes, he thought. and you are one in a lifetime for him.

he was nervous around you, popping up at places you least expected it and getting ignored by you only fueled his efforts. and he benefited from it. he talked to you.

he talked to you.

it was brief, like every other interaction you had, but it was an everlasting moment in his mind. you bumped into him this time. oh, how much joy he felt when your warm body clashed with his. it even took you a second longer to detach from him than it would a normal person. you were all over him and he knew it.

you politely said excuse me and stared into his eyes. he couldn't even blink, afraid he would miss a single moment in your presence. he imagined you looking back at him when you walked away and even fantasized that there was a smile on your face but who could even be so sure?

him?

not when he was laying down and imagining you were watching him, just as he was stalking watching you. one hand slithering under his boxers to palm himself while the other held his chest. right where you bumped into him. he contemplated never taking off the sweater, let alone washing it. but that had no space in his mind now. it was too busy thinking of you and your alluring scent.

stroking himself to you alone, he could imagine your warmth against him. your mouth, your tits and of course that hole. any one he wanted. because he knew what he meant to you. he was your prize, just as you were his. he had to work for you and you had to work for him. if that means he has to spend nights just aching and pleading for you, then so be it. he needs you. he needs you so bad it can kill him.

and when the time is right, he will come and see you.

he will break those pathetic petty locks of yours and enter your room. he will peel back those layers of sheets you use to cover that lovely body, and his fingers will run down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. he will hook his fingers on your skimpy underwear and pull them down to your ankles.

and he will fuck you.

some more stories

a/n: inspired by a dream and no. I cannot elaborate.