man it was hellish


Emmett is in many ways just like the big brother I’d always wanted… only much, much more terrifying.

  • Elias: I'm warning you about my sister man. She's hellish 😏
  • Also Elias: She's hellish but she likes you and I think that you feel the same way about her too. So let me tease you two for a lil bit. That's it ... Just the right amount and off we go.

anonymous asked:

Hey, I just listened to the Russian version of "Belle" and MAN that seems like such a self-fullfilling prophecy! Like roughly "I'm a man cursed to never be loved. I'm fated to forever suffer hellish suffering"(no joke, they used three different words for suffering in this line SO EXTRA). And of COURSE the chorus:"I'd sell my soul to the devil for a single night with you"...I know you said that this song for Viktor is just about Desire, but I cannot help but wonder and theorise XD Love your fic!

The Russian version of Belle is so good, I love it so much! 

do you like sarcasm? do you like assholes with an insatiable lust for vengeance? do you like corpses? you’re in luck: a university dropout named victor frankenstein compiled all of that, and more, into one man!! so if hellish monstrosities made from discarded bits of human flesh are your thing, allow me to present THE BEING, of mary shelley’s frankenstein, or the modern prometheus. he may look terrifying, but he’s mellow enough — he’s even a vegetarian. so, if you’d be interested in having an eight foot tall monster as your pal, give this a like or reblog

or, alternatively, just like or reblog to punch victor frankenstein in the face. he deserves it. 

anonymous asked:

19, 42, or 52 mary x matthew? I love your writing!

Five days in Matthew’s life stand out as the happiest he’s been.


His childhood is happy, idyllic even, but not once has he felt the all-consuming joy that has the capability to engulf him until the night of Sybil’s ball.

Mary doesn’t accept his proposal that night, which is slightly disappointing, but he rationalizes that she doesn’t want to steal her little sister’s thunder. Other than that, the night is perfect.

He dances with her seven times; he would dance every single time with her were it not improper. Each time, he holds her closer and closer, breathing in the soft scent of her perfume and enjoying her beautiful voice so close to his ear.

He doesn’t want any of their dances to end. They laugh and joke between themselves as they dance, their senses of humor the same, sharing smiles that no one else would understand.

He realizes, on about the fourth dance, that he truly loves her. Before, maybe in the back of his mind was a tiny fear that his feelings for her were simply fading lust, not true love; for all of Matthew’s practicality, he is still a romantic at heart and that idea fills him with fear.

But it doesn’t take more than a sarcastic remark, a slight dip of the head, and a soft ladylike giggle to push him through to the realization that has been building for months now.

He loves her. He could live the rest of his life with this woman and be perfectly, utterly happy. He loves her.

And by the seventh dance, he has worked up enough courage to say it.

As they hold each other probably closer than is proper, he whispers in her ear, “I love you.”

Mary doesn’t respond in kind, but she does take him into a quiet hallway outside the ballroom while the dance is still going and kiss him passionately in response.

He is reasonably convinced she loves him too.

It is this that builds up true euphoria in Matthew. He is happier than he has ever been.


It takes years for Matthew to experience that sort of joy again.

He supposes a heartbreaking rejection and then four years of a hellish war could do that to a man.

But after his injury, he believes that joy will never be a part of his life again. Joy is for the young, he thinks, ignoring the fact that he isn’t that old himself. He feels old, cursed with paralysis and a head full of demons, and he consigns himself to a dark, miserable life, with no way out but death.

And then he stands.

For a few minutes after Lavinia helps him sit back down, he doesn’t believe it. He must be dreaming, it must have been a fluke, it was all part of his imagination… anything to wall his heart off from the danger of hope.

But hope is blooming anyway.

And this time it is warranted. It becomes joy.

He is dazed, everything around him feeling unreal, as he realizes what this means for his life. And as Clarkson explains the mistake and his new prognosis, Matthew feels himself break out into a grin. He is lucky, so lucky, and his life no longer looks so bleak. This is the best news that he could possibly be told, and he can only remember being as happy that day he assured himself of Mary’s love.

Although that happiness faded soon after, when she turned him down….

He puts that idea out of his mind and finds himself later that evening sitting next to Mary in the drawing room, after announcing his engagement to Lavinia. The thrill of that, however, is almost secondary to the thrill of regaining use of his legs.

“I’m so happy for you,” Mary says, softly, sincerely. “I know everyone is saying it, but I hope you understand how happy I am.”

He grins at her. He is exhausted of grinning, frankly, but he cannot stop. “Considering… all you’ve done for me, I think I understand.”

Perhaps this euphoria is not caused by Mary, but she is there. She is a part of it.

She is in the back of his mind, but she has been such a support through this, and he is so grateful she shares in his joy.


Matthew doesn’t wake up the day of the servant’s ball expecting it to be one of the happiest days of his life. In fact, he doesn’t expect there to be a servant’s ball at all, considering Bates is on death row.

But here he is, in the library, drinking whiskey to fortify himself for the ordeal that he expects the servant’s ball to be.

He dances with the requisite staff, unable to forget the last time he danced in the great hall, where he committed the greatest betrayal of his life, where he last felt Mary’s lips on his, where he last so much as touched her hand.

He spots her across the room right before another dance starts, waiting quietly and looking as beautiful as ever. He walks up behind her and tries to appear casual as he murmurs, “How about it?” Inside, his heart is beating a mile a minute.

She agrees and they dance, and it is much more formal than it was before, and he can’t lean on her for support like he did before. But even this is infinitely better than the separation between them that has plagued the last months.

Later that night, he joins her on the patio as she observes the falling snow.

He’s certain his heart is visibly beating out of his chest but he stays calm next to her and he manages to get out a proposal that’s romantic enough for Lady Mary’s standards and suddenly… they’re engaged.

He wasn’t planning this for tonight, but he is just so overwhelmed by his love for her that the question comes out of his mouth almost before he can catch it.

But to his surprise, she accepts, and he spins her around, giggling, still in shock.

Finally, he puts her down, still touching her face and holding her close to him.

“I love you,” he whispers.

This time, she responds, “I love you too.”


Matthew’s wedding day he absolutely expects to be one of the best days of his life.

He manages to be right.

Nothing goes wrong at the wedding, or if it does, he never notices it. To be fair, he is a little bit distracted by his beautiful bride.

He spends the whole day utterly enamored. No words could describe the euphoria he feels every time he looks at Mary in her elegant white dress, every time he looks at his wife. His wife! Those two words manage to fill him with more joy than he thought possible for two words to do.

Everything is absolutely perfect, and he dances with his bride seven times, hardly letting her go. Every dance, he whispers, “I love you” into her ear and every dance she responds in kind.

They wind up in an elegant hotel in London en route to France for their wedding night, but Matthew hardly notices. He couldn’t have cared less whether their bed was fit for a king or for a scullery maid, because his wife was in it, and they had just given each other physical joy, and everything was perfect.

He thinks about the other happy days in his life, but they simply pale in comparison to this.

“Have you ever been so happy?” he asks her, as they cuddle in bliss.

Mary presses her lips together to think about it, but she doesn’t have to think very long before responding with an emphatic “No.”


Matthew isn’t expecting the birth of his child to come for another month, and really, the day has been so full of anxiety that he believes he’ll be too exhausted for joy. He is such an idiot to let Mary come down alone, he thinks, as he rushes into the hospital.

But the idea of being too exhausted for joy completely flees his mind when he opens up the door to Mary’s room and sees her sitting up in bed holding a bundle in her arms.

“Come meet your son and heir,” she says, holding out the little baby to him.

He is so overcome he cannot speak. A boy! A perfectly healthy, perfectly beautiful baby boy! He really would not have cared whether it was a boy or girl, but he imagines the delight of the family. But for him, to hold this little child in his arms, that is the miracle.

“Papa will be dancing a jig,” Mary says, in a blasé tone, although her smile gives her away.

“I’m dancing a jig!” Matthew exclaims, almost close to tears. There is so much joy within him now.

He, for a time, thought this child was impossible. But he has a son, a perfect little boy, with Mary Crawley, the love of his life.

What could be better?

“I fall more in love with you every day,” he says hoarsely, tearing his eyes away from the baby to look at his beautiful wife.

He means it, too. He thinks back on all the joyful days of his life, but this is the best. And something in his heart tells him there will be more days just as joyful.

Oh, How We’ve Grown (3/4)

Title: Oh, How We’ve Grown
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Rating: General Audiences
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings: swearing, feels?
Spoilers: None

Apparently ten hours of sleep and waking up to freaking 400 notes does a lot to restore you from severe fatigue. You guys are being so kind, and I appreciate all the kind words you throw my way. So much so that and I may or may not have screenshotted some of your feedback to look at on a bad day. Only one chapter left after this one, I’m sort of nervous. As always, if you want in on the tag list, send me an ask. Do not ask in reblogs and replies because they tend to disappear in the notes, and I’d feel bad if I missed someone.

| chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 |

Originally posted by electric-hearts-war


We found weekend jobs, when we got paid
We’d buy cheap spirits and drink them straight
Me and my friends have not thrown up in so long

”Domino’s, may I take your order?”

So it’s not the most glamorous job in the world. It’s the worst. It’s slaving for minimum wage in Satan’s sweaty armpit while hoards of rude customers chip away at your faith in humanity. You keep repeating that it’s only for another couple of months more, that you need the money, that it’s a good experience. You roll your eyes when the line crackles as the customer hushes violently into the receiver.

”Shh! Shut up, Steve, I'mma order!”

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Arsonist's Lullaby- Daryl Dixon

Plot/Request: @jonsnowisthesexiestbastard requested a song fic based off of “Arsonist’s Lullaby” by Hozier. You and Daryl are married. When you’re captured with Rick and the group by Negan, things get a little intense.

Listen to “Arsonist’s Lullaby” by Hozier here!

Word count:

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of character death

 this was one of my first requests and i wanted it to be perfectttttt :) hopefully everyone enjoys!!!


A husband is considered a male partner in a marriage. But not for you, you considered a husband more than that. A husband was your best friend. Someone you could rely on. He was Daryl.

Your best friend, the man that had stuck by your side throughout this hellish world. The one person you truly counted on.

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I was adopted and my dad’s a dick monthly meetup

“-turns me into a cyborg, and calls Gamora his favourite daughter right in front of me!”

“Yeah? First Odin starts a war with a race he graciously failed to mention I was a part of, then banishes me when I try to finish it! Have you ever been to Earth? It’s hellish!”

As requested by just-tinabow-man :3

Hoya (Infinite) - Saying ‘I Love You’ Is the Hardest Thing to Do

Scene: When you say I love you and he doesn’t respond and you have to accept that just because he doesn’t say it, doesn’t mean he doesn’t mean it

I just imagine Hoya having  hard time to say “I love you” because he knows the weight of the words (like a true man). He even said it himself~! Just thinking of him trying to be all lovey is adorable! But when he does say it, you know it really comes from his heart. Enjoy!

“I love you.” You’re casually watching him from the bedroom when your boyfriend freezes in the middle of buttoning his shirt. It’s just for a second before he quickly recomposes himself and hurriedly finishes dressing for a busy schedule. Everything about his body language screams uncomfortable but he’s doing his best not to worry you.

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anonymous asked:

Can you imagine if Spacey runs for president and wins in real life?

Really, I can’t imagine Kevin running for President in real life. Ever. He’s an actor, and a man who values his privacy. Living under that kind of microscope would be hellish. Even egomaniac Trump wants his old life back ;) 

“Unbridled”- A Be My Princess Fanfiction featuring Prince Edward Levaincois

Warning!  Smexy times ahead with Ed!

Rated “M” for Mature

It was a lovely day for a ride.

The wind that whipped through your hair as you galloped through the trees atop your palomino mare Mariposa was sweet and invigorating, but did little to cool down the temperature of your overheated body.  True, the mid-day summer sun that beamed overhead was cause enough to make you sweat, not to mention the layers of formal riding clothes you had to don as befitting the future princess of Charles Kingdom.  Indeed, the exertion involved in staying atop your energetic equine alone could rival any cardio workout, and you wished you could blame that, as well as a thousand other causes for your sweltering skin, ragged breath, and flushed cheeks that inflamed your agitated form. Instead, the true cause of the heat that threatened to consume you was the innocently oblivious male riding alongside of you.

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anonymous asked:

A glitch just happened to me: I work at a coffee shop and a customer asked for a black coffee. He watched me pour the coffee and he walked away, sat down and took a sip of his coffee, and walked back up. Somewhere in between him walking from to counter to his seat, cream got in his coffee. We both watched me make the coffee and were extremely confused. Luckily the second coffee worked properly.

Man that’s one hellish glitch. It seems like it shouldn’t be but I know for a fact that if you like your coffee one way and it turns out to not be that way, it’s like the world is ending. At least he saw it was a glitch, though, because there’s nothing worse than dealing with someone who got the wrong coffee.

Speaking of coffee glitches, I have a good one. I’d finished a coffee and I was already thinking about getting another, but the hall outside my room and the kitchen was freezing and I didn’t want to go so I was putting it off. Eventually I decided to do it and reached for my cup, only to find it was full. The coffee was hot, too, like still too hot to drink, meaning it couldn’t have been my earlier coffee that I hadn’t finished yet (about 45 minutes had passed since I remembered finishing it). That was a cool glitch.