more like rip my heart out

listen, there won’t ever be a pair of wrestlers that just… click and work together like dean and seth, they’re literally two lost puzzle pieces, wrestling soulmates… they never even touched before their first match and when they did it was fucking magic… and every next match of theirs is even more beautiful. i just love their chemistry so much, they could wrestle each other everyday and i would never get tired of watching them

anonymous asked:

Okay, that 10 minutes left ask ripped my heart out, stomped on it, threw it in a blender, then stomped on it some more... Can you do, like, an Azusa birthday scenario please? Something cheerful? Please please please?

((Did you say something more depressing?))

Azusa stared at the breakfast plate before him as Yuma and Kou fought over pancakes across the table. Ruki brought out more, scolding them for acting like beasts at the table before he went to go back to eating from his own plate. 

It seemed as though everyone was ignoring him on purpose, and he was too embarrassed to mention that today was his birthday. The one he was looking forward to. The one where Ruki promised they would all go out to eat and play in the park together and let Azusa get whatever ice cream he wanted… But.. Azusa supposed things were busy. Ruki had to take care of everyone, Kou had work, Yuma was stressed over the garden and lack of rain…

Excusing himself quietly, Azusa headed up to his room and locked the door behind him. He slowly unraveled his bandages and greeted his old friends. 

“Justin… Melissa.. You didn’t forget… did you?” He asked as he raised his knife to his arm.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Kurt's s/o jumping in front of him during battle to save him from a fatal hit and in the process the s/o is wounded but luckily survives but has a scar from the hit and Kurt notices it and can't help but feel guilty so he makes a point to kiss the scar whenever he can (whether it's during more intimate moments or just casually) and every time he kisses the scar it's like him saying, "I love you so much and I can never fully express to you how happy I am that you're still here with me."


Originally posted by begavet

Anime: Kuroko no Basuke
Pairing: Kasamatsu Yukio x Reader
Rating: T (To be safe)
A/N: Uhh… I’m probably going to hell for this.. But I’m sorry in advance.. it killed me more to write this than for you to read it.. Maybe.. We’ll see.. I guess.. enjoy me ripping your heart out.. 

“Happy birthday daddy!”

You give a soft grin, watching as he holds the cake in his hands, steel-blue hues shining with happiness. He was only seven years old, yet he already looked exactly like him. Raven hair, thick eyebrows, even the scowl when he was concentrating or irritated..

He was the spitting image.

You help him place the cake on the small table, holding onto his hand in yours, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Lighting the candles, blue and white just like Kaijou, you watched as the trees swayed in the soft breeze, the sun’s rays hot on your skin, yet no warmth was received.

It was… nothing.

Swallowing, you bit the inside of your lip, giving your little son a soft smile, even though it was forced, fake.. You then ruffled his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as you pulled him in your lap.

“Mom…?” you hummed, looking down at him, flinching when he frowns, just like him.

“Would dad be proud of me?”

Your breath hitched, eyes almost watering and you almost, almost, broke down right there when he asked that. Would he? Of course. He’s the one who wanted to have children.. He actually wanted to have four.. Two boys and two girls.. But.. he was only able to have one..

And not even for long.

You nodded, holding him tightly as you released a sigh,

“Of course he would. You’re his son.. Yu-chan.”

And then, he grinned brightly, teeth showing and steel-blue hues shining, blinding you and robbing you of all breath. He then laughs lightly, looking back at the cake.

“I’m glad. I’ll make sure dad is proud of me.. And I’ll always take care of you, mom! It’s my duty as a man!”

You looked at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, yet you rubbed your nose against his forehead, inhaling his scent, again reminded you of him.. Why is everything reminding you of him? You didn’t want your son to know you’d always see his dad within him. You wanted him to know he was himself.. not the person who left their lives too early.

Shaking your head, you looked at the stone, chest clenched with a heartbreaking pain. You almost forgot to breathe until his voice cut through, and you were brought back to reality.

“Time to blow out the candles, dad!”

You felt your eyes flicker to the cake, wind wrapping around your cheek,kissing your skin, before you saw the candles blow out, and unfortunately, the cake went with it. You managed to save what you could, but felt your breath hitch when it hit the picture on the stone, covering faces of the past.

Taking this as your sign to leave, you placed the small bouquet of flowers on the ground, arranging them neatly, including the small drawing your son made for him. Looking at it one last time, you pressed a gentle kiss to the cool stone, a couple tears slipping down your cheeks.

Your eyes drifted to the picture now on the ground, bending down to wipe the cake off the frame. You traced his face, taking in every inch of detail possible with your eyes and finger. The tiny version of him being held in your arms, yet you’d never looked happier.. he never looked happier. Your son looked between both the picture and you, his eyes softening considerably as he wedged between you and the frame, hugging your waist tightly, hair tickling your skin.

He then wiped your cheek of the tears sliding down your cheeks, replacing his finger with his lips, and for a moment, it felt like he was kissing your tears away. Pulling him into a tight hug, you buried your face in his hair, holding him close to your chest, softly weeping until there was nothing left. 

Not once had he asked questions or left your side.

When there was no more left to shed, you straightened up, placing the photo down to grab him in your arms, kissing his cheek. The two of you focused back on the scenery, drifting up to the sky, now a shade of light blue. Both of your lips curled up into a smile, looking at each other with those cheek grins, before a soft whisper left your lips.

“Happy birthday, Yukio..”

welcome to the cemetery for unlonely souls

i am made of graveyards.
i am the girl with the gun
pointed into your chest
from against my flesh
i will hurt you
i will rip out your heart and i will take it home with me
veins stuck to my shoes
not like i meant to do
home is where the heart is
and they never said whose.
or where.
or that someone will be left bleeding onto the concrete
of their own bed at night
or into the lips
of someone more graceful
than i.

i am a graveyard,
a girl with a gun
of a secret.
no matter how often i shoot at the sky
desperate to unload the barrel
the bullets have to come down somewhere
and there is always a store
selling more bullets.

i am the graveyard.
i am the scraped out bowl of cake mix un
i am the tube of toothpaste on its last
i am the girl with the gun
grease on my lips
metal in my blood cells
and a fence across my hips.
i am a ghost girl
i am the fog you get lost in
droplets clinging to your hair and your eyelashes and your cheeks and your mouth and your abs and your hips and your thighs
and your eyelids
the rain that tried so hard to fall
but just
got stuck
it tried to become what the forest wanted it to be.

i am the marble white angel standing in the center of the stones
i look right in the right light
you see me from afar and you think i am alive
i am magical
i am winged
i am angel
but that is how you know
you will see by my feathers frozen in to place, that i am too “good” to be
my maker carved me from his left rib bones
into a work of art
a rendition of
what i was always meant to be.

i am halloween night,
i am the snowflakes on your tongue,
i am the blue jay feathers you find on the crosswalk.
i am a missed first date and i am your heart
i am the broken guitar string
and i am the damaged film
of your favorite day-
i am your memory
disintegrating and distorting into something
saturated dripping
in everything you didnt want to mention
for fear of dying
every sock you lost the match to.

i am your gravestone
and i am made of guns.
i am the pen running out of ink.
i am the stories,
the poems,
the letters you wrote
and never sent
but always wanted to.
i was here. and unearthed
i will open my eyes
and i
will begin to breathe again…
the feather winged girl
pure in my own skin
hands offered upwards
and in return for your heart
dragged through your streets and my
sheets i
will give you my own


anonymous asked:

I know BokuAka isn't a rarepair but I just need to scream a bit about this fic I'm reading it's so sad Akaashi has anxiety and it goes into a lot of detail about his thought processes and it feels like my heart is being riPPED OUT OF MY CHEST. AND THEN MY PHONE DECIDES TO HURT ME EVEN MORE AND PLAYS LOVE ME AGAIN. IM IN RUINS. SOS.

Well, it might not be a rarepair, but it’s a universal feeling, friend. We’ve all been ruined by ships and evil fic authors.

  • Random Person:"It's obvious why they're releasing so much Final Fantasy XV content before it releases..."
  • Me,about to respond:"Yeah! They want us to be emotionally attached to all of the characters straight into the game instead of us slowly loving them more and more so that when they kill someone (considering all FF games are tragedies) it will rip our collective hearts out instead of just being a "aw. but i liked having them in the party! :/" reaction. I for one already freaking loves these guys.
  • Random Person, continuing:"'s going to be the Lightning Saga all over again! Shit story telling, Shit characters, plot that just goes crazy until even the people who liked it hate it"
  • Me:"What? No i-!"
  • Random Person:"FFXV is going to be garbage and I'm not wasting my money on it"
  • Me:"..."

anonymous asked:

“I really need you.” Anakin+Padme; Because I feel like ripping my heart out.

“I really need you, Padmé,” Anakin whispers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  They’re relaxing together in bed, the artificial sun just starting to appear over the skyline.  It’s so rare that they have the chance to stay like this, but it makes it all the more precious.  He presses a kiss to her bare shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist.

She turns to smile up at him, sighing softly.  “You’d be okay,” she says, and he swallows hard, the shift in the blue of his eyes telling him all she needs to know about what brought this on.  “The nightmares again?”  She doesn’t know how to help, and it breaks her heart to see him so frightened.

He nods, and she reaches up, brushing a hand over his cheek.  “I just-  I’m afraid I’m going to lose you.  I see you dying, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”  His voice shakes as he confesses it, and he closes his eyes as if he’s afraid to look at her.

“Ani.  I’m okay.  Nothing is going to hurt me.”  She turns his head up to look into his eyes.  “You’ll keep me safe, I know you will.”  

He lets out a slow breath, slowly relaxing as her fingers brush through his hair.  It takes a moment, but he finally nods.  “I will.  They’re just bad dreams, right?  They can’t hurt anything.”  He smiles and tugs her close, giving her a soft kiss, the sunrise finally chasing away the shadows from his face as they leave the nightmares behind in the darkness.

People that can hurt you, the ones that can really hurt you, are the ones that are close enough to do it. People that get inside you and tear you apart, and make you feel like you’re never gonna recover. Shit. I’d chop my arm off right here, in this restaurant, just to feel that one more time for my wife. My old lady, she didn’t just break my heart. She’d rip it out, she’d tear it apart, she’d step on that shit, feed it to a dog. She was ruthless. She brought the pain. But she’ll never hurt me again. You see, I’ll never feel that. You sit here and you’re all confused about this thing, but you have it. You have everything. So hold on to it. Use two hands and never let go. You got it?
—  Frank Castle, “Daredevil: .380 (#2.11)” (2016)
IBD and Mental Health

I am bringing this topic up because it is extremely relevant in my life right at this moment. I have noticed a significant decline in the status of my mental health. This is the time of the year that the sun is out and my mood is supposed to be lifted. It is becoming increasingly more challenging for me to thrown on a smile every single day when I know I am living a lie. I feel like we have this drive within ourselves to keep trying to remain as strong as possible. I feel like my heart has been ripped out at the seams. I know I am far more equipped to handle the physical pain of the disease versus the emotional pain. I feel like emotional pain lingers and is much harder to beat.

I am here to say that yes I have found myself crying every night. I feel like throughout my experience with inflammatory bowel disease I have periods of intense sadness that come and go. I find other ways in my life to really make me smile instead of just throwing it on just to please everyone around me. IBD gives us depression and anxiety. It really takes a toll on us emotionally. I cry on my worst days and I wonder at what point will I be okay. I feel like I have not openly acknowledged this side of myself to anyone and I feel like brushing it under the rug has done me the most damage. I have learned with IBD that with physical pain comes emotional pain. We as IBDers have to learn how to manage them when they are occurring together. <3 Wade

P.S. What challenges have you faced in regards to your mental health as a result or in relation to your disease? 

anonymous asked:

can i just ask if i'm the only one who totally cried during the season 11 finale? "let's go be with the gang" more like rip my fucking heart out

Informal survey time, everyone.