I-cannot

anonymous asked:

Victor made Yuuri sugarfree cake for his bday. Victor tried to feed him a cake so he can be a sweet boyfriend, but when Yuuri closed his eyes and said "aah" Victor kissed him instead and made him blush. Victor thought at the moment that he was the best fiance ever but Yuuri beat him by saying "I thought you said this cake was sugar free, how come it tastes so sweet?" Victor accepted then and there that he probably can never beat Yuuri as the best fiance ever :))

OH MY GOD THIS IS TOO SWEET 

i can definitely see phil as a film director who is kind and supportive to all his staff and his films would be beautiful, unique, and iconic…and every time he won an award he’d say “oh yes i would like to thank my wonderful husband first for being there for me through all of this” while smiling at dan from the stage and dan would be all blushy and grinning from ear to ear and now i cannot breathe

the dear evan hansen fandom must be made aware of this adorable photo ft. cuddly ben platt and amused mike faist with black nail polish, that is all thank you for your time 

the worst type of panic attack is the one that starts with an “off feeling” and continues growing for hours, if not days, giving you no breaks, no pauses. a silent scream inside your head that keeps getting louder without stopping to breathe in even once. your body twisting and shaking, nails digging into the skin in a laughable attempt to scrape out the insects crawling underneath. knowing very well that your brain has made the insects up, but cutting yourself open anyway. it lasts, and lasts, and as it grows, it makes you kick and scream, and suffocates you with a rope woven from twitches, trembles and intrusive thoughts. it’s chronic pain, it doesn’t go away; you’re bleeding already but there is so much more for it to take from you… you lose your consciousness from exhaustion but seconds later you wake up into the same torture chamber made out of your own flesh. no closure. no sleep. no numbness. no blackout. it lasts. it lasts. it lasts - until your heart gives up at last.

2

Do Not Go Gentle - coming June 2nd for the @1dbigbang!

“Fine,” Harry says, pulling Louis by the wrist into the nearest empty on-call room. They stand between the bunk beds, hands on hips. “You want to know why I get so mad at you? Because you treat me like you’re so much better than me, like you don’t care about my opinions, like you know automatically you’re better than me. You fuck me, and then the next day you act like you want nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t-”

“And then you show up late for work, when you know that we had to be early so we could take care of that patient. And you have the nerve to tell me that I don’t care about my job! What the fuck?”

“I was late,” Louis interrupts, his voice rising in tone, “because I was on the phone with my mom. Because I was telling her about this patient and how it was giving me terrible flashbacks to her twin pregnancy, and how-”

“You were late because you were talking to your mom?” Harry says, throwing his hands in the air. “Oh, great. That’s just great. Way to take the job seriously.”

Louis scoffs, and just the sound of it makes Harry’s blood boil. “Oh, let’s talk about taking the job seriously, shall we? You’re the one wearing stupid masks and pulling out kids toys and trying to steal my surgeries.”

“I do not steal your surgeries!”

“You do! And you treat kids like they’re on a playground! This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real, life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

There’s a moment where they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood pumping between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him. And then all he feels, suddenly and oppressively and desperately, is lust.

He doesn’t know who moves first, but he knows that suddenly Louis is surging up to him and Harry’s walking the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock - oh - lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

(gifs)