wouldn't if i could

anonymous asked:

Bad boy Jason flirting with nerd Chris but Chris is oblivious ~🌸

If Chris was doing anything else, maybe he would have questioned why Jason Parker was talking to a social purchase like him; he’d been working on his end of semester art project for about half an hour now when resident delinquent Parker had sidled up beside him with a jaunty comment about how Chris handles his paintbrush that he barely even heard over his intently he was concentrating. ‘It has to be perfect.’ Was the only thought in his mind, and so he waved a dismissive hand at the confused other boy.

After about ten more minutes of intense paint mixing, he heard Jason say…. something. To be honest, Chris would normally be thrilled to be the centre of Jason’s attention, but when he was in art class his work took priority over his dumb crush. “Sorry, what was that?” He said absently, focusing on which paint brush to pick. “I said, you art looks okay but I think you’re more of a masterpiece.” Jason repeated, tossing a wink Chris’s way.

“Mmh. Okay isn’t good enough, where’s it just ‘okay’?” He mused out loud, scooting back in his chair and eyeing the painting critically; Jason was right, something was off somewhere but Chris just couldn’t put his paint stained finger on it. Beside him, he heard Jason let out a disgruntled noise of frustration and rest his head face down on the desk. “If you have a headache I have Tylenol in my bag.” Chris mentioned distractedly and shut an eye, barely hearing Jason’s somewhat hopeful but mostly resigned comment about Chris 'helping with a different kind of ache’.

Suddenly, it clicked. Chris let out a loud whoop and practically threw himself forward, almost knocking a jar of paint onto Jason’s leather jacket. “There it is!” He cheered and pushed his glasses up on his nose, settling about repainting that stupid little section that was clashing with the rest of the painting and seemed to make his eyes ache. “You’re a genius, Parker!” Chris turned and beamed at Jason, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I mean- I’m not- It’s-” He stammered, Chris once again back to barely noticing his reeling classmate as he continued painting happily.

Killua needs more hugs!!

ok but consider: cheerleader Neil Josten


- so we all know neil’s mom said he couldn’t play exy

- you know what the next best thing to playing exy is

- obsessively watching exy and cheering for it

- his mom didn’t really mind (well, he did at first, but neil somehow convinced her it wasn’t terrible) as long as he didn’t get attached to a squad and shit

- boy picked up so much skill from local cheer gyms everywhere

- he trained sO HARD (like half because if he was better they put him closer to the game so he had a better view)

- his tumbling passes were legendary. with his speed he could do the craziest shit like so many back handsprings. a back tuck. crazy twists and everything.

- even though he’s a guy he’s still soooo short

- at one point his coach decided to make him a f l y e r - like this little 5"3 muscular ass boy getting tossed like 20 feet in the air by these peppy girls in short skirts - just imagine

- he kept going until sometime before his mom died, when he realized he might have put a bit too much effort into the sport. people don’t see boy flyers and pass it off, and one of his teams almost made it big. almost- neil’s mom made him mess up their last routine and they left shortly after crippling the squad’s chances at nationals

- neil never really cheered again after his mom died, but he sometimes watched the vixens’ routines, mentally noting their strengths and weaknesses and what they could do with them, but he never said anything because he only knew katelyn and… it’s katelyn

- no one knows about his cheer days. not even andrew. uNTIL

- one day neil is out running and hey look up ahead near the exy stadium it’s the vixens holding practice

- he’s totally just gonna go right by them because exy but then he hears some shouting

- as he gets closer he sees some guys trying to talk to the vixens. from the look of their body language and the girls’ tense stances, it’s not going well

- neil gets closer and hears some very rude and derogatory things being said

- he promptly tells them to fuck off, may have added a threat or two. the guys bail.

- the vixens tell him they had it covered but thanks anyway, and one is like “hey, you wanna have a real practice today?” like totally joking

- neil’s brain is like fuck it

-  “yeah sure can you guys fly me in a basket double twist”

- who are you and what have you done with our starting striker

- neil just basically joins their practice

- katelyn’s reaction was priceless

- not as priceless as andrew’s expression when he sees his boyfriend being thrown into the air by a bunch of cheerleaders on the way to practice


high school !!!!!


Day 5: Last Match

This week would not be complete without some angst~ ( u w u ) Takes place after Fukurodani loses their final game of the season.

(Disclaimer: I have not read / am not currently reading the manga.)


That moment when Moriarty licks the dust that is mostly Sherlock’s skin and insinuates he wants the taste of fresh skin instead. In which he also says “doesn’t taste the same”, like he HAD in fact tasted the fresh skin before. That very glorious moment you realize, with extreme pleasure and equal part disappointment, that this is all playing out in Shelock’s head.

Bonus: (gif4) Sherlock inhaling deep with an almost unnoticeable gasp, like he was feeling that tongue on his skin. Could’ve even felt it at a subconscious level and probably there had been an actual physical reaction to all of this. ‘Cause this was one hell of a wet dream.


#is this not love tho?
#are these not similar situations? #broadly speaking that is

“Quickly men! Into formation!”

“Sir, what purpose does this formation serve? None of us is aiming with even a remote chance of hitting any possible enemies and we’re in serious danger of starting a forest fire.”

“Shut up Steve. It looks awesome.”

(Photo by @nicolasbruno on Instagram)