i don't know how to tag this ; a ;

Listen I’m bi as Heck and as much as I love girls, I also love boys? Boys are amazing and pure and liking boys is a wonderful feeling? I never see a lot of posts talking about cute boys so

Some Boy Aesthetics™ I’m in love with include:

Their tired grins? Have you seen a cute boy grin when he’s tired? Life Changing

Sleeves rolled up to forearms is all good and Well but also when they have Sweater Paws in their hoodies or jumpers? Makes the tallest of them seem so smol? I’m lov?

When they run their hand through their hair and it sticks up in places and it looks So Good

Collar Bones

Soft pudgy stomachs they absolutely make me melt

When ya boy gets flustered A++ Bonus points if he giggles Boys giggling is Everything

Honestly one of the most realistic things about Wonder Woman was when Diana was trying to convince the amazons to save the humans and end the war she said excuse me to Hipolytta when she interrupted and “forgive me, senator” like only between women would a conversation like this be so polite

Emergencies

There are things you learn from being Viktor Nikiforov’s coach, things that no other student will teach you.

“This is an emergency!” A sixteen-year-old Viktor screeches into his ear when Yakov picks up the phone.

“Vitya,” Yakov says, old heart speeding up. “Vitya, are you okay? Was there an accident? Who died?”

“An accident, this is a disaster, Yakov! I told them exactly what to do with my program outfit and they didn’t listen. They screwed up the lace, Yakov, don’t they understand what that’s supposed to represent–”

“Vitya,” Yakov says, “It is 3am in the morning. I am going back to bed.”

By the time Viktor is nineteen, Yakov is an expert in handling Viktor Nikiforov’s “emergencies.” Emergencies that, somehow, he believes only his coach capable of handling.

“Help, it’s an emergency,” Viktor whispers into the phone at eighteen. “Stephane Lambiel is so hot, Yakov, and his program this year–”

Yakov. Is. Done. When Viktor bursts into the rink at twenty, tears glistening in his beautiful blue eyes, dragging a hundred pound Makkachin with him, Yakov does not even blink. “YAKOV IT’S AN EMERGENCY, SHE IS BLEEDING YAKOV–”

“You clipped her nails too short, you fool, we’ll wrap it up and she’ll be fine.”

When Viktor Nikiforov is twenty-four, has two perfect seasons under his belt, the emergencies slow. Yakov does not miss them. He assumes his skater is finally growing up.

When Viktor Nikiforov is twenty-six, Yakov finds him sleeping on a rink bench. When he’s not skating he stares off, almost blank. When Viktor Nikiforov is twenty-six Yakov swings by his apartment to drop off his skating bag because he forgot it at the rink, again, and he finds Viktor crying, sitting straight up on his couch, TV off. When he talks to him, he realizes Viktor wasn’t even aware of the tears.

“Viktor,” he says, as gently as his face and voice can allow, “is this an emergency? How can I help you?”

“It’s fine,” Viktor says. “I’m fine.”

So often, when Viktor speaks, Yakov does not believe him. 

Things change, at the rink. Yakov tries to make sure they do. Things get a little better. There are no emergencies.

Yakov is resting on a chair in the corner at the banquet of the Sochi GPF, exhausted by small talk and schmoozing with sponsors. He is ready to go to bed. 

Then a twenty-seven year old Viktor Nikiforov is sprinting towards him, Armani jacket practically ripped open, blue eyes alight.

“YAKOV, IT’S AN EMERGENCY!”

Here he comes, Yakov thinks. Here we go

To the guys who feel like they can't interact with children

To the guys who see a lost kid crying at the grocery store and want to do something but can’t in fear of looking like a kidnapper

To the guys who get harassed out in public with their younger siblings

To the fathers who are treated like predators for being around their own children

To the male teachers who get worried looks from parents worried about leaving their child with a man

I see you, you aren’t creepy, it’s okay. I respect men who are good with kids, who actually care and actually want to help when a lost child is scared, who are passionate enough to help their siblings or to spend time with their children, who have made it their profession to educate children.

I’m sorry that society makes you too nervous to be able to show the same platonic affection to children that women are able to.

I see you. Thank you for caring.

2

A warmth was spreading through him that had nothing to do with the sunlight; a tight obstruction in his chest seemed to be dissolving. He knew that Ron and Hermione were more shocked than they were letting on, but the mere fact that they were still there on either side of him, speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking from him as though he were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more than he could ever tell them.

Have you ever really thought about how many users there are on tumblr? On ao3? Wattpad? Have you ever stopped to think about how many people are in your fandom? How that shy girl in the back of the class could be reading gay fanfiction right now? How that one football player sitting with his phone in his lap could be reblogging bxb fanart? Hell, even your teacher could spend their free time on tumblr! Fans are all around us and we have no idea.