#im gonna cry
I just want to stop being such a disappointment.
god it feels so fuckign good knowing that c!wilbur hates dream to his corefor what he did to tommy. it feels so good knowing how furious he is, this is so satisfying
Aggggghhhhhh THE TEARS !!!!!
I just want a group of random people/ friends and have group chat that runs off if crack ✌️
Uhhhhhhh my eyeballs are sweating? The dang montage got me
Aaaaaaaahhhhhh I’m crying!!!!!!!!!!
I just finished watching Despair
I’m prepared to cry so much today
Too bad my reaction i wasn’t able to watch it yesterday
Y’all I’m so excited for the 15x18
TOO BAD I DON’T HAVE CABLE
I’m watching unity rn y’all I can’t I just can’t
MY EYES ARE SUDDENLY SWEATING
The Wookie youngling from Clone Wars is gonna be in The Bad Batch season 2, that’s all that matters!
At least one of the children survived!!!
I’m the most happy person in the world aaaaaaaahhhh
@auroblaze le hai trovate?? Sono all'ipercoop! *3*
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Jon has always had trouble imagining the future. At university when people asked him where he saw himself in five years, he would often stare at them like a deer caught in headlights, or else stammer out something incoherent about graduate school. Once he was at the Institute, his life fell into a comfortable pattern, and planning no more than a few months in advance felt…fine. Normal.
Of course, once he moved to the Archives, he quickly stopped even trying to imagine the future. He was too busy trying to survive the present to consider what the next month might hold, let alone the next year.
And after the apocalypse, he pretty much became certain that his future would only last as long as the new world did.
But then, something rather extraordinary happens, and Jon finds himself somewhere else, with Martin by his side, and a span of years stretching in front of them that resembled, astoundingly, something like a future.
–
They have a daughter.
It’s not something either of them ever allowed themselves to expect or hope for, not for a long time. Even after arriving somewhere else, after they had settled in and convinced themselves that this was real, that they were together and safe–even then, they approached the concept of the future with…caution. Like it was a skittish animal that might disappear if spooked. They built a life together, a normal life full of so many things they never thought they would be able to have, but each milestone they hit–anniversary, new flat, new jobs–still felt like a precious gift.
And now…
Now, Jon stands in a hospital room, with Martin beaming tiredly up at him from his bed, and he holds the future–their future–in his arms.
Her tiny face is scrunched and red, her distinct lack of hair covered by a pink and blue striped cap. She looks, like many newborns, a little bit like a grumpy old man, but her eyes when she looks up at him are enormous and a deep, dark, beautiful brown.
Jon doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so perfect.
Everything about her is minuscule and immaculate, from the delicate curve of her ears to her fine-boned fingers, which Jon takes delicately between his own. He had no idea that fingernails could be so small. Her fingers curl around his thumb and he thinks his heart might explode with an emotion too big for him to name.
After spending months repeatedly convincing himself that they are really here, that this is truly happening–she is real in a way that is utterly undeniable. The weight of her in his arms, the delicate press of her fingers around his thumb, the way her nose is still smudged with red from birth.
She is the most real thing he’s ever seen, and he never wants to stop looking at her.
The tears catch him by surprise, the aching, enormous feeling is too much, too overwhelming to keep inside and it flows out of him in a single, hitched sob. But for once, he doesn’t mind; he’s smiling through the tears, a grin so big it almost hurts.
He wishes he could tell all his past selves that they have something as extraordinary as this ahead of them.
From the bed, Martin reaches out and tugs gently at Jon’s elbow, and Jon immediately follows the pull, handing the baby back to Martin so that he can crawl into bed beside him. He leans his head on Martin’s shoulder, almost eye to eye with their daughter (their daughter!) where she’s resting now on Martin’s chest. She blinks sleepily at him before yawning a huge, face-stretching yawn and closing her eyes.
Jon drapes his arm over both of them, resting his hand lightly on their daughter’s back. And there, holding the two people he loves most in the world–his family–in his arms, for the first time in as long as he can remember, Jon finds he believes in the possibility of the future.
sorry ive been mia!! I AM HERE & wishing all ayato and venti wanters a very early gold <333
Let’s play a game: you hit me till I cry
thinking about middle aged gay love is like. we have a future and we have time
my mother divorced my father when i was 7. it wasn’t because she was gay, though she did discover this later (another reminder that it’s okay to find out who you are at 40, at 50, etc, and also for who you are to change) but because she had thought he was the great love of her life and he turned out to be a shitty person.
my mother married my ma when i was 11. i think they do have a great love. i think they love each other the way you can when you’re middle aged – having seen the world, being able to see each other’s flaws, knowing themselves. they see each other in full, and they love each other and the world for it.
they dance on the street to buskers (very embarrassing when you’re twelve; very cute when you look back on it as an adult). i shit you not – they pass me their purses and dance on the sidewalk, laughing. i thought was something that only happened in movies.
my ma makes my mother eggs every morning because my mother can’t cook for shit. my mother presses my ma’s work blazers for her because my ma still can’t figure out how to work the new iron.
when it was warm, high-school me would wake up on the weekends and wander downstairs to find them sitting in the backyard in the sun, drinking coffee together and splitting the newspaper in a surgical, exact process since they’d worked out who wanted which sections years ago.
my mother is happier than she’s ever been. my ma, too. there is a future out there for every gay person who’s always known they’re gay, like my ma, and for everyone who figures it out later, like my mother. there’s time.
they’re growing old together. i cannot express to you how much they are leading happy lives, loving each other, with a huge family surrounding them. i cannot express to you how much they have this beautiful future that they are living and will live.
i want you to know, if you don’t have any older gays in your life: they’re out there. and they’re living these full, happy lives.
sometimes i look to my moms and i think, i want a life like yours. and looking at them makes me believe i will get it.
