Time To Cry - Tumblr Posts
idk if ctimene is canon in epic but here's my interpretation of their reunion. um. sorry
It’s in my hands bruh it’s actually happening
something something, you're the only person left, so hold me
@cecropiacrown you know what i mean
vhope cutest babies ♡
I haven’t finished the fanfic yet, but is that gonna stop me from enjoying this comic?
Nuh uh!
Do I have any idea how sad it’s gonna be?
Yeah, I’ve seen all the sad fanart and ppl raving about how it broke them.
Is that gonna stop me from binging the fic like it’s an English essay I haven’t even started, due at 10 and it’s 9:30?
Nuh uh!
The Rise fandom are all masochists, we love to make ourselves suffer over the angst that comes with being in this fandom.
Any and all objections is you lying to yourself.
Throws this here
Again, this wonderful story belongs to @celestiangell Heres a link to read it! But if you don't like reading ao3 or words in general, follow along this comic!
also, Leo isn't actually blushing that much... I just like drawing the extra lines.
I might post the next part tomorrow or the day after...
Previous | Next (coming soon)
Maybe tonight? but for now... SEE YA NEXT TIME IM SO TIRED IM PASSING OUT.
Afterwards, Lala tried to pick a fight with Leona as per usual but eventually, they decided to take a peaceful nap instead like the big cats that they are
I made a thing and now imma cryyyy, but enjoy :,)
❕cw: slight gore and possible Final Space Spoliers (up to S1:E6)❕
• Show: Final space • Song: Skyfall by Adele •
Marginalized
Noah's ark had no room for three legged dogs like me
I'm left on the edges with the two headed calves bawling into the dark
Barking at midgets and lobster clawed men; there is no mate for me, no two by two
I am the interloper, I am darkness.
Comforting Them Headcanons (TF141 + Alex x GN! Reader)
Can these even be considered headcanons when they're unorganized drabbles in a HC design? We're blurring the lines and inventing new things today apparently
TW: Lots of angst, the guys are dealing with a lot emotionally (very closed off about it though), suggestions of some depressive episode symptoms, some mentions of arguing and one injury while cooking.
| Blog HQ |
Captain John Price
Just a heads up, he's taking this one pretty hard the text from Kate read, a couple days before John would be returning home. Your heart sunk reading the words, mind immediately planning and preparing for when he arrived.
After so many years of marriage, homecomings following deployment went from a grand guesture (ie. Hugging you tight and spinning you softly as he whispered about how much he missed you) to more intimate moments hidden away from wandering eyes.
Maybe that was just the two of you getting older.
Ultimately you decided to play things by ear, follow his lead and love him a little more. Hold him a little tighter. Kiss him a little longer.
The first thing you noticed when he came home was the bags that formed under his eyes, and the pain hidden deep within. Despite the horrors he saw, the moments replaying in his mind, the decisions his soul screamed at him to change...
He still smiled at you, eyes lighting up as he pressed a loving, deep kiss to your lips. Pulling you tight into his chest, a small reminder of why he was fighting so hard to make the world a bit of a better place.
You noticed he was quieter over the next couple of days, wrapping up paperwork and administrative tasks before taking time for just you and him. This wouldn't normally be cause for alarm; he's done this every time since forming the task force. What really concerned you though?
How he holed himself in his office, spending most hours of the day hidden away.
You knew better than to be here. His office, his space. The threshold being the physical divide between head and heart. Work and play. Tactical and tactful.
Yet, there you stand. Watching him lean over his desk, worry lines creasing his forehead, shoulders shaking slightly.
The physical divide between past and present.
"Love..." You started softly, watching his muscles tense up immediately. "I'm coming in" you declared, feet moving a moment after when he didn't protest.
Soft footfalls and heavy breathing filled the room as you made your way over to what was currently the shell of a man. A hand resting softly between his shoulder blades, you felt the muscles tense, shake, release, then repeat. He was holding back.
Pulling in a shaky breath after a few moments of silence, he whispered: "thank you for the concern, darling. But don't stress yourself over me. I'll be fine"
Rubbing soft circles overtop his t-shirt, a silent check in. You're not okay, my sweet love. Are you?
You weren't convinced. Not in the slightest.
Continuing to rub your hand across the expanse of his back, you felt the shakiness return. You could see the storm waging behind his eyes. Hand sliding fully across his shoulder, dipping to wrap around his middle you held him; determined not to let him get lost at sea. Lips pressed against the top of his head as you felt his body shake with silent sobs.
"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway" you whispered to him, voice breaking as you pressed a loving kiss to his hair.
Sobs now wracking his shoulders, you sat there silently. Holding tightly onto him as he felt every emotion he needed to, whispering soft details about what haunted him every so often.
Calming down, he moved from your embrace to stand up. Pulling you against his chest properly as he mumbled a soft I love you so much
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
It was supposed to be a beautiful night, exploring his hometown. Wandering the streets, admiring how beautiful everything looked lit up under the street lights.
"This was my favourite resturaunt for so many years" he chuckled, eyes scanning over the menu. Giving you his recommendations at your request as you felt your heart fill. He had been smiling all day, excited to be showing you off to everyone he knows. To show you the people and places that made him who he is today.
The two of you fell into easy conversation throughout your meal. Discussing his favourite memories from eating here, to where he wanted to show you next.
Fingers intertwined, stomachs and hearts full, arms swinging obnoxiously as you walked down the street. Your eyes wide as he pointed out buildings, mentioning which shops used to be there. Or which shops he promised to show you in the morning.
His demeanor shifted entirely about halfway throughout your journey. Something, or somewhere leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
Except, his body language didn't translate that very well. Leaving you confused and concerned as to why he was suddenly closed off and only speaking when you asked questions.
Even then his responses were short and seemingly disinterested.
You debated the entire walk back to his flat on whether you should mention it. The pain feeding on the unknown pushed you to gently ask:
"What's going on?" A few minutes after you two made it inside. He shrugged the question off, assuring you it was nothing as he went to the bedroom to change and likely shower.
One could argue that what you did next was selfish, un-needed. Pure unfiltered emotion that came out before your mind could filter the words.
"Are you sure? Because it doesn't seem like nothing" you intended for the sentence to portray your concern, not for frustration to take over and spark an argument.
He stopped, shoulders tensing before he turned his head. Glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
"You'll never understand" he started with a sarcastic chuckle. You went to defend your point, admit you won't know unless he let's you in and tells you.
"You'll never fucking understand!" He snapped, turning to face you now. Angry tears streaking down his face as his lip quivered. Pain twisting into his features as he stood in front of you.
Guilty. Angry. Hurt. Helpless
"No, you're right" you were fighting tears of your own now. Partially due to the shock, and pain of his outburst; though you knew he wasn't doing this intentionally. "I'll never know the true extent of your work, Kyle. But fucking hell, give me a chance to help. Or at least try!"
Both of you standing, closed off as you processed your emotions. Chose your next words wisely before letting your high strung emotions make accusations and digs you'd never be able to take back.
Staring ahead, unfocused as tears ran down his face. Breathing heavily as the weight of his mind came crashing down. "Just go" he muttered, causing the reasonable side of you to falter. Being replaced by loving rage as you snapped:
"Tell me every terrible thing you've ever done, and let me love you anyway!" The words were said through light sobs. Your heart ached for him, wishing to ease his mind of the darkness, to erase what broke his kind hearted soul.
"Let me love you" you whispered pathetically, a feeling of relief washing over you when he caught your mouth in a kiss.
A silent sign that he was willing to at least try.
John "Soap" Mactavish
For most people, it was tough to see past the positive, lighthearted exterior. Anything remotely negative being washed away with a smirk and joke. While an acquired taste, everyone had to admit he did boost morale.
You however, saw right through it. Having the privilege and luck of being loved by Johnny for the last 3 years gave you a different view. You had the privilege of seeing the raw and real sides of his soul.
You could tell the difference between when he was volunteering out of duty, or out of recklessness. The natural and artificial light that would shine behind his eyes. When he was truly happy vs when he put up a front to hide the barricades he built over his heart.
Your intuition when it came to his mind was never 100%, the only person (well, thing) that had clear insight to what was going through his mind was the journal he kept close by. You knew it held everything from doodles and drawings, to battle plans he was trying to memorize, all the way to pages he wouldn't show anyone. Filled with memories and screams that kept him awake at night.
Which is why you would willingly break the kneecaps of anyone who came remotely close to trying to sneak a peek.
Right as the team returned, you noticed he wasn't himself. Despite still smiling and taking the piss out of Simon, he was pulling back emotionally. Putting distance between himself and the world.
"You know, at some stage teasing Ghost like that is going to become more dangerous than the actual mission" you joked, holding your arms out to him for a hug when he was close enough.
Happily obliging, he pulled you tight. Rocking your bodies back and forth slightly as his eyes closed. Letting his muscles relax and mind shut off for a second.
He was home.
Walking out from your shower that night, your brows immediately furrowed when you noticed one very alarming detail:
The journal hadn't moved an inch.
As mentioned before, for anyone else this would have been normal. But for Johnny? It was an extension of his being. He'd normally sit for hours the first night after a mission, getting the stress and exhaustion out of his system. Translating everything he couldn't say into marks on a page.
You didn't mention it, but the concern kept growing when 3, 4 then 5 days passed and it still wasn't touched. There was no way he was using it and placing it delicately back into the exact position every time. Especially when he had a habit of tossing it gently to the side, or onto the nightstand the entire time you've known him.
It was at lunch a week after his return when the realization hit you, his sudden aversion to using his one tried and true coping mechanism. His free (well, cheap) therapy as he called it once.
He would have to face whatever happened on this mission every single time he opened the book. A journal filled with too many memories that he isn't willing to give up just yet.
You forgot your lunch and appetite quite quickly after putting things together in your head. Determined to quietly help your boyfriend through whatever he was trying to fight on his own. A fight without any weapons at that.
A new, cheap journal you bought from one of the stores 5 or so minutes from base. With a small note in your handwriting in the front cover:
Tell me every terrible thing you've ever done, and let me love you anyway.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
To anyone else, they wouldn't have noticed anything wrong. Just Ghost being....well, Ghost.
You, however started noticing the small details:
The way he got quieter, becoming more distanced from conversations and others. The way he would hold you, but not pull you as tight as he normally did. Sleeping for longer and longer.
The sleeping in during the day was the major giveaway that he was currently dealing with something below the surface.
Simon couldn't argue that sleeping until your body felt rested, and spending a lazy day in bed (especially with someone you love) wasn't a blessing all in its own. Life's simple pleasures he would whisper on these days, holding you tight as he pressed soft kisses across your face and lips.
Sleeping in hours past your normal almost every day off, however? Barely being able to wake up to your alarms? Red flag.
Despite your concern, and the heartache these episodes would bring; you knew better than to corner the man. Than to try and dissect what he was feeling before he was ready to. He's gotten a lot better at letting you in once he's on the other side of this. Especially in the last few years.
So you waited, you supported him from an arms length. Ensuring he ate, shifting your sleep schedule to spend a few minutes in the morning with him. Holding him a bit tighter at night and during hugs. Passively reminding him of all the things you love about him, about your relationship.
He once told you the small things you did brought him back to the present. Reminded him that there were some good things in his life; even when his mind tried blinding him to this.
When all he could see was the failures, the losses, the obvious signs he missed in the moment.
This episode lasted longer than any before, causing your concern and his guilt to grow. Despite all the assurance from yourself and his friends -- he still beat himself up for closing off so badly. Everyone has their demons, don't need to be reminded of them every time I walk into a room.
He tried opening up a few times, to let you know what burdens he was carrying. None of these alleviated the heaviness on his heart -- if anything they caused his walls to thicken and rise.
It was one night, the two of you getting ready for bed. Rain pouring down against the roof as you slid under the covers.
He softly apologized again, promising that he was trying to open up to anyone. That he had a personal debrief about the last mission with John today. Eyes meeting yours, guilt finding forgiveness. Terror finding patience. Love finding love.
"When you're ready..." You started, shifting closer and cuddling into his side. Fingers intertwining with his over his chest. His heart beating below the skin. "Tell me every terrible thing you've ever done, and let me love you anyway"
Alex Keller
He was laying on the bed, mindlessly scrolling his phone. One arm behind his head as he laid, staring at the screen with half lidded eyes.
"You look bored" you commented, busying yourself with putting clean laundry away. Glancing up when you didn't hear a response, watching him shrug at your comment.
It had been a little over 2 months since he returned from his latest mission; past the catching up phase, not quite in the savour every moment while we have it phase. There was a sense of normalcy for the last week, minus the subtle changes in his behaviour.
You've never seen him lay bored and occupy his thoughts with meaningless activities, at least not to this extent. All week if it wasn't his phone, it was a controller with a game he wasn't totally interested in. He would always write this off with this week just being "a lazy week"
For most people, this is a totally valid point. Lazy days, lazy weeks especially for someone with such a high stress lifestyle should be a godsend. A moment to be cherished.
Except Alex wasn't most people -- he would take a lazy day at most (which would still be filled with something remotely productive). He liked knowing his actions made some form of difference, he loved seeing progress.
So to spend the last week lounging on the couch or bed passing time with nothing to show for it was concerning at the least.
"We could repaint the cupboards later this afternoon, like we've been talking about forever" you offered, moving around the room.
"If you want to, sure. What are you thinking?" He responded half heartedly; causing your eyebrow to raise. Glancing up, watching him scroll for a couple more seconds before meeting your gaze. "What's going on?"
You dropped your eyes to avoid his gaze for a second, contemplating whether or not it was worth mentioning. Maybe you were in fact reading too far into this, and he was taking time to recoup before being sent out again. But it never hurts to ask...right?
"I could be asking you the same thing" You countered, moving to sit on the corner of the bed. Eyes scanning over his features -- feigned confusion glazing over what was really going on.
"If this is about the cupboards, we can do that today if you want. We'll go grab supplies, I'll drive" he shrugged with a light chuckle, phone still in hand.
"It's not about cupboards, or reno projects. You're not yourself lately" you whispered, watching some pain and guilt start to surface.
"It's...." he paused, hand rubbing over the lower half of his face before continuing "it's nothing you need to worry about. You'll be the first to know if there is" he crawled off the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before leaving the room.
It wasn't until later that afternoon that the conversation came back up. He busied himself with cooking supper, while you sat atop the counter keeping him company. Debating the plot points to the movie you two had watched a few nights prior.
In the moment, you convinced yourself you read too far into his recent actions (or lack thereof). The current interaction was natural, normal for the two of you. Laughter filtering through your heated exclamations about how the other person was wrong.
Until a call came through on his phone, you caught a glance of the name before he grabbed the device. Quietly answering the call as he left the room; the concern creeping back into your chest as you picked up making supper.
You were focused in on the task at hand, not hearing him walk into the room a few minutes later.
"That's my job, you know" he teased, hands on your waist as you jumped in surprise. Somehow pressing your forearm into the edge of the hot pan.
Cursing, you jerked your arm back. Nerves screaming as you felt yourself being guided to the sink. Soft repeated apologies being whispered above you as his hands brought your arm under the lukewarm water.
Body relaxing from the initial shock, you listened as the apologies didn't stop. The guilt and pain in his words as he took the blame for the minor accident.
"Hey, hey" you cut in softly, turning to look up at him. "Stop, you don't need to apologize. These things happen, I wasn't paying attention. This is on me"
Despite your words, he was visibly distraught. Looking at you like he just drop kicked your puppy. This wasn't about the burn.
"Talk to me" you whispered, one hand sliding over his back as the other cupped his cheek. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"
Eyes shifting between your face as the floor, he shook his head. Far too much for him to dump onto you...
"You don't want to know. Lots of horrible things, but I'll get through it. I'll figure it out" he promised, pressing a shaky kiss to your hairline. Body shaking with silent sobs at your next words:
"What if I want to know?" Arms sliding fully around him, pulling him tight as you shifted to rest your forehead against his chest.
"Tell me every terrible thing you thing you've ever done, and let me love you anyway" you whispered, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt as he held you tightly against him.
Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @bowtruckleninja @v1naco