So To Be Clear,

My favorite part of Prospect (2018) is when Cee basically explains why we write fanfiction, and Ezra is being adorably supportive.

Fran Thoughts 1

I know this isn't healthy to let it out here but better something than nothing-

Some people thought being art student is easy but it is not, between juggling to general education subjects and doing major art subjects makes the time difficulty especially this online class.

Not only that you missed and craved the interaction between your peers especially while your doing artworks with them. Even if the art profs not teaching *ehem* just really giving projects to you. Or that after school fatigue yet became gone atleast for awhile because hanging out despite getting four hours of sleep is worth it.

Now on online class it's only not much interaction between classmates because we had many things to do not only in school but many personal things happening at home. It felt like just passing time doing plates (projects) and doing requirements of school yet felt like there was no reward for it.

Yet despite the negative feelings, we still strive to be if not best do better for ourselves.

I would really like this trend of donation scammers sending anons to stop. I block them yet they still send anons. It's very annoying.

Will forever be grateful for this post and your writings crab! I usually read this every know and then! Really recommend and read crabdrables blog!! Sorry for the VERY late thoughts but taking L's left and right irl lol Onto some of my personal thoughts:

Relating very much with reader's unending cycle of self-doubt and hatred that may stem from themselves and from family too.

Ain't exactly an academic achiever expect when college but please for the love of find time in social life to or you'll kind of end up with reader here. Asian things lol.

Speaking of Asian things, reader's parents love language here is more on actions and less on verbal. This alright but kinda toxic when its something one thing only. Reader craves to of validation through words too. What's one action can be interpreted as another; example reader wants their parents to apologize but instead was given food and spoils them instead of direct accountability.

Academic validation you'll find in majority of families unfortunately something reader thought that they should do for majority of their life but their is life outside school too.

Pleasing for other people is what person's identity will get themselves killed literally and metaphorically, it shows that reader is drained from what all happened in their life.

Reader really giving it all, as they think it would be make it or break it on the military.

Sad with reader that even if they joined the 141, their feelings of doubt and emptiness is still there and not easily those feeling be swayed easily.

Reader be yearning and wanting to be part of the 141 fam yet really made them out of place at the task force at first.

Calling "kid" by the 141 pulled me some of my heart strings, reader for sure was touched by their endearment thought they are still processing what the 141 say.

Reader's mind and thoughts be really damaged, so deep in their mind that they forgot the positive interactions with the 141.

Not the reader overhearing the string of Gaz' words and reader walking away not hearing the whole convo. Gaz seeing through reader and worried mother hen.

Ghost be the terrifying lt yet softie understanding big bro here.

Soap the ever social butterfly yet respecting social boundaries for reader.

Dad!Price ain't giving up reader that early. Yearning for someone like Price wanting to understand and talk to like reader here.

Reader may not feel that they have place in 141 but they already are, they are just in denial and still on process.

Reader be shocked that Price finds them.

Price be observant due to years being in the military.

“Something on your mind?” Price asks that lead to conversation his understanding that led to Reader's opening up even when they cried earlier.

Price be knight in shining armor and Papa bear that is ready to defend anyone and especially 141 and that includes the reader. "Violence and timing." as Price known quote.

Reader be awkward on calling Price's first name and sharing what on their mind is.

Price despite reader's doubts on their place on 141 still reassures and knows that reader is in the right place. That not anyone could replace reader as they already carve into 141's hearts.

Price giving reader more credit as he sees that reader worked their ass off hard and well.

Not the joked that turned to not joked with hugging and effing Reader still protecting their parents and Price horrified with the silence and revelation.

Captain with his words about obligation and not love for sure hit Reader's head like a truck.

Price really giving the words that Reader crave and wanted to hear for their whole life, did gave them hope and made them less empty.

Papa John Price gave hug that Reader may not realized that they need it.

Reader felt seen and appreciated for who they are. Reader be stuck and with their found family as long as they can (forever).

Hiii Crab so happy to see you write outside of our rants/idea chats and my fellow delulu cod enjoyer! Would love to request Platonic!141 + Reader (sorry if this is long and somewhat confusing lol). You can do headcanons, drabble or whatever you comfy for. An idea that popped in my head kinda semi personal: Civ or 141! Reader though has parents and family is the reader is quite something else. Reader despite having somewhat normal upbringing still feel empty; they shouldn't be feeling this numb and empty deep inside of them. The reader craves the love that they give but couldn't or lack of receiving it back, though they don’t expect it or selfishly want it. Just someone who understands them even in their deepest darkest secret or flaw then boom cue the task force 141 unexpected yet welcoming to their life and maybe the one that the Reader can lean and let them be vulnerable on (finally).  

Take your time on doing this Looking for to your other writing genuinely -Cee, your fellow Soap delulu

GN!Reader & 141 (Mostly Price)

Warnings: Slight angst Ships: None. A/N: This absolutely ran away from me and I do not at all regret it, hope you enjoy, Cee!!! Words: 3549

Almost your entire life had been a cycle of self doubt that also started to churn and twist into self-hatred. You blamed yourself for the feelings. Afterall, you had a relatively normal upbringing. Two parents who were both present in your life, both of whom worked so that you all had food on the table and a roof over your head. A luxury that very few had.

The least you could do for them is follow the path that they wanted to put you on, no matter how much you didn’t want to do it. Because you loved them. 

So you excelled in your education, studying hard to try and impress your parents– to make them love you just as much as you loved them for everything that they did for you for your entire life. They wanted you to do all three sciences despite the additional workload it would add to your already stretched thin time? Then you would do them, take any extra classes after school in order to keep up with the work and not lag behind any of your peers. 

There was no such thing as a social life, either, not when you had homework and projects due. Friends were few and far between. Generally, most people left when they realised how hyper focused you were on your grades instead of social interaction. 

Did a classmate get a higher grade than you on a test? Well obviously you didn’t study hard enough, you just needed to dedicate more time to school even though school was all you had.

Did you get the highest marks in the class? Good, that was what was expected of you. Why didn’t you get full marks? You were better than that. You would do better because you loved your family. They showed it in their own way, of course, by encouraging you to study harder and get better grades. That was their love language, and yours was doing as they asked without a second thought. Because, at the end of the day, you were lucky to have an upbringing like you had. You would ignore the hollow void clawing at your chest because you had no right to feel that way– not when you had a roof over your head and parents that loved you(?).

It was when you came top of the class with full marks in a recent test, you came home with a beaming smile on your face and proudly showed the test to your parents. They took the papers from your hands, flipping through your work with critical eyes, before handing the papers back to you. 

‘Well done, we’re so proud of you.’ That was all you wanted them to say to you. That was all you needed to hear. To know that they loved you. 

‘Your penmanship is terrible.’ Was what you got instead. When you tried to point at the big 100% in green pen, you were waved away. ‘How are you expected to get a job when you write like a child? I’m surprised the teacher could even read your answers’. 

After several years of balancing a work and educational life and paving a way for a line of work that you didn’t want for parents you should have been grateful to have, you decided that enough was enough. 

No matter how hard you worked, no matter how high your marks were, they would never be proud of you. They would never return the love that you had for them until you nearly killed yourself trying. 

Spending your entire childhood, teenagehood and all of your current adulthood trying to please your parents predictably would damage one’s psyche. You had no friends, family who had never been devoted to you as you were to them, and high grades serving as the foundations to a prison-like future.

You dropped out of University. The only option forward that you saw was joining the army in the vain hope that the empty feeling inside of you would dissipate when you actually did something that you believed was more worthwhile than any University course. 

So you threw yourself into the military, working harder than all of the other recruits and training at every chance you could.

Your skills and determination became widely recognised amongst your peers. It took several years, but you eventually caught the eye of none other than Captain John Price. 

Impressed by your willpower that not many soldiers possessed, he offered you a place on the 141. 

Naturally, you agreed. You believed that being part of such a well renowned and respected team would finally beat back the lingering self doubt and emptiness that had curled itself around your heart.

It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse.

You were invited to join the 141, sure, but they had already established their own relationships between each other, had already bonded into a close knit group, and you were simply an outsider. Yes, you had been hand picked by Price himself, but that didn’t mean you were part of the team. They had their own inside jokes that they told to one another, leaving you feeling left out on most days.

And you felt… lacking around them. Ghost was stronger, Gaz was faster, Soap was smarter (he was a demolitions expert for crying out loud!), and Price was almost all of those rolled into one. They all complimented each other as a team. Meanwhile you felt like a spare tyre, a master of nothing and barely a jack of any trade. 

Despite how you felt about it all, they all called you ‘kid’. Regardless of age gaps between yourself and the rest of them, the nickname stuck mostly because you were the newbie. It came as a surprise that it wasn’t spat with vitriol as your peers before had, but it was in fact said with… an affection you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t ignore the hole in your chest that had been chipped at over the years, forming a gaping maw that no reassurances could really mend. 

Doubt lingered in the back of your mind, chipping away at your sanity as you prepared for the worst. How long would it take before they realised you weren’t good enough? 

You were so deep in your doubts that you didn’t realise that you had been distancing yourself even more than before until you overheard a conversation in Price’s office a few months down the line.

“-- they don’t belong on the team.” Gaz said as you passed Price’s office and your heart dropped. It was only the tailend of what he had been saying but you had gotten the gist. You wanted to stay, to listen to the conversation more and listen to what your team had to say about you, but you didn’t. What you were going to hear were likely things you had already told yourself right from the start. You keep walking on, ignoring the sting of tears burning in the corners of your eyes. The blood rushing in your ears prevented you from heating the rest of the conversation. 

“-- not only are they acting like they don’t belong on the team, but they’re acting like they’re not good enough.” Gaz continued, sighing in frustration.

“Maybe they need more time.” Ghost rumbled in reply, “Let them come out of their shell a little bit. Best not rush these things.” He was talking from experience, after all.

“Aye… maybe I can invite them out for drinks or sommat? I wouldn’t want them getting transferred before we got to know them a little more.” Soap had been the one that had tried the hardest to get close to you but had also tried to give you space so as to not suffocate you with his personality. 

“They won’t be getting transferred.” Price said with conviction, tapping his desk, “I chose them to be part of this team and this is where they’re going to stay. Let me have a word with them first.”

“Aye, sir.”

— — — — — —

You found yourself in the smoker’s shelter outside the main building. It was late enough that most of the soldiers had gone to bed or off to do their own things elsewhere so you doubted that you would be bothered for a little while. Just enough time for you to get your thoughts together. Your tears had dried in your eyes a few minutes ago, making them sting in the cold air. You didn’t need to look in your reflection to know that you probably looked like a wreck– entirely unbecoming of a soldier of your apparent status. 

You didn’t want to get transferred. Despite your distance with the 141, you didn’t hate them. Far from, actually, you held a great deal of respect for each and every one of them. It was just that you felt like you didn’t have your place amongst them. Not good enough to be associated with them. 

“Bit late to be out here in the cold, chuck.” A voice startled you out of your thoughts– one that you would recognise anywhere from the low rasp of a smoker's lungs. 

“Captain.” You croaked, wincing at the patheticness in your voice. There was a scuff of boots as Price came closer, leaning into your line of vision with a furrowed brow which only furrowed more as he took in your dishevelled appearance.

“Something on your mind?” He asked kindly, perching on the arm of the bench to give you some personal space. He left his question open, allowing you any chance to steer the conversation how you wanted to. There was no judgement for catching you at your lowest, no disgust at your red rimmed eyes— just polite understanding and a non verbal offer of pleasant company. 

“Why did you pick me, Captain?”

The question made him tilt his head, a frown beginning to tug on his features. You were worried you had insulted him.

“What brought this on, huh? Someone say something to you? Need me to have a word with them?” He straightened his back, scowling. Whilst you felt like you didn’t have a place in the 141, you could never deny the shield of protectiveness that Price held over his team. You remember in the back of your mind the day that some General who thought he was hot shit had the audacity to undermine Soap as nothing more than a ‘yappy dog’ when offered the Scot’s demolitions expertise. Price had appeared almost out of thin air and almost ripped the General a new one and things would have escalated into a fist fight had Laswell not intervened. It wasn’t as though Price didn’t think his own soldiers were capable of defending themselves, but he couldn’t care less about punishments aimed his own way over that of his Sergeants and Lieutenant. It was just a surprise that the protective streak extended over you, too, despite your distance to your teammates.

“I’ll sound stupid.” You mumbled, looking down at the ground as if expecting him to chastise you like a child. He didn’t.

“I’ve had my fair share of stupid over the years. Try me.”

“... and ungrateful.”

“I once had a guy punch me in the face two seconds after I took a bullet that would have killed him.” Price countered with a cut off chuckle once he remembered what was probably a mission long finished and cleared his throat. “C’mon, tell Captain what’s on your mind.”

And he sounded so sincere when he said it. Sounded like he genuinely wanted to hear what was going on in your head– that he was willing to waste what was already his important and limited time on someone like you. 

“Sir—”

“John.” Price corrected gently, crows feet more noticeable at the corners of his eyes scrunched up when he smiled, “We’re off duty, you don’t need to be so formal.”

“... John.” You echoed, finding that you really didn’t like saying that. It felt like calling your teacher by their first name in primary school or a classmate’s parent other than their last name. 

“Now, c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind. Might not be a therapist, but I’m better than bottling it up.” You wondered in the back of your mind how often Price did this. Sat with his soldiers and talked with them, offered them a listening ear to hear their vents and fears. You couldn’t help but feel honoured to be one of the few he willingly offered said time to. Your silence stretched on as you thought of the words to say, how to phrase what you wanted to say without sounding unappreciative of the opportunity that Price had offered you when he requested you join his team. 

“I don’t feel like I belong here.” You blurted once the silence had stretched on for long enough to border on uncomfortable. John’s face fell and you quickly realised how bad that sounded and rushed to correct yourself.

“No, no, wait, let me explain–” the Captain closed his mouth to allow you to continue speaking, but you could tell that it was hard for him. “I just… you could have anyone better than me, you know? I’m not a demolition expert. I’m… I’m not the best Sniper. I’m the slowest on the team, pretty sure I’m the weakest–”

“Nope.” Price interrupted, finally breaking the bubble of your personal space as he took a proper seat next to you on the bench but still respecting the distance enough to keep a few inches between you. “Nope, not lettin’ you say another word.”

“But–” 

“Nope.”

“Cap–”

“No.”

“But you could have anyone better—“

“But they wouldn’t be you.” He deflected easily. Far too easily. He leant back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms over his chest. His fingers twitched and you could tell he was itching for a cigar but didn’t light one out of respect. 

“Alright, sure, I can ask Laswell to give me one of the best soldiers in the SAS and have them brought here tomorrow. They could be the best of the best, top of their class, better than you and maybe even better than me. But that’s a bit of a stretch.” He winked and earned a weak chuckle from you. “But they won’t be you. I don’t pick just on skill alone, kid, I pick based on how I feel people would fit into the team. I chose you because I knew that you’d be perfect.”

“As for not being a demolitions expert, let  me let you in on a little secret. I’ve no fucking clue about demolitions, either. And you don’t have to be on the team to be the ‘best Sniper’. You’re better than most, and that’s what’s important. As for being the weakest– did you or did you not bodily lift Gaz in a fireman’s carry during training the other week while he was trying to act as an injured civilian? Quite dramatically, might I add. Swooned and everything.”

You remembered that practice mission. Quite fondly, actually. Gaz was a civilian and , after being struck by a foam bullet from Soap, had dramatically screamed in agony and crumpled to the floor. When you had lifted him up and over your shoulders, the bastard continued to wail something along the lines of telling his non-existent spouse that he loved them and that his money be given to his equally non-existent children. Soap got in another shot to the man’s head, knocking off his cap in the process. Distracted as you were trying to haul your teammate out of the danger zone, you couldn’t help but laugh thinking about it now. 

“Last time I checked, Gaz is somewhat heavier than a sack of flour. Don’t tell him I said that, I’ll hurt his feelings.” Price was right, you supposed. You were more than capable of carrying Gaz over your shoulders, maybe even Soap or Price himself if the time called for it. Ghost you weren’t so sure about, though. The man was a walking mountain. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you have to give yourself more credit. You’re more than good enough to be on my team. I chose you for a reason.”

You… did not expect that sort of reassurance from Price. You had hoped for something along those lines, yes, but perhaps with a thrown in criticism or three. You waited for a ‘but’ that never came. The man snorted beside you and when you gave him a quizzical look, he waved off your concern.

“Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the next thing out of your mouth would be that your parents never hugged you as a kid.”

Your silence made him slowly turn his head towards you. It would have almost been comical if the situation wasn’t. His face crumbled and a wounded sound emerged from his throat.

“Sometimes they did!” You rushed to defend the people that raised you. “And they gave me food and shelter, clothes when I needed them–”

“Fucking hell. No, that’s what they’re supposed to do because they’re your parents. What about telling you that they were proud of you? That they loved you? I saw your records. Top of your class in not just your training but in your education, too. Triple sciences, mathematics, all of it. They had to be proud of you for that? My parents would have killed for me to get even a passing grade in my GCSEs.” You looked down at the ground and it was Price’s turn to have his eyes fixed on you. 

“They were proud of you, weren’t they?” He asked again, leaning forwards so he could catch your eye, his own filled with concern. “Kid?”

“I don’t talk to them much anymore.” 

Price inhaled sharply and he leaned back again, looking around and clenching his jaw as if fighting back his anger. His fingers twitched again. You admired his self control as he was still yet to grab a cigar that you knew he kept on his person. Usually in his breast pocket while his lighter was in his right pocket.

“Listen to me.” The Captain said, a more stern edge to his voice now that he had gathered his thoughts together. “Whatever your family said to you— how they treated you? Forget it. They showed you obligation. Not love. They didn’t want what was ‘best’ for you, they wanted bragging rights. What you’ve achieved– here, in bootcamp, in university and in school, is something to take pride in– no, no, look at me.”

Your gaze had trailed to the side so you avoided looking at your Captain in the eyes. He noticed and clicked his fingers to gain your attention back on him.

“Don’t look away from me because I want you to listen to what I’m gonna say and I want you to look at my face as I say it.” Your eyes met his blue ones, “You should be proud of everything that you’ve achieved in your life. I’m sorry that your family never told you that and I’m sorry that I haven’t said that enough to you since you joined 141.”

You opened your mouth to say something– to argue or disagree but he shook his head.

“No. It’s my turn to speak now. I’m proud of you. I am so proud of you. Everything you’ve done and everything that you’re yet to do, I will always be proud of you. You’re an exemplary soldier and I knew the moment I saw you that you would be a perfect addition to the 141 and you have proved me right time and time again. You belong on this team just as much as the rest of the boys. Do you understand?”

So many words– proud, proud, proud. That’s all you had wanted to hear for so many years from someone whose opinion mattered to you. You wanted to be seen and Price, this godsend of a man, had seen you and more.

“Kid, do you understand me?”

You nodded once and then realised that Price wouldn’t have been able to tell through your shaking. Tears blurred in the corners of your eyes and you nodded again, not trusting your voice in case it shattered. 

“What do you need from me?” Price’s voice was oh so soft, like he was talking to a frightened fawn. He could see how much his words had affected you and it clearly broke his own heart.

“A hug.” Your bottom lip wobbled and his face softened as he opened his arms, twitching his fingers to urge you closer.

“I can do that.” 

You leaned into him and he quickly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in close. You could smell the lingering scent of his last cigar. The smell of his office and cleaning oil. You felt his chin on the top of your head and felt how his chest rumbled as he spoke.

“You’re part of the 141 whether you like it or not, alright? Me and the boys want you here for as long as you want to be.”

At that moment, for the first time in your life. You felt wanted. You felt appreciated and you felt seen.

have a request? send one in!

“When people turn to fictional characters, it’s often because they want an escape. The stories of these people shelter us from the storm of our daily lives; they save us, if only for a little while. But when we really give in, become invested, let ourselves be vulnerable, something changes. We begin to feel that we know them. It’s no longer an escape, but part of us, something that makes us who we are.

These characters teach us that incredible adversity can be overcome. That people can love each other forever, That life can be an adventure. That magic can be real. And even if these miracles have never happened to us, we begin to go through life believing that, someday, they could.

If anybody ever tells me that storytelling isn’t important, I’ll show them this post”

Via themetapicture.com

YES. THIS. It doesn’t matter where the story lives - on a screen, in a book, in a video game - they all end up in our hearts. They end up becoming a part of our lives. No, more than that - they become part of our DNA. They become part of the air we breathe. They flow through our veins and inspire our dreams. And not because we give our entire lives over to them. It’s not about hiding. It’s about illuminating our lives, for the better, through the characters we love.

Stories make our lives just a little bit more livable.

Literally forgot how to do art lol

Experimenting (yes forgot I how to do graphic design pt1)

okay i’m really tired of the gaz exclusion💀

i was on a tiktok live of someone playing mw2 and this person was like “i like everyone except gaz” and this other person agreed saying “SAMEEEE” like ????? wdym everyone but gaz???? and so i asked “why do yall not like gaz genuine question” and then one of them asked “gaz is kyle right?” and just completely ignored my question😭 like atp it’s just racism cuz everyone but gaz???? you didnt even know that gaz was kyle???? did u even watch the actual gameplay???? im probably being over dramatic but this really ruffled my feathers clearly💀

Writing Prompts

It's hard to believe that this is you

It is never supposed to happen this way

Life is harsh, isn't?

I love you. You know that right?

Why do you do this?

Please don't... leave me

Ugh, its hard being you

You are gonna be okay

Know that I am here with you

I'm scared

What should I do?

People in my life left me

You never know what would happen

I'll protect you

They come and go

Nothing lasts forever

I'm so sorry

I'm gonna take care of you

I know its hard

I'll just leave you alone

I'll see you soon

I'll see you on the other side

Don't go

I came for you

I miss you (Y/n or C/n)

LEAVE ME ALONE

Leave me I'm not worth it

Hold my hand

Hug me

Cuddle with me

Lie down with me

Lets see the stars

Come with me

Ugh I'm bored

Shocks its time

AC-HOOO

°yawns°

we should go to bed

I appreciate on what you did (for me)

Listen

I need to talk with you

Hey

Its me

Lets go!

My treat

Don't overworked yourself

You should rest/relax

Don't hurt yourself

Come here

I need to treat your wounds

Rest now or you should rest

Gotta go

I should go

Is that you?

Is that really you? How could you?!

After all this time

All for nothing

It is never easy to let you go

Why does it have to be difficult at times?

Come with me

Lab ya

Luv u

I'm sorry

It all takes a courage to say it

Don't let the fear overcome you

I have to let you go

It is never easy

It wasn't meant to happen this way

Don't die on me, please

Take my hand

oh my! I'm one of the finalists at a painting completion, still cannot believe it aaaaa

Hello! I hope you are doing alright while the world around us falls. I have a question for you. How do you find inspiration to write? I am going through a horrible writers block and I have NO inspiration whatsoever.

So, I know the feeling.  For me, writing is kind of therapy.  (Even if what I’m writing about has nothing to do with what I’m feeling.  It takes the feelings and converts them into something else.)  So if you don’t have unresolved feelings, or if you’ve shut them down because the world is a shit show, it can be harder to write.

Inspiration is nice, but if you just wait for inspiration to strike, you might be waiting for a very long time.  Some days I don’t feel it, I just sit down and saying,  “I have to write this scene, and I can come back and edit it later, once I’ve laid the bones.”  Sometimes after a rough start, things flow. Sometimes I can get out a few hundred words, but I know it isn’t working, so I do something else.  (Reading books from a genre other than what I am writing is super helpful for me to recharge.)

Outlining can help.  Just write a few lines about what the scene needs to accomplish and what happens.  You probably know your process better than I can guess.

Also, I think a lot about what I plan to write while I’m doing other things, such as running, driving, showering, working, falling asleep.  I low-key have a process going in the background cycling through ideas.  They aren’t all good.  They aren’t necessarily focused.  But I find that if I’ve been kind of brainstorming (or letting idle thoughts trail off into my subconscious), I have an easier time later on when I sit down to write.  Sometimes I just run the outline through my head. 

Example:  “Oh yeah, that needs to happen but it would be boring just to have a meeting.  Oh, and why would that character be there?  I can swap them out or I need a better excuse.  What are they eating?  Does it matter?  Hmm, I’m hungry...” 

It took me years to figure out my process, and it’s worth it to try other things, but this is what works for me.  Hope it helps!