#you asked for more of this so here ya go

[vien05]

Hm? What's that?

[childrenofcain-if]

How many hookup options are there? There's K, there's T from the figure skating route, are there going to be more?

i want to make sure that the hookups don’t feel half-assed so i’m not going to add too many people in the roster. as of now there’s:

kyle/kyra tømmeraas [exclusive to d/w route]

tarun/tara gurung [exclusive to ice skating route and to MCs who are either non-binary/opposite sex]

evan/eva vaughan

shawn beauchamp

lillian trịnh

[luckyemo]

IN SEARCH OF: KAMUKOMA CHARM

Hi! If anyone is re-selling this kamukoma charm I would love to purchase it! I just found out after waiting for 4 months (after being given an expected 1-4 week processing time on an purchase that wasnt a pre-order...........) that I can't get the one I bought directly from the artist and already paid for 😔☹️😟😢😭 so the next best thing I can do is find a second-hand re-seller unfortunately

[sh1nsoukoku]

Pls tell me all dazai autism traits in ur list

OMG I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED, yes yes yes…

I want to preface this by saying this is in no means supposed to be canon facts or a diagnosis, I just think he is a very autistic-coded character coming from my own experiences as an autistic adult!

Long post under the cut because I don’t know how to stfu!!!

We will start with my main reasoning:

As we know, Dazai and his ability are based off of the work No Longer Human. Dazai being similar to the main character Yozo. Yozo is a kind of “stand in” for the real life author Osamu Dazai as No Longer Human contains a lot of real events from the author’s life. BSD Dazai and Yozo’s main similarities are the disconnection from others and high masking. Here are two quotes from the book:

“All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest. It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people. What should I talk about? How should I say it? - I don’t know.”

This is incredibly similar to the lived experiences of Autistic people. I used to feel like an alien, or just fundamentally different than others. We tend to also struggle with communicating and other social dynamics. Dazai feels isolated from others, let’s very few people close, and searches for meaning by observing other humans and life and death itself. He quotes this as his reason for joining the Mafia. He also processes emotion differently, at odds with people around him.

“I managed to maintain on the surface a smile which never deserted my lips; this was the accommodation I offered to others, a most precarious achievement performed by me only at the cost of excruciating efforts within.”

This is one of the best descriptions I have read of Autistic Masking. Dazai HIGHLY masks. Dazai is known for not showing his true thoughts/feelings/opinions often in BSD. He can code switch easily, serious in one moment and then covering it with his over the top silly/unusual/maniacal personality. In NLH this is described as “clowning.” I also think Dazai’s genius “always according to plan” thing is sometimes a mask, so he doesn’t show the fact that he’s working hard to pull strings and figure things out.

He does have some insane pattern recognition though which is also an autistic attribute!

And now for the more surface level reasons:

Repetitive Behavior/Media Consumption: Dazai reads the same book over and over again. The Ultimate Guide to Suicide is a book he’s had with him since his PM days and he tells Atsushi that he already knows everything it says because he’s read it hundreds of times. A very common autistic trait!

Restricted Diet: Dazai seems to have a limited diet consisting of alcohol and canned crab! It’s a same food/safe food he has often. His room was described to be full of discarded cans of crab and bottles. Limited diets are common in autistic people.

Stimming: Dazai stims! He is a very wiggly and stimmy person. There’s several scenes where he is seen humming and singing or making little silly noises.

Dazai and his headphones are so important to me.. he seems to wear them frequently around the office. It could be noise cancelling or auditory stimulation that he likes.

The man never sits normally on a chair which is something I think a lot of neurodivergent people can relate to.

And of course floor time! Shown by him rolling around when stressed, laying on the rooftop and a few instances in Wan! like the marshmallow scene.

Also you can’t tell me that this is not two burnt out autistics after overworking their brains…

[echosong971]

I DONT KNOW WHAT LIES OF P IS BUT KEEP DRAWING THAT BOY PLEASE I BEG

OKAY o7

[fidgetspringer-art]

So a while ago now I started writing this little AU story where Martin is an ADV rider instead of a homebody-hermit and the two of them meet out on the road. I really like the concept of this story and I might do some art for it in the near future, so i'm gonna share a snippet of it that I don't hate c:

-

Noah is still willing his hands to quit shaking when the adventure bike pulls into the small and, up until now, desolate patch of dry grass he’s in.

The bike pulling in isn’t much of a surprise, he’s heard the sound of the engine slowly approaching for a while now, the old gravel road only leading it closer, and he’d spent that time praying that whoever was on it would simply continue past.

No such luck.

Noah looks up when the rider kills the engine. It starts ticking almost immediately, the cold evening air cooling the metal quickly. The bike is big, Noah’s seen a good few of these machines on the road, even more so in recent years. This one is tall and bulky and shiny, but not new, Noah can tell that much, his eyes automatically seeking out the places where paint is chipped off or the fairings are scratched. It’s well cared for but equally well used.

Noah’s hand instinctually reaches out for the hilt of his knife where it’s resting in the grass by his knee. He’d set up his little makeshift camp less than an hour ago, digging through his saddle bags with hands that refused to stop trembling with residual adrenaline. He’d been ripping into his food rations when the stranger had intruded on his space.

The stranger slides off his bike with practised ease, trusting that his kickstand will take its weight.

He stands there for a second, watching.

At least Noah thinks it’s a man, it’s hard to tell under all the riding gear, but they’re tall and broad and they move in a way that set alarm bells ringing in Noah’s head.

Noah knows he’s staring, glaring might be a better word, but he doesn’t care. He’s alone with this stranger in the middle of nowhere, his helmet is tucked into his tent behind him, the tent that is currently tethering his bike to the ground. There’s no easy escaping, not if he wants to leave half his stuff behind and risk damaging his bike.

Any other day he’d be down for a fight, maybe even eager for it, but not today. He knows the stranger can see the bruises marring his face. The blood hastily wiped away from his eye where it had previously been streaming down from his scalp. He’s dizzy, and he’s worn down to the bone, and if this stranger wants to be an issue there is fuck all Noah can do to stop him.

The stranger stands eerily still for a little too long. Long enough that Noah’s pulse picks up, wondering what is going on inside that helmet. His hand is fully on the knife now, fingers tight around the hilt, he’s got it tucked up against his thigh but at this angle he has no doubt the stranger must have noticed.

As if reading the tension radiating off of Noah, the stranger looks away and instead turns his attention to the various bags and crates loaded onto the back of his own bike. He’s still got his visor down, so Noah has yet to get a good look at him, but the fact that he’s no longer staring at him is enough to lower Noah’s shoulders for the moment.

The man starts pulling items out of his baggage. Noah recognises the camp stove immediately. He’s always wanted one but so far he hasn’t been able to find one he can afford. He glances down at his own rations, the stale bread and dry instant noodles he has no way of boiling. He usually just lets them soak in cold water until they’re soft enough to eat, it’s not exactly a gourmet meal but it’s fine.

He watches the stranger, arms loaded up with items, turn and scan the area. Noah and his bike are taking up the prime real estate, the outskirts of the spot is dotted with taller grass while the patch Noah is in is almost barren.

For a second Noah is worried the stranger is going to come closer, it would make the most sense, to set up his burner where the ground is less uneven and where there’s less foliage around, but instead of intruding, or even asking, the biker seems to notice Noah’s shoulders draw up and he glances around at the rest of the available space instead. He finds a spot he apparently deems acceptable and kneels down, gently setting his items out in an organised sort of chaos.

Finally the man pulls his helmet off.

And it is a man, Noah was right. He looks a little older than him, a little bit of grey streaking through the hair by his ears. His hair is lighter on top than it is further down, and his beard is darker too, where it doesn’t have silver mixed in at least.

Noah is still staring. Even though the guy has decided to keep a respectful distance, he’s still too close to Noah for comfort. He’s less than three paces away and Noah is already wondering how on earth he’s going to get any sleep if this stranger decides to stay the night here.

Noah jumps at the sudden rumble of a deep voice. “You alright?”

He’s looking back at him now, the hint of a concerned crease between his eyes. “You crash out?”

Abruptly Noah remembers that half his face is still streaked with blood, not to mention the rapid swelling threatening to close up his left eye.

“No.” He says, keeping his voice even, relieved when it doesn’t waver, despite how woozy he’s feeling.

The stranger huffs and focuses back on his task of assembling his camp stove. He’s got a couple bags of what seems to be freeze dried hiking rations, the fancy expensive kind that comes in a hundred absurd flavours. He pours water into the pot from a water jug and gets the gas going.

“Looks like you’ve taken a beating.” He says next, not looking up from where he’s now slicing some kind of cured meat into chunks. The smell of it is carried over to Noah on the breeze and his poor stomach grumbles at the scent.

“Probably cause I have.” His voice comes out less steady this time and he hates when the man turns to him, obviously having noticed. He looks Noah up and down, assessing him.

Noah knows he looks bad, he doesn’t feel all that great either, but there’s no way in hell he’s about to let this guy know just how bad of a shape he’s in.

In an attempt to distract from the obvious, Noah sets to work tearing open the wrapping on his noodles. Thankfully the noise and movement is enough to draw the stranger’s eye away from his face. He’s sure he’s being judged for his poor excuse for a meal, but he’s not exactly made of money, especially not right now.

“You get robbed?” The question takes Noah by surprise but he plays it off.

“No.”

A beat of silence. “You try to rob someone?”

“You gonna stop asking stupid questions?”

For some reason that earns him a huff and the hint of a smile.

They prepare their respective meals in silence. Noah trying to not drool at the smell drifting over to him when hot water is poured into one of the packs of hiking rations. To Noah’s neglected stomach it smells like a restaurant.

He notices the stranger watching him out the corner of his eye when he snaps his dry noodles into his only still-intact travel bowl. He also notices the way he opens his mouth as if to say something when Noah unceremoniously dumps the remains of the cold water in his bottle over the noodles, followed by the spice mix. He doesn’t speak up though, just looks unhappily down into his own meal as he stirs it through.

Noah inhales his noodles before they’ve even gotten a chance to soften up as much as he usually does. His stomach is still rumbling when he’s done, so he reaches for his bread. It’s so stale it’s bordering on questionable, but he doesn’t find any mold on it so he figures it’s still fine.

He takes one bite and immediately regrets it. It’s rock hard and there’s an off taste to it, way past being edible. With a barely suppressed sigh he stuffs it back into the bag and chucks it vaguely in the direction of his backpack. He’ll just empty it into the bushes in the morning for the scavengers to find.

Noah blames the persistent ringing in his ears for the fact that he doesn’t realise there’s a person now standing right in front of him.

Instinct takes over, pushing Noah to his feet, knife in hand. He would probably be intimidating if not for the fact that as soon as he’s upright he starts listing to the side, dizziness overwhelming him. His head swims dangerously as black spots fill his vision, the ringing in his ears turns deafening.

“Hey woah!” The voice sounds far away, almost entirely drowned out by the cotton in Noah’s head. “Careful. How ‘bout you sit back down. There you go.”

Noah can feel hands on him and he wants to fight them, but he also realises that those hands holding him up is the only reason he’s not in a heap on the ground right now. He’s not so much sitting back down as he is being lowered to the ground. “You with me?” the voice asks again.

He’s sure he comes up with some eloquent answer, even if he’s not quite sure what that is. His vision is still swimming, but at least he’s now back to sitting down, even if the dirt below him feels strangely far away under his hands.

Whatever it is he said must not have been what the stranger had wanted to hear. “Hit your head pretty hard didn’t you?” He’s being propped up against the side of his bike, which he’s grateful for, he’s not sure he could stay sitting upright on his own, and weirdly letting his head fall back against the familiar weight helps to settle him a little bit.

“Wasn’t me that hit it, some other asshole did.” he croaks.

That also doesn’t seem to be what the stranger wants to hear and now he’s got a pitying look on his face that makes Noah want to punch him.

“You should be in the emergency room.”

Noah scoffs. “I’m fine.”

The man is hovering. He’s taken a step back, just outside of Noah’s personal bubble, but he’s still far too close for comfort. Noah wants him to fuck off already. He’d been considering packing his stuff and leaving if it looked like they would be sharing the camping spot for the night, but now Noah knows there’s no way he’s getting back on that bike any time soon.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

Noah glares, willing him to go away. “Literally just now.”

“When’s the last time you ate real food.”

Noah doesn’t say anything. That seems to be answer enough.

He’s had a rough go of it lately, money is running low and he’s had no luck picking up work in any of the towns he’s been through. Stealing food out of restaurant dumpsters is a good way to give yourself food poisoning, and when you’re essentially homeless that isn’t the sort of thing you want to be dealing with.

The stranger heaves a sigh and blessedly walks away. Noah lets his head knock back against his bike and winces at the way it makes his whole skull ache.

[doctorho]

Hello hi hope you’re doing well hehehe IFFFFFF you ever did wanna write for Jayce I nad an idea.....l've seen posts about people wanting more fics of a more buff fem reader LIKE HELL YEAH (Cuz | workout) and l just love the idea of Jayce being into a buff girl (or guy) (or gn because I know you write a lot of gn stuff!!) cuz we know this man is such a sub sometimes and I know he'd get so so flustered if he saw you working out. He'd definitely wanna feel you flex in his hand and maybe workout with you but he might combust if you ever asked him to join you. Even if you're shorter than him he'd feel so shy around you and he'd just be so CUTSEY and blah I just want a large muscular man to fall at my feet is that too much to ask for?

sorry it took me Literally Forever to get to this, but... yeah.

look, jayce got his muscles mostly from working at the forges (and... genetics, i guess), and logically, he knew that people who were muscular typically did something to get or at least maintain those muscles, and subsequently were able to do some work that required muscles, he knew that. he just hadn't, you know. considered it. before. in his head. he hadn't thought about it.

so he was not prepared to see you hauling some goddamn ten-feet-long steel beams around the lab like it was nothing. he has to wait for the cogs in his brain to do a full circle as he registers this, takes in the sight of your disgarded jacket and the fucking muscles rippling under your skin as you lifted another one of those beams up on one shoulder, already turning to apparently carry them on to the storage.

the beams are visibly heavy, heavy enough to slowly bend at the ends just a little under their own gravity, and then slowly waver with your movement as you straighten your stance. and you do it with the damn ease of lifting the coffee pot, just, you know, casually hauling these goddamn steel beams around for him, no big deal, just some light work around the lab.

those beams probably weighed like a good percentage of how much he did. and you're just! picking one up! and throwing it around! god, you don't even look like it's hard.

and he's just standing there, gathering the remains of his brains from the gutter.

"Viktor said these need to be moved," you tell him as a way of explanation over your shoulder.

"What?" he asks, with all of one brain cell sparking to life.

you smile at him over the beam, and oh, that should be illegal. "These were delivered today, Viktor said they should be in there," you explain, nodding towards the open door.

Jayce opens his mouth. and then closes it.

"Ah." he says. "Yes."

the pinnacle of thought, he thinks with an internal sigh, ladies and gentlemen, jayce talis, genius of the people. whose brain turns to mush at the sight of-

power.

well, can you blame him?

gods, it's not as if it's a leap to go from 'this person is attractive and demonstrates enough skill and strength and muscle control -because that was the difficult part, wasn't it, control- that they could probably throw you around like a sack of potatoes' to 'i think i would enjoy that' because-

he can hear you place down the steel beam with a clang that sounds like it wasn't the first of many.

and then you re-emerge from the storage room dusting off your hands against each other, cleaning them of what he could imagine to be metallic dust and leftover packaging fibres from the beams.

something in jayce, unfairly, purrs at the sight. curls into itself at the pit of his stomach. paws at him from there, tugging at the base of his spine.

he decides to ignore this as best as he can, and instead, takes a breath. "let me help you," he says, then shakes his head a little, "this isn't even your job in the first place."

you just shrug with a grin, and help him pick up one of the beams as he hauls it up on his shoulder. it was heavy, and, annoyingly, his brain decides to use this to cement his earlier hypothesis about your strength.

he hadn't thought you weak before, not by any means, he just... hadn't seen you in action, so to speak.

he takes a deep breath. steels his core, lifts with his legs.

"I just wanted to help," you answer, "besides, i could use the workout."

Jayce exhales a laugh, before composing himself again. "alright," he shrugs off the beam and places it on the pile of others, and you soon follow.

as you place down your own beam, he helps. it's easier to balance it with two pairs of hands, and the sound of it hitting the pile is softer this time.

he can see some oil stains on your shirt where the beams had rested against your shoulder, and a part of him winces at it. that'd be difficult to get out. the oil their metal parts usually came coated in was.

you're just straightening your shirt and smiling at him. like you're at home in their stupid storage room, helping him with this like it's a given. he didn't even ask.

"still," he says, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his brain into something in semblance of reasonable, "thank you." he exhales, and means it. "let me make it up to you," he continues, and he means that, too.

"do you want to like," he says, his words suddenly feeling sticky and stupid and too big for his mouth, "get coffee or something?" he exhales, then, "my treat," he adds, before he can even inhale.

you grin at him, and dust off your hands again, and oh, his spine is liquefying. cool. nice. great. he wanted to be a puddle anyway.

[telesodalite]

Hey, uh? Any scavengers fans wanna share their fav headcanons?

[bitternace]

Any number? 23 and saïx :)

couldn't count all the ways that i've died for you

[ID: a digital drawing of saix from kingdom hearts. He is shown from the hip up, his body in 3/4's and his face in profile. He is shadowed in warm tones. He has a neutral expression, and he's standing straight.

The background is transparent except for a circle that lays from the middle of his shoulders and upwards, with three sections that have a slightly bigger circumference where one to three, seven to eight, and eight to nine would be on a clock. All scenes are blue tones with a noise overlay. these three are all from saix's perspective.

In the first, there is a cloaked figure shown from the waist down, the tip end of young xehanort's keyblade leans forward and some of it goes out of bound, tiled floor as a background. The second one is saix's hand reaching for kingdom hearts. The third is his hand reaching towards Lea, who lies on the floor of radiant garden's lab.

The rest of the circumference is a labyrinth wall in keyblade's graveyard, with a harsh diagonal line of light on the upper half. Most of the circumference is lined black, except from nine to one o'clock, lined white. /End ID.]

[kanene-yaaay]

Oh yeah! This march 3rd (tomorrow :D) I will be participating of the whole qsmp language day so I will be talking and posting here in portuguese again! (gosh, it's been like, what? Years since I've done that kjhgfrfgthuj). So, please! Feel free to send asks in your native language too! It can be about anything! Ask about headcanons, curiosities about one of my fanfics, your thoughts on a character, my wips or if you just want to ramble about something you like feel free as well!! I will be rebloging one or two Ask Games too, for more options.

It can get confusing since I rb a bunch of things but my current fandoms are:

Qsmp

Poppy Playtime 3

Sousou no Frieren

ATLA

BNHA

Mp100

Sanders Sides

PJO

I'm more active on the 3 first ones but I am always glad to ramble about the rest! Feel free to ask about any other you've seen here too.

Just for clarification: I won't be acepting any writing requests, both for fanfics or for making a list of tickle hcs about a certain character, but I am glad to talk about ideas for future fics, my fav hcs about x character and simple stuff like that, hope it doesn't sound too confusing!

[miabrown007]

mal in the grishaverse is to alina what jacob in twilight has been to bella. in this essay i'll...

[earanie]

.

[kellystar321]

.

[13eyond13]

omg I love fury road!!! I know next to nothing ab the lore but the movie is just so good at turning all of the boring stuffy history into the Actual Problems the characters face which. real. anyways ppl who r passionate ab fury road should be allowed to run for president.

YES anon exactly you get it I never get tired of admiring it hahaha

[gaysindistress]

Things Simon Riley says

Masterlist

Nothing.

This man is silent all of the time.

It’s unsettling.

You almost think he’s mute because of how eerily silent he is literally all of the time.

(You had also thought he was deaf so you attempted to sign really badly and John lost his shit laughing. “He can hear just fine love. He’s just an arsehole.”)

John is your personal translator for the first few months and can somehow read Simon’s expressions while you slowly figure it out.

Which leads to the first time he does speak around you.

Simon, his voice hoarse and low from no use, greeting you for the first time as he walks into John’s house, “good ta see ya.”

Simon shaking his head and chuckling at your wide and startled eyes.

Simon slowly saying more and more to you, sometimes it’s a simple, “how are ya today?” and other times it’s your name in that baritone gruff voice that heats up your face.

Simon grumbling at Johnny when he attempts to sit beside you at dinner one night, “no, move.”

Simon glaring at him and uttering the simple two words again.

Simon quietly saying, “food’s good,” to you as you all finish your meal and you nearly choke on your food thanking him.

Simon correctly the guys when they refer to you as ‘John’s neighbor’, “she’s got a name. Use it.”

Simon barking out, “10 more laps for that shit” when they’re all doing PT and Johnny pops off about how he might ask out “John’s cute little neighbor.”

Simon sending you a text one day that reads “dinner tonight? I’ll cook.”

Simon making causal conversation as he methodically prepares ramen for you two, the hulking man taking up your entire kitchen, “How long ‘ave ya lived here?”

Simon blocking you entering the kitchen when you try to clean up with a stern , “no sit down and eat. I cooked so I’ll clean up.”

Simon keeping your weekly dinners up for months until he has to go on a mission and before he leaves the last time, he places a kiss on the corner of your lips while whispering “I’ll be back. 6 months tops. Take pictures of everything you make and we’ll make together when I get back.”

[partiallysame]

Ghost gets no bitches and he reminds me of whatever that TikTok audio is that’s like “how’d you get her?” And the other person is like “get her? No she grabbed me by the throat and told me I was hers”.

Word count: 800

Warnings: none (ghost being immediately whipped)

So hear me out you’re at the grocery store and while walking down the aisles you see this behemoth of a man. Big muscle sexy, surgical mask covering his face. You want. What to say? How should you approach? Ah yes you need help getting something from the top shelf. Stepping so you’re in his line of sight

“Could you come here?” You ask him and he just gives you a blank stare. Raising your eyebrows clearly waiting for a response he turns around looking for who you could be talking to and who is clearly not listening to you. When he sees no one else in the aisle he slowly points at himself, questioning you. “Yes you.” You smile trying to hold in a laugh. Quickly adding a “please” in the sweetest little voice and he is scurrying over to you.

“Could you please reach that box for me?” Ghost raises his arm up and points to a box when you nod confirming that’s the one you want he hands it to you. “That one too please” he obeys. You have him hand you two more boxes (not needing any of them). Then you try to push your luck a little. “Wait not this one” you hand him a box back and he returns it to the shelf. Before you know it you’ve had this man put all the boxes back just to hand them to you again. A smirk plastered on your face. Not once did the large man question you, not when you were looking up at him with those pretty eyes.

“Ok done with this aisle. Come on.” You start walking and his feet are following you. He hasn’t said a word to you but is following you around the store like a puppy. Down the next aisle you pointed at something (well within your reach) and he handed it you.

“Are you always this obedient?” You watched his eyes go wide but he found himself nodding. He’d probably say yes to anything you ask when you’re looking at him like that, like you want to eat him whole. His answer brought a smile to your face and he swore his knees were gonna buckle. You held out your hand, “phone.” It was a statement not a question and he quickly (fumbling) pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. When you saw it was locked you looked up at him moving the phone ever so slightly towards him. You had meant for him to take the phone and unlock it but instead he mumbled out “0000” a small but dramatic gasp left your lips “oh so he does speak.” You typed in the 4 digits and the phone opened. You looked up at him when the basic passcode worked. “Simple and obedient. Just how I like ‘em” ghost swallowed hard. No one has ever treated him like this. Spoke to him like this. Not even Price. He should be offended? Insulted? Definitely not turned on. Right? (mark him down and scared AND horny). You handed his phone back to him, your number and name resting on his screen. He reached to take the phone from you, but you didn’t let go. Fingers touching you looked up at him “you better call me. I’ll be real sad if you dont.” He swore he was gonna pass out. Before you let go of his phone, hands still touching, heavy steps made their way into your aisle.

“Aye lieutenant there ye are. Been wandering round lookin fer ya.” Soap called down the aisle.

Ghost refused to acknowledge his friend calling for him, keeping eye contact with you. Your smile got bigger as you let go of the phone.

“Lieutenant huh? That mean you know how to give orders too?” He nodded again. “Then I’m definitely going to need you to call me. I’d like to see that.” Your eyes shamelessly raked down his figure. Fuck he needs to hold on to something.

Once you finally walked away, Soap approached quickly asking who you were and when ghosted shrugged his shoulders “I don’t know.” (But he’s gonna that’s for sure)

“She’s a fine looking lass I’m gonna go talk to her.” Ghost’s hand moved fast, grabbing the back of Soap’s neck guiding (pushing) him in the opposite direction of you. He was thanking god you saw him first and not Soap. If you had talked to Soap like that, ghost knew you’d have him walking on a leash (who’s he kidding if you had asked ghost would’ve barked)

Part 2 Part 2.5 part 3