Ghost On His Leave As A Caretaker Of Random Kids That Saw Him And Said "mhm, Yep, That Scary, Scarred

I know most people don't care about anything unless it has to do with the U.S. but can we please start talking about the Canadian election.

Please don't vote for Poilievre. He's basically the Canadian Trump and plans to put in place laws that harm trans youth, and lots of other shit.

Please vote istg this is the only way anything will get better. Poilievre has been kissing millionaires and billionaires asses. He'll make life even harder, and he loves Trump.

Reblogs are appreciated, especially if you aren't Canadian.

made more of these. now featuring Claire and Jody ‼️

Hope this cheers someone up

soap, somewhere in the base: "CAPTAIN GARRICK IN THE HOUSE!!!"

More of Kyle "Gaz" Garrick because I can't stop drawing him.

I couldn't decide on one angle so u get both :)

Price is fighting for his life to stay my number one rn.

Fellas, what do we think about OCs that are just self inserts? Asking for no reason...

Simon always had one hand on Johnny, whether it was placed on his shoulder or a finger around the belt loop on his pants

To some, it might seem like the lieutenant was in charge, holding a dog on a lease

When the real reason was, Simon was very touch-starved, and it was his way of clinging to Johnny

Simon was the clingy puppy in the relationship

thinking about getting a little too drunk w husband!simon…

he’s already a super possessive guy, but your drunken antics are only making it ten times worse.

sure, coming to the bar was his idea. it was only fair, after such a long week at work, that he got to have a nice dinner on the town and a few beers shortly after. even better that he got to do it with his pretty fucking wife, you know?

yeah, he watched you slip into the tightest, smallest dress you had, curl your hair into pretty little coils, and push and pull at everything else out of place. he saw the too tall black pumps you choose— the one’s he got you for your anniversary that make your legs look model-length long. he even saw the way your black lace bralette played peek-a-boo along your dress’s neckline.

all of it only made him more excited.

getting to show you off on the town? his sweet, sexy little woman all done-up and pretty, hanging off his arm like his little trophy? god, he was practically hard before you two could reach the front door.

the second that liquor hit your system, though, was the second all hell broke loose.

at this point in the night, you’re long past the idea of sitting pretty, eating your food, and posing for pictures. now, you’re feeling good. a little tipsy, or maybe even drunk. all the shyness or docile little feelings from the beginning of the night are gone.

now, you wanna dance. you wanna throw your arms up and sway with the other bar-goers, and why shouldn’t you be able to?

you didn’t mind the way your dress rode up your thighs, giving the wrong people an eyeful of your goods. you hadn’t noticed the men who’d run their hands over you, every so often passing by with their crotch just a little too close to your ass. all you were focused on was the music, how good you felt, and when your next shot was coming.

if only you had paid attention to the damn near menacing stare simon had you under. something that rivaled a madman’s with its intensity.

he’d held back for the first few songs, letting the angel on his shoulder telling him to ease up guide him. sure, he still stood around like an unamused body guard, sending glares to the gawking men and buying your drinks whenever you asked. maybe occasionally he’d get a cute picture or video of you too. that was just what came with the simon o’riley type though.

it wasn’t until you got to the flirty territory, grinding your ass into him with the music or kissing him with a little too much tongue, that he decided to pull the plug.

and god, did you always give him attitude for it.

“i’m not ready to leave, simon,” you’d whine, eyes glossed over and face screwed up in that cute little way you only do when you’re aggravated.

“i want another drink,” but you’re slurring and stumbling already.

“just keep kissing on me, baby,” you protest as he grabs your discarded shoes and purse and starts leading you towards the exit.

he’s sweet with you at first, given how drunk and cute you truly are. sure, you may have triggered his possessiveness early, but you’re batting your eyelashes up at him and clinging onto him for dear life. how could he not talk to you softly? how could he not kiss you back as he tugged your dress back down?

“it’s alright, lovie. let’s get home and i’ll take such good care of you.”

you start trying to fight him though and you’ll see how thin his patience truly is.

doing things out of spite? pulling his hands away from you while he’s trying to guide you down the street? arguing with him through your half-coherent sentences? cursing him under your breath just loud enough that he can hear it?

you’re getting yourself in trouble and you’re too drunk to know it.

he was prepared to let your little outbursts slide. wouldn’t hold it against you and still keep his plans straight for the night.

after all you’d done, he was still gonna get you home, slip off those stockings and undo those zippers. dedicate the rest of the night to making you feel all good like how you’d begging him too.

but you just can’t keep that pretty little mouth shut, can you?

“don’t make it worse for yourself.” he’d warn, grabbing your face from its resting place against his passenger-side window, “you’ve already fucked up enough as is, yeah?”

his voice is gruff and his jaw is set, but his eyes don’t leave yours for a second.

you’ll be making it up to him all night long, and he’s gonna be anything but nice now ;)

He's being domesticated guys

A little break before we go on with Nikto

Masterlist

Something something Gaz as a soccer scholarship student in his third year at the university you work at. He’s the model student athlete; excelling both on and off the field. He’s already in a frat, accepted by the brothers and happily indulging in the American hedonism that is Greek life. 

He’s undecided in his major, just kind of flitting around until he has enough credits to graduate. He knows he’s smart so he’s on the Dean's List he’s just… bored. 

He was passing by one of the large message boards in the frat house when he sees a flyer for your class. Some foofy English elective focusing on 18th and 19th century British and Irish literature. The descriptions touts a deep dive into some of the most popular novels. He doesn’t pay much attention to the flyer or class again until his advisor tells him he’s a credit short for an English major and he decides that since he’s in for a penny, he’s in for a pound, and adds your class to his schedule. 

When the semester starts up he’s expecting a little old woman to hobble in with skirts trailing down to the floor and gray hair that isn’t much shorter. So imagine his surprise when you walk in; closer to his age than not and fresh out of a PhD program with a beaming smile. You dive into the syllabus with such gusto that it’s impossible for him to not be excited about the course material. 

He also happens to note that he’s the only male in the class- the rest of the chairs taken up by girls that have had English decided as their major since before they were admitted to the school. So it only makes sense that your eye catches him the most, naturally drawn to the confident sprawl he sets himself into when he’s sitting in your seminar.

Gaz enjoys the way you flitter around the room and talk about each book as if the entire meaning to life was filtered away into it’s pages. Suddenly Frakenstein and Pride and Prejudice have new meaning, and he’s flying through Dorian Grey as he sits in the frat house common room with the noise of football playing in the background. He keeps a book with him so during practice he can continue to read, much to his coach’s displeasure. 

He completes all his work on time and is a model student, even going so far as to help the others in class if needed. You see this all from your table in the front, and he sees you seeing him. 

It’s all calculated really; he makes sure to you can see him as he offers his assistance or when he raises his hand to express a point in a simpler way. You’re impressed, and tell him so one day when it’s only the two of you left in the room. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says back to you, brown eyes sparkling. You swore you could see some color dust high on his cheeks. 

So, it came as a surprise when he asked you to cubby away some office hours for him regarding an essay he was having issues with. You had thought that of all your students, Kyle would be the last one to need help. But you agree, and let him know you made time for him on your late day so he could come straight from training. 

He’s military precision punctual and shows up to your office that night covered in a sheen of sweat. You make some comment about letting him know a shower was an important enough reason to be late and he just smiles, eyes crinkling. 

It’s anyone’s guess how you ended up having his tongue halfway down your throat with the door barely shut behind him. 

Well, you could have guessed but it still felt taboo. Sure he was 21 but still, you were in a position of power over him as his professor. And you tell him such as he grips your face in a bruising kiss. He just laughs, moving to grab your legs and plop you down so you’re sitting on your desk with your legs spread wide and open for him. He lets you whine about decency and rules until he’s had enough, and then promptly sticks his face between your legs to shut you up. 

He leaves later that night, wiping his damp face with his already sweat soaked shirt while you hastily readjust the sweater dress you had been wearing. As you round the desk to get your purse you notice that your panties that he had taken off, with his teeth no less, were missing from their hasty hiding place. Heaving a sigh, you fall into your office chair and contemplate a transfer. 

Halfway back to his room, Gaz fiddles with the stolen panties in his pocket, thinking about applying for that summer English internship he saw advertised in your office.

GAZ NEEDS MORE LOVIN EXPRESS NOW CALLING FOR BOARDING!!