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Alm0st-Balkis' Masterlist

Call of duty

Simon Ghost Riley

Post OP

The dress part 1

Drunken confession

Missed anniversary

No mask tonight

The letter

Freedom fighter part 1 | Freedom fighter part 2 | Freedom fighter part 3

Sweet Headcannon

Weak hero class

Geum Seong Je

Time off

Hurt

Avatar

Tsutey

Tsamsiyu

Neteyam

Envy part 1 | Envy part 2 | Envy part 3

Reckless

House of the dragon

Aemond Targaeryen

Fascination part 1 | Fascination part 2 | Fascination part 3

#masterlist #simon ghost riley x reader #geum seong je #fluff #tsutey x reader #kang wooyoung x reader #neteyam x reader

omegaversereloaded

youll be able to find books and movies and music that change your life until the day you die. that's pretty good

allthingswhumpyandangsty

I wanna fuck kimball cho from the mentalist

#balkis rambles ᓚᘏᗢ #kimball cho #the mentalist #i need that man so bad

bpdpoc

I’m a social vampire u gotta invite me into ur conversation or I cannot enter

asiatic-apple

Try not to melt into the kiss challenge

Caleb has always been eager to please—only you, though. He loves that adorably determined look you get on your face when you boss him around.

So he doesn't question it when you instruct him to lift his arms above his head and keep them there. Obedient as ever, he follows your command immediately.

He knows you like to play games at his expense, so he waits for the punchline of whatever this is. He's a bit unprepared when you step closer and loop your arms around his neck.

And then your soft lips meet his.

He almost falls for it, arms faltering for just a second before he stiffens like you're his commanding officer about to catch him slacking off.

Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip, and suddenly it's a struggle to keep his breathing measured. His fists clench and unclench, desperate to grab onto you.

But you told him not to move his arms. And oh, he wants to be good for you—if only to prove a point that he's the best pet boyfriend you could ever ask for.

When your jaw tics just the slightest and you huff softly into the kiss, Caleb knows you're getting frustrated. You must have thought he'd have melted by now.

He can't help his lips twitching in a smile against yours. You've always hated when your little games backfire. So he'll help you out. Even if it means disobeying his colonel's direct orders.

His hands finally find their home, and everything clicks into place. Before you can pull away with a victorious grin, he lifts you up, guiding your legs around his waist as he carries you toward the bedroom.

He steals more kisses the whole way there. You've given him a taste of how he wants to spend the rest of the day, and now there's no take-backs. You should have known this was the only outcome to your game.

It's only when he gently sets you on the bed that he pulls away.

You're far too cute when you attempt a scolding look (he loves when you put him in his place). It's not convincing at all, because he knows you melt for him just like he does for you.

"Calebbb," you grumble, "you were supposed to keep your arms up."

He chuckles, already knowing that's not really what you needed from him. It's okay if you're confused. He'll help you figure out what you really want.

"Yeah?" He shrugs, pretending he misunderstood your rules. Playing games with you is fun, but his eyes are already locked onto their target. He leans in, lips grazing yours again. "Punish me, then."

josephbrassey

Some myths that need debunking because they're being pushed by bots and it’s making me angry:

1. "He's gonna declare martial law!" Okay, so what then? This isn't something you can enforce nationwide on a country of 350 million people with a military that has a combined force of less than 3 million people, including all support and logistics staff. That doesn't equal half the population of Los Angeles. Y'all need to fucking stop acting like we're approaching a mythical point where shit gets "serious." We're already there. People are already being disappeared.

Civilians are already being killed in the streets. We're there. And you know what? They're already getting near the limits of their ability to force compliance. ICE is dedicating a double digit percentage of their manpower to Minneapolis and they're not controlling shit. People are pushing back. Your default response when the administration says "We will force you to do this" shouldn't be "Oh no they're gonna make us do this!" It should be "Fuck you. Make me."

2. "Americans are doing nothing!" I did a post about this recently, but it bears revisiting: I don't know where the hell you're getting this, because everywhere that ICE or other arms of the federal enforcement apparatus go, they are being pushed back on, humiliated, driven out of neighborhoods, and shown the door. People are fighting back on a truly awe inspiring level. Stop assuming that "doing something" looks like an armed mass of civilians storming Washington and fighting the military in a pitched battle. This is movie bullshit. The world has not looked like that since the early 20th century. What you are seeing, right now, is what "doing something" looks like. Stop it stop it stop it. We ARE doing something, in vast numbers.

3. "He's gonna cancel elections!" This one has been pushed by bots for the last year, and big name people have been picking it up, and it frustrates the hell out of me so I'm going to hold your hand and tell you bluntly: He. Cannot. Do. This. There is no mechanism. Elections are controlled by the states, and they decide when they happen. There is no federal mechanism for control of elections. What's Trump gonna do? Post soldiers at every polling place in every swing state? Do you know how many polling places there are in every district? How much manpower this would require? He doesn't have the people to do it. He doesn't have the mechanical ability to do it. There are no tools to execute this plan. Is he gonna try to make elections unfair? You bet your ass, but our elections have never been fair. Voter suppression has always existed and will continue to exist until we fix it... but a blanket ban of elections or even some ability to make them not happen? Lol. He doesn't have the manpower or the means.

But what if he did? Let's game this out: Congress--or at least the House of Representatives--is not a perpetual body. At the end of 2026 the current congress ceases to exist, and the next one isn't convened until the following year. Mike Johnson will cease to be Speaker at the end of the year and wont be Speaker again in '27 unless his party wins a sufficient majority to elect him. Remember if there are no elections then republicans will not have their seats in 2027. There will be no congress, and without congress, Trump does not have a mechanism for governance. I dunno about you, but those Republican reps like having their jobs, their staff, their salaries, and all the perks that come with office. They do not get those if there is no Congress. That is not something they want.

But he said he was gonna! And? So fucking what? He says a lot of things. He issued an executive order at the start of his second term ordering all school districts in the country to immediately cease teaching "DEI" whatever the hell that means. Do you know what most districts that weren't actively kissing his ass said? "That's nice. Make me." And then he didn't, because the states control their own education systems, not Trump. His words don't have the force of law, and are limited by what he actually has levers of power to accomplish. We are **still having elections.** Several happened last week. The States decide this. Trump doesn't.

The Midterms are gonna happen. They're gonna matter and they're gonna have consequences. And you all need to stop acting like he has power over things he doesn't just because he says he does. That's propaganda and you're falling for it.

As with all things Authoritarian, when Trump says "I'm gonna force you to do this," your response should be as I articulated above:

"Fuck you. Make me."

I love you all. Be safe. Don't comply in advance. Don't give them power they don't have just because they say they do.

dykecosette

DO NOT COMPLY IN ADVANCE!

heraelis

via NYPost: Immigration and Customs Enforcement is preparing to launch a “big f–king operation” across sanctuary cities — including Chicago and New York — immediately after President-elect Donald Trump’s inauguration, multiple sources told The Post.

Starting Jan. 21, multi-day “ground operations” will be launched across cities that have served as safe havens for migrants because the local authorities do not cooperate with the federal government when it comes to immigration issues, sources said.

tojisteddy

Natural Blonde | cw: 18+, angst, mentions of depression, death & abuse, ptsd, (loosely) 2009 backstory, 30s Simon, fluff at the end.

‘It’s grown out.’

That’s the first thing that popped up in Simon head as he looked himself in the mirror after four days. Baggy, tired eyes, messy hair with brunette roots— the ambassador of exhaustion.

He needs to get himself in order. Upright. Try. Try and take a step forward instead of letting himself sink further. Simon huffs, going through the cubbord under the bathroom sink, gathering the proper tools.

The bleach, the developer, toner, gloves, a bowl, shower cap, and a brush.

Simon Riley’s saving grace at a time like this.

Dying his hair.

If anyone was concerned, weather it be the recruiter who got him in the military, to his peers that trained with him, to the men and women he trained, to Kyle, to Johnny, to John— the man that guided him through his own head time and time again— Simon was a natural blonde.

Maybe it was a mask, even at his age, deep down, in the far end of his brain, there was that scared and trembling little boy. That little boy that would take the slaps and the punches to protect his brother, the one that could hear the never ended yelling of his parents in the next room over and his mothers cries. The little boy that was just fucking hungry and would creep down the steps to go steal the food that should’ve been given to them.

That damned bleach was, in its own way, a mask that protected him, it protected that little boy that couldn’t do it himself. A sure fire way to prove that he wasn’t a Riley— no— that he wasn’t his father.

With the blonde, he could be a different person. Simon could be that strong person that younger him and his brother needed so desperately— the man that could protect, the man that could speak his mind without hesitating, could hug and love, be strong and provide— do what his father couldn’t do. That’s what Ghost was.

But that mask would shrivel up on its own sometimes.

It’s when Ghost had to be Simon, and no not the one that could give a stupid joke, talk about his favorite film franchise for an hour, who likes quiet jogs with the dogs, take out on Sunday nights, wants to endlessly listen to whatever you had to say because he was eager to hear from you.

It’s the one that can’t stand to look at himself or get out of bed. The one that’s walking in circles in his mind, trudging the weight of that long carried despair since childhood. The one who can’t get the words out, and prays to God you don’t leave him because this isn’t who he wants you to see but he can’t help it.

He hated it. How no matter what he did, no matter how much time had passed, Simon could look in the mirror and see his father’s blue iris’ in his own brown ones. He’d see his fathers over bearing, shadowing build— and now, the fresh strands of brunette that had grown out— his father was right there looking back at him in the mirror.

It made Simons heart jump out, stomach coil— fuck, fuck, fuck, here we go again. There’s a loud ‘boom’ and ‘crash’ that makes Simon’s ears ring, his eyes squeeze shut and it’s like he’s back on the battlefield again. The gunshots, the yelling, the bombs, the sound of a helicopter close by, fire blazing, sounds of agony, but the only difference?

The only real enemy here was his father, and yet, even on this field, was that little boy again. Quivering in fear— hungry, hurt, in need of reassurance.

Simon has to think, fight or flight, he stumbles back from the sink till his back hits the cool tile of the bathroom wall. There’s contemplation, the smallest or small voices whispering in his ear all while he’s seeing his father walking, breathing in the flesh. Those flared nostrils, flushed face and glaring eyes he gave Simon and Tommy when he was about to smash another replaced vase against the wall— perhaps God speaking— ‘hey, it’s alright’ ‘you’re alright.’

A reminder, that there wasn’t a need to be afraid anymore. That Simon could stand on his own too feet and that monster that haunted him, wasn’t him. He wasn’t attached to it, he was long gone and dead. Most likely drunk himself to death. Simon could just be.

Simon dares to open his eyes, just a peek, as if checking like the cost is clear. His brown eyes flicker directly to the floor. He’s still here. In his house. The faucets dripping, the house is creaking like it always does, he can hear the music you like to play trickling it’s way upstairs, the nails of the dogs hitting the scratching up wooden floors, the soft bathroom rug you were so adidment about getting in between his toes— he’s okay.

And even if it’s just for the next moment that he feels this stillness— Simon Riley bathes in it. Wraps himself in it like much needed blanket on a freezing night in an undisclosed safe house.

Simon stands up, gives himself a quick glances at himself— and only himself— in the mirror before getting in the shower. He doesn’t know how long he stays in there, but he’s refreshed and squeaky clean when he gets out. He slides a pair of clean sweatpants on, gathers the materials that sat on the bathroom sink and heads down the stairs of the second floor.

Your eyes snap towards those heavy footsteps from the couch, your dogs, Slugger and Fish, already up and eager to circle around him since they haven’t seen him up in days.

“Hi.” You say softly, giving him a quick glance. Better.

“Hi.” And it’s just as soft, weary and deep, but there.

He clears his empty throat, slightly nervous, and gesture to the small pile of objects in hands, “Mind helpin me?”

And it’s the signal, an ‘I’m okay right now’ and you grasp at it like a flag in flag football.

You give him a lazy smile and a shrug, “never gotta ask.”

And it’s like you two are back in routine again, together without a misstep. Simon’s hands rubbing and holding onto your waist as you start bleaching his hair. Only you could see the man this raw, bones and all, everything that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley was and wasn’t. touching your thighs as you stand between his legs in the kitchen, getting a sense of you as if you changed while he was stuck in his own mind. But you’re constant, just as you’ve always been, smearing every root of his scalp with the mixture that was in the bowl while humming some Kacey Musgraves song. Helping Simon put the pieces back together. Just as he’s done with you.

“You look so nice Si.”

You’ve rinsed the toner out after the long process, Simons drying his hair with a towel, the blonde fresh and perfect on him. Sun glistening on him through the kitchen shades, face damp, a few lashes with water in them. He’s practically shining. A natural blonde.

“Thanks baby.”

a/n: I’m indulging myself by getting angsty but this is dog shit and no one’s reading this.

alm0st-balkis

loved this

#balkis recommends <3

Im so down bad for Xavier… He’s so kind and gentle