Endymi0ns - A Thing Of Beauty Lasts Forever.

Y/N, leaning on the counter: Hey beautiful, come here often? Simon: Is this the part where I remind you we've been married for four years or do I play along? Y/N: Play along! Simon: Alright. Sorry, I'm not interested, I'm married

two weeks after your second anniversary was when john decided to first break the news to you.

he's a man, he'd told you. always had been, just didn't know how to articulate that until right at that moment. he wanted to transition, to take testosterone, cut his hair, change his name, the works. he'd looked so, so nervous, holding your hand so gently, like he was afraid he might crush your knuckles if he held on as tightly as he wanted to.

just tell me what you need, i'm not going anywhere. you'd said, and he pulled you into his arms and cried into your hair. you meant it, too. you'd cut his hair for him, giving him a smart looking crew cut, and taken him to all of his appointments. new clothes were bought, elderly relatives were spoken to and given boundaries, the works. it was an honor to do it, to be john's support as he ventured into the unknown, traversing new and uncharted waters.

you'd had the absolute privilege of having a front row seat to the transformation of john price. the good, the emotional, all of it. every new step in the process was an adventure, a thrill. the nervous joy about getting the initial consultations set up with the right people. his barely restrained excitement over the patchiest peach fuzz you'd ever seen in your life. the voice memos to himself, recording the changes in his voice and comparing them on occasion. the mood swings, the acne, the bulking up. buying binders, and burning one in celebration a few years later when he no longer needed them, pink crescent-shaped scars adorning his chest. watching the scars get completely covered by thick body hair that covers almost every inch of him. watching him watch himself in the mirror, and seeing the smile at his reflection grow more and more over time.

it's incredible how much his confidence grew, how much more self-assured he felt. the first time someone called him 'sir' at a supermarket he'd rushed home to tell you about it, grinning so wide you thought it might split his face in half. gender euphoria, he'd called it, and you can see why. every time he felt it, whether it was looking good in a shirt post-surgery, getting consistently gendered correctly by strangers, or noticing that the dents in his shoulders from where his bra straps had been were slowly disappearing thanks to the growth of his muscles, the joy he experienced leaked out of the heart of him, dripping onto the floor and flooding the room with it. his happiness, his bone-deep contentment, his elation is infectious, and you're happy to catch it time and time again.

and now here he is, years later, still by your side. a husband this time, not a girlfriend like when you'd started out. the role suits him beautifully, if you're honest. much better than girlfriend ever did. the thought strikes you as you watch him do the dishes, and you can't help but admire the change in him. his beard is a matter of pride, thick and well-groomed, his chest, arms, back, hell, everything, is covered in a thick layer of hair as well. his shoulders are broader, his voice deeper, and his face is more angular. it's nothing short of incredible to watch him become the person he was always meant to be, and a feeling of immense love and pride wells up inside of you, borderline overwhelming.

you stand right next to him, silently wrapping your arm around his waist and kissing his shoulder through his shirt as he rinses a plate from lunch. you can't make the words come out, how much you love him, how much his joy brings you joy, how fucking good he looks, how sexy you think he is, how proud you are of how far he's come. instead you say nothing, opting instead to keep peppering his shoulder with pecks and squeezing his waist, hoping that might get the point across. john just throws you a curious, chuckling smile, right before he gently rests his socked foot on top of yours. no pressure, just resting, his way of holding your hand when his hands are busy. you both stand there for a while in a comfortable quiet, just enjoying being next to each other. john's someone whose company you'll never tire of, never not want desperately. even when you're tired of people and need some time alone, that doesn't include him. john isn't 'people', he's john. the glowing, perfect, singular exception to the rule. and you lucky, lucky thing- he's all yours, according to the rings on your fingers.

"you're so easy to love." you blurt out as john puts the last dish in the drying rack. he grins down at you, the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"so are you, sweetheart." he says, deep voice rumbling, finally wrapping an arm around your big hips and holding you close as you both look out the kitchen window together, watching the birds at the feeder for a while as you soak up each other's company in companionable silence as his foot continues to rest gently on yours.

Hi, this might be a strange request, but could you please do some sort of character analysis, or maybe tell some of your headcanons for the 141 characters??

I’ve been trying to find some, but everything I find is either weirdly out of character or just some sort of weird projection onto the characters 😭

Not strange at all, anon! It just occurred to me that, for a blog dedicated to Ghost, I’ve never done something like this. Also, I understand what you mean, but it’s also important to remember that headcanons are extremely subjective. Maybe the same applies to my case, and someone also finds my headcanons out of character; who knows?

Please note that I can’t say much about the other boys since I’ve only focused on Ghost, so here are some of my headcanons (i.e. that’s how I personally imagine Ghost):

He’s your average, ordinary guy on the outside. Sure, he is stereotypically attractive (tall, beefy, with a deep voice), but so are a billion other people in this world. There’s nothing extraordinary about him, which is precisely what makes him so intriguing.

I like to imagine his personality similarly to how he wears his uniform—layer, under layer, under layer. You want to peel him like an onion; uncover what lies beneath the surface.

He’s extremely pragmatic and values function over form. It doesn’t matter if something looks bad/ugly/weird as long as it gets the job done. If it works, it works.

Moderation gives him a sense of discipline. He wants to control everything that’s within his ability to do so—managing what food he puts in his body, regulating his alcohol intake, handling finances, and even carefully choosing his words. It helps him maintain his sanity, knowing he has control over his life, especially considering what he went through.

He’s also incredibly efficient. He doesn’t waste time on things that aren’t important or beyond his control.

He’s not a gym rat (he doesn’t regard it as a second home), but he’s definitely a regular. The gym owners are familiar with him, though their interactions are brief—maybe they exchanged a few words to renew his membership in the past, but that’s about it.

He tends to stick to the free-weight section at the gym. If it’s crowded, he’ll put on his headphones to tune everything out, but if it’s quiet, he doesn’t bother. While he doesn’t use the machines often, he’ll turn to them occasionally, particularly when he needs more controlled movement.

Warming up before exercising is particularly important to him, and he takes his time to stretch afterwards, usually in an isolated corner of the gym. He never skips leg day.

He is not a flirt. Usually, it’s others who pursue him rather than the other way around. It’s almost like he has it too easy in that department. He doesn’t have to make much effort—he simply goes about his business (occasionally checking his surroundings for potential dangers,) and suddenly, people gravitate towards him. He’s not a fan of this attention but keeps it to himself.

He engages in a flirtatious exchange almost every day with the elderly lady who manages the convenience store in his neighbourhood, though. He often compliments her on her hair and how young she looks and sometimes jokes that if her late husband were still around, he’d have some competition. She, in return, offers him freebies, which he politely declines. However, he sometimes accepts these gestures in exchange for lending a hand with tasks around the store.

His apartment is modest since he travels a lot, yet he considers it his personal haven when he returns to it. He deliberately keeps it free of any traces of his alternate identity. There’s a family photo framed somewhere. Even his dad included. Maybe he considered cutting him out of the picture but decided against it. He wants to be reminded of both the positive and negative experiences that influence his decisions and actions.

He likes to make his own jokes. They mostly come to him when he does something mundane, like cooking, showering, or watching TV. He doesn’t take offence if others don’t laugh at his jokes, though. He simply views them as idiots or lacking a sense of humour.

He opts for public transport only when needed, like during heavy traffic, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. He keeps his back against the wall and doesn’t wear headphones since he wants to be aware of his surroundings.

He breaks fights if he stumbles upon them late at night and calls the police. When the officers arrive, he is the first to talk to them and usually scolds them for not getting there faster.

I don’t think he wears his mask when he’s out and about. In my mind, Simon Riley is different from Ghost. If someone manages to connect the dots, he’ll make sure it’s the last time they do so. For him, good people don’t know who Ghost is. Only bad people do.

He wants to extend his sleeve tattoo further up his arm but struggles to find the time to schedule an appointment with his tattoo artist. Yes, he has a trusted tattoo artist.

i think simon “ghost” riley would love me because i would be so easy to clicker train

simon “i cant do one-night stands because i catch feelings” riley but it’s in an obsessive way.

he realizes how your bodies are so compatible with each other that he begins to track you down to ‘accidentally’ bump into you. but this only ever happens on very specific days—days when fucking sort of becomes the natural next thing to do and who else could be the best option for you when simon, the man who made you cum more than three times within the short hours you two were together, was right there?

and you’re not foolish enough to deny yourself of the razing euphoria that only he could give to you—your bodies locking together, his hand a steady weight on the back of your neck, the other bruising as it gripped your hip, and his cock slammed so far in you that you swear he was hitting places you never knew were your pleasure points—so of course you would choose him. you miss him, after all.

(you miss the way he made you beg. the way he made you cry. he was so perfect. so gentle and kind. but he was also so mean. so dominating and overwhelming.

he was all you ever needed—someone to fuck you right.)

“one more round, yeah?” simon croons, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

your walls clamp down on him at hearing his words, before a garbled whine trickles from your kiss-swollen lips. he watches as your head shuffles against the pillows with your abrupt nods, further muffling your gasped out mewls.

simon giggles, his lips pulled into a grin that is a bite too mean.

seems like he’s fucked you stupid again, huh?

just needed to map out his scars for science reasons, I promise...

Ama Codjoe, from Bluest Nude: Poems; “Bluest Nude”

[Text ID: “I crave. I want to be seen clearly or not at all.”]

Sorry I'm going to be more normal about him

micro sketches with Price & Gaz just warmin' up...

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