#phasmasum

@phasmasum ──

what would you do if i said yes? lights out.

Anything. Everything. The answers come so quick to mind that they push out nearly everything else - a tidal wave come to wipe the sandy shore free of nonsensical scribblings. Ghost has that effect on him, Ghost has always had that effect on him, and he's just now starting to realize why. Just starting to understand the depths of his affection for the man, and the things that he would do for him. The sins that he would commit in his name alone.

It's a scary realization. One that haunts his nights and days, one that has him doubting himself at his core... But it's not something he feels like he can let go of.

Gary Sanderson has always had problems with letting go, and this - this affinity for his lieutenant, it had buried itself too deep to be carved out by anyone's hands - his own or someone else's.

There's marks from his teeth in his bottom lip when he finally lets it go, two little indents made in chapped skin. Pink dusting his cheeks as he raises and lowers his shoulders and looks away, his gaze darting off to look at something else before returning whip-quick to his CO. Damnation to be found in the way he can't look away, barely disguised with a glance to Ghost's hands. Pretending to be looking for more sign when he knew the other man was still waiting for his own reply.

'I -' His hands flounder, falter. Freeze in the middle of a reply he hasn't even planned. What had they been talking about again? What had he asked for? Training? Instructions? No. Something stupid and adrenaline fueled, something prompted by the memory of office drinks, and the high off of praise from a good sparring session.

Are you free for drinks later?

a  frustrated  sigh  leaves  her,  finally  detaching  the  last  piece  from  its  home  component,  the  screwdriver  in  her  hand  is  held  almost  as  if  she’s  about  to  stab  someone  or  something  with  it.  

it's  only  a  matter  of  seconds  before  she’s  picking  up  a  piece  to  inspect  it  further,  hoping  there  is  some  reason  for  all  the  DAMN  noise.  this  is  after  all  the  second  time  she’s  taken  it  apart,  the  first  time  didn’t  fix  it.  she’ll  have  to  explore  more  thoroughly  this  time,  perhaps  take  apart  the  small  engine,  or  maybe  she  should  just  bash  the  thing  with  a  baseball  bat.  

“  now,  just  to  find  a  freaking  baseball  bat.  ”

❛ don’t mind me. just enjoying the view. ❜

            𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉  𝒉𝒆𝒓  𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌  𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅  𝒕𝒐  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓,  𝒊𝒕𝒔  𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍  ;  big  eyes  shoot  wide  open  as  she  swivels  only  to  smile  then,  gently,  with  her  eyes  half - closed,  upon  the  view  of  her  guardian.  grey  wings  flutter  as  elsinael  stops  donning  her  gown  &&.  tilts  her  head  to  the  side.  grey  of  her  hair  glimmers  like  silver  in  the  daylight,  her  skin  flushed  ;  a  doll  of  remarkable  beauty  deeming  herself  monstrous.

            but  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐭  enjoys  the  view,  so  she  spins  nicely  ;  frail  body  draped  in  grey  silk  akin  to  marble  sculpture  on  full  display  for  the  one  she  calls  her  knight.

            with  a  beaming  smile,  the  dove  looks  up  to  meet  ghost's  gaze.  ❝  what  do  you  think,  then?  ❞

❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜

was  she  supposed  not  to?  little  dove  blinks  with  eyes  wide  open,  porcelain  cheeks  flushing  with  the  lightest  shade  of  pink.

on  her  face,  there's  equal  parts  surprise  and  abashment.  not  the  one  to  overstep  boundaries  known  prior,  she  turns  her  gaze  to  her  hands  fiddling  with  the  hem  of  ghost's  shirt.

"  i  thought—  "  she  starts,  words  suddenly  refusing  to  cooperate  —  but  it  flashes  in  ghost's  mind,  sentences  incomplete,  attempts  at  gathering  thoughts.

she  thought  she  can  —  because  as  she  fled  and  traveled,  all  her  belongings  got  destroyed  or  lost  &&.  now,  there  was  nothing  clean  for  her  to  rest  at  night  in.

elsinael  took  simon's  kindness  for  granted.  perhaps  too  hastily.

" i'm  sorry,  did  not  mean  to  take  what  is  yours  without  asking  first  —  thought  the  wardrobe  of  yours  is  to  be  shared  when  my  clothes  are  dirty.  shouldn't  have  assumed.  "

follow the instinct.

          𝗴𝘂𝘁  𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴.  what  a  joke.  in  a  world  built  upon  the  foundations  of  numbers  &&.  equations,  following  something  so  uncalculated  more  often  than  not  will  have  negative  effects,  to  put  it  lightly.  but  also,  this  sorta  behavior  is  a  concept  on  which  the  fate  cannot  wrap  her  head  around  ;  using  theory  of  probability  in  every  aspect  of  her  life,  able  to  estimate  the  outcome  with  that  odd  precision.

          it's  almost  eerie  —  when  she's  right  so  often.  like  she  can  see  into  the  future.

          ❝  fuck  no,  ❞  irma  huffs  shaking  her  head.  no  matter  the  experience  simon  has,  she's  the  firm  believer  of  planning  &&.  adjusting  said  plans  if  needed  other  than  winging  it,  following  a  hunch.