#fantasms

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎃 👻 💀 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ -> anon 🕸️ asked ❝ send  me  🍒  +  @fantasms  + i  will  write  some  positivity  for  them. ❞

no  ???  kris  kringle  died  peacefully  in  his  home  at  the  age  of  86  surrounded  by  friends  &  family  ?????  murdered  ?  u  must  have  a  twisted  mind  2  think  of  something  like  that  :/

"oh... that's not necessary." he already feels like enough of a nuisance, like a problem, needing rescued because of a blown tire. jesse can't help but admonish himself in the tone of his father, berating himself for always putting off getting a spare: what kinda moron goes into the desert unprepared? sucking his teeth, jesse grips the coffee mug tighter, though all its warmth has already leeched out - it's merely comforting to have something to hold. "don't wanna impose, sir," he says with a sheepish smile. "i got some campin' gear in my car. ain't a stranger to roughin' it."

for all his intricacies, and all of the mystery shrouding him, john remains, after all of these years, a relatively simple man at the end of the day. he, addy thinks, is just a man with a highly specialized skillset and a sheer force of will unlike any other. "you're too good to be letting anyone that's not you tell you who you're gonna be."

"incredibly observative, aren't you." though delivered dryly, ransom almost smiles, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly before returning to his usual impassive state, examining the house before them emotionlessly: dilapidated and ruinous, an almost cartoonishly stereotypical silhouette against the reddening sky. glancing to joshua, ransom arches a brow, then says conversationally: "it could be worse. at least there's no cemetery in the front yard."