#fallcr

[magonumberfive]

@fallcr​ replied: 

Gives a 10 instead~

He doesn’t usually register the faces of passerbys, but after a tenner in the cup, he had to look up. 

“Shishi!” 

[intcrpol]

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏ ᴅʀᴜɢs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴍɪɴɪsᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʀsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴄᴀᴘᴛɪᴠɪᴛʏ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ ғᴀɴɢs

@fallcr

[destinycaught]

DOODLE DUMP! request edition ! ! 

top to bottom rows, left to right: @slowgunk , @fallen-phxtxgrapher , @waveraging, @rivalbede , @fallcr , @189time , @caramelchips , && @champiowned

[decotree]

fallcr replied to your post:

“Speak for yourself.”

“ I’m gabbin’ to you, actually, babe. ”

[gladionsgrownup]

“I’m selling tickets to Faba getting his ass absolutely destroyed by a woman. Any takers?”

[caffeinatedintel]

【 FILE TYPE 】      ↳  ♡’d STARTER:: @fallcr​

┍━━━━━ ✧

          06:32 and coffee number three was already loosely held in one hand. In his other, debriefing files. That land on the conference room table with a slide in the woman’s direction.

          After all, he didn’t need them anymore. The suspect's image was burned into memory, tips and locations hard wired━( unfortunately )━into his brain. Numbers to eventually become a matching game over the next few days. 

          There’s a lean against the end of the table. A comfortable distance, even when his now empty hand is placed on the edge to further the leisurely posture. His greeting comes in delay, after a long sip of coffee that steams up in swirls towards his face. 

          It’s simple, unhurried, but notably not very warm and friendly. ❛ Good morning. ❜

[balsamina]

@fallcr​ || continued from here

As if she had sensed 496’s unease, Madam President Lusamine is quick to offer a little laugh to dispel the tension. It is light, airy, like music.

“You can be at ease, agent. You aren’t in any trouble, I promise you. Although my question may strike you as a bit... odd. I’ll ask that you not judge me too harshly for it. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

The air about her-- sweet, light, inviting-- seems to suggest that her question will be something silly, or at least of little consequence. (It isn’t, of course.)

“Tell me, Agent 496... Do you remember the wormhole?”

[oleasters]

@fallcr​​ || continued from here

The contents of the trash bin seem to come alive before 496′s eyes. Over the lip of the bin comes first a pair of ears (?), then the vague impression of a face-- two dark, staring eyes and a row of jagged fangs.

Though the Garbodor is a fearsome sight, she seems to exhibit no sign of aggression. Instead, the dinner plate eyes blink, as if in surprise.

... Oh! This wasn’t the thing she dropped at all. Whoopsie-daisy.

She releases her hold on the woman’s ankle in an instant... though naturally a sticky, foul-smelling residue remains. Then, one of the steel pipes jutting out from her arm points like a finger, drawing 496′s attention to an object leaning against the far wall of the alleyway: a beaten-up, half-deflated basketball.