#fallsekings

[therapardalis]

[Grown Adults Meme from @fallsekings for Ham Tyler.]

Sitting on a roof after dark. ------------

"I have to say, I'm very impressed!" Thera's accent was enhanced by a bit of extra plum, brought on by her tongue being firmly planted in her cheek, "I thought you were going to strangle him for a minute there."

And for a change she didn't mean Donovan. Granted 'Gooder' had a habit of giving Tyler shit that everybody seemed fine with until Ham gave some back - but this time it had been poor trying-too-hard Willie who had gotten under the skin.

"I mean ... call me crazy ..." Thera climbed the last few steps of the retractable stairs, "but I think Willie's for real. The kinda guy who gets shoved into lockers, but for real." She paused long enough to pull the stairs up behind her, then hefted the bag she'd brought along.

"Snacks and booze. I'm guessing we're gonna be up here for a while?"

[brittlefcrged]

@fallsekings

In the short time that she'd been in the city, she'd kept to herself as much as she could -- it was jarring to her senses to be surrounded by the living, and the last thing she wanted to risk was having an episode, or being caught talking to someone that no one else could see. She'd tried to make sure that someone else interacted with the other people she'd met, especially those that had been doing her intake, before directly responding to anyone where she could, just to be on the safe side. She'd rather be perceived as shy or nervous for the time being than being dubbed the crazy girl all over again.

She hadn't been a big fan of the medical examination even if she understood the need for it but the almost hot shower and clean clothes she'd been given had almost made up for it. She'd been as honest as she felt comfortable with during the whole process - answering the questions about where she'd come from and how she'd found the city were relatively easy; she'd just left out the fact that the people that had told her about the city were either dead or nonexistent. The room that she'd been given as temporary housing was nicer than any place that she could clearly recall having stayed in in ... years, probably, by this point, and she'd been relieved to find that she'd slept fairly soundly despite the unfamiliar surroundings.

Though she hadn't yet been given a work assignment or given permission to wander about the city, she had been given the bundle of wood that she'd requested, which she was currently in the process of stripping and shaping into cylindrical sticks to the best of her ability. She made sure to save every shaving and scrap, intending to shave them all down to make paper once she'd scrounged or made the rest of the tools she'd need for that. The sticks themselves would be charcoal, eventually - assuming they'd let her near fire anytime soon. The pen knife that she used was probably not the best tool for the task at hand, but seeing as she wasn't allowed anything bigger? It would have to do.

She sat on the floor of the bedroom with the small pile of completed sticks to one side, cross legged, back resting against the bed with the door left open so that she'd see him coming. His shadow preceded him, and she paused in mid motion, her gaze tilting up to study him and see how much of what she saw matched what her mind's eye had filled in. The eyepatch. The bright blue eye. The wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and forehead. The wariness and grief hidden in the shadows of his features. "You must be the Governor," she said, carefully folding the small knife closed and setting it next to her before brushing off a few loose edges of broken bark and shavings and making her way upright. "I'd introduce myself, but I expect you already know everything there is to know about me." A half smile, almost amused.

[aworldofyou]

        He sniffs - bringing a hand up to swipe the knuckle of his thumb along his nose in a small attempt to alleviate the burning in his sinuses. He didn’t like the smell of them; but he’s yet to meet a wolf that can spend a minute in their presence without becoming tired of the stink. It was like an over load of copper and ash - like that potent fancy paint that smells like gas if too much is inhaled. It stunk - and it made his tongue itch. “I’m here out of respect for the local alpha-” Then he clears his throat recalling just how new Jacob Black was. “The new one ... You know how most of us feel about.. your kind.” Then his lips press before his temper can get away from him - that wasn’t why he mentioned all of this. “Tell me, what makes you so different from the other leeches I’ve seen?”

      @fallsekings​ / for Carlisle, from a genuinely confused John Campbell.

[sialiia]

                                  x|| @fallsekings​ liked!

      “𝓖od! If you’re gonna sneak up on someone can you please at least make yourself known?” Sydney said, giving her head a faint shake as she turned to face the person behind her. “Wear a bell or something maybe?”

[multimuse-rp-archived]

@fallsekings asked: ❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ To Hermione from Lupin

Hermione’s heart was pounding a million times a second. Lupin had scared her… she hadn’t realized that it was a full moon. He would never hurt her, not on purpose, but she knew almost everything there was to know about werewolves; she knew how dangerous they could be.

“It’s alright,” she breathed, both to reassure him and herself that everything would be okay. Everything was fine now; she was safe. “I’m alright.”

[kissofthemuses]

@fallsekings​​ liked for an HP Starter

Mary caught sight of the auror and hurried her steps to catch up to him. ❝Ah, Mr Graves,❞ she said, falling into step beside him. ❝How wonderful to see you out on such a nice day. How are you doing?❞ Mary Sibley very rarely talked pleasantries just for the sake of it, at least not with those within her very small inner circle. She would, inevitably, be angling for some kind of information.

[annastrxng]

To Rid Setauket of a Deadly Pestilence: Anna Strong & Edmund Hewlett

@fallsekings (semi-pre-plotted)

The drawing room of Whitehall had fallen into near quietude of evening. The laughter and chatter of Thomas’s antics with Mary Woodhull had long ago turned into protests over being sent to bed. The shuffle of Richard Woodhull’s footsteps had grown softer in his study. He was no doubt brooding over some piece of legislation or other. Whether it was legal or not, remained in doubt. Yet, Anna was contented that it occupied so much of his attentions. It kept him out of her hair and prevented him from causing more trouble for the Ring. 

Something must be done about Simcoe! On this point, everyone seemed inclined to agree even her supposed enemies. Simcoe is a wildfire of bloodshed, raging out of control. But what could be done that hasn’t been tried already? The man thwarted every murder plot and assassination attempt with remarkable resiliency. She begrudgingly ruminates, dismissing entirely the printed words of the book sprawled out in her lap. 

Anna is also keenly aware the name Culper has been unveiled to the enemy. With it, came the unpleasant possibility of being caught and then hanged. Richard was already actively pursuing reasons to see her killed, if only he had access to enough damning evidence. While she was not Culper herself, she was a very expendable extension of his being. And neither side seemed to turn the other way when it came to espionage. 

Two, potentially three, very serious problems had been presented. Staring at the chessboard, Anna becomes preoccupied with internalized plotting. How does one get rid of both problems? Ideally, both at the same time. 

What if, she could get people to believe that Captain Simcoe of the Queen’s Rangers was Culper? It was an outrageous plan. Almost absurd. Could it actually work? Possibly. Of course, there was a little matter of getting some assistance. But from whom? Who could she trust with such a plot?  

Abraham? No. He has proven time and time again that he doesn’t have the Ring’s best interest at heart. Besides, he had recently taken to ignoring her intelligently laid plans in favor of doing whatever the hell he thought he was best. Most of the plots hatched by him tended to go disastrously awry. 

Mary? NO! She’s far too eager for bloodshed. She also wasn’t the most trustworthy with secrets. Anna learned this from experiences with the gravestone incident and being a member of her sewing circle. Plus, Mary was always keen on taking up Abraham’s plans. While Mary did improve Abe’s subpar plots, she was blinded by her own family’s self-interest. Not that Anna could remotely blame her. 

Caleb and Ben were taxed too heavily with their own problems. Townsend and Austin Roe were too far away to be reached. Even then, involving them with something of this magnitude could prove folly. 

Anna needed someone else for this job.  

Hearing the shuffle of footsteps in the doorway, Anna’s gaze snapped up between long dark lashes. Fondness infiltrates the worry upon her countenance, softening it considerably. EDMUND. The answer resounds in the reawakening corridors of her mind. Of course!! Why hadn’t he been the first person to come to mind?! Simcoe already tried to frame the poor man for a crime he hadn’t committed. Why couldn’t the same be done in reverse? Couldn’t the argument be made, that Simcoe only survived the ambush at the safe house because his allegiance lay in other places than with the King? Plus, he was claiming to intently hunt spies. What other explanation could there be for not ferreting them out? It was impossible to hunt one’s self. Wasn’t it? Further evidence could always be manufactured. Could it not?

“Ah, Edmund...” Anna beckons when she notices him standing under the grand curved arch of the entryway. She sets aside the previously forgotten book and rises to greet him. “Won’t you join me? That is if you have the time.” She offers, making an ample space on the sofa next to her by removing the book that landed there when she stood. She doesn’t quite know how to broach the subject. When she does, Anna is sure that she must employ the greatest of tact. 

[chaotiicgoods]

@fallsekings liked this post for a starter from Finnick (still accepting)!

Finnick wasn’t fond of District 13; he felt like everything had gone wrong since he had escaped the arenas, and tying knots seemed to be the only thing that connected him to reality. He didn’t like Coin - she wasn’t eager at all to rescue the victors who were in the Capitol, and she was also pressuring Katniss way too much. What if she was just another Snow ? Too much people followed her BLINDLY; he felt like only Katniss and him felt otherwise, but of course, if there was someone who would agree too, it was probably Haymitch. This was why he decided to talk to him about it.

“I know it’s not a thought I should voice in front of anybody, but It doesn’t feel right.” He admitted, scratching his neck for a brief moment. “Coin is using Katniss, and all of us, just like the Capitol do. She doesn’t care much about about our opinion. It’s a bit too familiar for my taste, Haymitch.”