#contestant

[mixierupperc20]

That one contestant that NOPE the heck out after Frankie comes to get him

Apparently they survived

[anotherlittlemuppet]

FINDING FRANKIE SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am now the proud owner of 21 finding frankie stamps

(normal)

[boonalina]

I love that the player, or as some call them "contestant" from

Finding Frankie, has the most gender neutral/androgynous body to ever exist. Making it so almost everyone can imagine themselves as the player.

[monkie-kid-oc-showdown]

Submitting my silly aaa moon girl;

YEVA IVANOVA TERESHKOV/MOON

Or just Yeva ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

(Feel free to browse my profile if ur curious about more idk...)

*Battlesuit 03; Celestial's Bitter Thesis

Chang'e 's adopted daughter, a former Queen of a Siberian monarchy

Has weird magical abilities that are vaguely similar to technology...

Basically she has telekinesis, barrier shields, uses giant mechanical gauntlets to move around (optional), can do finger guns like Makima (wow), can portal around, can eat anything that has "Chi" in it...

Though the downside is that she has all these powers that it kills her gradually, which is why she subconsciously almost anything she can get her sights on.

(Especially doors)

Well not that severe anymore thanks to the Celestial Realm chucking suppression shackles on her arms! (Though at the cost of her mobility and emotions)

Season 5-esque spoilers... She's actually an alien hybrid thanks to the "Divine intervention" that happened to her great great great 6x great grandfather long ago...

Who is or was this "Deity" you ask... maybe we'll never know... cough cough

I like the hairstyle :o cool storyline too!!

29/32 slots filled!!

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was a contestant on Jeopardy, and I did so badly that I was executed by firing squad. The audience threw pretzels at my corpse.

[prettysunnydude]

Another guitar Gwen! Not quite sure how I feel about the lighting but oh well

[coyotescribbles]

Dead Signal [Chapter 1/?]

*sigh* Did my squirrelly ass cave and add YET ANOTHER WIP to the Eternal Pile?

Yes. Yes I did. Thanks, Finding Frankie.

[CW for suicidal ideation]

~*~

There were a lot of things, Felicity Faustus mused, that had led up to standing in line to buy a bus ticket at three o'clock in the morning.

Like a decade and change spent trying to make it in broadcast media, but never actually going anywhere because they "weren't camera-friendly enough."

Like struggling to stay afloat as rent and bills continued to rise, while they were denied raises time and time again even as less-experienced coworkers advanced ahead of them and their other job applications continued to go unanswered.

Felicity had always been a scrapper - it had gotten them into trouble more times than they could count as a kid - but as the months crept by, they felt the fight leaving them as the proverbial water closed over their head.

They would have been lying if they'd tried to say that they hadn't been tempted to end it all more than a few times. The means to their end were plentiful, and it would have been easy to pick one and make use of it.

They'd just never been able to work up the guts necessary to do it.

Instead, they'd aimlessly gone looking for solace in their favorite cult game show, even as they sank deeper and deeper into despair. But cartoons and livestreamed events weren't much of a life preserver when the rest of their life was falling apart around them.

But then, just as they were teetering on the literal razor's edge, the semi-regular announcement was made that Finding Frankie was looking for another batch of contestants.

Four tapes. Four boxes of cereal.

And maybe, just maybe, Felicity had cracked, just a little bit.

In a fit of mad desperation, they'd run up their last remaining credit card buying cart loads of cereal and then, once that had maxed out, resorted to shoplifting even more cereal than they would ever be able to eat. They were pretty sure that they were on some kind of list for that.

They'd only had to open one, though. Just one, to make sure there was nothing hidden at the bottom. After that point, their kitchen scale had been their best friend, looking for one box that weighed a few ounces more than the rest.

The laser-focused obsession had paid off, after four whole months of diligent (obsessive) searching, when they'd finally scored that coveted VHS tape - and their ticket out of this hole in the wall.

(It had paid off for their neighbors, too. All the unopened boxes got dumped in the run-down "community room" of their slummy little apartment building, and they were always gone by the next afternoon.)

They'd spent half of a breathless, sleepless night tossing and turning after that, their heart hammering like thunder in their ears, before ultimately deciding that it didn't make sense to wait.

(It didn't matter that the show wouldn't be airing for another week, and they had plenty of time. Nothing mattered anymore, why should time?)

They'd rolled out of bed, taken a quick, cold shower and gotten dressed, then stuffed their wallet and cell phone into their thigh bag and their Swiss Army knife into their binder, grabbed their jacket, and hurried downstairs to catch a bus to the Port Authority terminal.

"What can I help you with?" The woman behind the counter sounded as exhausted as she looked.

"Can you tell me when the next bus to Dallas leaves?"

The woman stifled a yawn and turned her attention to her computer monitor, tapping away on the keyboard and squinting at the information that her query brought up. "…Eight-thirty A.M. There are only three seats left, did you want to reserve one?"

"Yes, please."

More tapping, more squinting; maybe she needed to schedule an eye exam, Felicity thought to themself.

"That'll be… Four hundred and sixty dollars and seventy-seven cents."

This time, they had to stifle a groan, fishing their wallet out and handing over their debit card.

It was going to use up most of the pitiful little emergency fund they had left in their checking account, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore - not the money, not the debt, not the job or the apartment or anything. Either they were going to win, and the prize money would make everything right again, or they were going to die, and none of their problems would be their problem anymore.

"Credit or debit?"

"Debit."

More tapping; it felt incessant now.

And then there were signatures to be signed, scrawled barely-legible onto the little OLED tablet screen.

And then the ticket was in their hand.

And, just for a moment, the weight of the world lifted off of their shoulders.