#felicity faustus

[coyotedraws]

Lights go out, you cut the line I'm the perfect sacrifice Yeah okay, well here's the twist I'm a stone cold ███, a killer bitch And I'll break your heart, I'll make you sick And I'll rip you apart from limb to limb You'll learn right now I don't play nice And if you hurt me once, I'll kill you twice And I won't go first, Drew Barrymore Cause I'm the last bitch up The final ███

[coyotescribbles]

"Well… well… well… if it isn't our… l-l-lucky contestant…"

Felicity slid to a halt at the sound of that voice, and - perhaps against their better judgment - backpedaled to look down the corridor they'd just rushed past.

They almost wished they hadn't.

"Don't t-t-take it personally," what was left of Henry Hotline rasped out, visibly shaking from the effort; "but you look like hell."

That seemed funny, coming from him - all that remained of his lower body was a mess of warped metal, tangled wires, and ruptured tubes that slowly leaked a viscous red-brown liquid. His faceplate had been shattered to splinters, his jaws wrenched out of place with loose wires dangling from the broken side, and one camera "eye" dangled from its socket, occasionally spitting tiny sparks, while the other's lens had shattered.

If the blackened burn marks all around it were anything to go by, he'd probably had his face jammed against a light socket or, worse, the broken end of an active fluorescent bulb.

And under the corridor's harsh greenish light, they could see how time had been taking its toll on him, in the sorry shape of his tattered velvet tailcoat, and the way the foam rubber covering his hands was blackened, cracked, and peeling away.

"You're one to talk," they replied dryly, approaching cautiously and on the alert for any unpleasant surprises; "one of us looks like we've gone through an industrial shredder, and it isn't me."

"T-t-touché." Something that sounded like it was supposed to be a wheezy laugh escaped him, and Felicity crouched down across from him, resting their elbows on their knees.

"I also know why I'm down here," they jerked a thumb in the direction they'd come from, indicating the security room with the creepy rabbit; "but I'm wondering… why are you down here? I'd've thought there would be, like… a repair room or something where you would end up after whatever happened in that hallway upstairs."

He laughed again, and this time there was an almost hysterical edge to it as he struggled to prop himself up on an elbow and motion towards the tiny room's back wall. "Wh-why don't you t-t-try reading the writing on th-the wall, sweetheart?" His voice sounded tinny and distorted now, as if moving had jarred something out of place.

They wondered if it hurt him.

The thought sent a twinge of - guilt? remorse? pity? - lancing through their chest, even as they looked up to read what was, indeed, written on the wall.

Let’s reflect.

How did you end up here?

Was it your fault?

How are you going to fix it?

Are you going to revisit Frankie’s Parkour Palace?

Frowning, they looked back at Henry, who had collapsed back into a heap and was looking down at the floor, giggling faintly to himself and shaking so violently that he was audibly rattling.

"I don't-" They shifted forward to rest their weight on one knee and reached out to take hold of his head.

He tensed and immediately lurched away from their touch, fixing them with the one eye that still seemed to somewhat work. "Don't. Do. That."

"Okay, okay! Sorry. Sorry." They held their hands up in surrender for a moment, then slowly lowered them to fold them over their knee. "Henry, what does that mean."

"It means," he sank back down, still giggling hysterically; "that I failed. I didn't keep you occupied long enough for Frankie to catch up to you, and now…"

"And now…?"

"And now, I g-ge-get to reflect on what a failure I am until the boss decides what to do with me."

Felicity's hackles stood on end as an almost electric sensation crept up their spine.

"They're p-pr-pr-probably going to just k-k-kill me, that's what they do to t-the ones that outlive their usefulness." There was a long pause, then; "…the - the only reason they haven't done you in is because you're boosting the ratings. But the first time you slip up…"

Henry's voice dissolved into static and hopeless laughter, and Felicity found themself shaking their head.

"No - no, that won't…" They stood up quickly, pacing and looking around for something, anything that could be used to help. "There's a freight elevator just down the hall, if I could just get you there…"

"They won't let that happen."

God, he sounded so tired, and why did Felicity even care?

"I have to at least try."

"Why? It's not going to - to accomplish anything."

"I - I don't know, okay! But there's got to be a dolly or something down here, right? I could get you upstairs, at least, and there's got to be - there's gotta be somebody here who can fix you-!"

"J-just get out of here, will you? The only thing p-pr-protecting you in the utilidors is the fact that there aren't any cameras, and the audience wants to see you get pulped. But they're gonna get impatient if you drag it out, and then the boss is gonna send his pet murder machine down here to get you, cameras or no, so you'd better start running while you still c-c-ca-can."

Felicity felt numb as they sank down into another crouch, rocking back on their heels and lacing and unlacing their fingers anxiously. "So, what, you're just giving up?"

"Why not? Isn't that what you did when you came here?"

"No! I'm here because I wanted a better life! That's the opposite of just giving up!"

"God, listen to you - would you quit lying to y-y-your-yourself?! Nobody agrees to come on this meat grinder unless they're at the end of their rope. Sometimes a literal rope. You think you're any different? You aren't." Henry pushed himself up on shaking arms and jutted his head out on that snake-like neck of his, getting as close to their face as he could. "You're just like every other contestant, you're running from something, and I'm not talking about Frankie. You're running because that's all you've got left. So just. Run. Already."

Felicity found themself with their back pressed to the clammy cinderblock wall, prepare to fire off another argument - only to be interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

It was almost deafening in the echoing confines of the utilidors.

Henry collapsed in on himself, shuddering, with a wrenching sound that could have almost been a sob.

The phone rang again.

Felicity wanted to yank the receiver until the cord snapped. To throw the offending noisemaker down the corridor. But before they could reach out, Henry had lifted one shaking hand to pick it up.

The explosion that followed a split second later left Felicity's ears ringing. Shrapnel - jagged little bits and pieces of what had once been his head - peppered their forearms, and they were covered in sprays of mechanical gore.

And, for a long moment, they could only stare down at Henry's lifeless body, their heartbeat pounding like thunder in their ears.

[dancing-coyote]

Real Frankie: But you? You're different. I like that~

Felicity:

[inexcellentorder]

which of your ocs have committed crimes and which ones?

LONG LIST TBH

seth- murder, posession of illegal substances, accessory to many many crimes, attempted murder, illegal ownership of firearms, probs other shit tbh

rhys- accessory to murder

faustus- arson, child abuse, murder

carter- posession of illegal substances

keegan- everything this guys crazy

amity- im like 90% sure its illegal to hack webcams

elijah- posession of illegal substances

ophelia- accsessory to murder

finnigan- idk what crime this is but distributing snuff

[lainfaustus]

Fictober Day 01

Prompt number: “It's not too late, let's go” ("Aún no es demasiado tarde, vámonos")

Fandom: Boku no Hero, Death Note

Rating: +18

Warning/Tags: Allusion to suicide, allusion to death, school bullying, allusion to a traffic accident, Shinigamis.

Language: Spanish

Count word: 549 words

—Aún no es demasiado tarde,¡vámonos!

Lo miró con desconfianza. No confiaba en esa mano que se estiraba hacia él, pero, por otro lado, la emoción le golpeaba el pecho, al punto que sabía que si no lo seguía, se arrepentiría.

Lo tomó, y ambos corrieron a la estación, esperando el último tren. El andén estaba vacío, sólo un guardia y un ebrio en una banca, y ellos, tomados de la mano, con una sonrisa que no se borró, en ningún momento, ni siquiera cuando se dejaron caer frente al tren.

Por fin estaban juntos para siempre…

O eso era lo que creían.

Dos Shinigamis en Entrenamiento

Las clases habían terminado, y Monoma intentó huir, cuando el profesor lo llamó:

—Señorita Uraraka.

Lo último que quería era enfrentarse al hombre que permitió que el odio que sentía por otra persona afectara su relación con Shinsou. Todos pudieron ser felices, pero él lo arruinó. Sin embargo, aunque era odio lo que sentía cuando pensaba en él, ahora se sentía culpable: él regresó a la vida, y Shinsou segura muerto, y era su culpa.

—¿Sí, profesor? —dijo Monoma.

Estaban solos.

—Me alegra verla de mejor humor este día.

—He estado tomando terapia —mintió, pero Aizawa-sensei pareció creerlo.

—Me parece bien, traté de no meterse en problemas.

—Eso debería decirlo a Momo y las demás chicas, yo no soy la que comienza, ellas…

—Lo sé, sólo le pido que no se meta en problemas.

Monoma silenció todas las respuestas transgresoras que deseaba gritarle, y respondió: —Sí, señor.

Salió sin esperar una respuesta.

Aizawa-sensei la siguió con la mirada. Si bien él era el nuevo maestro, conocía la historia de la chica, la conoció un par de días antes de su último intento de suicidio.

Era por eso que no entendía porque ahora la chica le parecía tan fastidiosa y pesada. Algo nuevo en ella le provocaba una furia tan fuerte que, el mero hecho de controlarse le dio indigestión.

Había algo mal en ella.

***

Antes de tener que encontrarse con Momo y su grupo, Monoma huyó, encontrándose con su papá una calle adelante. Estaba feliz de verlo, que lo abrazó. La calidez del abrazo le hizo recordar a su propio padre, y su indiferencia, parte de lo que lo había llevado al suicidio. Y aún así lo extrañaba.

—Vamos a casa, Ochako.

—Sí —sonrió, utilizando todas sus fuerzas para reprimir las ganas de llorar, cuando, mientras cruzaban la calle, un auto no se detuvo, estando a muy poco de golpearlos. Sin embargo, Monoma levantó su mano y con una ráfaga de viento lo detuvo, haciendo que las llantas se poncharan por la fricción. Fue un reflejo, él solía hacerlo cuando era un shinigami.

—¡Ochako! —gritó asustado su padre, abrazándola. El conductor salió de su auto, acercándose para ver los daños y si alguno estaba lastimado.

Todo estaba bien. Parecía que nada raro había sucedido.

Pero, de camino a casa, Monoma no podía dejar de pensar en una sola cosa: aún tenía sus poderes de Shinigami.

Lain Faustus

[fatedroses]

Seraphim character sketches

[dwellordream]

F saint names are fucking ace

Fabiola

Facundus

Faith

Farannan

Faustus

Febronia

Felicity

Felix

Fergus

Fidelis

Finian

Flavia

Florentius

Florida

Fortunata

Fraternus

Fredegand

Fridolin

Fronto

Fructus

Fulk

[mortuarybees]

What books do you recommend me to read?

I’m not sure what your tastes are but I’ll tell you some of my favorites! To be quite honest, I mainly return to the same books over and over again so the list is rather short and I doubt I have anything to recommend that you won’t have heard of already. I’ll recommend my favorites. It consists mainly of my usual rotation of things i read over and over or books that left an impression on me and I refer back to them often.

When it comes to the non-fiction section just like….keep in mind that most academic texts have many, many problems and I’m not presenting any of the texts I list as The Quintessential Must Read Best Flawless Overview of a topic, I’m mainly listing the books I have found to be approachable and reasonable introductions to topics. Read everything critically, always (and that includes everything else on this list, not just the non-fiction).

Plays:

An Oresteia, translated by Anne Carson (Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, Sophocles’ Elektra, Euripides’ Orestes)

Iphigenia in Tauris by Euripides

I mean like. Shakespeare, obviously; my personal favorites are Hamlet, Twelfth Night, As You Like It, Julius Caesar, and Macbeth; recently, thanks to the productions starring David Tennant, Much Ado About Nothing and Richard II have been added to the list

Doctor Faustus, Edward II, and Dido by Christopher Marlowe

Antigone, particularly Anne Carson’s translation, and after you’ve read Antigone, I’d recommend reading Antigonick, but not before

Lysistrata by Aristophanes

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (I feel like Lady Windermere’s Fan is also kind of necessary reading and I do love it of course but I’ve only read it the once, for the sake of it, whereas I’ve come back to the Importance of Being Earnest a million times and the 2002 movie is one of the things I watch when I’m down)

Novels (and Epics)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett if you haven’t yet, obviously

Maurice by E. M. Forster

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

VIRGINIA WOOLF. everything but particularly the Waves, Orlando, and Mrs. Dalloway. The Waves is my favorite, followed closely by Orlando, but I’d start with the Mrs. Dalloway because it gets you accustomed to Woolf’s writing style and the way she approaches her characters if you haven’t read her before.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (If you haven’t read it yet and you have seen 2005 P&P and love it and you’re opening the novel with the expectation that it’s similar to the 2005 film in tone and feel, you’ll be disappointed. If you’ve seen the 1995 miniseries, that reflects it very well. So just approach it with an open mind with 2005 on the back burner and you’ll find it an amazing and very repressed love story)

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore

The Iliad (the translation I own is Lombardo. It’s extremely approachable and colloquial and I enjoy it, and if you’ve never read the Iliad and you find it intimidating, I would very much recommend it, but my high opinion is not universal. Fagles and Lattimore are very popular translations and I like them both well enough)

I’m dying to get a copy of Emily Wilson’s Odyssey translation. I don’t love the Odyssey personally but I am a big fan of Wilson and from what I’ve read about her translation and what she’s said about it, if anything could make me enjoy the Odyssey, it would be that translation.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. I would personally recommend reading the Iliad first just because Miller takes…….liberties with it, but I also don’t think there’s a problem with that at all, so if you’re not interested in the Iliad, or you think tsoa would get you interested in it, there’s nothing at all wrong with reading it on its own or reading it first. I just think it’s a genuinely more enjoyable experience to read the Iliad first and then see what Miller does with it. And regardless of what order you read them in, if you read them both you will understand how very different tsoa and the Iliad are from one another and you will not be one of those people who talks about the Iliad when what they mean is tsoa. Again, there’s nothing wrong with tsoa, it’s one of my favorite novels, but it’s just a very separate thing and it gets just a little maddening.

Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson. It’s both poetry and a novel but it’s got to go somewhere so

When I was 14 I got very into Les Mis and i will recommend it. I genuinely love it and it will always have a special place in my heart. I have read the entire brick only once however because as much as i love it. as much as i Relate to the infamous off-topic tangents. there is a limit to my patience.

The Epic of Gilgamesh is just like. extremely good. I really don’t know enough about it to recommend any specific translations; in high school I was given a stapled copy of the whole thing and I read that til I lost it and now if I want to reread it or refer back I just look it up online. I’m a fake fan.

Poetry

If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho translated by Anne Carson

The Beauty of the Husband by Anne Carson

Devotions, Felicity, and Winter Hours by Mary Oliver. Those are the anthologies that I have read and I adore them. I imagine that all of her anthologies are also amazing and all of them are on my to-read list. I don’t think you could possibly go wrong

I do not have the singular published collection of Elizabeth Siddal’s poetry (My Ladys Soul) but I have read all of her poetry and she is an amazing poet and I hold her very near and dear to my heart

Crush by Richard Siken

Useless Magic by Florence Welch……..yall knew what you came here for

Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake

Non-fiction and Essay Collections (again. None of these are recommended as the definitive, end all, be all, all-you-need book on any given subject, they’re just some of my favorites). I have limited myself to collection specifically because this is long enough already and if I start just adding essays it’ll never end. All of these were either purchased online for under $10, are available somewhere on the internet as pdfs, or were at my library, so if you look, you can probably find them somewhere (I say this bc while trying to find the authors of some of these I have been stunned by their retail prices and I’m assuring you, don’t be scared off by your initial search bc I sure as fuck did not pay $30):

Citizens: A Chronicle of the French Revolution by Simon Schama

Marie Antoinette: the Journey by Antonia Fraser (controversial but well-researched and approachable and I love it. I would recommend reading like. almost anything else first because Fraser does obviously focus on Marie Antoinette and her life and experiences; and while she does talk about the revolution, it isn’t the focus of this biography, and you won’t understand why it was necessary if you don’t come to it with a good grasp on the broader events outside Marie Antoinette).

A Day with Marie Antoinette by Hélène Delalex

Robespierre: a Revolutionary Life and Liberty or Death: the French Revolution by Peter McPhee

The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution by C.L.R. James

If you’re at all interested in 18th century art, I recommend Rococo to Revolution:Major Trends in Eighteenth-Century Painting by Michael Levey

A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn is controversial. But it’s approachable and well-researched and if you don’t know a lot about American history, I recommend it highly (especially for Americans).

Eros, the Bittersweet by Anne Carson (okay literally everything by Anne Carson. All her essays, her poetry, her translations, her weird mashups, all of it. There are a few things I haven’t read yet but. I very much doubt you’re going to be able to go wrong, so just take what I’ve listed as my favorites)

This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. The Climate and the Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein

Black Against Empire: The History and Politics of the Black Panther Party by Joshua Bloom

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: and Other Lessons from the Crematory and From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death by Caitlin Doughty (also the illustrations by Landis Blair are absolutely phenomenal. Look at this. I love it so much I pulled it out of the book to hang in my momento mori corner because it’s so beautiful.)

The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan

Alexander of Macedon by Peter Green is. okay we have a love-hate relationship, me and this biography; me, and peter green, but I have major issues with every single Alexander biography I’ve read and this was the first so if you want to start somewhere, I guess go for it.

The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison

The Honey Bee by James L. Gould. It’s out of date in some respects but a good, simple introduction into honeybee biology and behavior

Before the Deluge: A Portrait of Berlin in the 1920s by Otto Friedrich

Vanishing Bees: Science, Politics, and Honeybee Health by Sainath Suryanarayanan and Daniel Kleinman

Out of the Past: Gay and Lesbian History from 1869 to the Present by Neil Miller

Holy Madness by Adam Zamoyski isn’t by any means perfect, but it’s a alright introduction to the Age of Revolution. Just don’t let it be the only thing you read. It’s here because it has a special place in my heart as my introduction to it.

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Erotic Exchanges: the World of Elite Prostitution in 18th Century Paris by Nina Kushner

Radical Love: Introduction to Queer Theology by Patrick S. Cheng

Our Lives Matter: A Womanist queer Theology by Pamela R. Lightsey

Our Native Bees: North America’s Endangered Pollinators and the Fight to Save Them by Paige Embry

At the Existentialist Café by Sarah Bakewell (I really do not know that much about philosophy or existentialism specifically or this subject generally, so I have no idea where the faults of this book are, but I really enjoyed reading it and it made me think a lot. I have a feeling it’s very simplified so take it with a grain of salt as I did?)

Walden by Henry David Thoreau (just. just. it’s enjoyable but don’t get too into it please for the love of God). My copy (and I think most copies?) includes his essay Civil Disobedience as well which is very good.

Never Caught: The Washingtons’ Relentless Pursuit of Their Runaway Slave by Ona Judge

The Uninhabitable Earth by David Wallace-Wells

The Diaries of Virginia Woolf: I’m currently in the midst of volume 2 (1920-1924). They’re very enjoyable, but they’re something of an undertaking as all diaries are if you aren’t already very familiar with the biography of the person in question, so like. If you find yourself moving slowly don’t worry about it.

Gay Berlin: Birthplace of a Modern Identity by Robert Beachy

To Be Broken and Tender: A Quaker Theology for Today by Margery Post Abbott

The New Jim Crow byMichelle Alexander

The Environmental Case: Translating Values into Policy by Judith A. Layzer is a textbook that was assigned to me in my Enviornmental Policy class last semester and I really fkcing enjoyed it. It’s a book of case studies in environmental policy and it’s dense at times, but really interesting and enjoyable.

The Second Amendment: a Biography by Michael Waldman

Michelangelo’s Notebooks: the Poetry, Letters, and Art of the Great Master by Carolyn Vaughan. Just like. Genuinely. Genuinely. unintentionally hilarious. but also sometimes very sad, and very gay. I just adore Michelangelo. Just a shy foul-tempered repressed disaster. Jesus Christ.

[purebloodblackqueen]

Pane ed emozioni

Finalmente era arrivato anche il mio momento. Per anni avevo atteso tra i racconti dei miei genitori il giorno in cui anche io sarei potuta andare ad Hogwarts. Era tutta la vita che mi preparavo solo per questo. 

Quella mattina mi alzai prestissimo. Tra le tende vidi che il cielo fuori iniziava ad essere illuminato dai primi raggi dell’alba. Un tiepidissimo raggio di luce scivolò ai piedi del mio grande baule nero, proprio accanto la mio letto. Lo guardai e non potei fare a meno di sorridere. Sentivo l’eccitazione sotto ogni centimetro della pelle. Corsi in bagno e feci una lunga doccia. Nonostante avessi perso giorni, se non settimane, a scegliere i vestiti per quel primo giorno, rimisi in discussione la decisione della sera precedente e mi cambiai tre volte. Gonna scozzese grigia al ginocchio, pullover nero e scarpe lucide. Avrei indossato quegli abiti solo fino al treno, ma erano fondamentali per me. Sarebbe stato il mio ultimo cambio d’abiti prima della divisa per Hogwarts. Legai i capelli in una coda alta. Poi li sciolsi. Poi decisi per una bella treccia. Sciolti di nuovo. Misi un elastico al polso e rimandai la decisione ad un momento di più lucidità. Scesi a fare colazione. 

Mio padre era già seduto al capo della tavola della sala da pranzo. Leggeva il giornale e beveva caffè : “Il ministro della magia augura ai nuovi iscritti un felice primo anno ad Hogwarts, mia cara.” Sorrisi nervosamente mentre mi sedevo. Mi sentivo strana. Era come se dovessi fare bella impressione anche a mio padre quella mattina. Una voce alle mie spalle mi distrasse dal mio imbarazzato pensiero. “Del tea, signorina Frost?” Faustus alla mia destra mi porgeva una bianchissima teiera di porcellana. Ringraziai educatamente, ma sempre soprappensiero, e mi scansai per permettergli di versare il tea nella tazza di fronte a me. Mia madre apparve sulla scalinata centrale, impegnata a infilarsi il secondo orecchino mentre le percorreva, “forse le sarebbe più d’aiuto una camomilla, Faustus.”  Lui sorrise mentre lei si avvicinava a me. Mi prese la mano, la baciò e la tirò quel tanto che bastava per farmi capire che dovevo alzarmi. Scostai la sedia e mi tirai in piedi mentre mia madre scrutava la decisione che avevo cambiato, più o meno dieci volte, sul mio abbigliamento per quella mattina. “Non è ciò che volevi indossare ieri sera.” Disse con la fronte corrucciata. “Sei molto carina Violet.” Disse papà, sorridendo gentilmente da sopra il giornale. “Molto carina davvero. Meglio delle altre 427 volte”, la mamma mi fece fare una giravolta e io caddi di nuovo sulla sedia. Un po’ più felice e un po’ meno nervosa di quando mi ero alzata. Avevo conquistato i miei genitori. Ce l’avrei fatta con gli altri ragazzi e con gli insegnanti? Mangiai appena quella mattina e ogni volta che qualcuno mi poneva una domanda doveva chiamare il mio nome almeno due volte. Faustus scese le scale con la bacchetta stretta saldamente in mano ed un’espressione solenne e responsabile in volto. Davanti a sé sulla scalinata centrale scendeva a mezz’aria il mio baule. Sentii un brivido come una scossa elettrica e mi rizzai in piedi. Corsi al piano di sopra e presi la mia valigia e la bacchetta nuova di zecca. Quando scesi i miei genitori si guardarono e si sorrisero. Imboccammo la porta e entrammo nell’automobile di mio padre. Faustus si mise alla guida dopo aver caricato il baule nel bagagliaio. Partimmo alla volta della stazione di King’s Cross.

[demonicdinos]

Felicity frowned a little and she thought

"what's dr Faustus?"

"a grown up play that we will show you some day but not today" Hades told her Felicity seemed to pout but she nodded as she took another bite of bacon

SURPRISE! (MULTI)

--

Felicity had heard Hades trying to talk about kits bday weeks ago, she'd out it on a calendar in her room with a special sticker so she would remember. So waking up that morning she made sure to get up early and sneak into the kitchen with rex

"ok I'm going to get the milk and the veggies you get the toast and sprinkles ok?" Felicity asked assuming the dinosaur would help. She pulled a chair up to the fridge so she could reach and got the eggs and carefully set them on the counter before she tried to grab the big gallon jug of milk as well

[coyotedraws]

An actual visual ref for my Contestant OC, Felicity Faustus, aka "Lucky."

(If they never hear the word "lucky" again after this is all said and done, it'll be too soon.)

[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.

[dancing-coyote]

...I have never had a character as overtly horny as Felicity god damn They put Az to shame with how badly they want to get railed by the freaky phone man

[serenuszeitblom1875-blog]

presentazione del progetto

diario musicale è un romanzo di formazione musicale e descrive i percorso e la ricerca artistica di Adriano,  nipote di quell’Adrian Leverkühn protagonista del bel romanzo di T. Mann intitolato “il Dottor Faustus. Sul sito del diario musicale (diariomusicale.com) è possibile seguire la costruzione e l’evoluzione del suo linguaggio musicale, è possibile leggere e ascoltare gli studi utili ed è possibile studiare l’arte della composizione musicale perchè i quaderni di appunti di Leverkühn che vengono pubblicati e commentati con esempi muicali, contengono le regole di armonia, contrappunto e teoria della forma utili come base e punto di partenza per l’esercizio della composizione musicale. In seguito riporterò alcuni esempi e alcuni studi che si trovano sul sito. Vorrei ancora  precisare che il sito è libero, libero da pubblicità, sponsor, cookies, richieste di iscrizione e contenuti nascosti vincolati a pagamenti  o iscrizioni.  E questo insieme alla vocazione di presentarsi come opera d’arte multimediale scritta e pensata per il web lo rende meritevole di alcuni minuti di attenzione. Adriano dichiara che questo progetto nasce per trovare sognatori, acchiappanuvole e perdigiorno come lui. E sembra che ce ne siano molti. Lui risponde a tutti ed è felice.

[lainfaustus]

Fictober Day 10

Prompt number: “all I ever wanted”

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 AU

Rating: Teen +

Warning/Tags: Paranormal situations

Count word: 1100

Los Secretos De Kageyama-san

—“Todo lo que siempre quise” lo obtuve con facilidad. Jamás tuve que esforzarme en lo más mínimo. Porque soy bueno convenciendo a los demás, porque tengo buena suerte cuando miento, porque tengo entusiasmo. Creo que es por eso que quiero tanto tener algo como los poderes psíquicos, porque es algo que jamás nadie a podido obtener con facilidad.

Hoyuelo escuchó en silencio las palabras de Reigen, el ex asistente de Kageyama-san, un psíquico adulto que acababa de despedirlo, hiriéndolo al decirle que alguien como él no podría obtener jamás poderes psíquicos.

—Aun puedes aspirar a algo más.

—No, yo quiero poder tener poderes psíquicos, y voy a descubrir la manera, y cuando lo haga, volveré con Kageyama-san, y él tendrá que ser mi maestro.

—No creo que te reciba otra vez.

—Pero yo…

—No es por ti, es por…

—¿Tú lo sabes?

—Lo imagino… Pero creo que lo mejor es que mantengas tu distancia, ok? Sólo… Ya no vuelvas.

Hoyuelo dio la media vuelta y se fue.

Reigen se sintió solo. Otra vez.

***

La casa a la que Reigen debía volver estaba vacía la mayor parte del tiempo. Sus padres trabajaban todo el día, y volvían cansados, sólo a dormir. Rigen se encargaba de él mismo desde pequeño, eso no era el problema. El problema era tener que hacer todo como si a nadie le importara. Comer, dormir, ver televisión. Siempre había estado solo, comportándose como un vago, hasta que había conocido a Kageyama-san.

Pero ahora era todo peor. Antes creía que no había nada peor que estar solo, pero sí que lo había: no había nada peor que volver a la soledad después de disfrutar de la compañía.

De pronto, alguien llamó a la puerta.

—¿Hoyuelo-san?

Se apresuró a abrir, pero la visita lo puso en alerta.

No era Hoyuelo-san.

***

Hoyuelo volvió con Kageyama-san, pero antes de que pudiera reclamarle, alguien llamó a la puerta, pasando una nota por debajo. Kageyama acercó la hoja sólo con mirarla, y la detuvo frente a él. Hoyuelo la leyó también y ambos salieron de la oficina.

“Tenemos a tu asistente,

Vuelve con nosotros

y lo dejaremos ir”.

***

Kageyama-san sabía a dónde ir, Hoyuelo-san sólo lo siguió hasta un extraño edificio cuadrado con figuras de brócolis en la entrada. Kageyama estaba furioso.

Entró, y ya había una multitud allí, todos con togas negras y máscaras con una sonrisa. Al verlo entrar formaron un camino hasta un trono, donde estaba sentado Reigen, atado de brazos y con los ojos vendados.

—Reigen —dijo.

—¡Maestro! —gritó Reigen— Ayúdeme, esta gente está loca, dice que usted es su dios.

—Eso es lo que ellos eligieron creer.

Kageyama-san caminó lentamente, ignorando a la gente que se hincaba a su paso. Hoyuelo-san lo siguió, mirando a su alrededor, mirando en la paredes imágenes de Kageyama-san cuando era tan joven como Reigen.

—Ellos —explicó Kageyama en voz alta para Reigen— me vieron una vez usar mis poderes para levitar los juguetes de unos niños, y creyeron que mis poderes los harían felices, pero por más que les expliqué, ellos nunca me escucharon.

“Creyeron que si construían una iglesia, o si conseguían más adeptos, yo los haría felices, pero no lo consiguieron, entonces, comenzaron a invocar espíritus para atraerme, y que más personas se unieran a su culto, pero lo único que hicieron fue dañar a otras personas”.

Llegó con Reigen y con la mirada, lo liberó.

—Son ellos —continuó Kageyama-san— los que nos han provocado estos problemas, Reigen; ¿estás bien?

—Sí, mae… Kageyama-san.

Kageyama miró a la gente molesto.

—Insisten en creer en algo que no existe, yo no los puedo hacer felices, no sé cómo hacerlo, así que no pierdan el tiempo conmigo, busquen otra caso qué hacer con sus vidas, no soy un dios, no quiero que me veneren más.

Había un silencio aterrador con las sonrisas rodeándolos, hasta que todos se hincaron.

Kageyama-san dio un paso adelante y levantó ambas manos contra la gente.

—Esto —dijo— es lo que quise hacer antes y no pude.

Todos se levantaron emocionados, alegres al ver a Kageyama. Pero Kageyama-san provocó una onda psíquica, que tumbó de espaldas a toda la gente. Hoyuelo-san se hincó, cubriendo a Reigen, y observaron a Kageyama elevarse un poco del piso, sin bajar sus manos, y a los adeptos en el piso, mirándolo. De repente, algo los golpeó, y quedaron noqueados en el piso. Kageyama volvió al piso, y, por primera vez, Reigen lo miró poner una rodilla en el piso, cansado.

—Kageyama-san! —exclamó y se acercó a él. Kageyama lo abrazó.

—¿Estás bien?

—Sí, ma…Kageyama-san.

Kageyama lo separó un momento y le sonrió.

—Esa no es forma de hablarle a tu maestro.

Reigen sonrió de nuevo, abrazándolo.

—Vaya —se acercó Hoyuelo-san—, ¿qué fue lo que les hiciste?

—Entré a la mente de cada uno, descubrí que los hacía tan infeliz y lo puse frente a ellos, eso debe hacerlos darse cuenta de que no encontrarán la felicidad en alguien más, sino en ellos.

—¿Sólo eso?

Las máscaras se elevaron y se quemaron, llenando a todos de cenizas.

—Y borré todo rastro del culto, sólo espero que dejen de ser tan fanáticos y encuentren lo que desean, lejos de mí; vamos, Reigen —le tomó la mano—, es hora de volver a la oficina, aún hay que limpiar.

—Sí, maestro.

***

En las noticias aparecían las personas diciendo que se sentían como si despertarán de un sueño de muchos años, más alegres, más llenas de energía.

—Usted les ayudó —dijo Reigen.

—No, Reigen —contestó Kageyama—, ellos dejaron de ser pesimistas, decidieron encontrar soluciones, no esperar a que apareciesen solas, sólo tú puedes resolver tus problemas cuando decides ayudarte a ti mismo. A veces necesitas ayuda, pero no de alguien que te prometa un remedio milagroso; cuando deseas ser feliz, no es sólo sonreír y ya, siempre hay algo más, algo por lo que debes esforzarte, y es el esfuerzo lo que vale la pena, lo que te hace feliz, entiendes?

—Sí, maestro.

—Bien, termina de limpiar y…

Reigen golpeó uno de los libros, y, al intentar alcanzarlo, se detuvo en el aire. Kageyama-san miró asombrado la escena. No fue él, ni Hoyuelo, que estaba fuera. Reigen miraba el libro flotar, y al darse cuenta que era él quien lo mantenía en el aire, perdió la concentración y lo dejó caer.

Al parecer, la onda psíquica que Kageyama-san usó para enfrentar a todos los del culto con sus problemas, había despertado algo en Reigen antes de que Hoyuelo lo cubriera. A Reigen no le mostró sus problemas, le mostró una solución.

Lain Faustus 🍁

[fatedroses]

Let the hunt begin.

I think I can honestly say that I’m proud of how much I’ve improved since the last time I’ve drawn these guys ^-^