#LGBTQIA writer

[tintipping]

The Traveling Funeral

A man died. That's how it began. A long time ago, in a place far away, a man died. He was an important man; a respectable, serious man who’d lived a respectable, serious life. He was a priest or a politician or something. Maybe a king, even. In any case, he died, and a swarm of other important, respectable, serious men all made plans to attend his funeral, because, "You have to show your face at these kinds of things."

Now of course, whenever an important, respectable, serious man found that another of his station was going to the funeral, he would inevitably decide that he must also attend, no matter how tenuous his connection to the deceased may have been. Then, naturally, he would force his family to attend with him, because, "What would people think, otherwise?" And so, the place was far overcrowded before the service could even begin. As guests piled in, the room grew warmer and more cramped, until everything was too hot, and too loud, and too old, and it smelled funny, and no one had eaten properly, and someone's toddler burst into tears.

The child’s important, serious, respectable father did his best to mitigate the situation by glaring at the child and growing very red. This was not effective. "You must stop crying!" He said. "Crying at a funeral! How unbecoming!" The child remained unconvinced, however, and soon sobs began trickling from other corners of the room. Then half the crowd was weeping. None were weeping for the dead important man, exactly, but some were weeping for him inexactly.

Maybe that was enough. Because just as the heat, and the wailing, and the crush of bodies grew unbearable, the dead, important man opened his respectable, serious mouth and sang. He sang a song so joyful that all those weeping began to laugh, and all those silent began to dance, and they all burst into the street as one great mass, shouting, and twirling, and carrying the coffin with them. They became a parade gamboling down the street. That’s where The Funeral came from.

When The Funeral comes to your town, you will know before it arrives. You can hear it miles away and feel it further. Some people make their children stay inside when it comes. Some people hide in basements and attics and plug their ears until The Funeral has passed. This is unnecessary in addition to being ineffective.

If The Funeral is in you, it has always been there.

You may hear its music from your desk, and hum softly while you work. You may pause at your window and watch, as it swirls down the street. You may wander out of your building and stand, staring, beside your neighbors. You may marvel at the flags and the dazzling colors, and the murmuration of bodies spinning like pinwheels. You may even cheer and run alongside them. Most of you will. And for most, that's as far as it will go.

But for others, a shell will crack inside them, and something will spill out like a torrent. They will stand up in their starched suits, or uniforms, or modest dresses, and they will know where they need to go.

[madrabbitsociety]

07/15/2023 Pinned Post

After writing seven novellas and publishing them on Amazon last year, I decided I was going to take a break from writing original stuff and work solely on the WIP I have on Ao3 because fanfiction is my love, my calling and it brings me so much joy. 

And then I got cast as Dr. John Watson in a local community theater play and all thoughts have now exited my brain. This is my entire personality. I have dreamed of playing Watson in a play for over a decade, if I’m being honest, and I thought because I am AFAB that I’d never get the chance. I’m so happy. Rehearsals are an hour away from where I live, though, and I’ve had a lot of car trouble, so I’m linking my Ko-Fi again in case anyone wants to buy me dinner or a coffee or contribute to my gas fund. 

Due to the financial struggle, I’m still in that same unsafe living situation. I really don’t know what to do. Rent is high, I don’t get paid enough to rent anyway. It’s a real struggle. Writing and acting give me something to look forward to and a positive creative outlet (reasons to breathe, honestly), so bear with me if I’m not writing as much fanfic as I used to. I’ll be back. I just gotta do this thing first. 

In addition to being Avery Morstan or Mad Rabbit Society on Insta and TikTok, I also do still post to my YouTube channel if anyone wants to watch sewing vlogs and thrift hauls. And yes, all the bolded words are hopefully the correct links, lol. 

A quick note about my original ‘books’: They are probably more of a Novella or Novelette. Each book is only about 15-20,000 words. I also try to focus the conflicts elsewhere- I’m very tired of the stress that miscommunication and the ‘third act break-up’ brings, so I attempt to keep these books moving but without those kinds of stressors. I call them Lo-fi romance. Chill reading. Good for vacations or over stressed brains. 

Also, another note on the original works: I think I’m going to take a brief break from romance and do a mini-cozy fantasy series this fall, so look for that to come out soon, too. 

[daxhalfawake]

Quick Question, Y'all.

Some of y'all might not know this, but I do have an urban fantasy novel with queer (bisexual, nonbinary, etc), dynamic characters and a slight romantic subplot available for sale. It's currently only on Amazon, but I am looking into the various markets for self-publishing so that I might find something that works better for me and for my readers.

That said, I want to know if folks would be interested if I decided to do a small giveaway involving 5-10 signed paperback copies of my novel, A Thousand Years. The Amazon listing is here, so you can see if it's a book you might enjoy. The 5th year anniversary of its' writing is coming up and I would love to share it with some new sets of eyes. 💖

I don't really mind either way if the book is reviewed or not (although it would help), I just want to get my writing in the hands of more people. I may or may not run the giveaway through Goodreads; I have not explored that mechanic yet.

Due to shipping costs, I will probably only be able to ship to folks in the US.

Answer the poll?

*when I say Kindle in the poll, this is not limited to Kindle. I can prepare other digital versions for whatever folks may need.

If you'd like a digital version but also signed, say something in the comments. I can probably make that happen with Adobe ;)

I am also working on setting things up to make other digital versions of this work widely available.

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[animentality]

"why does everything have to be gay with you-?"

because for the first 20 years of my life everything had to be fucking straight so I have to even it out.

[icaruswithwingsofwater]

Big things are coming! Stay tuned for brand new writing, info, and updates! For those of you who have known for me years you know my writing, but many of you will be new to it! I’m excited to reach such a wonderful audience and get this stuff out there.

I look forward to getting to know you all better. Just know things do get better.

From my heart to my wings,

Katherine Wanderer)

(Kate 💙)

[charliejaneanders]

Writing any kind of story is a scary proposition, especially if it deals with personal stuff. And writing about trans people during a bogus moral panic is especially daunting -- it's easy to either pull your punches, or feel as though the burden of good trans representation weighs on your shoulders. The good news is that we are living during a time of extreme riches when it comes to trans stories, and a ton of wonderful authors are writing trans tales that defy categorization and bust through boundaries. So please write the story that speaks to you, the story that only you can tell about your own obsessions and dreams. It can be scary or funny or comforting or escapist, or all of the above — don't worry that what you write will be singled out as the One True Trans Story, or seen as a representation of all trans people. Just write your story.

Writing Trans Stories For Fun (and Liberation) --- My latest newsletter!

[brandyschillace]

I grew up as the weird (autistic) goth kid who spent a lot of time in graveyards. I didn’t have friends. So I invented them. That’s why I’m an author, I think. I crafted worlds full of wondrous diversity, quirky characters, peculiar souls. I knitted them into families. I often felt at home when I read; the work of Neil Gaiman, of Terry Pratchett, of Ursula Le Guin, of Terry Brooks… My fiction is meant to be participatory too. When you read it, you should feel like you came home and friends were waiting to greet you.

Maybe in a really cool graveyard—like this one at Scone Castle.

[inkcurlsandknives]

Hi Tumblr I'm an Asian fantasy author fleeing the sudden death of all my other social media sites 👋 I've used Tumblr for years as a fandom lurker and rarely posted but in light of all my other communities imploding I guess I'll have to figure out how to be actually active on Tumblr and find bookish and writerly folks here 💜 say hi if that's you 🥺

If you love diverse filipino fantasy with bipoc leads, angry bi women clawing for space in a world that's always rejected them and soft boys who'd do anything for them, awesome elemental magic based on early Filipino shaman/ babaylan/katalonan mythologies and the Tagalog creation story, and the Bakunawa/Laho the 🇵🇭 sea dragon 🐉 and drowning colonizers then I hope you'll keep an eye out for SAINTS OF STORM AND SORROW coming in June 2024 from Titan Books

[eziojensenthe3rd]

Senates adjourned until may 7th on a tuesday.

Get to calling through the weekend and monday.

We can clutch this!

[pokimoko]

hi!! if you'd be down i'd love to see an aromantic or genderfluid shark! any kind of shark but more specifically a thresher shark or leopard shark ^_^

*cradles shark gently* I just think they're neat.

[murosakiiro]

GUYS MY AUTHOR BIO IS UP! YOUR BOI IS OFFICIAL

Subscribe to the newletter if you wanna be notified the MINUTE my book comes out! Free And Featured Books Newsletter — Next Chapter

[queerism1969]

[talkbycolor]

john doe game headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; i'm actually really sensitive about john doe JHSAJHSAJAS

Pairing; "John Doe" x GN!Reader

CW; Just doe being the weirdo we love / PISSPISSPISS / implied cannibalism? not so much tho / ew stinky gay / sex with a hairball

john doe as a partner.

His love for you is pure, but the lack of understanding in humans makes it complicated, he doesn't know how to express it in a "correct" way.

He has little interest in humans but all his interest in You, do you want to learn to play an instrument? Doe too, he would learn to use a phone to call you although it would be useless since in the end he would follow you to work, he can't stand having you away for even a second!

He tried to eat you (unfortunately not in a sexual way), he wanted to bite, pull your teeth, and tear them out of your cheeks to eat them, you had to use a lot of patience to explain to him that this was painful and you could die

He likes your fluids, your sweat smells so good, it tastes great, your tears, he knows that tears mean something is wrong but he can't help but want to lick them, at least he's like a puppy in that way and that will make you laugh, Doe wants to help! your urine, he will drink it all without a problem, if you are both having a loving session in bed and you want to go to the bathroom, forget it, he will open your legs and help empty your bladder, he loved being your personal toilet, your blood is the sweetest of his paradise, be careful with accidental cuts or his mouth will stick like a leech to your wound

Ideas for romantic activities will probably come from television, be careful what he watches

At this point, Doe lives by and for you, he will adapt to your lifestyle and tastes, although he cannot understand most of them, the idea of "breaking up" does not exist in his head, you can walk away, even stop talking to him and he will continue behind you

But he has feelings, why don't you talk to him anymore? Did he do something wrong? He no longer leaves rats in the kitchen, he no longer tries to make You dinners with raw meat, is that the way he looks? Tell him your standards! Doe will change everything for you, even reality

He can definitely purr, he's more like an old, ugly, stray cat that will rest on your lap, but he's YOUR, old, ugly, stray cat.

He doesn't know how to give compliments, it's more like observations or comments about how you make him feel "You're wearing a big hat!" "A red dress!", "I'm so happy to see you!" but it's adorable that he reminds you that you are his whole life…somehow

It's like having a child at home, in the strangest way possible, he will try to make horrible crafts for you and help with housework without much success.

If you demand sex, Doe would probably do his best to make a nice cock, just for you, or a pussy depending on what you like, he will be submissive but if you ask him to take control he will try

And that will probably be the messiest and hardest sex you've ever had in your life, Doe always adores you like it's your last day on earth so in a sexual sphere it would be ten times worse

If you put on a movie at night, he will fall asleep halfway through, no exceptions, the sound of the television and your smell will be enough

Doe would definitely kill for you, he doesn't understand jokes so please don't say "Ugh I hate that guy, I hope he's dead" because yes, the guy will be dead.

In case You doesn't like the smelly boy, Doe will try to take showers regularly, at least to not smell like something out of the sewer, the pain doesn't matter if it's about you

Loves physical contact and quality time

Surprisingly, Doe has a driver's license, he would be your personal chauffeur, you may think it's an adorable gesture but he just wants to be sure where you are at every hour of the day… and help, of course.

Aside from adoring you, Doe actually has his own tastes and hobbies, he HAS feelings! He has tried knitting since the technology is very confusing, he really is like an old man

He tries to have a good relationship with your friends and family, if you have a big family he will probably feel overwhelmed but that doesn't mean he will stop trying to show that he loves you and wants to be with you.

Your younger nephews love it, they think of Doe as a weird-looking uncle who lets them play with his hair

Doe shirt always has hearts when he looks at You.

♡

[scififettuccine]

maybe a frenchie x supe!reader? there’s not enough frenchie fics out there! like maybe they don’t get along but they’re forced to work together?

A Wild Fix: Part 1

Pairing: Frenchie x Reader

Summary: You, Wild Card, a 27 year old Supe newly signed by Vought, are recruited by Billy Butcher following an incident in Vought Tower. With the help of The Boys, you vow to destroy the corrupt system that wronged so many. But will your mission be tainted by your constant bickering with one of your new team members?

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Violence, drug use, Homelander (Obviously), mentions of drug use, questionable French

Notes: I absolutely LOVED this request. I slept on it once I saw it because I had so many ideas and I didn't know where to start...but my goal is going to be a 3-5 part series! I'm going to try my best to keep each part under 2k, maybe 1.5k each? No gender was specified in the request so I'm gonna keep it as a GN reader!

From the outside...Vought as a whole seemed like the shiny pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that every Supe had striven for since the company's creation. But you? You knew the truth. Only 24 hours into your career as a member of The Seven, you had been subjected to more violence than you expected from a group that was supposedly supposed to save people. Your first meeting with the rest of the group had gone south quickly once you questioned one of Homelanders statements, and stood your ground when he told you to back down. Before you could even blink, you were pinned against the wall, with a firm hand pressed against your neck, constricting your breathing. In that moment, you understood that being compliant was the only thing that would secure your status as living. So that's what you did, you nodded your head and said “yes sir.” Needless to say, you left that room with the fear of god, no, the fear of The Homelander, choked into you…But you knew you couldn’t sleep here. So you booked a hotel room for the night, hoping maybe the receptionist wouldn't notice the bruises on your neck.But while you walked there, tears streaming down your cheeks as you hugged yourself to keep the cool night air out of your jacket, you were approached by a man named Billy Butcher. The two of you had a lengthy conversation outside of the hotel regarding the truth behind Homelander, The Seven, and Vought as a whole. Then he made you an offer you couldn’t refuse: a chance to get back at Homelander. A chance to bring yourself justice, as well as bring justice to the others he had hurt in his desperate pursuit of ultimate power. Of course…you agreed. 

You had kept in touch with Butcher the following week on a burner phone he had given you, knowing that Vought had most likely bugged all of your personal technology…and on your next day off? You met him at a location that was unknown to you, one you would soon come to be familiar with. As he ushered you down the wooden stairs of the unknown building, you weren't met with the most reassuring of environments. Drug paraphernalia, along with various illegal weapons, and full ammo boxes littered the expanse of the rather unwelcoming looking hideout. You stopped at the bottom step and pointed to a literal stack of plastic bags containing what you could only assume was coke.

“That’s…” you swallowed, “That’s coke.” Butcher, who had been guiding you down the stairs with his hand on your lower back, laughed and shook his head.

“That’s right, love. Bags of coke.” Billy said with a small chuckle as he patted your back and stepped onto the broken concrete floor of the basement, greeting the others that inhabited the space. The first person you noticed was a rather lengthy looking young man who looked to be around the same age as you with slightly curly brown hair. Admittedly, you thought he dressed like a twelve year old. He was seated on a questionable looking couch, next to an older man with a bigger build and a darker complexion…who looked like he could snap you in half with little to no effort. Your gaze then flickered further into the room, and your gaze landed on a man who was around the same height as you. Not exactly tall…but not short either. The man in question had a buzz cut, a piercing on his left ear, and was wearing an orange and black tie-dyed shirt, along with cargo pants. He was seated on one of the tables that housed various pieces of drug paraphernalia, and was seemingly using a business card to arrange lines of coke on the back of an old phone book that sat on his lap.

“Well boys…here they are. This is Y/N L/N.” Butcher interrupted your silent evaluation as he addressed the room. He walked back to your side and put a hand on your shoulder, moving to point to the younger man on the couch. “That poor bastard there is Hughie,” he moved to the man next to him, “that's MM,” and finally…he pointed to the man sitting on the table. “That’s Frenchie.” Frenchie pulled his head away from the phonebook, white power dusted on his nose.

“Bonjour-” He said, cutting himself off with a sniffle as he wiped the coke from his nose. Oh, that's why they called him Frenchie. You narrowed your eyes, the greetings of the two other men falling on deaf ears as you looked Frenchie over. Clearly something important had been said during the duration of your staring, because you were knocked out of your thoughts by a firm nudge to the shoulder by Butcher.

“Oi, Hellen Keller! Are you up for it or not?” Butcher asked. He realized you hadn’t heard him and narrowed his eyes with a sigh. “We’re going to meet up with an info plug…You can either come or stay here with Frenchie.” You sort of just panicked and blurted out an answer, not wanting to ask any dumb questions about the info plug.

“I’ll stay…with uh, Frenchie.” You said. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You weren’t an overly judgy person, you really weren't…but you couldn’t help but feel a bit of trepidation regarding staying alone with a man who had done coke off the back of a dirty phone book within the first minute of you meeting him. Butcher smirked when he saw the look of regret on your face.

“Right then. We’ll be back, love.” He said, gesturing for Hughie and MM to follow him out. “Make yourself at home.” With that, the three made their way up the stairs, leaving you alone with Frenchie. You took the moment of awkward silence that followed them leaving to look around the basement, your feet glued to the floor of course. The walls of the space were composed of a skeleton made of wooden posts, which were filled in with a mixture of red brick, and the same color of concrete that the floor was made of. The walls in question were littered with spray painted tags of many different colors, most of which you couldn’t read, due to the fact that they were in a different language, but they were oddly beautiful nonetheless. The lighting in the room, just a few hanging light bulbs, added to the strange ambiance of the room.

“You are Wild Card…Yes?” The silence was broken by Frenchie, who was still sitting on the table, but now facing your direction. You turned to him and nodded, albeit awkwardly.

“Yeah…Yeah. That's me. Just call me Y/N, though.” You said, trying your best to give a convincing smile.

“Y/N…” He nodded as he repeated your name, “Oui. A good name.” He looked at you for a moment, almost waiting for you to respond. When you didn't, he pursed his lips and blinked. “Remind me, Y/N…What are your powers exactly?” You sighed when he asked that. It was always strange explaining what exactly your powers were.

You were called Wild Card for a reason. While you were powerful…using your powers was sort of like playing a game of russian roulette, only with the gun pointed towards the other person. You could do a multitude of different things, along with the constant of your strength, speed, and agility. You could create different balls of explosive matter, you could manipulate and use the moisture present in the air for multiple different attacks, along with a few other niche things. The problem was…you never knew which would happen beforehand. All you could go off was the feeling you felt in your palms. You weren’t exactly the most reliable Supe abilities wise…but every one of your random attacks was extremely powerful, making you a good person to throw into the mix if things aren't going well for the rest of your team, which is why you were a valuable member to add to The Seven.

“Uhm…Have you ever played Uno before? Like the card game?” You asked. Frenchie nodded. “Well it’s kinda like when you put a wild card down in Uno, and you get to pick a color…Except you pick the color blindly.” Frenchie sort of stared at you for a moment, before he started laughing. You tensed up when you heard him laugh, but you tried to laugh along, due to the fact that you couldn’t tell if he was laughing with you or at you. “Forgive me, mon cher-” He stifled a laugh before continuing, “that is the silliest thing I've ever heard.” At that comment, you frowned, taking a step back even though you were across the room from each other.

“Silly? It’s not silly at all…I’m pretty powerful, all things considered-”

“But you just use it blindly?” He asked with a chuckle. “What happens when you want to shoot a fireball or something, but you summon a child’s teddy to your hand instead?” That ticked you off. Who the hell was he to insult your powers? He was a druggie, and didn't even have any.

“How can you sit there and insult me when you were doing lines off the back of a 30 year old phonebook when I walked in?” You asked, your words coming out a bit more spiteful than you had intended. Frenchie narrowed his eyes, but tried to shake off his anger. He wasn’t fond of fighting with people over small things, especially not when intoxicated. 

“Ah…I see…” He said with a chuckle that you could only describe as pathetic, “All Supes really do have an ego, don't they?” He asked, hopping off the table he was sitting on.

“Hey! You've known me for five minutes and you're already making assumptions about me?” You balled your fists and took an accusatory step forward. Frenchie raised a brow.

“And I’m safe to assume that you’ve already painted this image of me in your head like some sort of druggie asshole?” Damn. He got you with that one. But alas…You were too prideful to let him have the last word. You scoffed.

“Maybe I’ll change my opinions when you’ve done something other than do drugs and laugh at me.” You said with a roll of your eyes. You weren't a conflictive person…But the last few days had been long and hard, so you couldn't exactly help it.

“Ditto, mon amour.” He said, his face painted with an absolutely infuriating smirk.

“Fuck you.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know nothing about me.”

“Eh bien, va te faire foutre toi aussi.” He said, almost matter-of-factly, mocking your current stance. You didn’t speak French, but you could only assume he had said something insulting back. Well, fuck you too. You were about to spit something back, but thankfully, Butcher came walking back down the wooden stairs, an eyebrow raised.

“Everything's alright down here, love?” He asks, the look on his face a mix between suspicion and curiosity. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine.” You said, your tone strained. Butcher then looked over to Frenchie, who simply gave a thumbs up before leaning down to do another line off the phonebook. You huffed and rolled your eyes. You were too exhausted to say anything else.

The nerve of this man.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think it's safe to say this mini series is going to be lots of fun! I love Frenchie as a character, and it was really fun to come up with a fun Supe persona for the reader! I hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for part 2! I'm also working on a taglist form so keep an eye out for that! Adieu!

Masterlist

[animentality]