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hekate1308 · 7 years

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Renunciation

Things are slowly heating up. Enjoy!

“So I’ve been working“ Claire says instead of a greeting when he picks up.

Cas is immediately worried – he of all people should know some hunters tend to run into dangerous situations without thinking of consequences first – but he’s learned that she won’t respond well should he choose to express this, so he asks “On what?”

She chuckles.

“I can tell you’re freaking out. Don’t worry, I’m safe and well. Listen. Since you obviously don’t want me on the front line, since you didn’t even tell me someone’s trying to kill all of you, I thought I could do some... campaigning.”

“Campaigning?”

“Yeah. I talked to Jody. Turns out not those she and others contacted are standing behind you – “

“We are aware, but we think that with the support we have – “

“I get that, but it’s always better to have more friends, right?”

She pauses, probably for dramatic effect, as teenagers are wont to do.

“So I have been talking to their kids – well, of those who have them, anyway.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, Cas, it’s easy. Being neutral is fine and all, but you can’t ignore planned genocide forever, not even if you’re a hunter who only sees black and white. You might be able to contradict your peers, fine enough. But if a nice young girl befriends your nice young girl and your nice young girl learns the truth about the Winchesters she’s only ever heard crazy stories about before... you guys are legends, by the way. It’s insane.”

“We do our best” he deadpans, hoping it will get a chuckle out of her. It does.

“So eleven more hunter families at the east coast are keeping their eyes open.”

“Claire, that’s... thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just stay safe, alright? And invite me to the wedding.”

“Dean and I aren’t en- oh. That was a joke.”

“Getting better all the time. Talk to you soon, Cas!”

“Take care of yourself, Claire.”

He will be eternally grateful for the bond he’s developed with Jimmy Novak’s daughter. He sends a short prayer of thanks to his father before he goes to tell Dean and the others of the newest developments.

They’ve developed a routine of sorts. Dean jokingly refers to the room next to the library they’ve filled with the information their contacts give them as their “war room”. Usually at least one of them can be found there at this time of the day.

He enters to find Mick checking out their map of the west coast. He’s busy circling towns he considers as probably desirable for the Men of Letters to stay at. They’re too smart to risk being taken down in one swoop.

And yet that’s exactly what they are planning. The Men of Letters don’t know how far their network reaches, thanks to Crowley having used the loopholes the spell he was under allowed and them feeding him false information during that time.

That reminds him –

“Have you seen Crowley?”

He wasn’t at breakfast today for the first time since Rowena lifted the spell, and according to Dean, the talk they shared last night was “intense”. Maybe Crowley needs some time for himself.

Cas a feeling how this story will end.

He’s already lived through it.

“No. But I don’t think he’s in trouble. The Men of Letters know better than to try something that already failed.”

He nods, noting that Mick doesn’t bat an eyelid anymore when he mentions his former employers. He’s found a place for himself in their midst remarkably quickly.

Certainly faster than Cas ever decided he wished to stay with Dean.

“Cas? Are you alright?”

He blinks.

“Yes. I just... remembered something.”

Mick grimaces.

“I know how that feels like.”

His phone rings and his face lights up. With a polite excuse, he brushes past Cas.

And the former angel knows exactly how this feels like, he reflects with a smile.

Falling in love.

He’s aware that... problems may arise with the budding romance they’re witnessing. Mel is a water wraith, a creature meant to live for centuries, and she does not possess the luxury that Cas had. She can never become human.

But then, she wouldn’t if she could. Mel is her own spirit, she is one with her element. She knows what she wants... and for the time being, it’s Mick.

Cas hopes their friend won’t get hurt.

Dean comes into the room.

“Hey. Mick’s busy talking.”

He grins the easy, happy grin Cas has gotten used to ever since they set off on the road together, and as always, his heart skips a beat.

“Claire called. She has been “campaigning”.

Dean chuckles and kisses him.

“Should have known she wouldn’t stay put. So what did she say?”

When Cas is done bringing him up to speed, they hear the tell-tale heavy steps of the golem.

Dean smiles.

“Aaron got a little distracted by the Hebrew section of our library today. Apparently he already found three texts he believed were no longer available.”

“Crowley really stocked it well” he responds. “By the way, have you seen him?”

“No. Don’t expect to. Trust me, he just needs some time alone, is all.”

He relaxes. Dean knows Crowley well. If he says there’s nothing to worry about, there isn’t.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks Aaron and Matan after they’ve come in.

Aaron grins speepishly.

“Sorry. But the text I found may give me some close how to unravel their necromancing spell once and for all...”

“Don’t be sorry, that’s great news.” Dean nudges him. “Cas here has some too. His kind of-daughter has been working for us.”

“Not my daughter, Dean.”

“Close enough.”

“She’s yours too, then” he teases him, his beloved blushing and looking away.

He’d make a wonderful father, Cas is sure. Dean is great with children.

And perhaps, who knows, once things have settled down...

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on the thought.

After Sam has joined them and Mick has come back from his phone call, still smiling happily, everyone except Crowley knows about the newest development.

He saves them from trying to contact him by crashing into the war room a moment later.

“What the – Crowley!”

Dean hastens to help him up.

“You alright? Were the Men of Letters – “

“No” he admits, grimacing. He doesn’t appear to be injured, although his suit is dirty and torn.

“Demons.”

“Demons? Don’t they know better than to attack you?”

Crowley dis- and a moment later reappears with a glass in his hand.

“That’s better”. He takes a huge gulp.

“I went to Hell. I figured if I could get enough support, I might be able to break the wardings as I did before.”

“What happened?” Cas asks.

“Turns out, the reason I saw no one during my last short visit is that they are not exactly keen on my leadership.”

“We knew that before” Dean comments.

“Yeah, and you’ve always been able to reel them in, right?”

“Not this time. Turns out...” he trails off.

It’s Matan who guesses the answer.

“Your true face has changed.”

Crowley nods.

“Your – what does that mean?” Dean demands at the same time as Sam requires, “Was it the spell?”

Crowley shoots him a look that’s... almost offended.

And Cas understands.

All the time he had under the spell to think about what he wants and where he belongs, his talk with Dean, his admission that he hates Hell...

“No it wasn’t” he says simply.

Crowley nods.

“I’m afraid yours truly has become too good to lead Hell.”

“So what happens now? Is there someone else?”

He smirks.

“No, don’t worry. The Princes and Knights of Hell are either uninterested in taking over or dead. And there is no one around who could do what I have done. They wouldn’t even attack me. They’re scared of the changes the golem’s noticed.”

“But then why...” Dean gestures towards his suit.

“Using that to tell them what I thought of them once and for all might not have been the best idea” Crowley admits.

Dean groans.

“You didn’t.”

“Can you blame me? They’re all these whiny, egotistical, annoying sons of bitches who can’t understand why they haven’t taken over the earth despite being dumb as bricks!”

“Tell us how you really feel. You got away okay, right?”

“Yes. They tried, but most were still too scared to do anything, and I’ve still got my powers.”

“So you’re not the King of Hell anymore?” Aaron asks.

“I have resigned.”

“Pah”. Dean shakes his head, taking Cas’ hand. “A honorific can easily be bestowed. You’ll always be King to us, right guys?”

“Definitely very... kingly” Cas lightly agrees.

Now, dirty and hated by demonkind, more than ever. He almost wishes he were still an angel so he could see the changes in Crowley’s soul.

He squeezes Dean’s hand.

Almost.

“The royal family has got nothing like him” Mick says.

“A reformed demon is worth all of Hell” Matan announces.

Sam actually raises his hand for a fist bump, which Cas can see surprises Crowley.

Yes, they’ve changed a lot since the King of Hell first showed up and helped him and Dean deal with that dragon two years ago.

“Sadly this means I won’t be able to break through their security” Crowley explains, downing his glass.

“We’ll just have to find another way, then”. Dean turns and looks at Matan.

“I assume you can break Brits as easily as Nazis?”

“Of course. I can do anything my rabbi orders me to.”

“Requests. What he requests” Aaron is quick to correct him.

He was hesitant about the whole aspect of ownership from the first, Dean told Cas.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Sam asks. “According to Lizzie, they expect more reinforcements”.

“Quite frankly, I’m tired of these bastards running around our country. I think it’s time we throw them out.”

“Alright then, time to attack. I can get behind that” Crowley replies.

“Yes, there’s just...” Dean trails off.

Cas is still holding his hand. He can guess what his beloved will say next. He’s been thinking about it ever since Rowena left.

“I think we should try and talk to Mary again”.

“What?” Sam splutters. “Dean, she called you a monster! She’s not interested in – “

“I am not saying we should give her a get out of jail free card. Hell, I’m not even saying call her Mom and try to grovel hoping we can somehow get her back. All I’m saying is we try to reach out and explain to her what we’ve been doing one last time, without giving anything away, of course. And if she still insists that all monsters must be eradicated and that I am one of them... That me and Cas and Crowley are monsters, than that’s it. One more chance to listen. That’s all she gets.”

The brothers share a long look.

Eventually Sam nods.

“Alright. Just one more try. And if she doesn’t want to listen...”

“She’s going down with the rest of them” Dean finishes.

#destiel #my writings #season 12 au

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tessatechaitea · 7 years

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Justice League of America #5

Lobo!

Notice the shirt? Lobo! Notice the eyes? LSD!

This issue begins in Penn City where somebody dropped a Buddhist Love Bomb in a garbage can. At least that's what I think is in the garbage can based on the first three panels. The bomb is the head of some poor bastard with a grenade strapped in his mouth in the way that your lover straps a ball gag in your mouth before your lover pegs the fuck out of you. Also strapped to the bomb's head is a lotus flower. That's why I'm guessing it's a Buddhist Love Bomb. I just now typed "Lotus Flower" into Google to see if I maybe shouldn't just be saying "Lotus" and Google's predictive text added "bomb" to the end of it. Holy shit, is that a real thing?! No, no. It looks like it's a rap song by Wale featuring Miguel. Remember that bit about how old I am? Yeah, never heard of that song. Later, the Justice League of America has decided to give a press conference to basically say they're better than the Justice League and more in touch with the common people and probably way more patriotic in that they have "America" in their name, in case you missed that part. Batman does not attend because he's a public relations nightmare. He would probably just tell all of the reporters that their questions were stupid. Oh! Is Batman's secret identity Sean Spicer?! Vixen tells everybody that the JLA used to call their base the "Secret Sanctuary" but that that seemed way too pedophiliac for their liking. Plus, if a reporter heard that before they had claimed it at this press conference, it probably would have cast suspicion on their organization. So instead, they're opening up the front half of the mountain to the public and calling it Mount Justice! People should feel free to come by to file complaints and drink some free coffee and possibly be seduced by Lobo.

Duh, Lana Lang! That's what practically the definition of America! Although you left out the "according to our own interests and with complete disregard to the will of the populace of the country we're sticking our noses into" part.

Ben Rubel, Supergirl's rival and future fuck interest, points out that according to the rumor mill, Lobo has taken "countless" lives, so why is that maniac on the team? Most of the other reporters have previously hit puberty, so they already know the answer to that question. It's easy to forgive somebody for genocide when you want to fuck their alien brains out. Vixen says Lobo will save one life for every one he's ever taken. That's impossible! I bet even if he single-handedly saves every life on Earth from some massive comet or alien invasion, he still won't be close to saving a life for every one he's killed! Hopefully he can save the same life multiple times and it will count. Olivia Ortega, some reporter from Gotham who isn't Vicki Vale for some reason, asks why Batman isn't at the press conference. Vixen says Batman stands by whatever she says instead of saying, "We're in Rhode Island, honey. Gotham is not in Rhode Island. Duh." I think I'd be as bad as Batman at press conferences.

Oh ho! What a clever retort, The Ray!

I guess Frances Rock is Frank Rock's granddaughter. I bet her high school clique was called "Easy Company." Sex joke! Nikos Aegeus (otherwise known as simply Aegeus) got his start in terrorism when he met a blind and crippled Bellerophon² who gave him the means to tame Pegasus and a quiver of Zeus's thunderbolts. Now he sells weapons created from folklore! That sounds exciting! Plus, it shows he respects rap music enough to realize it's impact on folklore and culture. Unless he thought up the Lotus Flower Bomb due to some other story from The Bible that I don't remember. I mean, it could be from somewhere else but like I said earlier (or later since it's in a footnote), The Bible has all the stories in it. Aegeus is currently attempting to sell a bunch of wacky weapons to The Whispers gang from Gotham. And since it's still dark, I'm guessing it's not yet tomorrow (which is the only day Ray pointed out everybody doesn't work under Aegeus's terrorist threat. I suppose the day after tomorrow, they'll get back to it).

Oh, so Batman can maim but Lobo³ isn't allowed? What a fucking bat-jerk.

I guess the plan is for Lobo to beat up all of Aegeus's men (carefully, so as not to maim them, of course! Lobo is totally known for being careful!) while the rest of the team have coffee and cakes? That sounds good to me! More Lobo! Less all the other dimwits! Lobo accuses Batman of being a dick and Batman is all, "I don't have to explain myself to you!" So Lobo is all, "Cool, cool." Then he flips Bats off British Style and walks off to do his job. I hope he kills a few people every job and hides them before Batman can see and Batman, thinking Lobo's "honor" keeps him from doing all sorts of stuff Batman never actually specified in the beginning of the deal, lives in enough of a state of denial to keep from noticing. But then it'll come out that everywhere the Justice League of America has been, bodies begin turning up buried all around the places they battled! Then Superman will be all, "I told you this was a bad idea!" And Alfred will be all, "I told you this was a bad idea!" And Vixen will be all, "I told you this was a bad idea!" And the government will be all, "You are an accessory to these murders and are sentenced to life in prison!" Lobo beats up some bulldozers and then breaks into the Mayor's Office where Aegeus and his men are holed up.

Uh oh! I think that constitutes maiming!

Lobo is suspicious of Batman's reasons for bringing him on the team. My guess is that he's the team hit-eater. You send him in first when you're unsure of the weaponry of the enemy and then figure out a plan based on how badly Lobo's body has been damaged by the attack. Lobo greets Aegeus with a great line I'm not bothering to scan. Lobo's met with a spear to the chest which drops him to his knees because it's covered in a poison that halts regeneration. Oh no! Is that all it's taken, all this time, to kill Lobo?! Seems like a bit of a cheat. Like how almost everything nowadays is immune to Green Lantern Light. It's always about negating the thing that's too powerful instead of coming up with an imaginative way to make the too powerful thing interesting in terms of story. Although, really, this is kind of clever because Aegeus is using ancient weapons from folklore and, apparently, this poison was used by Heracles. While Lobo and The Atom (he was hiding in Lobo's underwear) deal with Aegeus, the rest of the Justice League of America chastise the residents of Penn City. They also give them some hope that they'll drive the main employer out of town and then Batman will cut them all checks so they stop acting like criminals. Or maybe Wayne Industries will just set up a weapons manufacturing plant in the city himself since the citizens all of experience crafting weapons now. And Batman doesn't mind weapons being created as long as, like America, he's in control of them. Lobo gets blasted out of the Mayor's Office and into the park next to the Justice League of America where he reports that he failed and is probably dying. Then he points out that Aegeus's army hasn't been destroyed and they're right behind them flying in on a battalion of chimeras. I guess next issue, everybody will be killed by chimeras. The Ranking! I know Lobo won't die. But I'm just going to point out that if he did happen to die, or he just happened to be removed from the team, or if he in any way stops appearing in this comic book, it will no longer be the best comic book that DC currently publishes. It will, in fact, be the worst one because I will punish it more harshly than I'd punish a comic book written and drawn by Rob Liefeld with a back-up story by Ann Nocenti. _____________________________ ¹Okay, that was a cheap shot. The Bible actually has some quite beautiful poetry in it. It's just that the people who believe it's more than it is that make me want to shit all over it. Plus, everybody who is interested in Western Literature needs to fucking read The Bible. If you don't know The Bible and you think you understand every book you read or every movie you watch, you need to think again. You're almost certainly missing several themes and allusions and references to biblical stories. Hell, you even need to know The Bible to understand Bugs Bunny's biggest contribution to insulting asshats. ²I highly recommend John Barth's Chimera as well as pretty much anything written by John Barth. Although some of his books seem a bit too much like work so you might want to start with his shorter stuff which will get you intrigued enough to slog through the really long shit. Although I'm not sure if Giles Goat-Boy was really worth the effort I expended on it. Although I did masturbate a few times to the scene with the summer dress. Woo boy! Good stuff! I wonder if I should attempt to read The Sot-Weed Factor again or just reread The Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor? ³What's up with Lobo's hair? He looks like Bon Jovi! This is getting perilously close to another version of Twat Lobo!

#Lobo #Justice League of America #DC Comics #Steve Orlando #Andy MacDonald #John Rauch

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mysteryfanfictheatre3000 · 7 years

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Back to the Frollo, Chapter 11

Warning: everyone has a nervous breakdown.

Chapter Eleven

"I do believe the ball was about this size", Claude Frollo said as he held up a hefty Rome Beauty. "I thought you didn't want to be reminded of that 'unfortunate incident', Claude", I said as I nodded my approval of the apples he had chosen. We ended a full day's activities and Claude was getting tired. I could always tell when he's had enough, for he appeared clearly agitated and became easily irritated at the slightest provocation. Come to think of it, he was in a similar mood on that fateful day.

He’s in a similar mood literally all the time, because he’s crazy!

I reminded myself to tread softly whenever he gets this way, especially when brought on by too much work, or, in this case, too much pleasure. On the way home, Claude looked at me and said, "Danisha, looking back on it, the whole incident was so insignificant. Yet, we nearly lost each other..."

Let me guess, something stupid and insignificant happened and it’s going to be treated like it’s a travesty.

Within minutes we wheeled into my driveway. Once inside, Claude started a cozy fire while I unpacked cider, apples, and gingerbread. I called out to Claude, "Do you still like lots of cinnamon and nutmeg in your cider, baby?" No response. "Claude, did you hear me?" I walked into the living room to find Claude Frollo stretched out in front of the fireplace, sound asleep. Poor thing. All that running around really wore him out, I guess our treat will have to wait.

The constant referral to a middle-aged pervert as a “poor thing” is creeping me the hell out. Even if he weren’t a genocidal murderer it would be weird.

I gently covered him with a blanket, snuggled next to him, and pondered his words, "We nearly lost each other." And all because of the unfortunate combination of a pleasant afternoon, an ill-tempered official, and an errant baseball.

****** What a glorious afternoon! The Parisian summer proved to be quite pleasant, nothing like the oppressive hot, humid days back home.

Wouldn’t it be worse, because of the lack of deodorant, perfume, frequent baths and any other basic hygiene, and also no AC? Everything would be gross and hot and smelly.

Fern had left Paris a few days before because she had promised her son a trip to Texas before he started his second year at college. Fern didn't want to leave me alone in Paris but she had no choice. "Can you manage to keep yourself occupied while I'm gone?", she asked.

“Yeah, bye, just gonna abandon you in the 1400s because my adult son wants a vacation.”

"Sure, Fern. Go on. Have a good time", I said, adding, "I'll stay out of trouble. Promise." Fern hugged me good-bye, "Good! Keep it that way. I don't want to return and find you stuffed in the stocks...or worse." I knew she was referring to Claude Frollo, but I wasn't worried; Claude and I were on friendly terms. What could possibly go wrong?

He could try to burn you to death?

The kids had begged me to teach them some new games, so I brought out all this playground stuff: jump ropes, balls, and baseball equipment. I was hesitant about bringing the baseball stuff, knowing that it would be nearly 400 years before the game's invention, but what the heck: Just throw the ball and hit it, what's so difficult about that?

Why and how did she get the equipment to play these games? And why are all the parents in the city just A-OK with letting their kids hang out with this strange lady from a place that does not yet exist? It seems like they’d be accusing her of witchcraft or something, not making her the village babysitter.

The children were truly fascinated with learning baseball. I'll admit, for 15th century kids, they quickly picked up on the game. I took the kids to the square near the Palace of Justice to practice pitching and hitting. One little boy had a tough time swinging the bat, and I, being the patient teacher I am, offered to show him the proper swinging technique.

Oh, I can see where this is going.

Now I'm not the athletic type; in fact, the last time I held a bat was in high school, and I was lucky I could hit the ball. "Here, honey", taking the bat in my hands, "let me show you. Keep your eye on the ball." A little girl with a potent pitching arm threw a fast ball. I missed it. The kids started laughing, but I was cool about it. "Okay, so I'm a little rusty. That's all right, baby", I told her, "just pitch it again."

If she’s so abysmal at sports, why is she obsessed with teaching them to play?

She pitched it hard and fast this time, and, with a stroke of luck, I hit it! Crack! The sound of the ball against the wooden bat was like heavenly music. Then I heard the shattering of glass, a sound every ballplayer dreads. Sure enough, I had hit the ball with such force, it sailed up and across the square, and straight through Judge Frollo's window.

This is the most cliche meet-cute outside of “oh, no, I just happened to crash into you and spill all my papers and OMG I’m such a klutzy klutz!”

The kids were visibly frightened, for they knew Frollo would surely and severely punish them, but I told them not to worry. It was my ball and I broke the window. . I'll just apologize, offer to pay for damages, and he'll forgive me. End of story. I had no inkling of what was to transpire between us as I ascended the Palace steps. Come on, I swallowed hard as I knocked at the door leading to his study, he'll forgive you. After all, we're friends...right?

He doesn’t really have positive relationships with anyone in the movie/musical this was based on, especially with women. In the show, he was awful to his brother and his only interaction with Floricka involved shoving her onto the ground. In both, he was horrifically abusive to Quasimodo for no reason. He was awful to Esmeralda (in the play, tried to rape her in front of her boyfriend!) and then tried to murder her (and succeeded, in the play.) He just isn’t a friendly guy, period.

"Come in, Danisha," Claude softly said. I briskly entered the room and immediately began atoning for my carelessness. "Oh, Claude, I'm so SORRY about the window. I'll help pay for it, I swear I will. We shouldn't have been playing so close..." Claude Frollo shot me a look that could melt the polar icecaps. "Give me one good reason why I should not arrest you now."

Now this is more in-character.

I was taken aback. Surely he wouldn't punish me even after I apologized. "Claude, I said I was sorry. What else do you want? Look, I'll work it off...help pay for replacing the window. I'll wash all the windows. I'll even scrub the floors with a toothbrush. Just say you accept my apology."

Toothbrushes didn’t exist then, did they?

Claude pondered a bit, still staring icily at me. Finally, he said, "You have admitted your guilt, offered an apology, and I must say I'm touched by your offer to pay for the damages. However, horrible as it is, I must do my duty."

And we’re slipping out of character again…

I trembled with fear and anger. I was afraid of being punished and angry that Claude Frollo, a man who professed to be my 'friend', could once again turn on me just like that. "How can you do this? I thought we we're friends. We were really getting along..." Claude interrupted, "Oh my dear Nisha, we are still friends, but..." He paused in mid-sentence, then snapped his fingers and said, "I have an idea! Working off the debt does seem like a viable alternative. You shall perform so many hours of work, I'll forget this little incident, and all's well." Claude offered a slight smile as I sighed with relief, "Claude, I don't know...thank you."

And that one little moment of actually being in-character is gone. It was fun while it lasted, but alas, all good things must come to an end.

Then I added, "Now that's over, may I please have my ball?" Claude Frollo looked at me with twinkling eyes, then walked over to his desk and deposited the ball in a drawer. "I'll return this offending party when your debt is satisfied, and no sooner."

With twinkling eyes. Like a messed up, genocidal, overly religious Dumbledore.

My eyes were wide with disbelief! "That was a special autographed ball! I caught that last year and waited in line for God-knows how long for...How could you?"

If it was a special autographed ball, why did she let a bunch of kids play with it where it could easily get lost? And why is the loss of an autographed baseball treated like more of a tragedy than all the other screwed up stuff Frollo’s done?!

"Let me repeat. You shall have your ball once you fulfill your punishment." Claude walked over to the broken window and traced the jagged glass remains. "You shall start tomorrow. I'll have ready a list of duties to be performed. Do try to be on time, my dear." He flashed a wide, wicked grin, his voice was cold and distant. I wanted to sock him, really ram my fist into his smug, smiling face.

He’s letting you off easy, dude! Be happy he didn’t murder you or have you beaten to death! He burned down a city because Esmeralda had the heinous crime of being pretty, I don’t even want to know what he would do to someone who broke his property.

"And how long will this punishment last?" "The remainder of your vacation", came his quick response. "You can't do that! What will I tell Fern? What about Quasi? The kids?..." I was too angry to speak any more. Claude walked up behind me, hissing in my ear, "Well, Danisha dear, you should have thought of that before. Now, take your punishment or else..."

Or else he’ll brutally torture you to death. Doing some chores is tame in comparison.

"Or else what?...you know, I really should knock you out!" And with that, I swung around and was ready to deliver a perfect right hook, but Claude quickly grabbed my arm and I found myself locked against him. "You lowdown, mean son-of-a...let me go!", I screamed as I struggled to free myself.

This is like that scene where he gropes Esmeralda and sniffs her hair. Except Danisha deserves it.

Claude Frollo wickedly laughed in my ear, "You really are a WILD one!" The more he laughed, the angrier I became. I kept struggling in his grasp - Damn, but he was strong! - and called him every filthy name I could think of. I kicked, I screamed, and, in a last-ditch move, I locked my foot behind his, knocking us off balance. In a tangle of black velvet and blue calico, we tumbled to the floor, with me still kicking and flailing away. Somehow, C ab8 laude managed to pin me down on my back.

C ab8 laude? How do you make a typo that bad?

"How DARE you! How DARE you!", he said through clenched teeth as he pinned down my arms. I couldn't move an inch; he was that strong. "Claude! All right! I give up! Just let me go!" Visions of me dangling from a rope, stretched out on the rack, or, I shuddered, tied to a stake raced through my mind. "Claude!", I begged, "Didn't you hear me? I said I give..."

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that if you meet a guy and he grabs you and won’t let you go, it probably isn’t going to be a healthy relationship.

Without warning, Claude's mouth came crashing down on mine. I tried to free myself, but his kiss...it was so physical, insistant, intensely passionate. Claude relaxed his grip, I stopped fighting, and soon my arms encircled him. His hands were entangled in my hair, and mine stroked his soft iron gray locks. I could feel myself tremble with enjoyment, but my mind kept fighting what my body was feeling.

This is literally sexual assault.

Suddenly, Claude released me, sat up, and looked at me with pained eyes. "Oh, my darling", he said with panting breath, "I didn't mean...Oh, Danisha, please forgive me." I was too angry, too confused to say anything. All I could do was fight back tears. As I got to my feet, Claude caught my hand, kissed it, but I pulled away. "Please", he begged, tears streaming down his face, "stay with me." He reached out to me again, but I stood my ground. Through tears I said, "I wish I never came to Paris, I wish I never met you."

I wish you never came to Paris too, because then this story wouldn’t exist. But here we are, and here I am. Sigh.

I fumbled through my skirt pocket and pulled out a coin. Just before I turned to leave, I tossed it to him. "What is this?', asked Claude, his voice still quavering. "In the immortal words of Travis Tritt: 'Here's a Quarter, Call Someone Who Cares'.

That makes absolutely no sense in the context of this story. Does Frollo even know what a quarter is?

I walked out of the room, only to hear Claude Frollo's booming voice behind me, "Get out! Get out of my sight, out of Paris, and out of my life!"

He sounds like an emo teen yelling at his mom. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND MY LIFE!”

I then heard the crashing of books and furniture. I paused outside the door and I could hear him say "Damn her!", over and over, punctuated by muffled sobs.

He’s crying over this…? Does he not have the entire Cathedral Guard at his disposal? If he was really so upset, he could just throw a hissy fit in the same vein as what he did with Esmeralda. It would be even easier, because Danisha’s a complete moron. Esmeralda was smart enough to evade him; ‘Nisha is too dumb for that.

I almost re-entered the room; I actually began opening the door, but then I decided, who cares -- Let him have his tantrum. Then I walked out of the Palace of Justice for what I thought would be the very last time. Once home, I started packing my things. Heck, I wouldn't even wait for Fern. I'll hitch a ride on a boat to England, stow away on one of those spice-and-silk trips to the Orient. Whatever. I desperately needed to get out of Paris and out of Claude Frollo's life.

You’re going to abandon your friends and family and be forever trapped in the past because you made Frollo mad? Everyone overreacts so much to mundane things and ignores important stuff (like genocide!) it’s bemusing.

#back to the frollo #danisha #The Hunchback of Notre Dame #Claude frollo

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