#grad school has me so twisted

[kummatty]

I miss movies I rly do

[lady-harrowhark]

lol not me crying because someone from my program texted me to ask how i was doing and that they hadn't seen me around in a while

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

(coming soon) summary: After a steamy encounter with a sinfully handsome man in New Orleans, Camille DeWaterson returns to her life as a soon-to-be-married paralegal in Houston, Texas. But the incident becomes difficult to forget when the otherworldly stranger waltzes into her law firm, bringing a series of strange and enticing events with him. Terrence “Terry” Richmond, is an incredibly disciplined, calculating, and ambitious individual, at least… that’s what he is to the average mortal. But in reality, he’s a bloodthirsty supernatural with a keen interest for money, power, and beautiful women. When the gorgeous Camille DeWaterson slips from his grasp one fateful night in New Orleans, he vows to track her down and make her his bride. It doesn’t matter to him that she already has a fiancé or a commitment to join two families together. He isn’t going to rest until she belongs to him… body, mind and soul.

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

a/n: hi :) I saw a request for a vampire Terry Richmond fic where Terry is a home wrecker. I waited and waited for someone to pick it up but no one has so I said let me give it a try lmaoo. I’m fairly new to tumblr and I haven’t written on here before, so please be gentle with me. I’ll try my best to include the right warnings and tags. Also, I haven’t written a fanfic in over 8 years 😭 so again, please be kind. This is just something I want to do to have an outlet during my last semester of grad school. A few heads up for this story:

it will be at least 15 parts

I plan to update every Friday

each part will be long (5k+ words)

the story will have dark themes, including dark sexual themes. This is for 18+ audiences only

For now, here is a snippet of the story. I hope you all enjoy :)

warnings: stalking, breaking and entering, light smut? (panty stealing, panty sniffing), mentions of alcohol and drugs

Terry knew it was twisted. Breaking into his colleague's apartment to find the best way to ruin his life was abhorrent by human standards. But he wasn’t human. He hasn’t been human for centuries. So he didn’t give a fuck. Aston McCoy was the one thing standing in the way of him getting his hands on his prize, Camille DeWaterson.

Holding her.

Taking care of her.

Fucking her.

Worshipping her.

When Terry first placed his eyes on Camille during her sister’s bachelorette festivities in New Orleans a month ago, he vowed to move heaven and earth to have her all to himself. So if he had to pursue a little breaking and entering to set his plan into motion, so be it.

Terry's footsteps were silent to the average ear as he sauntered around the luxurious loft. He gazed at the expensive minimalist furniture, carefully curated wall decor, and the artificial plants that were strategically placed in the living area. Sterile, boring, and safe. The signs of a young white man who desperately wanted to be taken seriously and belong in the upper echelons of society. Terry smirked and shook his head. Throughout his long, long life, Terry had run into men like Aston at every turn. Slave owners, military officials, mob bosses… white men who had the world at their feet but were always at the risk of slipping and falling. All it took was one blow from Terry and they were tumbling to the ground. Aston McCoy would be no different.

Although he was amused by the pathetic apartment, Terry grew irritated as he stalked through the space. There were no signs that McCoy had a vice as he rummaged through drawers and closets. No bottles of booze. No baggies of coke. No anonymous flash drives. Nothing that could be easily used against him. Terry scoffed, feeling his eyebrows push together as he approached the last doorway in the apartment. McCoy’s bedroom. He entered the room lazily, expecting further disappointment. But his eyes widened as they settled on the central point of the room: the bed. On the left side, McCoy was bundled under a mountain of covers, his hair peeking out at the top being the only indication that it was him. But on the right side… laid Camille DeWaterson, looking like an absolute angel. Her body was completely exposed due to her fiancé's selfish hogging of the covers. McCoy’s actions at any other time would have Terry seeing red. But instead, they accidentally gave Terry the most pleasant and mouth-watering surprise he could have hoped for tonight.

Camille laid flat on her back, the side of her face perfectly highlighted by the moonlight pouring in as she snuggled into the crook of her arm. Her gorgeous dark brown skin seemed to glisten in the moon’s glow, asking, begging to be licked and sucked and marked. She was mostly bare, wearing nothing but a soft white satin nightgown that dipped dangerously low into her cleavage and was hiked up around her waist. Terry's focus on the task at hand faltered as his dick turned to stone. His tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten his lips hidden under his black ski mask. Desperate to give himself some form of relief, he palmed his bulge through his black sweatpants as he moved closer to Camille’s side of the bed. With a better view of the slumbering princess, Terry's eyes wandered to Camille’s pussy, tucked away from his sight by a lacy white thong, a present he ached to open. As if in a trance, Terry crouched down to run his gloved thumb over the waistband of Camille’s panties, careful not to awaken her.

You have no idea what you do to me, he thought, hooking a finger into the lacy fabric. His eyes snapped toward her face as he began to slowly tug the garment down. He was halfway down her thighs when she stirred, whimpering lightly. Everything in him froze except his dick. His dick twitched as he replayed the sweet sound in his head. Camille’s brows furrowed momentarily, but her face relaxed and her eyes remained closed. Terry waited a beat to make sure she was still asleep. But has dick, heavy with excitement, beckoned him to continue removing her panties. So as swiftly as he could, Terry pulled the small fabric over her knees, down to her ankles, and then carefully slipped them past her feet. In a frenzy, Terry tugged the ski mask below his mouth and pulled the souvenir to his nose, inhaling deeply. Drool slid past his lips as he breathed in her scent. He held back a feral rumble in his chest, feeling his eyes flicker from their usual blue-gray to a deep red. Now isn't the time to lose control, he thought, suppressing the darkest parts of himself. With a shake of his head, he tucked Camille’s panties into the pocket of his sweatpants, sending another shockwave through his lower region.

He backed away from Camille’s side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her sweet face. He was just about to pivot to walk back into the living area. But he heard the slightest vibration from the left side of the room. Terry cocked his head to the side and zeroed in his focus on the phone on McCoy's nightstand. What kind of notifications could he be getting at two in the morning? He swiftly moved towards the phone, gently picking it up. He flipped it so the screen faced him and began to read the series of notifications. Banners from DraftKings, FanDuel, Prizepicks and other betting apps displayed several different messages:

Bet $20 and get 3x back on earnings!

Hurry now to get $1000 in casino bonuses!

Bet now, get instant deposit on all earnings!

Terry chuckled lightly, his eyes flickering to McCoy and Camille to briefly check if they heard him. They hadn’t. So you’re a gambling addict huh, he grinned widely as he glanced down at Aston. I can definitely work with that. Terry carefully returned the phone to its original position. Then he crossed the room once more, returning to Camille's side. He hummed slightly as he softly gripped her right leg, adjusting it to give him a perfect view of her now exposed pussy. Camille sighed slightly, shifting onto her side, unknowingly moving closer to Terry. Terry smirked, kneeling so his head was at the same level as hers. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be all mine soon enough,” he whispered, hoping that his words slipped into her dreams. She sighed in response, still in a deep slumber. With a final scan of her face, Terry pulled his ski mask back over nose, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned to leave the bedroom. He grinned wildly as he began to conjure up the most sinister and wicked ideas to get Camille DeWaterson into his arms and into his bed… forever.

[asukiess]

I get so incredibly emotional about fanfiction. many a time have I wept about the passage of time—dear 2018 fic that had the authors note etchings that you were in grad school: I hope writing this made midterms more bearable, or at least that one night. thank you for writing my favorite character or ship, it’s comforting to know that I have a friend across time that had the same rot, the same afflictions, the same ideas when experiencing this media. 

dear fanfiction from my adolescence, that made me realize I still had worth outside of conventional creative writing classes. that I was still a writer, even in the dark, even alone. thank you for influencing me in so many ways unbeknownst to you. 

I get emotional about the “missing” parts in an unfinished series—what was in your head, ao3 user? your dreams and hopes and ideas? Or, what about chapter ten, which has triple the amount of comments due to your plot twist. what was that like in the timeline of your life? or, what was it like when you happened to only get one comment on chapter 1? 

the rarepair authors that I’ll never connect with because they moved on: thank you for still leaving it up. 

it’s just. cosmic to me to open these fics from 2,5,10 years ago and see where the author was at, to see where fandom was at, to see anything at all so human!!

I can comment, I can kudos and bookmark, but there’s no obligation for them to write back. I’m just thinking about the passage of time and the idea that we can connect in so many ways!

[izvmimi]

cw: spoilers. after timeskip. selfship-coded. reader has a defined quirk. hurt/comfort.

As strong as the bond between any high school class can be (even yours, arguably more a small superpowered militia than a group of hopeful freshmen in far over their heads and strong enough to make it through the other end anyway), paths diverge as people follow their dreams, even if they will all forever call UA their home. 

It’s fitting that Izuku Midoriya, indisputably the most affected by the trauma of the meta war has kept UA as home base, and settling into his new career as teacher has remained both expected and fulfilling, even if poorly introspective onlookers would think otherwise. He is the heart of what it means to be a hero and that is to inspire the present and the future, and carry on the lessons of the past.

He is also your heart, you muse, as you find him sitting at your kitchen table, poring over graded essays, the red ink from his excessively lengthy corrections and comments practically jumping off the paper it’s scribbled on. You set down your work bag and attempt to sneak up behind him, but even if he’s focused and still, he’s always sharp, setting his pen down to turn around and greet you with a kiss.

“Hey, you’re later than usual, so I just let myself in, is that okay?” he asks. You nod, moving over to wash your hands in the sink quickly, then coming back around to pull a chair next to him. 

You’ve wanted to ask him to just move in together for months now, especially since now you spend more time at each other’s places than you do your own separate ones, but something about the proposition has felt wrong, rushed maybe. It’s been just a little over a year since you moved back to Japan after your fellowship overseas, and while you’ve remained in a varying level of contact the whole time since graduation, the flux of things has changed significantly instead of settling normally. For one, confessing an unrelenting affection that was kept mostly secret since high school had changed the trajectory of your lives, finding ways to incorporate seeing each other without fanfare between your busy post-grad education and his UA courses, then finally a year of long distance had made it difficult to ever feel like things had been truly steady.

“I wouldn’t have given you a code or key if not, silly,” you remind him. He smiles, and you glance over at the last assignment he’s corrected, and grimace. 

“You know if Aizawa had given me this many comments on an essay, I wouldn’t have shown up the next day, Izuku,” you remind him. He laughs, as you take the paper and read his feedback, mind spinning.

“I mean, no kid’s ever cried yet. I try to be nice.”

He is nice, you think, realizing that not a single word in the practical novel he’s scribbled in the margins of the brief constructed response can be misconstrued as disappointed or demanding. 

In fact, you would have cried tears of joy reading this. 

“How was the clinic?” he asks over the turn of another page.

“The most darling kid who didn’t have a Quirk manifest yet at age 5 showed up with worried parents with too much money on their hands.” You twist your mouth to the side. 

Izuku doesn’t look up as he says, “Oh, that’s too bad.”

There’s a pang of discomfort in your chest for a split second, but he doesn’t say anything else, scribbling a series of checkmarks and x’s, the quick scritch of his pen a little louder and resounding.

Izuku was meant to be Quirkless and is happy being Quirkless yet again, his mission fulfilled and the world better for it - even if sometimes only marginally so - but you know he yearns for the ability to be back on the field, with the same restlessness All Might once recounted feeling once he’d retired to teach as well. It’s evident in the way Izuku stays up a little too late reading/watching the news at every level, and how much of his free time he coordinates to a similarly intense training program at the crack of dawn, and the fact that even now he bristles at the implication of Quirklessness as a disability.

Everyone can be a hero. He was the greatest of them all - is, in fact, and not just your personal one, but his own personal world has shrunk. Documentaries, videos, people’s memories will not change that the fact that he’s far bigger than the quiet life he lives.

Now he’s relegated to cheering his friends on, day in and day out, and preparing a path for the youth to surpass him, something he is willing to do, but you know perhaps the timing is a bit too early for someone who shines as brightly as him. 

You rest your head on his shoulder. I love you, you could say out loud, I love you, and the world loves you, for you even more than what you did and what you represent, but it doesn’t help and Izuku cannot help sometimes interpreting your love as pity.

“What do you want for dinner?” you ask instead, keeping your voice as gentle as possible.

He turns to kiss your forehead. “I’m good with anything.”

You hate that no matter what you ask, big or small, he’ll always say this, and decide you’ll order his favorite food instead.

—

Years ago, when Mei contacted you out of the blue while you were ass deep in your medical school finals, asking you if you remembered the last time you’d used your Quirk on Izuku Midoriya, you had immediately assumed she had officially gone insane. It had been greater than five years since you’d last had a normal conversation with her at all, if even that could be considered normal, and you hadn’t had a need to use your Quirk on Izuku since the meta war.

“I know it’s a long shot but I need to know if you still remember-”

“I do,” you answered quickly, then immediately your face warmed at the admission. You can’t help that your Quirk gives you near perfect memory of people by their neuronal diagram, but something about it feels stalkerish when you still think of him affectionately, and not just as someone you’ve once healed. It also doesn’t help what the circumstances were when you’d healed him… but that would be a concern and memory for later.

“How can I help?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes visibly at you when you showed up to Hatsume’s lab the very next day but the animosity between you two has been a running schtick for years and you responded in jest. Using Hatsume’s program to redraw each neuronal connection from memory and adjusting for differences related to age was your greatest contribution to Izuku’s suit, small sums of money to contribute to the class pot whenever you could spare them the other.

There was always a little pang of jealousy that Katsuki could always offer up more money than you could, which once you’d confided to him by late night phone call days before All Might came back to Japan, he’d remind you,

“I’m just trying to beat your boyfriend in a fair fight, don’t make this about you.”

Katsuki’s rash way of speaking has always intuitively comforted you in just this way. It brings a smile to your face, and you offer him a word of thanks, anyway.

“He doesn’t know, does he? I know you like to run your mouth.” 

Katsuki can’t see you roll your eyes. “He’s none the wiser, don’t worry.”

“Good.” 

—

Izuku sends you a daily good morning message, and you’ve rarely beaten him to the punch, but this morning, you offer him a phone call as you make your way to the center of the city to work. All Might is coming back today and will present his suit to him then, the fruit of all your joint labors, and you were practically unable to sleep due to the excitement. Part of you agonized over whether or not you should try to be with him in the moment, but this is a moment to be kept between them, mentor and mentee.

“How are you feeling this morning, Izuku?” you ask, hoping the pants of your speedwalk (late to work as usual), don’t concern him through the phone.

“Weirdly enough, excited. There’s a feeling I can’t quite place, a good one,” he starts, and your grin is ear to ear.

Hours later, you get an excited text and one of the happiest phone calls you’ve ever received, and your heart is full to bursting.

—

“It’s fine, you don’t have to fuss over me,” Izuku insists, and you pout. There’s one stubborn emerald curl that won’t right itself in your opinion, and he’ll be on set for an interview in just a few minutes - the first since returning to active hero work - but he holds your fingers in his hand and pulls them to his lips instead.

“It’s okay. Don’t be nervous on my behalf,” he reminds you as he kisses them. His eyes are kind and relaxing, and you let out a deep breath, biting your lower lip. “I’ve got this, I promise.”

“Fine.”

“I love you,” he reminds you. “Thank you for always being by my side.”

You nod, as his assistant whisks him away, and he steps back into the spotlight, where he’s always belonged.

[morganas-pendragons]

Jealousy Is Unbecoming | Celebrimbor

I got denied from my choice grad school AND I am sick. Here you go, have another fic! I have been out of it for a while. Hopefully I can start my OC fic soon.

***

“Celebrimbor? Why have you been avoiding me?” You call teasingly.

“I haven’t been doing anything of the sort. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, then why don’t I go ask Márdan then?” You call over your shoulder, turning back towards the main doors of the forge. You are not very far in to courting. You however, are not naive, and have been around him long enough to know when he’s hiding something.

“You may do whatever you like.” Celebrimbor grumbled. “Márdan certainly won’t have any answers for you.”

Oh. That’s what’s what the problem is. He’s jealous of you spending time with the other Ellon that you’ve come to know from the Gwaith-I-Mírdain.

You cross the room to come stand in front of him, teasing fingers curling around his wrist. “I have a question that only you can answer. Would you like to hear it?”

He looked down at his wrist where your fingers touched him, then back up at you, bewildered. “What?” He asked.

You lean inward to whisper lowly in his ear. “How long was it going to take for you to admit you are jealous?”

Celebrimbor’s eyes widen as his cheeks redden. “What are you-I am not!”

“Márdan has been helping me with education about the forge. Things I need to know if I want to be able to craft with you and beside you.” You hummed softly and laced your fingers together. ‘’Besides, I think I’ve made one thing abundantly clear by now.”

“I am not just some young buck that I am so easily made jealous by another,” He muttered, face red.

“I don’t want some young buck.” You argued. You lean forward, ever so slowly, and touch your foreheads together. “I want you. You don’t have to worry about my eyes ever wandering to anyone else. Especially that young Ellon. He has nowhere the strength you do.” Always teasing, always gentle.

Celebrimbor stared at you, thoughts and insecurities and what ifs whirling around in his mind. After a few moments, he seemed to have calmed his thoughts and sighed. “I have been unfair to you.” He said.

“How?”

You took his hands and pressed them to your face, earnest eyes not once parting from his own.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I have a tendency to be…. Temperamental at times.”

“Only towards the ones you care about. It’s usually me as I’ve seen so far, but..” Realization crossed your face. “Oh. Is there a specific reason why it’s usually directed at me?”

Celebrimbor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which at this point has become a tad disheveled. “You do not deserve it - These moods that come over me. Forgive the irrational fears of an old elf. I saw intent where there was none.”

“Celebrimbor,” You shake your head and stepped closer so you could lean into him, head resting in the crook of his neck. “Your age is of no concern to me. Do you wish to know what it was that drew me to you, and not to any of the other Gwaíth when you brought me into your care?”

“Please.”

His voice is hoarser than he’d care to admit.

“Your kindness,” You said. “Your gentleness, your capacity to love a stranger. I wasn’t drawn to Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion and greatest of the Elven Smiths. I was drawn to you. You,” She rested her hand against his chest. “Are all I want.”

He lets you stay there nestled against him for a long moment before he pulled away to cradle your face in his hands, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “I do not deserve you,” Before you can protest, he continued. “Valar take me, but I do not know what I did to deserve one as precious as you are.”

They’ll find out later that you were prophesied over for him, saved for him by Nienna herself. That will come. Right now you have this.

“You saved me,” You whispered. “That was enough. Do you believe me now that there is nothing to worry about?” She twisted your head to kiss Celebrimbor’s jaw. “Or do you need me to-“ And then his cheek. “Convinced you further?”

Celebrimbor took one of your hands into his and kissed the back of it, maintaining eye contact with you for the entire time. There is a playful glint to his eyes now, as if the demons have been chased away for the time being. “I might be interested in hearing more,” He murmured. “Perhaps over dinner?”

“In the gardens?” Your hair swept over your shoulder as you beamed at him. “That is our favorite spot in the city.”

“Wherever you wish it, my dear.”

[wowbright]

Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America, Chapter 1: Lover Boy

Summary: Fourteen scenes from the lives of Blaine Anderson, grad student and avid birder, and Kurt Hummel, clothing designer and Vogue writer, from before their first meeting in the spring of 2020 through falling in love.

Note: Back during the COVID lockdowns I wrote a couple hundred words of Klaine lockdown meet-cute. I thought I would write more, but I guess I didn't feel like writing about the COVID lockdown during the COVID lockdown, so I never did and I never posted the tiny bit I had written. Thanks to Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2025, I’m finally doing the thing! I'm trying to keep each chapter to around 500 words. Thanks @spaceorphan!

AO3

~~~

Chapter 1: Lover Boy

Blaine was going to go insane.

He knew he should be grateful. He had it better than a lot of other people. He didn't have to worry about where his next paycheck was coming from, because he didn't get a paycheck, because he was an idiot who had, for some reason, decided his fascination with birds was enough to carry him through another five years of school at minimum after completing college. More to the point, he received monthly distributions from a trust fund his grandparents had set up for him in their wills, and though it didn't make him filthy rich, it gave him enough to live on without having to worry about finances.

But he never would have moved in with Cooper if he’d known they'd be locked up together for weeks (or would it be months?) on end. He loved his brother, but his brother was a lot. At least they had separate bedrooms, plus Cooper had the recording studio and was staying fairly busy with audiobook work. Unfortunately, Cooper did not keep all of his acting and voice exercises to the studio. Nor did he keep his opinions to himself, no matter how many times Blaine said, “I'm not changing what I'm making for dinner,” and “This is what I choose to wear and your opinion has no bearing on the matter,” and “I'm sorry you can't go to the gym, but no, you do not have my permission to use me as a dumbbell for bench presses.”

Blaine was spending increasing amounts of time shut in his bedroom with ear plugs and noise canceling headphones on, working on compiling and coding his field research notes and, when that became too tiresome, checking recently submitted species sightings on ebird.org for potential errors.

Today, he was listening to his Upbeat Sexy With a Twist of Romance playlist—the one he used to listen to while getting dressed for a night out on the town. Oh, what a different time that had been. Now instead of gelling his hair while crooning along to Freddie Mercury singing Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy, whatcha doin’ tonight?  while hoping to get laid or better yet find love, he was bobbing along to the song while entering numbers into a spreadsheet.

But that could be good, too. The rhythm of the music combined with the spreadsheet sent him into a near hypnotic trance that made him forget time and boredom and COVID. It was as close as Blaine got to heaven these days.

A sudden weight on his shoulder jarred him out of his trance.

His brother period of course. Just when Blaine’s mind had found some semblance of peace, Cooper had to disturb it.

He removed his headphones and one ear plug. “What is it, Coop?”

“New lockdown project: I’m going to turbocharge my manscaping routine. I need waxing tips.”

“You interrupted my work for that?”

Cooper waved at the computer screen dismissively. “You should be thanking me. That must be incredibly boring. What do all those numbers even mean?”

Blaine looked at his brother. He looked at the numbers. He looked at his brother again. “I mean this with all due respect, but I seriously want to kill you right now.” He closed his eyes. He took a breath. “I'm going for a walk.”

Blaine had already been for a walk that morning. It was the migratory season, so of course he had. He’d gone out with his binoculars as soon as the sun started twinkling over the horizon. He’d ticked off twenty-seven species, including his first American redstart of the season along with plenty of palm and yellow-rumped warblers, but apparently two hours of birding in the morning wasn't enough to keep him sane.

He jumped from his chair, pulled on a jacket, and grabbed his binoculars. “I'm going to walk until I no longer feel murderous. Love you!” The door slammed behind him.

[therecordconnection]

Some Thoughts Regarding James Somerton

I know I'm rather late to the conversation and some of these points may have already been talked about in some form elsewhere on the site, but if you don't mind, I have some thoughts of my own regarding the subject of hbomberguy's latest video and I would like to take time to voice. This blog is normally dedicated to music and music writing, not posts about disgraced Youtubers, so I apologize for the detour in regularly scheduled programming.

First, I think it's important to make the distinction that Somerton isn't just a case of "problematic Youtube guy got owned... twice" but rather a genuine case of academic dishonesty, which is several grades above youtuber drama. This isn't something like Tati Westbrook getting angry at James Charles for sucking dick and cock at a birthday dinner. This isn't Ethan Klein and Trisha Paytas or whomever having beef. It's not Charlie Critikal talking about some stupid drama of the day or someone just using Youtube videos to say a bunch of gross and problematic stuff. No. This is a fucking grifter who not only lied, cheated, and stole his way to the top, but also did it by using a vulnerable community that has long had their voices snuffed out and their history completely rewritten or wiped from existence altogether. What history he didn't plagiarize, he twisted and outright lied about. He just made shit up to suit his own gross agenda.

A lot of things about James Somerton left me absolutely livid, and I admit that I didn't even know who he was until hbomberguy's video. I think what makes me the most mad is that I went to undergrad and grad school with a number of jackoffs that were just like him. People that didn't give a shit about the art of writing and research and just treated academia and the pursuit of knowledge and how to critically engage with art and media into a stupid game that only chumps take seriously. Somerton pisses me off because I AM a writer. When I write the Ranting and Raving series of posts on here, that stuff doesn't just fly out of my ass. I have to sit with a song, study it, research it, and make sure I know what I'm talking about so I don't look like a clown. I also have to make sure that I link and credit where I'm getting information from. It's not just important for my own satisfaction, but it's important for anyone who stumbles upon a post on this blog and takes time out of their day to read it and/or reblog it.

I think that's the part that makes me the most mad. That he and Nick Hergott have so little respect for the work that goes into researching and writing about a topic that other people are really passionate about. Spending time with something, studying it, and figuring out an interesting and unique perspective on it is a great feeling. Sharing what you find or how you see something with others and having them either like or reblog your work is an even greater feeling. That's my writing that somebody enjoyed and thought was worth sharing with others. Fuck fuck fuck Somerton for thinking you can take a million little shortcuts to get to that result.

While I'm on the topic, I don't think Hergott gets a pass for Somerton's actions. I've seen some people make the argument that he isn't complicit and there's a chance that he genuinely had no clue that Somerton was doing this... but I don't buy it. There's no way he didn't know and wasn't in on it in some capacity. Even if he wasn't, as Todd in the Shadows pointed out in his video on this situation, Nick is, whether you like it or not, an accomplice to Somerton's lies and he is complicit in the blame, due to his name being included in the "Written By" credit of a lot of those videos with Somerton. The way I see it, I find it hard to believe that he couldn't have known. I imagine part of Hergott's signing on with Somerton was that in the event that shit hits the fan, Hergott would be used as a fall guy to help deflect accusations of plagiarism.

To return to Somerton, in a way, he's almost worse than AI/Chat-GPT because, really, an AI has no morals. It can only do what someone punches in and tells it to do. Somerton is a guy who does have genuinely insidious ambitions and knows fully what he's doing. That shit about "only the boring gays who didn't mess around in the eighties survived the aids crisis" is the wildest and grossest accusation I've seen about gay people in some time. The wild takes about the Nazis (especially all the wrong things he said about fitness relating to Nazis) should also raise a lot of red flags. I'll say this though, I don't blame anybody in the slightest for not fully realizing Somerton was saying shit like that or doing all of what he was doing until hbomberguy and Todd presented it a certain way and made it all very clear. It's easy to not notice it when Somerton buries it by ripping stuff off from other, better writers. So, if you were someone who was a big fan and was genuinely shocked by the things Todd had to fact-check and debunk and worried that you're a bad person for having not caught any of them, trust me, you're not. Nobody should blame you for not catching it. <3

While I'm ranting about this, I want to say that Somerton's patreon grift was really gross to see exposed as well (through Dan Olson's really great thread, which can be read here). I understand the allure of wanting to buy expensive gear and thinking that's somehow needed in order to make Good Content™️, but there's a stark difference between someone saying "I think I need to shell out a little money in order to get something of higher quality" and "I need to have the appearance of looking like my stuff is being made with high quality stuff." As someone who has been experimenting with trying to turn his writing into video, I did some audio tests this weekend and realized that maybe (just maybe) the old Turtle Beach microphone my brother left behind when he moved out isn't going to cut it. If I want to record something I can be happy with, I'm gonna have to bite it and look at getting something decent, but somewhat affordable from a Best Buy or something. You don't need the best tech in order to make something great, but you can't use copper tools forever if you have the means to be able to enjoy using iron ones, you know?

Somerton's grift reminded me of guys like Onision and Spoony. Grifters who looked to Patreon and other creator donation sites for an easy pay day and would bitch and cry and complain that it's your fault when they don't get it. Somerton making poor financial choices ON TOP of it being money that he scammed from a community of people that were looking to invest in a voice that they genuinely thought was speaking for them in a meaningful way, only makes the grift more disgusting and foul. Even if he's just "some Youtuber," Somerton still had a responsibility to his audience to present queer topics in an ACCURATE manner. He didn't and we all have the right to be angry with him about it. This isn't just silly youtuber controversy, this is academic dishonesty in it's purest form and if it gets you expelled from any college program, it should get you expelled from being able to show your face on Youtube as well, which is how Somerton's story will end.

I've been on the internet for many years. I've seen some of the worst, most problematic creators of all time find a way to bounce back from all kinds of controversy and find some kind of success again. I don't think that will happen for Somerton. Not one bit. What he's done is something you can never come back from, no matter how much you try to reform. If two different youtubers can make two completely different videos about why you suck, I don't think there's any recovery. What happened this weekend is a now classic episode of World's Most One Sided Fist Fights Caught on Film.

This post has gone on for a while, so let me wrap it up. I mean this without hyperbole and without exaggeration: James Somerton is a disgrace to both media criticism and the art of video creation. I genuinely hope he remains propped up as a cautionary tale of what can happen when you fully decide you have absolutely no respect for the Humanities and decide that lying, cheating, and stealing your way to the top, all while scamming and being incredibly shitty towards a community that has long suffered and is STILL suffering greatly to this day, is better than any kind of academic honesty. I understand that Somerton is just "some youtube fraud" to some people, but the problem lies more in what Somerton's actions and motivations represent. I really think hbomberguy's video on plagiarism is going to do a lot of good. It's going to help a lot of people avoid doing it as well as help people become more aware of what it really looks like and all the damage it can do.

Thank you for your time.

P.S. It doesn't really need to be said at this point, but make sure you support the queer voices and writers that did the work Somerton thought was good enough to just copy and paste into a video. They're the ones that suffered the most through all of this and my heart goes out to them, from one writer to another. <3

[galadrieljones]

I'm really curious as to your thoughts on Johanna being Emmrich's ex wife. I agree there seems to be deeper feelings that than he lets on. I was personally thinking unrequited feelings at one point on Emmrich's side. But I see him being a little too cautious and afraid of attachment to have been married before.

Hey!! I think that's a pretty good interpretation of Emmrich. My perspective is similar, just executed a little differently. I see having her be his ex-wife as accomplishing a couple different things. First, honestly, and this is just me, but I think it would be kind of funny lol. Like this just insane twist: We have this man who is so disciplined, so whimsical and stoic, but... he's got this thing that he's hiding. He's not ashamed of it. He just doesn't want to deal with it, especially if he's romanced. Like, at one point, he sort of humbly dismisses Rook as they're talking about their pasts. I can't remember when it was. Maybe the dinner date? He is like, "Let's just leave the past alone." Something along those lines. Having an ex-wife like Johanna Hezenkoss would have created a bit of crazy human drama imho, which would foil nicely with Emmrich's sparkly, romantic, magical air.

Also, it feels a bit like a missed opportunity to establish some sort of richer backstory for his character. At ~50yo, he is older than the characters we are used to meeting. And unlike characters who are in their 20s or even their early 30s, he's had a TON of experience in the world, and beyond the most obvious stuff, we don't know much. An ex-wife fills in tons of blanks for me. Like, I picture these two young grad students. They are swept away! by passion for the work, and for each other! Etc. Etc. Etc. (Note that I fell in love with my husband in grad school so I'm biased lol.)

Further, in my opinion, and because I'm always looking for patterns in character motivation, vibing with Emmrich's former marriage to Johanna might help us better understand his attraction to Rook. In my romance with Emmrich, I noticed that he compliments Rook on her sense of adventure, how she is well-traveled and interesting, and how he finds this to be exciting. It draws him to her. He has spent his entire life in Nevarra, and I understand why he'd be drawn to this kind of wild innocence. I'm sure, too, that Johanna, who kind of reminds me of Ghilan'nain, once had a similar quality that he liked, ie: unpredictable, interesting, adventurous. But unlike Rook, she let ambition get the better of her, and this would have probably spooked Emmrich badly, who is very pure in his pursuit of necromancy. He sees it as this beautiful calling, a gift, not a way to gain power. This would have disturbed him, and she may have viewed him as "too soft."

I see it like, if he were divorced, and his ex turned into this kind of monstrous person, this would definitely explain his hesitance with Rook, at first, and then later, too, when he's contemplating his mortality. Not that he thinks the same thing would happen with Rook, or even that it has anything to do with who Rook is, but just because being in a longterm relationship that's failed, this might have closed off his heart a little bit, damaged his trust in others and in himself, and hurt his ability to think in the longterm about love.

Anyway, this is just my opinion. And people are definitely free to disregard it. Maybe it's because I'm almost 40 lol, but I personally was just a little surprised they didn't at least pretend to go there with a 50yo man who's that charming.

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

Good Luck, Babe: The Prologue

A/N: Hi! Welcome to the first part of this little plot bunny I've had in my head for far too long. This is what I've been doing when I'm procrastinating on answering text messages and doing Grad school stuff but ANYWAY. This isn't beta read or proofread. I'm doing this for fun.

Warnings: 18+, a breakup, angst, lot's of crying, feeling insignificant.

Two Years Ago, 1987 Hawkins, Indiana

The living room was dimly lit, the late summer afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor. You sat curled up on the couch, your heart pounding, knee bouncing up and down anxiously as you awaited Eddie’s arrival. The tension in the air felt thick, almost suffocating. It had been brewing for weeks — misunderstandings, late nights spent apart when he was performing at various venues across the country, conversations that felt more like interviews than intimate exchanges.

When Eddie finally walked through the door, guitar slung casually over his shoulder, dressed in his Corroded Coffin T-Shirt, the familiar smile on his face did little to ease your nerves. He looked so vibrant, the world of music wrapping around him like a warm embrace - like he belonged in that world.  You wanted to reach out, to pull him closer back into your world but something held you back. 

“Hey,” he said, setting the guitar down and moving to sit beside her. “You okay? We missed you at the gig. We even put your favorite on the setlist. The crowd loved it. You would’ve--”

“Eddie…” you cut him off, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste was enough to make you even more nauseous than you already were. Your stomach twisted as you met his gaze, wringing your hands in your lap as you tore your gaze away from him and into your lap. “We need to talk.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “What’s up?”

You took a deep breath, the words catching in her throat. You felt like you were choking on the words you desperately wanted to say.  “It’s just… everything feels different lately. You’re so busy preparing for the tour and I feel like I’m losing you. Like I’m not your word anymore and maybe that’s selfish but I thought it was me and you against the world but now it just feels like I’m a burden and I’m holding you back and --”

Eddie holds up his hand stopping you mid sentence, turning his gaze to his feet, still enclosed in his black boots.  “I know it’s been crazy but you have to understand, this is what we wanted. This is what we dreamed of. This is the start of all of our dreams coming true. You can come with us. My dream includes you, baby. It always has. Please, baby. You’re not holding me back.”

“It was our dream, yes. But I thought it was our dream.” You felt the lump in her throat grow larger, her voice wavering as she tried not to cry. “Now it feels like I’m just… part of the background. Like I’m just stuck in the same position year after year just watching you from the sidelines. Like your success is overshadowing everything we had.”

Eddie looked taken aback, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of realization in his eyes like he was finally grasping what you were feeling. . “I never meant for you to feel that way. I’m just trying to make it work, for both of us. I’m trying, sweetheart. You can come on tour with us. You don’t have to stay behind. Quit your job and we’ll live on the road. Please.” 

“But I’m not sure it is working anymore. I’m not sure we are working anymore, Eddie.” Your heart raced as you continued, your voice wavering as tears threatened to drip down your cheeks. “I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when I feel like I’m fading away. You’re getting all this attention and I’m just… here. Who’s to say it wouldn’t happen even if I go on tour with you?”

The truth was, you didn’t want to end things with Eddie. He’s been yours for two years. You wanted a future with him but you knew how important his dreams were and how important it was to get out of Hawkins. That never happened for guys like him and it would never happen for girls like you. 

But Eddie had his chance to get out. You wanted him to take it. No strings attached. 

Eddie leaned back on the couch, running a hand over his face. “You’re not just here. You’re so talented. You could be on that stage too. Besides, regardless on where your music is taking you, I love you. No matter if you’re famous or not. That wasn’t a prerequisite and you know that. Don’t be stupid.”

“But I’m not,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes, finally falling down your face.. “You’re the one everyone wants to see. I’m just… your fiance. I want more than that. I want to be seen for who I am, not just as an accessory to your fame. Not just Eddie Munson’s fiancee. I could just see the headlines now!”

Silence hung between you and Eddie for what seemed like an eternity, heavy and charged. He looked down, his fingers absently tracing the fabric of the couch. “I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured, almost too softly for you to hear. “I can’t lose you.”

“Then maybe we need to let go. Take a break. Give space. I don’t know..” Your voice cracked, each word feeling like a knife twisting in your heart. You could feel your chest tighten, trapping the air within your lungs. “Maybe we need to take a step back and figure out who we really are, apart from each other, especially when you’re going on tour so soon. We’ve been together since what? 1985?’

Eddie’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue, might reach out and pull you close. But instead, he  simply nodded, the weight of reality settling over them like a heavy blanket. “If that’s what you think is best. I’m not going to sit here until I’m blue in the face asking you to come with me tomorrow. You clearly have already made up your mind.”

“It’s not what I want but I think it’s what we need,” you sobbed. “I love you. I always will but I can’t be the shadow of your dreams anymore. I don’t want to hold you back. I can’t hold you back.” 

As the tears began to flow freely, you watched as his expression shifted from confusion to sorrow. It broke your heart, shattered it into a million pieces and you weren’t sure if you could pick up each and every shard.  “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I just never wanted it to come to this. I thought it wouldn’t.”

Sitting together in silence, the reality of the words spoken hung  heavy in the air. In that moment, you felt the chasm open between them, not as a fault line, just a big gaping wound that you caused for the sake of Eddie’s dreams. Not yours. Eddie’s.

When Eddie finally stood up, the space between you and him felt both painfully empty and impossibly full. He reached for his guitar, the familiar instrument that had once been a bridge between their hearts now an ocean between them. It felt like a reminder of everything you were leaving behind.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. With that, he walked out, leaving you  alone in the dim light of their apartment, the echoes of the  conversation fading into the darkness.

Eddie left with a slam of the door. It felt like the shadows were clinging to the corners where the light couldn’t quite reach. Dust motes floated lazily in the golden glow of a single lamp, casting a warm but melancholic hue over the small apartment. You moved to sit at the grand piano in their living room, its polished surface reflecting the soft light like a forgotten dream.

Your fingers hovered above the keys, trembling slightly as you fought to compose herself. The weight of the breakup hung heavy in the air, wrapping around you like a thick fog. You closed her eyes, the memories rushing in: late nights filled with laughter, the sound of his guitar blending seamlessly with your melodies and the way they’d create magic together, as if the world outside didn’t exist and never needed to exist. It was just you and Eddie and music. But fame had shifted everything—his rising star status had cast a shadow over the love they had.

He was always distracted. Always practicing. Always writing songs. Always in the studio recording his next biggest hit. You were working at the arcade - the same job that you had back in high school hoping you would have the time for your dream too. You had hoped Eddie’s big dreams would fit with yours but, the music industry was a rabid beast that would kick anyone down if it could. 

With a deep breath, you pressed down on the keys, unleashing a haunting melody that echoed through the silence. Each note was a reflection of her heart, each chord resonating with the ache of loss. You played as if the piano were a confidant, one who understood the depth of your sorrow and one that could fix the gaping wound in your heart.

As your fingers danced across the ivory, the music transformed. It started softly, a whisper of sadness, and then grew bolder, almost defiant. You remembered the early days, how they had been two musicians dreaming together, collaborating on songs that spoke to their hearts. But as he started gaining fame—record deals, sold-out shows in small venues— you became just a footnote in his story. The girl at the bar, waiting for his set to be over wishing it was you on that stage. What had once felt like a partnership began to feel like a competition, his world expanding while hers shrank in the shadow of his brilliance.

A tear slipped down your cheek, trailing down to your chin as you  poured everything into the composition, humming along with potential lyrics soaring through your head. Each note carved out a space for your grief, for the dreams you and Eddie once shared. The piano roared to life, the sound swelling, filling the room with a bittersweet ache. You played a melody that spoke of longing, of the laughter they once had, now echoing in the silence of the empty apartment. The world would adore him, but you would still be invisible, like a ghost haunting the edges of his fame.

As you  reached the climax of the piece, the tempo quickened, mirroring her racing heart. You could still hear his words, the night he’d said, “It’s just so hard to balance everything. You know how it is.” But she didn’t, not really. He would come home later and later each night. The traveling between the states would last longer than a week… The way his eyes lit up when talking about new potential collaborations that didn’t include you—it all stung like alcohol on a fresh cut.

In that moment, you embraced the sorrow, the loneliness, allowing the music to wash over you like a cleansing tide. The final notes hung in the air, trembling before fading into silence, leaving you breathless. You opened her eyes, staring at the keys as if they held the answers to your  unspoken questions. The room felt emptier now, the weight of Eddie’s absence more palpable than ever but amidst the sorrow, there was a flicker of resolve. The music had been your release, a reminder that even in heartbreak, there was still beauty to be found. With a deep breath, you wiped away your tears and started again, this time playing a softer, hopeful tune. It was a beginning, a promise to yourself that you would create anew, even in the wake of loss.

As the notes filled the room once more, she felt the tiniest spark of something else—strength. She wouldn’t let his fame define her or drown her dreams. She was still a musician, still a creator. And for now, that was enough. You would find your way.

You know you would. You had to.

[thenadnerb02]

Inside Out Theory Concluded / Thoughts on Inside Out 2 [MAJOR SPOILERS]

Well, here we are folks. Four and a half months after I came up with my Inside Out theory based on the first movie and the sequel’s teaser, and two months after I continued on from that with the proper trailer, Inside Out 2 is here! 

So now that the movie’s come out, how well does my theory hold up? Well, let's discuss.

(Also, I had the great honor to see the first 35 minutes a week early at an event attended by Pete Docter at the Museum of the Moving Image, and a couple of the things he said in the post-screening interview will be referenced here.)

Again, major spoilers for Pixar’s latest movie. If you don't want to be spoiled, then come back.

—————SPOILERS BELOW THIS LINE—————

Okay, quick recap: I theorized that the 4 new emotions are directly influenced by the actions, thoughts, etc. of the main 5. They’re the embodiments of combinations of emotions and they can physically manifest now that Riley has matured. I figured that this would be the big twist of Inside Out 2. Well, was it?

No. No it wasn’t…

While I don’t think the theory is completely invalidated, it doesn’t mesh well with the second half of the movie.

When I first developed this theory, I had in mind that the new emotions would be fully aware of their connection to the old ones, but it’s clear this isn't the case. Anxiety initially has no idea what's going on when Joy and co. start envisioning positive outcomes of the hockey game, Embarrassment is surprised when he notices Sadness sneaked back into Headquarters, Ennui is shocked to discover Sadness stole her phone, etc.

Plus, the theory hinged upon the fact that Riley has demonstrably felt the new emotions before, but Inside Out 2 provides us a new plausible explanation for how that could be.

This room right here! While never explicitly referred to as such in the film, Docter called this a waiting area for emotions before it's their time to appear in Headquarters. And if Nostalgia is there 10+ years ahead of schedule, then there’s no reason why Anxiety, Envy, Embarrassment, and Ennui wouldn’t have been there during the first film. Their presence meant Riley could still feel those emotions even if they didn’t have access to the console yet.

And as cool as it would’ve been for my theory to be correct, after seeing Inside Out 2 I'm kind of glad it wasn't. The movie’s overall message is to embrace every part of yourself, and thinking that some of those emotions aren’t fully-formed beings of their own doesn’t sit right with me anymore.

Oh well.

Now, onto the second half of this post. As someone who deals with anxiety on a regular basis, I must commend Pixar on how accurate the emotion is depicted here. One thing I didn’t think of before I saw the movie (but in retrospect I feel like I should have) is how in addition to the worrying we often associate with the emotion, Anxiety also works hard to push Riley forward.

Sometimes my anxiety leads to endless worrying about the future, but it also pushes me to be productive and try new things. Funny how it can be both a motivator and a de-motivator at the exact same time.

For starters: catastrophizing about every possible bad outcome to a situation.

This is definitely something I experience during stressful situations. Sometimes I try to rationalize this under the belief that assuming the worst will make good things feel better, but ultimately (just like Anxiety), I get so focused on the worst that could happen that I disregard the possible good outcomes. But just like we see in the movie, it’s unhealthy to simply hyperfocus on the bad possibilities.

Another experience I have with anxiety is fretting over things in the far future when there’s much more pertinent things that could be focused on instead. For example, I won’t begin my grad school animation program for another two months, but sometimes I worry about it as if I’m already neck-deep in my M.F.A. I don’t have to stress over that right now, but sometimes I can’t help but do it anyway.

We see this at the end of the movie, where Anxiety spirals about Riley’s distant future, but eventually Joy calms her down by reminding her she doesn’t have to worry about that right now. (And she gets her Anxie-Tea!)

The belief threads and sense of self are cool additions to the canon of Inside Out. (A sense of self definitely feels like something a person would have before age 12, but let’s not think about that too much right now.) And the thing in this movie I found relatable most of all is what happens to the sense of self once Anxiety takes the reins of Riley’s life: it goes from “I’m a good person” to “I’m not good enough.” And I can say with 100% certainty that this kind of distressing self-talk is what happens when anxiety shapes one’s sense of self.

Anxiety literally forcing other emotions out of HQ is an excellent metaphor for what it feels like when anxiety gets extreme. We make no room for other emotions as anxiety builds up, and as we do our mental health state only grows worse.

(Although from my personal experience at least, this “I’m not good enough” mentality actually involves envy as well as anxiety, since what you’re really thinking is “I’m not good enough in comparison to others.”)

At the end of the day, Anxiety wanted what was best for Riley. She really, really did. It’s painful to watch her panic so much that Riley seemed to be close to a heart attack. And yeah, that’s what anxiety attacks are like — we get too caught up in worrying for the future that we forget to have joy.

And while we shouldn't let our sense of self be shaped solely by anxiety, we can't just repress the parts of ourselves we don't like Joy was initially doing with certain memories.

It's by finding that perfect balance and loving every part of ourselves that we can avoid complete breakdowns.

And it can be hard. It really can. As the film so poignantly notes, we tend to feel less joy as we get older. We can’t just have fun all the time like when we were little kids, but at the same time all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

We have a complete rainbow of emotions inside our heads, and even when things get hard and overwhelming, we must embrace all of our emotions because they all have an important role to play.

Or as Disgust puts it:

“You must make your curse your gift.”

[official-raoulin-the-bibulous]

Glimpse of the Imagination - a Claude Frollo x OC fic

NOTE: This fic was meant to be an RP between me and @frollosversion as Raoulin and Frollo respectively as they have some kinky sex regarding Esmeralda, but the reset happened and I made this by my lonesome lol. The italics represent what is going on with Frollo’s mind as he imagines everything in his alternate state of mind.

I practically worked on this all month while juggling with grad school, so I hope you enjoy this fic under the cut! ^^

“You’ve chosen a magnificent prison, but it’s a prison nonetheless,” Frollo warned Esmeralda as he proceeded to leave the cathedral, “Set one foot outside… and you’re mine.”

With that, the Minister closed the door and ordered that every guard should be by every door in case the Roma woman ever dared to step out. Frollo then silently stepped into his carriage, his mind completely foggy from what had happened a few moments ago at Notre Dame and hours earlier at the Feast of Fools. Will Esmeralda be Frollo’s new lover? Or will Esmeralda be left to rot once Frollo is done with her? Will Esmeralda act like bait and then suddenly switch to humiliate him? And worst of all, will Frollo’s immortal soul be punished for not having one, but two lovers, with one being of the same sex? Frollo nervously looked down at his black pointed leather shoes as the carriage drove back to the Palace of Justice.

Raoulin, meanwhile at the Palace, paced back and forth as he pondered how Frollo was doing at the festival regardless of the cold rain outside. Of all the years attending the Feast of Fools, nothing bad enough occurred to end the topsy-turvy and lustful celebrations so abruptly. Then, Raoulin heard the front door of the Palace open. A small draft whooshed into the palace, making Raoulin’s hat almost fall off. He readjusted it as he walked towards Frollo, who was still appearing to be down. However, Raoulin did not notice.

“Good afternoon, my Lord! How was the festival?” asked Raoulin, smiling and eager to give his partner a kiss.

“Don’t… talk to me right now,” Frollo told Raoulin, raising up his hand toward him.

Just at that moment, Raoulin knew something was troubling his partner. Frollo often felt relieved at every ending to the Feast of Fools because he shan’t deal with peasants until needed again, but not this year’s Feast of Fools. If Frollo’s not feeling well, thought Raoulin, I should talk to him regardless. Frollo climbed up the stairs, but Raoulin pursued, eager to know.

“Well, my dear Lord, why can’t you talk about it?” the Legislator trilled, shrugging his shoulders. “If I’m your partner, you should talk about it to me at least.” Frollo turned around to Raoulin as he reached the top of the stairs, his eyebrows furling slightly.

“Alright, here’s my answer for how the festival went: horrible!” snapped Frollo.

That answer wasn’t enough for Raoulin as Frollo stormed off. “L-Lord Frollo!” Raoulin still followed, albeit more quickly and swiftly this time.

Just as Frollo was about to head into his office, Raoulin shuffled right in front of him and stopped. Frollo snapped his fingers right at Raoulin, but he didn’t flinch.

“Legislator De Caux, what have I told you?” Frollo then punctuated the next sentence, “I. Am. Not. Interested!”

“From the sounds of it, you need to talk…” Raoulin put his finger on Frollo’s chin, and like magic, Frollo yelped softly and shuddered a little, “I know this isn’t your usual upset after attending the festival this year. Please tell me what has been bothering you.”

There was a long pause as Frollo settled down. The memory of him sneaking upon Esmeralda in Notre Dame, taunting her, even smelling her hair. She had not enjoyed it, but Frollo did. So much for her kind, according to him, twisting the truth and clouding his mind with sexual thoughts. But it didn’t matter because Frollo could’ve sworn she hit on him during her performance at the Feast of Fools!

Frollo sighed, knowing there was no other way to hide.

“Fine… Alright,” Frollo says in a tonal voice., “...I have feelings for this… this woman.”

Raoulin’s smirk soon started to grow.

“...Go on…”

“She is… a Roma,” Frollo sputtered out, expecting Raoulin’s mood to shift from sweet to sour. “Esmeralda. That was her name, Esmeralda. I-I-I know what you’re thinking. It’s not normal to lust for vermin like her, especially if she performed at the Feast of Fools. I wholeheartedly agree with that. Raoulin, I know that is not what you expect, but this was the truth.”

Raoulin pondered as Frollo explained about the woman named “The Emerald”. Clearly, he thought, If a woman has such a name meaning a jewel, it means she’s exotic and a jewel that we could own together. My, ‘tis been a while since I’ve fornicated with exotic women. Raoulin then grinned with lust swarming into his head. “You know, My Lord…” he began. “This is somewhat giving me an idea.”

Frollo stood right in place, bewildered.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I’ve had my share with exotic women before,” said Raoulin, “So, it’s practically normal for you to have feelings for Esmeralda.”

“It is?” asked Frollo.

“Of course!” replied Raoulin, “If you have feelings for a mysterious, beautiful woman who travels from place to place and possesses a magical ability to turn you on, then it’s normal. So, how was she like with you?”

Frollo took off his hat and gulped.

“Well… her hair smelled good,” Frollo admitted as he slowly walked toward the door to his room, “I imagined a bit of rope around her gorgeous neck… And then some.”

“Like what?” asked Raoulin as Frollo opened the door.

“Like… making love,” Frollo answered more, stepping back to his bed, “...staring into her eyes as we moan together… just… mmh.” 

“Take off your clothes, my Lord,” told the Legislator.

Frollo sighed deeply. He took off his collar and shoulder pad after placing his hat on the nightstand. Knowing Raoulin according to Frollo, he is a professional at developing such a session so sensual that it opens one new thing about Frollo, or at least revisit something not experienced since he was a young man. Frollo felt his heart pound against his chest as he stripped layer by layer of his outfit. Throughout the afternoon during Esmeralda’s performance at the Festival, Frollo too felt his cock throb, and it grew to be more stiff as Frollo undressed in front of the Legislator. After pulling off his undershirt, Frollo pulled his undergarments down, leaving him bare but the stockings and a twitching erection. He stared right into Raoulin’s eyes, waiting for another direction.

“...Now what?” asked Frollo, softly.

“You wait here,” Raoulin pointed up to Frollo. “I need to get a blindfold.”

Frollo nodded, and Raoulin set off to his room for a good minute or two. Frollo simply stood there, almost stark naked with his cock twitching to his thoughts of the Roma woman. Raoulin then returned, carrying a black piece of cloth, which Frollo assumed was the blindfold.

“Close your eyes, my Lord,” said Raoulin, lending the blindfold to Frollo’s face. “Take deep breaths… and relax…”

Frollo closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles as Raoulin wrapped the blindfold around him. Soon enough, every other sense—sound, smell, touch, and taste—seemed to heighten more than usual. Frollo could hear Raoulin give out soft, dreamy orders and a description of everything surrounding the two of them. Frollo heard Raoulin’s silky voice, saying that once he counted to one, he would be in an alternate state of mind.

“Five…  Your cock is throbbing more eagerly.”

“Four… You sense your room right now slowly fading away.”

“Three… Frollo, you are feeling a soft bed made of the most exotic silks.”

“Two… The blackness behind your eyelids and blindfold fades into a part of the Palace dungeons decorated beautifully.”

“One… You have no control over your body.”

“Zero!”

All the while he gave those commands, Raoulin stripped himself out of his robes to be nude and carried Frollo onto his bed. He gazed at Frollo in the meditative state that he created for him. Frollo had his legs spread out, making his shaft stick out further. His arms were spread out, too. Frollo almost looked like he was sleeping in the most alluring yet innocent way possible, and it worked!

Frollo soon felt someone lightly squeeze his tip, almost like a woman was doing it. He lets out a soft whimper.

“As you lie in this bed, you feel Esmeralda tease your cock,” said Raoulin, slowly sliding his fingers down his lover’s shaft.

“Ahh… Esmeralda,” Frollo muttered, saying the Roma woman’s name.

“Tell me, Frollo,” purred the Legislator, “How are you feeling right now?”

“A-amazing…” the Minister groaned in near-ecstasy.

Indeed, Frollo saw Esmeralda slowly stroke his cock with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other. She was just as ecstatic as Frollo, yet eager to mount him soon. Frollo saw her crawl a little closer. Esmeralda then mounted him and slid down to Frollo’s base. The Minister moaned as he felt the Roma woman’s vaginal walls squeeze around him, and she moaned as well.

All the while, Raoulin wet his hand and held Frollo’s cock at a tighter grip. Frollo whimpered softly, squirming a little while he envisioned the Roma woman’s warm pussy.

“Hhufff… Esmeralda… Ohhh, God…”

“Mmm…” Raoulin hummed.

“She rides on your treasured cock, moaning your name, ‘Claude! Claude!’”

“Her cunt squeezes you, you can’t last longer but you ride this… very… edge.”

Esmeralda lifts her pussy away from Frollo’s shaft, leaving Frollo with a disappointed whine. Soon, she sinks back on and bounces on it.

Raoulin had crept Frollo’s chance to cum, but he smirked, knowing that he was not done using Frollo yet. Frollo’s cock drooled more of its precum, hungry for more stimulation. The Legislator chuckled lustfully as he enjoyed seeing Frollo whimper and whine in agonizing pleasure. He then stroked Frollo some more, as the precum squished and slipped around at every movement with his hand. Raoulin hummed, as he felt his cock grow, too.

“Hhaahh… I love it when you ride on me and tease…” Frollo sighed with a grin, “Mmmmff, your beautiful teat…”

Esmeralda’s bare breasts were right in front of Frollo’s face. As the Roma woman kept pumping the Minister’s cock, her breasts bounced and jiggled. Frollo gazed at the sight of them but never took any chances to taste her nipples. It was almost like the moment that happened in Notre Dame, except that Frollo only looked at Esmeralda feeling sheer pleasure out of it. She was as if she was supposed to act like it, and her sole existence was to fuck a man like Frollo. And Frollo? He is weak for Esmeralda, and he does not give a damn about it. Frollo moaned along to Esmeralda’s, making a passionate duet for them.

“Good boy~...” praised Raoulin as he let go of Frollo’s shaft, “Now, on your fours and show me how you’re fucking the Roma Woman lying on the bed.”

Under Raoulin’s control, Frollo soon got up and adjusted his body to be on all fours. He pulled the pillow closer to his cock, and guided it as if he was sliding back into Esmeralda. Frollo groaned softly and whined, feeling every inch of his pillow teasing him. It indeed felt like Heaven as he thrust in and out of the pillow.

“Esmeralda… You feel so warm-mmmh…~” moaned Frollo to the fervent Roma, “Aahh, you look so beautiful on your back being used for me. O-oohhoho, I’m getting close…”

“Hold it for a while, old harlot,” Frollo heard a familiar voice.

Raoulin crept up behind, keeping his erection up. The Legislator spat onto his palm and lubed himself. He guided his shaft to Frollo’s muscle ring and slowly slipped in. Frollo felt his ass open wide painfully again and moaned loudly as Raoulin growled like an animal in heat.

“HRR-AH!!! Oohhh, it’s so big! IT HURTS!!!”

“Shhhh,” hushed Raoulin, “M-must you always feel so tight, Frollo? Ah, I love it so much…”

The Minister was too busy in his pleasurable trance. He kept humping the pillow and riding Raoulin’s dick alike. Frollo huffed and whimpered as his teeth soon grabbed the pillow sheet. Raoulin moaned in his exaggerated way, feeling his lover’s anal walls clench him. He whispered sweet, explicit, dirty nothings to Frollo’s ear, narrating what was happening in the Minister’s mind.

Frollo found himself sandwiched between Raoulin and Esmeralda. He both thrust into her and rode on him. Two overwhelming sensations happened at once as Frollo felt them.

“O Maria…” he groaned, “Keep thrusting into me like that! Please, Raoulin~!”

Esmeralda hummed and giggled lustfully, enjoying Frollo’s company with the Legislator. Raoulin slapped his hips against Frollo’s asscheeks, while he took his sweet time grinding inside the alluring Roma. Frollo moaned and whimpered softly close to Esmeralda, letting out small gusts of his breath flow to the side of her ear. Frollo felt a smile creep along his lips. It felt like he simply forgot what he was. Maybe he was meant to both love Raoulin and play with Esmeralda.

Frollo’s cock throbbed harder still as it rubbed against the pillow. “Oh, Christ… I’m so close…!” Raoulin heard his lover bleat out.

“Just keep riding that edge, my Lord,” said Raoulin, “Esmeralda will let you cum eventually.” Frollo’s cock squirmed as it felt the fabric massage along the shaft. More of its precum oozed out. The Minister soon grunted and shuddered his voice, keeping himself on that edge.

Frollo gritted his teeth. He didn’t know when to keep holding or to let go.

“Raoulin!” he cried, “I can’t hold it anymore!”

“Just a few more moments, my Lord,” cooed Raoulin, “Let me and Esmeralda reach the same edge, too.”

Frollo groaned. All he could do was to look at Esmeralda gazing upon him and Raoulin wallowing in pleasure. Small sparks soon crept into her mind. Her eyes soon grew heavy as they rolled up. Esmeralda felt her vaginal walls struggle to open from squeezing the Minister’s cock. Raoulin shut his eyes as his exaggerated moans turned more gruff. Frollo felt Raoulin rapidly increase his speed. As much as Frollo was lost in the pleasure, he soon noticed that both his lover and his Roma slave were reaching the brink of orgasm.

“Frollo, you may–!! Oh!! OOOOHHH, TOTUS FLOREO!!!”

Frollo gasped as he felt Raoulin’s warm fluids spit and flow inside. Frollo bit his lip within the last few seconds of being able to hold back. He strained his whimpers and pants until…

“ESMERALDAAAAAA!!!!!” howled Frollo.

“CLAAAAUDE!!!” the Roma woman shrieked, arching her back and clenching her walls against the Minister’s shaft.

Frollo moaned and wailed as he felt his waves crash upon him. It was intense as the violent waves that may toss the ship enough to sink it into the depths of the sea. At the same time, it felt like he was fired from a catapult. Regardless of what Frollo may have described after, it was a pleasurable feeling like no other. Especially that it’s a feeling made by Esmeralda, Frollo’s own jewel to play with. Frollo collapsed onto her as Raoulin pulled out, leaving a long trail of cum oozing out. He rolled onto his side, finally catching his breath from the orgasm.

“Esmeralda… hhaahhh… That was amazing,” smiled the Minister.

“Indeed you did a great job, my Lord,” Raoulin cooed as he lied down and pulled Frollo and Esmeralda for a cuddle.

Raoulin had already pulled out of Frollo at that point. He also had pulled Frollo close to him, spooning from behind. Raoulin heard a soft joyous sigh from his partner, and smiled, knowing that his method of reassuring those feelings had worked. He stroked Frollo’s messy gray hair. Frollo found himself to be soothed by his lover and master.

“Frollo, when I count from five, you will return to your normal state… Five… Four… Three… Two… One… Zero.”

In an instant, Frollo found himself looking at the blindfold covering his eyes. He untied the blindfold in a slow manner. Frollo’s eyes were wide open as if they were stuck like an owl’s. His lip twitched, trying to say something but it turned out to be speechless.

“Did you enjoy it, my Lord?” asked the Legislator, turning the Minister to face him.

“Erm… I suppose so, I must admit,” Frollo chuckled a little. “It was like having a strange yet erotic dream. I… haven’t had those in a while.”

Frollo tried looking for more words that described the alternate state he was in, but to no avail. He sighed.

“What is it?” Raoulin asked again.

“Mary and the saints must have let this fire consume me,” stuttered Frollo, “I don’t know if this is a test but it feels like destiny.”

“Ahh, now that’s the spirit!” Raoulin laughed, scruffing his boyfriend’s hair.

Frollo uttered an unsure yet disgusted “eeugh” as he batted Raoulin’s hand away. He got out of bed, and picked up his standard black robes with the undergarments.

“Raoulin, I just said I do not know!”

“Alright… if you say so, my Lord,” Raoulin shrugged as he watched Frollo get dressed into his robe.

Frollo said nothing. He walked towards the door to open it.

“Where are you going?”

Frollo turned around, clearly annoyed.

“To the large fireplace, Legislator,” he groaned. “I need some time to think about this.” “Okay,” smirked Raoulin, placing his hands behind his head, “I’ll let you have time to decide for yourself. But come back as soon as you make one, you hear, my Lord? I’m still yearning to caress your skin while we cuddle.”

Frollo smiled a little.

“I will, Raoulin…”

Frollo opened the door and walked out, prepared to confront his desires and perhaps to hear any news regarding Esmeralda.

[catboybiologist]

boymoders always be like "I'm not passing" while still activating the lesbian neurons in my brain smh how can both those things be true

anyway congrats on passing the thing!! my viva is coming ever closer and I'm def a little nervous lmao, how long did it take?

Good luck! I... had to look up what a Viva was, tbh. As far as I understand it, Vivas are another subtle difference between the two PhD systems in the world, so just to clarify: I do NOT have my PhD, but this is the most significant midway step. And this now has me on my whole little rant about the two PhD systems again!

Just a quick reminder if y'all aren't aware: there are two PhD systems in the world, largely split by geographic region, and I think this is why this confused me.

System A (the Americas, East Asia): the total time of the PhD is 5-7 years, the only strict entry requirement is a bachelor's degree (although, due to inflating standards, this is becoming less true in practice). Ends with a thesis defense on the research project you did during your time. At some midway point, you have a qualifying exam, which is a presentation you give about your project with the added twist that your committee is supposed to grill you about any subject even tangentially related to your research topic. The timing of this varies from the end of the first year to right before the thesis defense.

System B (Africa, Europe, Oceania, elsewhere in Asia): total time of a PhD is 3-5 years, but typically requires a separate master's degree or technical certification to start. Culminates in both a Viva, which is similar to our quals, and a defense? I think? Someone please correct me here.

They both total to the same amount of experience, its just split differently.

Currently, I'm 1.5 years into my PhD. This is pretty early to take my qual- my department does them early, because they're supposed to decide the direction of the rest of the years of your research, and I took it earlier than usual on top of that as well. I also already have a masters degree in a related but not quite the same subject (bioinformatics) so technically it's taken me 3.5 years of grad school.

Also. You're gay.

[hpowellsmith]

Hello!

You recently recommended Professor of Magical Studies as one of your favorite ChoiceScript games.

While you've discussed the others games before, I don't think you've talked about this one yet. Why do you recommend this one?

It's an urban fantasy game about going to grad school and studying pattern magic, a type of magic that can bend reality and, it's rumoured, also break it. As an undergrad, you were involved in a magical... incident with two of your friends, one of whom you haven't seen since and the other, well, threw you under the bus and sabotaged you at the moment when your academic career was about to take off.

Now you're back, dealing with old faces and new, and coping with academic life again - teaching, magical research, eldritch monstrosities, and shadowy plots.

I like academic stories a lot and this one feels very incisive; there's workplace drama and backbiting along with forming bonds and uncovering mysteries. It's a chunky IF, with lots of branches that I saw and didn't take (and far more that I wouldn't have even noticed) while keeping a very solid, substantial playthrough experience that felt like a very complete story in its own right.

There were a couple of things I wasn't so keen on: the internal artwork wasn't my cup of tea and didn't really match the descriptions of the characters, but you can turn it off. There are several flashbacks in the first chapter to illustrate what happened during your time in undergrad; others won't have a problem with that but flashbacks are a hard sell for me especially early on. But they are relevant both in the short and long term in the game, so I'm very glad I stuck with it!

The romances and friendships feel very real, taking time to get to know each other and (re)building trust if you want that, and the characters feel important both to the player and to the plot. The romances I went for felt nuanced, and it wasn't just a question of "be nice to this character until they sleep with you or say they love you" - there were complications to navigate.

Also I ended up with a polyamorous option that felt real and very well-thought-out! I don't often play polyamorous options but this one was great.

Basically it's a great academia story, a great fantasy story, and a very well put together game! The author Stephen Granade is a longstanding IF author and you can tell how much thought has been put into making all these branches and twists work together.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

hello, unusual request of mine, but for the prompt thing .. could you maybe do 9???????

thank u love u

hi baby, Piarles son of my CEO with a twist. I was going to make everyone suffer DEEPLY about this pre-race drabble but I decided against it after making myself very sad.

Pierre has no business being here.

It's too late, it's too hot, and he's got to be in a meeting to meet the new nepo hire tomorrow morning at 10 AM.

But, that's why he's here.

His guy - the one he hired and trained and turned into the perfect employee - was passed over for the son of the CFO.

He's barely out of grad school - probably can't write a report without consulting his textbooks.

And he's meant to be Pierre's equal. He's meant to be the person that Pierre is going to work with on major acquisitions - trust to read his mind and stay late. Do all the work that Pierre does.

So, he swore off doing this - off dragging pretty boys in bars home when he should be home sleeping and resting his brain for his job, but he's here and there's a boy sucking on the side of his neck while they ride the elevator to his floor.

"You live in a nice place." The Pretty Boy says when the elevator stops and Pierre hums, squeezing his waist, pulling him down the hallway.

They haven't spoken much. There had been some dancing and some light kissing and then he had been the one to ask Pierre if he wanted to leave with him.

He's electric though. He's electric underneath his touch and he's beautiful even in the harsh light of the hall and Pierre knows he's the kind of guy he would ask on a proper date if they met in a coffee shop or maybe at the gym.

"I do," Pierre smiles at him as he pushes the door open and then there's no more talking for awhile.

There's no more talking for exactly three hours and then there's too much talking for Pierre's liking, but he can't seem to stop.

Charles is funny as hell and he's kind of stupid and he's the best fuck Pierre has had in ages, and he's eating Pierre's lunch currently, standing up at the counter while Pierre sits across from him, accepting cold chunks of sweet potatoes off the fork.

"I just think," Charles laughs through a mouthful of potato and a smile, "that no one actually hates action movies. They say that because they want to seem cultured and interesting and above it!"

Pierre has to swallow a piece of potato that's a bit too big so he doesn't choke on it.

"There is not another genre of anything that lets you look at a dirty, hunk of man, doing things that no human being should be able to do, and -"

"Okay, yes!" Pierre agrees with him, but he waves his hand to try and get him to stop talking. "But that doesn't really do it for me so maybe that's -"

Charles spears another sweet potato and hangs his head. "There's not a single part of you that enjoys the thought of some big strong man throwing you over their shoulder and -"

He squeals because the stool Pierre was in falls to the floor and Pierre is chasing him around the counter and it's way too much for a hook-up but Pierre can't care.

Charles is gone when he wakes up, but his name and his number are on the fridge whiteboard calendar in the Saturday slot and Pierre understands that he's meant to call him on Saturday, but he's running a bit late, so he just dumps his ruined lunch into the trash and grabs one of those canned coffees that he keeps in the fridge and hopes that his shirt goes high enough to cover the bruise on his neck that Charles left with his teeth.

He's going to call him. He's already decided.

Pierre is halfway through his morning routine. He's checked his email on the train and now he's responding to everything urgent and he's about to go and debrief with Alex about their upcoming meeting, but Otmar knocks on his door, sticking his head through it immediately.

"He's here," he says simply and Pierre abandons his emails and he knows that he won't be talking with Alex. He walks into the hallway after Otmar, expecting to be met with the face of a literal child except -

Charles stands there, new badge around his neck, hands in the pockets of his black suit pants, smiling at Esteban with his eyes crinkled up and Pierre thinks he might just die.

That's the fresh faced grad that he's going to have to suffer through.

"It's nice to meet you," and then Charles makes a show of looking at his badge, "Pierre. I hear we are going to be working together on acquisitions."

Pierre has regrets, but he nods at Charles, making a show of looking at his badge too. "Charles, we will be spending most of our evenings together."

And then when Charles reaches out to shake his hand, Pierre squeezes on it too hard, watching Charles' nostrils flare.

He's swearing off pretty boys in clubs. He decides. For good this time.

[mirambles]

Rocky Aur Rani Ki Prem Kahaani - An honest review

I watched Rocky aur Rani ki Prem Kahaani because everyone I know on social media and few close folks in my real life said it was very entertaining - funny, progressive, feminist , and it showed gender equality.

So I was taken aback, because the general sentiment for KJo movies should be ‘It’s so shit, but I love it’ - that is a sentiment I can live with because we all have our guilty pleasures.

KJo has his audience who love the shit he pulls off every time he ‘directs’ a film with toxic masculinity, regressive female leads , justifying infidelity (always the answer to unhappy marriages) , glorifying Indian culture, where he adds 30 mins of melodrama and lectures to make the characters redeem themselves. Kjo’s movies are as lame as they can be, but people love them. I get it - ‘this shit is so bad, it’s so good’ category of films. Guilty pleasures are exactly this!

So sell me his new offering in exactly this manner - but all reviews and social media comments were glowing words of praise of how he has addressed today’s issues and it’s a progressive film. Are people suffering from amnesia or have they not watched better Bollywood films? Because I have a whole list of films you should watch that actually deal with ‘progressive’ mindsets - way before Kjo’s time!

Rani is a feminist. A FL as feisty news anchor who gives a 5 min lecture on men’s gaze, objectification of women and rape culture, but does an absolute U-turn 5 mins later by objectifying a handsome man in front of her. This is gender equality. Tit for Tat.

Wearing open back blouses to work is sign of new age feminism (Will I get trolled for sounding old school - has KJo ever stepped inside a corporate workspace - who dresses like Rani does?) What’s next? Women CEOs wearing bikinis? And why not get all men to dress like Rocky Randhawa - that would be peak gender equality in dress code at workplace.

Infidelity is the answer to all unhappy marriages. Remember KANK? Yes, let’s repeat that here, but let’s twist it into unrequited love between the senior citizens. Then add memory loss and illness excuse to get the 80yr old grandpa smooch his 75yr old ex-lover in front of his wife and entire family. The issue is not old age love, age is never a restriction to fall in love, the issue here is infidelity. But if this isn’t cringe enough, let’s completely destroy the most beautiful romantic number in Bollywood by playing it in the background to immortalise infidelity and later lust under the garb of love.

Let’s get back to our feminism torch bearer Rani, who has now jumped from knowing the guy for two meetings to lusting over him. She is honest with herself (not with Rocky mind you, because at no point have they had any conversation about themselves) that she is in it purely for the physical attraction, it’s just a fling for her. She is an elitist , feminist, Colombian grad, Bengali Girl (who has a terrible Bengali accent) and the crude, can’t speak English well, Gucci/Fendi wearing, Ferrari driving, protein shake drinking, loud Punjabi boy doesn’t match up to her standards. Kjo’s new level of feminism - make women pull the exact shit on men that men have put women through for decades. Tit for Tat! Gender Equality.

Btw at this point I still don’t know why Rocky loves Rani - love at first sight is always about the looks and physical attraction, so convince me why he loves her - because isn’t he this walking-talking green flag just by being understanding of his grandpa’s feelings and calling out Rani checking him out. A walking green flag who gets his grandpa’s ex-lover and his grandpa together to help his grandpa get better - because love is the cure for all illnesses. All doctors and medical researchers have been wasting their time on getting degrees and super specialisations - please enter Kjo’s school of love.

So now Rani realises she is in love - when and why and what changed her feelings from lust to love - I do not know. She drives on a 4-lane highway in the opposite direction - woman should have died there for her reckless driving, but she lives to propose to Rocky on a f&*king Highway! Bollywood I love you for pulling off this shit.

This is supposed to be the pivotal point in their relationship where she professes her love to him, going down on one knee (because hey you see role reversal - she is the feminist, the alpha female) and telling Rocky everything that HE IS NOT , listing her resume and her exes’. Therefore implying he doesn’t deserve her, but she is taking the high road and still falling for him. All the reasons she lists that she loves about him are actually about his physical aspects = Lust. She doesn’t list one meaningful quality that she actually ‘loves’ about him.

It is at this point that I gave up on the film, because after this RRKPK became a collation of scenes dedicated to social media trending topics:

1. Women burdened with household work

2. Women not liberated enough to pursue their dreams

3. Women being fat shamed

4. Cancel culture

5. Men being shamed for pursuing classical dancing (KJo research FFS - 50% of India’s top kathak dancers are males right from 1940s! )

Each topic got 1-2 scenes, tweets converted to preachy dialogues uttered by our ‘feminist’ queen and zero closures or character growth.

The only thing that works in this movie - is Ranveer , not his character, but him! He is effortless in this role, his comic timing is superb, needs some work on emotions.

Alia is a shadow of her awesome self on screen post her marriage to Ranbir. It hurts to say this, cause I have loved her in all her movies except SOTY.

Can people age gracefully, I couldn’t bear to look at Shabana Azmi and Jaya B - former was gorgeous as hell in her younger days, now is swollen with all the Botox fillers! Jaya has forgotten to act completely. Dharmendra should not even be acting anymore.

What was the point of rest of the cast? Only Alia’s dad was a decent act.

The one thing I absolutely love in KJo movies is the music and songs! These were crap too. What Jhumka? Because ruining all the songs from ‘The Golden’ decade of Bollywood was not enough, so they made a terrible mashup of Badtameez Dil & Jhumka Gira Re and killed both the songs in one go! Takes some skill doing this - well done!

Why this long rant if I disliked the movie so much, that too KJo movies? I wouldn’t have written one, if the reviews and comments were honest about the movie being average, typical entertainment; but the moment people praised it to nth level of being socially relevant with feminist heroine and gender equality - they deserved to be called out for their shallow thought process thinking that KJo actually cares about any of this stuff.

Worst people think this is ‘quintessential’ Bollywood. Please watch better films - like Amitabh’s roaring 70s, the romance films of 90s, the fun comedies, the glorious slice of life films from Hrishida, the Yash Chopra multistarrers - that’s quintessential, genuine, charm of Bollywood.

Lastly before I wrap this up - RRKPK when literally translated is Love Story of Rocky and Rani. I spent 2.5 hours on this shit show and I still don’t know the answer to why and how they fell in love! They didn’t have one decent conversation about themselves! The latter half is about them wooing their families. The film should have been aptly titled ‘Randhawa and Chatterjee Ki Prem Kahaani’ - It’s all about loving your family - K3G Part 2!