krontriolle

Hey, readers. I'm now on the third chapter of this fic. Enjoy!


======
======
======

Chapter Three

"Claude", I asked, "whatever possessed you to do such a thing?" I was, of course, referring to the discharge of his lieutenant and the resultant cruel prank.

Frollo attempted to burn a gypsy on the stake. He doesn't care about the lives of those "lesser" than him.

Of course, Frollo is OOC in the CW universe, so perhaps CW's version is more humane.


"I told you what could possibly happen and sure enough...."
I was more than a little annoyed. Having to interrupt a pleasant evening just to soothe his bruised ego, I must have lost my head. "Had is ever occurred to you that this soldier would have it in for you?

Canon Frollo would've had guards with him. In fact, said guards would've been around when he took a bath in that pond, as well as when he was getting chased by his horny bitches mistresses.


That there are folks out there who would be bold enough to pull such a prank, and NOT get caught?"

Canon Frollo would've had a DOA hunt on that lieutenant.


Claude Frollo, now fully dressed, adjusted the familiar triangular hat with its long, red silk veil. Then he wheeled around and glared at me.
"Honestly, Danisha! Spare me the lecture!", as he raised his hands in exasperation.

If Canon Frollo did have a mistress, and said mistress wasn't afraid to scold or try to bitch him, he'd give her a good ol' pimp slap.


"I indulge in a little recreation -- `Do something to relieve the stress', as you are always telling me. How was I to know what was about to transpire? Oh really, darling, this 'sister-in-a-snit' routine. While at times I find it somewhat amusing, right now it is not very becoming! How I perform my duties and indulge my free time is none of your concern!"

Now THAT'S the Frollo I know.

I felt tears well-up in my eyes. He had never before spoken to me so harshly. Claude sensed my reaction, softened his tone and took me in his arms. "Forgive me, Nisha", he whispered sweetly in my ear, "I shouldn't have berated you like that. It's just that I was so angry, so... oh my sweet love..." He kissed me deeply and tenderly. "You always come through for me. And what do I do? Rail away at you when I should be showing my gratitude."

I spoke too soon.

I gave him my 'what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it' look and asked, with hands on hips, "And just HOW grateful are you, Claude Frollo?"
A broad, seductive smile spread across his handsome face. In a playful voice and with a cute little wiggle of the hips he replied, "Oh...I can think of...a few things."
Oh why, I thought, does he have to be so damned fine? He cut quite a figure in his black, purple-trimmed velvet tunic, and pants that fitted oh-so-tight. The sweeping cape. That hat! Those boots!
THOSE BOOTS. FASHIONABLE. AND THOSE FITTED PANTS. REMINDS ME OF SOMETHING...


Fun fact, this commentary and the ones I made when I said THAT'S THE FROLLO I KNOW were made 4/14/19, cause i forgot about this and also couldn't remember my account info. Yesterday was the 10th year anniversary of HS, so happy birthday John. I can't believe it's been 9 years since I've known about HS. Time really flies by, man.

I swear I wanted to...well...right then and there. Hold on, hot stuff, I thought as I surveyed the dark little alley with trash piled here and there, this is hardly the place.
"Back to the Palace?"
Claude pondered a bit. "No, my dear. They are most likely swarming all over the place by now." He eyed the Camry then gave me a sly glance.
"Great minds think alike, don't they, baby?", I said as I opened the door on the passenger side. Claude settled himself in soft velour seats as I walked around to the other side. Boy, I thought, this evening's not a total washout after all. Claude buckled his safety belt as I began to switch on the ignition. He looked at me with questioning eyes, "Well? Have we forgotten something?"

For someone from the past, Frollo sure is hip with the times of the late 90's.

I strapped on my safety belt; I forget how much Claude cares about my well-being.
"Are you sure this will work a second time?", he asked.
"It got me here, didn't it?", came the reply. Claude Frollo smiled. "Drive on then."
Guiding the little Camry down the narrow streets, we came to the immense square near the Palace of Justice. Just as Claude predicted, a horde of young women crowded around the Palace's main entrance. "Turn off the lights", Claude whispered.

I don't understand how this guy has women swarming after him, seriously. Look how old he is!.

I doused the lights. "Now what?", I asked. "Drive toward Notre Dame," he directed, "they wouldn't dream of going there. At least I hope not!"
I complied and drove toward the cathedral. It was amazing how quickly we reached the Place de Notre-Dame, and without being detected. "Do you have enough room to do this?", Claude asked.

You know, looking at the time frame, I find it hard to believe that not one single person came out in awe at an unknown vehicle coming by, even if it this takes place at night, especially since I'm pretty sure this is far from the first time she's rumbled in with her Camry.

"We'll find out." The Camry was in position. "Brace yourself", as my foot pressed down hard on the accelerator. Claude's eyes were wide with alarm, and, just before I reached under the dash and depressed the violet button, he saw Quasimodo at the front entrance of Notre Dame.
"Don't worry, Master!", Quasi called out, "I won't tell a soul!"
"What a sweet little guy", I remarked just before a bright, white light engulfed us. Claude, shielding his eyes, replied, "I can always count on him." He closed his eyes tightly as we sped through time and space. Then darkness again.

Quasimodo was the best part of this fanfic IDGAF.

* * * * *
"You can open your eyes now, honey", I said as I guided the car through downtown streets. Claude Frollo slowly opened his eyes. With a sigh of relief, he turned to me and said, "I never thought a 20th century American city would be such a welcomed sight. Besides, I needed to get out from under all that.....isn't that the American Legion Mall? Lovely grounds...very green and well-laid out." I knew he was trying to make small talk, but I didn't mind. He had just come through a highly embarassing and nerve-wracking ordeal and he really needed a little release.

This fanfiction was made in the 90's, but still has today's standards of putting modern (at the time) media into work as if they're the hippest thing, one thing that aged well from this, I'll admit. I can totally see an 2011 fanfic with this lingo..

"Yes, that's it", I replied, watching the way he toyed with the radio. "Here, Claude", as I fumbled around in the console between the seats. "Pop this in the CD player."
Claude Frollo burst into smiles and laughter. "Ray Charles'--'Night Time is the Right Time'! I remember when you sang this to me the first night we...." Still chuckling, Claude loaded the silvery disc into the player,
This still can sitll happen in a 00's and 2010's fanfic, not gonna lie. On these parts, her writing on modern technology isn't bad as well.

hit the play button, and soon we were singing along with Ray as we cruised up Meridian Street towards the northside neighborhood where I lived.

Does her parents get to meet the amazing old Frollo hopefully they knock the black sense back into her.

This is chapter 3, done almost a YEAR after this was published. I doubt anyone is actually looking at this, but if you are, I'm SO sorry for almost 11 months of no updates. I forgot to update this story, and with finals in school, I had no time, and thus forgot even the username. I actually got back into this in, like, January I think, but once again forgot all information. For now, this series is discontinued. I have no motivation to continue reading this, and I prefer making fanfictions than analysing them hypocritically, sorry. For anyone that sees this, my fanfic account is here: Lumiere de Venise.

Ciao!

---
Hello; I am going "back to the frollo", and am now presenting to the audience a very, very special story: Back to the Frollo.

Enjoy!
---

Chapter Two

I sat in the car hoping the figure I saw was him.

I still have a prediction that the figure is Belladonna, Esmeralda, or the guy he fired.

By now I was really getting concerned. Several minutes passed; I forget how long I sat there and waited.
Her car doesn't have the required functions to tell the time of another timezone, but she was able to make a time travel device out of the car. Interesting.


To keep myself occupied, I began to think about our first encounter. I was not exactly what he had expected --

He always got the women who were obedient, not being able to stop his abuse and molestation kind, gentle women.

I was a little older than most of his FSMs,

Danisha is a young teacher. Fangirls also submitted their fan characters, and most fangirls tend to be around 12-17, but I'm guessing the characters, themselves, were around 15-21.
I have concluded that my disturbed reaction to a creepily implied, scandalous, and ludacious reveal has left a desire of a repulsive ejection.


and possessed a habit of speaking my mind he found most endearing. I'll never forget his expression as I walked across the square towards the Palace of Justice. I was sashaying in a colorful dress that didn't exactly hide my curves,

That last sentence; that is a sign of a self-insert. Also, I believe the most accurate of outcomes would be you getting the same treatment as Esmeralda, although you made sure to avoid that, huh? (You, audience, will get this joke later, don't worry.)


my dark wavy hair tied with a kente scarf,

Claude Frollo, accurately, would of thought that you were affiliated with Esmeralda.

uletting my hips sway to an old rhythm-n-blues tune playing in my head which was held high and proud. I remembered sitting just within eyeshot of the colonnade showing my big legs

I'm not judging your confidence in your clothes, but please remember how Frollo treated Esmeralda, based on her appearance, especially on her low cut blouse.

and Claude Frollo said he felt a blast of tropical heat hitting him

Black women are always described with an island like feel. Lol.
Anyway, did CrazedWriter ignore how similar her color and Esmeralda's color are? Did she also ignore how the tanned women was treated by others? Most important of all, though, did CrazedWriter forget that her character was African-American? I'm not saying that the French would be saying "Bon'jour!" while wearing KKK hats, but they sure wouldn't be all jolly and (With good intentions) heads over heels for you.

in the face that very moment I raised my big brown eyes to the tall slender man standing on the balcony. All those young Paris bucks tried to make small talk with this proud American princess.

I'll give this points, since men were lusting over Esmeralda when she on stage, in that one scene.

I answered one such little man, playfully mind you, and in my best old-Negro dialect, "Ah belongs to no man, 'cept Mins'ter Frollo." (Of course, he and I weren't an item as of yet)
Claude was so sweet, so attentive that summer.

Ah, yes, such a sweet man. Remember how he only let Quasimodo have a tiny moment of joy so that Quasimodo would be even more sadder, when the guards and villagers started throwing tomatoes and residue at Quasimodo? And how, when Quasimodo called for Frollo's help, Frollo looked at him, before turning away with disgust? Esmeralda saved him, but I bet you took that part out. (The Esmeralda comments will soon make sense, audience, just wait.)

We read poetry to each other, I cooked some good old soul food, taught him to like old Motown, told him stories and jokes that made him laugh. He called me his "sweet brown sugared lady" and said he would always look forward to my sweet, wild-honey kisses.

Remember how I mentioned the villagers lusting over Esmeralda? The video is above. Notice how Frollo, for the most part, finds Esmeralda to be sinful, due to her confident sexual appeal.
Danisha would be treated the exact same way.

I started to cry at that memory, but fought back tears just in time to hear a pounding on the rear window. I got out of the car, walked around towards the trunk, and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Claude!" I embraced him, kissed his cold but still-inviting mouth.

My stomach is very uneasy, after reading that. Why do people find this guy hot? I can't understand the appeal women have to this guy.



"I got here as fast as I could."
Claude looked at me with relief and gratitude, "I thought you'd never come. Oh, my dear Nisha....my love...

The fact that Frollo is saying this makes that sentence creepy.

I went...swim...blasted soldier...couldn't get to...my clothes...took my horse...I'm so cold...

I know he's naked, but if he went to a pond to soak in water, why would the weather now bother him?

Danisha...darling..."
This was not the Claude Frollo I was used to seeing.


It isn't the one I know either.

This man, shivering-cold, tears streaming down his face, his otherwise neat gray hair all windblown, allowed himself to show a little vulnerability, something he never displays in public.



He told me of the late afternoon swim, how some soldier he had discharged earlier today had lifted his clothes and stolen Snowball, how he was chased through the streets by adoring FSMs.

If I was one of the FSM creators, I'd be pretty pissed at how CrazedWriter treats the other fan characters. If you're going to insult the characters' worth, as well as bully the creators into not having their mistresses being important,why bother having a collaboration?
I embraced him again.
"I had a feeling something like this would happen. It's all right, honey. I understand."

Is she now going to "alpha bitch" the others?

He held me tightly and kissed me tenderly.
"I had managed to escape with only this." He revealed a sterling silver pager, studded with amethysts. "I was desperate, Nisha. You were the only one I could turn to."

I know purple and gems symbolize "da $$$", but why is it the only thing described greatly? Because it was pop media? If so, then this is so outdated.

I opened the back door, reached inside, handed him the pile of clothes,

Wait a minute, I just realized this; why didn't he rush inside the car, and THEN change? He was shivering, right?

then waited as Claude sat in the backseat, dressing hurriedly. "We don't have much time", I said, "anyone could come along and..."
"I am aware of that", he replied with a haughty edge to his voice. It was a good sign. He'd quickly

A....Are they going to have sex?

regained his usual commanding demeanor.

Please don't have smut in this. Please.

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

You know, chapter one and two should've been combined. Even for a fanfiction, the chapters feel a tad short. Perhaps, as time goes on, it shall exceed such short endings.

Anyway, till next time, my dear readers.

---
Hi peeps, I am back at it again. Now, we're going into the full fic.
Enjoy.
---



Chapter One, Or, "How I Rescued Claude Frollo from An Embarrassing Situation"
I was not very pleased when my pager went off. I was presently downtown attending a retirement dinner for a colleague, dressed to the nines, seeing old friends and co-workers, and having the time of my life.

Instead of Danisha being an alternative, secretive self insert, CW should've literally had herself in the story. Art intimidating life is an understandment, in this story.


Nonetheless, something in the back of my mind told me to answer this page. Maybe it was my parents - Momma could be sick, or, I shuddered, the house could be on fire. As I reached inside my purse, I discovered it was not my "regular" pager but that beautiful sterling silver device, studded with amethysts,

Outdated pop media references...

which lit up the interior of my evening bag so brightly I had to hastily close the bag and excuse myself from the table. This was no ordinary page; this was a true emergency. No need to find a phone, I knew exactly what to do.

"What happened?", I muttered to myself, as I hurried through the crowded hotel lobby with car keys in hand, "He wouldn't page me unless he's really in trouble. He knew I had plans tonight."

She doesn't have to automatically go to Frollo?

I find that VERY hard to believe.

Soon I was driving through downtown traffic...so busy for Friday night. Geesh, twenty years ago you could stand on the Circle, fire a cannon up Meridian Street and hit no one. Got to keep my mind together. I've got to get to him, help him. Then my concern turned to annoyance. "Oh I know what he's been doing,"

He has multiple spouses, desr Danisha. I doubt that his lust for sexual interactions will be limited to a single woman, especially if said woman lives 100+ years into the future.

I said out loud, recalling the cryptic message flashed across the pager screen, `bring clothes'. "And it got him in trouble. Good enough for him! I told him what would happen if he did this alone.

Don't do it alone? Or, rather don't do it without you, so you can have your sexual fiasco underwater?

Anyone could come along and...well...he DOES have a lot of people mad at him and..."

Take note on this part, and how she talks about people pissed off at his actions. This will be a major issue, later.

My voice trailed off as I approached a huge, abandoned parking lot. My little Camry will need alot of room to make this trip. I slowly guided the car into position. "I hope this works. It did it the last time." My foot firmly pressing down on the accelerator, the Camry opened up full-speed.

I wonder how large the "huge, abandoned parking lot" is, for her to not crash.

"Almost there," I said, "here goes nothing." As the speedometer registered 100 mph, I reached under the dash, pressed the little violet button, and in an instant I was engulfed by a bright, white light.

++++++
The streets narrowed and I couldn't see much because it was so dark. What happened to the streetlights? Then reality struck me. It worked!

Why is she surprised? If she and Frollo has distant contact with each other, and Frollo has a deep OOC love for her, Danisha must've been speeding a lot of times, if you get my jist. She's acting like she's only done this one other time.

I had to keep the lights low and drive as slowly as possible; I didn't want to wake folks up or draw too much attention.

A black woman with a futuristic vehicle will draw attention, either way.

Besides, the streets are so narrow, never meant for an automobile. These good medieval folks would surely freak out if they saw this thing coming.

If the ACTUAL Frollo saw this, you would end up like Esmeralda.

And I don't believe Danisha wants to be anywhere in the situations Esmeralda got in, heh heh. (You'll get the joke, soon.)

I stifled a laugh and headed for the Palace of Justice.
Maybe he's home already, or maybe he decided to swim longer, but now it's too cool to swim. I tip-toed to a door partially hidden by ivy vines. He told me how to get into the Palace whenever he's not here.

(Out of all the woman, Follo likes that "fine piece of chocolate wife" the best, and CW doesn't even attempt to make it subtle
)

No one knows this "secret" entrance but me. I cautiously entered, removed my shoes -- can't have high heels clacking on stone floors.

Points for having a scene where you're sneaking around, and taking off the heels. Every other fic forgets this.

I passed a sleeping guard, and crept up the stairs to his room. I quietly knocked.

I suspect a high probability that:
1-He is sexually interacting with another spouse.
2-Another woman of his affection is awaiting for his arrival, and the two women will quarrel on their positions, maybe the Belladonna wife, leader of the main group of women.
3-Frollo is there, and there's going to be an erotic scene.
4-The lieutenant Frollo fired is there, and will try to rape Danisha, until Frollo stops the assault.


No response. I then opened the door ever so gingerly, peeped inside, and softly called, "Claude?"
Still no answer. With little flashlight in hand, I entered the room, went to the wardrobe and quickly gathered some clothes. If what I thought had really gone down, then he's going to need these.
All my predictions are wrong. I swear, CW is getting the best of me. All these cliches are turning into new routes!

Anyways, why didn't Frollo tell her where he was? Or, at the very least, find a way into his dwelling, and wait for his "favorite mistresss"?

I silently descended the stairs, and made it outside without being detected.
Putting the clothes in the backseat, I thought, he's going to thank me well and truly, but this is the last time I'm going save his neck. Yet, as I slowly made my way down narrow corridors, my sarcasm turned to concern.

Concern of missing his dick?


If I didn't care for him so, I wouldn't be doing this. He could be hurt or sick, or...

Taken by another one of his many better hoes lesser mistresses?

My mind was shocked back into reality when I spotted a tall figure dashing down a side street.

Frollo, or the guy he fired? Or, maybe, Esmerelda. If it it's Frollo, then you briefly saw the birthday suit of an old, wrinkly man? Um...that is not very pleasant.

I guided the car to a dark alley,

I hope that Danisha remembered to show her Camry the area where Frollo burns "witches" on the stake. Although, Frollo will most likely be good in this fanfiction, so that the romantic and sexual scenes can seem more mutual via Danisha's actions.

put the Camry in park, and waited...


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

That was it. Next chapter soon!

--------
Right now, the Royal Wedding is on. So what better way to celebrate it, except reviewing this fanfic?

If you know who the Fanfic Critic is, then you should know this infamous 1997 fanfic of Claude Frollo, the antagonist in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Somehow, a certain black writer found his old, wrinkly and skinny apperance charming, to the point where she made multiple fanfics. </span></b>

Inspired by the 2011 reviews of thwt Columbine fanfic, by Mind-Spasms/Leabrady, I present to you a full anaylzing on this story, since the FanficCritic has...well, you know.

That being said, let's begin.

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

The Prologue, Or How It All Began...
It had been a grueling day, and Claude Frollo had put in long hours at the Palace of Justice. First there was that band of highwaymen who had terrorized Parisians traveling in and out of town. He had laid a careful trap for these hoodlums, successfully capturing and, ultimately, punished them for their crimes. Then there was that new, dimwitted lieutenant. He had infuriated Claude with some minor insubordination, so much that Claude made sure he was justly "disciplined". So what if this half-brained soldier complained, "I'll never be able to secure another position again! You made sure of that! I'll get even with you, Claude Frollo!"

I wish that the story was about Frollo's cruel ways with his power, as I believe that type of fanfiction would've been well received.

The Minister of Justice sneered at this inane threat. "And just WHAT will you do? It is obvious you can't even negotiate a walk across the street, let alone perform your duties! Yes, I guarantee you'll never find work in Paris again - now begone, you idiot!"
Claude Frollo smiled. It had been a productive day, but oh-so tiring. He needed a release. Claude paced about his study, restless from boredom, yet drained from overwork. A thought suddenly came to him. That's it!, he thought. After all, it was a warm day, and a quick swim would be just the thing to relieve the stress. Claude Frollo's thoughts turned to Danisha, his 14th FSM.

For those who don't know, Danisha is self insert of creator of this series, CrazedWriter. CW made Frollo a man who "got all the hot ladies"; he had about twenty wives, all of them fan-created by people who were in CW'S circle, although those people have implied that CW strictly reminded them that Danisha was the most important.
https://kiwifarms.net/attachments/…

Keep in mind, she told these people to humble their importance to Frollo in their OWN fan stories.

She suggested I take up some pleasant past-time, he thought, my lovely wild-honeyed lady. Always so caring, so sweet, so...
One issue many have with CrazedWriter is how he grows "soft" for Danisha. See that video above? That's Frollo's behavior in sexual situations. Nothing of seductiveness and romantic intimacy, but of creepiness and blacker tones. And, no, with Frollo's face, that isn't hot.

His mind raced back to that magical summer of luscious days and even sweeter nights spent with her. She had maddened him at first with her off-the-wall humor and saucy tongue. Yet, somehow, she had managed to melt his heart and stirred a desire in him so strong that he could not...

Esmeralda also had a tongue. Ignoring the gypsy part, her attitude and rebellion towards him almost led to her demise. Oh, and fun fact: that feistiness will be an important factor, later.

"Stop this!", he muttered to himself. "Thinking about her only stresses you more."
But it good stress! A wicked smile lit up his face as he made his way outside.
Welp, looks like it's raping time. Oof.

Mounting his horse, Snowball, he informed his sergeant that he was going for a short swim. "If an emergency should arise, you'll know where to find me."
Claude did not notice the just-fired lieutenant lurking in the shadows of the Palace. As Claude rode off, the ex-soldier motioned to some boys playing nearby.
"Hey kids!", he called to them, "Want to earn a little money?"
1: I have a great prediction that this lieutenant will either be stopped by Danisha, try to kidnap Danisha later on, or will team up with a certain woman.
2: Wouldn't it make more sense to, if he's trying to harm Frollo, get an experienced hitman, or kidnapper?

"Sure", said the oldest boy. "What do you want done?"
The soldier grinned. "Let's play a game called "Getting Even with the Boss".
The boys nudged each other and grinned back.
"Where to?", asked the youngest.
"Just follow me." And soon the entire group followed the tall man riding a fine black horse.

Oh dear, it appears that the parents of these children have not warned them, or at least not of a full session, about the dangerous exigency of the unknown.

Woah, I lowkey pulled a Rose Lalonde, with that formatted sentence...

* * * * *

Claude Frollo reached a lovely, secluded spot just outside of town. The water looked so inviting and refreshing. Besides, there was no one around to spy on him

Too obvious foreshadowing.

or bother him with petty concerns. Here he could be by himself, enjoy a swim, and collect his thoughts.
Claude tied Snowball to a tree, neatly folded his clothes and piled them on the riverbank.

I pray that this does not dwell into a description of his naked form, but it is, sadly, always the case with erotica.

and took the plunge. Oh, this is heavenly, he thought, as he allowed the cool water to envelope and rejuvenate his body and mind. It was nearly sunset, he realized, must not stay too long... but this IS wonderful.
Claude became so wrapped in his enjoyment that he did not notice a group of boys watching him through the bushes. He did not see those same boys quietly lift his clothes and untie his horse.

Frollo always has an eye on his back. Although, the water "IS wonderful."

Nor did he see the ex-soldier guiding Snowball down the road.
Ah, nearly dusk, must get out now. I'm feeling sooo much better. Claude got out of the water and reached for his clothes. He suddenly panicked.
Where are my clothes! Where's my Snowball! He looked up just in time to see that damned soldier and some boys hastily running down the road with his clothes and horse.

I thought that there was going to be an attempted murder. Huh.

"Come back here you thieving vermin!" Claude roared at the top of his lungs. "You'll dearly pay for this insult!"
In their haste, the merry group dropped Claude's cape and something else. A sterling silver, amethyst-studded device. Claude picked up his cape and the small, silvery pager.

How convenient.

Wait until I get my hands on them! I'll tear them apart! Make them suffer the worst possible punishment I can... Claude Frollo was livid, as he wrapped the cape around himself, and, clutching the little pager, walked back to town.

* * * * *

Judge Claude Frollo slipped back into town unnoticed.

He's a big deal, so that's kinda hard to believe. Although, by the time he returned, it was most likely well into the night, so...

Thank goodness no-one's spotted me,

Thoughts need to be in intalics. Not too picky on grammar and spelling, as I always focus on the story, but CW was a teacher, I believe in the English Language of Arts.

he shuddered, his body now shivering from dampness and the cool evening air. Have to make it back to the Palace of Justice and then I'll take care of those thieving ruffians...
Just then, he heard a swell of female voices heading up the street. FSMs!

FSM= Frollo's Secret Mistresses. A whole harem to a villian with exaggerative details on his skinniness and age. Wonderful.

How did they find me? That blasted soldier! Now he will clearly pay for embarassing me!

But the horde of young females had already spotted his tall, slender form. "There he is!", shouted Aranxta, "Ooh, he is DIVINE!"
Their leader, a woman who called herself Belladonna, urged the ladies, "Get him, girls! Don't let him get away!"

Belladonna's going to get taken off as leader by Danisha, isn't she?
Also, no one in the canon universe would lust over Frollo. They wouldn't even marry him for power. No one would even be a cloud-chaser for Frollo.

This is not the face of a man who gets bitches with their consent.

Claude dashed up a side street, trying frantically to get away. He felt a tug at his cape. It was one of the older FSMs.
"MADAM!"
"Just trying to get a peek at that MANLY body!"


Apparently, CrazedWriter is not the only rabid fangirl that belives an old, wrinkly man can have the abs of a 22 year old. I don't understand the appeal Frollo has on these people.

"Ladies, please!", Claude pleaded, "This is not a good time. I have important business to attend to...." Eventually he struggled out of the cape and disappeared down a dark alley, whilst the FSMs continued fighting over him.

Huh, you'd think they'd be chasing after him. Guess that's one TV Trope deconstructed! ...Kinda.


* * * * *

Out of breath, cold, and angry, Claude hid in a recess of an abandoned building. He still clutched the tiny pager.
"Why didn't I think of this before? Yes! She will help me. My beautiful brown-sugared....Darling Nisha..."

You know, seeing as this is Frollo saying this, it doesn't seem as romantic; it seems very sexually malicious.

Claude took the pager

You know, one the most popular, unspoken rules of writing is to not put in certain pop media, unless it is specific for the story. Not only does it makes your work outdated and out of style, like most pop trends, but it also can show your age. This alone makes the story between the 1831 and 1997, you know, outdated. If Danisha gave him it, and it's used like it's the new iPhone, then this story will become VERY outdated. Just saying.

and began pushing the buttons. He cast his eyes heavenward.
"Oh PLEASE let this work", he prayed as he began coding a cryptic message.

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

That's the end of the prologue. Now, I have to upload my analysis on the next chapter. Can't wait for all the self insert romance.

See ya soon.