Now, I know that I’ve said I’m hanging up my Fifty Shades of Grey critique hat. And I meant it. But just because I’m done with a thing, that doesn’t mean that thing is done with me (see also: Catholicism, ice cream with too many wacky ingredients, my three separate lifetime bans from the Sprinkle Rd. Denny’s). And last week, whoo boy. Last week, Fifty Shades of Grey was certainly not done with me.
Are you ready to venture down one of the deepest, darkest rabbit holes you’ll ever find in fandom?
The day after the Oscars, I noticed something that really grossed me out.
This post is going to be wildly image heavy, so follow the cut if you’re curious to see how this all plays out.