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megsironthrone · 3 years

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Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 15

*Familiar Characters are NEVER mine! The original story of "Rapunzel" was written by The Brothers Grimm.*

Warnings: Rapunzel AU, angst-ish, a little fluff

Pairings: Prince!Jaime Lannister x fem!reader

This hunt was not going as planned. Not at all. Not only had Jaime not caught anything, but he'd gotten hurt in the process. It just wasn't a good day. The only thing Jaime was looking forward to now was getting home, getting clean, and collapsing in bed. That was the thought that kept him pressing forward. But then? He heard it. A voice calling out.

"Y/N! Y/N! Let down your hair!" Jaime followed the sound of the voice and came upon a tower. At the bottom of a tower was an older looking woman, but that wasn't what caught Jaime's attention. it was what the old woman was climbing. It wasn't a ladder or a rope. No. It was…hair?! Jaime's gaze followed the hair up and, as expected it was attached to the head of a woman. A beautiful woman. Well, from what he could see from a distance anyway.

How had Jaime not seen this tower before? He hunted in these woods all the time. Jaime watched until the two figures disappeared from view. Jaime had always been the curious sort of man, so the need to know more welled up in his chest and it took everything in him to stay away from the tower. If the younger woman was trapped up there, it wasn't safe for him to approach while the older woman was there. So, he left, determined to come back the next day when hopefully, the younger woman would be alone and safe.

The next day, Jaime was out early, heading toward the tower. He got there quickly, hiding in the bushes until the older woman was gone. As soon as she was out of sight, Jaime ran up and called out the same phrase he'd heard her call out the day before. "Y/N! Y/N! Let down your hair!" It took a moment, but soon the voluminous length of hair came cascading out of the window of the tower.

Wasting no time, Jaime began to climb. His arms and legs burned with the effort, but his curiosity was piqued and he couldn't go back now. He had to meet the woman at the top of the tower. Who was she? Why was she there? Would she ever want to leave? Was the old woman kind to her? All these questions fueled Jaime's climb until he finally made it to the top and swung into the window.

"W-Who are you?" Jaime glanced up to see a pair of beautiful eyes staring back at him in fear and wonder. You were more beautiful up close. "I think the better question is who are you and why are you in this tower?" You arched a brow. "That's two questions. And you're the one who climbed into MY home. Now, who are you?" Jaime held his hands up in gesture of surrender.

"Jaime. My name is Jaime. I-I saw your tower yesterday and heard the old woman call out to you. I had to know more." You let out a scoff and shook your head. "Mother says the outside world is cruel and vicious. The tower keeps me safe" Jaime nodded. "She's right about that. But I mean you no harm. I swear." You regarded him with distrust. "I don't think I believe you." Jaime chuckled. You were smart. "Perhaps I could sit with you a while? We can talk and maybe then you'll trust me." After a moment of thought, you nodded slowly in agreement.

*time skip*

"Y/N! Let down your hair!" Jaime called out. He'd been coming to see you every day for weeks now. At one point, he'd nearly been caught by your mother. That day you'd been frightened and told him to stay away. He hadn't of course, but you were slowly growing to trust him. It was his favorite part of the day, getting to see you.

Despite being locked up in a door less tower your entire life, you were very intelligent. You could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound. Jaime couldn't hide the fact that he was a prince from you for very long. You were also very sweet, but had a temper that Jaime admired. You rarely showed it, but when you did, you could scare the most fierce creatures. The only thing that bothered Jaime, truly bothered him really, was that you seemed content to never leave your tower. You wanted adventure, but you didn't want to leave your mother.

As Jaime climbed your hair once more, he went through his argument in his head. He was going to try and get you to talk to your mother about leaving the tower for good. It couldn't be healthy being locked away all the time, could it? Jaime didn't expect what was going to happen.

"Hello, Y/N!" Jaime greeted as he climbed in the window. He looked up only to be met with the face of your mother. She looked livid. "Who are you?! How did you find this place?! Did he send you?!" Jaime glanced at you in confusion. "He? Who are you speaking of?" Your mother relaxed a little, but only a little.

"Does anyone know you're here?" she asked and Jaime shook his head. She smiled. "Good. Then no one will know what I'm going to do to you." A crack of lightening sounded over heard, causing Jaime's brows to furrow. It had been sunny when he climbed in a moment before. He glanced out the window to see rows and rows of thorns springing up from the ground.

"MOTHER NO!" you cried. Jaime spun around to see that your mother was about to push him from the window. "Please, Mother, don't! Jaime is my friend. I-I think I love him." Your mother whirled around and Jaime's eyes widened. "Do you even know him?" You nodded sheepishly. "He's been coming every day for many weeks now. I'm sorry I did not tell you. I didn't want to lose him. Or you."

Your mother approached you. "Y/N, darling, how can you trust him? I've told the outside world is a horrible place. I'm the only one who can protect you." Jaime's brows came together as he processed what was being said. "Protect her from what? Surely there can't be an actual threat on the life of someone so kind and lovable. Can there?" Your mother let out a sigh.

"I suppose there's no harm in telling you now. I'm not your real mother, Y/N. Your real mother charged me with caring and protecting you when you were only a child. I was to keep you safe until she reached out to me. But then she died and the threat to you grew worse."

"I ask again, threat from what?" Jaime asked. He wasn't one to draw out stories longer than necessary. That was more Tyrion's expertise. The woman rolled her eyes, but continued on, "The threat from Lord Gregor Clegane," she stated before turning back to you, "Your brother."

"M-My brother?" She nodded. "I know Gregor. He's a monster," Jaime stated, "Your mother was right to send you away. I'd forgotten there was a third sibling. After Gregor held Sandor's face over the fire, the third child was said to have disappeared. Some said she was murdered by Gregor for trying to tell people the truth about what happened instead of the story the late Lord Clegane told."

You looked between Jaime and the woman you knew as your mother in disbelief. "I'm a lady? Like…a trueborn lady?" They both nodded. "That's why I've kept you here. For your own good." You nodded, but Jaime wasn't having it anymore. You had said you thought you loved him. He wasn't sure anything would come of that love if you were stuck in the tower for the rest of your life or Gregor's.

"She doesn't have to stay in the tower. It's true Gregor is still alive, but I doubt he would recognize either of you. And even if he did, you would be safe. Your brother Sandor is still alive as well. He lives in the castle as part of the guard. You would be protected and safe anywhere you went. I swear it."

Your mother immediately began to protest while your eyes were glued to Jaime's again. For a moment, the two of you stared at each other while your mother droned on in the background. After a bit, you spoke again. "No, Mother. I won't stay here," you said, turning to her and taking her hands in yours, "I love you. Very much. I know you want to protect me, but I need to be out of this tower to discover this new part of who I am and if Jaime says he can keep me safe, I trust him. He hasn't broke a promise to me yet. Please, Mother. Let's leave this place together."

The older woman turned to Jaime and in a stern voice asked, "Can you keep your promise? Will you keep her safe?" Jaime nodded without hesitation. While he wasn't sure if he loved you romantically, he did have a love for you. He always protected those he loved. She stared into his eyes the same way you always did when you were trying to figure out if he was lying or not.

"Very well. You have my blessing. I will return to my former cottage, but you two will go to the castle and enjoy life together. If you ever have need of me, you will know where to find me." With that, she placed a kiss to your forehead and nodded to Jaime. She waved her hand to cause the thorns to disappear.

Using your hair, she left the tower to return to her cottage. Jaime followed her down and waited for you at the bottom. You gripped tight to the hair that was going to be your way to freedom. Taking a deep breath, you began lowering yourself from the tower for the first and only time, ready to start a new adventure.

(a/n: That's our 15th tale! Only 3 more to go, plus 2nd parts for "A Hound-Shaped Helm" and "Three Days".)

#meg's game of tales #game of thrones #fairytale au #rapunzel au #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #jaime x reader

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abraxos-the-phantom · 3 years

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Scum Disciple Deleted

-scenes. Here you go @vodkassassin. Unformatted and mostly unedited save for some awkward phrasing I fixed as I skimmed through it. I have a habit of merely taking out scenes rather than straight deleting them when I don't think they work out so if you see it on the fic shhh I probably just found a better place for it, but for the most part I think these are unused

TLJ + MF; Flashback/Illusion

[Log: File:Save_??-???.?.????.log]

“You know, for a man so keen on maintaining the preference of a dignified cultivator, you are fairly quick to disband such things as you see fit,” Tianlang-jun mused.

Ming Fan threw a dirty look to the former Overlord of the Demonic Realm over his bowl of beef stir fry lily bulbs. It was a specialty in this region, boasting a sweet lily bulb due to the length of time the farmers around the area spent cultivating the plant. In other words, it was delicious and a welcome change to the guilt trip galore that was eating Lou Binghe’s cooking.

Oh to eat that delicious snow congee without feeling the compulsion to throw it all back up-

Well, no use dwelling on such things.

“Most of anything could be considered vulgar when in close proximity to you,” Ming Fan quipped, taking a generous helping of the stir-fry between his chopsticks. “If you had as much sensibility as you had sensuality, I guarantee that people would be more fond of you. Unfortunately, it is too late for me.”

“Hoh? Is that so?” Tianlang-jun’s lips curled in a smirk in spite of the fact that Ming Fan had no interest looking his way, regardless of the other demon happened to do. Some odd five or so years have taught Ming Fan that there were times when the best move for dealing with the other was simply ignoring him.

Ming Fan maintained his bland tone as he briefly paused to speak, “Yes.”

Tianlang-jun shook his head, “Honestly. Are all disciples of Cang Qiong like you, or are you just the special one.”

Said disciple only gave Tianlang-jun a significant dirty look, “You’d have to actually behave yourself to get to know another disciple of Cang Qiong.”

“Eh,” the Heavenly Demon leaned back against his chair with his hands crossed behind his head. “Too boring.”

Ming Fan made a noncommitting sound as he finally ate the last of his order, letting out a satisfied sigh as he leaned back in his seat.

“Ming Fan, a question if you are so gracious enough to grant me such a thing.”

Ming Fan only raised a brow, “You may ask, whether I answer is not on the table.”

“Why?” Tianlang-jun paused as he attempted to think about his question. “Why do you maintain this relationship of ours? It’s not as if you’re on any obligation to maintain basic relations for a political reason, and you hardly ask me anything so you aren’t after my wisdom. With Lou Binghe going in and out Cang Qiong Sect, it’s not as if I can threaten your Sect any more than I could try and fight with my son.”

Ming Fan crossed his arms, humming for a moment tilting his head just enough to convey thoughtfulness he turned to look the demon lord in the eye, “If you were to be confronted with a former enemy of a war without meaning, what would you do?”

Tianlang-jun hummed, “I wouldn’t care.”

“Exactly,” Ming Fan pointed out. “Now what would you do if you discovered you were on the wrong side of that war?”

“…I still wouldn’t care.”

“Would you?” Ming Fan hummed, “Well, that’s your choice.”

“So is that all? You pity me?”

“Not quite,” Ming Fan shrugged, idly arranging the finish plate on the table. “More like my recompense of sorts.”

Tianlang-jun’s expression was unreadable as he stared, quietly adding, “You realize that I’ve killed hundreds of cultivators like you. Your age, younger- older. It didn’t matter, they were obstacles in my path and I removed them.”

“Of that I do not doubt, but these days- the line between righteous and mad is thin,” Ming Fan snorted. “I stand at the meager in-between myself. But what else can I do? I am but a mere mortal, attempting to right his wrongs.”

Ming Fan took a final sip at his tea, “Sometimes, that is all one can do without going well and truly mad.”

Tianlang-jun chuckled, “I suppose that’s true.”

The hours seemed endless after that, a moment in time felt like hundreds upon billions as the two simply- existed.

“So,” Tianlang-jun said after an eternity’s moment. “What are you doing here Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan blinked, “Is this not one amongst our many meetings?”

The world seem to blur around him like ink amongst a pool of water. Fading into implied images as the sky and trees distorted. The sounds of the earth quieted to a hushed whisper. Ming Fan’s eyes casted around in confusion as the lively village dulled into a dead silence.

“It isn’t,” Tianlang-jun leaned back, smirking. “You’ve spent so long with me that I am now here with you- in limbo. I’m flattered Fan-er.”

Ming Fan narrowed his eyes, scowling, before looking away, “Definitely. Tianlang-jun never called me that to my face.”

Ming Fan twisted away from the…demon for some time to think.

TLJ + MF - Actual Flashback

“You look like you went a round and three more with a golem,” Tianlang-jun tsked at him.

“Are you going to lecture me about coming out while I look like I lost against said golem or are you going to sit your ass down and have some tea like we agreed?” Ming Fan snapped, wincing as he sat.

Tianlang-jun whistled wolfishly. “Why, I never took that War God to be the kinky type.”

“Don’t be so obscene,” Ming Fan rolled his eyes. “He landed me flat on my ass almost a dozen times. Of course sitting down would be a pain.”

“You know there’s this flower that-“

“No.”

“But I hurt just looking at you,” Tianlang-jun whined like a particularly annoying brat. “One tiny little adventure to look for a flower that heals bruises instantly, it’s a Lotus of a blue hue, I hear those people from the far West have been using it for some time.”

“And then Liu Qingge will have me spar against him, again, and this hellish circle will repeat itself. I am only saved by the fact that my cultivation is not as advanced as one of a Peak Lords, otherwise I would be healed by the end of the week and my pain begins anew,” Ming Fan shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but no.”

“Aww, well since you’re being so polite about it…” Tianlang-jun sighed and sipped from the tea. “Mn- this is good. Where did you get it?”

“Shang-shishu taught me how to prepare lemon tea before the fruits go out of season, apparently there is a sweetened-cold version of this as well, but he has yet to refine the technicalities of the ingredients. I worry for him, he always seems so busy.”

“He looks like a rodent who accidentally ate a pepper, though I suppose in this case it would be a block of ice what with Mobei-jun being his lover and all.”

“I did wonder how that happened, and worried a brief time. An Ding Peak’s disciples had said that their master would occasionally come home bruised and barely able to walk, they were rearing to go to war with the Northern Demons far before everything else happened.” Ming Fan sighed, “Well, it isn’t any of my business. I’m sure they’re dealing with the situation in their own way.”

“True that, those An Ding Peak children…physically they are weak, but it is always the weaker ones that surprise you the most. Especially when angry,” Tianlang-jun smiled as he mused. “Afterall, hornets don’t seem like much at first glance. That Mobei-jun has his work cut out for him, ah, speaking of. What of those two? Surely the boy is tip-toeing these days.”

“He tends to keep to the bamboo house, and we tend to stay far away from the bamboo house, especially at night.” Ming Fan raised his hand to drink. “That is all I will say of the matter.”

Ming Fan sighed, rubbing a hand against his eyes, “I am getting far too old for this.”

“Oh please, you’re not even a century old.”

“Hm, and yet somehow I am still significantly more mature than you. Have you reached the regression stage of life Tianlang-jun? I must say, I’m rather peeved that it’s a mental deterioration rather than a physical one for you demons.”

“Hoh?” Tianlang-jun leaned forward, smirking. “Wish to test how youthful I can be Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan raised a hand idly pointing at the silks of Tianlang-jun’s clothes, startling the heavenly demon as he wondered just what the other had found on his clothes.

Then Ming Fan flicked up, hitting the former Demon Lord up the lip and under the nose, causing Tianlang-jun to recoil, sputtering from the unjust attack. The audacity.

“I’m sure you’d at least warm the bed,” He deadpanned, sipping at his tea without a care as Tianlang-jun sputtered indignantly.

NMJ/MF - Original Re-meeting for ch 52; added here for my convenience (cus i don't wanna make another post)

“Gather everyone who can fight!” One voice called. “Sect Leader Nie is being surrounded by a pack of hell hounds! They need help.”

Ming Fan was out and running before anyone could even blink- with only Liu Qingge and Tianlang-jun holding enough time to react by following him.

“Shit-“ Mingjue cursed, swinging around Bàxià to hurl one attacking hound over to the side. “Meng Yao- you alright?!”

“Could use-” Meng Yao grimaced as he had to back off to avoid the snapping jaws of another hound. “Some help.”

“Reinforcements should be on the way!” Mei Lin cursed venomously under her breath. “Just where the hell did all these damned dogs come from?!”

“We’re being overrun!” Lang Fengyi yelped as he narrowly avoided claws.

“Fuck-“ Mingjue gathered his energy, willing it to fill him once more. “Get ready to run! I should be able to distract them long enough to-“

“Don’t worry about that.”

The disciples of Nie turned to find a man arrogantly walking through the field, the hounds yipping in fear and running from him, as well as another man clad in white and silver who eyed the hounds back.

Tianlang-jun stood before the disciples of Qinghe Nie with a bright smile, “Relax now, everything will be fine.”

Liu Qingge huffed, drawing his sword, “Says you. We have to make sure he’s not overworking himself remember?”

There was a distant rumbling- an ominous presence that washed over them to the point where all the hounds began to shudder and shake in fear as they too yipped around fearfully.

Descend with great speed. Swift and merciless. Run my enemies. Leave none left alive. May death greet you well.

Formation formed.

Ming Fan dropped his sword with militaristic precision, tilting all the swords generated by his power towards the ground in varying angles.

Heavenly Wrath Formation.

Tianlang-jun looked up in the surprise, “Don’t tell me that’s-“

“It is,” Liu Qingge scowled.

“Who-“ Nie Mingjue began- before all hell broke loose.

Liu Qingge’s expression was thunderous as he swept past rows of demonic hounds, tilting on hand and waiting-

Another man dropped from the sky not a second later, catching Liu Qingge’s robes and righting him before swinging his legs on the man’s waist to get around and jab another hound in the back- Tianlang-jun was swift to join the fray, allowing the shorter cultivator to move around him to get at all the lucky hounds who managed to move away from Ming Fan’s deadly aim fast enough.

While Tianlang-jun added to the deadly partnership with his own flare, it was the pair of Ming Fan and Liu Qingge that showed the obvious years of partnership between them- for the two had years of spars and night hunts to guide their blades where they need be.

Heads flew, limbs joining them as the immortals of Cang Qiong Sect and Tianlang-jun of the Heavenly Demon Line slaughtered the feared and the rowdy- leaving those of Qinghe Nie in awe.

“..Wei…” Meng Yao said, knees beginning to grow weak. “Wei Fan?!”

The man abruptly froze, glancing towards their direction before seeming to move on instinct- the War God sensing the sudden change and using his arm to propel him outward, allowing the man to fly across the air and land his sword true through the skull of the hell hound that was just about to take a chunk from Nie Mingjue’s side.

Ming Fan, not upset as he was, barked at them venomously, “Just what do you think you’re doing?! Fucking move! You’re in a battle field! Fight damn you! Are you not of Qinghe Nie?!”

“Teacher Wei!” Mei Lin cried- openly actually, crying.

“Oh for the love of-“ Ming Fan cursed. “I’ll take your crying and yelling and cursing later, lift your sabres and fight!”

“Xiao-Fan!”

Ming Fan turned, grunting as he launched his sword in the Heavenly Demon’s direction and skewering the hound. “What?!”

“Lower your blood pressure!”

Ming Fan felt his blood pressure rise out of sheer spite. “Fuck you!”

“A-Fan,” Liu Qingge growled. “You just performed one of the most powerful formations while silent. Calm down.”

“I can’t!” Ming Fan caught himself with a scowl. “But I’m not upset!”

“For the love of-“ Liu Qingge turned to Tianlang-jun. “Can you handle the rest?”

“Yeah I got it,” Tianlang-jun batted away a hound with his bare fist. “Just take care of our pissed off little horse first.”

Liu Qingge wasted no time, grabbing the now fuming Ming Fan, his nose beginning to trickle with a line of blood and generally causing the already shocked disciples of Qinghe Nie to panic.

“Hey,” Liu Qingge’s voice was soft as it was firm. “Calm down. Calm. That’s not a request.”

“I’m trying,” Ming Fan hissed. “You try doing this in the middle of battle.”

“Alright back up plan,” Liu Qingge turned to the still shocked Nie Mingjue. “You. Make yourself useful. He needs a distraction.”

“Wha-“

Liu Qingge shoved Ming Fan into Nie Mingjue, the taller man abruptly catching the man by the waist to steady him before something else caused him to loose balance.

Forgot one: Deleted Extra feat. Yang Yixuan + MF; written with it's og formatting since notes preserved my italics somehow

Cold wind swept past the ravine.

Shaking trees and rustling branches provided the background noise for the twittering creatures who lived in the back mountains. Within this quiet land was a surrounding of high elevation mountains spanning all around the mountain side.

There, Ming Fan sat quietly. Watching the creatures bellow- there were no humans for miles save for those few people within the Ancient Sect, and they were hardly just human anymore.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get off your ass.”

Ming Fan stiffened.

Yang Yixuan’s arms were cross across his breast, idly looking down from the view of Qing JIng Peak.

The landscape had changed much since Ming Fan had last come here, it was greener. With the trees far taller than when Ming Fan had last seen them, the older trees cut down by the ravages of war and time- but new ones taking their place. The silence too, was new. With no disciples Cang Qiong Mountain was a far quieter place than it had been during the height of its Sect Years. Some ascended, some peacefully settling into their next life, and some sticking around. Going to and fro the place carrying out errands and enacting a firm hand where the average Cultivator could not handle. The war had put a damper on such things, what with their stance of neutrality, bu it was no less somewhat of a sobering surprise that those of Cang Qiong Mountain had seen what was happening and judged it would be better to remain quiet.

He knew why of course, it was more practical in the long run for a mythical Sect, they were not here to force the future into their own hands- merely to counter the monsters of the yester years. Still. He wondered.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically here it,” the former head disciple of Bai Zhan peak, the former Peak Lord himself, continued with a raised brow. “You’re normally quick to empty your mind and dump it onto others.”

Ming Fan scoffed softly, “Normal is a poor basis to use to pass judgement at the moment, even a Bai Zhan Peak buffoon like you should realize such.”

“…”

Ming Fan pursed his lip, anger simmering.

Settle.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He said softly, allowing his fist to slack from their death-like grip.

“You just lost your brohter,” Yang Yixuan said bluntly. “You were a raving asshole when Liu-shifu dragged you here. Pretty much spat at Luo Binghe’s feet and insulted just about everyone.”

Ming Fan restrained the urge to flinch at every word.

“I’d be more than a little troubled if you didn’t act like that after losing your brother.” Yang Yixuan continued with a shake of his head. “It’s good to know that our illustrous Ming Fan is still a human.”

“Have I not proven that time and time again?”

“Dunno,” Ming Fan turned his head, the Bai Zhan Peak’s former sole disciple’s voice turning uncharacteristically soft. “You were doing a pretty good impression of acting like an immortal before.”

#Scum Disciple's Adventures Into the Unknown World #SDAUW #BTS I guess #Are there actually behind the scenes for writing idk #I'll see if I have time to write one since I do have a lot of notes from when i planned this fic #and maybe some bits of the history referenced in SDAUW #MDZS x SVSSS Fanfic #One that is tbh really out there in terms of concept ngl lol #Scum Disciple BTS

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julez-the-great · 7 years

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I Don't Like Cheese: Rant

Ok, so at one point in my life, I was told that I loved cheese, but one day, I just stopped eating it. I must have been a small child due to not remembering ever eating cheese willingly. Nowadays, the only cheese that I’ll eat come in the form of things such as cheetos, cheez-its, etc. I don’t even like cheese on my pizza or on burgers. The smell of cheese just puts me off from it totally as does the thought that some cheese has mold and it’s totally acceptable and safe to eat. Another food that I don’t enjoy is white rice, but if I had to choose between white rice and cheese, I’d gladly choose white rice over the cheese any day, so it’s not like I’m writing this to say that I won’t eat it just because I don’t like it.

The reason that I’m writing this is to alleviate my stress of this burden because it seems to me that I’m the only one that cannot stand cheese. It feels unfair that I’m not allowed to not like cheese while my friend is allowed to not like onions. It feels as though it’s more acceptable to not like onions because a lot of people don’t eat onions (I suppose. I’ve heard of more people disliking onions than disliking cheese).

I come from a family of cheese lovers. All of them–my parents, brother, aunts, uncles, cousins–love cheese like it’s their life source. They always praise cheese and always question me on why I don’t like it. It bothers me how they always pester me about it because they don’t give anyone else a hard time about what they don’t like to eat.

I know that I’m making myself sound picky and you can think of this in any way you want to. But just hear me out when I say that you shouldn’t constantly hound over someone when they don’t like a certain thing. It could impact them when everyone always pounds them with the questions that they’ve heard a thousand times–how can you not like it, it’s cheese! What don’t you like about it? What about pizza? Try this!–Do you know how old this gets coming from the same people? Or how annoying it is when you’re know as the girl who hates cheese? I should start seeing my dad as the one who doesn’t like brussel sprouts or my brother as the one who doesn’t like onions.

I have gotten to the point where I have been prepared with walking out of the house if someone in my family has continued to bring this subject on just because they thought it was funny. Dramatic, I know, but I’m sick of hearing it. With my friends, I’m a little more forgiving since they don’t see me as much as I see my family.

One thing that has arisen from this ordeal is that I fear telling others that I don’t like cheese. It’s the fear of being patronized that makes me keep this to myself unless absolutely necessary. What I have learned from my personal experience is to not judge people based on their food preferences alone.

I always get told that I’m going to grow out of it eventually, but I’m 18 years old now. I haven’t liked cheese for at least 14 years of my life. I just long for the day when cheese will actually be appealing to me so that this torture will stop and so that I can actually feel like a normal person for liking it–if such a time ever comes. I just want to be accepted and not harassed. I don’t want to be tortured anymore.

If you receive anything out of reading this, please know that I, a cheese-hater, hate to be discriminated for what I don’t like just because it’s cheese. If you point out my cheese-less diet, please make it a point to draw out everyone else’s undesired foods so that they may feel as vulnerable and as insecure as I do. Please know that a person can’t help what they do and dont like to eat and please know that others may feel the same way as me.

If there’s anyone reading this who feels the same way as I do, you’re not alone.

#i hate cheese #cheese #annoyed #it's annoying #i'm 18 #rant #personal rant #please accept me #spread awareness #you're not alone #it's okay #insecurity

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c-is-for-circinate · 7 years

Note

I am on the seventh dungeon, but my prompt is what happens if the Phantom Thieves don't quite take the bait on targeting who they are supposed to? What if they just double down on entering palaces for anyone that seems appropriate, entering the palaces of people they judge bad as rapidly as they can to help as many people as they can, instead of leaving month+ gaps.

I really like this one, it spurred many ideas in me!

I expect that there is more in this universe but eh, this is what we’ve got so far. An evening in Mementos, in a world where stop only ever means just for a second.

(Spoilers through early October)

Every other Saturday is Mementos night. It’s nicely consistent, something they can mark their calendars by. Consistency is key for everything they’re trying to accomplish here.

“Targets tonight?” Queen asks the table at large. It is large, especially with Noir here, but the diner is the closest place to Shibuya Station’s Mementos entrance where they can congregate without attracting too much attention for loitering. They never come here as a group, except on Mementos nights. The waitress knows them and their favorite back booth by sight. It makes Mona twitchy, which means Joker is twitchy, but that’s okay. A tense Joker is as still and quiet as a cat just before the pounce. It’s hard to read the hyperfocus in his posture unless you really know him.

“Three new targets from Mishima,” Skull reports. “Plus the one from last time whose name turned out to be wrong.”

“The blackmailer?” Joker asks. “Futaba?”

“Haru got her credit card information from the flower shop,” Oracle reports, her glasses glinting from the reflected glow of her tablet screen. “I traced the fake name back to an address rented under another fake name, and followed that back a bunch more levels to a real passport. Her real name’s Michiko Sakai.”

Nods all around. “Good job,” Joker says. “Anyone else?”

They rarely go into Mementos with fewer than half a dozen targets, these days. It feels like a waste. There are too many power-hungry, corrupt, and greedy people around. If they’re going to change all of Tokyo, they can’t exactly do it one individual at a time.

“I have one,” Queen says. “Our friend at the supply shop has been having some difficulties with a couple of old acquaintances. He could use our help.”

Queen is always the most circumspect, when they have these discussions here. She always positions herself near the end of the booth and within shin-kicking distance of Skull, just in case. Joker, who sits on the opposite side of the booth with clear lines of sight to both entrances and every possible line of approach, appreciates it.

“Uh, what kind of difficulties?” asks Skull. “And…what kind of old acquaintances?”

Queen waits for Joker’s nod–the next table over is preoccupied with a small child wailing over a spilled glass of milk, and the waitress has just stepped outside of easy eavesdropping range, so he gives it–and says, “Yakuza. Akimitsu Tsuda. He’s been threatening our friend. We’ll have problems if we don’t take care of this.”

“Is that a good enough reason?” Panther asks. "Just because we’ll have problems if we don’t?”

Joker worries about Panther, sometimes. Someday she’s going to fight enough battles, kill enough Shadows, that she stops asking that question. She’s not the only one who asks, but she brings it up most often. Their unanimous decision-making won’t be worth much if that finally happens.

If it does. It hasn’t yet. They’re still warriors of justice, for now.

“He’s rejected even the Yakuza’s version of a code of honor, and he’s suggested he’ll come after both our friend and his son,” Queen says. “He’s definitely killed before, and he doesn’t appear to regret it.”

“Good enough for me,” says Skull. “Anybody else? C’mon, somebody’s got to have something good.”

“Our reporter friend is experiencing difficulties, but nothing that presents a target as of yet,” Fox says. Joker is going to need to check in on that soon. Fox has the most time and freedom to hang around in a bar in Shinjuku with a mostly-drunken news hound, but he misses things, sometimes. It’s not an ideal setup, but somebody needs to cultivate Ohya. With the number of new palaces they have to explore, her articles are just too valuable.

If Joker had all the time in the world, he’d get to know her himself. If he had that much time, he wouldn’t need a team in the first place, and he’d have nothing to spend it on.

“That’s five,” says Queen. “A light evening.”

“Six,” Noir says. “I know how to beat that gamer.”

They all look at her. Mona purrs in satisfaction.

“Told you she could do it,” he says. Joker hadn’t been so sure about setting their newest member on the trail of that Gamer King–but it had been a test as much as it was meant to be a distraction from her father’s looming change of heart. He needed to see just what Noir could do on her own terms. She’s come through with flying colors. He’d hoped she would.

“That’s a full load, then,” Skull says in satisfaction. “We ready?”

Joker looks around the table of thieves–lean, fierce, hungry. Ready. Well-honed weapons thirsty for the next rush.

“Let’s go,” he says.

There are plenty of reasons for going to Mementos. Time is too precious not to multi-task, always, always, always. Joker beckons Queen to take Mona’s front passenger seat and heads his way down.

The first hour or so in Mementos, while most of Tokyo is still awake, is always predictable. Shadows mill back and forth along set paths and go down easily when Mona hits them, spilling out forms and faces that Joker’s already worn and known from the inside out. They spend it gliding through Kaitul, picking up treasure along the way and flexing their muscles for the warm-up.

“Learn anything interesting from Hifumi this week?” Joker asks. Tactics. He will never have time to learn to be half the strategist Queen is. That’s why he has her.

“She’s been focused on teaching me defensive plays lately,” Queen murmurs. The shadow up ahead trundles past without glancing in their direction, golden when Joker blinks his eyes, then back to shapeless lumbering darkness. “I’m pretty sure I can find us an opening to escape even if we’re surrounded.”

Useful. Very useful. It’s hard to understand how a few nights of studying under a shogi master could produce a tactic that practical, but Queen’s brain is a marvel and Joker never takes it for granted.

“Can you teach me?” he asks.

Mementos is perfectly, predictably unpredictable, especially this early in the night. Every tunnel twists and splits in new chaotic pathways every time they’re here, and every tunnel is always the same. It’s practically safe, more or less. It’s the perfect time to learn something new.

“Get us caught a few times tonight, and we’ll see,” Queen says. Her smile glints in the dim, green light of the twisted subway tunnel.

Joker considers the dim shapes just around the corner, at the edge of the sweep of Mona’s eye-beams, and lifts his head. “Get ready,” he says, loudly enough to cut through the banter of the back seat. “Fox. Skull.”

“Wait,” Mona says, as he spins the wheel and guns the engine, aiming just to the right of the lumbering shadow. They should pass by close enough to lean out the window and stroke it, if they wanted. Definitely near enough to draw attention. “Joker, what are you doing–”

“It’s spotted us!” Oracle warns. “It’s going to–”

Wham. The catbus keels over at the blow and Joker springs free, knife in hand, Arahabaki just behind his eyes and ready to go. Towering shapes spin up out of the gloom all around them, spitting fire and lightning and throwing Fox to his knees before they even have the chance to move. It’s fine. He can take far, far worse. Having time to prepare would defeat the purpose of training to be caught off guard, after all.

“You’re surrounded! This looks bad!” Oracle’s voice rings clear. Joker glances over at Queen.

“Leave it to me,” she says. “And guard!”

There are three shadows ahead of them, clustered, drowsing. They flicker different colors when Joker lets his eyes go unfocused and peers at them through thief-sight, red one moment, blue the next. No telling how strong any of them are–or will be, on and off, if they change mid-fight.

Late night, as Tokyo drops bit by bit off to sleep, is when Mementos really comes into its own. It’s a labyrinth of thoughts and possibilities when the real world is mostly awake. When Tokyo is dreaming? Anything at all could happen next.

Oracle’s in the front seat–seeing out the front window doesn’t help her navigate Mementos any better, but it puts her that much closer to Joker’s attention, lets him respond that split-second quicker when she hisses, “Now, go, now!”

A moment later the tunnel to their right wavers and melts away like soft wet ice cream, sludging down around the tracks on the floor. It’ll stick to Mona’s wheels like tar if they go too slow, and if they aren’t all the way through by the time the wall forms back up they’re in trouble, but Joker’s foot is already on the gas pedal and they shoot forward with a squeal and a squish of tires in the muck. The walls around them waver like heat-mirages in midsummer, iridescent with flickers of emerald and blue and gold against the Akzeriyyuth violet. Nothing in Mementos stays stable for long, but if they pick just the right moment–

“There it is!” Oracle points triumphantly ahead and to the left without even looking. “The next target.”

“Panther,” Joker says, and then considers the rest of his party. Fox and Skull are still knitting skin and bone back together from a few fights ago, Oracle’s passive restorative powers not quite as fast or clean as actually digging into their bags of medicine or their healers’ skills. Noir is starting to tire and pretending not to. Queen’s got plenty of energy still, but the night’s only just begun, and there’s no sense tapping her out yet. “Fox, use a Life Stone. You’re up. Mona too.”

“Yesss.” The cat-bus all but purrs around them. “Let’s get ‘em!”

In the other world, Takeshi Saito is a clean-cut police detective with an easy smile, one he tends to flash to burglary victims before suggesting they make a donation to his wallet if they want him to take their case seriously. In this world his smile splits wide, wider, spilling his insides out in a great ribbon of shadow that wends its way up tall and thin, Makami’s familiar face on a starving wolf slavering for their blood.

“Mona, Garula,” Joker orders, pulls Unicorn’s silvery-white bolts of lightning up in his own mind, and reaches for his mask.

It’s a swift, brutal fight. They’re stronger than Saito’s shadow, probably have been for months, but it’s quick enough to freeze Panther solid and nearly shatter her with a nuclear explosion that even rocks Joker back on his feet. Fox dives in, katana flashing, and slices it down before Mona even has Panther back up again, and Joker stands back to throw bolt after bolt of lightning, sending the shadow crumbling to its knees.

Saito’s shadow melts back into his human face, panting on his knees. Joker takes a step forward, then another one, gun at the ready.

“I’m sorry,” the shadow cries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just that the world and the system are so fucked already, I didn’t think it mattered if I took advantage of it.” He’s too pathetic to even want to kill. Human-form shadows get like that at the end, and Joker is grateful. They’re not murderers. Even now, they’re not murderers, and that matters.

“You should tell us about that,” Panther says, more sympathy in her voice than Joker could muster. Her health is low but she’s standing on her own two feet, stepping forward to offer Saito an understanding ear. “Who hurt you so badly you thought this was the only way to be?”

“I…I don’t…” Saito’s shadow shakes its head and rubs at its face. “So many people…”

“Who’s the worst?” Panther asks. “Not just to you. Who’s the worst person you know?”

“The district chief,” Saito says instantly. “He knew everything I was doing! He runs the whole precinct for himself, all he wants are convictions, he’ll even make us arrest the victims–”

“A name,” Joker says. “Give us a name.”

“Jirou Kazumi,” the shadow says. “Please, I don’t want to die.”

“Quit your job and atone for your crimes, then,” Joker orders. “Now go!”

The shadow dissolves into smoke. Joker snatches the kernel of Treasure out of the billowing black with one gloved hand, glances at it disinterestedly before he tucks it in a pocket. Freeze Boost. Not entirely useless, but not what they came here for.

“Well that was useful,” Mona says cheerfully. “Nice going with the information, Panther.”

“Ugh, I just want to climb into the back seat and take a nap,” Panther says, stretching her arms out and cracking her neck to the side. “But yeah, we’ll put Kazumi on our list of names to check this week.”

“Someone as powerful as a district police chief may even have a palace of his own,” Fox suggests, audibly pleased by the prospect. “Finally, another one.”

“What do you mean ‘finally’? We haven’t even finished Fujimada,” Oracle points out. The others are behind her, ready with high fives and congratulatory pats on the shoulder. Mona settles from two legs to four wheels with a satisfied beep.

“We are mere days from sending that calling card. It won’t do to be without a new palace for long,” Fox muses. “I wonder what it will be this time.”

“How can you start thinking about that when we haven’t even met the guy?” Skull shoves Fox up and into the bus. Joker hides a smile with long practice as he settles in behind the wheel.

“Two more targets to go,” Oracle proclaims in satisfaction. “C’mon, Mona, let’s hit the road.”

Time warps oddly in Mementos, when they stay for long enough. Their phones don’t help, blinking bright NO SERVICE notices whenever they try to use anything more than the Meta-Nav app, but Joker has a watch he scavenged from a shadow two months ago that hasn’t broken yet.

By 2 AM it never matters what path they’re on. Tiny Pixies that spit Ziodyne and dodge bullets spring up next to enormous, winding golden dragons along Adyesach just as Qimranut, and the walls flicker color and substance at every glance. Enemies appear and disappear mid-fight, or change form and abilities just when they’re inches from destruction and need to be defeated all over again. It only gets worse as the team’s eyes start to blur in exhaustion, and weariness drags their reflexes slower and slower.

It’s far too late to leave now. Out in the real world the trains from Shibuya aren’t running any more, and there’s no telling what sort of hell they’d have to pay if any of them were caught sneaking home at this hour. Better to stay put through the night and slip out in twos and threes in time for the 5:00 early train, fall into bed and sleep Sunday morning away as best as they can manage.

It used to be that they could barely last a couple of hours down on the twisting rail paths of Mementos, but they’ve gotten stronger since then. They only need a twenty-minute break. They sit clustered close together in the island of yellow light at a rest floor on some path or another, wailing winds whipping through the tunnels outside, dozing against shoulders. Panther pours still-hot coffee out of a canteen and offers it around.

“Not as good as Joker’s,” she says, but it’s warm and full of caffeine and that’s all that really matters here in the dark.

Fox is snoring gently with Mona a dark-furred lump in his lap, Oracle curled up beside him. Queen and Noir are tucked up against each other like pressing together can hold off the darkness. Joker nudges Skull’s ankle with his toe and passes the coffee to the side.

“Gah, hate that stuff,” Skull complains, but he takes the cup and downs it in three big gulps. “Shouldn’t we be saving it for this week’s Palaces?”

Panther shrugs. “I can always call Kawakami and have her make more,” she says. “Not that I like blackmailing our teacher into helping us out, but…”

“She’s helpful,” Joker says. Then, quietly, not loud enough to wake the others from any naps they might be managing–“How’ve you been?”

“Who, me?” Skull elbows him in the ribs, gently, where Joker is still a little bruised and healing. “I’m fine, man. Busy week, but hey, aren’t they all?”

It’s true enough. Joker’s barely seen Skull since last Saturday’s successful foray against Ryuunosuke Kuroda’s treasure, outside of the two days they spent slogging through the hot and sticky morass of Hina Fujimada’s jungle palace. There’s always a lot of work to be done, and never enough time to do it.

“You run into Takeishi or Nakaoka again?” Joker keeps the question casual, something that could be brushed aside, but his tone is serious enough. Skull stares down at his boots.

“Yamauchi’s fucking with them,” he says. “I know he is, and they’re all going to end up hurt or worse servin’ his ego, but I can’t…” He shakes his head. “Damnit, I know we could find him down here easy, too. No way Yamauchi doesn’t have a shadow we could beat the shit out of.”

“But we can’t,” Panther says, leaning forward, all worry and sympathy in her voice. “There’s too much attention on the school already. First Kamoshida, then Kobayakawa…”

‘I know, okay?” Skull shoots back. “I know already. And we can’t solve every problem in the world, those guys are going to have to work some shit out for themselves. I just hate knowing exactly what they’re getting themselves into and not being able to do anything about it. They’re–they used to be my teammates, you know?”

“It’s not your fault,” Joker says. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Queen’s foot twitch in something only a trained observer could possibly recognize as empathy. “If there’s anything we can do for them, we’ll do it.”

“I know,” Ryuji sighs, exhausted and defeated. For just a few moments he’s more boy than skull mask, more person than Phantom.

It’s important to remind the team of that, once in a while–Skull himself and all the half-dozing eavesdroppers who’ve surely been listening in for the past five minutes. Being Phantom Thieves is less of a career and more of an entire lifestyle. There’s never much room for any of their more human selves underneath.

“C’mon,” Ann says, patting Ryuji companionably on the knee. “Cheer up. Let’s wake up the others and go beat up monsters for cash.”

“Hell yeah,” Ryuji says with just a little more brightness. He lifts his head and that’s it, he’s Skull again, mask in place and ready to go. “C’mon, guys, shove some coffee down your throats and let’s hit it.”

Joker has his own tradition of slipping into the Velvet Room for the last half hour or so of Mementos night, while the others slowly trickle away one by one, avoiding the curious eyes of station attendants and curious police as they go. His Personas are always stronger after a night’s work, and he always seems to pick a couple of old ones back up along the way.

Today Orthrus and Lamia and Rakshasa latched on and clung to him, desperate to save their own lives, which was foolish of them. All Joker’s personas die sooner or later. He’s already got all three in his Compendium–now it’s just a question of how they die, sacrificed for items or turned into power for Queen Mab, for Scathach, for weak, unlevelled Hecatoncheires.

If Akira Kurusu ever had a true self, he sent it to the guillotine to fuse into a Kelpie six months ago. The Joker can’t be precious about protecting parts of his own personality.

“Wow, inmate. That’s dark.” Caroline chuckles approvingly, a sick nasty grin on her face as she and her sister head to the gallows. Joker doesn’t point out that feeding Daisojou the power it couldn’t get when he first fused it is really more about boosting light spells. It’s really all just sides of the same coin, after all.

It’s important not to get too cynical. Mona reminds him of that, once in a while. Too much cynicism, despair at the doomed and failing nature of humanity, is its own kind of distortion. Not everybody they’ve changed so far has thought their warped world represented reality as it justly ought to be–only reality as it actually is.

“Have you finished?” Justine asks after a while, as calmly as though she hasn’t fried and hanged and sliced her way through Joker’s selves one after another. He slips back from Velvet Room blue to Mementos shadows-and-red with a silent nod of thanks.

The light’s just coming up, filtering into the warped turnstile where Oracle is waiting for him cross-legged with her laptop, Mona by her side. It’s never bright down here, but morning always seems to make it a little less dark.

Palaces all blur together after a while. For Joker it started happening months ago, somewhere in between the flying bank run by Junya Kaneshiro, mob boss, and the high-security mafia compound holding the heart of Ichiro Shimizu, banker. They tend to repeat, after a while. There’s always another would-be king in their own castle, another cathedral built to honor some awful adult’s worst delusions of grandeur.

Last week they stole a tattered paperback copy of The Tale of Genji from the Heian-era Imperial Palace inside the heart and courtroom of a vicious, prideful judge. Their current target looks out at the dance floor of the largest nightclub in Roppongi and sees a dark, steamy rainforest full of hungry tigers and venomous beasts ready to devour each other at any moment. Next week they’ll check out Jirou Kazumi, for whatever that tip is worth, and maybe his world will turn out to be a fortress or a cave or a cattle ranch. They see the world through so many people’s eyes, one by one.

Mementos is easier somehow. Cleaner, maybe. It’s everyone’s palace and that means it’s nobody’s, a sliver of chaos and dreams, not anybody’s full world. It’s a nightmare, that’s all, and that means it dissolves with the dawn.

“Are you done zoning out at nothing?” Oracle asks. “Can we go home now?”

“Let’s.” He offers her a hand up from the floor and she scrambles to her feet, computer safely disappearing into whatever bag Oracle keeps it in when she’s not working. The others have all gone, as usual on a Sunday morning.

Sojiro tends to open the cafe later on Sundays. If they hop the next train to Yongen-Jaya, Joker should be able to help Oracle slip through her bedroom window and make it back to his own bed before Sojiro is there to notice he hasn’t been home. They’ll probably catch hell someday, but it hasn’t happened yet.

It’s October already, a chill in the early-morning air when they slip from Mementos back to reality. Has it really been six months already, since everything began?

Six more months until Akira Kurusu is supposed to finish out his probation and go back home to the middle of nowhere, a quiet, biddable boy who’ll have learned his lesson one way or another. Six more months to finish changing the world. They’d better get moving.

“Look into Kazumi this afternoon,” he murmurs. The train is nearly empty at this hour, nobody there awake enough to question the two teenagers slumped tiredly in their seats or the cat riding on their lap. “We’ll have a strategy meeting for the week tonight.”

‘Got it.” Oracle nods sharply. “We’ve got work to do.”

#mc2rpg #C writes stuff #C plays persona 5

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isee-right-throughme · 7 years

Text

C’mon guys. Do better.

Look, I have been a huge fan of SNL since I was in sixth grade. I’ve rarely missed live shows since then, and I even saw it live with Bill Hader in 2014. I have bought numerous books about it and the players that come from it. One of my all-time favorite books is Darrell Hammond’s memoir. I used to say SNL was my form of church because I religiously watched it every Saturday, and I meditated on it after each episode. What was good? What was bad? What timing was off? Which jokes could I repeat to my family and they would laugh? I loved every minute of it. 2008 was a big year for SNL, and I was there to watch it all. They even had Thursday episodes because the election was so important. Their viewership skyrocketed, and suddenly, I could talk to everyone about it.

My high praise and love for the show started decreasing when Donald Trump hosted in 2015. This was before the Hollywood Access tapes were found, but this was still during his Islamophobic remarks, his overt racism of Mexicans, and the sexual assault of his ex-wife. There were many things wrong with Donald Trump at this point, but NBC loved him. Their viewership was up again! Everyone wanted to watch the celebrity monkey attempt the presidency. Hillary was gonna win, no question, so why not have the Orangutang up on stage? Maybe because he’s a terrible human being that hurt million of people with his words? Maybe because we shouldn’t have normalized hate speech and racism and discrimination and ableism? Why give him the platform? He did not run a single ad campaign. He didn’t have to. NBC gave him the time. Now, of course, SNL cannot predict the future and did not know what was to come. But maybe they shouldn’t have gone there in the first place.

I did not watch that episode. That was one of the only episodes I chose to ignore entirely and not watch any clips or listen to any sound bites the next day. I did not know what to do next. Should I continue watching my beloved show? Comedy was such an important part of my life, and I could not leave it behind. Should I forgive Lorne and everyone for allowing this racist sexist homophobic lying pig to host my favorite, beloved show?

Because I’m white and privileged, I had the advantage of being able to look past this episode. Because of my tradition and loyalty to the show, I knew I couldn’t give it up cold turkey.

And then last month Casey Affleck hosted. Again, I did not watch any clips (except for Kate McKinnon’s Love Actually as Hillary sketch because that went viral and I had to watch because I’m weak). I ignored the episode. Casey Affleck should not be normalized. The women he sexually harassed (if not assaulted) lost their jobs for speaking out, but the man who committed these crimes is going to be Oscar nominated. I was so tired of the blatant hypocrisy and sexism that run our daily lives that I started getting mad. I was mad at SNL for not holding these people accountable. In any other job title, these men would have lost their jobs (probably not because of how sexist and ridiculous society is as a whole but their actions would hold more weight in their fields). Hollywood always turns a blind eye towards sexual assault. SNL can pretend it’s avant-garde and edgy but it’s Hollywood just the same. You can make a thousand jokes about the Catholic Church covering up sexual assault of minors and child molestation, but you’re literally doing the same thing.

And then tonight, we have the beloved Aziz Ansari give a wonderful monologue about the current state of the US with some clever lines and tidbits. But then he equates Donald Trump and Chris Brown. And he’s absolutely right. People looked the other way for various reasons. For Brown it was because he was once a talented artist. He was welcomed back to award shows later and he sold albums for years after he committed a heinous crime. Donald Trump is accused of sexual assault over a dozen times, and is on tape admitting to it, and he becomes the President of the United States. So yeah, a lot of people looked away.

But then in this same episode where Ansari makes this great analogy, you have Big Sean performing. There’s no mention of his 2011 legal battle where he and another man held a 17-year-old girl against her will and sexually assaulted her. Sure, the charges were lessened when he pleaded guilty to “unlawful imprisonment.” That’s still a really big deal. And we’re all just going to forget about that? We’re all just going to let him take the stage at SNL and pretend it didn’t happen? How could you have this analogy in the monologue and then allow this man to take the stage?

But then the question becomes: where do we draw the line? How many hosts in the past have been accused of sexual assault? Domestic violence? Racism? Homophobia? Sexism?

When Andrew Dice Clay hosted in 1990, Nora Dunn told the press she was boycotting the show. Now there were some complications with this, but the female cast was hounded by calls from the public of how on earth they could support this man and stay with the show? Now, I have an affinity toward Lorne Michaels because I think he’s a comedic genius and just a genius overall, but this was all on him. He’s a show runner. He’s THE show runner. He should have taken over and had Steve or Tom come in and host that week. This was not about the women of the show taking a stand because they have contracts and this is their dream job. This is all Lorne. This is where he should have protected the cast.

He should have done that with Cheeto.

But there’s more to viewership than there is to moral conduct.

My sister is really good at cutting TV shows off when they promote something she does not like. She stopped watching Ellen (WHO CANNOT LOVE ELLEN DEGENERES?) after she had Kobe Bryant on. I agree with her boycott completely because there should have been no normalization of Kobe Bryant, especially by someone like Ellen. So my sister stopped watching her show. A devout viewer who would watch clips online and watch it every day at the gym, stopped cold turkey.

I do not have that ability. SNL has become a part of my personality. I have memorized sketches and characters’ catchphrases. Kristen Wiig and Tina Fey and Amy Poehler and Nasim Pedrad and Kate McKinnon and Leslie Jones and Bill Hader and Kenan Thompson and Colin Jost and Seth Meyers and Jimmy Fallon and Darrell Hammond and Rachel Dratch and Bobby Moynihan and Fred Armisen and Jason Sudeikas and Will Forte and Gilda Radner and Dan Ackroyd and John Belushi and Eddie Murphy and Sasheer Zamata and Aidy Bryant and Andy Samberg and Will Ferrell and Molly Shannon and David Spade and Taran Killam and Tracy Morgan and Phil Hartman are all home to me. SNL is a comfort to me. But this week I was disappointed, again.

I think it might be because I hold SNL to such a high standard. I hold it like a religion. But it’s not perfect. It has its flaws. Tonight, they had an extended joke about the FriendZone, which is literally a joke from like 2013 that has come back to haunt us, and I sat there thinking, “This is it? During one of the most tumultuous presidencies in modern times, this is what we are offering? Another sexist point of view where the ‘nice guy’ loses?” It’s tiring. It’s tiring to grow and change and not have your favorite show change with you. I sometimes think SNL and I are connected in some way, but that’s pretty big of me to claim because the show literally could survive without me. I do not contribute much to it.

Should I just continue to call them out every time they have a host like Casey Affleck or Cheeto of America? Should I stop watching entirely? Should I stop expecting so much from a weekly variety show based on a network that I’ve devoted probably a sixteenth of my life to?

An essay like this is supposed to end in some gigantic flourish where I write off stunningly and everyone is impressed with all the points I made.

But that’s not how this one will end.

Should I stop watching this show?

I don't know.

#snl #saturday night live #trump #trump snl #trump nbc #cheeto #snl big sean #big sean #casey affleck #snl casey affleck #snl aziz ansari #tw #i'm sorry this is so long

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