#do not take this for proper criticism im just complaining about something not meeting my expectations

[transflynnscifo]

i dont think ive been as whiplashed by something like i had been over reading a little bit of novectable's seventh lair. i remember getting it nearly a year ago because it was on sale. had no idea what it was about besides that it was an april fools joke with the fata morgana characters

i thought at the time "ok. based on vague info and without trying to spoil myself, people seem to be loving it. and i do miss fata morgana sometimes. why not!"

then i was barely able to sit through about one hour of the vn before i completely gave up lol. it felt exhausting to read, it felt off. i initially paused it thinking "ill try to get back to it later" but unlike the instances where im reading/playing smth decent and i forget to come back to it because life happens too much, i just did not feel compelled to even Try to return to it

for one, the humor from what little i witnessed was especially a huge miss for me. it felt like an ideal instance of when a creator/writer/artist decides to throw the characters and initial story they made in the trash by creating a caricature of it. and it just rung really hollow for me

a negative review i found had noted that part of their displeasure over the experience was that the translation really made the characters sound "robotic" and that its still Somewhat better in japanese. i cant confirm this sadly but at the time of reading the review i found myself thinking "that could explain why it felt off". and under normal circumstances i would have gone digging in the japanese script to compare tidbits and come to my own conclusion but frankly i did not and still do not care enough to do that in this case

i think the particularly bumming part for me is that while fatamoru has its issues and flaws, it was still a meaningful read for me a lot of years ago. i guess if i really wanted to revisit it i just have to stick with going through the original and frankly i havent been in the mindset where i could bring myself to revisit it fully yet

(come to think of it, i never finished requiem for innocence either but every time i remember the point at which i stopped reading the main story, i think "im not missing out on much. im good")

[nu-metal-generation]

i’m super aware of and interested in genre classifications in music, even though i know they dont have any real bearing on anything. as such, ive noticed a LOT of bands that get referred to as nu metal when in reality they are of some adjacent genre, so im gonna explain some shit bc i can and bc im in special interest limbo.

1. What makes a band nu metal?

Obviously this is up for debate, seeing as how any genre is only defined by the loose boundaries set for it by listeners and critics. However, the criteria I would use to determine would boil down to the following: Heaviness, aggression, and Groove™. But there are lots of bands I see referred to (and even bands widely accepted) as nu metal that do not meet this criteria. It’s worth noting that this is only the stuff that I would consider “true” nu metal, and there’s plenty of this nu-adjacent stuff that I would classify as part of the genre in passing.

2. Examples

Look at my avi. I adore Linkin Park with my entire heart. However. I would not at all consider them true nu metal. They are probably one of the most famous examples used of a nu metal band, but I don’t believe this claim to be legitimate. You see, despite their fortitude in the aggression department, they’re in one of the several grey areas between the genre and its surrounding genres. LP is a rap rock band, and most hard rock or metal bands that employ rapping end up receiving the nu metal label at some point or another. But rap does not equal Groove™. It can serve as the groove, or it can supplement it in some way, but they are not equivalent. By and large, LP doesn’t have that groove in their sound on their albums that get classified as nu metal (HT, THP, Meteora) and the albums where they do find a groove (ATS, HT EP) are not heavy enough to warrant a nu metal label. Again, this isn’t a bad thing, I wouldn’t change a thing about these records. I’m just stating some observations.

Another grey area I see a lot is alternative metal/post-grunge. This is best encapsulated with bands like Staind. While I would maybe concede that a song like Mudshovel could probably be considered a nu metal track, what I’ve heard from Staind on the whole is post-grunge with not a lot of nu metal going on. Once again, they don’t have the Groove™. They also often don’t have the high-speed, breakneck aggression that you get from proper nu metal bands.

Industrial tends to exhibit this as well. I would absolutely not consider Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, or Nine Inch Nails nu metal in any regard, but I’ve seen that happen. I think this is purely through association bc of bands like Static-X, Spineshank, and Dope who are nu metal and also industrial bands.

Yet another would be funk rock. This is a bit more niche than the last two, but I often see people referring to the likes of Red Hot Chili Peppers as “proto-nu metal” and while I can’t really dispute that too much, I don’t think it’s a super accurate term. “Proto” implies that it’s basically the thing you’re applying the prefix to, just not quite developed. For example, the Stooges are called proto-punk because they were almost punk rock, but punk hadn’t quite developed yet, and so the Stooges helped tip the scales to allow punk to be created. Similarly, I could understand something like Rage Against The Machine being described as proto-nu metal, but I often see it applied to bands like the Chilies that don’t line up quite as well (pls don’t interpret this as me ranting or complaining, again I’m just dumping some observations I’ve made).

I’m also gonna take a sec to talk about some outlier bands. First, Crazy Town, who baffle me. I don’t know how anybody considers them nu metal. In fairness, I only know them by their one huge song, so maybe I missed something, but Butterfly is a rap rock song and that’s it. No nu, no metal. Idk. Just weird. Second, Evanescence, which I understand. Bring Me To Life features those rap vocals that make everybody think Ev is a nu metal band, but they don’t check any of my boxes. They’re not particularly aggressive in sound, not extraordinarily heavy, and definitely don’t have the groove. Thirdly, and this is a big one, Bring Me The Horizon. ?!?! What?? If you’ve listened to wonderful life and nothing else, maybe, but people have been saying that since That’s The Spirit which is not in any way a nu metal album. I think what happens a lot is that since nu metal is likely the most expansive and well-known forms of alt metal, it gets substituted as though they’re synonyms, but the only thing remotely nu metal about TTS is Oli’s vocals being reminiscent of Chester B’s. But the same could be said for Sempiternal, and noone calls that nu metal in any regard! Mind-boggling to me, but if anyone has answers pls explain it to me.

Now to my favourite thing... 3. Categories

also im just doing some of the biggest bands bc those are the most familiar ones

Actual nu metal bands (according to me): Korn (duh), Slipknot, System Of A Down, Mudvayne, Disturbed, Kittie.

Rap rock/Rap metal that is also nu metal: Limp Bizkit, Ill Niño, Vanilla Ice (yeah he’s made nu metal if you didnt know).

Industrial metal that is also nu metal: Dope, Static-X, Spineshank, Powerman 5000.

Rap rock/rap metal that is not true nu metal: Linkin Park, Crazy Town, Papa Roach (debatable)

Alt metal/Post-grunge that is not nu metal: Staind, Three Days Grace, Hoobastank, Breaking Benjamin.

“Proto” shit: RATM, Sugar Ray, Faith No More.

???: Evanescence, Crazy Town, Bring Me The Horizon.

Nu metalcore/nu metal revival: Cane Hill, Wage War (debatable), Demon Hunter, King 810.

[taexual]

HOLIC - 8 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: some strong language + angst

words: 3.1k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

          prev / next

Work was awful. It tended to be this way on Tuesdays because that was usually the day when so-called high-class socialites swarmed to art galleries to purchase pieces that’d make their guests think they knew anything about art, and, on top of that, crowds of artists and photographers gathered here, trying to get meetings with every possible staff member, wanting their work exhibited here. But today was bad even by those standards.

At first, the iPad you usually used stopped working. You were informed that they were doing maintenance on the servers today but you didn’t expect the entire system to crash on you just when a particularly pompous woman asked you for more information about one of the photographers whose works she’d enjoyed at the exhibition last week.

You told her the name but she wanted more details that you couldn’t provide her with because no matter what you pressed on the damn tablet, it would only display errors.

“I’m very sorry,” you said, feeling cold sweat wash over you. An epic escalation was awaiting, you could feel it. “We’re having some technical difficulties today, if you could just wait a moment, I—”

“I think I’ve waited enough,” she responded in a thundering voice that almost made you flinch. “I came to an art gallery to buy something from you, did I not? Why am I being forced to wait when I’m not even sure I want to invest in this… artwork, at all.”

Already having learned to be patient with similar snobby attitudes, you gave her an apologetic smile.

“My apologies, ma’am, this should be fixed soon and then I can answer all questions you might have about the photographer,” you said and then tried to get rid of her by sending her to a floor you didn’t work at, “in the meanwhile, could I interest you in the photography exhibition on the second floor? The theme is—”

“I could not care less,” she cut you off again. You understood her irritation so you could forgive her for not really listening to you, but, Jesus Christ, did she have to yell? Her loud voice echoed all through the gallery. “Find me someone who can answer my questions immediately. Or better yet, find me the manager. I refuse to be treated with disrespect by incompetent staff members.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you said, hating the endless apologies that passed your lips. You wondered if she could tell they were fake. “My manager is the owner of the gallery and he is, unfortunately, away on a business trip. I can direct you to my supervisor, though, if you’d like.”

“You better do that,” she responded, crossing her arms over her chest and nearly scratching herself with the huge, sharp-edged rings on all of her fingers. “And don’t give me attitude. I will not tolerate that.”

You didn’t realize that explaining the hierarchy of the gallery – since she was so eager to talk to someone higher up – was a form of giving her attitude, but, for the sake of not getting kicked out for bad customer service, you nodded wordlessly and guided her across the gallery to where Eva, your supervisor, was having a conversation with one of the new photographers, whose exhibition the gallery was preparing for.

“Eva,” you said, not bothering to address her in a formal way. She wasn’t much older than you and the two of you spent so much time together at work that neither of you bothered with the formalities anymore. “There’s a snobby woman ten steps behind me. She is a nightmare. The system crashed, so I can’t help her, and now she wants to talk to you.”

Eva bit her lip, not particularly happy to be dragged away from the photographer – you tried to get a look at him, but he had turned away, watching the paintings around him instead, while he waited for Eva to give him her attention again.

“Could you keep her occupied for just one moment?” she asked. “I’ll be with her in a second. I’m kind of busy right now.”

“She is a nightmare,” you repeated, emphasizing the word for more effect. “I’m sure she’ll sue us if we don’t accommodate to her wishes right away.”

Eva groaned.

“I swear this is the tenth time this had happened in the past few weeks,” she said, after excusing herself from the photographer, who – aside from being very attractive – was a lot kinder than the snotty, problematic woman. “It’s time the staff here grew some balls. You, included, by the way. It would really take some weight off my shoulders if you just found a way to deal with her without getting me involved.”

Eva – probably – didn’t mean it personally but you took offense. You couldn’t exactly intimidate the woman with your status in the gallery and she wasn’t listening to anything you tried to tell her. On top of that, her loud voice truly gave you the chills. You felt bad for her children if she had any.

Confused what to do with yourself now that you were subtly scolded, you glanced at the photographer next to you, nodded at him as a way to excuse yourself as well – Eva hadn’t asked you to keep him company, after all, and you really wanted to get out of here, anyway – and then headed to the staff room to finally inhale.

The system still wasn’t fixed when your workday came to an end and you were forced to stay up later to help the IT team test out the updates they’d attempted to install after finishing with the maintenance. They had you walk around the gallery and scan the names of the photographs and the paintings while they checked if the system recognized the names and provided the user of the program with all the information about the artwork possible.

You knew this would make your job easier in the long run, but you were completely not in the mood to spend the whole night at the gallery, hence all of the complaining the IT team had to endure from you – they got their revenge on you by constantly criticizing the way you used the tablet, though, and that didn’t really help your self-esteem.

You ended up getting home three hours later than usual and, naturally, feeling three times more exhausted and upset than usual, too. To be honest, you just wanted to jump into the shower – which, you weren’t sure if you’d even enjoy – and then go to sleep. But, aside from not knowing if the hot water was back or not – Jaebum was on the phone with someone when you got home and you haven’t parted on a good note anyway, so you didn’t ask – you also realized you had no idea if the sheets on the mattress in your room were fresh or not. You had initially planned to sleep here because you weren’t in the mood to spend another night in Jaebum’s room, no matter how comfortable his bed was, but he did have sex here last night.

Groaning because you just couldn’t relax today, you walked out of the bedroom and saw Jaebum walking out of his at the same time.

“Did you change the—”

“I called the—”

Both of you had started to talk at the same time and both stopped, watching each other for a moment or two.

“You go,” you told him then. If he had something offensive to say to you, you’d rather get it over with faster so you could spend the rest of the night sulking. You’d planned to do that anyway.

“I, uh, I called the maintenance,” he said. “They said they’ll be here on Friday at best but Monday for sure.”

You closed your eyes. “That’s next week.”

“I know,” Jaebum said. When you opened your eyes, you saw him bite his lip while avoiding your gaze.

God, you could feel an outburst coming but you made no attempts to stop it. Maybe a part of you thought he deserved to hear it after being the cause of your inner misery ever since you moved in here.

“I’ve never had a roommate before,” you said and waited until he dared to look you in the eyes. “But, I swear, you are the worst imaginable roommate in the world.”

“W-wh—”

“You shut the fucking hot water off! And why? To get back at me for getting your water bottles out of the fridge,” you were louder now. “Well, guess fucking what? You can fix the damage I’ve done within an hour the most – your stupid water can get cold again. But you—you do shit without thinking about the consequences, you broke my—”

“I let you sleep in my room!” Jaebum cut you off, your aggression brushing off on him as he threw his hands in the air. “I tried to make it up to you for that.”

“I left you no choice the first night,” you disagreed. “And it doesn’t even matter. Does it look like I want to sleep in your room? I’m sort of left with no other option since I still don’t have a proper bed.”

He was going to object – the first syllables of his counter-argument were already at the tip of his tongue – but then you pushed past him into his bedroom. There was no point in asking him if he’d changed the sheets of your bed. You weren’t going to sleep there.

“But since you’re obviously so kind to me,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder one more time. “I’ll be sleeping here again.”

He was taken aback for a moment after you slammed the door of his bedroom in his face – if he wasn’t so angry, he’d have admitted: this was a real power move – but then he tried knocking. Gently at first, but harsher after you didn’t react and didn’t open the door.

“Jesus, I’ll fix your damn bed!” he yelled at you through the door. “Just lose the fucking attitude and talk to me like a normal person. I was trying to be nice to you.”

The attitude, again. First, the rich, snobby bitch at the gallery insisted you gave her attitude for just doing your job. Then Eva countered by saying you don’t even have an attitude at all, or else she wouldn’t have to do your job for you. And now Jaebum was accusing you of the same thing even though you just told him the truth; not in a particularly nice way, but you had to put it out there.

After you simmered down, though, –  while staring at the books piled by the wall in front of Jaebum’s bed for a whole hour, – you realized that if you hadn’t let the comments made at work get to you this badly, you wouldn’t have bitten Jaebum’s head off. Maybe he deserved that for all of the snarky comments he’d said and the things he’d done, but he was truly trying to have a normal conversation with you today, so maybe you should have been more understanding.

Sure, you’ve argued with him this morning – it got kind of bad, really – but you were still forced to live him and being civil with each other would have surely made this experience appear less like a torture.

Or maybe, another part of your brain disagreed, you should have truly let him know that he was not going to get away with everything by just being nice to you. Maybe you should have slapped him, too, for more effect.

As two sides of your brain gnawed at each other, arguing about what you should have done and said, you heard another knock on the door of the bedroom. It didn’t take a genius to guess who was behind the door, but you still hesitated before opening it because you weren’t sure how to act.

You did feel guilty about the outburst in the hallway. You’d always been a firm believer that the best way to resolve any issue was to have a calm discussion about it; it’s just that sometimes, you acted before you allowed yourself to think.

Maybe you’d feel better with yourself if you didn’t yell at Jaebum after you opened the door. So, you just stared at him.

He stared back, truly having expected you to scream at him. He had prepared what to say to you but he forgot all of that when you just looked at him, no words leaving your lips.

“Uh…” he said, lifting the plate in his hands slightly. “I brought cupcakes.”

Not having expected that – the two of you were now, clearly, involved in a wordless fight which one could surprise the other one better, – you looked down at the chocolate treats on the plate in his hands. “So you have. Are those the ones Lily brought over?”

You had moved away from the door slightly – Jaebum wasn’t sure if you did that consciously, though – and he slipped into the room. After you didn’t object against him being in your personal space – even though, technically, this room was his – he nodded with a small smile.

“I hadn’t slept with her when she brought them, though,” he said, putting the plate on the bed and sitting down next to it. “So, I’m sure they’re not poisoned.”

You let out a sound that was a mix between a sigh and a chuckle and sat down on the other side of the plate. You didn’t feel like talking about the way he’d handled everything with Lily. Actually, you couldn’t even remember why you were so upset about it, in the first place. Jaebum and Lily’s relationship – or lack thereof – wasn’t really your business. Maybe you’d allowed your personal feelings to get in the way and that’s why you yelled at him this morning. And this afternoon.

Both of you took a cupcake off the plate each and, after unwrapping it, began to eat. You stayed quiet for the most part, but when the cupcakes were halfway finished, you sighed again.

“Sorry for bursting out like that when I got home,” you said, choosing to only apologize for the most recent fight. A small part of you still considered Jaebum worthy of the harsh words you’ve said to him after Lily had left. “I had a long day at work.”

Jaebum nodded as a way of accepting your apology but didn’t make a big deal out of it, asking instead, “what happened?”

“It wasn’t… I guess it wasn’t truly horrible,” you said. “I’m just sensitive to that sort of stuff, maybe. I can’t be myself when I work – I’m not sure anyone can – so that means I can’t stand up for myself, either. I just have to let the visitors and even my superiors walk over me.”

“Yeah, that sucks,” Jaebum nodded. “You have to put up with every degrading thing they say if you want to keep the job.”

“Exactly.”

“I laughed mid-track at my station today,” he said then and you looked at him, curiously. “I didn’t realize the mic was on when I was reading a text on my phone during one of the songs, and I just burst into laughter before a part of me went, oh, but wait… I don’t remember pressing the button.”

You tried to gasp but just the image he put in your mind made you chuckle. “Did you boss realize?”

“No, he wasn’t working today, thank God,” he said, smiling, too, now that this got you to laugh however softly. “I would have been fired for sure. He’s a no-bullshit sort of fellow.”

“I’d have loved to hear that, though,” you said. “What time is your show?”

You already knew Jaebum worked at a radio station because he’d mentioned that during one of your late-night conversations back when you still thought he was a girl, and he thought you were a guy. He never elaborated much – and you didn’t really push – so you found yourself rather excited to find out a little more about him. He was starting to feel like Def to you again.

“Two to four,” he said, explaining why he was still at home most mornings. “It’s this really uncomfortable time because most people are already done with lunch but not done with their work day yet, so no one really listens to the radio at this time.”

“What do you do there?” you asked. “I mean, what is your show about?”

“Up-and-coming artists,” he said, sounding unusually sad. “They’re not really that, though. I just basically play underrated songs that no one knows. People send them to me – well, not to me, personally, but to the radio station – and I pick the ones I like the most and play them. It takes me a while to get through all the Soundcloud mixtapes we get sent, but I don’t mind. I don’t get to talk a lot during the show.”

“I can imagine how many days you make by doing this,” you said and Jaebum gave you a confused look, so you explained, “well, I think when someone hears their song on an actual radio, they really lose their shit, you know what I mean? It doesn’t matter to them what time the radio show is on. They’re just excited to hear their song playing and they’re probably very grateful to whoever chose it. You’re the reason for their happiness.”

“Huh,” Jaebum looked away from you, a slight rosy shade adorning his cheeks. “I-I forget that sometimes. The job—it’s all mechanical. I listen to music without thinking much of the artist, but you know what? You’re right. If it was my song playing there, I’d be losing my shit as you put it.”

You snickered at that but then an idea hit you. “Why don’t you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Play your own song at the radio,” you said, reminding him – and yourself, too – that the two of you knew more about each other than you had pretended to know for the sake of acting as hateful roommates to each other. You weren’t really complete strangers to each other, after all.

“Oh, man, no,” he shook his head, his eyes scanning the room wildly for a way to change the topic. He was like this when it came to his music. He refused to talk about it overly much over texts but he was even worse in real life. “Anyway, I came here to make amends and maybe make you feel better about your day at work. Shocking, yeah? But, look what happened: it’s you comforting me.”

You laughed. “Get out of my room before we actually bond.”

He laughed at this, too, but then stopped, “oh, well, technically, this is my room.”

“Oh, I’m not going back to sleep in my room,” you said. “You had sex there, that mattress is… marked.”

“Oh, God,” he visibly cringed at your choice of wording. “I changed the sheets, I’m not some animal.”

You chuckled, but your mind was starting to wander. Now that you’d finished eating Lily’s cupcakes and the topic switched to Jaebum and Lily’s previous activities, you couldn’t help but remember Jaebum’s scared face when you told him a girl had been knocking on your door.

And then, before you could think twice about it, you asked, “hey. Remember, the other day, when Lily first came over?”

“Yeah?”

“When I told you that there was a girl behind the door, your face kind of…” you couldn’t find a way to describe it properly but Jaebum seemed to understand what you were getting at as he looked away, his face paling slightly again. “Uh, what was that about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s nothing,” he tried to dismiss it. “I just… for a moment, I thought it could have been my ex-girlfriend. She’d reached out to me recently but I didn’t reply and I thought she might have found where I lived.”

Oh, this was loaded. You didn’t know Jaebum had a clearly problematic ex, but, more than that, you had no idea she was trying to get back together with him and he was, evidently, terrified of that. There was so much you wanted to ask him but before you opened your mouth, he stood up from the bed, taking the empty plate with him.

“Anyway,” he said in a somewhat forceful way as if he was letting you know that you weren’t going to discuss this topic further. “I’m going to go to bed. Well, your bed. You sleep here.”

You tried to smile despite the change of topic. “You don’t mind that?”

“No,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I don’t.”

         chapter directory

[kitanoko]

`Snow White Au 

todomomo week day 1: Kiss (pretend that todoroki got his red hair from someone else other than endeavor pls…and this is totally not like the original snow white im sorry LOL)

LETS BEGIN THIS JOYOUS WEEEEEK~

genre: humour and fluff

-todoroki was a prince of an ancient land where his mother remarried a man so vile and cruel that todo and his siblings wanted nothing to do with him. His name was Endeavor.

-Now Endeavor wasn’t a bad looking dude but he was clearly jealous of todoroki’s good looks so he asked his magic mirror “mirror, mirror in my hand, who’s the fairest in the land” and the mirror replied “Todoroki Shouto” 

-For once, the mirror answered with someone other than him?!?!?! this was blasphemous! And so, Endeavor was forced to order an assassination of his own step-son. He was NOT going to lose to some kid!

-At the young age of 18, Todo was fleeing for his life after Fuyumi had warned of him of the dangers that were to come. Fuyumi had suspected something was up when she had accidentally bumped into her stepfather’s meeting with two mysterious beings. Her suspicions were proven correct when she had heard him say ‘kill shouto’ as if it was the most normal thing in the world

-Todo thought his sis was joking at first ‘cas are you serious, a grown ass man feeling threatened because of his appearance? Though when he escaped death by a hair when the two assassins came at him at full speed during his hunting trip, he was 100% sure Fuyumi was speaking the truth. Todoroki held his own and was able to knock one of them out instead of fatally wounding him, the other, seeing Todoroki’s kindness towards his partner decides to spare is life. The assassin handed Endeavor the lungs and heart of a wild boar, claiming it to be his stepson’s organs and fools the King. 

-Todoroki galloped with his bags towards the river and found an empty cottage completed with 7 small beds. He found it odd but shrugged, leaving his bag on the floor and horse outside as he fell asleep on the bed labelled ‘grumpy’. 

-the 7 dwarfs came home and freaked out! Who the heck was this dude with such weird hair?! And why was there a horse?! 

-”What the actual fuck?,” Grumpy yelled and Sleepy yawned while mumbling, “what a banquet of darkness.” Grumpy’s anger woke Todo up and he flinched at the sight of the 7 mini people adorned with cute ruby red triangular hats

-Btw if it isn’t obvious enough, bakugou is grumpy, and tokoyami is sleepy. Then, iida is doc, yaoyorozu is happy, haha just kidding, uraraka is happy, deku is bashful, tsuyu is sneezy, and kaminari is dopey

-”Whoa what the–” Todoroki sat upright and almost kneed Bashful in the face. Bashful noticed the prince’s beautiful eyes and turned away shyly. Grumpy snorted.

“Who the motherfuck are you?! Get off my damn bed you dirty piece of shit!” Grumpy kicked Todo on the shin. Todo almost chuckled ‘cas it felt like a tickle.

“I’m the prince, or …was…” 

Everyone gasped. 

Doc pushed Grumpy aside. “Your royal highness, why are you in our abode if I may ask.”

“My father tried to kill me, I just need a place to stay for now.”

The dwarfs looked at each other in concern and huddled up. 

“This may be dangerous …for us.” Dopey said and Sneezy nodded after a few sneezes. Grumpy gritted his teeth and agreed silently, which was unusual for him. Perhaps he felt bad that he overreacted earlier. Doc gave a sigh.

“I think we should help him, we should be helping those in need.” Doc said and it was Happy and Bashful’s turn to agree.

“Fine,” Doc turned to say and Todoroki smiled back. Happy clicked her tongue playfully and lifted herself right next to him. She directed a bright grin at him and he appreciated it. 

-After that todo slowly warmed up to the little dudes and grumpy sorta tried to return the affection. They give awkward glances to each other sometimes when they go fishing (grumpy gives todo advice on how to catch the biggest salmon and that’s the limit to their friendship)

-todo learned that happy enjoys playing catch and she told him that she wants to learn how to fly someday (todo didn’t wanna break it to her but that’s not how the human body works)

-Doc is the smartest of them all and the most reasonable; dopey enjoys daydreaming and cloud watching; bashful is…well…very cute and shy and seems to be the only one who can control grumpy somewhat; sneezy is really good at swimming and can hold her breath underwater for a very long time, so long that todo thought she drowned but she didn’t; sleepy is very poetic and extremely philosophical and todoroki would never know how to have a proper conversation with him….not that he usually could with any of them anyway…and why the heck does sleepy look like a crow and sneezy a frog…strange

-Todo built his own bed with the help of the dwarfs and Grumpy labelled the bed “Weirdo”

-Its been more than 2 weeks and todoroki felt like for once, he could live in peace. He went out to hunt by himself one day, despite the concern of the dwarfs (grumpy was like who the fuck cares if he gets himself killed we’ll all be free, but he didn’t really mean it LOL), and he went further than he had planned (he wasn’t gonna let that deer escape!)

-right before he sent an arrow flying towards the poor deer, he caught sight of… a human nearby? in the middle of these woods? He followed the swift silhouette with a stern gaze and he leapt off his horse (his horse is named Pretty Peach btw, a name given by Fuyumi, ‘cas it has a strawberry blonde mane). 

-”Who’s there?” Todoroki called, hands gripped tightly on his bow. If its another assassin, he may not be as kind this time. “Is it a hobby of yours to hide behind trees? Come out or I’ll shoot.” 

-The figure emerged and …hell no. It’s of course the most elegant woman he had ever laid his heterochromatic eyes on. How was he gonna kill her now?

-”I’m..I’m just a guard! My name’s Momo!” She replied, hand in front of her defensively, “I mean you no harm!” Seeing that her hands were away from the hilt of her fachion, he relaxed.

-Todoroki patiently waited for her explanation and turns out she was just intrigued by his hunting skills and wanted to learn for herself. 

“Not that I could ever hurt these animals,” she confessed and the deer licked her outreached palm. It fled after. 

-So anyways, after that mostly-silent encounter, todoroki met her a few more times and brought the dwarfs along with him; she came whenever she had a break from guarding whoever the nobility was from the next kingdom

-She was like those disney princesses that has a bunch of animal friends for no apparent reason but of course she was no damsel-in-distress ‘cas she could slice anything in half without a blink. Todo actually somewhat scared of her. Or he’s fallen in love. He shook his head. Nah, no way. Those goosebumps he gets when he sees her swing her falchion was ‘cas its cold. That must be it.

-Doc raised his concern over other ppl spotting Todo if he goes off too far and yes it actually happens ‘cas todo was too into his new ‘friendship’ with momo and a spy told Endeavor his discoveries. 

-one day when todo and momo met up again, this time to string necklaces out of wildflowers because momo wanted to do something different for once (Grumpy knew todoroki was crushing hard on momo at this point but todo was too damn clueless to do anything about it), they get ambushed by a group of mercenaries hired by Endeavor 

-momo surprised todo ‘cas she basically told him to sit still and she owns all of their asses single-handed and todo gulped. yes. okay. his heart was racing but not because they were about to get killed but ‘cas he’s fallen hard and fast for this crazy fighter girl with a big ass sword.

-”I can’t believe they RUINED my necklaces, look at these daisies?! They’re trampled! UGH!” Momo complained, fists clenched as they head back to the cottage. 

Todo snorted.

“AND your FATHER sent them to kill you? How absurd!” 

She went on and on and todoroki’s just chucklng at her flushed face from the battle earlier. 

“The next time I see your father, he will feel my wrath!” 

Todo stopped dead in his tracks and pulled her to him with one hand and awkwardly said, “You’re really cute Momo.”

And her face gets even more red and she just stopped talking on the rest of the way home.

-Okay so news get back to Endeavor that the mercenaries pretty much all in critical condition. “An insanely skilled lady” was with todo and Endeavor’s like “alright I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

-Endeavor dressed up as a witch (he gotta disguise himself ‘cas it’d be weird if people saw a King out by himself and somehow dressing as a witch felt right) and went to the forest and also brought a box of poisoned soba along ‘cas his stepson loves soba. Hopefully this mysterious lady with him also loves soba

-Endeavor found the dwarfs’ cottage and left the box at the doorstep (yes he knew todo lived there ‘cas the spy had tipped him). Endeavor hid behind a bush and saw Dopey bring the box inside the cottage and he smirked

-”Yo these noodles don’t look right.” Grumpy pushed the box away from his face and Dopey looked sad. “I ain’t eating this shit, someone try it first in case I die. I’m too cool to die.”

“Grump-chan please don’t say that,” Bashful said.

Todoroki looked at it and Momo swore his eyes lit up.

“Soba, it’s good,” Todo merely said and he took the chopstick that came in the box and took a bite.

Oh shit.

“Fuck, his face doesn’t look right. And I mean it looks even more messed up than before,” Grumpy said.

Todoroki felt the world spin before him and he just collapsed onto the floor. Momo freaked out but found his pulse and his breathing steady.

“He looks like he’s taking a nap…” Sleepy noted.

“Don’t say it…”

“…Of darkness,” Sleepy finished.

-Momo lifted Todo onto the nearest bed and Doc examined todo and doc’s like “I think he’s in a coma”

-Now a week passed but todo still didn’t wake up. Momo said she’ll find a doctor to come and see what to do. The doctor refused to go to the forest with Momo ‘cas that sounded sketch

-Momo came back defeated and Bashful randomly went, “hey…have you ever read those…children’s books?”

Momo’s like “what?” And Bashful’s like “most stories say curses are broken by a kiss from true love!”

Everyone looked at each other and Grumpy’s like “well no shit you have to be the one to kiss him, I ain’t doing it.” 

“But why me?” Momo asked and Grumpy told her how he suspected that there’s something way deeper than friendship going on between them and Momo got all flustered and she felt it too but it was hard admitting it.

“Don’t kiss him on the lips though,” Doc said matter-of-factly, “what if you got poisoned too.”

Happy and Bashful covered their faces, feeling embarassed for Momo

-She leaned closer to todo, and he appeared so peaceful sleeping like that and she was starting to feel her cheeks heat up. This was her first time kissing anyone! Ever! The distance between them close in and Momo gave him a peck on the cheek. Suddenly, Todo’s eyelids fluttered open.

-”Why is everyone –OMPHF” 

Momo wrapped herself around him before he could finish the question

-Momo was really angry now, whoever this person was, she’s guessing todo’s douchebag father, gotta pay for what he did. She devised a plan. Todo told her the plan was too dangerous but she reassured him that she had thought of plan B to Z if plan A didn’t work out.

-Momo went to the castle dressed as a man the day after, and acted as if she had an important tip to tell the King in regards to the prince

-Okay Fuyumi’s like wtf right now btw ‘cas her brother just escaped death three times?

-Momo told Endeavor to follow her to the forest because she saw the prince still alive. Endeavor’s knights said they’d go with him but he had had enough of failed plans. Even the soba didn’t work goddammit

-Endeavor was weary but Momo was so good at acting; she led him towards a trap built by the dwarfs and Endeavor’s horse gets caught in a bear trap. The King fell to his knees as his horse crashed onto the ground. And with a broken ankle, he tried to stand back up but Momo held a sword against his neck 

Endeavor was named one of the most powerful men for a reason. He knocked her back and sent Momo flying. Todo and the dwarfs saw this from behind the trees and they run to help her.

-”What…Shouto…you became friends with these midgets?!” Endeavor roared. 

The dwarfs took offence to that and they kept throwing rocks at him and Grumpy headbutts him and stomped on his broken ankle. The King winced in pain and with the help of Todo, the dwarfs somehow cornered him to the cliffs. With one false step, the King slipped and fell to the depths below

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.” 

Todoroki heard his father’s screams echo. 

-Though that was a horrid end to his filthy father, Todoroki was happy as now his family was free from his evil reign. Todo returned to the castle but still visited the dwarfs every week. 

Momo was invited to the castle from time to time and Todo finally proposed to her with flower necklaces that she taught him to make before; the dwarfs helped them set up a wedding ceremony in the meadows and all of Momo’s animal friends came as well.

The end

[ramblingsandruminations]

When Suicidal Ideation is the norm

All the help in the world becomes a muddy puddle of shitty affirmations, thorned gaslighting, and useless guilt. If one more person tells me "have you tried yoga/deepbreaths/vitamin B..." Ugh. Who am i kidding? This is tumblr, where you can always find somone who says exactly what you are thinking ( #omgmetho #datme #meirl ). Weve all heard the "stop giving advice and atart taking it " speech, we're all likely to have read some post about the "evils" and " abuses" of therapy and inpatient treatment, and I'll bet a paper hat, some vending machine doodad, or some shitty-yet-adorably-hipsterly prize that within 100 reblogs someone links to some news article about "Queer Youth Completes Suicide And We Think You Will Pay Us to Feel Bad About It, Don't Forget To Like, Share, and Subscribe to Trevor Project, Your Reblog Will Save A Life (And Keep Us Relevant For Our Advertisers)." Tomorrow(well, next daylight hours) my 26-year-old depressed college freshman self is going to walk into my schools coubseling office and tell them i never recieved the location for the therapist they reffered me to (true story--Honestly not avoiding treatmwnt, even if it is useless) and request a second referral. Ill sit through some lecture about self-advocacy veiled in "concerned questions" and once again be misgendered, deadnamed, and criticized for giving a fuck (note: commenters looking to describe me with the word "cuck," i see you there, good for you, let me know how that white kkknight holier than thou red pill rage fest dopamine addiction is filling the gaping void of existential dread within you). After that, there is always a small chance they'll see just how depressed i am, and faster than you can say "looney is a word based in misogynistic beliefs of womens mental health and menstrual cycles being unhealthily and unscientifically connected to the moon," ill be fielding questions which boil down to "do you want to kill yourself" and "do you have a plan." By this time in my life, i've gotten pretty used to BSing my way around psychology. All it really takes is knowing that all they can take you on is your word, and nothing else. "Do you want to kill yourself?" they ask, and i reply "*short pause, heavy, short exhale denoting weight and truth* Well, yeah. But quite frankly, suicidal ideation is a part of my everyday life- nothing i do isn't plagued with some form of "i should wrap this mouse cord aroubd my neck and die" or " i wonder if that branch is strong enough to support my weight" or "man, my head hurts, but i bet a bottle or two of ibuprofen could make it stop." For me, its not a question of wanting to die, its a matter of what do i have to live for, and ive been through enough inpatient DBT and group therapy to help me cope, using breathing techniques and self-care tips to push me through the worst of it." This is usually if not always all they need to hear. Sure, im depressed, but anything they could tell me is something i know and am already doing-i sound to them more like a patient leaving inpatient than one entering it. Our hospitals are overfilled, understaffed, prqctucally unfunded; if im "stable" im staying out of their ledger book. Occasionally, they still worry, having one of those "consciences" their peers claim to have lost when a schizophrenic patient tried to bite their ear off, and ask a follow up "but are you sure? You seem distressed, and if you need some help, we are here for you," to which all i have to do is look at them through sad, but strong eyes and say "Thank you, but i have a great support network of friends and of course, my boyfriend. He's fantastic, and one of the most important things to have happened to me. He keeps me on this side of the dirt." A small tired chuckle, and their focus diverts towards affirmations of how good it is to have support, their therapy brains running on autopilot. Then all it needs is some "active" listening, uh-huhs, and compliant assurance that ill keep working on myself to assuage them of any guilt or corncern. Maybe, though, ill tell them the truth, and let them take me in. Three hots and a cot, after all. I'll fight through my dysphoria as they ogle every nook and cranny of my malformed body trying to see if im hiding a weapon or some drugs; I'll continue to insist on a private room and remind them calmly yet firmly that no, i will *not* room with a male, and their lack of knowledge on how to treat a transgender non-binary patient is well behind on proper treatment according to WPATH, the APA, and our state govt. When i get a room, theyll say that i should take as much time as i need to get acclimated, and not worry about what the rwat of group is qorking on, and then contradict themselves within 5 minutes and say i need to go to group, theyre waiting on me. In my fresh new scrubs, ill walk in and within seconds, ill identify how th staff monitors who came in when (usually different colored scrubs based on different halves of the week, and of course, anyone likely to leave within 48 hours wearing "normal" clothes), and see the therapist or doctor talking about emotional management techniques. When i sit down, eeyes will be on me, some with looks of angey jusgemwnt, some with awe and wonder: what could THEY be in for? The group leader will ask me my name, ill state it and my pronouns (to several uncomfortable shifts in the room), and theyll let me know what they were talking about. Ill make a good effort to participate, play along, etc. Someone in the group will be desperate to control the conversation, talking more and more as if this entire experience is just for them- another person will be too dissociated to say anyrhing, despite the doctors attebpts to get them to open up. Already, the cliques will become apparent; humans are aocial creatures, after all. When we leave for the next scheduled activity (either rec or lunch, depending on the time) the docs will be watching me- im on suicide watch, and they expe t me to jump out a window or try and slit my wrists with a paperclip or something. Im not a danger in this regard; ive been threatened with solitary and ECT if i dont comply before- i am their prisoner and i must comply. Within an hour or two of being there, ill be able to notice how well funded they are (or more likely, arent.) The quality of their reading materials; the availability of puzzles abd how well taken care of they appear. Recreation will be the most bare of kindergarden activities; coloring books, maybe a tv with basic cable. A daycare for adults, abd not the cool buzzfeed articles. Someone, probably an addict, will be trying to fanangle their attendee into giving them special treatement- a snack, or an extra smoke break. I'll be sitting in a corner, smirking- the staff arent even an eigth as dumb as this person thinks, and they've seen this type before. They might get something, but itll cost them sour looks from staff and less accommodating treatment with the doctors. After the second hour, we'll have another activity (second group, rec, or maybe "outside time" if its a particularly fancy facility; while the sun will certainly be shining, our feelings of freedom will be dampened by the high fances and walls keeping us from getting away). This is usually wheb the realization sets in that im stuck here for 72 hours plus, and ill be counting them down to stave off boredom. 15-30 minutes in to this third hour, ill be called in to meet tye psychiatrist, fisrt meeting with an attendee to fill out the generic details, then 30-45 minutes of diagnosis before im told ill be put on ab antidepressant, an anxiolytic, and tramodol, a sedative marketed as "something to help me sleep" and "another antidepressant" which makes me laugh every time. Tramodol is the auppressant, the "slow down" drug which helps keep everyobe on a nice, calm level thats safer for the orderlies. Were i violent, id concur; instead, i begin to wonder how long it will take before i no longer feel persistently asleep once i leave. A couple weeks, likely. Hopefully, the food will be good, but not likely 5 star- one place ive stayed had been cooking for us in the break room, sometimes PB&J, sometimes microwaved quesadillas. Maybe theyll have more drink options than coffee, water, and sugar-free koolaid- maybe not. Likely not. Some of us will complain; most of us will know it is a fruitless endeavor. After another group or two, it will be dinner, then wrap up group. We will discuss what progress we think we made today, and be sent to bed after meds are distributed in little paper ketchup cups. Most places wont do the "cuckoos nest" tongue check, but some will, particularly the ones with kleptos and pill ODers. Lights oyt will be around 10 pm, the beds will be plasticky and the blankets thin, and sleep will only cone rhanks to our sedatives. Day two, we'll be woken early, around 6-7, by an orderly checking our blood pressure and body temp. Well all gather in the hallway, rubbing sleep out of our eyes and head to the eating area for breakfast- which loooking back will likely be the best meal of the day, not the least be ause we have access to augar and caffiene. By now, i will likely have made a friend, probably with an older woman or two, and we will enjoy surreptitiously smirking at each other when the teoublemaker patwnt tries to get an omlette or something silly. Someone will start telling fanciful stories dreamed up in the night; talk will eventually turn to who is leaving today. The orderlies will be trying to not look too interested in what we reveal to each other instead of them. They will not succeed in this. Ths first morning they will use as a test of how i deal with frustration. An older nurse will act exasperated, as though taking care of me is a curse she was tasked with. She will try to cut theough any response i give her, and rudely discount anything i try to say, as if accuaing me of lying. Knowing it is coming doesnt help it hurt less. If it overwhelms me, ill be labeled as dramatic- if not, as detached. Sluggish from the new medications, i will be treated as though i ahould not be here, and will be led aroubd more quickly than i am rady to be. I will notice that part of it is that i am beginning to realize how broken down i feel i am. Reaching out will result in canned answers and "the doctor is busy's". After all, this iant about me, and theyve seen my type before. At lunch, i will be upset by the bland meal, abd ask if they have any hot sauce, or maybethey will be out of a preferred tea, or the food will not be enough to feed me. The newcomer who arrived at morning group will share a look with the quiet patient. I will try not to notice the parallels. A therapist will ask to talk to me today. It may be a nice session, but will essebtially boil down to "let me give you ideas for solving your problems, so that your depression seems more managed." By the end of the day, they will already begin my release plan. Theyve fixed me, they are sure. I will also get my clothes back. The aurvey will be slightly different today; instead of asking on a scale of 1-10 with 1 being best abd 10 being worst how was my day, it will be the opposite: scale of 1-10 with 1 being worst and 10 being best. This way, they can track how much is me being honest, and how much is me remembering numbers to fake it. (Once, a nurse messed up so often that it was a sentence by sentence change). Later, if there is any improvement, it will be used by the hospital as signs that treatment is helping; if it gets worse, that i had a rough day and shouldnt think much of it. Bedtime will come, and i will relish it- being sedated takes a lot out of a person. When morning comes, the eggs will feel soggy and cereal with be a much better choice. A bagel will be carried into morning group and more DBT will be discussed. I will mostly be checked out; they are pulling most of their material from a 12 step program, and the leader is a student of psychology learning how to help people, but ive heard it all before, and that sense of guilt just pushes me towards suicide harder. At this point, ill feel just how desperate they are to get me out; nurses eill hint at things being the "wrong" answer with " you dont REALLY mean that, do you sweetie?" and " well, you cant keep thinking THAT way, or we'll have to keep you here longer." Boredom and longing for home will encourage me to pretend to be better, and not tell them how last night before falling asleep i stared at the vedfrane wondering if i could take it apart and form a springwire noose, or tear the blankets to make a rope. When they ask if im feeling better, it will actually mean "are you done with your timeout from reality? Have you learned how to fit in properly yet?" The meds wont really begin having a noticable effect for months- they know im lying. What they hope for is a glimmer of hope and a mountain of guilt for wanting to hurt others by hurting myself. Ill fake those, too. Still, ill be misgendered. Still, theyll blame hormones and buzzfeed rather than neurology and chemistry. After all, im well-adjusted, not at all like the Caitlyn Jenners and Wachowskis they read about on their facebooks. Its just a phase, and im just confused. I didnt try to hurt myself- nothing is *really* wrong with me. What can i do? Try and strangle myaelf, or others? That just means im lashing out, and ill get a new med regime and another 3 days, this time strapped down. Being strapped to a bed and left alone is mind-numbingly boring. If i tell them i still want to kill myaelf, theyll just nod their head and tell me it will go away soon; if i say i have a plan, rheyll keep me playing chess and reading AA papers until i apologize. Their job is not to fix me, their job is to stabilize me and make sure i dont break myself more. The fixing is my responsibility. Day four is release day. They will claim i have made improvements and have me fill out an action plan for when i feel depressed again. It will include people i can call, and ways i can push through bad feelings. It is my exit exam.when i pass, ill be set up with a therapist outside the hospital later in the week, and told how to connect with various resources. They will think i didnt know there were trans support groups. I will think that if it was just a support group i needed, i wouldnt dream of death. Neither of us will admit these things. And so, ill come back to school. Late on homework, i will have to prostrate myaelf with dictors note beggibg for forgiveness. I will get it, more due to policy than empathy, and at the end of the day, i will lay in bed, stare up at the ceiling, and contemplate which of my top three anchor spots would be the best ending to my story. Other than medical bills, nothing will have changed. Life drones on. I think i understand why death seems,so much better. In death, i can pretend there is a solution. In death, i can imagine a cure. In death, i can envision a caretaker and easier existence. It doesnt matter that death is the end of it all- i can pretend it willl be more, and my imagination can create many comforts in that void. But even death is a lie, and nothing will ever stop hurting.

[ismael37olson]

The Simple Joys of Maindenhood

One of the things that always bothers me is any production of Camelot in which Guenevere is played all sweet and virginal, or in other words, like Julie Andrews played her in the original production. The truth is that Guenevere can be a real bitch from time to time, and I think that's what's most interesting about her -- and what directors and actors miss most often. Without that, the story is far less interesting.

In many cases, original Broadway performances are reliable guides to what the writers wanted. But not always. And not in this case. Andrews had a great voice in her youth, and genuine stage presence, but she was never a very good or very nuanced actor. Guenevere, as she is written by Alan Jay Lerner, is rebellious, immature (at least in Act I), horny, and blood-thirsty! Maybe she's just a product of her times, but she loves violence (see her song, "Then You May Take Me to the Fair"); and her immaturity and restlessness will lead to a lot of needless destruction. Guenevere herself is Arthur's great tragic flaw. Julie Andrews ruined the character with her bland, sexless original performance on Broadway, and more significantly, on the original cast recording. Vanessa Redgrave understood the character much more fully in her film performance, but she was such a mediocre singer, it's hard to get through her songs. Compare Andrews' and Redgrave's opposite approaches to "The Lusty Month of May." Redgrave (with the help of more languorous orchestrations) really enjoys the words lusty and depraved, and in her hands, it's a song about fucking. In Andrews' rendition, it's just polite double entendre. In her first appearance in the show, Guenevere tells us in her "I Am" song that she is a trouble-maker. She wants men to fight over her. She wants them to kill each other over her. How can we be surprised when everything blows up in Act II? Camelot's first two songs introduce two of our three leads, and both as complete neurotics, totally ill-equipped to be married. Of course their marriage will fail. We see in these two opening numbers that they are very immature. Then again, Arthur is only 25 and Guenevere only 17 when they meet. A close look at the lyric of "Simple Joys of Maidenhood" tells us so much about Guenevere. Alan Jay Lerner has packed so much information into this song, all the while surprising us with punch line after punch line. Guenevere starts the song by calling St. Genevieve, apparently her personal patron saint. But Guenevere has to remind the saint who she is; Guenevere doesn't pray a lot. Yet only a couple lines later, she's purporting to be so devout. Right off the bat, we see that she's a liar. She says she's always been a "lamb," but we'll soon see that's not true either. She lets her anger take over and she rages at St. Genevieve, complaining about the details of her current situation, and finally -- and hilariously -- threatening to find another saint to pray to.

St. Genevieve, St. Genevieve! It's Guenevere! Remember me? St. Genevieve, St. Genevieve! I'm over here Beneath this tree... You know how faithful and devout I am, You must admit I've always been a lamb, But Genevieve, St. Genevieve -- I won't obey you anymore. You've gone a bit too far! I won't be bid and bargained for Like beads at a bazaar. St. Genevieve, I've run away, Eluded them and fled, And from now on, I intend to pray To someone else instead!

It is interesting to note Guenevere's 20th century objections to being medievally objectified. But then Guenevere decides maybe offense is a bad tack to take. If she wants rescue, she'd better be nicer to her patron saint...

Oh Genevieve, St. Genevieve, Where were you when my youth was sold? Dear Genevieve, sweet Genevieve, Shan't I be young before I'm old?

So she goes on to catalog the "conventional, ordinary, garden variety joys of maidenhood" that she's been robbed of, that she wants restored to her. And what are those simple, ordinary perks of being a teenage girl? A knight committing suicide over her. Two knights battling over her and one of them being killed. A war being waged over her, and of course, the unstated but obvious death and bloodshed that accompanies war. And finally, the best perk she imagines is not only men killing each other over her, but men killing their relatives over her.

Where are the simple joys of maidenhood? Where are all those adoring, daring boys? Where's the youth pining so for me He leaps to death in woe for me? Oh, where are a maiden's simple joys? Shan't I have the normal life a maiden should? Shall I never be rescued in the wood? Shall two knights never tilt for me And let their blood be spilt for me? Oh, where are the simple joys of maidenhood? Shall I not be on a pedestal, Worshipped and competed for? Not be carried off, or better still, Cause a little war? Where are the simple joys of maidenhood? Are those dear gentle pleasures gone for good? Shall a feud not begin for me? Shall kith not kill their kin for me? Oh, where are the trivial joys, Harmless convivial joys, Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?

That is fucked up. She has a freakish lust for violence and for bloodshed, in complete opposition to everything Arthur believes in. The central joke of the song is that all this extreme violence seems to Guenevere just the "trivial," "simple" fun of being a girl. She is actually insulted shortly afterward because Arthur won't rape her. But that lust for violence will come back to haunt her. She has no idea what she's asking for... She sees war as romantic. She’s delighted when Arthur tells her war would have broken out if they had not married. But at the end of the show, her shallow wishes come true, with deadly results. In “Guenevere,” the chorus sings:

Guenevere, Guenevere, In that dim, mournful year, Saw the men she held most dear Go to war for Guenevere.

She got her war. And it's destroyed everything Arthur built.

In addition to her bloodlust, Guenevere is also far more over-sexed than your average musical theatre ingenue. Too often directors and actors overlook her very sexual behavior. They've spent years hearing Julie Andrews' delicate, lady-like singing on the original cast album and they ignore the actual evidence in the script and score. They want to be reverent with her character because she's a queen and because ultimately she becomes a tragic figure, and perhaps also because they see Camelot as a "classic." But even a cursory look at "The Lusty Month of May" shows the real Guenevere. The title of the song says it all. It's an explicit celebration of sex, of unbridled, wicked, improper, un-wholesome, shocking sexual acts. Guenevere thinks every girl wants her boyfriend to be a cad, that self-control is a bore, that going morally astray is blissful.

Tra la, it's May, the lusty Month of May! That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray. Tra la, it's here, That shocking time of year, When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear. It's May, it's May, that gorgeous holiday, When every maiden prays that her lad Will be a cad It's mad, it's gay, a libelous display! Those dreary vows that everyone takes, Everyone breaks, Everyone makes Divine mistakes, The lusty month of May!

The fragrance she smells wafting through the air is the smell of sex, make no mistake, that "dear forbidden fruit." But what does this tell us? That Guenevere and Arthur are hopelessly mismatched. In the novel, White says "She had felt respect for [Arthur], with gratitude, kindness, love, and a sense of protection. She had felt more than this and you might say that she had felt everything but the passion of romance." Guenevere just wants fun. No responsibility, no morality, no expectations. She's still an over-sexed -- and long repressed -- teenager.

It's May, the lusty month of May, That darling month when everyone throws self-control away. It's time to do A wretched thing or two And try to make each precious day one you'll always rue.

Her idea of a good time is to do something awful you'll regret. Wow.

It's May, it's May, the month of "Yes, you may;" The time for every frivolous whim, Proper or im-. It's wild, it's gay, depraved in every way. The birds and bees with all of their vast Amorous past, Gaze at the human race aghast! The lusty month of May!

Guenevere is all about appetite. After this song, can we be surprised when she eventually has an affair? Can Arthur be surprised? Or does he just close his eyes to this problem? Arthur needs Guenevere before he can be the king he needs to be. It isn't until he meets her that he feels kingly, that he at last wants to be a king. She is his muse. But she's also a selfish bitch (at least in Act I). Look at her initial comments to Lancelot when she first meets him. She's sarcastic and insulting. Is that proper behavior for the Queen of England to someone the King brings to court? And even though she knows how much Arthur thinks of Lancelot, she keeps criticizing Lance over and over. She doesn't even attempt to be kind to him, to try to understand him, to help him feel welcome. In a sense, she's performing for the knights and ladies around her, entertaining them with her thinly veiled jibes at Lance. But also, we can see she's attracted to him -- and acting like a lust-struck thirteen-year-old. Later on, she helps build sentiment against Lance in the court by gossiping with the knights and ladies. She gives three knights her kerchief to carry against Lancelot in the jousts. And it's with this act that she tries to make her vicious childhood fantasies come true. At last she sees an opportunity for her dreams of knights fighting over her to come true. There will not only be battles; there may well be bloodshed. She knows Arthur will never deliver those fantasies. He thinks fighting is immoral unless it's to promote righteousness. Not only is Arthur not the lover she had hoped for, he's also not the warrior she dreamed of. They are mismatched in every conceivable way. Yet, when the jousts happen, when her fantasies are at last made reality, the result is tragedy. Lionel is killed by Lancelot. Finally, the death of which she dreamed has come to pass, and she suddenly realizes what she's done. She has indirectly killed a man, and not just any man, but a friend of hers, one of her favorite knights. And then the "obligatory moment," that moment in any story toward which everything before it leads and from which everything after it follows, the moment that the story cannot exist without. Lancelot steps forward, bends down, prays, and he brings Lionel back to life. We see for the first time that his claims of purity, his claims that he can perform miracles are actually true. When he rises, his eyes lock into Guenevere's, and we realize in an instant that they have fallen in love.

Perhaps Guenevere already found him physically attractive (in the novel, Lance is ugly, but in the musical, he's hot). But he's accomplished two things. First, he has saved her from her folly; he has brought back to life the knight her immature schemes had killed. Second, he has fought for her and he has won. He is the greatest knight in the court, probably in all Europe, and she sees now that he loves her, no doubt with the same passion with which he loves Arthur and the Table. How can she resist? As Queen, she should resist, but she won't. And later we will see the difference between Lance and Arthur. Whereas Arthur's love for this Table outshines his love for Guenevere, Lance clearly loves Guenevere more (or at least as much). Following her beautifully crafted arc, it's also interesting to hear how Guenevere's music gets more complex, both melodically and harmonically, over the course of the show, as she matures, as she becomes a more complex individual, and finds herself in progressively more complex situations. "Simple Joys of Maidenhood" is the song of a girl. "I Loved You Once in Silence" in Act II is the song of a woman.

I loved you once in silence, And mis'ry was all I knew; Trying so to keep my love from showing, All the while not knowing You loved me too. Yes, loved me in lonesome silence, Your heart filled with dark despair; Thinking love would flame in you forever, And I'd never, never Know the flame was there. Then one day we cast away our secret longing; The raging tide We held inside Would hold no more. The silence at last was broken; We flung wide our prison door. Ev'ry joyous word of love was spoken, And now there's twice as much grief, Twice the strain for us, Twice the despair, Twice the pain for us As we had known before. And after all had been said, Here we are, my love, Silent once more, And not far, my love, From where we were before.

In other words, be careful what you wish for. Especially if it entails harm to others. Guenevere has grown up now, but it's too late, and events are overtaking her.

Having directed the show myself for New Line in 1999, I'll admit that Camelot is a flawed show, to be sure, but still a very good one. There is so much more richness and nuance than most productions find. And as with most musicals, audiences find it very hard to distinguish between a bad show and a bad production of a good show. As long as some directors (and way too many in NYC) think they can turn their brains off to direct a musical, we'll get bland and shallow productions of shows that deserve better (I'm lookin' at you Casey Nicholaw!). If directors and actors would just pay musicals the same respect they pay to Death of a Salesman and A Midsummer Night's Dream, maybe audiences would get more productions that do justice to the material, and they'd discover that even a show with flaws, like Camelot, can still be serious and powerful and truthful. And that's all audiences want. Just tell them a story that tells the truth. Long Live the Musical! Scott from The Bad Boy of Musical Theatre http://newlinetheatre.blogspot.com/2017/11/the-simple-joys-of-maindenhood.html