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princessdianaartemis · 4 years ago

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Brainstorm Vomit

TW: Bullying; Emotion Manipulation Mention; Panic/Anxiety Attacks; Suicide Ideation; Self-Harm Mention; Death; Cursing; Description of Injury; Slight Misogyny; Depression; Anxiety; Description of Dissociation

Being made fun of in the 5th grade made me become a monster: mean, biting, sarcastic - nothing to make tears flow other than the pain that came from wanting love and even that was something no one knew about me. Just a child and already fighting with the desire to be loved. Already fighting down the thoughts of wanting to die, that everything would be fine, or better, without me.

I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t pretty enough to not get bullied; wasn’t normal enough not to be compared to things associated with taunting culture: ‘Lety la Fea’, ‘Harry Potter’s sister’, names that echo for years in this strong memory vault. Not funny enough to be approachable - that was my Feffy - not the right culture, language, look, speech. Did they see me sweet back then, or was I the carry-on for people cooler than me even back then. I shared the world of my imagination when it’s still fun to pretend in the fifth grade, when you can still be a kid, but not for much longer and the imagination had to be silenced when it wouldn't go away.

By sixth grade, I was a new me. Hard, not afraid to manipulate - adults believe anything when you’re sweet - throwing my weight around to get my way. I was told I was too mean and it stung, but anything softer and I’d be trampled to the ground - at least that’s the way it felt. I used the muscle around me to protect me, the sharpness of my tongue. Hate was easier than love, then friendliness - that was meant for paper - and I had seen how the world corrupted softness into cruelty until it disappeared.

I saw that no matter how much I primped and preened, someone would always be more beautiful and I hated every inch of me: every hair, roll, color, zits, glasses, smile, everything. I turned to my imagination to build perfection and pushed everything childish into the safety of home. Paper was my sanctuary, where kindness was allowed, where my childish likes wouldn’t be judged, and the beauty I would never be able to be came to life.

I think 7th grade saw the realest me. Joking around with Darius and Zach, the humor of my friends, the artistry, the sarcasm directed at someone who laughed it off - a father figure I hadn’t given that title to - a friend that wasn’t ashamed of my likes and my heart safe because this time I’d keep it all a secret and maybe life would take pity of find me worth and give me a chance It didn’t matter that if felt impossible when the friends around me encouraged my heart.

With eighth grade came pressure. New people with new ideas that could cost me my friends and so, like a chameleon, I adapted. Swathed in black and safe in a subculture that said it was okay to be dark and quiet and edgy but not fitting in because the darkness hit too close to home and the openness behind hurt culture shocked. Because I’d rather hoard friends: old friends, edgy friends, Latino, Black, white, rather than lose them. Not fitting into any one group but pushing into all of them. Hate mainstream ideas - the football player behind you, the cheerleader next to him because that’s what the media taught. You don’t understand why when you don’t see anything wrong with them other than the entitlement given by others, the privilege of their birth. Collecting friends so that if - when - you’re forgotten, you’d always have someone else there to catch you.

Depression, real depression not what emo culture thought it is, hits in the 9th grade and you think it’s just the leftover from those fake-dark days. You think the pain from lightning through your veins is because of the lightning in the sky and has no correlation to the heaviness in your chest, the tears you hide into pillows, screams and sobs into your palms to not wake the house. You’re 14 and surrounded by children that you still play with, down to their levels of imagination and scraping knees on carpet, and you think it’s okay because they’re still children and you’re just entertaining them.

High school means being flooded with questions about college and your plans after graduation and you’re smart so everyone assumes you know everything you’ll need in order to take those next steps. No one asks if you need help, you face that world blindly and it returns to bite you in the ass. Your head and heart finally agree and for a few blessed months you’re free of liking, of wanting to be loved, yes, there is bitter anger but you hope it teaches you never to fall again. You find a home on the stage and think that maybe there’s some talent in you after all. The words flow from your head and your mouth to the page and you start to think that maybe, maybe, life can be okay.

Tenth grade and fuck up...and you don’t even realize until that you have until it’s too late and you’re drowning. Drowning in a feeling that starts off like a crush but ends up feeling like so much more. You’re scared - you freak out a ‘trusted adult’ trying to figure out your feelings, she thinks you’re gay and afraid (you’re not but that’s a discovery for later). He says you’re aggressive and, for once, you listen, You learn not to smack people in the arm when something stupid comes out of their mouths, the sweetness you buried deep inside starts crawling back out and people like her so you like her, you parade her around and sure, she can still turn a sweet smile into a shark’s grin, but she’s kind, sweet, what he might like - might be looking for. You heal certain wounds and never say ‘love’ because that’s heartbreak ready to happen. People encourage your feelings with playful testing, the harmless pushes of ‘maybe he likes you, too’ that fuels a heart waiting for someone to love it because…

INTERMISSION

It’s easy to put on a happy face and pretend that everything’s okay when people only know one side of the dice that is your life. They don’t see the years of hurt in your own home. The poison dart glare of your mother and its returned one from your grandmother, a cycle of anger they throw each other into, of burning cold silence and explosions and you stuck in the middle. Of fearing our grandmother walking out and leaving you with the weight of caring for others, of the storming out of my mother when she’s had enough, the way grandma looks when she does disappear into the night. They don’t know that you’d sworn to yourself that those three younger than you would never know how it feels to be trapped between them. All they know is that your home life is a mystery - you don’t have a nice house, a nice neighborhood, neighbors that like you. They don’t know about all the times you put yourself before the littles so they don’t get in trouble, don’t get yelled at, don’t fear. They’ve never seen the terrifying flare of your mother’s nose, the disappointment that curls your grandmother’s lip - both of them seeing you as an echo, a step away from making the same mistakes. You feel anger, resentment, more fear than love - but like in every case, you love them because you don’t know better. When have you ever truly felt love that didn’t come without a warning sign - that this feeling is fleeting for anger and fear might be on the horizon.

END INTERMISSION

Those feelings for him is your escape - a place to channel all the hope you feel. You think if he can love you, you can have a world away from the pain you’ve seen and he pays attention in ways no one else has. And still your imagination flourishes. You don’t share your likes because you’ve learned they quickly become obsessions - hyperfixation is not a word you know yet - and that’s not normal. And Junior Year starts beautiful and full of promises, of hope and ends with still more pining for a feeling you think is impossible and for a future that, for once, doesn’t seem like a stretch.

Senior year.

You don’t know what to expect except for what you know from screens and books - the culmination of your life and the beginning of it all. But things soon take a bitter turn, promises sour. You realize that before the heartbreak breaks you, you’ve gotta let go...because the feelings aren’t going away. So you try...and try...everything up to tearing your heartstrings out themselves, but you’re blamed for hoarding, for selfishness in something uncontrollable. But you try because you know that the happiness they’d feel would be enough, but he asks you for advice and you give it…and you get blamed for tilting the situation in your favor. You’re hurt…a friend is lost but you Go ON. Things slowly fall back in place. You make deals that you don’t know, one that people say to believe in: Give me Love returned or take these feelings away before it’s too late. Please. Please. You dance together at prom and you hate the way it feels. You try to pray the feelings away with no answer. He sits next to you in your tiny car, close and just hidden from the world and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly and you pray that these feelings disappear in the next few weeks or you’re doomed. And still they remain. In hindsight, you wish you’d told him to reject you. A clean cut to set you free.

Graduation is supposed to mean the end of one chapter and beginning of the next, but it becomes the difference between a coming-of-age story to a tragedy. It’s hot and full of happiness…and sadness. Wanting desperately for a movie moment, a final act that seals a love that has always been there and making those dreamy romantic notions reality. But the buzz is too much and you lose him in the sea of people. Sourness in your stomach, the words of nights before echo: “Don’t let me make it past graduation. I know that everything will go downhill from there.” Sealed fate. Abu crying in joy, or was it acceptance? Her touching my hair and telling me how long it was getting. A lunch together before I take off to be with friends - so many friends and I think that I will never be forgotten. I said goodbye and rolled my eyes when my grandmother told me to be careful. I should’ve said I love you. I should’ve said something. Party hopping: joy, Joy, JOY because I’m accepted, I’m loved and it feels like I’ve made it. Like I’ve basked in Love meant for me, missing that one piece, but still drunk in joy…and it all crashes down with reality.

Chaos.

Police interviewing Mom, Police interviewing Brother, can’t see the littles and wonder if it’s about them. Then the words: grandmother, car - chaos. Be the strong one, be the steady one: Mom’s hurting, Brother’s hurting, littles are panicking, be the one with strength. Call him. You need his steadiness, his cold detachment - you need someone who doesn’t care but cares enough to keep you balanced. “Distract me,” you say and that droning voice does enough to push you forward. You are strong. So many times being told it and it becomes a mantra. But it’s also your downfall. You bite your tongue that says she won’t make it and ride that thread of Hope until it snaps. Excuse yourself. Pull yourself together in the hospital bathroom, be steady for the rest of them. Ask to see her. Don’t wonder about the bruises, the lifelessness of an eerily quiet body - so different from its snoring slumber, don’t focus on the stumps where legs should be - don’t think that this is the better option than seeing her live crippled. Don’t wonder how exactly it happened. You call him in a garden, May-warm night that feels cold and the stupidly selfish part wishes it’ll happen, that he’ll be there in this dark time and love could blossom.

You have a job to do. Hold yourself strong as mother and brother mourn, keep the younger ones joyful, fed, happy, clean - the world didn’t end, we just have to adapt. Become the missing person and pick up where she left off: distract the kids, fall into the quiet trap of summer. Summer had always been lonely, now it’s a different type of darkness.

The medium comes to your house and you’re a skeptic - this woman has been told about your grandmother beforehand and will tell you what you want to hear. She says vague things at first and you’re still standoffish, then she gets specific - things no one knows - and she echoes familiar words from the deceased: “They’re not your kids.”

But it’s too late.

You’re short on tuition, scholarships you weren’t good for, the things that they didn’t teach you have caught up and you resign yourself to not go to school - get a job to help the house - by some miracle you get the money, you make it in. Far from your dream - away from Spanish moss covered streets or a French castle - and into a world of hours in traffic, walks in a metropolis. Acting is a vague dream, so you turn back to the imagination you pen. You don’t learn to live on your own and instead learn how to care for, serve, others (in your head you feel Chris cackling somewhere, that you’ve served your rightful place as a woman). Everyone else is growing, learning, loving, and you’re still playing with littles, still trying to find connections among peers - both past and present. When everyone is much more applied, talented, artistic, open and you close up.

Your foolish heart still wants him, but your brain knows better - know that you’ll never see him again. That he’ll fall for a lithe and kind thing, traditional, safe - things you’ll never be. You want to rip that bandaid away, push him out of your life and hope that it snuffs out the flame. So you block him - he might’ve reached out to you - but you don’t know - and the question haunts you. You know you need help. It’s not healthy to lock yourself up and cry in the bathroom, mourning alone so no one hears, so you can stay strong, and hope that no one catches you hurt. You wait for your mother to explode in anger - it's been a while and you can sense it in the air. And now Abu isn’t there to protect, to take the brunt, to tell her off - what do you do. The therapist says to create boundaries and be able to live your life and you try - she made you say the word ‘love’ and you hate it - the kids need protection, they need someone to buffer it - your brother is in a dark place and spiraling, no longer the sunshine of the house. Like you predict, mom explodes and you stand up. Tell her you’re all terrified of her - of her anger, of tiptoeing around her. She withdraws and the fear paralyzes you, lives inside of you like ice, but the kids need to eat, need to play, need school, so you go on with your days, And eventually, she speaks and says she’ll do better. For the kid’s sake, you hope so, it’s too late for you.

You find yourself not liking anyone new. Discover a term you identify with: asexual. Because the body and its orifices are disgusting to you even though you still want to be cuddled, coddled, loved. You say demi because you’ve never been attracted at first sight, not until the strands of their being have been exposed to you and things make sense - why you can’t let go, why you can’t build something new when you can’t get to know anyone. Suddenly things make sense.

Your imagination is dimming. The world you're so meticulously poured your lifeblood into now withers and becomes hollow. Poetry mixes into the page, melancholic and sadder than it has any right being. The feelings you’d wished would dissolve come and go in tides, in sighs that replace his name, your heart aches and the heaviness fills your bones like lead. You try to make friends and, despite the privilege etched into the world of the young woman, you think you've made one - and then she drags you under a bus. All the while, you’ve been pushing people away, people that loved you. You still have such a strong love for all those people in your heart, people you’d written to, but your obsession lies in knowing if you’d even meant anything and you come up empty. You were never a friend, just a passing character in their lives. Again, you hide yourself. It’s too late to build up these walls that made you tough and mean, but the cynicism creeps back in.

Someone had once said they’d seen you become less cynical - they'd be sad to see it return, but they’re not around anyway.

You chose your family over yourself, over friends, over making a life, and now...People get engaged. People get married. People have children. They have friends they meet up with - friends they want to meet up with. They have significant others. You know it’s a matter of time before you break. You’re not envious, you’re so happy for them, but you feel so hurt and chillingly alone. A burden on everyone you come across. But you made yourself this way. You’re afraid of being jobless, a financial burden in the household you’re still living in, so you find a job in the one place you can fall back on - school. In the place you think appreciation lies. You want to help kids not become you. You forget the specters of pain hiding in corners - you forget that memories can quickly become tangible. Not ready for the emotional weight this job brings, the kids you cannot help. The kids it’s too late for, the disrespect because people still see a child and that’s all you’ll be - never enough for others. Cynicism settles in your heart, quiet is your friend, self-flagellation your comfort.

It gets better.

Then it gets worse.

Realize how you’re bound to this land when your brother gets to leave. What blood-spilled oath has tethered you to this place and refuses to let you escape? You chose to stay and protect children that didn’t ask for protection. You chose this job. YOU chose your family over yourself, over friends, over making a life, and now YOU’RE TRAPPED and there’s no escape. You try to do things you love, you make an exchange, a deal, with higher beings: If this doesn’t work out. It’s a dream not meant to be.

See unfortunately that’s how I see the relationship with God works. They will never give you anything without taking something else away. It’s an exchange, not a gift.

It doesn’t work, but someone does get that dream and you try not to be upset. To be happy. But bitterness sets in because you wanted a moment to get to shine again, to be more than a shadow and they seem to grow brighter as you dim. Cold settles…colder than it’s ever been. This is depression like you’ve never known and it claws at every strand of joy, every light swallowed. For the first time, you want to draw blood. First, it’s kitten scratches, nails biting into flesh. Then you find a tool of irony - the broken fragments of a happy family picture - and cut deeper. The beads of blood you offer to the Heavens and hope that, for once, it appeases the being that seems to be set on punishing you so soundly.

Am I a scapegoat of some familial fault? Payment for the sins of my parents? My grandparents? For my own cruelty? Am I such a horror that I deserve a lifetime of torture and punishment at my own hands?

You feel lonelier than ever. Push away people because you don’t deserve joy and people don’t want to be brought down by a killjoy like you. Feel the sharp edge of childhood in your face as sneers replace smiles, as stoic faces replace shallow happiness. Fuzziness. You move like a robot. Disconnected between mind and body. Watch yourself, detach from the body. People question the scars and the lies fall easy, swallowed down because it’s easier to accept that self-mutilation. And all the while you’re searching for Home. You don’t know what that is because you say it in the comfort of your bed. Find comfort in sleep, find comfort in your new hyperfixation - in the angel and demon on your shoulders and their love, fictional or maybe hovering over you - it’s the only thing keeping you going. You imagine them loving you and it almost feels real. Until the illusion shatters and the loneliness returns. You’re a bird of paradise, flaunting around in bright colors to hide the numbness inside. And you know for the first time in your life that the chemical imbalance needs to be fixed. Medication helps. Meditation helps. And, for a short bit, religion helps. But there is always numbness underneath.

Then slowly things start to come apart. Blame the distance, blame disease, blame that “everyone is feeling the same”, but you feel less than before. A new void of nothingness - even the sweet brushes of hopeful love extinguished and you want to be alone. Alone keeps you safe. You’re gone and no one notices. You’re gone and want to stay gone. Spirited away by feathered embraces, to a place where there is Love.

Writing comes and writing goes. That world you created, that you loved and filled with people you loved is now an empty chasm or what might’ve been. You can’t enter that headspace because they’re gone and you’re alone and - and they were never real to begin with. She faded with your spirit, the world you thought would always be there is now something you don’t even recognize anymore. It was a world built on the hopes of a girl - with the promise of love and a future that this woman no longer sees. So you pen the outpour of your soul, the things you cannot tell people out loud.

You don’t want people to reach out, because it’s always the same. Offers of help that you can’t take. You’ve always taken care of others but you can’t take care of yourself, can’t let others take care of you because you’re a burden. People that get busy and you can’t drag them away from that just because you’re hurting, that’s not their job - it’s not what they signed up for. Let them be happy. They can be happy. Don’t drag them down with you. So stay in your little corner and hide stare yourself in the eye and see if you can pull yourself out of the hell you created. You don’t want the supportive words that you can’t even process, that you hear but can’t let them sink in anymore. Affirmations mean nothing. Touch is no longer allowed with this fucking virus and it’s all your hungry soul want. You want love - a love you don’t have to share - a type of love you don’t have to share, but your hunger for that needs to be starved.

Plus, you’re only word vomiting, not asking for help, not asking for attention, just letting it all hang out. You haven’t had anything to hide in so long, just that no one listens - no one has the time - and you suck at writing. You can talk about all the new medical shit, the imposter syndrome you had this week, the anxiety, the seasonal depression peeking and shaking hands with the regular depression. But what’s the point. Just write it down, let it all out and hope you can ease your fuzzy mind.

#me #writing #my writing #lots of TW #self reflection #tw: self harm #tw: dissociation #tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety #tw: depression #tw: bullying #tw: death #tw: description of injury

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girlbookwrm · 6 years ago

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i have reached my breaking point and I need to tell y’all A Thing, and that Thing is to do with The Hair.

Look at Steve’s hair here. That little poof in the front that turns into a luscious wave behind and I gotta tell you guys, my hair does that. I got stupid-thick hair about that length. It’s great. I hate it. And sometimes I just want it outta my face and there’s a thing that I do that makes my hair do Exactly What Steve’s Does Here, and I can only assume that we achieve This Look in similar ways so I need you all to understand that Steven Grant Rogers, Captain Goddamn America, definitely owns one of these:

and he whipped it off his head 3.5 seconds before getting off the quinjet.

Tell me, why is this any different?

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eggyolkeater · 8 years ago

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Good things that happened in 2016

idk i just felt like doing this

Old friends senior dog sanctuary existed

Leo finally won an oscar

Joe Binden and Obama broke the meme community

Kate McKinnon won and Emmy, did the lesbian salute, existed, smiled and was really pure

Grace Helbig existed, smiled, snap chatted, released a new movie, modelled and just was cute in general

Mamrie Hart existed, snap chatted, released a new movie, modelled and was just a crazy pretty human in general

Hella

Hannah Hart got her own TV show on the Food Network, was adorable, released a new book + tv show and started dating Ella

Ghostbusters was released

I came out

Dan + Phil released 2 movies and finally came to Australia

Twenty One Pilots won an AMA

Bee movie memes

Meme community donated a heap of money to help Stefan Karl with cancer

I got Instagram (hmu if u want it)

LGBT community was recognised a heap

Figured out my sexuality

Cut off a few toxic relationships

Got fitter

olD FRIENDS SENIOR DOG SANCTUARY

*bonus: westworld*

#old friends senior dog sanctuary #kate mckinnon #leonardo dicaprio #obama #grace helbig #mamrie hart #hannah hart #Hella #dan and phil #gay #twenty one pilots #lazytown #bee movie #lgbt

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tumblunni · 6 years ago

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MAN OKAY IM MAKING A SELF INDULGENT KINGDOM HEARTS SONA

Probably the only main reason i havent made another one since i was a kid is cos i never really wanted to be a keyblade master. Even as a kid i always hated "they are just all magically born evil because darkness energy" as a trope. Whenever an evil guy had minions who were all "mindless and evill" and you were supposed to mow them down in droves because of it, i always felt like they seemed LESS evil, yknow? Like youre canonically stating that theyre NOT evil! Theyre dangerous, yeah, but you just said that they dont have complex cognitive thought or ability to choose their own actions. Theyrr just being USED for evil, by the guy whos the real evil! Theyre like guard dogs who were abused into dangerness and if they cant be rehibilitated then its sad, yknow? Poor heartless!! And seriously how can they make them have such cute designs and not expect us to see them that way!!

So yeah i hate that canonically the heartless are all evil and canonically everyone good has to destroy the heartless, like its the entire damn point of a keyblade so i couldnt even touch one without being forced to slay the cutebabs! And KHDDD was great with the long awaited addition of CUTE BABS GOOD GUY MONSTERS YOU CAN HUG, although they were a whole new species of monster and its still canon that heartless are all evil and the equally as annoying canon that all good/remotely sentient Nobodies look like regular humans instead of the cute patoots they once was. THE CUTE PATOOT THAT NEVER WAS!!!! Srsly the low level Dusk is my fave design in the whole series its such a good squiggle boye

OKAY OKAY SO MY POINT IS

If i was gonna make a normal khsona itd have to be either specifically a Dream Eater trainer keyblade weilder whose entire story is about pet raising and none of the fightng evil, or an Organization member because theyre the only sympathetic monsters even if they dont look monstery anymore. Even though obviously rationally my self insert in anything would always be a good guy cos i am a very soft boyo who is too much of a wimp to do the slightest evil. But alas all the best characters are evil and the monsters look so cute aaaa!!

SO OKAY my ULTIMATE self indulgent khsona would be ME AM ANSEM NOW

Me as a heartless researcher who hugs all the heartless and becomes a heartless and then we heartlessly heartfully hug! Cos seriously it is a true fact that i would be a good guy but also if someone came up to me and was like "hey its totally possible to BECOME one of the cute monsters" id be like "oh noooo dammit i guess im evil now" *shrugs in heartless* But i wouldnt really do anything evil i'd just run like.. Old friends senior heartless sanctuary. Just make a big nice house for all my monsters and bake them cakes everyday. I WOULD LEARN TO COOK FOR THEM!!!! So if that makes me evil then i guess i am evil, dammit!! "Oh nooo we dont wanna get our souls stolen and turn into really fabulous cute designs with amazing supernatural powers" well you are WRONG okay. Just my most self indulgent everything idea is just *points at the evilest beastie* im gonna lovv and cherish that! *takes a running leap into a ballpit of Darkballs* SERIOUSLY DARKBALLS ARE SOME OF THE CUTEST AND ALL THEIR ANIMATIONS ARE SO CUTE WHY IS EVERY HEARTLESS SO CUTE AND SO ANIMATED WHY ARE THEY THE MOST DIDNEY THING IN DIDNEY WHY DID THE NEW GAME ADD A HEARTLESS WHOSE JUST A BIG PUDDING WITH A FACE HOW AM I MEANT TO NOT LOVE THAT hhhh

So yeah khsona bunni is some librarian mothafucker who does Deep Darkness Research but is also the nice goofy good guy sort of mad scientist, like the nutty professor or something. I'd probably be the comic relief on some team of actual villains, thats the only way id really be any threat to anyone. But i'd also totally be The Mom Friend and itd be like u guys are having some serious battle and then i call up Mr Big Villain mid battle like HEY YO COME JOIN KARAOKE WITH ME AND THE HEARTLESS and then hes like "damn man can we have a rain check on the whole end of the world thing?"

Like lol another self indulgent oc thing would be "power to be friends with all the fave villains and they are my friend and we hug". Like an all star teamup of just specifically all bunni's fave KH and didney villains and then also they never fight anyone and we just enjoy slice of life friendship antics. Like Kuja and Ursula would be so cool!! Cos theyre both similar personality yet Kuja had experience manipulating a more loser-y lady who looked a lot like ursula so i can expect he'd underestimate her and try his queen brahne plan again and maybe get outsmarted? And maybe theyd be locked in an eternal battle of two masterminds trying to manipulate each other and along the way they somehow end up accidentally forming a mentor student or mom and son relationship? Like ursula is the better version of garland and she helps kuja heal from his childhood trauma and also in the process maybe he helps her heal from whatever ambiguous backstory event led to her being ostracized from her royal family and such. THEY WOULDNT BE BAD IF THEY HAD HUGS OK let me believe this!! And also of course theyre both the big gay/trans coded dramatic fashion person from their respective stories, so srsly there could be so much awesomeness from the combination of The Two Most Stylish Of Two Worlds! Also i wonder how Kuja would even work in a khified version? Like maybe terra still exists as a separate world in kh world rules and it has a plan to destroy and take over gaia in the same way as the original ff9. Or maybe take some of kuja's other plot points and go from there? Like with how he disguised himself as a treno noble and how he eas created by garland to be an "angel of death", maybe in this world he's a shapeshifter Nobody assassin who infiltrates different worlds and corrupts important people to help garland destroy them? But since he's a very complex experiment and complex = humanoid in this universe, it could be an excuse for him becoming sentient over time and having a plot similar to repliku wanting to be a real human. And i dunno maybe zidane is his "brother" because he's the heartless made from the same original dead guy, who was discarded as a failed experiment? Like it could be interesting to see both of them as villains on the same side, and actually have a close relationship as loving brothers. And theres even already a monkey type heartless! And i dunno maybe the plot of garland creating the genomes infiltrator heartless and then kuja going on to create black mages still black mages? Like he still makes Vivi cos seriously its SO WEIRD that the heartless are based on black mages and then of all things they decided that Vivi would be the ONLY ff9 character allowed to appear in the whole kh series and itd just be in the role of "normal human kid". But they didnt even change his design!! He still looks like a heartless!! Why does nobody question why fredbob mcnormalson doesnt have a face!! So itd make much more sense if he was still a heartless and he's just a good one who wants to be a real boy BUT COS THE WORLD SAYS ALL HEARTLESS ARE EVIL I CANT HAVE THAT. Theyre all evil and only extra evil people get to be humanoid types! Boooo! So kuja doing Special Experiment Science could explain there being at least one special heartless thats not evil. And i dunno, kuja sends vivi out on his first test mission to infiltrate and destroy twilight town but whoops instead he becomes everyone's favourite baby brother! Like he's about to devour some dude's soul and then seifer and co come in and yell at the victim like DUDE ARE U BULLYING THIS POOR TINY CHILD and they drag off this poor very confused heartless in a hug and now he's Lost Forever I Guess. Kuja: damn he tasted icecream i'll never get him back!

Look ok i really like Villains Who Are Not Bad and i will constantly make Villains Who Are Not Bad and nothing will ever be better than Villains Who Are Not Bad

My khsona is Good Heartless who hugs Good Heartless in a team of Good Heartless and also brings in other cameo characters to become Good Heartless ok yes the end hell yea hugs n such

TYHE BEST OCS IS HUGS OCS OK

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renegadepack · 6 years ago

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mike & edward! (1953swan)

Mike: What is your worst f*ckboy experience

oh man i groaned when i saw what this question was asking lol. this is the story of the Guy That Made Me Realize I’m a Fucking Dyke. it’s a long one so buckle up.

ok so. i had basically known this dude since middle school, but we had rarely, if ever spoken. this was towards the end of the summer before we both started college (we were both going to schools like 2 hours from our hometown, and 2 hours apart from each other). one of the teachers at our high school had died, and she was an amazing woman that a lot of the students, but mostly the seniors (her classes were mostly only available to seniors) loved, including myself. i wanted to go to her memorial service, but had no way there because both of my parents would be working and i didn’t have my own car yet. so i made a status on facebook, asking if anyone could give me a ride.

He Who Shall Not Be Named (hwsnbn) was the only one who responded, saying he thought he could but wasn’t sure. i was like “alright, cool, just lemme know!” he popped back in like five minutes later and was like “ope no i can’t, but hey i haven’t seen you in FOREVER wanna get lunch soon?” and i was like “uuuuhhhhhhh, you never really saw me before school but suuuure, why not.” (because he’s a fuckboy, past me. that’s why not. because he’s a fuckboy.)

so we went out for lunch at some glorified fast food joint in town. it was the most awkward hour of my life. we had nothing in common. would of us would ask a glorified small talk question, we’d get MAYBE a minute of conversation out of it, and then another two minutes of silence before the cycle started again. i couldn’t take it anymore and eventually made some excuse about needing to pack so i could get out of there.

i left for school the next day, and somehow hwsnbn and i texted the whole drive. he was flirting with me a lot and i was definitely doing the whole “haha that’s funny how interesting” thing u do when you’re definitely NOT interested but don’t know what else to do or say. this went on for another day or so before he eventually confessed he liked me. me, being a poor innocent lil 18 year old that had never had a guy like her and was therefore an Utter Dumbass at feelings and responding to boys that are NOT worthy of your time, decided that Oh Hey I Like Him Too. (spoiler alert: i Did Not like him)

i used the excuse of long distance to explain why i didn’t want to officially be together, saying we should go out on an official date before becoming boyfriend/girlfriend. he agreed, and decided we should take it slow. in a not at all shocking turn of events, the test determined that was a LIE. hwsnbn decided it would be Fun and Respectful to start making really sexual texts towards me. it started in the form of pick-up lines (which i genuinely LOVE, cheesey pick-up lines are some of the highest form of humor), but eventually progressed and i was NOT comfortable with it for many reasons. (i didn’t know him well enough, and, unknown to me at the time, i don’t like boys). i told him to back off, which he did, for a little. i eventually began to go along with it, because i didn’t know what else to do and liked the attention. (the more i look at this, the more i realize how fucked up it was and now i’m lowkey scared of seeing him, really glad i got out when i did.) it kept escalating.

like three weeks later, we went on the date, dinner and a movie. much like our impromptu lunch date, it was the most awkward FOUR hours of my life. we still didn’t have anything to say to each other, still had nothing in common. he didn’t try to hold my hand or ANYTHING the whole time (i’m a real touchy-feely person, and i had made that clear. i LOVE innocent physical contact.) at the end of it we were both like “hmmmm, this aint gonna work out.” sounds like a good ending right? WRONG.

he wanted to be friends! and take it slow! and see if we could grow from there! and then would barely respond, and when i confronted him about that, was like “well i just don’t want us (he said us but he meant me) to get carried away!!” and i was FINALLY like, okay “boy bye.” STILL NOT THE END.

he’d text me randomly once every other month or so, generally innocent at first. one time he basically suggested we get together and fuck, so i was like “oh not that bored” (go young me!) and didn’t hear from him for three months. they were great. this is around when i start realizing/accepting i’m gay.

so i get back from a concert at like three am, and grab my phone to text my dad that i made it back to school safely. i see a TEN PAGE message from hwsnbn, that’s basically “i’m so sorry for how i treated you and it was so wrong and i’m so sorry i care about you so much and i have changed” (spoiler: he fucking hadn’t). i’m instantly like “ooooohhh boy, it is WAY Too Early for this” so i tell him as such. he was actually suprisingly chill with that, being all “that’s ok take your time!”

i finally get back to him that saturday. i basically tell him, “look, you’re cool. but i don’t see us working out; we shouldn’t be together.” i must say something like “i don’t know what should be/we shouldn’t be together/maybe let’s be friends or something” so HE goes “oh like friends with benefits?” BIGGEST EYE ROLL. and i say no, eventually getting to “we shouldn’t even be friends.” haven’t heard from him since.

TL;DR: one time this guy tried to fuck me without realizing the only thing we have in common is that we’re both exclusively attracted to women.

Edward: Make a 9 song soundtrack about your life

sanctuary by paradise fears; the other side by tonight alive; enchanted by taylor swift; i’m not that girl from wicked obc; crack my heart by tonight alive; the break from next to normal obc; color by paradise fears; body love by mary lambert; ring of keys from fun home obc

twilight character asks!!

#ooof that song thing was SO HARD #thank u so much!#raccoonfarms

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greatlordfluffernutter · 3 years ago

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Original SFRJ mods come back and want their blog back.

The old friends senior dog sanctuary blog comes back and refuses to acknowledge the dicked down post.

Taylor Swift comes out as gay but 30 hours later admits it was a lie for clout.

Sherlock season 5 features cumberbatch saying a slur causing the last 3 superwholocks to come out of the woodworks to defend him.

Tumblr user Pizza reactivates and nobody can tell if they're the same person or not.

C'mon Apollo, throw me a rubber ball here.

desperately hope that if tumblr dies we get like, one big last drama. not like toxic drama or anything illegal or whatever. just like. something so tumblr and so Act 3 resolution that it gives me closure. someone comes forward with proof that they were conceived in the dashcon ball pit vibes.

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fantasticworldoffanfics · 6 years ago

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DEREK/STILES

——— (part 6) ——–

Fandom: TeenWolf

Even a longer list of fanfics :)….

top favourites, more top favourites, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Down in Flames Series

Author: standinginanicedress

Part 1: So, Hey, Let’s Be Friends

Summary: Stiles has been fucking obsessed with famous werewolf author Derek Hale since he was fifteen years old and the first book came out. Like, embarrassingly obsessed. Like, had a poster of the guy hanging up on the wall above his bed, obsessed. When Hale moved back to Beacon Hills, Stiles just figured he'd hole himself up in his rebuilt mansion, writing his fourth book, never to fulfill Stiles' endless daydreams about running into him and having the alpha fall madly in love with him.It's completely fucking improbable and nonsensical, would never happen in a million years, so of course Stiles somehow winds up in a no-strings-attached agreement with his literary idol, all while eating chicken McNuggets out of his pocket at random intervals and plotting the demise of the McFlurry mixer.

Part 2: How This One Ends

Summary: “And Stiles,” he's addressed directly for the first time since this whole thing started, and when all eyes land on him this time, he just squeezes Derek's hand and squares his shoulders. He can act like this doesn't bother him. Derek can do it, and Derek's here. He'll be okay. “...how does it feel to know that millions upon millions of people are going to read intimate, private details about your life with Derek?”“It doesn't bother me,” Stiles says with a shrug, going for nonchalant and feeling like he's doing it pretty well. “I knew what I was getting into. Besides – everyone wants Derek Hale to write about them, right?”

Part 3: If It’s Torture

Summary: “I’m – I’m working on my next book.”That, out of everything, anything on the face of the god damn planet, is not what Stiles had expected Derek to say. After everything that’s happened, after Spark and the mess that it was, and after Derek firing then rehiring Lydia, and after Derek pointedly avoiding his office study for months upon months, and after Stiles not hearing a word about any new projects, never seeing Derek writing anything down… Stiles would have thought that aliens invading was a more viable possibility than Derek writing a new book.He’s made his money, more than anyone else needs in a lifetime, and Stiles thought that meant that he would be done. Maybe Stiles forgot that money isn’t why Derek does what he does, after all, and that’s not fair to him. “Oh,” Stiles says, because he honestly can’t think of anything, not a single thing else, to say.

Red Velvet and Fur (A Hanky Code For Gay Werewolves)

Author: orphan_account

Summary: In which Stiles in unrepentant in his (somewhat accidental) quest to get Derek to knot him, Derek is oblivious and sexually frustrated, and Lydia is the incredibly attractive devil on Stiles' shoulder who has nothing but terrible, amazing ideas. Who knew there was a hanky code for werewolves?

Except What Has Been Forgotten

Author: suzvoy

Summary: In which Stiles wakes up with a shiny new case of amnesia and it's immediately obvious that his best friend is lying to him - which might have something to do with the (hot) guy who keeps appearing his room. What the hell has he been doing for the past 18 months?

Seaside Framed in Glass

Author: mrecookies

Summary: "I'm going to name you Derek," Stiles announces, still looking cross-eyed at the puppy in his hands. It's looking back with a confused and sad expression, probably asking Stiles in some baby dog language why it's being named after a brooding werewolf. "It's because you're always sulking, even though I got you a nice basket and biscuits and everything," he says sternly. The puppy whines and hangs its head.

Is That a Gun in Your Pocket, or are You Just Happy To See Me

Author: goodnight_tinyhumans

Summary: Stiles might be a little sick of unrequited feelings or lust or whatever. The situation with Derek- Deputy Hale, he has to keep reminding himself, because he’s never actually told Stiles his name and that’s getting into creeper territory pretty quickly- has gone past the merely-wanting-to-jump-his-bones stage and well into die-hard-crush, complete with inappropriate fantasies involving handcuffs and roleplaying. And the problem with that, of course, is that he tends to resolve situations like these one of two ways: going out and getting drunk, or staying home and getting drunk.

You Don't See Straight

Author: annber

Summary: Stiles finds himself in a secret werewolf community to participate in a mating run. Sterek happens. Side OC's.

Devoted

Author: Jerakeen

Summary: Stiles expected the incubus to be something ethereal, otherworldly, inhumanly beautiful. This guy looks like a lawyer.

**sidenote: you need an AO3 account to view this fanfic

Practice Makes Perfect Series

Author: blacktofade

Part 1: Practice Makes Perfect

Summary: In his sophomore year, Stiles gets dragged to lacrosse tryouts by Scott and ends up practising alongside the senior captain, Derek Hale. Stiles just wants to live long enough to become a junior.

Part 2: Picture Perfect

Summary Two years later, Stiles and Derek are still together, but there's 200% more sex and too many miles between them.

**sidenote: you need an AO3 account to view this fanfic

Bodice Ripper ‘Verse Series

Author: Stoney

Part 1: The One With The Scottish Wolf Lord

Summary: The Hales are alive and a royal family in Scotland; Stiles is the waif sent to work in the kitchens, elevated to personal attendant/servant to the young Lord Hale. Who happens to be a wolf who can't shift back.

Part 2: The One Where Stiles Reads The Scottish Wolf Lord

Summary: This is about the actual book and how Stiles - canon-compliant universe set in the future - is reading it in Derek's loft. Derek is very curious as to why Stiles would be interested in such a thing.

Part 3: The One Where They're Forced To Marry in Ye Olden Times

Summary: Due to the destruction of House Hale and the debts incurred in their survival and search for justice, the King (blah blah, make believe world) arranges a marriage between Derek and Stiles, eliminating all debts the Hales may owe. Derek is very unhappy. Stiles is pretty shocked at who he's being matched with, but he's certainly not unhappy. It's pretty clear from the start Derek doesn't share that feeling.Stiles passes the time by hunting with his falcon, Derek broods. Until...

Part 4: The One With The Mail-Order Bride

Summary: Wolves aren't meant to be alone. Laura tells Derek this repeatedly. Which... is why Derek knows he's losing his mind, as Laura has been dead for more than six years. Wolves aren't meant to be alone.And so he sends away for a companion. JUST for a companion, not for a mate. The universe, however, has a different plan in store for him.

**these are more separate stories than a continuous fic

A Strong Heart and a Nerve of Steel

Author: lupinus, uraneia

Summary: Stiles and Derek wake up married in Vegas. Well, they would have if it was legal.In which Stiles is the president's son, Derek is his bodyguard, and Papa President orders them to pretend to be in love for the sake of gay rights. Or in which uraniea and lupinus combine meeting the Hales, President Papa, waking up married, fake/pretend relationship, First Boy Stiles, and bodyguard Derek into one fic.

**sidenote: you need an AO3 account to view this fanfic

The Importance Of Turning Around Three Times Before Lying Down

Author: otter

Summary: It’s like this dog has walked out of all of Stiles’ childhood dreams and into the real world just because Stiles wanted it hard enough. He is the most awesome dog ever, and he and Stiles have a bond. A deep, unbreakable bond because this animal is his soul mate, obviously. Now he just has to convince the dog of that.

Pack Up, Don't Stray

Author: the_deep_magic

Summary: AU – Werewolves are an enslaved underclass, collared and tagged by human masters. Detective Stilinski’s on duty the night they bring in an untagged stray.

(Sacred) In the Ordinary

Author: idyll

Summary: The Pack, after college, graduate school and the starting of careers, comes back to Beacon Hills. Nothing's gotten less complicated after all this time.Based on a kink meme prompt that grew legs and got serious.

We Are So Intimately Rearranged

Author: secondstar

Summary: A High School AU where there are no werewolves and no hunters. Stiles is getting ready for his senior year when he meets Derek at the coffee shop he works at.

The Sanctuary

Author: chase_acow

Summary: Stiles runs away during his first heat, right into the waiting and ambiguously scary arms of the Alpha's nephew, Derek Hale. He doesn't have any choice except to submit, but along the way, he digs up a mystery that threatens his family and even the town's safety.

The Hazards (and Benefits) of Channel-Surfing on Friday Nights

Author: herbeautifullie

Summary: He's watching TV over the edge of his laptop when Scott brings up the fact that he's still a lonely loser in his third year of college without a boyfriend which, while being completely true, is really fucking unappreciated. It sparks a desperate need to save what little manhood Stiles has and, before he knows it, he's blurting, "I totally have a boyfriend, dude. Shows how much you know."How was he supposed to know Scott would doubt him? It's not Stiles' fault that someone named Derek Hale really exists. It's also not his fault when his lie grows legs and runs so far he can't find it until it's too late – too late and standing right in front of him, gorgeous and annoyed and not at all the person Stiles made him up to be.Yeah, this could get bad.

Grounded on Living Skin

Author: otter

Summary: The tattoo parlor didn’t look like much. The apprentice who was supposed to be inking Derek's new magical tattoo wasn't immediately confidence-inspiring either.

Cocktails and Dreams

Author: popfly

Summary: Derek is a bartender who works in a dive bar but loves craft cocktails. Stiles just wants a drink.

Open the Door

Author: eternalbreath

Summary: Derek gives Stiles his jacket.

Every Step You Take

Author: Nokomis

Summary: Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super.

Darling Its No Joke

Author: thehoyden

Summary: The first thing Stiles thinks when he opens the door is that it’s not his birthday, but someone has sent him some kind of cop stripper.

It's Been like Years Since it's Been Clear

Author: sirona

Summary: It's six-thirty in the morning, but there are warm lights behind the floor-to-ceiling, de-boarded windows, and the 'For Sale' sign on the door has disappeared along with Stiles' memory of where he'd been headed just moments before. The coffee shop is, apparently, open for business once more.

Love Comes in Spurts Series

Author: talktowater

Part 1: Love Comes in Spurts

Summary: Stiles has always had sort of a hero worship thing going on with Scott's step-brother Derek so moving into a house with him freshman year was basically fulfilling a childhood fantasy. Discovering how Derek was putting himself through college, well that was a whole other fantasy that Stiles didn't even know he had.

Part 2: Now Your Smile Comes Over in Your Voice

Summary: Part two of Love Comes in Spurts series.

Milk Vetch Series

Author: silverlining99

Part 1: A Little Less Sixteen Candles

Summary: In which Derek fails at wooing, and Stiles fails at catching a clue. Isaac & co. are there, but otherwise not season 2 compliant.

Part 2: For A Pessimist, I’m Pretty Optimistic

Summary: n which Derek has a sweet tooth and a crush, Erica has a rom-com collection and all the win, and Stiles has some catching on to do.Season 2 compliance is willfully haphazard.

Part 3: A Slow Dive, A Fast Distraction

Summary: In which Derek opens up in more ways than one, and Stiles could really use a road map to this relationship business.

The Art of Dying Well

Author: kinneas

Summary: "You said we're friends.""Whoa, way to hold what a guy says in the heat of the moment against him," Stiles replies automatically, but... that's not what he wants to say, not at all, not to the quiet contemplation that is Derek Hale on his living room sofa. So he adds, "I guess, yeah."Derek doesn't speak for a long moment. "Then it's inevitable.""Wow," Stiles whistles, "you are the biggest downer."

A Flooring Romance

Author: rlnerdgirl

Summary: After being steamrolled by some rough and vindictive career competition, Derek is finally getting back on his feet when he and his sister purchase Hale's Hardwood, their very own hardwood flooring shop. To Derek's dismay, some eccentric guy, who goes by Stiles and has a buzz that makes him look ridiculous and far younger than he has to be, opens up a tile shop right across the way.

more fics: part 7

#teenwolf #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #fanfic rec #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski

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expfcultragreen · 3 years ago

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^its a prayer for me to retire to old friends senior gays sanctuary

#cursed video

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joan-deactivated20230204 · 3 years ago

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actual world heritage posts:

john green cock monologue

three weed smoking girlfriends

out of touch thursday

my thrussy???

old friends senior dog sanctuary i just want to get dicked down again =/

jfk was gay asf

end of list

you people will call anything a "world heritage post". 99% of the posts with that tag are just funny. world heritage posts should be posts that actually form a fundamental part of tumblr culture. only the creme de la creme.

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thedaltonsanctuary · 4 years ago

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Welcome MAX ADAMS to the Dalton Sanctuary as a SWITCH RESIDENT. Please send in your blog within the next 48 hours or we will have to reopen your role. You may begin dash activity immediately, no need to wait for anything else once your blog is made.

✎ OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

ALIAS/PRONOUNS: Azi / They/Them AGE: 27 TIMEZONE: PST TRIGGERS: ANYTHING ELSE: Max’s FC - Samira Wiley

✎ IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

NAME: Maxine “Max” Adams AGE/BIRTHDAY: 25 GENDER/PRONOUNS: Genderqueer / She/Her SUB/DOMINANT/SWITCH?: Switch STAFF/RESIDENT/VISITOR?: Resident SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Homoflexible, (mostly gay, sometimes sleeps with men out of convenience) KINKS: Biting, Exhibitionism, Bondage, Pussy worship, Nipple Play, Anal Play ANTI-KINKS: Vore, Gore, Scat, ABDL, Feet, Age Play, Daddy kink, Watersports

✎ BRIEF BIOGRAPHY

Maxine Adams is the middle child of the Adams family, with one older and one younger sibling. Maxine also happened to be the only AFAB child in her family, though not the only girl.

Growing up, Max’s family was the normal ‘nuclear’ style family: Dom father, sub mother, 3 kids, a house with a white picket fence, they even had a dog and a cat, and Max had a lizard. Her parents were accepting and friendly people, and while they had expectations on their kids to do well and be the best person they could be, they didn’t actually expect any specific mark - they just wanted their kids to be happy.

Max being the middle child meant she was kind of.. invisible. Her older brother was the ‘golden boy’, as was typical in most families - he was a jock, student class president, all the typical shit, and Max’s younger sibling, Unique was a talented singer, performer, and really into fashion. Max flew under the radar: did well in school, but wasn’t the top of her class, played field hockey, but wasn’t the best player on the team, her best personality trait being how friendly she was.

In high school, Max came out as gay, and genderqueer, to everyone, and was accepted with open arms. Her best friend even threw a coming out party for her. This best friend also happened to be Max’s first girlfriend, someone she had had feelings for since they were younger, and who she’d known since they were 5 years old. No one was surprised when they started dating. Delilah was Max’s first love… her first a lot of things. They stayed together all through high school, were prom queens in their senior year, and were both marked switch upon graduation. It was a match made in heaven. After high school, Delilah and Max got an apartment together, adopted a cat; Max was convinced that this woman was going to be the one she’d spend the rest of her life with, the woman she would claim, or who would claim her… to her, they were soulmates.

Until one day, Max caught Delilah in bed with their mutual close friend, in their bed. It destroyed her. 18 years of friendship, 7 years of a relationship, in the process of planning their claim ceremony, which was going to be more like a wedding than anything else… all gone just like that. Max found out that Delilah had been sleeping with Charlie for a few years without Max knowing. TW: ALCOHOL ABUSE This sent Max into a bit of a spiral. She was meant to go to graduate school, but instead pulled out just before starting, after a three-day bender involving a lot of vodka and tequila. Max slept with anyone and everyone she could, not giving a shit about the gender, just wanting to feel something other than heartache.

She got booked by the cops one too many times for drunken disorderly, and was given one of two options: 90 days in prison, or be sent to Dalton Sanctuary to sober up and figure out her shit. Max’s parents didn’t give her much of a choice and sent her to Dalton, stating that ‘this isn’t our Maxine…’.

Three months into the program, and she’s still struggling with the pain of her break-up, and the withdrawal from not being able to drink.

#glee rp #glee ds rp #glee smut rp #mature rp #smut rp #sanctuary:admin #accepted

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dawnajaynes32 · 6 years ago

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At the Crossroads of Leaving and Cleaving

Ananias J. Dixon (left) and Jeff Haffner

Stephanie Cargill (left) and Anne McEvoy

Scott Esposito (left) and Stuart Hoffman

By Tom Wachunas

“How do we leave well and how do we cleave well?...It’s about what we owe the ones we love – and what we owe ourselves…about finding the balance between caring for others and allowing ourselves to be cared for…” - from the Director’s Note by Craig Joseph

First, here’s a little background on Canton-based Seat of the Pants Productions. It’s an itinerant band of theatrical storytellers established by Artistic Director Craig Joseph in 2012, with a mission to “…focus all our resources on telling tales, truthfully and beautifully; share compelling narratives in unique spaces and vibrant communities; develop an aesthetic rooted in imaginative staging and human connection.”

That mission has been very well accomplished in Seat of the Pants’ first venture into Cleveland city limits with Craig Joseph directing The End of the Tour, a fascinating tragicomedy by playwright Joel Drake Johnson. There is something oddly appropriate as well as ironic about experiencing this play in a church (Pilgrim Congregational Church, in Tremont). Church – a haven of rest and rescue, a house of solace for troubled souls. And is it not also a place for…confession? As it is, the play happens not in the ornate sanctuary, but in the big, bland expanse of an adjacent, windowless chamber. Life is large and often not pretty.

This is an arresting tale of restive family members and partners desperately navigating their woundedness while floundering in the wreckage of their dysfunctional relationships. Set in Dixon, Illinois (the birthplace of Ronald Reagan), we meet former chanteuse Mae (Anne McEvoy) as she recuperates in a nursing home after breaking her ankle; her recently divorced daughter, Jan (Stephanie Cargill), who urges her estranged, Chicago-based brother, Andrew (Stuart Hoffman), to visit their severely depressed mother. Andrew bickers with his lover, David (Scott Esposito), over the usefulness of such a reunion. Elsewhere, Jan’s ex-husband, Chuck (Ananias J. Dixon) wallows in his kitchen. Fretting obsessively over what to do exactly about his beloved, dying cat, he seeks comfort and counsel from his best friend, Tommy (Jeff Haffner).

Johnson’s writing about the vexing foibles and failures of his characters is remarkable in its sensitivity and insight – an intricate and sometimes indelicate symmetry of illuminating wisdom and dark wit. He doesn’t set out to cure them of their ills, but simply tells their truths. And it’s a marvelously facile ensemble here that brings those characters to life with unflinching, often startling authenticity.

As Mae, Anne McEvoy is riveting as the impatient patient; the brooding and unapologetic matriarch given to explosive fits of anger and insult, or complaining about the theft of her candy and cigarettes by a wandering Alzheimer’s patient named Norma (Chris White). She seems unable or unwilling to resolve the long-festering conflicts with her children, and would much rather sing old standards to over-medicated senior citizens. Meanwhile, Stephanie Cargill is achingly credible as the dutiful but exhausted daughter, Jan, wearied and frustrated by the sheer emotional weight and complexity of her circumstances. In the midst of still processing her divorce, she’s sorely conflicted by caring for the mother she resents.

Stuart Hoffman is equally commanding in his intriguing portrait of gay brother Andrew. Returning to Dixon to finally visit his mother, he carries a heavy load of painful memories from when he was kicked out of his home after coming out in high school. He’s a bit uncomfortable in his own skin - nervous and insecure about publically showing physical affection for his lover. In that role, Scott Esposito is particularly gentle, and might be arguably the most stable character of the bunch, even as he sadly strives to understand why Andrew keeps him literally at arm’s length.

Back where a listless cat lies in a box on a kitchen table, Ananias J. Dixon, as Chuck, is terribly insecure, too. His exchanges with the delightfully wry and earthy Jeff Haffner, as Tommy, are among the play’s most tender and funny, though not without a moment of tearful rage. Watching Dixon agonize over his cat becomes all the more heartbreaking when sensing that it’s maybe his veiled way of finally owning the end his marriage.

At the conclusion of this tour through intersected lives in flux, there was no formula offered, no prescription given for the characters to ultimately find cathartic healing or peace. Call it instead a momentary arrival, a tacit acceptance of life on life’s terms.

Now, back to church, and confession time. Thanks to the expressive intensity of the ensemble’s performance, I began to view the characters not as merely fictive elements in a metaphor, but actual people. And who couldn’t love them? Despite the mess they’d made of their lives, I found myself empathizing with them, rooting for them, hoping the best for them. Good practice for real life. That’s the power of truly compelling theatre.

- Photos by Aimee Lambes -

The End of the Tour / Remaining performances are Friday, April 5th at 8 PM, and Saturday, April 6th at 2 PM and 8 PM. All shows are performed at Pilgrim Congregational Church in Tremont, 2592 West 14th Street, Cleveland. Tickets are $20 and can be purchased at

https://theendofthetour.eventbrite.com or www.seatofthepants.org

Additional information about Seat of the Pants Productions at:

https://seatofthepants.org/about

At the Crossroads of Leaving and Cleaving syndicated post

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