#theaterism

[magickedhat]

                              @theaterism​​   /    continued.

wren couldn’t say what their dream had been about.   it had dispersed like smoke parts for a swinging hand, yet they knew bits of reality had slipped into it as well, a fleeting dream that had started wren into wakefulness, bleary and disoriented.   something moved beside them, twisted and groaned.

wren was on their feet in moments.   light spilled across the room as they flicked a lamp, allowing themself to take in foxtrot’s shape: tangled in blankets like an acrobat with no grace, he jerked and gasped in ways that sent wren’s heart pounding.   they reached for him, an unrestrained instinct, calling his name---only realizing their mistake when tearful eyes stared right through them and trembling hands smacked them away.   wren’s heart skipped a beat, but they remained, and his apologies fell on deaf ears.

“it’s okay!   it didn’t hurt, it’s okay.   god, i---  are you okay?”

their entire body ran on electricity.   a million thoughts raced through their mind at once, of things they ought to do or say on top of things they should not do or say, but at last they climbed onto the tumbled sheets to brush his cheek.   it was sleek with sweat; he was drenched, drowning.  “d’you want me to get you anything?   water, or tea, or---?” 

[aintitfierce]

“immortality” for the drabble meme, for vanya!

drabbles | accepting

‘Immortal’ fits the Pretty Vanya Creature like a dress that is three sizes too big. It’s roomy, too much so, with an unfortunate and absurd amount of space for him to try to fill. And try to fill it, he will, through any means he can think up in the moment. He packs the collar with blooms, pins the skirt in place with heavy silver needles so that its abundant folds fall about his feet instead of engulfing them, and stuffs whatever catches his eye into the generous layers of fabric to make it all seem less comically empty.

The Pretty Vanya Creature is not immortal, the more resentful will grumble, he is lamentably resilient. Stubborn.

There is a memory he has still, or perhaps several memories which have bled together, of sitting perched so complaisantly before Dima in her little abode. She tells him story after story from the security of her stack of hay, tirelessly imparting upon him history and fictions and lies and the occasional gossip (as she does hear everything, after all), and when she is done he kisses her upon her little gaunt cheek and covers her up with her quilt again.

“You will have to go one day, too, Pretty Vanya,” she had said.

Vanya, curled beside her with his legs tucked up neatly to his chest, feeling the wind whistle through the wispy fur of his ears, had only smiled and sighed contentedly.

“Pretty Vanya will go when he wants to.”

[snazzycicada]

[yeehawpim]

a comic about different types of storytellers

[dommnics]

Happy Wicked release day! Hope to see it myself in theatres real soon. Very exciting times!!

--

Check out more of my work on other platforms or buy prints!

My Instagram -- My Twitter -- Buy Prints

[poppitron360]

Easily my favourite moment in Epic

[glitchedcosmos]

🍿!!! Off to the movies !!! 🍿

[wormy-wizard]

I work at a movie theater.

And personally? To be in the tickets booth, and see young girls, teenagers, adult women, coming in to see Barbie,

the most highlighter pink outfits, some of them coming in with the dolls they’re dressed as, laughing to each other, cheering for each other,

to see the men they’re coming to see it with, dressed in pink, cheering them on, taking their pictures with smiles and cheers in the lobby at the photo op

touches something so deep in me

I can’t say any nuances of the movie that haven’t already been said, but like, fuck man, love is so deep and so kind and to be able to see glimpses of it from behind my little ticket desk makes me a little less nihilistic.

[charlesoberonn]

[hagnanimous]

[magnetostits]

the barbenheimer experience i had was so funny i saw oppenheimer first and in a quiet scene we could literally hear ken singing in the theater next to us and then during barbie it when was quiet we could hear a fucking explosion coming from the oppenheimer screening

[magickedhat]

@theaterism​

wren wouldn’t describe themself as a coward.

selfish, however, would fit them like a golden-striped glove.

they’d evaded foxtrot for days.   hidden behind and in-between mirrors, their reflection veiled in the blind corners they’d invented through trial and error and need;  disappearing in the shadow-clad circus paths foxtrot had yet to memorize;  spending long hours hopping between tents, breaking a game or entering a sword fight with a zanni, the harmless metal providing only a breadth of release. 

finding little things from him.   gifts, unsaid messages from his nimble fingers.   stitching their story together until they were sound enough to tell it.

they knew foxtrot was helping in the upcoming play.   as much as they avoided him, the tight-knit circus was no place for secrets, and within a day everyone knew about the new stagehand.   (wren’s boyfriend, but they aren’t seeing each other a lot, have you noticed?---do you think...?---i’m surprised wren has lasted this long.)   they entered the dream palace like slipping into a memory, and they inhaled deeply before finding fox in the grand, impossible auditorium.

“hey,” they said to him, as though they hadn’t seen him in years or in minutes.   they stood between the sheets, the marble wall splitting in half around them.  “can i-- talk to you?   can we go outside?”

[aintitfierce]

@theaterism​: !! your rambling is wonderful absolutely no need to apologize!! all the little details u share abt vanya and his story are iconic and i adore learning abt it agdgd it’s rlly clear how much care u put into it!!

whispers thank you for this ;-; i’ve just been feeling very lonely and inconsequential the past few days, aha ;; and the radio silence kinda brought it to a head, i think ;; i’m very sorry for that, but i am also beyond grateful for the reassurance. thank you again 

[spongebobssquarepants]

[ahotknife]

the thing is that childhood doesn't just end when you turn 18 or when you turn 21. it's going to end dozens of times over. your childhood pet will die. actors you loved in movies you watched as a kid will die. your grandparents will die, and then your parents will die. it's going to end dozens and dozens of times and all you can do is let it. all you can do is stand in the middle of the grocery store and stare at freezers full of microwave pizza because you've suddenly been seized by the memory of what it felt like to have a pizza party on the last day of school before summer break. which is another ending in and of itself