No More Candy is charming and adorable, even as its characters work through very heavy traumas. by Suzette Smith The first two things you'll notice about No More Candy—the latest from prolific local playwright Mikki Gillette—are 1) the queer cuties on the cover of the program and 2) the content warning.  These are actually apt indicators of what to expect because the production is somehow charming and adorable, even as its characters work through very heavy traumas, like rape, incest, transphobia, and self harm. Your mileage for wanting to engage with these subjects will vary, but to quote the person sitting behind us, "I'm here for it." No More Candy is a hero's / healing journey that explores the bond between two queer punks in their early college years. Desiree (Ethan Feider) and Belinda (Jody Reed) initially meet at a party neither wants to be at, overshare their way into hanging out, and eventually become instrumental in each other's respective coping processes. From the jump, the conversation is as awkward as you might expect from two people who readily admit they're being awkward. Belinda rattles off rants and compliments the fiery takedowns Desiree delivers in their Women's Studies class. Initially it felt like Reed was reciting their lines too quickly, but the delivery works for the character. The way Gillette's lines flow feels more informed by TV performance than the ponderous pauses of a stage drama. Phrases like "my brain is a haunted house," occur without flourish. Quips like "I yell at my therapist instead of listening," punch out of a waterfall of dialogue and are gone. But it only makes the characters more relatable. Similarly, the scenes occur very quickly—in the neighborhood of 3-10 minutes a piece. Turnarounds like that feel really ambitious, but they unfolded seamlessly. Bursts of Bikini Kill and Sleater-Kinney buffered the transitions, allowing the supporting cast time to quickly move chairs and tables into the next arrangement. The production benefits from an ongoing writer / director collaboration between Gillette and Salt and Sage's Asae Dean, who has also directed works by Gillette, like The Queers and My Perfectly Valid Objections. No More Candy takes its name from the chorus of "Jet Ski," a Bikini Kill song Gillette likes, and that bold, assertive energy suffuses the work. Neither Desiree nor Belinda have any more kindness for the takers in their lives. Final content warning: The play has a lot of shouting. The settling of scores and scrimmaging with monsters is something many brand new adults face as they work to grow towards their more-actualized selves. These are topics Gillette has handled before; she's growing a solid audience of fans who appreciate not only her talent, but her dedication to telling stories of queer and trans peoples' lives. With No More Candy, she's also touching on universal material that will probably resonate with anyone questioning authority or getting ready to take the world by storm.  No More Candy plays at 21Ten Theatre, 2110 SE 10th, through Sun Oct 27, visit saltandsagepdx.com for tickets and showtimes, runtime is 100 minutes with no intermission, content warning for rape, incest, transphobia, and self harm.