#( I just cherish isabel so much ;w; )

[lausticzt-a]

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭-𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 ◞ 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖊 . ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ @gyofukuki ⤸ ❝ we fight, we die, and we just hope that when our time comes, there is someone else to take our place. ❞ ( from isa )

Spoken like a true member of the Survey Corp it's unusual, coming from the mouth of a street thug. It should infuriate her ( it does, mostly ) but aside from that, Laura finds her gaze wander over, a sharp blink as she fixates on the girl. In her own way, hearing those words stun her into silent observation. It hadn't been long, forgoing the proper etiquette of training, barging their way into the ranks ... impractical. Yet, there's that light in the girl's eyes as she speaks with a certainty that far transcends her. A loud mouth shouldn't speak with wisdom ; they so often were all show, arrogant in the way she despised, irrational and predictable.

Laura has to wonder if she even realises that she speaks with dedication to the regiment. Doubtful it's anything profound from the underground. The captains had gotten into her head, most likely. They had a way of lighting a fire in the hearts of the driven. Laura too had dedication in her heart, however obscure she came across to other soldiers.

A glimpse of understanding, a rare moment she renounces misconceptions to really look at her. Not once had she trusted them, suspicious of their motives; taught to never trust those from the underground. So she'd look down upon them, to question their actions ⸻ never let her guard down, never so easily swayed.

Still, in this moment, Isabel radiated brighter then even their most dedicated soldiers. It's only when Laura is done speculating, having her gaze unyielding regardless of the drawn out silence, does she finally tilt her head up and divert her eyes aimlessly.

❝ Not me. No one's taking my place. ❞ Perhaps it breaks the otherwise pleasant mood, but for Laura she speaks as if her words are fact ( self-centred girl )

[hana-no-seiiki]

yandere! rich! nerd oc x poor! popular! gn! reader short - midnight darling

guess who got recently got accepted into the biology course in ateneo and is binge watching gilmore girls as inspo? (it’s me. on cloud 9 rn augh-) have this as my tiny celebration. been a while since i wrote for midnight darling ehe.

starting our pride month posts w/ our genderfluid masochist nerd who technically is the most popular oc of mine, isaiah/Isabel!

cw/tw: bullying, harassment, toxic parents

status: unedited and rushed af

“Papatayin na talaga kita.”

You weren’t always the perfect pristine popular student. Acting didn’t come to you naturally. You had to learn through trial and error; through fire and metal. You didn’t always had an iron grip over your emotions and what slipped through.

As such, at that moment you first met Isaiah — who now went by another name — you couldn’t help but shower them with the hostility of cat seeing another enter its territory.

“I - I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to —!”

“When I make promises, I follow through with them.” You covered their mouth before he could even complete his stupid waste of an excuse, “I promised to bring you hell when you broke my project last semester, and I did.”

You recount the days you spent making sure Isaiah experienced true suffering; getting rid of their friends, destroying his family’s fortunes, putting his reputation through the mud and stomping on it til it bleeds so that even if you did nothing the rest of the students in your school would do the job for you.

But even then…

“I promised to the entire student body — to this entire school that I will be the one that uplifts it. That I will make it known throughout the country as the one that miraculously got a student to Mediasnoches.”

Tears escaped your eyes. How long has it been since the last time you legitimately cried? It had been so long that you started to think you were simply completely incapable of it. How could you cry when you were too busy to even feel? Hours and hours spent on studying, making notes, reviewing those notes at least ten times, making flashcards and schedules, drowning yourself in extracurriculars. Your schedule just didn’t have space to be a sobbing mess.

“I promised my mom and dad . . . na kahit ano man mangyari — ma . . .matatanggap . . . “ Your hand slipped and fell to your side. You legs give up, and any semblance of calm left your visage.

Your face covered in snot and tears was an unfamiliar sight to your classmate. He who had studied it day and night, hated it, loved it, cherished it. He had no doubt it was the most beautiful he had ever seen you been. But the problem was that he wasn’t the reason you were like this. At least not completely. It was their stupid parent’s fault for influencing the results.

His arms encircled your form as he cooed.

“I’ll … give up my spot for you okay? Don’t cry. You deserve it alright? I don’t. I’m just a kid with too much money on their hands like you said…”

So, until the time they could make you cry with their actions and their actions alone, your sobs had to stop.

[ TRANSLATIONS ] :

Papatayin na talaga kita — I will really (fucking) kill you.

Na kahit ano man mangyari — That whatever happens

Matatanggap — Will be accepted

[little-birdseeker]

Ashes to the sea

((Continuation of the story with her sister. You can find the previous parts here: 1 2 3 4 5))

Isabelle took a deep breath. The slow waves that rolled over the beach were calming as ever. What did her parents teach her? You will always be at home if you know where the sea is. Sang had told her the same every now and then. Probably. She should have listened to him more often… But it sounded like something he would say!

Since the incident a few days have passed. The incident that robbed Isabelle from her dear sister. Since Wickid had talked to her in her room. And she had been veeery busy since then! Who else would have prepared her sisters funeral but her? She herself had sent the invitations to various people in Kugane, who had known Iana. She had chosen the urn she was carrying right now, containing the ashes of her sister. She had sewn the dress she was wearing right now, just for this occasion. A simple dress, nothing to fancy for this sad event. From the distance it might appear black, but in reality, it was just a very dark shade of red. The darkest Isabelle was able to find in Kugane.

And now, everyone was gathered around the pier of Shirogane. Some of those who had known Iana and some of the free company. And Isabelle, of course, who slowly walked towards the water, the small urn tightly clasped with her arms, before she turned around to the crowd.

“Uhm… uh…” With a cute “Uhum” she cleared her throat and took a glance over the people. Looked at Azura, who gave her a soft smile. At Wickid, standing beside his wife - certainly not very comfortable in the clothes Azura had made him wear - gave a short nod, which was more than Isabelle could have asked him for.

“So… we have gaaathered here today to say goodbye to Iaaana Birdseeker, my deeear sister. Born 26 yeeears ago, she was the fiiirst child of our parents, Luuuca and Miaaara Birdseeker. She had aaalways been kind to the people around her aaand had taken care of meee and our brother. She learned how to weeeave from dad and showed an oooutstanding talent in it. Liiike me, she helped dad with vaaarious jobs and made some amaaazing outfits for aaall of us. I would stiiill wear them, but I am nooot as small as the yoooung me was back then…”

Isabelle gave of a small shigh, remembering her dress back then. When she returns home… maaaybe she could give it a try? Maybe…

“Uhm, aaanyway. I dooon’t know much about her life aaafter I have left Limsa behind, but as I have heeeard, she has continued improving her skills and eeeven got a job here in Kugane! She had aaall reason to be proud of herself! But after achieving aaall of this, a voooidsent got hold of her body and stooole her aether. Aaall i could do was getting r-riiid of it, but Iaaana… w-we looost her on that very day. I h-h-hope she can reeest well now, knowing that the v-v-voooidsent is gone for good. A-a-and I will cherish her l-laaast words forever! ‘I-isabeeelle. H-how could I have n-n-nooot seen what a f-fiiine young lady you have b-become…?’, s-she had said. I… I had a-a-aaalways hoped she would a-a-acknooowledge me someday, b-but… n-n-nooot like this!”

Big tears were rolling down Isabelles cheeks, dropping down onto her chest. Why? She wasn’t supposed to cry now! She had told herself again and again not to cry. So why… It still hurt. So much. So so so much. She pressed the urn tightly into her stomach, lamenting over the loss, all the time she had lost with her sister who would not come back again. Isabelle couldn’t remember anything of the speech she had prepared for this day. All that was left were the emotions she couldn’t hold back at all. The memories of her sister. The good ones, the bad ones… and there was nothing left to do than to shout, whatever came to her mind.

“I know, I-iaaana h-hasn’t been the b-beeest person in the w-world! Yes, sh-sh-she miiight have been rude at times, b-b-but we aaall are, right?! N-n-nooobody is perfect! A-a-and she has a-a-aaalways been a kind p-p-person!! She has a-a-aaalways done her b-b-best to b-be there f-f-for meee or R-ruuuun, h-has heeelped me w-w-when I h-had aaasked her f-f-for help and e-e-eeeverything! She h-has been a gooood p-person! I-i-i knooow it! Sh-she did nooot deseeerve this end!! Sh-she did nooot deserve it!!”

Everyone could hear the big sniff from Isabelle, after she had shouted all her emotions into the breeze, which seemed to emerge from the crying girl on the pier and blow over the crowd. All of them could feel the lament of the young girl.

After a moment of silence and grief, Isabelle was finally able to regain her composure, although she could not stop her tears completely. But it did not matter. It had to be done! “A-and theeerefore! L-let us say g-goodbyyye to her now! L-let us praay for her, so Llymlaaaen can n-navigate her saaafely back home over the sea and baaack to H-hydaelyn! May you reeest in peace, Iaaana!!”

Slowly, Isabelle walked towards the end of the pier. She opened the urn, grabbing a handful of the ashes of her sister and she threw it into the ocean. The ash scattered in the wind, fell down onto the calm sea and sank. Hand after hand was thrown into the sea, until the urn was empty and Iana was gone. Forever. Gone to the sea she had loved so much.

For a while, Isabelle watched the waves of the ocean, where the remains of her sister had vanished. Why her? Why now? Why? It wasn’t fair, life wasn’t fair! There had to be a way, she could still be-

She felt a strong hand on her right shoulder. “I know what you’re thinkin’ about. I told ya, i’m familiar with it…” Wickid. She had not forgotten his story. “B-buuut-”, she wanted to start and looked up to his head, but was interrupted immediately. “No but. You did everything you could, didn’t ya? And you said it yourself: she was proud of ya, i heard it myself. You even organized this, barely slept… just for her sake. But you have to let her go. Treasure her memories, but accept the reality. And if you need some help…” The highlander looked at her with a smile, which was as hard to see as ever, as his beard was far too bushy. But Isabelle literally felt his smile, and knew he was right. “...okay. Thaaank you, Wickid.” He did not say anything more. Just nodded. As he always did.

“Isa, dear”, Isabelle could hear Azura, as she came back from the pier, together with Wickid. “You can’t imagine how proud I am of you. Oh, don’t be ashamed because of those tears, honey, but isn’t it normal to cry on such occasions? It was your sister, after all. Come here, everything is fine.” As always when she needed her, Azura knew what was going on in her mind and didn’t even let Isabelle speak or oppose the incoming hug, which she gladly accepted. “It’s okay, sweety, it’s okay. But as I said, I am really proud of you. You did it all by yourself and you have gone through with it until the very end. You did very well, believe me.”

Isabelle did not answer. Instead, she buried her face in Azuras chest while still hugging her as tight as she could. “There, there”, Azura said while stroking Isabelles head. “How about we go back home, drink some tea, change our clothes… and this evening, we do the thing we talked about, you remember?” Isabelle nodded slowy. She hadn’t forgotten. How could she? She had to do it. She had promised it. Herself, and Azura too. But that was later. For the moment, she just wanted to cry.

((But wait, there is more! The final part of this story can be found here!)

[dcehyuns-blog]

• — [ kim taehyung / cis male / he / him  ]  ┆‹ ❝ oh, them? that’s daehyun park, one of vivienne’s precious sixteen. they’re known around here as a hawkeye, which works since they’re intelligent but also hedonistic. let’s hope they mess up soon, so another one can rise. ❞ ›

hello ya’ll !! sliding in risky business style to give you this chaotic as hell intro post because that’s what i’m good at !! my name is caitlyn, in 24,i live in cst and i’m so beyond exited to be here !! i will say that i’m really good at playing semi-trashy characters, and daehyun is really no different than that ?? in fact hes,,,, pretty yikes !! but i also live for anything pain and angst involved ?? ig i just love to hurt my babies ?? anyways, under the cut is some basic stats and a bit about tae’s personality. you can find his full bio right HERE ( it’s long, just a fair warning. ) & a basic list of wanted plots for him right HERE as well !!

feel free to like this and i’ll slide into your dms for plotting, or if you’d like, you can ask me for my discord because to be honest, i do tend to respond there a little bit quicker than i do on tumblr but i will be on most the evening !! can’t wait to start writing with ya’ll !! anyways, on to the important things !!

basic stats.

full name: park daehyun.

nickname(s): dae, hyun ( his mom made it sound like “hon” though ).

age: twenty-three.

date of birth: october 31st.

zodiac sign: scorpio.

place of birth: seoul, south korea.

gender: cismale.

sexual orientation: bisexual.

romantic orientation: bisexual.

religion: n/a.

language(s) spoken: english, korean, french, spanish, welsh, russian, japanese, italian, romanian, greek, gaelic and bulgarian.

physical appearance.

face claim: kim taehyung.

hair color: ever changing. ( currently silver )

eye color: brown.

height: 6′ 0″.

weight: 225 lbs.

build: athletic.

personality & traits.

label: the hedonist.

positive traits: charismatic, venturesome, intelligent, outgoing.

negative traits: hedonistic, impulsive, cocky, flirtatious.

fears: claustrophobia.

hobbies: playing video games, reading books / comics, boxing, pool, soccer, football, working out, playing guitar, playing piano, cooking, hiking, camping, fishing, golf.

quirks: believes in karma, fights for animal rights, fights for gender equality, fights for human rights, fights for marriage equality, wears mismatched socks ( sometimes ), counts stairs, plays with fire, plays a musical instrument, boxes, enjoys nature, tells the truth / can be brutally honest, uses bad puns whenever possible.

family.

father: park heonwoo.

mother: baek jisu.

adoptive father: graham james reed.

adoptive mother: isabel rose reed.

pet(s): none.

financial status: upper class.

tests.

myers-briggs: entp-a ( the debater )

enneagram: type 8 ( the challenger. )

moral alignment: lawful evil. ( the dominator. )

temperament: choleric.

hogwarts house: slytherin.

personality.

hides behind a wall of sarcasm, cockiness, anger and lust.

doesn’t really care to get to know people and had a tendency to push people away before they get too close to him. because he really… doesn’t want to get hurt again & doesn’t want to put them @ risk.

wears glasses to read and mess w computers, but hates them a lot and probably won’t wear them if people are around.

wears a shit ton of suits???? but also wears tf out of jeans, v-necks, sweats, leather jackets and anything that makes him look like your typical fuckboi ?? it’s kinda his aesthetic.

is …. stubborn as hell and refuses to ask for help with anything.

his cars are literally his babies ??? like he ?? has a problem ??

a hotmess

loves halloween so much?? even though it’s his birthday?? he gets so hype for that holiday it’s unreal.

fluent in a lot of languages, picked them up so that he didn’t need translators at meetings and the likes.

lowkey worried that people will figure out that he’s actually v hurt inside because that’ll cause him to start having to deal with his feelings again, and he doesn’t wanna do that.

is the biggest flirt you will ever meet?? like if he’s speaking 2 u… its usually flirty as hell unless it has 2 do w business or he’s just known u for centuries ?

will try to get everyone to go to bars n parties with him because that’s his life in a nutshell ??

hella nerd on the inside though like owns so many comic books, loves to play video games, read books, plays piano / gutair & all that jazz.

super, super intelligent. could probably work @ nasa but instead he decided to do what he does & he honestly… ain’t complaining.

drinks..heavily..  like every night?? it’s a problem tbh.

he cares… god he cares so much about people and the world but he pretends to hate everything because it’s easier than letting people in.

full of horrible and cheesy pick up lines and jokes and frequently texts people said pick up lines and jokes.

owns a book that is full of nothing but blank pages and keeps it on his coffee table because he ‘relates’ to it.

is a highkey hoe but he keeps it on the dl

super into fitness as it’s a way to keep him away from drinking every evening.

loves boxing so much and can be seen at the gym quite a bit.. also has bruised knuckles 24/7 because of it as it’s a way to take out his aggression and feelings out on a punching bag?? esp whenever he hasn’t gotten a 'mission’ in a while

actually super kind and caring once you’re able to see get past his wall?? which is really hard to do due to his job but if u do it he’ll cherish u.

is one of those people who’s instagram feed is nothing but pictures of his dogs, suits, cars & food.

has a bad habit of smoking whenever he’s stressed out, which is usually all of the time so he smokes…. more than he should

will also talk about his dogs more often than he talks about his life.

highkey into cuddling and all the cute shit like that but would literally never tell a soul because then they’d see that he isn’t such a hardass.

is a burnt cupcake who has really good intentions but has EXTREMELY horrible execution skills. ( and no i don’t mean the violent kind bc he’s actually v good @ that )

[yeaharrys]

Finding Finley / Chapter Three

“Oh Finley, when was the last time you seriously dated someone? You’re almost 24, I’m just trying to jump start something!”

“Wow, I didn’t know being 23 and single is a crime now.”

For Finley O'Connor, love comes second, much to her mother’s dismay. For Harry Styles, life couldn’t revolve without love. When the pair are set up on a blind date, they make a pact to help each other get the thing that is apparently missing from their lives. But how long will it take for them to realise what truly is missing?

A story about being 23, blind dates, and finding who you truly are.

read on wattpad or read on tumblr

Chapter Three: The Friend Request

Saturday mornings were my favourite. It was my one of my only chances of being completely alone in my flat and therefore one of my only chances of solitude. So, despite the fact that I rolled into bed in a drunken state not long after midnight after walking home from the station, I still forced my tired self out of bed when my alarm chirped at 7am.

In theory, having a flatmate seems like an awesome idea. You have someone to split rent and bills costs, someone to help with the household chores, someone to come home to. In practice, however, it's not so simple. Alice was my flatmate, and calling her intense would be putting it lightly. I found her advertisement for a flatmate in the local paper and on a whim decided to follow up on it. The flat was great, good location and spacious. I signed on to the one year lease with her almost immediately. This is something I would come to regret in the following weeks.

Alice was a clean freak. A no-food-in-the-bedroom, no-drinks-without-a-coaster, no-items-in-the-cupboard-without-a-label type of clean freak. And while it was endearing at first, five months later and I was almost always on edge when I was at home. One thing out of place, and Alice would be shooting me daggers and making my life all that much crappier for the rest of the week. So, that's why I came to cherish Saturday mornings. Alice always worked the Saturday morning shift at one of the local cafés so that meant I had until 12pm to relax around the flat before going to hole myself up in my room for the rest of the week, the only relatively Alice-free zone.

I shuffled into the immaculately clean kitchen and grabbed the loaf of sliced bread from the freezer (labelled WHOLEGRAIN, EXP: 18 SEP 2017) and threw two pieces into the toaster before boiling some water. A good cup of tea would immediately scrub the hazy state my mind was currently in. Whilst I wasn't hungover, the shots last night meant I woke up with a small ache in the back of my head. The lack of sleep probably didn't help either.

Once my tea was sufficiently brewed and my toast coated in peanut butter (EXP: 11 JAN 2018), I settled myself on the lounge and pulled up my laptop. The real reason I loved Saturday mornings so much was that it was one of my only peaceful, distraction-free times to write. Script writing to be specific. It started as a topic of interest when I began to expand my film watching horizons as a teen, and three elective classes at uni later had me hooked. I was completely enamoured with the fact that every great movie started with a great script. Whilst it was just a hobby, I couldn't help but love crafting and blocking out scenes of my wildest imaginations. And whilst writing had become an important part of my life, I preferred to keep my hobby on the down low. This made those few hours of being home alone all that more precious. These past few weeks I had been re-working my own version of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. After spending a lonely Friday night watching it on Netflix I was struck with inspiration and decided to take the characters into my own hands.

Whilst munching on my toast, I clicked through and deleted any unimportant emails, checked my iMessage as I couldn't be bothered getting my phone from my bedside table and logged onto Facebook. I made it a point to check my social media, mainly as my mum insisted on tagging me in as many posts as possible and if I didn't promptly reply I would have a phone call from her asking why I was ignoring her.

This morning there was only 2 notifications. And, to my surprise, a friend request. I clicked on the illuminated red (1) and audibly laughed when I saw who it was. Harry Styles. I pressed accept without hesitation, and against better judgement, clicked onto his profile.

I caught myself smiling as his full profile loaded up. His profile picture featured him grinning cheekily at the camera, his arm thrown around a boy with blonde hair who was gripping a pint of beer. I scrolled down his page, various photos and posts littering his wall. I saw the same three or four faces cropping up with Harry, it definitely looked like he had a close knit group of friends.

I had scrolled all the way back to 2014 when I saw a picture of Harry with a girl. A quick glance at who was tagged confirmed that it was Isabel. Gorgeous was an understatement. Her hair, a light shade of brown with a perfect amount of golden highlights, was cascading down over one of her shoulders. She was wearing a simple red dress, but on her it looked tailor made. It was a candid shot, both of them looking into each others eyes with their faces split into laughing grins. You could feel the love radiating from them both just from looking at the photo. It was almost hard to believe that two years later they would be broken up.

I was just about to close the tab when a message box popped up at the bottom of the page. I almost spilt my tea when I saw who it was, like he knew I had just spent the past 20 minutes thoroughly combing through his Facebook profile.

Harry Styles: well hello there, early riser

I chuckled to myself, my fingers hovering over the keys as I formulated a response.

Finley O'Connor: hello stranger. same can be said to you, i'm surprised you are awake after all those shots

Harry Styles: you may be shocked to hear that i can actually handle my alcohol

Harry Styles: i was almost afraid you weren't going to accept my friend request

Finley O'Connor: i'll be honest, i almost didn't accept based on the fact that you had already found my profile without me even telling you my full name last night. stalker abilities on point?

Harry Styles: hahahaha

Harry Styles: i will also be honest, i knew your last name before we even met last night. your aunty basically gave my mum your birth certificate lol

Harry Styles: i also may have stalked you on fb before last night. felt like i shouldnt add you until i met you though, didn't want to be a creep

Finley O'Connor: ah, so that's how you knew who i was when i walked in last night. creep status has definitely achieved

Harry Styles: oh don't act like you havent just been stalking my profile

Harry Styles: i know i have on yours. did you enjoy tea at the langham last month?

I laughed. At least I felt a little better about my shameless Facebook stalking.

Finley O'Connor: omg

Finley O'Connor: how do i block people on facebook???

Finley O'Connor: just kidding. i scrolled back to 2014 so beat that

I decided to move from the lounge to my favourite writing spot, the dining table. At this time of the morning, the sun was always at the perfect angle to warm my back as I typed away. I settled into the chair, opening up the Word Doc containing my work in progress. Before I could type a word though, the Facebook message tone blipped.

Harry Styles: find anything interesting?

I contemplated for a moment whether I should mention the Isabel photo. Considering how candid Harry ended up being about his relationship last night, I figured it wasn't unapproachable territory.

Finley O'Connor: yes, actually. an old photo of you and isabel

I stared expectantly at the small chat box, waiting for the dots to appear to signify he was responding. The seconds ticked by and I began chewing my lip. Perhaps a wrong move? I clicked back to my half written script, trying not to fixate on something so small. However, when the message tone pinged again a couple minutes later, I scrambled to click back to the page.

Harry Styles: yeah there's still a few photos scattered through there, ones she hasn't deleted yet anyways

I didn't know how to respond. I could sense it was still a touchy subject, not that I blamed him. But, he ended up responding for me.

Harry Styles: speaking of....

Harry Styles: we're you serious about what you suggested last night? i know we were both a little tipsy...

I raised my eyebrows. I had forgotten about the drunken pact we had made on the Croydon platform late last night. I actually had some second-hand embarrassment from the idea I had hatched, why did I even think it was a good idea?

Finley O'Connor: oh that pact thing? we don't actually have to do that lol. just a bit of a laugh you know

Harry Styles: what?? no i already have someone in mind to set you up with

Now it was my turn to delay a response. Was he being serious? Was this something I should actually involve myself into? I mean, I had met Harry once and all of the sudden I'm supposed to trust his taste in men for me? And on top of that, he's supposed to trust me to help him win back his ex-girlfriend? I was half-wishing I could've just kept my drunken mouth shut last night.

Harry Styles: hello?? fin?????

Finley O'Connor: i mean.... if you're really serious about it, then sure

I hoped I wasn't going to live to regret this.

Harry Styles: brilliant

Harry Styles: wanna grab a coffee? discuss logistics??

My eyes flickered over to the time displayed in the top left hand corner of my laptop. It had just ticked past 8am, meaning I had 4 hours of non-Alice time ahead of me. Coffee would cut into that. I sighed as I clicked back over to my half-written script, my eyes skimming over the last few lines I had typed out. I guess I could miss my writing session for one week.

Finley O'Connor: have somewhere in mind?

apologies for a short chapter, i decided to split it up, hopefully this wasn’t too boring for you?? let me know your thoughts! thanks for reading :)

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: A Play About Metalheads and Metal Hearts

La Mélancolie des dragons (2017) (all photos by Martin Argyroglo, courtesy the Kitchen)

Pete Townsend once said in an interview that what made rock and roll so interesting to him was the challenge of making something elaborate and interesting happen within the strict and simple structure of the format’s four walls. As maligned as it might be as a genre, heavy metal is one of the more fun examples of this challenge being taken on. The metalheads that populate La Mélancolie des dragons — a delightful play from director Philippe Quesne and Vivarium Studio which recently had a run at the Kitchen — all display the inventiveness of which Townsend speaks within the four walls of the stage and the simple construct of the play.

Before the play starts, the gathering audience can make out four figures gesticulating and drinking in a Volkswagen Rabbit with a little trailer attached behind it. The play properly begins as soon as the first power chords of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” send this motley crew driving into the night in a flurry of head banging and fist pumping to a handful of heavy metal classics — from AC/DC to Iron Maiden to Scorpions, with some French metal thrown in for good measure. The good times stop their rolling when engine trouble lands the gang at the edge of a snowy forest. It’s not so bad, though. In fact, it’s an idyllic spot for the four metalheads to drift into a slumber to Scorpions’ power ballad, “Still Loving You.” And then, along came Isabelle.

A curious local woman, Isabelle, happens upon the sleeping foursome. After waking them up, we find out they have three more friends sleeping in the trailer they’re hauling. After Isabelle’s failed attempt to fix their engine and her ineffectual call to the local mechanic, it turns out these characters are going to have some time to kill. It also turns out that the men have something to share with Isabelle, a project they’ve been working on — a dream really. It is, of course, a heavy metal amusement park. Would it be OK if they tell Isabelle about their ideas? “Yes,” Isabelle assures them. “Yes, it would.”

And this is where the wonder begins. This is also the part where I tell you that it’s as far as plot and character go. A car breaks down. A local appears. A dream is displayed. This doesn’t sound like much, but the couple times I cried and the two-handed devil horns I thrust toward the sky at the end of the show would beg to differ.

But back to the wonder. The crew pulls down three of the side walls of the trailer, transforming it into a little stage with a handful of long-haired-rocker wigs hanging from the ceiling, and they invite Isabelle to be in the center of all the action. They bring out a fog machine, stage lights and a fan for blowing the hair on the wigs around for that 80s video feel. A tarp that had previously been lain on the ground is repurposed as a balloon by filling it with air from the same fan that had been used to blow fog moments before. The billowing surface suddenly has an unexpected beauty to it. Just as I am thinking this Isabelle echoes my feelings by saying, “So touching.” Yes, it was.

In La Mélancolie des dragons (2017), the characters show off one of the attractions they’ve constructed.

And there were more visual and musical treats in store. The balloon is carried about the stage in a way that is inexplicably moving. There are many things that are inexplicably moving. Sometimes it’s the metalheads’ insistence on asking Isabelle’s permission to show her their next idea. (“Isabelle? Isabelle.” was like a refrain I couldn’t get out of my head the next day.) A shift to classical music is used for epic effect a few times, the best moment being when Isabelle climbs a ladder and all the elements were brought together — the fog machine, the fan, and bubble machine — soaring up to envelop Isabelle as though she is being shot in a dramatic film set in the Himalayas.

There is also a dark side that the crew wants to show Isabelle. The oldest metalhead assures her that it will be a little scary, but not too much. Four large black balloons, as tall as the set, are filled with air and walked to the back of the stage, completely blocking most of the light that had been shining through the trees. Naturally, the fog machine is put into use. Shadows, light and fog, and standing before it is Isabelle in all her awe. She says, “It’s possible to disappear.” And we do. Elaborate and interesting things had happened in the most basic of boxes. Thanks, guys. Thanks, Isabelle.

The audience knew they had witnessed something so magical that they didn’t want the actors to leave the stage. They didn’t want to leave this imaginary amusement park. I overheard a woman behind me say, “I want to see it again. Right now.”

I didn’t want it to end either. And then, much to my delight, it didn’t. The play followed me out into the rainy night. As I made my way across the intersection at Tenth Avenue and 19th Street I heard music coming from inside a car parked near the corner. When I got closer I realized that somebody was blasting Poison’s “Nothin’ But A Good Time.” I paused in absolute wonder. Then I walked to the subway thinking about the person in the car and about what their dreams might have been. As Bret Michaels sings, “And it don’t get better than this.” Exuent.

The idea of freedom being simply able to roll down the highway in two tons of steel with your friends is an important one in metal. The image of metalheads driving and head banging mindlessly might be what it looks like to the outsider, but inside the car it’s a place of safety,  fellowship, and sometimes heated debate (which Iron Maiden was better: the Bruce Dickinson or Paul Di’Anno version?). This is the visual image with which La Mélancolie des dragons begins, and the soundtrack to the camaraderie was probably mainstream enough that even the least metalheaded in the audience were familiar with some of the tunes. However, to the boys in the broken down Volkswagen, I’d like to recommend a handful of bands who might be a little more off the road.

Roxxcalibur

A NWOBHM (New Wave of British Heavy Metal) tribute band has to be the dodgiest musical idea ever. And yet, Roxxcalibur is a complete success. NWOBHM was a musical movement in Great Britain in late 1970s and early 1980s that featured fast guitars and a heightened melodic sensibility. Most metalheads cherish this era, so one false move and Roxxcalibur could easily have gone down the tubes. There are no false moves though. Not one. Just a glorious guitar gallop down NWOBHM’s cherished past.

Jaguar

More NWOBHM! But this time, the real stuff. This NWOBHM crew from Bristol practically gave birth to speed metal. Great riffs and Garry Peppard’s insanely fast guitar leads kept Jaguar prices high on Ebay and their influence deep and wide in all genres of metal over the years. In 2011, Buried By Time and Dust Records released a live outing from 1982, Axe Crazy In Holland. I can barely sit still when I have the thing on my turntable. Playing almost impossibly out of control, the band somehow keeps the whole thing from toppling over again and again. It’s a thrilling ride.

Chastain

Guitarist David Chastain is a dazzling technician, and his solo instrumental albums are a blast. However, the records that he made with his eponymous band, Chastain, are where the fun really begins — especially the ones when Leather Leone is his singer and chief collaborator. The guitarist gets to keep his pyrotechnics but Leather brings the party and she brings the party hard. It’s a match made in the happiest of helldoms.

Manilla Road

Manilla Road is for that secret place in your heart where you know you’ve wasted your time here on earth, because you didn’t spend it dropping acid with biker gangs and contracting syphilis. Manila Road’s heaviness is more a sum of its parts than a singular thing that can be pointed to. They’ve worked the underground and the back roads for a long time, never quite achieving anything close to mainstream success and very much not caring. Rock and roll, man.

Scorpions (early)

Yes, the boys in the Volkswagen and the trailer were headbanging to the later, more hit-heavy version of Scorpions, but I’ve always found the band at its most endearing when guitar madman, Uli Roth, was with them from 1973 through 1977. In fact, I ignored Scorpions for decades until I discovered the Uli years. That’s when I worked my way forward in their catalogue and fell in love with everything. Uli was my gateway drug. If you’ve ever wondered what a dark rainbow would sound like when it’s applied to a power chord, this is where to start.

La Mélancolie des dragons played at the Kitchen (512 W 19th Street, Chelsea, Manhattan) January 10–14. It will play at the Wexner Center for the Arts (1871 N High Street, Columbus, OH) January 19–22 and then at the Walker Art Center (725 Vineland Place, Minneapolis, MN) January 26–28.

The post A Play About Metalheads and Metal Hearts appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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