#those flappers are a menace

[jeena-says-hi]

Chris: Why are you hiding in the hippo sub?

Martin: I wanted to see what would happen if I taped a knife to a Guinea fowl flapper

Chris: Okay. and?

Martin: I went to put the tape away and when I turned back around it was gone. I haven't seen it since.

(Five minutes later)

Aviva, walking into the room: Why are you both hiding in the hippo sub?

Chris: RUN AWAY AVIVA, RUN AWAY! IT'S OUT FOR BLOOD!

[boricuacherry-blog]

F. Scott Fitzgerald found dramatic inspiration in his life with wife Zelda Fitzgerald. His fourth and final novel, Tender is the Night, was based almost entirely on his relationship with Zelda. It tells the story of a psychiatrist who marries his own mentally ill patient, who just happens to be an heiress. They move to France together and live a life of excess, but his wife's illness eventually leads him to ruinous alcoholism and leaves his career in tatters.

Christina Ricci, the actress who stars in the Amazon biographical series Z: The Beginning of Everything and plays Zelda Fitzgerald, known for her beauty and high spirits - her husband said she was the first American flapper - but also her struggle with mental illness and alcoholism.

Ricci however says it's a common misconception about Zelda: "that she was this alcoholic crazy woman who ruined F. Scott Fitzgerald's life, and if not for her he would have had a great life." It's an idea that was popularized by Ernest Hemingway, but the actress says, "he was a huge misogynist." The truth, she claims, is much more complicated.

What Zelda loved in Scott Fitzgerald was that he recognized her talent for writing, and felt being his muse would lead to having her own career. But theirs was a dysfunctional marriage. It turned out that he wasn't comfortable with her achieving any success close to his. It was a very competitive relationship. And no matter what she tried to do, she was never allowed to be anything more than his wife, and that wasn't enough for her. And it ultimately led to a nervous breakdown.

Born in 1900 in Montgomery, Zelda was the heroine for many of Scott's novels. "The dominant influences on F. Scott Fitzgerald were aspiration, literature, Princeton, alcohol and Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald," wrote Matthew J. Bruccoli in his book, A Brief Life of Fitzgerald.

A painter, ballet enthusiast and writer herself, Zelda published her first and only novel called 'Save me the Waltz' in 1932, which is said to have irked Scott, who cited similarities between the novel and his own unpublished work.

A critic described her prose as "brilliantly uneven; her flights are high and wild, and the form draws its strength from the enigmatic appeal of the fragment. Her descriptions are full of movement: often inanimate objects take on an overvivid and dangerous life. Flowers and food can turn disorienting or menacing in the blink of an eye, like when she wrote, 'those crawling flowers and venomous vindictive blossoms without organization or rhythm but with the power to sting and strangle...,' and love and horror mix themselves as well; she describes her beloved ballet teacher's brown eyes as 'like the purple bronze footpaths through an autumn beech wood where the mold is drenched with mist, and clear fresh lakes spurt up above your feet from the loam.'"

[malfoygrass]

i just want some possessive draco fluff 😍

The first time they went clubbing together...

Draco knew rebellion wasn’t a foreign concept for Astoria Greengrass. She might not be the type to flaunt her darker nature like her sister, but Astoria had been rebelling against the system from within since long before the Grffindoors of his age made it look cool.

He hadn’t been surprised to learn Daphne’s sister had dropped out of Hogwarts after the grand battle with intentions of more or less home-school herself with the best private tutors her inheritance could buy, until she was eligible for an apprenticeship in Gringotts. The castle held too many memories, and Astoria liked to pretend she wasn’t broken. Too much false bravado, Draco could relate.

What HAD surprised him was her new choice of lodgings, not that Astoria would ever live somewhere unworthy of the daughter of a pureblood house but the luxury suite she’d rented for the foreseeable future in the upscale muggle London hotel was almost too on the nose for his taste. She was becoming a walking cliche, walking out of her family home and disapearing into the nightlife of the muggle world to party her guilty conscience away.

Everyone knew this rebellious phase of hers would eventually pass. Astoria wasn’t actually angry inside. Just tired and lost, which was why nobody was worried about her, nobody but Draco.

“Oh come on you’ll love it, please, wear a costume” Astoria laughed adjusting her Flapper girl headband “What’s the point in visiting me in my den of iniquity if you wont join me at the club”

Draco rolled his eyes taking her in “This isn’t a den of iniquity Astoria, it’s a toy playhouse and you know it, I don’t see the appeal those muggles have for you”

“Oh posh you sound like mother, well, have it your way, I’m going to the club costume part and I’m..I’m going to kiss many boys” Astoria was displeased at his grumpy attitude, she was having so much fun forgetting about the war with the muggles before he arrived to make her feel things again, what a killjoy. Muggle boys were much more simple than purebloods, they only cared that Astoria was pretty.

“No you wont” Draco snarled and changed into a dark suit, following her out the door.

He knew he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t like her, she’d been there when he was going down the darkest path he could travel and he’d never forgotten her tears. When he asked her to run for her life (and she’d listened, she always listened to him). And now, as her saw her tethering in the edge, he had to do something to keep her from slipping away from the magic world (like so many were doing after Voldemort’s defeat)

“I assume you are here to tell me this is all a phase and blah blah blah” Astoria raised an eyebrow at his dark suit and impeccable tie “Because I know for a fact you hate muggle entertainment” but still she made him apparate her into the nightclub district and dragged him past a burly bouncer into a place called ‘Scandal’ because apparently all that he was good for lately was to do ‘big’ magic for her while she still remained under the trace.

“Is it so strange of me to want to see where the most beautiful girl I know has disapeared to?” It had only been a few months since the war, but he’d come looking for her, if only because Astoria, even in her party girl phase, made him feel safe “I want to know what’s so attractive about these things”

“Oblivion” was all she answered, like if she were revealing a big secret “Come dance with me Malfoy, pick up your feet, move to the music”

“I don’t dance in-front of muggles” he spat with unnecessary annoyance “ the music in this place is too loud”

“That’s the idea Mr horntail, people don’t exactly come to these places to talk” she was smiling that secretive smile of hers, only now it looked more beguiling, and he briefly noted how he’d never seen her wear lipstick that red before “but have it your way, keep our table in the VIP section, I’m going to wear off these high heels”

The costume party was already in full swing by the time he settled into the large lounge chair and ordered some muggle thing that wouldn’t do anything to his firewhiskey touched system. And as he watched Astoria dance, he knew he wasn’t going to leave unless she came back with him.

Astoria Greengrass in her usual ladylike clothes was beautiful, Astoria Greengrass in a blue flapper dress, wearing red lipstick and high heels was stunning. And the men around her could see it.

She was delicate, but determined as she moved to the beat of the music, her innocence was something that barely escaped the horrors of Voldemort, so her movements, while perfectly classic to the tune of a 20′s song, were tinged with an edge of seduction she wasn’t aware she was projecting. A muggle man dressed as a gladiator asked her to dance rapidly and Draco had to suffer watching her sway and twirl in the arms of that magic-less idiot for ten whole minutes.

She truly was the most beautiful girl in the club, and Draco had the almost animalistic urge to pull her from the dance-floor and sit her in his lap, announcing wordlessly how ‘his’ that girl was. Except that she wasn’t. Draco didn’t even know what he felt for her, or where that feeling of pure hatred against that idiot dancing with Astoria came from, but it made him want to bare his teeth and tell him to back off and move away from little Greengrass.

The man leaned in and put his arm around her waist whispering something in her ear that made her giggle, which had Draco reaching for his wand and instinctively wondering how to hex the idiot into a painful death. 

By the time the muggle pulled away and began the rhythmic sequence that the song demanded, Draco was already out of his seat.

Astoria in the meantime was making sure Draco enjoyed the view and paid for not dancing with her when he had the chance. She danced with the grace of a girl who lived for the moment. Tyler, the guy dancing with her currently, seems to agree to everything she said over the music.

“And who are you supposed to be?” She asked looking at his gladiator costume “Spartacus?”

“Mark Anthony” he leaned in a bit to whisper to her ear again, in what was supposed to be a well practiced move but only served to annoy Astoria “What do you say girlie, want to be my Cleopatra if the night ends well?”

“Well, I did say I would find a cute boy to kiss tonight” She said very, very loudly.

“And I did say, No you wont” came a menacing growl behind her, pulling her away from her new friend “I changed my mind about the dance Little Greengrass”

“Hey! she was with me mate” The muggle gladiator protested “It’s a club and if a lady says she wants to...” the rest of the words died in his mouth when Draco stepped a little closer and glared down at him. The tall menacing looking young man next to the little flapper exuded wealth and privilege, the kind that has enough money to get away with murder and knows it.

“You were saying?” Draco raised an eyebrow bringing Astoria closer to him

“That I didn’t know she had a boyfriend already” The muggle gladiator grumbled under his breath “Figures, a flapper in these parties is never too far away from her mobster, just my luck” 

Neither Draco nor Astoria commented on his erroneous assumption, instead Astoria put her arms around Draco’s neck and smiled “That was rude” 

“He was undressing you with his eyes” they began to dance slowly, but seductively with each other, each movement bringing them closer together.

“So are you” Astoria breathed into his neck as he pulled her flush against his body in an expert movement “In fact the way your hands feel right now, it looks like it’s not only the eyes planning on doing the undressing”

“Maybe I’m coming to realize that dancing in muggle clubs does have its merits” his hands continued exploring her back, tracing the seam of her undergarments with lazy confidence, making her feel every inch of him pressed as she was to his chest as some obscure singer droned in the background about love and romance “is this what you say brings you oblivion?”

“No” she whispered “Oblivion means forgetting, dancing with you is nothing like that, I want to remember every part of this”

Draco grinned “Good, because I plan to do this all night” Now that he knew how good it felt, he was going to make sure that Astoria was never tempted to seek out another dance partner...Now or ever.

He might not know what he felt about her, but he didn’t want to let her go. At least not in the foreseeable future.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Music reconnected Trannilish and Ms. Boogie after life took the rappers in different directions. "We've been day zero sisters," says Trannilish (Lish for short). "Like way back before transitioning." In August, Lish hopped on Boogie's fiery track, ‘FEM QUEEN,’ and now Boogie's lending her signature purrr's to Lish's ‘Bounce,’ out now. "Collaborating with Trannilish has been the most fun part of my career, to be honest," adds Boogie — a strong statement, considering her own rolodex of underground hits. "We have a great time in the studio, and just let our hair down to create and feed off each other's vibes. "On ‘Bounce,’ Lish and Boogie offer up an absolutely menacing track with a hook that demands its own viral dance challenge. "I get the cash and then I bounce," Boogie raps, describing the song as a "celebration of everyone getting money." For Lish, ‘Bounce’ symbolizes "moving on" from anything that no longer fulfills you. This empowering message is laced with humor, featuring one choice lyric, "I'm swinging from his pubic hairs like Donkey Kong." According to Lish, "Making people laugh is super important to us." The ‘Bounce’ music video, brings their Jhevere Reynolds-produced track to life. Lish says the original plan was "to shoot a really big video, but then COVID started getting out of control." Instead, they came up with a virtual idea, depicting themselves as CGI video vixens driving convertibles and dancing together in sexy sports jerseys. Boogie says they reached out to Linya Lanvin and Jai Valentino, who helped bring their "'fem queen' Barbie dream house and basketball court to life." [via PAPER]

We’ve been sleeping on Malyangapa/Barkindji artist Barkaa, but thanks to her new single ‘Groovy’, that’s absolutely changed. This one dropped at the end of December 2020, but came across our radar this week so it definitely had to be included thanks to its powerful message and just how fun it is to listen to. Out via Bad Apples, ‘Groovy’ is also dedicated to Barkaa‘s mother and sees Barkaa rap in both English and Barkindji. She’s one to watch, and we are now firmly on board! [via Purple Sneakers]

Haviah Mighty celebrates the power of being alone on ‘Antisocial’, her new song with Old Man Saxon. After dropping her debut album 13th Floor and winning Canada’s 2019 Polaris Prize — becoming both the first Black woman and first hip-hop artist to accomplish this feat — Ms. Mighty has seemingly found another gear. “This ain’t a twosome or a threesome or a foursome,” she sings, “This that I’m a do it on my motherfuckin’ lonesome.” The track, co-produced by Haviah Mighty and Devontée, starts with a scattered synth riff that suddenly pops into the groove when the beat drops. Old Man Saxon adds new textures to the song with a hickory-smoked flow. “Oh you rollin’ on your own that’s a big bet,” he raps, “You want me forever but I am more of a vignette.” In a statement, Mighty spoke about our “emotions of self-confidence,’ explaining, “I remember listening to the beat months ago, feeling really energized by the hard cuts and bouncy percussion. That energy within was bottled up as I sat on my bed, hanging out alone, socially distancing — something I spent a lot of time doing around the time I wrote this song. As I got comfortable and familiar with being alone, I focused on self-help and self-care. As someone who generally only felt comfortable on the go in the messy hustle and bustle that is life, this time of slowing down to better get to know me was important. This song focuses on those emotions of self-confidence that we feel inside, the desire to be alone, the desire to sit with one’s thoughts, and to validate oneself.” [via Consequence of Sound]

Alternative hip-hop artist and producer Amber Ryann’s latest release, ‘ALONE’ is an atmospheric listen merging rap, electronic, and R&B with an effortless pop style. The accompanying music video showcases the artist’s unique style with varying backdrops and movements. After releasing multiple singles last year, Ryann has surpassed a million streams collectively and plans to release more music monthly. ‘ALONE’ is a melting pot of sounds and synths. While Ryann delivers structured bars along with some vocalized verses, her style is reminiscent of '90s grunge. Her demeanor boasts a nonchalant confidence, unafraid to step outside of the box. The mellow trap beat starts off with heavy bass and ends with a softer melody. The rapper also begins with faster verses and slowly ends with a harmonized chorus, “I can’t be alone.” Ryann’s style is the definition of alternative hip hop. [via Earmilk]

To kick off 2021, burgeoning Alabama rapper, Flo Milli returns with her new single ‘Roaring 20s.’ Produced by Kenny Beats and including a sample of ‘If I Were A Rich Man’ from the Original Broadway Cast Recording of Fiddler on the Roof, the single continues to show Flo’s boisterous personality. The song inspires the next wave of Flo Milli as she paves her own way, redefining this centuries’ 20’s and continuing with messages of female empowerment as heard in the song’s lyrics. On the release and this next phase, Flo Milli shares: “The ‘Roaring 20s’ was a period in history of dramatic social and political change. Last year I was able to break through during a very difficult time for not only our country but, the world. Born in 2000, and having my breakout year in 2020, I feel like I’m living in the new age of the ‘Roaring 20s’. One of the most familiar symbols of the ‘Roaring 20s’ was the birth of the new independent woman, known in those years as a flapper. A flapper is a young woman; unbothered by conventional standards of behavior. In addition to being more sexually free than previous generations, the women of the Roaring 20s had the bobbed hair, the short skirts, the drankin’, the smokin’, looks and participated in activities that were deemed ‘unladylike’. My lyrics, my style and my lifestyle all resonate with that freedom and I AM the ‘Roaring 20s’.”

[thescarletlibrarian]

I read This Book and Had Opinions

“Ella is an Edwardian Cinderella with an undead problem...

The flu pandemic of 1918 took millions of souls within a few short weeks. Except it wasn't flu, and death gave them back.”

Yes, I found out about this book several months ago, and decided it was Just the Thing to read in quarantine.  A friend asked about it and I ended up live-bitching it out on FB.

I am currently in high dudgeon because a katana has been shoehorned in, and yet apparently everyone just forgot about the existence of cavalry sabers, grenades, and flamethrowers. The sabers, at least, would have been literally lying around all over the place.

I mean, honestly. If you haven’t got the sense to make basic leather gear and dig up some gas masks, or even tie a damn ax head (ALSO lying around in farm country, along with scythes, bill hooks, and other destructive items) onto a pole, you’re not fit to survive anyway.

OR board up or fortify houses against incursion. 9 months of zombies and all you do is LOCK your DOORS? Even the guys who’ve come back from the whack-ass trench and dirt wall warrens?

These people are straight-up too stupid to live.

The fact I’m pricing cordless drills right now is entirely coincidental, I’ve been thinking about one for a while.

 “With our skin protected by thick gauze and gloves, we tackled the beehives.”

Oh, well done, those bees are a menace, got to cover up.

”Wasn't this why our boys fought and died in Europe? For freedom and justice?” Well, shit, I’ve taught WWI twice now and never covered that bit.

It’s 1920 and homegirl is rockin’ a straight chemise dress to the ball, because she’s that far ahead of the curve, with no support whatever. Also apparently she is tubular, and can achieve the correct silhouette without foundational assistance.

The very SIGHT of her in The Chemise Dress has an effect on her dad’s brain injury!

SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS BARE KNEES, nobody pulled that until 1926 or 27. That’s not the “cutting edge” of fashion, hon, that’s shitty research.

She expected to dance to ragtime and brought the sweater puppies off-leash?

A jazz band just rolled in and “The beads on my dress spun and slapped,” because FLAPPER FASHION WAITS FOR NO HISTORICAL ACCURACY.

”Never had I danced so fast and free” yeah that’s what happens when you wear no support garments, kiddo.

Fancy ballroom, “In between each set of doors and mounted on the wall were crossed swords, from delicate fencing foils to brutish Scottish claymores. Steel caught the overhead light, and fire ran along razor edges. These were no ornaments, but sharpened blades ready to be used.” NOW someone notices the armory on damn walls?

Boss fight, zombie nest, WHOOMP! Capt. Hero MacHeroface: Ever heard of greek fire? The army’s been trying to make it forever, we have a redneck version.

Oh, fuck me, now Our Brave Heroine and Capt. MacHeroface are doing a cute little sparring as flirting schtick, which, sure, whatever, but there’s no way katana vs saber is something anyone sane wants to see. Also you don’t spar with your business sharps, dumbasses, it nicks the hell out of the edges and then you have to grind that shit out. Especially if you’re dumbass enough to put a “razor” edge on the damn thing, which nicks like a little bitch. You’re not shaving with the thing, you’re cutting through undead vertebrae, FFS. With either a (predominantly) two handed katana, or a cav saber, both of which are explicitly designed to make maximum use of physics to perpetrate skeletal damage. The necessary force will be generated, thank you, they know what they’re doing.

[cordsycords]

LA By Night Prohibition AU

Victor obviously owns a speakeasy that’s super-secret

Actually, he owns a restaurant, known as the Maharajah

which is 100% a front for his speak-easy, the Maharani

Nelli is always the main act of the night and actually tends to run the Maharani more than Victor does.

He needs to stay relatively clean, so she handles most of the illegal stuff

Greg is her driver, Chelsea her personal assistant (she needs one getting into those dresses she wears)

She makes all of her own costumes, and throughout the day can often be seen in the Maharani beading a corset or hemming something

Jasper’s there too! He served in WW1, was injured while away, and wears a face prosthetic over his cheek & jaw to hide it (as well as an unhealthy dose of shellshock)

Victor refers to him as the “Enforcer of the Peace”, he doesn’t really work for the security team (that’s Campbell’s job) he mostly sits there and looks slightly menacing

a “Preventative Measure” so to speak

Annabelle is a PI investigating Victor’s connections to the crime family known as the Camarilla, at the request of *gasp* his own son (she’s also kind of dating him, but that’s totally against the rules so we won’t talk about)

Nines is her gruff mentor, ex-cop, also a PI

The Valkeries are some of her on-the-street contacts

I’ll figure out a way to shoehorn Eva in there because it’s me, I’m thinking she was a nurse during the war (and perhaps a flapper girl as well)

She lives in one of those all-girl houses with Kyoko and Luna, Hester is the one who runs the house

How does Plot Happen you ask?

okay, basically Annabelle gets into the speakeasy one night and starts Snooping

Jasper catches her, and locks her in a change room for the rest of the night

Anyways, so apparently she somehow found a connection between Victor and the Camarilla (that he’s been supplying them with weapons) and came to the club to investigate

Obviously, Victor is not supplying guns to the Camarilla, but someone is trying to frame him

Cue the “whose trying to frame Victor” mystery plot complete with

Dazzling Femme Fatales (Suzanne)

Off the Rails Mob Bosses (Vannevar Thomas)

Snake Oil Salesman Henchmen (Chaz Price)

Overbearing and Nosy Government Officials (Strauss)

Interesting Hollywood Connections (Issac Abrams and... The Gorgeous Gary Golden???!?!)

and much more!

Will the coterie uncover the truth? Will Nelli ever get Jasper to wear a bowtie? Will Jasper ask Eva out on a date? WIll Annabelle figure out just how she fits into this crazy underground world? Turne in to find out!

[woosey-woo-shitposts]

Guns and Roses

(Obey Me! Mafia!AU)

This au's concept originated from this user

Parts of this storyline are loosely inspired by Mafiatell (An Undertale Mafia AU) written by Staringback, adapted into a comic by Cutthroat-Jutsu which was later voice-dubbed by Vade.

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This narrative was written in first person to minimize the use of MC's pronouns for your enjoyment, however I ask you pardon any errors because I am inexperienced in this writing style.

As a matter of fact, I loathe it. But I wanted to make this a fun read. I did this for you.

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"You have got to be kidding me!" I snarled as I observed the wrinkled notice in my hands. Of course, the one time I get a good night's sleep, my landlord gives me a demand to pay extra for this month's rent! That was my biggest pet peeve: when they demanded money but never chose to specify WHY. As far as I knew, this wasn't a matter of protection fees, this was him taking advantage in the cruel world we all lived in.

I can't wait to get out of this town. Every cop, politician, or anyone else in some position of power was corrupted by selfish desire. As for me? I'm just someone living on my lonesome in a piece-of-crap apartment on a singer's wage. Oh-- yeah. I sing and dance if the price is right. If you dress nice and pile on enough make-up, you might make it out here. Unfortunately, I never made it past the low-life bars that paid a somewhat survivable wage. Now I had to lose all my leftover money on this in order to not get kicked out by my greedy landlord. My friends taught me to never respect someone who wears sunglasses indoors! What a mess...

I know what you might be thinking: "why not find another place to stay?" And my answer is-- this is the cheapest place around--even with that "living fee" my landlord was forcing me to pay IN ADDITION to this month's rent! Yeah, I still haven't forgotten about it! Thanks to a certain gang that controlled the area, it was hard to find a living space that didn't put you in debt because of the additional "protection fee" that all tenants were charged. All this city cared about were money and power and control. Sometimes they went hand-in-hand.

After a few moments of pacing, I finally went to my room to pick out some clothes for tonight's gig. That was the best I could do for now.

------------

Heavy on the eyeshadow, bright red on the lipstick. That's what the club owner asked for before I retreated into the bathroom to apply it all. If I had a say, I'd be going without the skimpy flapper girl dress, but that's what they wanted. For whatever reason, though, the club owner seemed more... tense than usual. I've seen low-life thugs and lesser members of the local gang in this club during my past performances, so it couldn't be that. What if it was someone more important...?

"Showtime in 10, darling~!" The owner hollered from the changing room door, snapping me from my thoughts as abruptly as they arrived in my head. He was attractive to say the least, although I could go without them opening the door and leering in. It was almost like they were trying to sneak a peek at me every time. Even if that wasn't bothering me, I felt this knot twisting in my gut, telling me that something big was going to happen tonight as I fixed up my hair to the best of my ability.

I could hear my shoes clicking against the wood flooring as I approached the stage. To my right was a small jazz crew: a trumpet, and a saxophone player... although one looked to be a kid in height, especially with how his blonde hair was styled. He looked far too short for the clarinet he was playing. The other gentleman was tall and muscular with darker skin. He also had a calming air about him, like a long lost friend of mine. To my left was someone on the piano, cracking his knuckles and poising his hands over the ivory keys. I've never seen him before. He was slender with white hair, but I couldn't see his face from where I stood as I adjusted the height of the microphone. However, my attention was drawn to the the pianist that stood from his post to investigate who was standing in the crowd.

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"Would you look at that?" A gentle, yet playful voice uttered before he turned to face me. He was tall, probably 5'11, with steely gray eyes and pale skin that was almost as white as his hair. Of course, I wanted to introduce myself, but my attention was drawn to the slightly parted curtains he was peeking through.

I squinted out at the dimly lit bar, scanning the tables. As I suspected: there were mostly low-life criminals drinking their worries away, however I noticed a menacing aura wafting from a far corner of the room.

Draped in shadow, there looked to be three men whose eyes seemed to glow with an inhuman glint. The first man seemed to be the tallest out of the three: dressed in a jarring red suit with a black tie and a golden chain linking his collar and his suit. His hair surprisingly looked even redder than the clothes on his back. Then there were his eyes, glowing like yellow-hot coals that matched the shimmering gold chains he wore.

On the far end of the table was a slender looking gentleman wearing a mint green jacket over a black vest. His eyes were shimmering emeralds, although I was more focused on how he patiently was sitting by, more focused on their surroundings than the men he was sitting with.

To his left--sitting between him and the man in red--was another man, sitting barely as tall as the first, yet sharing the same if not a more menacing aura than the figure in red. He had a more standard looking suit with a red vest and tie with a black suit jacket resting on his shoulders. His hair was black, swooped partially to one side more than the other with a hint of silver fading from the tips. I also took notice of his black gloves. He must've gotten his hands dirty in the past. Then there were his eyes. Those eyes were a shade of red that almost blended into the lighting of the room from what I could see from the curtain. Even so, I could feel a sudden piercing sensation when I felt like I was being watched. Before I could figure it out, I hastily closed the curtains and returned my attention to the pianist.

"That... that was Diavolo, wasn't it?" I questioned with a quiver of my lip. I heard that the gang leader of this area was a man who dressed in red as to hide how much blood covered his hands.

"Wow, even small town singers know him?" The man questioned in a teasing tone.

I narrowed my gaze at him in a cold glare. "Know /of/ him. I've never seen him in person, let alone pictures of him."

The pale man shrugged off my glare, keeping an almost foxlike arrogance about his demeanor. "Well, consider yourself lucky if you survive the night. Rumor has it his gaze can curse the weak of mind."

Right when I parted my lips to snap back at him with something- that club owner called from behind us.

"Get in position, you four!" He said in a hushed shout, signaling for the performers to get ready to start their number.

I bit my lip with growing anxiety before the club owner waved at me from back stage before offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing what seemed to be "break a leg". All I could do was nod curtly to acknowledge it until the curtains swung apart, temporarily blinding me with the stage lights.

------------

I had to admit, these musicians had talent. It was easy to keep in pace with them through the first number. As I removed the microphone from its stand, I danced about, letting my clothes sway about until the crowd cheered and called out to me. Even so, I felt that knot in my stomach. As my motions slowed, I noticed Diavolo and the other two men looking my way... whispering. It left me unsettled.

My dancing slowed to a stop as I returned to my spot by the microphone stand, but I kept with the upbeat tempo until the song ended. Those catcalls and whistles erupted into proud cheering where I stood. Still, my gaze fixated on those three figures, my gaze briefly locking with Diavolo's as a quiet gulp swallowed back my anxieties.

With a forced smile, I waved to the crowd. "I see a few unfamiliar faces tonight. I hope you enjoyed the music." I chuckled lightly to myself. "This next one is dedicated to a special guest tonight." Even though my body was fighting against a terrified tremor, my eyes met with those monsters again before winking in their direction.

------------

The crowd fell silent in appreciation of the next song, although, to a mixture of relief and fear, I saw Diavolo leave with his entourage of two. A few thoughts came to mind as the second and final song ended before the cheering became muffled behind a closed curtain.

"Bravo, darling~!" The owner rushed in to hug me, catching me off-guard. "Beautiful singing as always." He chimed as he twirled me about.

"Easy, Asmo." The saxophone player interjected, quickly separating me from the overexcited club owner. "A lot just happened. Give them some space."

The rosy-haired man blinked, taken aback by that remark. "If you insist. Darling, you're free to go. I left your pay in the changing room." He smiled in fake innocence as I walked past him and off the stage. In the corner of my eye, I saw Asmo glancing over his shoulder in... concern?... as I went backstage and back into that changing room.

------------

The room was pitch black when I stepped into it. Odd, I don't remember turning off the lights when I left to perform. I took a few steps into the room in order to find the light switch, using what little light that came in from the hall until--

Click...

My heart suddenly sank into my stomach the moment the door shut behind. Immediately afterwards, the light was switched on and a hand brought itself on my shoulder the moment I thought about running for the door I came through.

"I don't think so." A gentle voice mused. A side glance revealed a white silk glove gripping my shoulder. Even if it didn't look strong, my body refused to budge against it. Then, however, my attention was brought to a towering man in in a red and black suit. That tall, dark, and mysterious guy Diavolo was talking with. My heart was racing a mile a second as he stood up and approached me. Is this it? Is this how I die?! My eyes went wide as they locked with his.

The moment he brought his hand up to my chin, I let out a sharp gasp-- I couldn't help myself... I was scared for my life! I found myself tensing up as he forced me to look him in the eyes. Those dark red eyes were much more intimidating up close.

"Tell me, human." He began, voice deep and low. It wasn't even a whisper, but it was quiet enough to have the same effect on me. He tilted his head, glaring angrily down at me before he spoke. "Why were you looking at Lord Diavolo?"

TO BE CONTINUED

[stunudo]

Something Wicked

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dr. Spencer Reid x Female Reader

My Masterlist // Spencer Reid Masterlist

A/N: I decided to just start writing. I hope you guys like this fun seasonal romp! I started this while drinking, but finished it days later. So you should absolutely hold me accountable for shitty things like spelling and lack of plot. xoxo Stu

You half dashed, half crept around the crowds of people. You knew you were being followed, but you hoped your shortness would be an advantage in the masses of bar-goers decked out in their party store costumes and matte painted faces. You tried not to look back, but the exhilaration of the pursuit was getting the better of you. Finally, after the distance seemed great enough you rounded a small coffee cart and peeked over your shoulder.

The faces were all strangers, indifferent in the brisk night air. Your stomach fell slightly, you hadn’t thought you would make it. That sizzling electricity turned to pins and needles along your covered arms. Your neck snapped up, some movement in your periphery causing your senses to realign themselves. Your body lurched forward, ready to continue on your path of dodging through French Maids and Polyester Avengers.

Instead, your face fell against a soft yet reedy surface. The rags covering the torso were a mossy green, while the face peering down at you was a frozen sneer. The brown eyes shining back at you, the only redeeming feature in an otherwise menacing ensemble.

“Hi Spence.” You sputtered, the heat from your misstep tightening across your cheeks.

Before he could reply, though the smirk was evident beneath his mask. Derek Morgan’s long whistle broke through the night air. Everything came into stark contrast, the heat of your breath fogging with each slow exhale. The way your legs twitched from the sudden stop, every inch of exposed skin was protesting the cold. And a knot had formed securely in your stomach.

“Listen, I know you guys have your own thing going on, but let’s get through the night before you start getting out of hand.” Derek’s playful tone had you rolling your eyes, anything to keep them from locking on to Spencer’s again. Anything from making it obvious how much he affected you.

Garcia sauntered beside Morgan’s bulk, their arms linked, her boots heeled and rhinestoned to perfection. Morgan’s costume was simple, an F.B.I. tee shirt beneath his leather jacket. You didn’t think it was very funny post-freshman year of college, but no one was arguing with those biceps. Garcia was an 80s glam rock diva and had the lace and eyeliner to put most of them to shame. You started walking back down the promenade until you spotted them: Hotch and Prentiss in matching costumes.

Where they found them she would never tell, but Hotch had a loud zoot suit of canary yellow, while Prentiss wore a sparkling, TINY, flapper dress beneath their matching trench coats. This was the BAU after-hours, and you were excited to see them all participating. It felt weird without JJ, but you knew she would most likely be chasing Henry around in a cow costume or something equally adorable.

Finally the moment you had all been waiting for, a pristine stretch limo pulled to the curb, and a hulking driver stepped out of the front. Once he opened the back door you all climbed in, with many gawks and a couple of catcalls from the surrounding crowds. Inside David Rossi was smoking a cigar, a silk scarf loose at his shoulders over his burgundy smoking jacket.

Settled in on the bench seat nestled between Morgan and the wall, your evening had officially begun.

Spencer had felt the twinge of mischief in every glance from Y/N, it was equally spellbinding and alarming. Was this flirting? Is that why is mouth felt dry and his palms were sweaty? She wore a standard Hogwarts Robe and had Garcia do  something with her hair to make it a massive tangle and, somehow, Spencer had never her found her more charming.

The party that Rossi had taken them to was phenomenal, a place unlike anything he had dared to suspect from the older profiler. The frights and the lights sent waves of stimuli through Spencer’s lean frame. The magic of pretend monsters overshadowing any memory of real dangers from their day job. Somehow, everyone was having a good time. Yet, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that he had a secret, one he wasn’t privy to. The confusion and shame battled through his overzealous mind.

You had been dancing, or what could be described as dancing with the proper time and space away from the crowded hall filled with slutty-what-have-yous and poorly applied grease paint. Everyone in turn had spent a few lively songs on the floor, only you had refused to leave, even when Penelope tried to signal the sacred bathroom break. Prentiss and Garcia each gave you a wilted look, but made for the winding line as a duo. Joke was on them, because you hadn’t even been drinking, much.

“So, you going to keep eyeing Reid or are you finally going to make your move?” Derek had ducked behind you to keep a particular Zombie Football Ref out of your bubble.

“If I am doing anything, Agent Morgan,” You barked against the thudding music. “Is having a good time. I am making myself perfectly approachable, wouldn’t you agree?” You wiggled your eyebrows at Derek before grinning back at Hotch and Reid by the tables near the bar.

“How does Morgan move his hips like that without losing balance? The physics of that stance don’t add up,” Reid muttered. Hotch knew his team members were on the edge of a knife tonight and with Prentiss in something little more than lingerie he felt himself slipping along a similar blade. Maybe it was the atmosphere, around every hidden corner there were dark deeds and roaming hands. Something seemed off, as if a storm was brewing and no one was seeking shelter. They were just waiting to be washed away with the tide.

Emily’s hand found his forearm as the tempo fell, leaving a current from her footfalls to the soles of his shoes and eventually racing over every nerve of his body. He followed her blindly, leaving Reid to talk to thin air. Or if he was as smart as he claimed, to go kiss the girl.

Rossi smirked in the corner at the way the night was unfolding. He nodded briefly at Morgan before turning back to the night’s hostess, a stunning and single, best-selling horror author.

The chase had been lost, nervous energy had eaten away any playfulness the night had stirred within him. Spencer was almost panicking now. Why had he come, even on Halloween these events were always too loud for proper conversation? Words and tangents, those were his lifelines in social situations. Now he was just feebly standing alone in a room full of intoxicated strangers. It was a familiar nightmare, replayed backwards and with fewer fire arms.

Just as he was going to abandon the night’s festivities, a determined poke assaulted his shoulder blade.

“Come on, Creature Feature, your turn,” Y/N’s voice was garbled with the cacophony around them. When Spencer didn’t reply, she grabbed his gloved hand and dragged him with her to the center of the dance floor. She wiggled one monster fist from his hand and then the next, shoving them roughly into the bag she kept beneath her cloak. Spencer didn’t know what to say that would convince her this was ultimately a mistake, one that would leave one, if not both, of them injured or crestfallen. So he just watched her, reminding himself that he still had his mask, that he wasn’t on display. Tonight there was just a monster standing in front of a witch, with total lack of reason and rhythm.

He was overly aware of his heartbeat and how it pulsed through his ears as if his anatomy had been reconstructed as well as his ability to form thoughts. Suddenly, his bare hand was underneath her robe and touching the warmth of her waist, radiating through her button down blouse. She raised her eyes at him, but he missed the message. She sighed, grabbing the other hand and slipping it on the opposite side. Her hands locked behind his neck, forcing his face downwards as she started to sway.

“Spence, you’re going to have to look at me, eventually.” She called up to him, there was no anger or malice in her voice, yet he still recoiled at the broken bubble of perplexing silence.

When he finally met her gaze everything rushed in and then disappeared. Noise, light, oxygen, everything seemed to shoot away from them, as if placing them in a pocket dimension, locked in only by each other’s hold.

They were the same eyes he had studied when she would ask a question or pose a theory. The same eyes that were gentle and apologetic when she had to go back to her desk. The same eyes that were playful and engaging whenever a new statistic left his mouth. But there was something else in their depths tonight. And it took everything in Spencer’s consciousness to swallow once he saw it.

You hadn’t thought it would be this difficult. Clearly, there was chemistry and yet he seemed distant if not disinterested all together. Some profiler you were. When the song changed and there was no rational reason to be clutching to him like a brace-faced teenager, you stepped back. The expectations realigning themselves in your mind so not to become overly self conscious or make a scene. Please, don’t make a scene, Y/N. But then it happened, like someone pushed you into oncoming traffic, you just reached up and took off the mask.

Spencer’s eyes bulged, distrust and shock flooding his chocolate eyes. You didn’t stop there. The second your palm wrapped around the rubber texture of his faux face, you knew you couldn’t be stopped. Once the barrier was removed and your path was clear, you pounced. Heels popped off the ground and your arms flew up, mouth latching on to Spencer’s impossibly pink lips. And you were flying.

Just as quickly as you met your target, you were both falling. People backed away, as Spencer and you went crashing to the floor, the heckling sounds of Monster Mash bursting from the distant speakers.

“Oh my god, Reid, are you okay?!” You scrambled to check on him, touching his hair and rubbing his back, attempting to dampen the pain by spreading pressure. 

“Nothing broken, except any ounce of pride I had left,” Spencer moaned. Slowly you began to notice all the people staring at you both, knowing their attention would only make the matter worse for him. You reached back and grabbed his mask where you had dropped it, shoving it over his face.

“You want to get out of here?” You asked out of the side of your mouth, watching the crowd like a cornered animal watches a pack of wolves. You stood with him, half blinded and sluggish, behind you.

“Please.” That was all he had to say, then Derek and Rossi broke through the ranks, and before the amused glint from Derek’s lips could register in your mind you were ushering Spencer out through the crowd.

“Go! Spence! Go, googogogo!” You squealed with laughter when you made it to the exit, dodging the security guards with graceless flamboyancy.

You stood, breathless on the house’s front path. Spencer ditched the mask, eyes bright and mouth open. You both froze, waiting for the rush to quell.

It never got the chance, because then he kissed you.

And it was delicious.

General Taglist:

@bluecatebluecatonecattwocat @heyworld07 @thespaceprincess @skrrrrrrrrrrt @luckypop6 @dontshootmespence @veroinnumera @holding-on-to-francis @gabriellewritermua @mysticpansy @bloowulf  @ultrarebelheart @braziliangirlonasharkcity @dionnaea @tenaciousaracdeexpert @fbissaderekmorgan @frietjmeloen @rt8815 @cynbx @nelbie @greytoneworld  @sassyspacepizza @extremeobsessions101 @haendel-me-with-care

[brielletutor-blog]

The Devil’s in the Details || Demi & Jared

                She was going to be fashionably late - such was the nature of Demetria Rivers, but exactly how late the raven haired tutor was unsure. He had to be there at the crack of eight of course, if only to ensure everything was still in place from the set up earlier that afternoon, who knew what kind of tomfoolery the patients might have gotten into with no one manning the double doors. He’d said hello to his fellow colleagues, even managed to get a few dances out of the way, ensuring that his plan to have a meaningful dance with Demi would be in full effect. There were still a few other ladies he would have to convince but that would come with time.

Compliments came and went, both uttered by the Jones and received by him. There was a reason Halloween was his favourite holiday. It was in the creativity people showed, the way they put their interests on display in such an outward motion that had the tutor beaming, exposing the pinpoint fangs he’d attached to his own snow white canines. He caught a glimpse then of a twinkling flapper dress, it’s owner adorning a feathered headband as her chocolate brown locks rested against her shoulders in tight curls. This costume belonged to a woman Jared had bumped into in the halls once or twice and who had quickly captured his interest on a literary level. Amberly Jacobs was a beautiful mind, it was an utter shame about her condition though. “Ms. Buchanan.” Jared said approvingly, crimsoned sapphires taking in her attention to detail.

The brunette spun at the unfamiliar voice, her own amber hues shimmering in an attempt to get her brain to cooperate for once. “Yeah! I’m sorry, one second…” She trailed, fishing through her hand bag in an effort to find her assigned cell. Once it was within her grasp she flicked through the many faces staring back at her from the other side of the screen until she found his face. “…Jared! I’m not surprised you got it - most people think I’m just a twenty flapper girl.”

“Well I certainly appreciate your effort.” The tutor beamed, giving the girl a knowing nod as he sympathized with her issue. How the Jacobs girl continued to go about her life like the consistent memory wipe was nothing but a minor inconvenience was beyond Jared - but he admired her greatly for her stick-to-it-ivness and ability to keep her head up. “You look lovely.” He added, meaning the compliment only for what it was, a compliment and nothing more.

Still this did not quell the rose coloured hue that shaded itself over Amberly’s cheeks, forcing the girl to lift a hand and place it beneath her chin - hoping the coolness of her digits might relieve some of the heat. “Thank you - you look terrifying - but insanely hot at the same time, I bet your girlfriend loves that costume.” Amberly had no idea whom the Jones was seeing, but she had to assume he had one, how could someone who looked like him not? Not to mention the brilliance he held within those raven black locks.

The tutor smiled bashfully with the compliment toward his looks but found the gesture hiccuping slightly as the brunette mentioned a girlfriend. He hadn’t told anyone he was seeing someone, in fact he’d made certain to keep that fact inherently negative given his current situation. Even if there was a fake girl friend to cover up for the fact he was entirely wrapped up in Demi there would be more questions than it was worth and of course there would be the eventual ‘When can we meet her’ from friends and family alike. No - it was far easier to keep the people believing he was involved with no one, which was the answer he planned to give Amberly.

“Hang on - I need a picture of this too, because we all know I’m not going to remember.” The Jacobs girl joked - cutting off Jared’s explanation. An audible hitch caught in his throat just before he complied, giving the girl his best snarl when sapphire pools caught her - the vision in RED, the woman who so publicly was not his girlfriend though Jared Jones wanted nothing more than to shout her name from the heavens. There were two pictures snapped - thanks to Amberly’s hesitating thumb, one of which caught the tutor’s magnificent menacing glare - but the other had captured his wandering eyes and while the photo didn’t express who the tutor was so smitten with - the words were written all over his face.

                “Excuse me, would you Amberly?” Jared asked politely, to wit the brunette Daisy nodded, hoping she hadn’t off put him with her comment about how attractive he looked. She was only being honest. From there Jared allowed his feet to glide over the dance floor, carrying him wistfully toward the woman who had sucked all the air from his lungs and redispensed a cloud of pink heady smoke within him. EVERYTHING about Demi was perfection. From the tips of her horns to the point of her heel, Jared had a million and one things to feast his eye upon - and almost immediately after appreciating the costume for all it’s glory the tutor began to have entirely impure thoughts about tearing it off later that night. True he’d seen the outfitting it’s rawest form from within the confines of the apartment but this was an entirely new level. “Hail Satan.” The tutor chortled, crossing his burly python limbs across his chest as crimsoned ceruleans drank the beauty in. He’d paused with her at the entrance, thankfully that the music would more or less drown out their conversation - but even if someone were to over hear them, he may very well just be complimenting the Rivers girl - he had just done so with Amberly after all.

@demixrivers

[resmarted]

come darling, it’s been too long. i can’t get enough of your face, i’m glad you’re showing it more, you’re such a pretty pretty princess even if you deny it all day long. it’s time for me to pry my eyes from the internet’s long list of losers trying to fight me over shit they’re forever wrong about and to tell you silly things like how i’m gonna get you one of those paris hilton shirts that say stop being poor and a rita’s wooder ice as soon as they open back up. your bloody little fingers will wipe across your mouth that’s bigger than your head and paint splotches of red over those pillowy lips that i love and lust over and i will say good god, come closer, let me kiss you now. no, now! don’t push me away or punish me for long, don’t give me your cold shoulder when all i want is your warmth, you know i’ll just take it anyway. yes i will, i’ll slither over it and blink at you and stare like my dog does to me and one of us is more irresistible than the other but that’s not the point. i am excited that the time is getting closer but not excited that my reflection is more horrifying than usual, and i have been meaning to make videos again for the sole purpose of preparing you for it, but what if you see them and are like whoa sorry guys turns out our stop to your city is going to be skipped this year for the sake of everyone’s gag reflex. i’m sick of being miserable and poor and alone, i’m ready to be miserable and poor and with you, and we can be aunts to all our friends’ kids and play games like which one of you will get carded for cigarettes at the store? i bet it’s going to be you each time while our toddler friends walk out with cigars in their mouths like baby champs. oh stop, it’s a funny image, a classic one even. right? babies with cigars? you can ask me important questions like how’s khloe? and i’ll be like great she ate nearly her whole half of a papaya today and you’ll say shh stop i don’t really want to know, and i don’t care because you have already opened the floodgates so here comes a list of each one’s personal life updates. it’s easier to shut me up when you’re not so far away, and that’s only if you are really clever about it and distract me with something delicious to occupy my mouth instead. no pervert, i meant like chocolate or cheetos or chinese or chicken, or chicka da chinese da chinese chicken. show me your sketch pad and your diaries from high school and photos of you and your long rapunzel hair so i can say oh my godddd you look just like whatshername from edge of seventeeeeeen. i told annie to prepare for our wedding night and how i have this whole itinerary planned for all of us to rejoice and be merry and she said “oh right” never fazed by my insanity, so any pressing questions you have about lizards are welcome and encouraged. actually just ask her about how she put them on treadmills. actually don’t even talk to her just look at me and no one else, i mean who else is ever even in the room besides us anyway? i’m going to whisper really romantic things to you at the table like, i shaved all my chin hairs tonight just. for you. i wish you could stay longer so we can take streetcars and go to the movies and the zoo and all my favorite spots in all my favorite parks and just kidding i have no idea what nature is like and haven’t been outside since the eighties. even if you don’t even really end up liking me and even if we don’t end up getting married (impossible.) it will be the first time in years i have been so happy, i don’t even remember having something to look forward to since last time you came. i mean, surgeries don’t count, those are something you go through and endure and hope it works out in your favor, even if they technically were ones i wanted forever. sorry i am so boring and that none of this is poetic or cohesive or even necessarily entertaining but i couldn’t fall back to sleep and miss talking to you like this, like no one is looking and like i’m not just some crazy person having entire conversations alone in public. if anyone sees me i’ll just be like bluetooth, bitch! get with the times! i would ask you if you want to time travel but i’m not learning about the roaring twenties just to make you a flapper girl in a romance i can copy straight off gatsby, or more specifically christina ricci as zelda in the adaptation of fitzgerald’s life story and even more specifically, bits of it remixed with boardwalk empire which i only watched until they killed off michael pitt and then it was like, steve buscemi i love you and all but Not enough. all i really know about that time era is that oppression against minorities was awful and women didn’t really dress like flappers unless they were rich enough to afford such a luxury, which they usually weren’t because hello, the great depression. or was that the forties? look, i don’t know anything about anything, i slept through most of school because i was too busy doing important things like trying to beat donkey kong every night and talking to annie on aim til 2am and did you know aim is about to be shut down? should we get screen names and live out our teen dreams together before it goes away? i’m going to ask you for your screen name in person just to see what you do. mine were lollipop poison and don’t spook easy and i ate a mexican bc i didn’t understand things like racism okay i just thought it was funny bc i was like twelve when i made it, probably just had mexican food and thought putting an a in front of it would be a heelarious twist. look i am not here to explain my past to you okay, i’m an outlaw and a menace to society and i am ready for you to jump onto the back of my hog and burn rubber with me as we ride off into the sunset. hog? right? isn’t that what they call those motorcycle thingies? i am afraid you will judge me for how fat my dog is. he’s enormous. his body screams child abuse but i don’t even overfeed him, he just packs it in. he doesn’t even like walking and if i try to take him he sits there and looks at me like bitch you must be insane if you think i’m going to be moving beyond the couch. i think i’m going to introduce you to him by rolling him out on a wagon decorated to look like a parade float and then screaming through a megaphone, stop judging me! are you like, dying to run off with me yet? i don’t even want to run away, you know i don’t do cardio, let’s just sit here together. but like, forever.

[musevassal]

Millennials are Garbage

So, millennials, huh? What went wrong there? And golly, Enid, those flappers sure were a real menace, what with their reefer and jazz music and sex in motorcars. Hmmm, now that I start to dig into it a little, it's almost as though there's always been people who insist on framing things in terms of generational conflict. Who go for the layup of old versus young when they want to get their dander up about something, because goddamnit they aint gonna let something like not having anything interesting or useful to say stop them from getting their spleen on! And then oh what a bland cul-de-sac of the zeitgeist we find ourselves in. At this point, those of you expecting a hit piece on millennials are probably wondering what the fuck I'm doing. The short answer is: You've been clickbaited. Now, there are two camps of people who would respond to such bait: those who agree that millennials are terrible; and those who took offense at the title and came looking for some more of that sweet, sweet offensive fuel for their raging fire of righteous indignation. For those of you in the first group who came looking for something of an echo-chamber to amuse yourselves: sorry, there's not going to be much here for you in terms of that. But do feel free to pull up a chair and hang about if you're so inclined. I do actually have a point here and it might not do you any harm to check it out. Now, for those of you who came torches and pitchforks in hand, I would ask you to take a step back and ask yourself how it is that you've been clickbaited. Not why (that's an easy one: it's to drive traffic to my content), but how? The how of it is actually pretty simple. It's an old sales technique and one of the tricks in the How To Win Friends and Influence People bag. To combat indifference and disinterest, the manipulator instigates the target's irritation or anger. These feelings, while negative, are an emotional response. The target now has engaged emotionally with you; a connection has been established. From there it is child's play to defuse the anger, and what follows is a dopamine rush from the perceived conflict resolution, however minor. In that state it, the mark is much more likely to buy that used car they didn't want. But this is the internet. There's no car for them to sell you. So what's the payoff? Attention. Traffic. That is the currency. You see something that pisses you off, and what do you do? You share it, you comment on it; then your friends to the same. Attention. Traffic. Mission accomplished. You read something that pisses you off and you click to read more. In order to do what? What need does that impulse serve for you? I have already told you what need of mine you have serviced, but what service are you doing yourself? The only logical answer is that you like being angry and offended. Fair enough then. But if you don't like that mental state, then what the fuck are doing to yourself? For my benefit, no less. This is the media cycle we now are meant to participate in. The celebrity offensive act or tweet, followed by the mea culpa apology circuit. These are not missteps; they are calculated manipulations. Their name is trending on Twitter. Attention. Traffic. This is not to say it isn't useful to get angry at things sometimes. But take a second and think about how you are interacting with what has angered you. Is your attention hurting or helping the object of your ire? Are you signal boosting exactly what it is you claim to be fighting against? Get angry, sure. Say your piece, even better. But don't serve their fucking agenda. Make a case for what you believe without linking to that offensive tidbit that baited you into action. That's the way to do it. Think of it in terms of that old philosophical exercise: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, does it make a noise?” The answer is: no it doesn't. Noise is a human concept. There are vibrations in the air, but they are not interpreted by a human mind that makes a judgment about what is noise and what isn't. So, if a shitty tweet is posted and no one reads it, is it offensive? Without human attention and interpretation, all of this is nothing more than dust blown into the void. Binary ones and zeros dumped into a sea of data storage. It's nothing. Until you make it something.

[ecotone99]

(MF) The Caller

“You barely made it out, didn’t you Gilt?”

“Who is this? How’d you get this number?”

“Pathetic, Gilt, really. You can’t even handle the booze you pay for. No wonder you’re fat and broke.”

“I’m going to hang up now. If you call again, I’ll find you, and when I’m done with you, you’ll have to breathe through a straw. Got it, pal?”

“Sure, Gilt. Sure thing. Just one question though, huh? How’d you feel when you came to this morning? Probably pathetic. Am I right? Yeah, definitely pathetic.”

“Wait, what happened? Where was I last night? Who is this?”

“Why don’t you look in the mirror, Gilt? Take a good, long look. Oh, and one more thing. Don’t leave the house. Don’t make any calls. And be good. Talk to you soon, Gilt. Very soon.”

Owing to a penchant of mine, this talent I have for blackouts, my memories get fooled around with, fanned out and then cruelly shuffled. I live in a daze of time-jump, of brain lag. I’m a joggle of clanking pasts. For instance, as I lay on the bomb-stained carpet there, nose-up and piteously wheezing, I remembered a breakfast I quaffed last summer: stiff shingle of toast (blowtorched, flinty), wet flop of egg, throat-scalding hell’s brew of frizzled black coffee, and a single, zigzagged cigarette, exhumed from an outdoor trash bin. Perfect, translucent clarity, everything summoned with ease. But the previous night was a wipe. Well, there was a shimmer of data: a cracked tooth and boggled eyes, a bruised rib and towelly tongue. I felt run over, totaled. Not much to go on really, but it was clear that I got into something. Or something got into me. The details were all smudged out. As a rule I don’t do deep dives, or plunges, into memory’s dark underwaters. I’m just not brave enough. You never know what’s lurking down there, in that gulp of time and squid ink.

So, about this problem I was having, spreadeagled and sweating on the stained underlay, laboring to remember what happened, to give some kind of form to the flicker. How did I come to be there, all bloat and pregnant pain, a burping, bewildered komodo, capsized on my silver shag? There was clearly some flash of violence, probably with my caller there, whose number was a string of sixes, whose voice went slithering across my nape. It was a sickly, heart-curling voice, a spasm of greenish disgust. What would I do if he knew my address? He might appear at my innocent door, his powerful neck all teeming with veins, his tight face and Adam’s apple, his rage dials set to maximum. Yes, what would I do? I considered a knee to the groin, a stiff thumb in his eye, a shock of knuckles to the valve of his throat. I had some real options here. It was violence a la carte, and that made me feel a bit better. The knee-to-balls route seemed best - the jelly maker, the maneuver with the highest payoff, the most grind and twang for the effort put in. I had a good knobbly knee on me too.

I noticed how my cell phone, the snazzy little two-way there, was now dark with battery death. I must have blacked out again: the device was lubed with slobber. (I mouth leak when I’m unconscious. It’s something I’m working on.) It may surprise you, I know, but I felt pretty shipshape. Passing out never felt so good. I sprang up and shuffled to the bathroom, to the glass and glare of my shame. The mirror said nothing as I streaked and splattered it. I howled and cursed while scalping my face. I combed and rinsed and tweezed and spat, but there wasn’t much I could do. The perma-stubble skin, the burglar mask eyes: I was faded, spectral, a washed-out shimmer, a grizzled fat spook with a vindictive bladder. But man, was I feeling good. I was ready for the mystery caller.

I watched myself in the stoic glass, rehearsing my chop and swing, my lunge-block combination, my crushing elbow thrust. Oh yeah, my blood was up, and I was crackling with hot fight static. But listen, don’t get me wrong - I’m a realistic kind of guy. I have a good meaty fist and a stony jawline, but I’m a bit doughy in the middle. I admit it. And there’s the issue of my guileless, side-parted hair, my stained glass style, my cotton candy heart: I have the menace of a snoozy koala. I’m practically made of sweater fuzz. But I’ve lived in some jungly places. Right now I sleep in a chintzy motel, this ruin at Thirteenth and Pike, a stripped slum where fear levels rocket from sensible precaution to diuretic retreat. You don’t stroll about down here, let me tell you, not without some good brass knuckles or a broken wine bottle. Yeah, I may look soft, but I’ve survived this city. I’m big too, bigger than most bounders out there. If my caller even tried to ghost my steps, he’d come to in a glass avalanche, a cataract of boom and shatter. Yes, I’d pick up his call. He would hear my answer all right, in tooth-rattling quadraphonic. I was so ready.

I had plans for a very big day. I assembled the sundries on the bedside table, including my cologne of choice (Bad Boy, a very respectable knockoff, quite close to some top-dollar scents). I rechecked the hair, had a no-show on the toilet, and drowned my uvula in a quart of orange juice. A spritz of Bad Boy on throat and nape - easy, not too heavy there - and a gruff hawk into a startled dishrag, and I was teetering out into the open air. My cab was late but I didn't mind. (My car wouldn’t start, that sly rattletrap.) I was firmly on mission, and that felt good. My first act of the day: to purchase a slick new talkie, since I couldn’t revive the dead one, not even with a thorough cleaning. It turns out cell phones aren’t droolproof. You know something? We should get the guys at NASA on that. They came up with space blankets and velcro, even the cordless vac, lots of terrific doodads. It would be an honor to shake their hands or give them a whopping tip. We thank you, and space thanks you, for the tiptop job and all the great doodads.

My cab arrived and I poured myself in. I was practically rosy, all spruce and twang and radiant health. But it was actually quite pallid, closer to anti-health, and it didn't radiate: it seeped out from my blazing armpits. Wow. It must have been the Good Boy deodorizing spray. I had gotten myself all shiny with it. I guess Good Boy and Bad Boy don't really mix. As we barreled and bounced over uneven streets, I stared out my window in a daze of preparation: duck, lunge, thrust - and kick! I hardly noticed the waking city, the sudden scrapers and blue vault of sky, the rounded back of my driver, who was slumped over the flummoxed wheel.

“Hey. Hey pal. You okay up there?”

He didn’t budge, not a twitch. Now there’s a guy who lives hard. I’ll bet he gargles jet fuel in the mornings, gulps pots of frizzled coffee, runs on track-lit dreams and deep money-need, the city’s blunt promise of more, more. Always more. We need it, don’t we? Time, hair, psychotherapy, youth, fuel, pleasure, analgesics, headspace, vitamins - and money. I was just happy we limped to a stop, at the corner of Veck and Main. I stepped out from the car and got ambushed by a lurking curb grate. I was okay, no problem, just face-down in the steaming street. I yanked myself vertical, found my bearings, and I tubbily bowled on through a dizzying crosswalk. We had stopped a block short of my destination, a gizmo emporium on Franklin Ave. Looked like I would have to walk it.

My strides were bold, no-nonsense, as I lumbered past the signs and shops, the grottoes, the clearinghouses, the eateries. Whatever you needed was there. You could buy it, trade it, hock it, consume it. And you could smell it too. Steam from the hot tarmac, with strong emanations of mineral and bad egg, blended vapors from belching cars and streetside vendors, went trailing into my nose - and into my hair, my clothes, my eyes. I walked upstream among the morning commuters, the frowning sidewalk tramplers. I rounded Ninth and Main to see the looming business district, a bar graph of square-top buildings and glassy towers, prisms of turquoise and white and mean money-green.

I stopped to breathe (I mean pant) by a display window, the lit stall of a ladies’ boutique. Within the bright cube was something strange, a rather unsettling scene: a pale gallery of tranced mannequins, misangled and leaning like the dozing dead, many of them armless, all draped in scalloped ghost-gowns or frilly white frocks. The whole thing frankly shuddered me, right down to my carking feet. I turned to march on but found myself fixed, eye-locked by a mustachioed kook, an arm-flapper standing in the baffled street.

“Gilt Hammer, the time has come to pay!” he screamed. Indeed it had. I knew that voice. Oh yes, I knew it, and the anger coiled up behind it. It was him all right, and boy did he fit the bill, a seven-foot, fizzing lunatic, a real yowler. I felt anchored to the earth, drilled in.

“Gilt Hammer, the time has come to pay!”

How did I know this guy? The rockets of memory all fired at once, twirling toward the distant past. Surely I would hit on something. Nope. Misfires, every one of them. He must have been someone I duped or swizzled that year when I tried out flimflamming. It turns out I’m a lousy grifter. You wouldn’t believe how tough it is, trying to get over on people. Most guys, most gals, they’re smarter than you might think, and they don’t see the joke or the value in getting themselves gazumped. And this guy must have taken it to heart. Yeah, most of that year is lost now, sunk beneath the booze and the tranks and those experimental nights with a whip-wielding vampire named Sylvia Six. (Don’t ask, because I’m not answering.) As I watched the burled barker doing his thing, yelping away in the street there, something unbelievable happened. No, I really don’t think you’ll believe it.

A sharp-nosed speedster came knifing in. It parped and hootled its way toward him, but he wouldn’t move, our man. I blinked to find the maniac, all seven feet plus hair, cartwheeling over the length of the car. With a bounce or two on the blacktop, and a fine impersonation of a thrown bowling ball, he barreled over the curb to clang his face against a pole. As onlookers swarmed to help or take closeups, I walked on toward the gizmo gala on Franklin Ave, feeling vindicated, weightless. I was old Buzz Aldrin there, doing my lunar lollop. I had never felt so fine. It was poetry, you see. I had poetry on my side. Or was it irony? Either way, it’s potent stuff, and that morning was all smeared and slathered with it.

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KENDRA – TEEN IDOL (FALL SESSION) 2

FACEBOOK / INSTAGRAM / FLICKR / TWITTER photo by: Roman Kajzer @FotoManiacNYC

You can see the entire session here: KENDRA – FALL SESSION

TEEN IDOL

A teen idol is a celebrity with a large teenage fan-base. Teen idols are generally young but not necessarily teenaged. Often teen idols are actors or singers, but some sports figures also have an appeal to teenagers. Some teen idols began their careers as child actors, like Leif Garrett, Lindsay Lohan, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, and Hilary Duff.

The idol’s popularity may be limited to teens, or may extend to all age groups. Many teen idols are targeted for adults for nostalgia purposes.

There were teen idols before there were teen magazines, but idols have always been a permanent feature in magazines such as Seventeen, 16 magazine, Tiger Beat and Right On! in the United States, and in similar magazines elsewhere. With the advent of television, teen idols were also promoted through programs such as American Bandstand, The Ed Sullivan Show, Soul Train and in the UK Top of the Pops. Today’s teen idols have spawned an entire industry of gossip magazines, television shows, YouTube, and whole television channels such as E!.

Many American teen idols achieve "cross-over" success internationally; however, this list is not limited to American artists alone with some people such as German popstar Bill Kaulitz of the pop-rock band Tokio Hotel. In Asia, idols range from Japanese pop megastars Ayumi Hamasaki and Namie Amuro as well as Kana Nishino and Japanese music groups such as Momoiro Clover Z, Morning Musume, AKB48, and Perfume and Johnny & Associates boy bands Arashi, NEWS, KAT-TUN, and Hey! Say! JUMP among others while Chinese pop icon Jay Chou and Jolin Tsai, music groups F4 and Lollipop F, and South Korean singers BoA and Rain and music groups TVXQ, 2PM, 2AM, Beast, Shinee, EXO, Super Junior, f(x), 2NE1, BIGBANG, Wonder Girls, BTS, T-ara, Kara and Girls’ Generation are examples. In Latin America, idols ranges from Mexican pop stars Thalía, Timbiriche, Lynda Thomas, Magneto, Puerto Rican born Mexican Luis Miguel, Puerto Rican singer Marc Anthony, and the very popular Puerto Rican boy band Menudo in the 1980’s and 1990’s, and Paty Cantú, Anahi, Belinda. Ha^Ash and RBD in the 2000s and 2010’s. Besides, former Menudo member Ricky Martin, their chief rivals Los Chicos and former member Chayanne, Venezuelan actor and singer Guillermo Davila and more, to Argentina, where telenovela, Chiquititas, ushered in a new era of teen-idols for that country, including actors Benjamin Rojas, Felipe Colombo, Luisana Lopilato and Camila Bordonaba, who went on to form teen band Erreway, precursors to Mexican band RBD. In Spain, La Oreja de Van Gogh, Miguel Bose, Mecano and Hombres G all enjoyed teen-idol status. Even in the classical music field, a British-Chinese violinist Vanessa-Mae became the first "teen idol" in that category.

In the past, young sports icons and Olympic athletes during their competitive times were considered teen idols such as Jean-Claude Killy, Peggy Fleming, Joe Namath, Dorothy Hamill, Mark Spitz, Jim Craig, Nadia Comăneci, Mary Lou Retton, Michael Jordan, Dominique Moceanu, Michelle Kwan, Carly Patterson, Shawn Johnson, Nastia Liukin, Michelle Wie, Mia Hamm, Ryan Lochte, Michael Phelps, Missy Franklin, Katie Ledecky, Shaun White, Apolo Ohno, Simone Biles, Tom Daley, McKayla Maroney, and Gabby Douglas.

Early teen idols

The first known person to have been treated as a teen idol was Franz Liszt, the Hungarian pianist who, in the 1840’s, drew such a following among young women that the term "Lisztomania" soon came to describe the phenomenon. The kind of idolizing following Liszt drew in Europe would not be followed for several decades. Geraldine Farrar, American opera singer, had a large following of young women nicknamed "Gerry-flappers" in the early 20th century. Rudy Vallée, who became a major success in 1929 with hits like "Honey" and "Deep Night", may have been the first American popular singer to have been idolized by hundreds of teen-aged girls at sold-out concerts. He was also possibly the first popular singer to have a star vehicle created for him: The Vagabond Lover. Frank Sinatra, whose early career is often linked to his appeal to bobby soxers, is also regarded as having been amongst the first teen idols.

1950’s–1960’s

The great success of young rock stars like Elvis Presley and Pat Boone, film stars like Marlon Brando, Paul Newman, James Dean, Tab Hunter, and Sal Mineo in the 1950’s, as well as the wider emergence of youth subcultures, led promoters to the deliberate creation of teen idols such as singers Frankie Avalon, Fabian Forte, Frankie Lymon, and Connie Stevens. Even crooners like Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra were still considered idols and rather handsome. Actors Edd Byrnes and Troy Donahue and other artists deliberately cultivated a (safer) idol image, like Paul Anka.

Anka initially modelled himself on a particular generic type, the teen idol [who] carried on the process … of changing the image of male youth … from wild to mild, by providing a cleaner, more wholesome image of masculinity than that of the previous era’s rebellious rockabilly heroes and (working-class) so-called juvenile delinquents, like those in West Side Story….

Post-war teens were able to buy relatively inexpensive phonographs — including portable models that could be carried to friends’ houses — and the new 45-rpm singles. Rock music played on 45’s became the soundtrack to the 1960’s as people bought what they heard on the radio. The great majority of the music being marketed to 1950’s teens was being written by adults, but 1960’s teens were increasingly appreciating and emulating artists closer to their own age, to teen fashion, and to lyrics which addressed their own concerns. Their parents worried about their attraction to artists (and DJs) who were edgy and rebellious. Faces on magazines fed fans; fans buy records, see films, watch TV and buy fashions.

Marketing of the teen idol generally focuses on the image…. The teen idol is structured to appeal to the pre-teen and young teen female pop audience member and children in general…. [They] are commodified in forms and images that are relatively non-threatening to this young audience and to the ancillary market of parents… The teen idol never appears to be autonomous and therefore never appears to be threatening as an adult; he remains, as long as he is popular, perpetually childlike and dependent.

Some marketers turned to film and TV for fresh, attractive, ‘safe’ faces. Tommy Sands’s debut in a television film about the phenomenon, The Idol, made a teen idol out of Sands himself. Ricky Nelson, a performer of rockabilly music, also became a teen idol through his parents’ television series, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet. Some young TV stars were being hustled into studios to make recordings; for example, ex-Mousketeer Annette Funicello became one of the first big female idols as well as the Lennon Sisters whom had cut out dolls and were always on the covers of the gossip magazines; another, Johnny Crawford of The Rifleman, had five Top-40 hits. In 1963, Luke Halpin made a big splash as a teen idol in the television program Flipper. After Bye Bye Birdie was released in 1963, Bobby Rydell became an instant teen idol.

In the 1960’s as situation comedies and dramas on television using child actors became more popular, actors Paul Petersen, Patty Petersen, and Shelley Fabares from The Donna Reed Show, Dwayne Hickman from The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, Sally Field of Gidget, Jon Provost of Lassie, Jay North from Dennis the Menace, Billy Mumy of Lost in Space (and later of novelty group Barnes and Barnes), Sajid Khan of Maya, and Keith and Kevin Schultz known as the "Schultz Twins" on The Monroes all became younger preteen idols and grew into being teen idols.

Likewise, Tommy Steele, the Beatles with Beatlemania, the Rolling Stones, and the Beach Boys were teen idols, especially during the earlier part of their careers, although they quickly grew out of that status. The Rolling Stones did it through a more rebellious image, the Beatles did it through their more developed (or "grown up") music. Similarly, Neil Sedaka had two distinct eras of his career, with about a decade in between: one as a teen idol in the 1960’s, and a later career in adult contemporary music. From the family band the Cowsills, Susan Cowsill, John Cowsill and Barry Cowsill became teen idols and were on teen magazine covers for many years. Many of the teen idols of the era were the sons of older, established stars; Dino, Desi & Billy were active as teen idols during the mid-sixties. The group included Desi Arnaz Jr (son of bandleader Desi Arnaz), Dean Paul Martin (son of singer Dean Martin), and Billy Hinsche (a mutual friend whose parents were not famous). Gary Lewis, son of comedian Jerry Lewis, fronted the Playboys during this era.

All of the Monkees became instant teen idols in the late 1960’s after their TV show became an overnight success, especially for Micky Dolenz and Davy Jones. The British born member of the Monkees Davy Jones was regularly featured in all time teen idol lists. In 2008, Yahoo Music named Jones the number one teen idol of all time, and in 2009 he was ranked second in a list compiled by Fox News. Davy Jones still to this day tends to win many number one’s and the top of the list in best teen idol contests.

Tiger Beat magazine, an influential teen music magazine, began publishing in 1965.

1970’s

After Davy Jones came Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy, who held the title of Teen Idols from the late 1960’s until the mid-1970’s. Both Sherman and Cassidy were actors on television and chart topping musicians in the pop-rock category at the time; with David Cassidy in particular enjoying immense international fame and success. Sherman was on hit TV shows Shindig! and Here Come the Brides among many others. Musical series such as Cassidy’s The Partridge Family, the animated series The Archie Show, and (to a lesser extent) The Brady Bunch integrated television and teen-pop music to significant success during this time frame. The Brady Bunch’s Barry Williams and Christopher Knight, as was tennis pro/actor Vincent Van Patten all were constantly in the fan magazines at the time. Actors Richard Thomas, Robby Benson, Peter Barton, Leif Garrett, Mark Lester, Jan-Michael Vincent, William Katt, and Jack Wild were the talk of the teenagers in the 1970’s as well. Musicians the Hudson Brothers were on many teen magazine covers for a number of years as teen idols. They had two shows on TV during the 1970’s and recorded many albums.

One of the features of many teen idols is that their fans (and, in some cases, the musicians themselves) tend to develop a distaste for the music once they became adults, and it is not much listened to by adults, except for nostalgia: the legacy of bubblegum pop. Teen idol performers in this category would include Shaun Cassidy, Leif Garrett, the Osmond Brothers (particularly Donny Osmond and their teen idol sister Marie Osmond), Andy Gibb, Tony DeFranco of the DeFranco Family, and the Bay City Rollers. Even modern classic hits and oldies outlets, which cover this time period, rarely play cuts from the teen idols of the era. A notable exception is Michael Jackson of the Jackson Five, who began his career as a teen idol along with his brothers, but whose individual career eventually evolved far beyond the limitations of that description and into super-stardom.

The Jackson Five were the first African-American music group to become national teen idols, appearing alongside white idols in magazines such as 16 and Tiger Beat.

1980’s

In 1985 actress Alyssa Milano from Who’s The Boss became a major teen idol and was dubbed "The Teen Queen of the 1980’s. In the mid-1980’s there was a group of young actors called the Brat Pack; the whole group collectively and separately became teen idols. They were Emilio Estevez, Anthony Michael Hall, Rob Lowe, Andrew McCarthy, Demi Moore, Judd Nelson, Molly Ringwald, and Ally Sheedy. They starred in many coming-of-age films. The film that would help invent and popularize the genre was Francis Ford Coppola’s coming-of-age drama film The Outsiders (1983), which starred C. Thomas Howell, Ralph Macchio, Matt Dillon, Patrick Swazye, Diane Lane, Rob Lowe, Leif Garrett, Emilio Estevez, and Tom Cruise. The movie would receive critical acclaim, and would also become a box office success, and later a cult classic.

Actors such as Patrick Swazye, Matt Dillon, and Tom Cruise were teen idols who would later become successful A-list celebrities.

Actors Corey Feldman and Corey Haim also became teen idols during the later part of the 1980’s with films The Goonies and together The Lost Boys, Dream a Little Dream and License to Drive among other films. They were dubbed "the two Coreys". Before Corey Haim’s death in 2010, they did a reality TV show for two seasons (2007–08) on A&E named The Two Coreys after their 1980’s moniker.

Actor River Phoenix during his teen years became a teen idol during the later part of the 1980s.Phoenix’s work encompassed 24 films and television appearances, and his rise to fame led to his status as a "teen idol".On October 31, 1993, Phoenix collapsed and died of drug-induced cardiac arrest on the sidewalk outside the West Hollywood nightclub The Viper Room at the age of 23.

Australian-American singer Rick Springfield was regarded as teen idol from 1971, after releasing his solo début single "Speak to the Sky". His career matured over the next two decades with more hit songs. He gained further fame as a television series actor.

In the 1980’s, Puerto Rican boy band Menudo, caused a sensation in Latin America, nicknamed Menudomania that became compared to the Beatles’ Beatlemania.

Also painted with the Beatlemania brush was British pop group Duran Duran. Dubbed "the Fab Five", this group is recognized as pioneers in the then relatively new area of music video, that started with the Monkees in the 1960’s. Their exotic videos, such as Hungry Like the Wolf, being fixtures on cable channel MTV coupled with their exposure in teen magazines instilled them as teen idols in America and around the world though the majority of the 80’s. Another British pop band Culture Club were dubbed teen idols, with Boy George’s androgynous outfits that were copied by his teen fans and young adults alike.

At the end of the 1980’s, actor Kirk Cameron became a major teen idol teenage heartthrob. Cameron was best known for his role as Mike Seaver on the television situation comedy Growing Pains from 1985 to 1992. Also Scott Baio and Willie Aames of Charles in Charge fame found themselves regulars in teen magazines.

In popular music, the late 1980’s was the boom of teenagers dominating the music charts. Debbie Gibson became the youngest person to write, perform and produce a number-one single, "Foolish Beat", and also had many hits from her first two albums. Tiffany, another teen icon, became a pop sensation at 15 years old thanks to an aggressive marketing strategy. She promoted her debut album in shopping malls of the US. She is also the youngest person to have a debut album hit number one and have multiple number one singles from that album ("I Think We’re Alone Now" and "Could’ve Been"). Having become a household name, she had then-unknown band New Kids on the Block as an opening act for her shows. However, the sudden popularity of the New Kids caused their roles to be reversed. Gibson and Tiffany’s careers had stalled by the early 1990’s; so had NKOTB by the mid-nineties. The other boy band from Boston, New Edition was very popular with the teen set by the end of the 1980’s as well.

Madonna, was another example of teen idol and became a fashion icon between teenagers. Even, professor Joseph Straubhaar in the book Communications Media in the Information Society (1997) called a teen idol by 1992 year.

1990’s

The manufacturing of teen idols has been marketed more aggressively and with greater sophistication since the 1980’s. The rise of MTV in the 1980’s and the success of the boy bands of the 1990’s and 2000’s has continued to fuel the phenomenon. Besides a combination of good, clean-cut looks and a ubiquitous marketing campaign, such bands typically include a variety of personality types (e.g. "the shy one", "the smart one", etc.) Classic examples of "boy bands" include Menudo, New Kids on the Block, Take That, Backstreet Boys, and ‘NSYNC, all becoming the best selling pop groups of the decade. Hanson was initially marketed as such a band, but eventually outgrew this label to become a successful indie band. Female pop super star Mariah Carey, was very popular with teens in the 90’s decade. Christina Aguilera, Jennifer Lopez, Mandy Moore, Jessica Simpson, and Britney Spears, along with mega girl groups the Spice Girls and Destiny’s Child, also became very popular at the end of the decade. Other notable examples from the 1990’s are female R&B singers Mýa, Aaliyah, Monica, and Brandy. After Brandy’s television show Moesha went on the air, it brought her many teen fans and she was always on the cover or in the teen magazines for many years. Brothers Nick Carter from Backstreet Boys and pop star Aaron Carter were both teen idols in their heyday, as was, to a much lesser extent, sister Leslie. Robbie Williams of boy band Take That had teen idol status as did Ricky Martin during the Latin music explosion of the late 1990’s.

Many of the major teen idols in the 1990’s were from boy bands and musical acts. One major exception was the situation comedy Home Improvement ‘s Jonathan Taylor Thomas, who appeared from 1991 to 1998, but never embraced his stardom. Another major teen idol was Freddie Prinze, Jr. who skyrocketed to teen heartthrob status after starring in successful teen horror films.

The 1997 film Titanic made Leonardo DiCaprio a teen idol; during "Leo-Mania" his face appeared on many teen magazines. Other teen idols from TV were most of the cast of Saved by the Bell, Joshua Jackson and James Van Der Beek of Dawson’s Creek, Ben Savage and Rider Strong of Boy Meets World, Joseph Gordon-Levitt of 3rd Rock From the Sun, Jonathan Brandis of seaQuest DSV, Jared Leto of My So-Called Life, Joey Lawrence of Blossom (and to a lesser extent, Joey’s brothers, Matthew and Andrew), Jason Priestley and Luke Perry of Beverly Hills, 90210 fame, and Erik Von Detten of various TGIF shows. These actors were often found on the covers and pages of teen magazines during the 1990’s as teen idols as well. Sarah Michelle Gellar was a major teen idol in the late 90’s, as a result of her lead role in the popular television series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Fraternal twin sisters and TV actresses Ashley Olsen and Mary-Kate Olsen were major tween idols, and as they grew up they later became teen idols during the 1990’s. After the movie Clueless, Alicia Silverstone found herself a teen idol. The comedy duo of Kenan Thompson and Kel Mitchell are also teen idols, in which they star in the Nickelodeon sketch comedy All That, their own sitcom Kenan & Kel, and the 1997 film Good Burger. Nickelodeon also produced The Amanda Show which featured Amanda Bynes as well.

2000’s

The Walt Disney Company and its numerous outlets (e.g. Disney Channel, Radio Disney and Walt Disney Pictures) have successfully developed a new generation of teen idols. In the early 2000’s, the company developed the careers of actresses and singers Hilary Duff and Lindsay Lohan, initially targeting youth and female teen audiences. While still teenagers, Duff became famous for her starring titular character in the Disney Channel teen sitcom Lizzie McGuire, and Lohan became famous for her starring roles in many successful teen movies, including Freaky Friday, Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, Herbie: Fully Loaded, and Mean Girls. Other Nickelodeon and Disney Channel stars are also teen idols, including Jesse McCartney, Raven-Symone, Kyla Pratt, Ashley Tisdale, Vanessa Hudgens, Drake Bell, Josh Peck, Emma Roberts, Miranda Cosgrove, Miley Cyrus, Victoria Justice, Jennette McCurdy, Elizabeth Gillies and the Jonas Brothers.

In 2002, Canadian singer Avril Lavigne dominated the music scene and eventually became a worldwide teen idol. Listed at number 4 on Yahoo!’s Top 25 Teen Idols of all-time. Other teen idols are in the R&B and hip-hop realm, including JoJo, Ciara, Keke Palmer and Chris Brown.

2010’s

Disney Channel stars Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato, YouTube star Becky G, and The X Factor alumni Little Mix have come to be teen idols. Ariana Grande was a popular teen actress before gaining mainstream popularity as a singer and teen idol.

In Japan, more and more "idol groups" have appeared. In Japanese culture, persons called "idols" are media personalities in their teens and early twenties who are considered particularly attractive or cute and who will, for a period ranging from several months to a few years, regularly appear in the mass media, e.g. as singers for pop groups, bit-part actors, TV personalities, models in photo spreads published in magazines, advertisements, etc. One of the most successful groups is Momoiro Clover Z. Their performances incorporate elements of ballet, gymnastics, and action movies. During 2016, about 636 thousand people attended their live concerts, which was the highest record of all female musicians in Japan. The group has been ranked as the most popular female idol group from 2013 to 2016.

Since their rise to fame in recent years, pop singer and YouTube sensation Justin Bieber, country-pop musician Taylor Swift, boy band One Direction, pop rock band 5 Seconds of Summer, and girl group Fifth Harmony have become examples of modern-day mega teen idols who have achieved international success, known for their devoted teen female fans, as well as an adult fan base making them all international superstars as well as teen idols.

LINKS:

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teen_idol en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Model_(person) en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Junior_idol en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Korean_pop_idol en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_idol en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Japanese_gravure_idols en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sex_symbol en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pin-up_model en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celebrity_worship_syndrome

Posted by FotoManiacNYC on 2015-11-12 12:44:06

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New Review from Jeff York of Creative Screenwriting Magazine: “Haunt” Conjures Up Fresh Scares in Its Familiar Setting

The new horror movie Haunt starts with a simple, yet potent premise. Its setting is one of those makeshift haunted house attractions that pop up in vacant storefronts or suburban lots around Halloween to challenge customers to “survive” its maze of scares. The college kids who enter the one in this film have no idea just how much pain will go into the painstakingly real thrills and chills they’ll soon be experiencing. The house’s positive Yelp rating that says “all proceeds go to the Red Cross” is lost on them, but the cheeky line will not be lost on a savvy audience.

This frightener has a lot that will be familiar to horror fans, starting with its “final girl” lead. Katie Stephens plays Harper, a morose college student with a neglectful boyfriend and painful memories of her unhappy home. She has no desire to participate in Halloween, but her girlfriends drag her out for the night anyway. Her BFFs are Angela (Shazi Raja), costumed in scrubs, the flapper-dressed Mallory (Schuyler Helford), and Bailey (Lauryn Alisa McClain) essaying the proverbial sexy kitty.

At a local watering hole, Harper meets Nathan (Will Brittain), another reluctant partier, hastily dressed for the occasion in his college baseball uniform. He pulls up Harper’s scarlet hoodie to get her into the Halloween spirit by telling her she’s Red Riding Hood. Indeed, it won’t be long before Harper, and her buddies run into some big, bad wolves awaiting them at Haunt, a horror house attraction in the middle of nowhere. Boisterous bud Evan (Andrew Caldwell), with a Haunt flyer in his hand, rescues them all from the boring bar and drives them out to the boonies.

Katie Stephens

As they pull up to the location, a tall man wearing an ugly clown mask is standing there to greet them. He says nothing, acting perfectly ghoulish, even when they try to chat him up. The kids are handed instructions by their host, and they read aloud the instructions. All customers must surrender their cellphones, sign a liability waiver, and agree to play along with whatever the ‘cast’ inside acts out. Savvier kids would pass, especially having to – god forbid – give up their cellphones for 30 minutes, but these students are game, so they go along with it all.

The place has a ramshackle, Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibe, but that only adds to the challenge for these partiers. Once inside, the scares do come fast and furious. Skeletons pop out of walls, hallways narrow, and lights go out left and right. The ‘ghouls’ make it all the more immersive, as they’re all shrouded in oversized tunics and creepy masks. Before long, one tableau shows a crazy witch searing a hot poker into the face of a screaming co-ed. The six friends wonder if there’s more to this performance art since it seemed so real. Nonetheless, they forge on, still willing to play.

We’ve all seen horror movies like this before where the naïve teens get in deeper and deeper, failing to read the signs pointing to real menace and mayhem, but the fun of them comes in how filmmakers freshen such tropes. Fortunately, writer/directors Scott Beck and Bryan Woods are the guys who delivered the exquisite scares in their script for A Quiet Place back in 2018, so they know how to revitalize the genre. Time and time again, their film zigs when you think it’s going to zag, and that keeps us on our toes, as well as on the edge of our seats.

Andrew Caldwell and Katie Stephens

Especially in the last 40 minutes, Beck and Woods conjure some surprising bits and scares that most won’t see coming. The students will show more smarts, the villains will be revealed to be quite unique, and many of the house’s traps will genuinely disturb. Best of all is the consistent sense of dread throughout. The directors milk their claustrophobic setting for all its worth and don’t skimp on vivid gore either.

Where Beck and Woods don’t succeed as well is in fleshing out all of their six protagonists. Stephens is compelling as Harper, and she gets a good backstory, plus wise-guy Evan is a hoot, but the girlfriends are interchangeable and not particularly interesting. Mallory has an aversion to spiders, but that’s essentially the only trait she gets to play. Perhaps Beck and Woods are riffing on all those faceless sitting ducks lined up to be mowed down by the likes of Jason, Michael, and Freddy back in those 80’s slasher movies, but their characters in this decade should have more personality.

Frighteners like this, updating the sub-genre of slasher horror, succeed by how many scares they can deliver and how many tried-and-true tropes they can stand on their heads. This one succeeds admirably on most fronts. Sure, we’re often way ahead of the dolts fumbling and stumbling through the dark, but more often than not, the filmmakers are ahead of us in finding new ways to enliven the journey. Haunt is a brisk and stimulating ride, one you’ll likely come out of feeling spooked and quite satisfied.

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FEATURE: Why It Works: A Worlds Tour of Flip Flappers, Part One

Well, the fall season has ended and the winter isn’t yet in full swing, so I guess I’ve got a good excuse to give Flip Flappers one more look. With the full story concluded, we now have a clear picture of what Flip Flappers was all ultimately “about” - how its episodic adventures all fed into Cocona’s need to embrace her own identity, and how all the other characters of its world fit into her life story. But one of the great things about Flip Flappers is that you can examine it on all number of levels, from its overt stories to its character arcs, visual narratives, and underlying themes. And today I’ll do a little more investigation of just one of those levels - the significance behind each realm of Pure Illusion.

Most episodes of Flip Flappers see protagonists Cocona and Papika slipping through some kind of crack in the world to arrive at a new realm of Pure Illusion. Each of these worlds are beautiful and fascinating for their own sake, and they each contribute to Cocona and Papika’s journeys, but they’re not just random fantasy lands. As we learn later on, each realm of Pure Illusion actually reflects the thoughts and feelings of someone in the real world, and with the context of the whole show behind us, we can do a pretty solid job of pinning each fantasy world to someone we actually know. So let’s start at the very beginning, and explore what all these worlds say about the people who made them.

Cocona’s first journey into Pure Illusion brings her to a snowy wasteland, where the world she knows has fallen into ruin and the only inhabitants are massive, menacing beasts. This world is never given a clear one-to-one explanation, but it seems very likely that this is a world created by Cocona herself. Cocona feels she has no place in the real world, and always seems removed from the things happening around her. Her loneliness and isolation are vividly portrayed in this first Pure Illusion, along with a fear of others that inspires those imposing beasts. And Cocona’s initial reaction to this world is one of terror, to the point where when she finally leaves, she yells at Papika for putting both of them in danger.

  Her fear reflects her feelings about both herself and the world around - she is scared of making the wrong choices, and scared of embracing things that could eventually hurt her. But by the time Cocona returns to this world in the show’s final arc, she admits that she actually likes this place. Not only does this place remind her of first meeting Papika, who she loves, but those warm experiences with Papika have led her to love herself as well, in all of her cold and majestic beauty.

Frightened by that first experience, Cocona has no interest in returning to Pure Illusion with Papika. But in the second episode, her pet rabbit-thing Uexkull ends up getting sucked into a pipe, and Cocona is forced to chase after him. The world she emerges into is Uexkull’s mindscape - sometimes scary but always interesting, it is a world of technicolor backgrounds and rabbit-people. Cocona’s feelings here reflect both her tentative interest in the world around her and Uexkull’s general philosophy on life - if something exists, you should probably try chewing on it (a compulsion Cocona unsurprisingly fights against). Cocona is eventually constrained in this place by a tiny cage, reflective of the few fears Uexkull can consciously recognize, and when the rabbit himself arrives, he appears as the tremendous rabbit-hero he must be in his own mind. Flip Flappers’ second world works perfectly well as a standard adventure, but it’s also both a reflection of Cocona's fear of her own desires and an endearing look into the deep thoughts of a pet rabbit.

  The third world of Flip Flappers is a tricky one, a world we can’t definitively place until the very last episode. Trapped in a desert world and separated from Cocona, Papika finds herself in first a remote village, and then in the middle of a Mad Max-inspired showdown. Later on, she learns Cocona has been seduced by some kind of bondage witch. Cocona is only able to break free of this seductress when she acknowledges her own feelings - including uncomfortable ones, like her anger towards Papika. While this feverish wasteland does reflect Cocona’s uneasy relationship with her own anger and desires, this isn’t actually her world.

It’s only when Cocona eventually visits Pure Illusion technician Sayuri’s bedroom that we learn this is Sayuri’s fantasy, clear in her posters of Ben-Hur and Mad Max. This episode is also the first to introduce magical girl transformation sequences, making Sayuri’s love of Sailor Moon fairly understandable as well. Our internal worlds don't just reflect our feelings and ambitions - they also reflect the people and even media works we've loved, which offer frameworks for us to parse the world through. Where the bondage witch stuff comes from, you’ll probably have to ask Sayuri herself.

  ...well, it looks like I’ve reached the end of my article, and we’re still only three illusions in. There’s plenty more to cover, but Flip Flappers is a den of secrets well worth exploring for yourself, so I’ll give you all a week’s head start before returning to give my own thoughts on the rest of its worlds. And remember, even if poking at the inspirations for these worlds is fun, stories aren’t really about finding “the answer.” The ultimate truth of Flip Flappers’ internal worlds is that we all have such personal landscapes, and the nature of our own illusion deeply impacts what we find in media. How a new show fits into our personal wilderness, what we find there and what it teaches us about ourselves, is the true magic of storytelling.

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Nick Creamer has been writing about cartoons for too many years now, and is always ready to cry about Madoka. You can find more of his work at his blog Wrong Every Time, or follow him on Twitter.

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com