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marvelhero-fics · 5 years

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Silent Britain

Series - Prologue

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You and Tom are working as love interests in a new Scorsese film, essentially leading to be love interests in real life

A/N: Sorry, it’s been a hot minute since I've posted! Anyway, this is basically going to be a whole series. I have no idea how many parts it’ll be, and I’ll be updating at least every two weeks (but I’ll aim to update it weekly!) I thought it was kind of a fun idea so essentially in the film Tom plays a bad-boy mob members son, while the reader plays the opposing mob members daughter. Please enjoy! (This chapter is a bit of a slow-burn, but it’s essentially just setting up the plot and everything!)

Also, all the italics in this story are the readers thoughts!

Word Count: 1,500

Silent Britain Masterlist || Full Masterlist

Prologue

The uncomfortably loud alarm buzzed through your tired mind. A glance to your left told you it was 7:00 am. Time to get up. One arm reached out to turn your alarm off, while the other went to wipe your eyes as they opened sluggishly, adjusting to the illumination in your bedroom that crept through the blinds. Wasting no time, you moved your body from your large bed and stumbled your way to the kitchen. The house was quiet, no music playing, no TV’s on, signalling to you that your roommate/best friend, Evie, hadn’t woken up yet.

The thick script left on the dining table caught your attention. It was for an upcoming, untitled Nolan film. You’d been asked to read the script to audition, however you only made it about half-way through it last night. Looks like thats on today’s agenda.

Acting was your absolute passion. You’d been lucky enough to start your acting career about 4 years ago, acting in 2-3 bigger films, every-so-often working alongside a well known celebrity. Working alongside Robert Pattinson in dramatic indie film was pretty cool, considering you’d grown up around all the Twilight hype. Playing Brad Pitt’s daughter in another film was also a big moment in your career. Not to mention your recent role in the Emmy award winning show Big Little Lies really helping define who you were as an actress. Ever since then you’d been asked to audition for quite a few more roles. Shockingly, it actually took a bit of a turn on you. People recognised you more often, which meant it was harder to leave the house. It also meant you started comparing yourself to other actors your age, to which you never thought you’d live up too. Being rich and famous really wasn’t all it was cut out to be.

While mindlessly making breakfast, your phone began buzzing on the hard, marble bench top. It was your agent, Melissa.

“Hey, Mel.” You quickly answered,

“Morning, (Y/N), how’re you doing?” Her thick American accent sung through the phone. Melissa was from California. You weren’t, you were born and bred in England, and you’d continued living just outside of London throughout your career. It was just much easier having an agent closer to the action of Hollywood.

“Good, I’m a little tired, it’s like seven AM over here.” You responded,

“Well it’s 11 at night over here, but I’ve just received some fantastic news and I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“You’ve got my attention.” You chuckled slightly, leaning down to rest on the kitchen bench, ready to intently listen to whatever Melissa had to say.

“You remember that Scorsese film you auditioned for a while back, Silent Britain?”

Oh my god. “Yea, of course I remember, what about it?” Your palms became clammy and your voice shook slightly.

“You’ve been offered the role! You’re playing Elizabeth Baker!”

Your head immediately fell to your hands. You were just unbelievably over-joyed, you didn’t even know what to say. This would undoubtedly be your biggest role to date. “Mel, oh my god, this is such huge news, I really didn’t think I’d get it. This is so, so, so incredible.” You stood and began pacing the kitchen.

“It gets even better, guess who else is already signed on?”

“Who?”

“Tom Hardy is playing your father, Anthony Hopkins is playing your grandfather,” Your jaw had already hit the floor at this point, “Chrisitan Bale is also signed on, and Jude Law’s set to play one of the detectives.”

“Melissa, holy fuck.” You paused, “holy fuck. This- that’s so many actors, incredible actors-”

“And there’s plenty more to be signed on. So I’m assuming you’d like the role?”

“Of course I’d like the role!”

“I’m sending through all the paper-work and details for you to flick through, I’ll also mail over a script ASAP so you can go through the whole thing. You’ll have to fly out here in about 2 weeks for the initial meet up with Martin and the cast, so I’ll book that in now, and we can work out the rest of the details when you’re here, how’s that sound?” Melissa explained quickly,

“Yea, yea that sounds perfect, when’s filming set to start?”

“It says mid-June, which is in two months, if all the actors have been accounted for by that time.”

“Okay, I’ll get all my shit sorted out and I’ll see you in two weeks! Thanks so much Mel.”

And with that, the two of you hung up. Leaving you alone with your thoughts. A fucking Gangster Scorsese film. It doesn’t get better than that. That’s peak-of-the-career shit right there. Everything you did the rest of that day was purely in order to be organised for your flight. You hadn’t been this excited since you landed the role of Reece Witherspoon’s daughter in Big Little Lies. After screaming in pure bliss with Evie about the news, you went to your nearest shopping centre to get any possible supplies you may need. Shampoo, conditioner, dry shampoo, toothpaste, a power board, a charging cable, new comfortable clothes, not that you really needed anymore, new nicer clothes, not that you fucking needed anymore, the list went on. Evie even came with you, as if your impulse control wasn’t already low, Evie made it plumet, suggesting you needed every second thing she laid her eyes on. You even bought a notepad with the Taxi Driver movie poster on the cover because Scorsese directed that too, and it’ll be funny incase I ever need to take notes.

You shut the boot of your car, hopping into the driver's seat next to where Evie sat comfortably in the passenger’s seat.

“So who else is in the film? Besides Venom, Hannibal Lecter, Batman, and John Watson.” Evie smirked at her own joke,

“Ha ha. Very funny.” You stated, pulling out of the car park. “That’s all I know about at the moment, here” you passed her your phone, “check my emails, I might’ve gotten an update.” Evie took the phone from your hands and held it to your face to unlock it.

“Melissa Bradd sent another email, with attached file, more details…” Evie muttered, mainly to herself as she opened the document. “Hmm, Anthony Hopkins, Tom Hardy, you-” Evie gasped heavily.

“What, what is it?” You quickly interjected.

“I’m going to shit my pants, I’m gonna actually die right here, right now-”

“Evie, what the fuck!? What is it?!” You almost wanted to pull over the car.

“Timothee Chalamet is playing Joseph Baker, your brother!” She practically shrieked. Christ. Obviously you adored Timothee’s work, he was incredible and so devoted, but Evie absolutely adored him, for a long time now.

“Oh my god,” you uttered, just above a whisper. Reacting to not only Evies reaction, but also that another big name was going to be on screen beside you. “Anyone else?”

“It doesn’t even fucking matter who else is in it!” Evie sung, flailing her arms in the air.

“Evie, who else is in it!” You repeated, feeling a little on edge. Her gaze returned back to the phone screen, her excitement still clearly coursing through her veins.

“So far, Finn Wolfhard is set to play your younger brother, and Michael Fassbender and Christian bale are signed on as your uncles,” She read.

It was at this moment, your hands really started shaking. You tried gripping the wheel as tightly as you could, but it honestly felt like most of the blood in your body was vanishing, you didn’t seem to have control over much of anything, especially not your breathing. Evie looked over at you.

“Hey, (Y/N/N), you okay? You’re kind of looking a bit pale.” She spoke quietly,

“That’s a lot of big actors, Evie.” You responded, your mouth entirely dry.

“Yea, but you’re a big actor too, you know. You’ve been in some big films!” She lightly tried to reassure you.

“Eve, I’ve been a background character in like 3 big films.” You peered over to her, quickly returning your glare back to the road.

“You’re in Big Little Lies, that’s a big show.”

“I’m a daughter, I’m not a main character at all. This movie, I’m a fucking huge character in this movie. This movie practically fucking revolves around me, Tom Hardy, and Hopkins.” Your voice elevated as you spoke.

“Let’s just get home, and then we can talk it all through.” Evie said calmly, clearly not paying much mind to what you’d just said. You nodded in response. And, as if on cue, your phone chimed.

“What was it?” As you asked, Evie began scrolling through your phone.

“Another email from Melissa.”

“And?...”

“A couple more actors signed on.”

“And?...” Your head was far too close to exploding.

“Well, Rachel Weisz is playing your mum, and Daniel Craig is another uncle,” Evie was speaking softly, “Idris Elba is a detective, and- uhm- Tom Holland is your love interest…”

And there goes the explosion. “I need to pull over. I’m about to have a stroke.”

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dearyams · 4 years

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wanted to send you a prompt i was gonna do but i am too lazy prompt: mike and will have been dating but havent said i love you, mike is going on some trip for a week where cell phones dont work (obv future fic) and so Byeler is having a phone convo before mike arrives at his destination and they wont be able to talk to each other a week and will says tells mike he loves him but before mike can respond the phone disconnects as Mike arrives at the destinationn

[ crossposted on AO3 ]

“Finished packing yet?”

Mike turns from his suitcase and the clothes piles spread about the floor in his room and grins when he spots Will leaning on the doorframe a few feet away. He’s got two iced coffee cups in hand, indicative of finishing his part-time hours at the local coffee shop a few blocks north from the Byers residence. Mike wonders if Will biked his way over or took a lift with his brother to come visit before the Wheelers make their way on an impromptu trip to upstate New York at a cabin his dad had recently inherited.

The kneeling boy waves his hands at the disorderly state surrounding him and shrugs. “I’m trying and failing at packing the right clothes for this venture, I’ll say that.”

Will chuckles and walks fully into the room. He passes along Mike’s coffee, shoving around haphazardly folded pants to find a seat on the floor beside the other boy. Mike watches him grab a sweater and toss it aside. “It’s summer so you don’t need to pack heavy. Just grab some t-shirts and jeans; that should do. Shorts too if you’d like.”

“Sure,” sighs Mike before sipping from his cup. “I don’t want to make the visit miserable if I’m wearing the wrong clothes. Wrong for the weather and wrong for looking tolerable in the photos I know Mom is gonna force on me.”

Will laughs, a gentle breeze in the summer’s heat. “You’ll look good in whatever you put on.”

“As my boyfriend, you’re kind of obligated to say that.”

“Not really.” the brunette leans in to kiss Mike’s cheek. “I’ll let you know when you look bad if only for the sake of my own eyes.”

“And when you won’t be next to me, how will you judge my outfits properly?”

Will checks his watch and hums. “When’s your departure? If you have time, you can try out some of the outfits and I’ll let you know what works.”

Mike grins as he reaches over Will’s lap and snags a band t-shirt. “Sneaky aren’t you; tryna get me undressed.”

“I’ll cover my eyes.” Will places his unoccupied hand over his eyes but spreads his fingers between his middle and ring fingers to peek through the opening. Mike scoffs, tossing a stray pair of shorts at his face which makes the brunette laugh heartily. Mike already misses Will, the knowledge that they’ll be separated for a week squeezing his heart dry with romantic despair. He wishes Will could come with but the trip was pretty unplanned and though Mike's “job” as a blog writer and editor doesn’t require a remote location, Will’s job doesn’t allow the same ease when taking off work.

(Though Mike thinks he’ll probably still be working offline on an article if his mom doesn’t steal his laptop for “family bonding in the forest” time.)

Mike’s sudden fashion show lasts for about an hour and while Will does offer good input, most of that hour is spent playing around and Mike sneaking in as many kisses as they can get away with whenever Mike peels off a shirt and struggles to get his head through the tight collar of another. Afterwards, Will helps finish packing and when completed, they lounge about on Mike’s bed as Will discusses the customers he met earlier in the day.

Though he knows packing just mere hours before departure isn’t a habit he should develop, especially when the plans for his career require frequent traveling, he spent the night before editing a movie review scheduled for posting during the drive. Mike doesn’t regret his momentary time mismanagement if it means he spends more time with Will before the trip. The article can wait—he’s posting it early anyway—but time spent with his boyfriend is always coveted.

When Mike’s mom knocks on the door, Will pulls away from Mike’s chest where he rested his head as they page through Mike’s hard copy of The Golden Compass which he wanted to review in line with the show’s release. Shaking his head and straightening his hair as best as possible, Mike struts to his door and opens it with raised eyebrows. His mom looks up from checking her phone and offers Mike a tight smile before looking past him to wave at Will.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you two,” she starts warmly, “but Mike, we have to get going soon. The traffic through the city is getting dense thanks to an accident on the 70.”

“Got it,” replies Mike as he turns back to Will, who walks to his side with both their empty cups in hand. “I’ll see you in a few days, Byers.”

“‘Course.” Will grins and leans up to press a gentle kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Call me when you’re getting close to your destination.”

“Sure, worrywart,” he teases but turns his face to kiss Will’s lips one last time before he has to depart. He watches Will nod bashfully at his mom and give her a short goodbye before making his way downstairs. Mike doesn’t look away until he hears the front door closing and then he casts his gaze on his mom. “Are Dad, Nancy, and Holly waiting outside?”

“Yes,” she nods toward the front of the house. “We’ll all just waiting on you now.”

It doesn’t take long for Mike to join his family at the car, and as his dad pulls out the driveway, Mike turns in the direction of the Byers and smiles when he sees Will on his bike a little ways down the road watching. He sticks his hand out the window, his wave only growing more frantic when Will waves back. Holly giggles and Nancy makes a side comment about love sick teenagers as if she wasn’t one herself during her escapades with Steve, Jonathan, and now Robin. The first hour and a half fills with Holly saying “moo” every time they pass a cow on the way to the interstate and Mike feels like smashing his head against his window when they pass a farm and Holly moos until she nearly passes out. Pulling out his phone, Mike shoots Will a selfie of himself despondently looking out the window and groans when his cell service takes its sweet time sending the message along. Mike gets a reply a reply twenty minutes later: Will laughing at his misery with a short additional, “you’ll be there before you know it,” and a bunch of kiss emojis.

The next hour passes with Mike flipping through his ever growing Will gallery, a digital photo album filled with selfies and candid shots of Will, both solo and with Mike. He’s not one for being in photos himself but Will manages to drag him into a few selfies here and there. He doesn’t mind snapping a selfie either by himself or together—cheeks squished as they both attempt to fit in the frame as Mike holds the phone up and out—because Will always asks him to send the photo along and then makes it his lock screen until the next time he convinces Mike it’s photo time.

After settling on a candid shot Mike snapped when he and Will visited Lovers’ Lake and the sun framed Will like a bright halo of fire, Mike settles on playing a mobile game for about another two hours before staring out the window until the trees blend together and his eyes find themselves sliding shut. He wakes up a few times here and there when the family stops at gas stations and picks up snacks—he definitely remembers his mom arguing with his dad about stopping at a hotel which they ultimately don’t do—but he wakes up for the final time to his phone buzzing in his lap, startling him out of a dream he quickly forgets upon waking. Caller ID tags the number as Will and he immediately answers as he scrambles for his headphones in his pocket.

“Hey,” he begins, shoving the headphone plug into the slot at the bottom of the device, “Is everything okay back home?”

“Everything’s great,” Will’s voice crackles on the line and Mike peaks outside in the darkness to notice the forest surrounding him. They must be close to the cabin destination already. He didn’t think he had slept for that long. “Just checking in since it’s about time you’ve arrived if your dad didn’t take a rest.”

Mike laughs. “You’re cute, you know, checking up on me like this.” He hears Nancy snorting and reaches over Holly to pinch her bare arm. She glares at him and covers Holly’s eyes to flip him off. “Nancy says hello by the way.”

“Hello back to her.” Mike can hear Will’s grin and his heart clenches in sorrow at the current distance between them. “Are you doing okay there?”

“Yeah, peachy.” Mike yawns and covers his mouth. “Is it too cheesy to say I already miss you?”

“Maybe, but I miss you, too, so you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”

A sleepy smile curls itself on Mike’s lips. “One week, Byers; one week and then I’m back.”

“Yeah, but don’t spend your time counting down the days, alright? I’ll do that for us both; you just have a great time at the cabin.”

Mike would kiss him if he could. “I’ll try my best but you know how my brain works.”

“Are you telling me it actually does work?”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Will laughs heartily. “Why are you laughing; I’m serious this time.”

“Sure, Wheeler.” Mike frowns as the last bit of his name gets caught in static. “Hey, I know this is probably something that should wait until you’re back but this separation made me realize I should tell you either way.”

“This sounds pretty important.”

“Yeah. I, uh, you probably already know this though but,” and Will takes a deep breath and releases it, though Mike hears it in short, split crackles. “Mike, I love you.”

The clarity in those four words stuns Mike into speechlessness and his mouth dries as his heart thumps speedily in his chest. Will is right, Mike already knows Will loves him, but this is the first time Will has ever said the fact out loud. I love you echoes in Mike’s head at the reverb levels of a rock guitarist. It takes far too long for his brain to come back online, but by the time it does, the car speeds past a brush of trees and the call suddenly drops. Mike looks down at his phone screen as the loud call dropped tone passes through his headphones. His home screen—a playfully disgruntled selfie as Will kisses his cheek—stares him back in the face as Will’s voice continues to bounce about in his head.

Mike, I love you.

Mike quickly calls back but his phone spits back the message that he has no service. “Nancy,” he hisses even though the entire car heard his part of his conversation with Will anyway, “do you have any service on your phone? I need to call Will back and my phone is being homophobic.”

Nancy raises her eyebrows but checks phone and shakes her head. “Looks like you’re straight out of luck.”

“Ha; you’re quite the comedian, aren’t you.” Mike reaches forward to tap his mom’s arm. “Mom, can I borrow your phone to finish a call?”

“Sorry, sweetie, I’ve lost service, too. I don’t think any of us can use internet on our phones.”

“Does the cabin at least have wifi?”

“Nope,” snorts Mike’s dad as he drives the car down a dirt road further into the forest. “You kids these days need to learn what life is like without cell phones anyway.”

Mike rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, “Okay, boomer.”

“What was that, young man?”

“Okay, bummer.” Nancy bites on her bottom lip and Mike sends her a grin before settling in his seat.

Their mom reaches a hand back to rest on Mike’s knee. “It’s only 7 days, Michael. I’m sure both you and Will can last that long without contact.”

He told me he loves me, Mom, he wants to explain but Will’s words are too fresh and far too private to blurt out in front of the whole family. He crosses his arms silently and turns to stare out the window, hoping that Will can wait out these next few days and hoping he doesn’t think Mike hung up on him after such an important conversation. I love you, too, he thinks to himself, smiling as he presses his hand against the chilly window and imagines Will on the other side as if the car window is the window in Will’s room and Will’s inside watching Mike with that ever so lovestruck grin filled with appreciation that Mike came over despite the cold night to comfort Will from the nightmares that occasionally plague him to this day.

I love you, Will, he repeats inwardly, wait for me.

#byler #byeler #mike wheeler #will byers #fluff #drabble #request finished #sidenote: i call the book 'the golden compass' because that's the title in the states!#on ao3

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harrysvintageguitar-blog · 6 years

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PHOTOGRAPHY HARRY ; chapter 1

"Bye mum!" were my last words as I saw her driving off, leaving me alone in a whole new world. Today, was my first day of university. I managed to scrape through my A-levels and get a decent enough grades to be accepted by Brighton Uni. Ever since I was little I have always wanted to do something with art as a career. I would pretend with my grandparents that I was some kind of fancy painter who sold their paintings for millions of pounds, we would do auctioneers selling my crumpled, messy drawings. But my grandparents pretended it was the greatest thing they had ever seen and even to this day they they have a box full in the loft of all my drawings, of course signed and dated. My grandparents were always one of my reasons for doing art when I was younger, just to see the smile my scribbles of a rainbow and some stick men would draw upon their faces. It's been 6 years since they had passed away, but whenever I created a new piece I would always try and remember their expressions looking at my work, even if it wasnt my best. That's what my first thought was, as Mum said her goodbyes, whilst I was stood on the curb with my suitcase and box of a few bits. Mum never seemed to be very interested in my life, I had to awkwardly ask for a lift as no one else could give me a lift. The ride there wasnt particularly enjoyable as the silence seemed to fog the air. So I decided to connect my phone to the aux cable and play some Fleetwood Mac to calm myself. I mean a fresh new start, new people and new places is the best thing to get me away from home. My thoughts were broken, when a girl started to wave in myself. I must've been daydreaming because she looked slightly impatient, but she gave me a soft smile when I regained focus. She was beautiful she had birght hazel eyes that matched perfectly with her tight curled black hair and olive skin. She wore a navy velevet crop top that tied around her waist with a pair of black jeans that stuck to her hips, showing off her hour-glass figure. "I'm Bobby" she gleamed as she gestured her had to me. I gave her a smile back and shook her hand "Violet" I replied. "Ah so you must be my room mate. Been waiting all day to meet you, you took your time!" she teased letting out a brief laugh. Immediately putting me at ease. "Follow me and I'll show you to our room." She said as she grabbed the box of my stuff and walking into the building ahead of us. The building was a basic uni stereotypical building, the typical grey building with a basic style to it, but it would have to do. "Heres your room" Bobby gestured to the little box room overlooking the carpark and other houses. "Thanks Bobby" "It's alright... um look me and some friends are going to a local pub near by to meet up with the other freshers. If you dont have plans do you want to come?" Her eyes were hopeful like a innocent puppy, how could I say no. "Oh, yeah, sure that sounds really cool" "YES! ok well be ready by 9 and then we can walk down together, cool?" she said excitedly. I nodded glad that my first year might not be going to complete rubish just yet. I locked the door behind me, sighing as I sat on the bare matress. I suppose I should unpack a bit as my room did seem a bit bare and I had hours to get ready so I had time. I unpacked my duvet covers that I'd taken from home, it had flowers on it that tied well together. However, you could still see some of the acrylic stains from when I had been too lazy to go and paint on my desk and then accidently knocked paint on it, but that added character. I set up my bed adding a pillow that Grandma had sewn together for me and I also hung up some coloured fair lights around the room to add a more homely look, along with my posters of some bands that I had seen back home. By the time I set up my room It had been 2 hours and I only had a hour to get ready, so I quickly set up my speaker and played a few songs from my playlist to try and boost my energy levels from travelling mostly all day. I hadn't had many clothes to choose from that weren't crinkled or just lunging around clothes, so I decided just to go for my normal day wear: a pair of blue 'mom' jeans and a white T-shirt with 'feminism' written in black across the front. My hair was no longer strait from where I straightened it this morning and curls were beginning to show so I put it in a quick pony tail, tucking my baby hairs behind my ears. As I had gone so basic on the outfit I thought it was right to spruce up the makeup a bit more, grabbing my orange eyeshadow palette that I had have since I was 15. I qucikly put some orange in my crease with my brush and a shimmery gold on top to add a more glam look and a bit of mascara to top it off. It was almost 9 so I grabbed my phone chucked it in my bag with my purse and tried to find Bobby. "Bobby!" "IM ALMOST READY! just give me five mins!" she called from her room. I took her word for it and grabbed my black converse and sat on the sofa which was positioned right next to the kitchen and positioned my self tying my laces. ~20 mins later~ "hey V, sorry I didnt know what to wear... ready to go?" she said as she brushed he hand through her hair. No one had ever called me 'V' before, but then no one really new my name let alone making a nickname for it, it felt good. She came out in a dress that was another velvet piece in green that tied around her hips exagerating her curves, with a pair of black heels. Making me feel very self concious about my outfit choice. "it's fine, nice dress by the way" I complemented trying to not make it seem awkward. "aw thankyou! I um love your bag." The brief pause didn't help my confidence but I decided to forget it and just go to the pub. We both walked down to the 'pub' as Bobby had described it, it was more like a casual club not a steak and chips place that I had imagined in my head. The place was called 'panther' there was a loud buzz of people and banging of music played through outside. But Bobby gave me a smile and pinched my hand as she lead me inside over towards a bar. There was a group of about 5 people standing around that seemed to be looking straight at us, they all hugged Bobby welcoming eachother untill they all stared at me obviously wondring who I was. "Oh guys this is my room mate Violet, thought she could use some company so be nice!" "hey nice to meet all of you" I smiled, they all laughed giving me hugs. There was Alex a who was tall and stood strong with baby blue eyes that shined against the light. Lucy, who Bobby seemed especially close with as they both had eachothers arms wrapped around their waists, I presumed that was her girlfriend, she had dark brown long hair that was around her shoulders, they just seemed to go perfectly together. There was also Niall a cute looking guy with blonde hair that stood sipping his pint of beer at the back smiling at me.Two other girls also stood next to Niall they both seemed as elegant as Lucy with their slim figures and perfect structured faces. By the time we all started talking I realised I hadn't yet got a drink and decided to swiftly move towards to bar,sitting on the sticky stool waiting for the bar tender to come over. It was nice to have a bit of space away from people just to regather myself, I had a quick scroll through my instagram feed looking at the people back home starting uni, wheni decided to turn it off and just to enjoy myself. Untill I heard the stool next to me be pulled out by a man with curly dark brown hair, he was looking me straight in the eyes. He had piercing green eyes that where mesmerising. "Hello" he said, his voice husky "I'm in a band" he grinned. "Does that line normally get you very far" I spluttered out not thinking what I was saying. "Didn't mean to offend you." His hands began to play with his ruby ring around his finger twirling it round almost nervously. He looked very comfy whilst wearing a knitted space jumper that looked exspensive, with a pair of flared blue jeans and vans, whilst he had sunglasses stirred into his curly hair. "I just thought I would come over and say 'hi', you seemed to be lonely sitting here all by yourself" a small smile began to grow across his face, as he began to look up at me. "I'm perfectly fine thanks, I'm here with my room mate so no need to worry im not alone" I joked letting out a small laugh. "Good to hear it" he beamed "I'm harry, just moved here, you?" he ignored my invitation for him to leave. "Violet, and so have I, are you at uni here too?" I began to get more comftable as his smile relaxed me. "Yeah I'm doing second year photgraphy, I just moved from London to Brighton as I fancided a change of scenery" he sighed. I didn't question his lack of enthusiam and ordered a drink for myself. He tried to pay for me but I refused I didn't need his money. But he insisted where I had to let him or he would of kept pestering me. For the whole night we both sat there talking about a load of nonsense like our favourite food and movie and about what we wanted to do in the future, obviously I had no idea or either did he like most students. He did talk about his band saying that his band mates are going to perform this weekend on saturday and that I should go, he seemed like a sort of guy to like my music taste so I couldnt see why not. "The band is called CHASM, and dont froget it cos' one day we'll be touring the world" we both laughed. For some reason the tinge of confidence that he had didnt seem rude to me it felt funny and almost warming as cringey as it sounded he started to grow on me. "Hey um look, heres my number" he typed his number in my phone and sent message to himself so he had my number too, making my eyes roll playfully. "Text me whenever you want and if you want to come along to one of our gigs" his dimples began to show as his mouth peaked. "Yeah sure, maybe see you around campus?" I tried to say casually like I knew what I was talking about. We said our good byes as Bobby was calling me to leave now as she had begun to get a bit tipsy. He hugged me into his arms in a bear hug, I could smell the scent of alcohol mixed with aftershave, but not too over powering that it was actually pleasant. Harry made sure we both were in a uber on the way home nice and safely, even though it was only a 10 minute walk. He insisted on walking us home himslef but he had already been too kind and I didn't want to push it. By the time he shut the door, Bobby immediately look at me with her brow raised, her make up slightly smudged and he strap of her dress fallen on her side. "he totally likes you you know" she giggled as the effects of alcohol took its toll. I just rolled my eyes at the comment, although it did feel nice for someone to pay attention to yourself occasionly AUTHORS NOTE: I hope you liked this it is my first time ever writing a fanfiction and If you like this then I would like to start a series to do with Harry and Violet (: x

#Harry Styles #styles #harry #fanfic #fanfiction #photography #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #brighton #harrys #photo

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dustedmagazine · 7 years

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Dusted Mid-Year, Part 2

Anthony Pasquarosa’s imaginary Western soundtrack got a lot of love, too.

We continue our mid-year switcheroo with the second half of our favorites (in alphabetical order by artist name) covering DREAMDECAY through Slowdive. If you missed part 1, check it out here.

DREAMDECAY — YÚ (Iron Lung)

YÚ LP (LUNGS-085) by DREAMDECAY

Who recommended it? Tobias Carroll

Did we review it? No

Ian Mathers’ take:

When this record first comes brawling and blaring out of the gate with the title track, it immediately brought to mind a couple of certified Dusted Approved Acts; namely, it sounds a bit like a hybrid of the rougher ends of Liars’ and Protomartyr’s discography. What ultimately makes YÚ such a strong (and distinctive) record on its own merits, though, is the band’s ability and willingness to work in different registers while still maintaining the same deadpan, noisy pulse, whether that’s the squalling “BASS JAM” or the eerie tones of “WITNESS/ALLOW.” The result is that the really relentless moments (like most of “JOY”) hit even harder, and in a tight 34-minute package the listener gets a precisely balanced and always compelling album that never loses its sense of either menace or triumph, as on the unexpectedly epic post-punk odyssey of “IAN.”

Kleistwahr — Music for Zeitgeist Fighters (Nashazphone)

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Pv8pAKXXkA

Who recommended it: Joseph Burnett

Did we review it? Nope

Eric McDowell’s take:

While it’s tempting — and entirely possible — to read Gary Mundy’s latest Kleistwahr project, Music for Zeitgeist Fighters, in light of its title as a soundtrack for the times, there’s also something otherworldly about these two side-long soundscapes. With its beautifully blinding tones and blistering textures, “Music for Dead Dreams” captures just the potent blend of pain and pleasure, gloom and hope that Dante witnessed on his journey through Purgatorio. Somewhere deep under the redemptive electronic roar a human voice lies buried, as tortured as it is awed. Bursting with cosmic paradox, the music seems on the one hand to speed ahead with the sensation of surfaces stripped away by immersive friction; on the other, it gives the listener that panned-back feeling of unutterable smallness, of being dwarfed by the infinite.

“Music for Fucked Films” sends us back down to earth, if not quite to reality. Where side one’s propulsive energy comes in part from its unwavering trajectory, side two is a more uncertain (and more distressing) affair. While like its counterpart the piece begins by building slowly, with a dull mass of vocals cut with electric guitar, abrupt shifts and directionless fragments — pooling organ, tinkling piano, oscillating sirens — breed tension and doubt. But we’re talking about “Fucked Films,” not Hollywood. Nor is Hollywood what we need right now.

Tift Merritt — Stitch of the World (Yep Roc)

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Who recommended it: Justin Cober-Lake

Did we review it? No

Ben Donnelly’s take:

Fifteen years in doesn't tend to be an auspicious time in songwriting careers. It often falls in the sour spot between the charms of breaking through and coming around again to provide veteran respect. With this batch of songs, Merritt, who emerged in the turn of the century No Depression country peak, does a lot more than plug away. For one thing, her singing voice on Stitch of the World has more of a warble than before, breathy yet more controlled, and it seems like she's expanded into register that's slightly higher than before. Her singing takes on a Dolly-like focus, clear and emotionally controlled. Something similar develops with her writer's voice as well. The ballads "Heartache Is an Uphill Climb" and “Something Came Over Me" feel like they've been around forever, with refrains that get to the heart of the matter and verses that leave enough imaginative space that one can sense them being covered in the future. The honky-tonk rockers are just as natural. "Proclamation Bones" shuffles along with whining slide guitar and chunky telecaster rhythms, capturing the rough melancholy of Exile-era Stones. And opener "Dusty Old Man" is the rare country song where the drumming is the lead. Stitch of the World captures a lifer presenting her best work yet, making the endurance look effortless.

Anthony Pasquarosa — Abbandonato Da Dio Nazione (VDSQ)

Who recommended it: Bill Meyer

Did we review it? Yes, Bill, who slipped it into the last Dust, called out “acoustic guitar figures that sound like they flew away from his 12 strings and up the walls of a canyon before they banked back and into your ears.”

Justin Cober-Lake’s take:

Guitarist Anthony Pasquarosa goes for a period piece with Abbandonato Da Dio Nazione. His godforsaken country lies partly in history and partly in myth, coming as much from Spaghetti Westerns as from the actual late19th century western lore (as if we can tell those apart anyway). Pasquarosa primarily focused on his solo guitar work here, so the disc is far more in line with his primitive work than his punk influences, but is primarily driven by world-shaping. If the early recognition of his experiment (aided by gunshots and hoofbeats) yields a smile, the growing structures and intricate picking lead to deeper reflection. The questing “What Makes a Man” moves out of showdown territory, but it's the lakeside picnic before the black hats come back with reinforcements. As a film genre exercise, the album holds up on its own; I'd watch this movie today. But it's exceptional in its musical qualities, both in structure and performance, and something far more than the novelty that its concept might suggest. Maybe most important, it's just plain fun.

Pharmakon — Contact (Sacred Bones)

Who recommended it: Olivia Bradley-Skill

Did we review it? Yes, Joseph Burnett called Ms. Chardiet “one of the most exciting noise artists currently pouring molten lead into the world’s blackened ears” in his review.

Mason Jones’ take:

At six songs and just 32 minutes, Contact is wisely kept at a manageable length, as Margaret Chardiet's latest missive is too intense for it to go any longer. The cover photo, showing hands grasping at a sweaty face and head as if they can't get enough, is the perfect representation of the album title and leads directly to "Nakedness of Need,” the first track. Slow, heavy tones and ominous thuds evolve into distorted, buzzing fields of anxiety as shrieks and ululations can't help but bring to mind early Diamanda Galas. Quieter, uneasy listening dwells in other songs, particularly the aptly-titled "Somatic,” a queasy interplay of tones that won't put you to sleep but may give you waking nightmares. Chanted vocals and pulsing electronics throughout the album make it feel like a blend of Master/Slave Relationship and SPK, among other early experimental forebears, but this is no retread of any sort. The fuzzy, pulsating sonics are like a modernized SPK, but it's Chardiet's tense vocals that are the core of Pharmakon's emotional power. That said, putting this album on requires a commitment, as that emotional output is aimed at the listener and you'll need to be ready to absorb it. While Pharmakon's previous album Bestial Burden had its share of powerful moments, Contact goes for the jugular more forcefully. At this rate listening to the next album will simply cause spontaneous combustion of the listener. Looking forward to it.

Stephen Riley & Peter Zak — Deuce (Steeplechase)

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Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek did, observing that “(T)heir partnership is every bit as deserving of close consideration alongside the classic tandem associations in jazz.”

Bill Meyer’s take:

Given that its title openly celebrates duality, it’s worth considering where this record fits on the spectrum bounded at one end by Matthew Shipp’s dictum that jazz is a verb and the other by the proclamation that jazz is dead. Saxophonist Stephen Riley and pianist Peter Zak aren’t pushing the boundaries that Shipp has, but there’s certainly nothing dead about their relaxed but entirely engaged explorations of material rooted in the aesthetics of the middle of the 20th century. Lightly blue-shaded but steeped more in love than melancholy, this music isn’t changing anyone’s life but it’s easy to enjoy.

Shadow Band — Wilderness of Love (Mexican Summer)

Wilderness Of Love by Shadow Band

Who recommended it? Ben Donnelly

Did we review it? No

Ian Mathers’ take:

From the gentle opening to “Green Riverside” on, it seems pretty clear what Shadow Band are up to, a type of folk-adjacent music that’s equal parts lysergic and medieval. Sure enough, much of Wilderness of Love succeeds on precisely those terms, with the likes of “Shadowland” and “Morning Star” presenting fine examples of the kind of work that’s akin to everyone from Espers to the Blue Rodeo/Sadies/Eric’s Trip side project The Unintended. Much of this record is successful in conjuring up a potent mood, which is maybe the most important concern. And between all the interesting instrumentation and stylistic choices scattered around the edges, that’s enough to make Wilderness of Love stand out, whether that’s giving a bit of Velvet Underground bite to the otherwise trad seeming “Mad John,” constructing “In the Shade” seemingly mostly out of room tone and drums that seem mic’d to capture mostly echo, or just doubling down on the sleek menace of the atypically long “Darksiders’ Blues.”

Slowdive — Slowdive (Dead Oceans)

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Who recommended it? Ian Mathers

Did we review it? Ian's take went up earlier today, saying that "maybe more than ever before the band is concerned with manufacturing the purest, highest grade rush they can".

Tobias Carroll’s take:

There’s a part about two-thirds of the way into Slowdive’s “Catch the Breeze,” on their debut Just For a Day, where a booming guitar part enters the mix over the flow of washed-out melodies and the voices of Rachel Goswell and Neil Halstead. I heard it for the first time in the early 1990s, and Slowdive could have coasted on the accumulated goodwill that the utter bliss of that moment sparked in me, had they wanted to. Thankfully, they didn’t. Instead, the band’s kept up a remarkably solid record of making good music that’s explored interesting sonic dimensions. This eight-song album marks their first full-length since getting back together a couple of years ago. Not unlike fellow high-profile reunited bands like My Bloody Valentine and Sleater-Kinney, they’ve made an album that seems like a proper progression from their sound. It doesn’t hurt that you can also hear echoes of their work after they initially called it a day: “Falling Ashes” has plenty of echoes of Goswell and Halstead’s post-Slowdive work in Mojave 3, and there are traces of Halstead’s recent stint in Black Hearted Brother here as well. It’s a welcome return from this band, a subtle and compelling album that doesn’t settle for easy nostalgia.

#dusted magazine #midyear 2017 #dreamdecay #ian mathers #kleistwahr #eric mcdowell #tift merritt #ben donnelly #anthony pasquarosa #justin cober-lake #pharmakon #mason jones #stephen riley #peter zak #bill meyer #slowdive #tobias carroll #midyear

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phooll123 · 4 years

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New top story from Time: John Prine, Legendary Singer-Songwriter, Dies From Coronavirus at 73

John Prine, the resilient singer-songwriter who imbued his tales of American working-class life with both bleak despondence and uproarious wit, died on April 7 from complications of the coronavirus. He was 73.

On March 20, Prine’s wife Fiona announced that she had tested positive for the virus. Prine himself was hospitalized six days later and intubated shortly thereafter, leading his family to share the news of his critical condition in a Twitter post. On March 30, Fiona announced that her husband was stable but added, “that is not the same as improving… He needs our prayers and love.”

Over half a century, Prine churned out heartfelt and unforgettable songs like “Angel From Montgomery,” “Sweet Revenge” and “In Spite of Ourselves,” gaining the respect of Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, Bruce Springsteen, Bette Midler and many other music legends. After starting his own label in the 1980s, he became a symbol of fierce independence for younger musicians who longed to forge their own way, whether in between genres or outside the major label system.

Prine endured two bouts with cancer that forced him to re-learn how to sing and deepened his idiosyncratic voice. But he pressed on, achieving his highest-selling album in 2018 and criss-crossing the country to perform and impart wisdom onto younger musicians. This summer, he planned to tour North America and Europe.

He was an inductee of the Songwriters Hall of Fame and a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award recipient. He was invited to perform at the Library of Congress by U.S. Poet Laureate Ted Kooser in 2005. In 2015, Kacey Musgraves wrote a song saluting him and his iconoclastic spirit: ”I ain’t good at being careful / I just say what’s on my mind / Like my idea of heaven / Is to burn one with John Prine.”

With a heavy heart, but deep love and gratitude for his gift he gave us all- Goodbye, John Prine. https://t.co/kGkNJYl3hI

— Stephen Colbert (@StephenAtHome) April 8, 2020

The Singing Mailman

Prine was born in 1946 in Maywood, a blue-collar suburb of Chicago; he was the grandson of a Kentucky miner and the son of a tool-and-die maker. As a young man he served in the army in Germany, working as a mechanical engineer, before heading back home to become a mailman. The mentally unstimulating job allowed him to dream of a music career and write songs in his head while on his route: “Once you know you’re on the right street, there really wasn’t that much to the job,” he said in 2014. “There wasn’t much to do but use your imagination.”

Prine began playing open mic sessions at Chicago bars, where word-of-mouth buzz about his wrenching lyricism quickly spread. One night in 1970, the movie critic Roger Ebert walked into the Fifth Peg where Prine, still a mailman, was playing a set that included soon-to-be-classics like “Angel from Montgomery” and “Sam Stone.” Impressed, Ebert penned Prine’s first ever review, writing, “You wonder how anyone could have so much empathy and still be looking forward to his 24th birthday.”

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The next year, the country superstar Kris Kristofferson saw him play at another club. “It must’ve been like stumbling onto Dylan when he first busted onto the Village scene,” Kristofferson said later. He invited Prine to New York, where the pair shared the stage at the Bitter End in front of an industry crowd. The next day, Prine signed to Atlantic Records.

Musical Shapeshifter

Prine quickly enmeshed himself in the ’70s folk scene and became revered among musicians for his songwriting prowess. He brought to life despondent war heroes (“Great Society Conflict Veteran’s Blues”), lonely elders left behind by society (“Hello in There,” “Angel from Montgomery”), towns destroyed by corporate greed (“Paradise”). “Prine’s stuff is pure Proustian existentialism. Midwestern mindtrips to the nth degree,” Dylan said in 2009. “And he writes beautiful songs.”

Musically, Prine’s sound pulled from country, roots, and rock and folk traditions. “I never fit in with straight country. I never really fit in with rock ’n’ roll,” he told GQ in 2018. While his sonic explorations mystified his label and country radio stations—his ’70s Atlantic albums never climbed above 66 on the Billboard 200—they instead became beloved by a rising generation of songwriters who refused to be pinned into one lane.

“I know the record companies had no idea what to do with John Prine,” John Mellencamp, who was scuffling as a failing rocker named Johnny Cougar at the time of Prine’s rise, said in 2017. “And he said, ‘To hell with it. I’m gonna do what I’m gonna do.’ And he did. John taught me a lot, whether he knew it or not.”

Soon enough, artists across genres began covering Prine’s songs. Bruce Springsteen covered “Paradise”; Bette Midler covered “Hello in There”; Johnny Cash sang “Sam Stone.” Bonnie Raitt and Carly Simon would each make “Angel From Montgomery” their own.

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Eventually, the walls between genres began to come down, paving the way for Americana, a catch-all term for musicians drawing from many traditions. More recently, Prine has become a mentor to a younger flock of rulebreakers, from Musgraves to Sturgill Simpson to Brandi Carlile. Justin Vernon, who performs as Bon Iver, called Prine his favorite songwriter and led a Prine tribute concert at his own festival Eaux Claires in 2017.

It hurts so bad to read the news. I am gutted. My hero is gone. My friend is gone. We’ll love you forever John Prine.

— Margo Price (@MissMargoPrice) April 8, 2020

“Right now it seems like, without changing anything I ever did, I fit right into the Americana thing because it’s stuff mixed together: all different American musics mixed together,” Prine said in the 2018 GQ interview.

The Original Indie Rocker

Prine was nearly as influential as a businessman as he was as a musician. Years before “indie” became a term, Prine was fed up with being creatively stifled by labels and decided to found his own, Oh Boy Records, in 1981.

“People thought we were crazy for starting a record company,” he told Billboard. “They thought I was really shooting myself in the foot.”

Prine sent out records through the mail and relied on crowdsourced funding. But the gambit worked: fans sent in a large enough volume of checks for Prine to record his next album without the need for a label’s advance.

Oh Boy Label now stands as the oldest independent record company in Nashville; in 2015, it became a family business, with his wife, Fiona Whelan Prine, serving as a managing partner and his son Jody Whelan as director of operations. Oh Boy also set a template for the rising crop of artists, from Chance the Rapper to Jack White, who chose to take their music into their own hands.

RIP John Prine. The real deal. Great American singer/songwriter that found the heart and humor in even the darkest of human stories through song. Genius. Very heavy loss.

— marc maron (@marcmaron) April 8, 2020

Late Career Resurgence

The last two and a half decades have not been easy for Prine. In 1998, he was diagnosed with squamous cell cancer, resulting in a surgery that removed a piece of his neck and nerves on his tongue. The surgery deepened his voice to an unrecognizable growl, but Prine took intensive speech therapy and adapted. In 1999, he recorded a duets album that included the song “In Spite of Ourselves” with Iris DeMent, which became one of the biggest hits of his career.

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In 2013, Prine was diagnosed with lung cancer and had part of his lung removed. He rebounded and started touring again, taking a younger generation of singers like Jason Isbell and Margo Price on the road with him. In 2018, he hit his commercial peak, when The Tree of Forgiveness hit #5 on the Billboard 200. That album was voted as one of the year’s best by the Village Voice’s Pazz & Jop Music Critics Poll. Earlier this year, Raitt presented Prine with his lifetime achievement award at the Grammys, calling him “my friend and hero.”

On his final album, Prine showed off his comedic sensibilities to their fullest, especially on the song “Lonesome Friends of Science,” which bemoaned Pluto’s planetary demotion.

Poor ol’ planet Pluto now /

He never stood a chance no how /

When he got uninvited to the interplanetary dance /

Once a mighty planet there, now just an ordinary star /

Hangin’ out in Hollywood in some ol’ funky sushi bar.

And on “When I Get to Heaven,” Prine contemplated his own mortality with a lofty, personalized vision of heaven. “I’m gonna get a cocktail: vodka and ginger ale,” he sang. “Yeah, I’m gonna smoke a cigarette that’s nine miles long / I’m gonna kiss that pretty girl on the tilt-a-whirl / ‘Cause this old man is goin’ to town.”

via Blogger https://ift.tt/2VfphsA

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newstechreviews · 4 years

Link

With a heavy heart, but deep love and gratitude for his gift he gave us all- Goodbye, John Prine. https://t.co/kGkNJYl3hI

— Stephen Colbert (@StephenAtHome) April 8, 2020

The Singing Mailman

Musical Shapeshifter

It hurts so bad to read the news. I am gutted. My hero is gone. My friend is gone. We’ll love you forever John Prine.

— Margo Price (@MissMargoPrice) April 8, 2020

The Original Indie Rocker

“People thought we were crazy for starting a record company,” he told Billboard. “They thought I was really shooting myself in the foot.”

RIP John Prine. The real deal. Great American singer/songwriter that found the heart and humor in even the darkest of human stories through song. Genius. Very heavy loss.

— marc maron (@marcmaron) April 8, 2020

Late Career Resurgence

On his final album, Prine showed off his comedic sensibilities to their fullest, especially on the song “Lonesome Friends of Science,” which bemoaned Pluto’s planetary demotion.

Poor ol’ planet Pluto now /

He never stood a chance no how /

When he got uninvited to the interplanetary dance /

Once a mighty planet there, now just an ordinary star /

Hangin’ out in Hollywood in some ol’ funky sushi bar.

#Blogger

0 notes

immykidsmanager-blog · 5 years

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Acting in Trump’s Gilead (An Actors Blog)

Advertisers and marketing professionals spend their days (and probably a lot of sleepless nights) wondering about and/creating buzz around the next big thing… but being able to identify a trend is not just their job, it’s also the job of the actor. Knowing that wider ties, and longer hems, often coincide with automakers manufacturing cars in shades of pink and turquoise is an example of identifying a trend. How do I know that? When you live long enough you start to see everything come back around. Now, to me a trend - is different than a fad. A trend will stick around for a while and then reappear in an updated form at least every twenty years or so. But a fad is something that is with us for a year or six months and then disappears just as quickly as it came - probably never to be heard from again. For example, it’s been a while since my kids mentioned Fidget Spinners. I’m sure those useless pieces of Chinese rubberized plastic will sit idle at the bottom of my kids desk drawer until i secretly toss them out. That obsession has given way to their current addiction; slime. I’m hoping slime is just a fad too - or a phase they grow out of at least, kind of like my mom’s approach to me being in to dudes. Sorry Mom, guess that was more of a trend that was here to stay.

As an actor what do you do when you’re not part of a trend? By that, I mean your “type”…your race, your age, your sexual orientation, even your religion. It might sound callous to break us all down into categories, but that’s what our brains do every single day as we file away and classify every new piece of information we encounter.

It’s no surprise that 2018 was definitely the year of the Asian actor, and it’s about time. An Asian actor hasn’t gotten an Oscar since Haing S. Ngor won in 1984 for “The Killing Fields.” You might say this all started with the popularity of Crazy Rich Asians and I would agree, but what led to that? With my 20/20 hindsight I would say that George Takei and his autobiographical play about his childhood experience being held in a post World War II Japanese internment camp shined a light on the Asian immigrant experience. It also doesn’t hurt that he has a hugely popular #Twitter feed dominated by daily anti-Trump tweets.

Another 70-ish celebrity with daily anti-Trump tweets is Cher who happens to be having the best year ever. She’s doing movies again, has an amazing new album of ABBA covers, a broadway show about her life, and is about to embark on a huge European tour. Is Trump the recipe to new found relevance - or is ageism finally dead in Hollywood?

On Sunday I kept seeing Carol Burnett in my news feed. She was definitely trending. I thought OMG did she die or something?! I was Immediately relieved to figure out that she was just being honored at The Golden Globes and not actually dead. So if Carol Burnett is in the news again what does this mean? If I were her manager what would be my game plan?? …what’s next? Maybe nothing. She’s got like a gazillion Emmys - she doesn’t have to do a single thing, but that’s not usually how successful people think. What this tells me is that there’s about to be a lot more roles for older actresses in #Hollywood. Perhaps at first for the A-listers but hopefully that trend can trickle down to the commoners like us too.

A few years ago my kids went in for a sitcom pilot audition that was starring Ms. Burnett playing a famous retired actress who was renting out part of her home to make some extra income. Then they went in for another one with a similar premise with a cast lead by Candice Bergen. Not sure if either pilot was ever made… but then the reboot of Murphy Brown happened and I assume the Bergen pilot died a quick death in the script pile at ABC Television Network. Anyway these projects are out there, which is a good sign that ageism is a dying fad. How ironic is it too that Jessica Lange has had a career resurgence doing campy horror just like her character in "Feud" (Joan Crawford) had in real life.

I asked my kids’ agent why my son always got more auditions and more bookings than my daughter. She said writers just don’t write for little girls the way they write for little boys. This is the same argument that’s been made at the very top of the food chain by Oscar winners like Jennifer Lawrence. Often we roll our eyes when someone as successful as she makes this claim but the amount of opportunities for women is just not the same as for men - and it has been even worse if you’re past a certain age.

So for the non-famous, for the everyday working actor, what can we do when a trend is not working in our favor? Make lemonade? No - Make Movies! My friend, Sarah Megan Thomas, has done just that. Instead of complaining that only 32% of all speaking roles in films belong to female characters, she wrote, produced, and acted in three of her own female driven films; "Backwards," “Equity,” and her third film “Liberté”. In each project she has immersed herself into three very different worlds focusing on the roles women play in: Sports, on Wall Street, and in WWII. Not really since “A League of Their Own” have we seen a film explore the feminine experience during war. This subject is very close to my heart since both my grandmothers worked for the war effort - one making bullets and shells in a gunpowder factory, and the other on an air force base. Both my kids had roles in her film Equity, so we saw firsthand that not only is she creating jobs for actresses but her crews are also heavily comprised of women, with all three films having female directors.

As Heidi Klum says “You’re either in or you’re out,” and as the former titans of film and TV are being dethroned by sex scandals, women are rising up to take their rightful place. We saw the peak of the #MeToomovement at last years Golden Globes. This year we saw The Hollywood Foreign Press reaffirm the strength of journalists, and vow to not let governments make them the enemy of the people. We also saw an Asian actress not only host the show, but win the award for best dramatic TV actress. So… is an awards show the barometer for what’s trending - or just the moment when enough people come together on a network TV platform to oppose Trump’s Republic of Gilead?

Speaking of critically acclaimed television series, sometimes I have a hard time telling the difference between a plot point from “The Handmaid’s Tale” and an actual Tweeted proclamation from the baby king himself. Here’s a list. Can you tell the difference?

Women should be punished for abortion. Total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States Transgender people banned from military service The Press is declared “The true enemy of the people” Separating immigrant children from their parents at the border Calling for the firing of NFL players who kneel during the National Anthem

Sounds like we’re all gonna be hanging on that wall of his!

Like it or not, Trump is an equal opportunity offender and every group that he attempts to marginalize seems to rise up and have their place in the sun. He discriminates… then whoever the oppressed group is…African Americans, Muslims, Women, Gays, Native Americans…that group is suddenly trending. We are lucky enough to live in a time when we are celebrated for our differences and the entertainment industry is finally responding. As soon as Trump offends, then I start to notice that minority group in more roles in commercials, TV, and film. Writers are now creating more diversity in their characters and in the stories they tell. So if you are an actor in one of these minority groups - you’re probably trending. This trickles all the way down to child actors too. Now I notice a lot more diversity in the acting pool at castings than I did 5 years ago when we had a president that rarely used Twitter - and if he did it was never used to offend anyone.

So now what? You’re part of a growing trend. How do you take advantage of a trend in your type? Well, first leaving your apartment is a good step. In the brief window where #GayDads were everywhere we did just that. It was about 2011 and the fight for marriage equality was in the news every day. As courts ruled and legislative branches voted in our favor state by state and eventually sea to shining sea, we made it our mission to attend every equality march, rally, and #Pride Parade in NYC and DC. We wrote letters to state senators, appeared on the local news and in the “failing” New York Times! We did print campaigns for Marriott and MetLife. Marriott even gave us our own float in the New York City Heritage of Pride Parade! I can’t begin to count the number of reality shows we were interviewed for. We actually filmed segments on two shows, one for Oprah and another for a Jerry Seinfeld comedy show on marriage, neither of which actually aired, but the point is we got “out” there (pun intended) and milked that trend for all it was worth. All you can do is create opportunities for yourself when you’re lucky enough to be part of the zeitgeist. Now if you’re gay and married, the only way to get exposure on social media is to take your shirt off and take a #BedSelfie with your husband. Aside from the occasional GymSelfie for my own motivational purposes - that is really not us, so hopefully sexy couple pics will die out soon. I can’t compete!

So if you’re not part of the “in” crowd my biggest piece of advice is to not start taking naked selfies with Ricky Martin’s baby, just BE YOURSELF!!! In college I spent a lot of time playing roles that I would never play in the real world, and I would compete with actors for those roles that I would never be sitting across from in a real casting office waiting room. When I first moved to New York, I wasted so much energy trying to be something I wasn’t. I look back at my old black and white headshots and I remember the photographer trying to make me pose like a soap opera hunk - which I wasn’t. Soaps and teen dramas were big business then. I was young but my hair was thinning, so I couldn’t be the hot teen and I was still too young to play the dad. I definitely wasn’t trending! I should’ve just shaved my head already and embraced roles like the comic book villain born out of a botched laboratory experiment. That would have been so much more fun! So as they taught us at @University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music - CCM… get out of your head and just beeeeeeeeeee……..(deep breath)

Sooner or later everything comes back around…. even you.

I’m My Kids Manager

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