#Tender Writer Sydney

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[madrigalcommunications]

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[elixirfromthestars]

At Your Call

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: No matter when or where, Bucky will always be there at your call.

WC: ~300

Content(s): a sprinkle of angst. hurt/comfort. happy ending.

Prompt: “You came?” — “You called.”

a/n: Big thanks to my lovely Sydney @buck-star for sending me some inspiration to combat this writer’s block 📝✨ Love ya lots!!! 🥹🩷🩷 I also incorporated a little line I wrote in a community post a while ago, so for those of you that know it I can't wait to see if you spot it!! Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || main masterlist ♡

“You came?” 

“You called.” 

Bucky answers your question with a certainty that squeezes at your chest. His expression reflects nothing less of an always and an of course. You called so of course he showed up. Nothing and no one would ever stop him from always showing up for you. 

It didn’t matter that your call was accidental and happened after too many shots from a night out with your friends. It didn’t matter that all you could remember from the call was drunkenly confessing how much you missed him and how angry you were that he let you walk away. The fight, the petty arguments, the heartbreak—it all didn’t matter now. 

He still showed up because you reached out to him.

When he responded with a shaky and almost breathless I miss you over the phone—it was like, all at once, the intricate woven fabric of your lifelines were pleading to be tethered to one another once more.

So, naturally, there is no hesitance left in you when you pull the door open wide enough for him to come inside and away from the pouring rain. Despite the droplets that cling to his jacket and hair, there is no hesitance in ambushing him with a tight embrace as soon as the door closes. And there is no hesitance in him as he wraps his arms tightly around you and holds you against his chest like you aren’t meant to be anywhere else but in his arms. 

In the quiet of your home, there’s a gentle shift in the air. It's like finding that final puzzle piece that completes it all after having lost it in the shuffle of everyday life. That feeling leads you both to your bedroom—where Bucky doesn’t let you go as you settle into your bed—holding each other close as the tears start to fall. The heartbreak of each other’s absence present in every teardrop.

He kisses the top of your head with a tenderness that warms your chest. It spreads throughout you with a type of comfort you longed for from the moment you walked away. When he whispers how much he loves you and how everything will be okay—you believe him. 

You found your way to each other again. 

Everything will be okay.

[forlornalbatross]

Sandalwood in comatose Mesopotamia is long gone from everything else zero degrees in Sydney’s outer west ylang yang fragrance reimburse itself from a place of tenderness too early in the morning discerning  intolerable ego high in another world is a parallel of substitution of substances for behavioural enhancing paradigm is not without a dot or a dash even a semicolon to induce the cadence no Gilgamesh is found either Tudors blindsided alphabetised Genghis Khan noting the freeze the river is filling the feeling the flailing moment is failing all the mists over Tatamailau will always forgive & punish as accordingly need not to summon anything when it’s yours it will call you or come to you bend nowhere my crescendo echoing indelibly irremovable too archaic to impersonate caricature the epigone for a sufficiently high efficiency  never deficient only proficient when it comes from the totem of faith supreme celestial of wonders certifiably virtuous oh how winter in July is always a writer’s unblock -

D C de Oliveira | To Chloe, You & Other Thoughts II | July 21 2023 | Friday 12.30am

[mercurial-chuckles]

Grace’s Gazette: Volume 01

Merely mentioning your work could not soothe my soul; thus, I, Grace, present to you a celebration of wonderful authors in the form of Grace’s Gazettes! It is my solemn duty not to deprive readers of the delight in savoring these splendid tales afresh, so I have kept my commentary most modest. In no particular order, I shall add approximately eight stories per gazette, following the sequence of my reading. I implore you, dearest reader, to shower these authors with boundless admiration and affection.

Grace’s Gazette: The First Collection

My Dearest Writers,

As I pen this letter to you, I am filled with delight at the diverse stories that have graced my reading nook. You, dear authors, have each woven worlds that lift us into realms of mystery, love, and longing. Today, allow me to celebrate the splendor of some of your offerings, each one a gem in the treasure chest of Weaving Wonderful Writers. Let us step into these tales. Shall we?

~

Memory Served inked by @secretswiftymarvelfan

Dearest Niamh,

Oh, what an utterly enthralling and suspenseful tale you have spun in Memory Served! From the very first page, I was swept into the delicate tension of our heroine’s plight—awakening to a world half-remembered, tethered to a stranger by only fragments of what once was. The poignancy of her trust, her quiet hope despite her uncertainty, tugged at my heart with each choice she made in earnest faith. And how masterfully you have built this gradual unfolding of hidden memories—each one slipping through her dreams like faint whispers, urging her toward a truth yet out of reach. It is both haunting and beautifully wrought, leaving one on edge, breath held, yearning for her happiness but dreading what may yet come. Your tale is as alluring as it is mysterious, dear author, a journey that shall surely linger in my thoughts long after the last word.

~

Workout Motivation inked by @sergeantbarnessdoll

Dearest Shannon,

Heavens above! My heart quite galloped through every sinful, electrifying moment of your tale. To have our dashing Sergeant Barnes, no less, swept up in such passion within the walls—oh, the scandal! The way you crafted each glance and touch was simply intoxicating, like a spark that sets the senses ablaze. I daresay, I found myself blushing, my own breath quickened, as though I were right there, lost in that most thrilling of encounters. The intensity between them was palpable, undeniable, each movement a dance that left one both utterly flustered and completely captivated. Bravo, dear author! You’ve penned a scene that shall certainly haunt my thoughts (and perhaps quicken my own pulse) long into the evening. To the author of this tale, I tip my hat—this was a delight!

~

Heart Sweater inked by @buck-star

Dearest Sydney,

What a heartwarming delight this has been! A father softened entirely by his daughter’s small but endearing gift—a sweater, lovingly chosen by the hands of innocence and worn by a figure known to all as fierce and untouchable. This tender tale of Bucky, our seemingly impenetrable mafia figure, warmed my very soul. How artfully you have revealed the softness beneath his hardened exterior, showing us a glimpse of the man who treasures his family more than the world itself. To see him so willingly and lovingly wearing the gifts, undeterred by anyone’s gaze, speaks volumes. I am utterly charmed by this tale, dear author, and I shall revisit it whenever I seek solace in the purity of familial love.

~

The Alpha to the Rescue inked by @thezombieprostitute

Dearest Author,

Oh, what a delightfully tender and stirring tale! The way our noble Alpha strides in, so keenly attuned to every flicker of distress, speaks to the profound connection woven between him and our dear Omega. Indeed, there is something so wonderfully captivating in witnessing his fierce determination to bring comfort, even within the confines of the office—a place hardly conducive to such soft-hearted displays. And yet, he cares not for the eyes of others, but only for the well-being of his beloved. To be swept away from the toils of the day and carried homeward, cherished and safe—my heart could not help but flutter! Such devotion, so purely shown, leaves one breathless with admiration. Truly, dear author, you have captured the very essence of a bond that resonates deeply within the heart. Your words carry a warmth that lingers, my dear, and I thank you for this touching depiction of love’s embrace.

~

Temptation inked by @bucksangel

Dearest Angel,

Ah, what a most chilling and evocative tale you have woven! From the very first words, I felt the shadow of apprehension clutching tightly—a remarkable rendering of that unsettling sense of being watched, whispered about but unseen by those around. Your portrayal of our dear heroine’s rising paranoia was positively masterful, leaving me glancing over my own shoulder with every line! And then…dear Bucky enters, a figure both entrancing and enigmatic, his every word and gesture crafted with an alluring, almost haunting precision. As she surrendered to his undeniable charm, I found myself as captivated as she—unable to resist this man who seemed, indeed, to tread between shadow and light. How utterly sublime, this acceptance of love tempered by such exquisite danger! A work that will linger in my thoughts like a secret whispered in the dark. Bravo, dear author, for crafting such a tale of rare and intoxicating allure.

~

Revealed Secret by @lives-in-midgard        

Dearest Sara,

This story brought forth a smile and a sigh. How wonderfully satisfying it is when hearts that secretly yearn for one another finally meet! Mantis’s unexpected reveal, spilling a secret that was never meant to escape, serves as a charming, unexpected twist. And when Bucky’s confession follows—ah, it is as if the universe finally aligns for these two. To witness their shared joy, their long-hidden affection finally brought to light, is a triumph of love over secrecy. This tale, sweet as it is stirring, left me with a warm glow that lingers even now. Thank you, dear author, for sharing this tender, joyous journey.

~

Invisible inked by @americas-ass-writing

Dearest Jaqui,  

In this story, you have captured the aching loneliness of one who feels unseen despite the grand company she keeps. The reader’s quiet struggles, her pain laid bare, made me yearn for someone to notice her worth. Enter Steve, our kindest Captain, who sees her, cares for her, and quietly reveals the depths of his admiration. How I cheered when Bucky finally revealed his affections. This story, dear writer, is a singe to a yearning heart for value and worth, and to love that endures in the face of silence and solitude.

~

How to Impress a 21st-Century Girl inked by @brunchable

Dearest Jamie,

Oh, how delightful this tale is! It offers a lighthearted yet endearing look into Bucky’s foray into modern romance. His experience is the very essence of charm and humor. Watching him navigate this new world, determined yet slightly bewildered, is as heartwarming as it is amusing. Oh, what joy! To find a connection in such an unfamiliar world and feel that spark is simply enchanting. Tis a delightful and charming story! The way you captured the initial awkwardness of their date is simply adorable—those comical moments made my heart flutter! Bucky’s intense beauty paired with his smug yet endearing personality creates such an enchanting dynamic between them. And that kiss! It was the perfect culmination of tension and sweetness, leaving me breathless. Your writing beautifully balances humor and romance, making their connection feel so real and relatable. This brought a smile to my face, and for that, I thank you, dear author.

~

To each of you, my sincerest thanks. Your stories have captivated, delighted, and moved me beyond measure.

And, until the next time.

Grace, Your Reverent Reader

****

Phew! I put all my heart into writing & crafting this, and I’m extremely happy ❤️

If you want to catch up: Here are the links to the Columns & Grace’s Gazettes

Do you wanna be featured? Or maybe you know someone that I do not already have on the LIST. Feel free to drop by Grace’s Abode! I’m happy to help or clarify any doubts you’ve got! Unfortunately, I haven’t interacted with a lot of you, so if you are simply curious or, if you wanna be a part of the Weaving Wonderful Writers Society, please send me a message and I will be happy to share the invite to the society!

Tagging (hoping they’d work) some of the potential members of the Weaving Wonderful Writers Society! :)

Apparently, I can only tag 50 per post. So, I will tag the rest in the reblog.

In no particular order:

@elixirfromthestars | @darsynia | @kellyn1604 | @littlefreya | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @imyourbratzdoll | @winterarmyy | @espinosaurusrexex | @queen-of-the-avengers | @late-to-the-party-81 | @deliciousangelfestival | @fineanddandy | @samodivaa | @krirebr | @ramp-it-up | @veltana | @chase-your-dreams-away | @buckets-and-trees | @lanabuckybarnes | @delicatebarness | @drabblesandsnippets | @ozwriterchick | @shamrockqueen | @buckysforeverprincess | @anonymityisfunwriter | @flowersforbucky | @jobean12-blog | @saiyanprincessswanie | @sosa2imagines | @stargazingfangirl18 | @eulalielatibule | @caplanbuckybarnes | @sarahowritesostucky | @shellyshellshell | @stellar-solar-flare | @targaryenvampireslayer | @musette22 | @bigtreefest | @steviebbboi | @yenzys-lucky-charm | @angrythingstarlight |

[whenmemorydies]

Napkins 3x06

I strongly suspect that this episode is going to either touch on or foreground Mikey's struggles with his mental health, and in particular his suicidal ideation or eventual suicide and its immediate aftermath. I'm ready for Ayo to direct the hell out of this.

In 1x08 Braciole, Tina tells Carmy a story about Mikey no longer ordering napkins for The Beef because he felt there was no point in doing so. She makes it clear that this behaviour was out of the ordinary for Mikey:

We know that in his final years, Mike was battling addiction and mental health issues (if his actions in 2x06 Fishes were anything to go by). Where suicidal ideation or suicidality is flagged for me is in Tina's mention that Mikey's behaviour regarding the napkins was out of the ordinary. The position he's taken in her retelling is one that's also resigned to a perceived fate. It reeks of hopelessness.

Dramatic changes in behaviour and feelings of hopelessness are both warning signs for suicide and suicidal behaviour.

Carmy seems to recognise the gravity of what Tina is implying in her story. As soon as she says that Mikey's attitude about the napkins was unusual for him, Carmy tells her to take the night off and that he'll cover her. Tina then asks Carmy if he knows how much she loved his brother. Carmy asks her how much and she tells him that she loved Mikey a lot.

This scene is one of the most tender in the entire series, in my view second only to Carmy and Sydney's table scene in 2x09 Omelette. Carmy asking Tina how much she loved Mikey will always take my breath away....because we know how much Carmy loved Mike. For him to hold space for Tina to express her love for his brother with him, especially given Carmy's own mental state at this point in the show, is immense. Watching this scene always makes my heart swell.

I've no doubt that 3x06 Napkins is going to be heavy. But these actors, writers and the rest of the crew on this show have shown that they can handle it, with grace, empathy and heart. I can't wait to see how they go about it.

[tvgremlin]

I just need sydcarmy fluff where they finally get their first star and LOVE CONFESSIONS galore!

you’re such a wonderful writer🫂🫂🫂🫂

Here you go! And thank you so much for the compliment, you are too kind!!

I've had terribille writers block latley but mark my words I will get through my prompts backlog! If you want to add to it my inbox is always open, just be warned that it may take a minute for me to respond <3

Read the rest of the prompts on ao3 here.

Stars

They are in the kitchen when they find out.

Standing side by side at the expo counter, the toes of their shoes pressed together as they wait. 

“Holy shit,” she says when the call pops up on her phone, dropping the device beside the ticket printer, “it’s-“

Her voice dies in her throat as he picks up the call, putting it on speaker.

“Is this Sydney Adamu?” The woman asks.

“Yes, this is she” her is voice shaking. She can feel Carmy’s hand on her back, holding her up.

“And Carmen Bearzatto,” he says.

“Wonderful,” They can hear the smile in her voice. “Well, I’m calling with good news. The Bear has been awarded a Michelin star. We’ll see you tomorrow at the ceremony. Congratulations.”

The woman hangs up before either one can say anything.

They look at each other for a moment. The air between them is charged. Something new inhabits the space.

He pulls her close. She melts into his embrace. 

She is crying now, tears of joy and relief staining his whites.

“We did it,” she repeats over and over, “We fucking did it.”

He is holding her so tight. She can feel his heartbeat, can feel how <i>alive</i> he is here.

<i>They did it. They made it.</i>

She thinks of them in New York, all scarred hands and rough edges. Blood orange and messy grief, a disaster still in progress.

She thinks of them in the Beef’s kitchen, talking about everything and nothing all at once. She can still feel his hands on her shoulders and can hear how he yelled when everything fell apart.

And she thinks of them side by side during service, so in sync, it scares the new line cook. She keeps him grounded as he lights a fire beneath her feet.

He squeezes her arm, his nose pressed into her cheek. He surrounds her. She hopes it is always this way. 

When he kisses her she realizes that this, this was how it was supposed to be. This is the love that the poets promised. 

He tastes like nicotine and the pasta she made for family. Like <i>home.</i>

In her arms he is soft. He touches her like she might disappear, tender and all-consuming. 

When they separate he presses his forehead to hers, lingering in her space. 

“I love you,” he says like it’s an easy thing, like this is how it’s always been.

“I love you too.” It feels like breathing to say it back. <i>They are alive.</i>

His hands cup her face. She is so beautiful. 

She smiles and he laughs. 

“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you and we have a fucking star.”

She is laughing now too, a fresh round of tears falling. <i>She is so fucking happy.<i>

“I love you, and we have to <i>retain a fucking star</i>.”

He wipes a tear from her cheek.

“We can do it,” He kisses her again, sweet and chaste, “It will be okay.”

Her hands are in his hair, carding soft curls through her fingers. She loves him. He loves her. This is all there needs to be.

“I know.” 

[lyncirenzei]

I just really wanted to respond to the assignment outlined in this tweet...

Why can't I watch Sydney and Carmy be in a friendship with tenderness and obvious chemistry without pushing for romance?

The short answer is, I can watch without pushing for romance.

The extended answer is, I AM watching without PUSHING for romance.

Yes, they both have chemistry and they are both actively trying to deal with each other with care and tenderness because they are in an intimate relationship with each other already. They are business partners.

Intimate Definition:

So because Carmy allowed a close connection to start with Sydney by not only hiring Sydney but making her his number 1 in HIS family business, it would be wise for them both to exercise tenderness as much as possible when dealing with each other. Now I can go on a tangent about WHY he made her his number 1, but that's for another time. But just to add to the fact I won't discuss now, let me leave this here: Carmy checks often to make sure Syd is on board while Syd checks often to make sure Sugar, Carmy's own sister who he SHOULD be checking on, is on board. But I mean, Carmy said he can't even ask Sugar how she doing cause he don't know how he is doing most of the time, while constantly asking Syd how she is doing, so we know the "Men will do it (make it happen) if they WANT to" applies directly to Carmy... (and we ALSO know how and when that statement is usually used-and if you want to act dense, that usually is applied when a man is attracted to a woman and wants to make something romantic happen with her) but I digress.

Now, from what I see, people are picking up on what I noticed the minute Syd came on the scene in Ep. 1 Season 1, that there COULD BE something between Carmy and Syd. The writers and if not them, then the editors keep putting little plot devices in our face and making the COULD BE even more of a thing than what I initially picked up on. And there are so many great post that point out what those moments, interactions, conversations, scenes are. So I will not include them here.

Now it was stated in the post that chemistry isn't the only reason two people should start dating. And to that I say, you don't say? Really? I'm glad you know that and shared with the rest of us. Cause once again, what most people are commenting on is what COULD BE. Not what CURRENTLY IS.

You see, CURRENTLY, we are in season 2 and are still getting to know everyone and what makes them tick. We, the audience, who has a bird eye view, is STILL getting to know everyone. So if we're still doing that then naturally so are the characters with one another. They know less about one another than we know because they dont have the bird eye, omnipresent view. And all of this is controlled by the writers and editors. So no, currently I and I think most people who see Carmy and Syd as being a viable option for one another is wanting to see them start dating now.

When will they have time to establish a REAL romantic connection that doesn't take away from our thirty viewing minutes of the plot? Not anytime soon, that's for sure. But can they continue to give us 5 second moments that continue to build up what could be? Yes.

Now the question does remain, can they actually establish a real romantic connection? Yes. They definitely can. However, not in the way I am interested in seeing on THIS show with THIS plot. This is not Bridgerton, so I'm not interested in seeing Bridgerton type romance on The Bear. And I think most people will agree with me. You see, we already know this show isn't about romance. It deals with serious topics regarding business, family, mental illness, and human connection. And many people feel showing a romance would disregard those topics because of how romance is traditionally handled in media. Does that mean romance is not serious? No. It just means the way it is portrayed many times within a plot not needing romance, leaves one wanting...

However, The Bear may not be about romance, but as mentioned above, it is about Human Connection. And holding onto, and building on that human connection despite flaws, hurtful words/actions, because the people who portray them and suffer them are willing to change, improve, and do better.

I mentioned above that Syd and Carmy already have an intimate relationship. And THIS is what can potentially makes them Endgame.

Romance can be fleeting, it can be just like we witnessed between Carmy and Claire. Claire clearly had butterflies (idk about Carmy so much. He was very closed off with her and the moments he wasn't was told to us rather than shown to us) but their situation was the type of thing that we could have done without. Though, I believe Claire was needed, not only as a foil character, but as a plot devices as well.

However, in contrast (something the editors also wanted us to do with all there three-way contrasting scenes involving Claire, Carmy, and Syd) what Carmy has and is developing that will only get stronger the longer Syd sticks around and vice versa that Syd will develop the longer Carmy improves and sticks around is a deep respect and a deep love.

They are already intimate because of the business. They speak to each other intimately (also because of the business while some kind of way NEVER mentioning the business) personally, vulnerably. Carmy wants to hear Syd speak about her feelings, dreams and ideas. He even wants to hear her speak about her personal business though that part is hard for her to do. And Syd wants to speak about those things to Carmy even when it's difficult to do so.

THAT is the kind of intimacy I want to continue seeing on my TV screen. I don't need 5 minutes dedicated to them on a date, giggling and laughing about nothing! I need 5 minutes of them sitting closely, talking lowly about deep personal things that they can later laugh about together. I need the eye connections from across the room cause they GET each other and know what the other is thinking. I need small smiles of flattery that never get to be too much because they are in a professional setting. And at the end of the night, after they've worked another successful day at a restaurant that runs itself cause it's that successful (like Terry's restaurant) and they are just showing up to work cause they "still love to cook" but don't have to if they don't want to, they close down shop, walk out hand in hand down the street bumping shoulders like two best friends on their way to their SHARED home where private things happen privately (cause seeing all that is not important to the main plot. Though I wouldn't mind 😏).

That is Endgame.

That is slowburn

(And that ain't happening next season folks. I do not want them getting together sexually or otherwise next season. They have a lot of work to do not only on their restaurant but also on themselves). That is what I'd call an intimate relationship that hasn't distracted from the main plot, but that is still very real.

Now for those who think that possibility is "forced" that's most likely because Syd is a dark skinned black woman. Not actually because you can't see Carmy and Syd happening.

And for those who only see her with Marcus, that also may be because she is a dark skinned black woman and you really want to see her with a black man. Not actually because you can't see Carmy and Syd happening.

The same way I can see them remaining professional partners, only cause the writers and editors may decide to stop playing in our face with the hints regarding their already established intimacy, is the same way you should be able to see what is literally playing in your face when it comes to Carmy and Syd interactions, or the way they think/speak about/to each other.

So now I'm asking you to examine why you can't watch Sydney and Carmy be in a friendship with tenderness and obvious chemistry without admitting that the writers may decide to take it in an even more intimate direction, and being OK with that if they do?

[apinchofm]

Fic Rec Friday

(yes it's tuesday/wednesday but im depressed so allow it)

Tender Blooms by @tiltedtemple

Carmy and Sydney are so sweet in this!! I love this au so much!! Florist/Tattoo Artist AU

To Build A Home by @waterlilyrose

Ahh, it's complete!! Oh, this is such a beautiful fic and my moot is just such a brilliant writer and I was legit tearing up at some chapters. Kanthony, Memory Loss, Family Fluff and a lotta angst

Never In My Wildest Dreams by ElleannaQ (@little-engineer-who-cant)

Another brilliant fic that is complete! I love how Edwina and her relationships with the people she loves are developed in the aftermath of such a messy season. Ugh, this fic is so wonderful! edwina sharma x oc, m, romance!

Eating for Two by Blissymbolics

This made me giggle!! Carmy and Sydney being oblivious and everyone being loud and yet both right and wrong at once? Sounds intriguing? Have a read! Sydcarmy, Fluff and Humour,

come over here and profound for me by @dollypopup

Oh, this fic is heartbreaking and messy and everything I'd want from in a season or book!! angst and fluffy ending, polin, meloise

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

‘It’s the relationship I knew I wanted’: Scrublands star on learning to commit

Luke Arnold is an actor and writer who is best known for playing Michael Hutchence in Never Tear Us Apart. The 39-year-old discusses the endearing nickname he called his little sister as a child, a silly but romantic Christmas gesture and what he is most proud of in his current relationship.

“It’s interesting to reflect on the actresses I admired before I got into the acting industry who later became colleagues, like Heather Graham.”

My maternal great-great-grandmother thought her name was Jean, but when she was 70 she found her birth certificate, which said Jane. Her mother died when she was young, so I’m not sure what went wrong there, but she was still Jean to us all.

Some of my first memories are getting handwritten and recorded poems on cassettes from her. Looking at them recently, I can see the influence their form and patterns have had on my own writing.

When I was young, my maternal granny, Valerie, lived on a sailing boat with my step granddad. They also travelled around Australia on a motorbike. They were a great example of the freewheeling, bohemian lifestyle that was definitely passed down to me.

My parents, Nola and Colin, met while picking fruit. Mum is not the tallest lady and trained to become a jockey. It was her passion from a young age, but in the late 1970s she found the male-dominant culture of the racing industry too tough to realise her dream.

Mum is an enthusiastic and bubbly person. Before my younger sister, Ashley, and my brother, George, were born, I had her full attention for two years. It was great, as it meant that when I started school, I was on my way to reading and writing.

When I was just a baby myself, I used to call my sister “my little darling”, as we were so close. In the teen years we grew apart a bit, but since 2019 we’ve become close again. Ashley’s a web designer and is living the life of a digital nomad.

My first celebrity crush was Amy Jo Johnson, the actress who played the Pink Power Ranger on Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.

It’s interesting to reflect on the actresses I admired before I got into the acting industry who later became colleagues, like Heather Graham, star of Boogie Nights, which is one of my favourite films. When Heather enlisted me to act opposite her on her 2018 film Half Magic, it was a “pinch-me” moment. One minute I would be talking to her as a colleague, then the next I’d think, “You’re HEATHER GRAHAM!”

My first serious relationship was with Hayley at Sunshine Beach High School in Queensland. We bonded over acting and performing. It was nice to meet a girl after my teenage years in Sydney, where I’d worked as a clown, doing parties and magic, mostly around dudes.

While at drama school [WAAPA in Perth], I picked up a girlfriend from the airport dressed in wrapping paper. I’d asked her what she wanted for Christmas and she’d replied, “Just you.” I took that literally. It was a silly, ridiculous, romantic gesture. I’m glad camera phones weren’t a big thing back then.

In the 2022 NITV SBS series True Colours, Rarriwuy Hick and I both played detectives. Filming that was a huge education for me. My touchstones on the Northern Territory set were the women – Rurriway and Arrernte/Warlpiri woman Marie Ellis, with whom we consulted daily to follow cultural protocol.

It was nerve-racking to be the white fella who was ignorant of so many things. But the First Nations people had such generosity teaching me about that part of the country, and about the practices that impacted storylines, like men’s business, kinship and payback. There was overwhelming care for us outsiders coming in.

I’ve been with my current partner, Laura, for a year. We met while making a film 16 years ago and I was completely and madly infatuated with her. We were both young and at that time I was ill-equipped to handle such strong feelings.

We had a couple of false starts that left us both feeling tender, but we kept returning to the flame. Something I’m proud of is that we kept showing up, as it would have been easy to just turn it into a story of heartbreak and not deal with it.

We’ve always been great friends throughout it all. Laura is the person I want to call with good news, with a question, or if I’m anxious about something. It’s the relationship I knew I wanted, and I’m very grateful to be in it now.

Luke Arnold stars in Scrublands, premiering November 16 on Stan.

Source: The Sydney Morning Herald

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: DOCTOR OF THE WORLD by Fleda Brown – 2024 Open Chapbook Winner

On SALE: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/doctor-of-the-world-by-fleda-brown-2024-open-chapbook-winner/

If there is a center of gravity in this collection of prose #poems, it is a #cancer #diagnosis, but looking outward, there is the gravity that keeps the spheres from flying apart, there is the gravity of our collective maladies, there is the way we inflict injuries on ourselves and others. The poem, “Crickets” says, “You’re one of God’s creatures, yet the angels and imps outnumber you by a long shot. They’re out there jumping in and out of your notice like quarks and anti-quarks.” And who is Doctor who keeps the world in balance? It is exuberance, not just of being alive, but of the wonderousness of loons, robins, cats, crickets, and human creatures. There is never a right answer to how to negotiate this life, but there is radiance everywhere in these poems, to light the way.

Fleda Brown‘s tenth collection of poems, Flying Through a Hole in the Storm (2021) won the Hollis Summers Prize from Ohio University Press and was an Indie finalist. Earlier poems can be found in The Woods Are On Fire: New & Selected Poems (University of Nebraska Press). Her work has appeared three times in The Best American Poetry and has won a Pushcart Prize, the Felix Pollak Prize, the Philip Levine Prize, and the Great Lakes Colleges New Writer’s Award, and has twice been a finalist for the National Poetry Series. Her recent memoir is Mortality, with Friends (Wayne State University Press, an MIPA Winner and Midwest Book Award winner in memoir). She was poet laureate of Delaware from 2001-07. #poetry #cancer #life #healing #nature #awardwinning

PRAISE FOR DOCTOR OF THE WORLD by Fleda Brown:

“Reading a poem by Brown is a lesson in how to read one’s life, how each small thing, each seemingly casual detail, is in fact connected to perceptions and understandings of profound significance. . .”

—World Literature Today

“. . . . a poet of transformation and attention. One reads her poems and finds oneself changed by the trajectory, the engagement.”

–Laura Kasischke

“Fleda Brown’s voice is edgy, direct, yet surprisingly tender.”

–Rebecca McClanahan

“I have long felt that Fleda Brown the poet has an unparalleled capacity to meld keen intellect, extending even to hard science, with exquisite lyrical sensibility.”

–Sydney Lea

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems #nature #cancer #life #healing #awardwinning

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[madrigalcommunications]

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[allenbloom]

Short Film Review!

Following once again the tiny council in my head, I decided to check out other short horror films, just like the last time I watched every single one at least twice, and maybe as a disclaimer, this is just my humble opinion as someone who loves horror and listens to their sibling yap about films all day.

All films will be linked.

Portrait of God: I'm a tiny bit biased as this was a recommendation by @riize516 who knows me and my taste pretty well, and honestly this one was just up my alley! I love the small details she helped me notice, and I love how they tried to materialize something as abstract as the concept of God.

This may come across as a little weird? But I feel like this comes out as horror because it is seen through the eyes of us, humans, who cannot fully comprehend the actions of God and the message he intends to deliver, it is how we experience those actions what terrifies us. The God portrayed (huh) in this film despite being incomprehensible and terrifying, also comes across as kind and tender nonetheless.

I usually have strong feelings against really dark scenes in films where you can’t see a thing, however in this case I think it was completely justified, and it adds to the tension and storyline, the darkness paired with the amazing score makes the experience whole. The making of was also interesting, I always enjoy getting the insight of the directors/writers regarding their works, I will probably go back to other films by Dylan Clark, specially after noticing he’s also the director for “The pretty thing” (which I reviewed last time), a film that came 5 years before this one, it really makes you realize how much he has grown. 

The strange thing about the Johnsons: Boy, being Ari Aster’s therapist must be so much fun /s. I also have a bias here because I really like his vision, he is never afraid of messing with taboo topics and/or getting his main characters through absolute psychological hell.

Withing the first five minutes, you dive into the territory of awkward and uncomfortable, and from then it’s only going downhill. I feel like one of the most disturbing aspects of this film is how accurate it represents SA inside a family, however with the novelty of having some roles reversed, putting the power dynamics we’re so used to seeing on it’s head.

The little glimpse we get of Sydney writing his last book, “Cocoon Man”, is disheartening, because it allows us to see how much blame he puts on himself regarding his own assault; this awful guilt and responsibility is also enforced by Isaiah, who blames him and belittles him to keep his position of power and sustain the abuse overtime.

Isaiah manages to subdue his father through manipulation, making him believe he’s an accomplice of his abuse. I think in a longer format Isaiah would be fascinating to dissect, because as we see in the last scene with him putting on his father’s clothes, he really does seem to yearn to be the most powerful one in his family dynamic, putting himself above both of his parents.

As many things do, this reminded me of a powerful quote by Oscar Wilde, in which he said, “Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power”.

Munchausen: Another one from Ari Aster, and again, it’s focused on family (bombastic side-eye).

I want to give it kudos for portraying so much without a single word uttered during the whole film, the music does wonders to help you get sucked into the storyline, and the idyllic, fantasy-like quality of the setting makes the not-so-pure intentions of the mother pop against the background by contrast. Also, I think this isn’t talked as much, “The strange thing about the Johnsons” had literal incest, however, Munchausen has emotional incest (or covert incest), which can be as damaging and is far less acknowledged.

Furthermore, I may be dumb(?) However if I’m understanding correctly, the first full 8 minutes of the film are just the mother’s fantasy, and the rest is the consequences of her actions, the actions she took to avoid a future that was only real in her fantasies. She wasn’t even threatened by the absence of her child, it was the idea of his absence.

The parallels during the film, like between the toy and the son, and the mother going after the car and trying to cling to the casket, they are impeccable.

And this is a personal beef I will have with the film, but if anything this is not Munchausen, it’s Munchausen by proxy (MBP), you don’t have to see me out, I know the way, the DSM-V and I will have a great time together (And it wouldn’t be MBP, it would be Factitious Disorder Imposed on Another or FDIA, but yeah I’ll shut up, actually walking to the door as I speak).

Beau: Judging by the name, the plot and the fact that it’s written and directed by Ari Aster, I think I will have to check his 2023 movie “Beau is afraid”.

I think it’s great to see an earlier work from a director like Ari Aster. I think this one is not as good as the other short films I reviewed here, but it feels like witnessing a humble beginning. 

The paranoia, the irrationality, and bizarreness of everything becomes palpable and makes you question the sanity of the main character, taking you along with him on his journey to madness, the ending making the whole thing even more confusing. Also, the possum. Just. The possum.

Special Day: Honestly, this wasn’t one of my favourites because it felt like it wasn’t a new idea, but I cannot for my life put into words of what it reminds me of. The idea is concise, and the suspense is extended for as long as it possibly can.

Personally, I’m not a fan of the constant sounds the sentinel makes and the darkness of the whole film.

Caregiver: After reaching the end, it’s hard to see if anything the Nora said it’s true, or if everything was just a lure for her victim. The descriptions of the people she talks about tend to fall on generic, she messes up her story (regarding the dad being dead or alive), and seems to be focussed on keeping the door closed and the sound of the creature to a minimum. The stabbing felt like it came out of nowhere tho, but the frustration felt by the filmmaker is palpable as the creature crawls towards him

I think it could have been a little more interesting if it was seen all the time through the lens of the camera used for the interview, just a thought.

The other side of the box: I think I had seen this one recommended EVERYWHERE before, but hadn’t watched it until last night, when I decided to binge 8 short films once again. If you ever encounter anyone like Shaun in your life, kick them out as fast as you can.

The box is alluring enough, with its pitch black inside and bottomless properties, but besides that I think I didn’t feel too much novelty because it reminded me of SCP-173, you know, this guy.

So the whole time I was thinking “I know this feeling, I was in these trenches when I was 12”. 

The “I gave it to you” part was a huge plot twist within the concept and immediately lets us know that whatever is inside the box, must be already out by the time Ben gets back.

Make me a sandwich: 

In the beginning I could truly feel for the main character, how she wanted to do her own thing but kept getting interrupted by the man-child that is her husband, requesting what is used as an argument by man when they have no intention in having a fair argument, so they just blurt out “why don’t you go to the kitchen and make me a sandwich”.

The plot twist is intense, like a staccato, it lasts for exactly as long as it needs to get the viewer to comprehend what has been going on before cutting to the kitchen again, an absolute masterpiece.

If I keep doing this, I'm guessing it will become a tradition, so I will rank all 8 films:

The strange thing about the Johnsons

Portrait of God

Munchausen

Make me a sandwich

Beau

The other side of the box

Caregiver

Special Day

Thanks for reading! If you have any recommendations, please share, I'd be glad to check them out.

[opera-ghosts]

From Clara Butt : her life-story by Ponder, H. W:

She stands out head and shoulders from among her contemporaries in personality as she does in stature, and the amazing range and power and beauty of her voice have placed it beyond comparison with all others. That superb voice alone must inevitably have won worldwide fame for her. Yet to Clara Butt her voice is only a means to express something greater than any voice —greater even than music itself—a spiritual force that must have found expression through her by some means even if she had had no voice at all. But, having that stupendous gift, she has wielded, and still wields, a power for good that has made her (as a celebrated divine once said of her)“ one of the greatest missionaries of our time.”

It seems strange at first glance that neither Miss Brooks nor Mrs Butt, both singers and lovers of music, should have realized that Clara was a contralto. The explanation lies in the phenomenal compass of her voice. ‘The contraltos of that day—outstanding among whom were Patey and Antoinette Sterling—had really little more than an octave in their voices. But Clara, even as a child, could sing ‘high B’s’ as comfortably as she could ‘ low G’s’; and, since Miss Brooks herself could sing no higher than her pupil, she fell into the trap, and made the egregious error of classing Clara’s voice as soprano! Clara, however, had her own private opinion about the matter ; and after having been taken to a concert at the Colston Hall, to hear Belle Cole, she would sit down at the piano when she came home and try whether she could make the same kind of sounds as she did—and she found that she could! And when she grew a little older she discovered a new and fascinating game; she would ‘try her voice’ on the passers-by, and, watching them through the window,would consider she had scored a point if they stopped to listen. This, as time went on, they often did.

She continued her lessons with Miss Brooks, but she was a self-contained child, and spoke to no one about her music. So it was not until Miss Cook happened to call upon Mrs Butt one afternoon, while Clara was at her favourite diversion of practising ‘low notes’ in the back room, that the schoolmistress ever knew that her pupil sang at all. By way, no doubt, of making polite conversation, Miss Cook presently remarked to her hostess, “What a very nice voice your boy has!” “Boy?” exclaimed Mrs Butt, laughing, “that’s not a boy; that’s Clara, your own pupil!” and proceeded to explain how the said Clara was really a soprano, but that she would insist on trying to sing these deep contralto notes to amuse herself.

A writer in the Sydney Sun, during her first Australian tour, said of her:

The beautiful voice is one thing… but… there is ‘something more exquisite still’?! The singing of this great contralto is warm with the life of breathing womanhood—it throbs with the earnestness of one who is a singer by the grace of God. In the work of Clara Butt you recognize the qualities attributed by Swinburne to that of George Eliot—* a genius warmed by the suns of travel, with its gracious union of ease and strength, its fulness and purity of outline, its clearness and accuracy of touch, its wise and tender equity, its radiant and temperate humour, its harmony and sincerity of tone.” Of Clara Butt it may be said that, all the difficulties of her art having been overcome, this gloriously gifted woman moves free and unfettered, giving effect to what she designs, in the assured certainty of powers obedient to her will.

At one of the concerts at which she appeared during this period Clara Butt learned a lesson that has been of value to her all her life. Always emotional, she _ became so affected by her song, that she found herself —to use her own words—“ red-eyed and snivelling,”’ with her voice noticeably affected by the tears that she could not repress. ‘Till now she had rather thought it the proper thing to be ‘worked up’ when singing ; but this experience brought home to her the lesson that the singer must control emotion, not be controlled by it, if it is to be conveyed to others.

She was so tender, so humble, so touchingly simple and sweet that one melted at the sight of her. No such magnificent or seductive apparition has ever been seen before or since on any stage or platform. Her voice was so immense in its softness, richness, freshness, that it seemed to be pouring itself out from all round; one felt it to be not only faultless, but infallible ; and the seduction, the novelty of it, the strangely sympathetic quality !_ How can one describe the quality of a peach or a nectarine to those who have only known apples? And until she appeared, the world had only known apples—Catalinis, Jenny Linds, Grisis, Albonis, Pattis—the best apples for sure— but still—only apples !_ Ifshe had spread a pair of large wings, and gracefully fluttered up to the roof and perched upon the chandelier—she could not have produced a greater sensation. The like of that voice has never been heard—nor ever will again. A woman archangel might sing like that—or some enchanted princess out of a fairy-tale. It all seemed as easy to her as opening and shutting her eyes—and yet how impossible to anybody else.

[..]The applause after her first solo, Slowly, slowly, up the wall, was tremendous, and at the close of the oratorio she recerved a wonderful personal ovation, in which her fellow-artists joined, Albani saying, ‘She has the most beautiful voice in England.”

Clara Butt sang, as her last song, Abide with me, and while doing so, unknown to anyone present, passed through one of the most awkward moments of her career. .

As she took a deep breath a fly was drawn into her mouth, and down her throat. She very nearly choked ; but struggled on with tears in her eyes, and, as her listeners afterwards said with unconscious truth, “ tears in her voice,” managing to get through only with the greatest difficulty. For once, as she declaimed, “ I fear no foe,” she did fear one most desperately—the wretched insect in her throat, the “enemy within.”’ It was little consolation to know that by now it had probably paid for its intrusion with its life.

A very characteristic incident occurred at one of these youthful appearances, at the Bedminster Town Hall. She was singing her own and her mother’s favorite, Love's Old Sweet Song, which opens with the words:

Once in the dear dead days beyond recall When on the world the mists began to fall,

and in one of those agonizing moments of mental lapse to which most of us are occasionally prone, Clara had reversed the nouns, and sang:

When on the mists the world began to fall!

She realized in an instant what she had done, and, being far too conscientious to allow so silly a line to pass (even in those days words were as important as notes to Clara Butt), she stopped, said to her accompanist, “Let’s start again,” and did so, winning a most insistent encore at the end of her song. Now “Encore”’ in those days was, far more often than now, taken literally as a request to repeat the same song; but Clara didn't want to sing that particular song again, feeling rather ashamed over what had happened in the first line. She was uncertain what to do; and so, simple and unself-conscious child that she was, she looked down into the audience, to where her mother and Alice Jenkins (who happened not to be playing for her friend on this occasion) were sitting a few rows back, and asked, “What shall I sing, Mother?” Unfortunately Mrs Butt had not her daughter's happy lack of selfconsciousness; she turned scarlet, and bent her head to hide her confusion, refusing to answer poor Clara’s innocent question. Alice, for her part, gave vent to a loud guffaw of laughter, and the audience, delighted with the whole incident, went on applauding louder than ever. She sang the same song at her mother’s and father’s silver-wedding party, and at her own silverwedding concert at Bristol in 1925, and recalled the incident afterwards at supper, at which her mother, Alice Jenkins (now Mrs Willie), and several others of the Bedminster audience were present.

Another ludicrous moment was also at Bedminster, when, as she turned to leave the platform after a song, the heel came off her shoe and lay stranded in the middle of the stage. Clara’ stumbled, recovered herself, and then, not in the least disconcerted, whirled round, pounced upon the derelict, grinned cheerily at the audience, and departed heel in hand, amid appreciative roars of laughter.

[...] If the public will only be as kind to the book as they have been to me, then indeed all will be well! My heart grows big with gratitude when | think of the way that I have been listened to all these years, in all parts of the world, and I like to think that the echoes of my voice may remain in some hearts for many a day.

Soon I may sing no more to you; and already I am keeping eyes and ears open for some one who will take my place—or, better still, for some one with a wondervoice who will make a place all her own.

And the London Dai/y Express :

Her secret? It cannot be translated into speech. Behind her glorious voice, and her immense technical skill, lies that personal genius so easy to recognize, yet so difficult to define. She turns everything she touches into spiritual gold.

Mark Allerton said, “‘ Such a voice does not only sing; it preaches, it exhorts, it encourages, it stimulates.” And Sir Herbert Tree, in a speech, summed up by saying, “She stands beyond our powers of criticism or definition. There is Nature . . . there is Art .. . and there is Clara Butt!”’ He was right, and it is wiser not to try to define. Far better to leave analysis alone, and simply take her to our hearts, thanking “whatever gods there be” for so gracious and pleasant a gift.

Mrs Butt possessed a really beautiful voice, much resembling in quality, though not in range, that of her daughter Clara when in her teens. Owing to her early marriage, she had, of course, had little or no training, but she had naturally good musical taste, and her singing was always very pleasant to listen to. It is of interest that some of her greatest favourites, notably Molloy’s Love's Old Sweet Song, afterwards became some of Clara’s most popular numbers.

Sir Walter Parratt would often recall the scene in after years, and Mr Visetti says of it: I remember as if it were yesterday how she came into the room, I was struck at once with her splendid height and fine carriage, and thought, if only she had a voice to match, how magnificent she would look on the stage. Her face, too, interested me greatly, with its air of intelligence, and play of expression, and I could feel her personality even before she began tosing. And when shedid . . . well. . . it wassimply astounding . . . and I knew that even in its immature state it was the most beautiful contralto voice I had ever heard in all my long experience.

“ The Stroller” remarked in the Evening News :

Miss C. E. Butt was wonderfully good for a student . . . or indeed, for anyone. She is quite at ease on the stage, moves about with confidence and an almost manly grace, looks handsome, and sings extremely well, with a beautiful, rich, even contralto voice. She is very tall and commanding, and seems to have every requisite for the making of a first-rate operatic contralto. I strongly advise Miss Butt to turn her attention to the stage . . . she seems cut out for it. She sang well, paying special attention to the enunciation of her words. I fancy there will soon be a contest among managers for Miss Butt’s services. In figure she is a good deal like Miss Agnes Huntingdon.

The Globe, in a very brief report, found space to say that “Miss Butt, who has a beautiful contralto voice, sang delightfully, with faultless intonation and pathetic expression, eliciting tears as well as plaudits from the charmed audience.”

The Morning Leader, in a report headed “‘ A Perfect Performance of Gluck’s Orpheus—Miss Butt’s Success,” said that “the performance was the most perfect that — has been seen in the metropolis,” and the whole of the remainder of the lengthy account deals with the “wonderful performance of Miss Butt,” asserting that it would ‘‘ stand out as an artistic achievement.”