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[libraryledge]

It's (Not) All Over Now Baby Blue (How A Complete Unknown Won After All)

It's incredible that tonight marked the final big event for the film, A Complete Unknown: the Oscars. It has been an incredible past few months watching its cast passionately share this film with the world. While tonight, the movie didn't take home any Academy Awards, it's safe to say that those who worked on it didn't leave the Dolby Theatre disappointed.

Timothee Chalamet made his appearance at the ceremony hand in hand with his mother, who beamed with pride at her son's achievement. Whether he won or lost, he already held the record of being the youngest two-time Oscar nominee since James Dean. More importantly, he accomplished his mission of embodying Bob Dylan, an artist who refused to be categorized and charted his own path by breaking past expectations.

Monica Barbaro was a breakout star this season with her portrayal of Joan Baez. Despite being a fierce member of the film, Top Gun: Maverick, it was her role in A Complete Unknown that truly introduced her to a new audiences. Her dedication to playing the part of a headstrong woman who was devoted to her career, earned Barbaro the admiration of many people, especially women who saw their experiences reflected through her.

Elle Fanning's emotional depiction of a political activist and artist, who realized the difficulties of loving an rising star brought a once overlooked part of Suze Rotolo's story to life. Edward Norton truly captured the pathos of Pete Seeger, who was caught between his love of the folk music of the past and the realization that the times were indeed changing and headed towards a new sound. Boyd Holbrook displayed the rebellious nature of Johnny Cash, who understood Dylan's frustration and encouraged him to let loose and "make some noise". On the other hand, without saying a word, Scoot McNairy delivered one of the most emotional moments in the film as Woody Guthrie, Dylan's hero, who inspired him to become a singer.

Clearly, the film, A Complete Unknown has many stand out performances that are worthy of an Academy Award. Regardless, those who devoted years of work into this project ended the night on a high note because of the global impact their film made. So many young people who didn't know about the folk scene in the 60's now belt out "It Ain't Me Babe" or shed a tear listening to "Song to Woody". This film also opened up the conversation about the importance of staying true to one's identity amidst the chaos of the world. Yes, the movie didn't take home an Oscar, but it earned something even more meaningful: the love and admiration of audiences who were inspired by the story of Dylan, Baez, and their contemporaries, which is as relevant now as it was in the 1960's. While the premieres, Q&A's, and award ceremonies have come and gone, A Complete Unknown's legacy continues to live on like a rolling stone.

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To Be Great Is To Inspire (A Takeaway From Chalamet's SAG Award Win)

Bright green and black leather was the look that Timothee Chalamet rocked for his appearance at the SAG Awards. After nearly three months of traveling the globe to promote A Complete Unknown, he is back in Los Angeles with the cast of the film to attend one of the final award ceremonies of the season.

From his head-turning red carpet looks, to his unpredictable mode of transportation to premieres, to his roles as the musical guest and host on Saturday Night Live, this press tour has been one for the books. However, what was evident every time that Chalamet discussed the project was how inspired he is by Bob Dylan and how rewarding the project was for him. Perhaps, it was for this reason that when his name was called as the SAG Award winner of the Outstanding Lead Actor in a Motion Picture, he appeared stunned.

While he received recognitions for the film at festivals and award dinners, this was the first time that Chalamet won an award at a nationally televised ceremony. What made this moment so special was the reaction of everyone close to him. Monica Barbaro and Elle Fanning, who play Joan Baez and Sylvie Russo respectively, were seen exchanging looks of elation. Boyd Holbrook who plays Johnny Cash and Scoot McNairy who plays Woody Guthrie could be seen clapping at the next table with large smiles on their faces. Edward Norton, who plays Pete Seeger, congratulated him with proud hug while director, James Mangold cheered from beside him.

However, the stand out moment was the hug that Chalamet exchanged with his mother, Nicole Flender. It can't be emphasized enough how powerful this moment was because one can only imagine the flood of emotions that was going her mind as she watched her son, whom she attended various industry events with in the past, grow from quite literally a complete unknown to one of the most recognized young actors in Hollywood.

Once he made it on stage, the essence of Chalamet's speech can best be described in two words: Bob Dylan. He started off by thanking his mother who worked with the Actor's Equity Fund for 40 years. Then, just like the folk singer was known to do, Chalamet decided to take a unique approach with his words. He admitted that perhaps the more conventional speech would minimize how much work he put into the project, but seeing as this role accompanied him for over half a decade, he believed that it was fitting to shout out his hard work. He's right because five and a half years of guitar and harmonica instruction, vocal lessons, memorizing Dylan lyrics, and transporting oneself into the climate of the 60's is no easy feat.

After thanking his castmates, Chalamet spoke the line that most news outlets will be quoting in their coverage of his win: "I'm really in pursuit of greatness."

Just as Dylan's lyrics offer a deeper meaning below the surface, so does this phrase. Some audience members may have identified with Chalamet's quest for achieving the best and others may have misconstrued it as conceit. However, like Dylan's performance at the Newport Folk Festival, there is more than one way to interpret this moment. Chalamet isn't claiming that he is one of the greats as many people may twist his words to say, but rather he states, "I want to be one of the greats." He is aware that he has a long road ahead as he is still young. (In fact, this win makes him the youngest recipient of SAG-AFTRA's award for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Motion Picture). However, he has a comprehension of this industry that is well beyond his years.

Being an artist is a complex profession. It's something that Chalamet knows and something that Bob Dylan most certainly understands. By shouting out actors in his speech like Daniel Day-Lewis, Marlon Brando, and Viola Davis alongside athletes like Michael Jordan and Michael Phelps, Chalamet makes it clear that an individual's greatness comes from their ability to inspire others, no matter what their devotion may be. He makes it clear that he is truly grateful for the award, but earning the prize doesn't make a person great, rather encouraging others to not give up and to sincerely commit to their passion are what does.

It's bittersweet that the chapter of A Complete Unknown is coming to a close, especially as it evident that this project is a labor of love for Chalamet and the entire cast and crew. With a SAG Award win under his belt, it seems like the perfect way to close out this era of his career, which will no doubt skyrocket from here. The awards night was filled with unexpected surprises and a very moving, but powerful speech. Amidst an industry that can be a whirlwind, it is reassuring to see a young person like Chalamet, who much like Dylan, truly values his craft and has his vision centered on taking his work to new heights. It's a mindset that we all should adopt. We shouldn't be afraid to celebrate our achievements. We should appreciate the people that inspired us to reach our objectives. Most importantly, through our passion, we should strive and encourage others to be great.

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Direct From Domingo (The Unlikely Duo)

As soon as Martin Short and Molly Shannon began discussing Matt and Kelsey renewing their vows during the anniversary special of Saturday Night Live, audiences knew what was coming. Domingo was about to make an appearance! What wild romantic situation would he get into? What crazy turn would the story take? Most importantly, what song was he going to sing?

In case you have no idea who Domingo is and what I am talking about: let me introduce you to an iconic sketch comedy character that spawned from the most random yet fitting partnership between a rising pop singer and comedian.

It all started in May 2024 when Sabrina Carpenter performed her latest single, "Espresso" on SNL, which at that point released barely a month prior. It was only beginning its journey of becoming the song of the summer and the hit that would propel her career into the mainstream. Before Sabrina performed the song on the late night show, SNL cast members were asked to sing the lyrics to her song as a promo for the upcoming episode. Some succeeded and others, like Marcello Hernandez (more about him later), hummed along to the tune with a giggle because they hadn't memorized the lyrics. Yet...

Apart from it being her debut on the show, Sabrina's appearance on SNL was memorable for many reasons. First of all, it introduced her to a larger audience. Despite her decade long career prior to that, many people hadn't been exposed to her music. However, as proven by her Short n' Sweet tour tickets selling out within minutes of their release, that would change very quickly. The SNL performance also marked the first night that she debuted her signature baby doll nightgown that would become a staple in shaping the vintage style that would be explored during this new era for the singer. Perhaps, something that no one could have planned for was how "Espresso" would tie into one of the most viral sketches of recent SNL history.

This is when we get to Marcello Hernandez. With an eager spirit and authentic humor, he was a great addition to SNL in 2022. As a young Latina, I was fond of his inclusion of Hispanic culture in his sketches and found it refreshing how he found a humorous way of telling stories about our culture to a national audience. His most famous sketch up to that point was "Protective Mom" with Pedro Pascal, where he spoofed on the idea of a Hispanic mother who wants the best for her son. It was so successful that the sketch was revived on a later episode where Bad Bunny played a protective aunt. It was clear that Marcello was going places and audiences were loving it.

Fast forward to August 2024 when Sabrina and Marcello reunited at Variety's Power of Young Hollywood event, where they were honored for their budding careers in the industry. Little did they know how much more their paths would be intertwined in a few months.

By fall, SNL began its fiftieth anniversary season with a bang. In October Ariana Grande hosted the episode where a viral hit was born. It began with a wedding sketch about bridesmaids singing off key to the tune of "Espresso" about how the bride, Kelsey, encountered a mysterious man named Domingo during her bachelorette party. The punchline of the sketch is when Domingo, played by Marcello, interrupts them and sings "Kelsey's a friend. She's like my sis, but we did hook up though". After that, the sketch took off on social media as people began acting out the comedic song.

The fun carried into November when Sabrina was on her legendary Short n' Sweet tour. At each show, she "arrests" an audience member for being too attractive. During one of her final LA shows, who was the lucky culprit? None other than Marcello Domingo, who flew from New York, where he wrapped up a continuation of the iconic sketch on SNL with Charli XCX the night before. The LA crowd went crazy as he was shown on a jumbotron and announced "Sabrina! I'm here!" while playfully singing the famous Domingo song.

Now in 2025, SNL celebrated its golden anniversary, and Sabrina Carpenter was invited to perform. She opened the show with Paul Simon on the same stage where nine months prior she was introduced to new viewers, who can now belt out her songs by heart. It was a full circle moment meaning that of course Domingo couldn't miss the fun. In the latest sketch, Matt and Kelsey renew their vows after less than a year of marriage, which perhaps is a wink to how quickly the Domingo sketch grew in popularity. Sabrina plays Sophie, a bridesmaid who sings off-key to the tune of Defying Gravity and You Belong With Me as she retells Kelsey's escapade with Domingo.

Domingo makes his dramatic appearance, much to the excitement of the crowd, and sings with Sophie to the tune of "Espresso". Pedro Pascal and Bad Bunny join the pair and play Domingo's older brothers, Reynaldo and Santiago, bringing the story into full fruition.

It's incredible how much can change in a few months. Marcello modestly credits the sketch's writers for brainstorming the idea of Domingo, which lead to his one of his first iconic personas on SNL. Sabrina credits her fans for the success of "Espresso" as they embraced her playful lyricism. Both performers had an incredible year as Marcello is now a main SNL cast member, and Sabrina is a Grammy winner. (If that wasn't enough, both coincidentally have their first Funko Pop debuting this spring). Who knows what else the future holds for them? One thing that's certain is they'll always share an unexpected connection that came direct from Domingo.

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Consider The Whole Story (A Commentary On Fandom)

If you tell someone that you are a fangirl or fanboy, they might give you an odd look because of the connotation of being nerdy or obsessive. As a self-proclaimed fangirl of many topics, I can tell you with certainty there is more than meets the eye. I was a shy girl who found comfort in the Wizarding World and can vouch for people who, like myself, use their love for their favorite films, shows, and music to face the mental and physical battles of their own world.

When I stumbled across the Harry Potter books on a rainy day in middle school, what attracted me the most was not the spells and potions, but the camaraderie of the Golden Trio. As someone whose family moved regularly, making friends was difficult, but reading about how Harry, Ron, and Hermione treated each other as equals and supported one another’s ambitions gave me hope to find friends of my own. Truthfully, I spent many lonely lunch hours reading the books and eventually discovered the joy of fanfiction (#romioneforever XD). However, being part of this community was a beautiful experience because I eventually met people who also found joy in the adventures of misfit wizards and pushed me to write original stories that I dream of publishing someday. 

This story isn’t unique to myself however because I know people who have used their involvement in their fandom to build their identity. A childhood friend of mine was obsessed with animation and shows like Phineas and Ferb (something we had in common). Truthfully, for sixth graders who are trying to be cool this might not be the key to being popular. However, he was always drawing and had his mind set on becoming an animator. I am proud to say that now, he has worked as a graphic designer for well known music artists and is striving to share his art with a larger audience, something that he told Swampy Marsh, the co creator of Phineas and Ferb, when he met him in person.

Perhaps the love of fandom is inherited because a story that highly resonates with me is from my aunt who used fandom to help her overcome the darkest period in her life. As a young adult, she was diagnosed with anxiety. There were days when it was difficult to get out of bed, but the one thing that kept her company was the music of her favorite singer. Her lyrics spoke to my aunt and helped her clear her mind when it felt as if it might burst. One day, she heard on the radio that the singer was going to be at an album signing about 20 minutes away from her. Mind you, my aunt hadn’t driven very far in a significant period of time, but she knew she couldn’t let that opportunity pass. To this day, she tells me the story of how she drove on the busy highway and was one of the first in line to get her CD signed, something that she treasures to this day. 

Fandom may be scoffed upon by those who don’t understand that it isn’t solely about cosplay and conventions. While these elements are fantastic, there is more to it. People scoff at the boy who knows Taylor Swift lyrics by heart, but they don’t know that those songs helped him cope with a difficult family life. They laugh at the girl who treasures Pokemon cards, but perhaps those cards were a gift from someone she lost. Others tease adults who watch Steven Universe, but they do not understand that this show helped them feel seen as a queer person. Fandom has the power to impact people’s lives. There are many published authors who started off as fanfiction writers and reporters whose first exposure to media management was running online fan accounts. Everyone’s experience is different, so before judging someone’s passion or dismissing it as nonsense, remember to consider the whole story. After all, fandom is not a weakness. It is our strength.

[libraryledge]

The Spy Who Loved Me (A Story Inspired By The French Dispatch) Part 3

A/N: Here's the third chapter of The French Dispatch story. Writing from Juliette's perspective as a spy is such a fun challenge. Please enjoy!

My plans to spy on Zeffirelli had turned into a longer operation than anticipated. It was much more frustrating and obnoxious than I desired them to be. Mrs. Krementz, as it turned out, did not stay for dinner and escaped with him to her apartment.

I was beginning to lose patience and could say that I was surprised when their rendezvous took a more passionate turn, but to be honest, I wasn't too shocked. Zeffirelli had an unconventional nature, and if he wanted to sleep with a journalist, that was his business. It shouldn't have bothered me, but for some reason it did.

Frustrated, I shut off the radio, not wanting to be a fly on the wall as things between them got more serious. All I wanted to know was what his stupid manifesto said. Instead, I gathered more information than I cared to possess. Annoyed, I trotted back into the loud girls dormitory and stomped off to bed, throwing the radio into a corner on the floor.

The next morning, I was awoken by muffled voices coming from a spot beside my bed. I sighed, already accustomed to the commotion of the dormitory. However, it struck me as bizarre because most of my dormmates were seldom early risers. That's when I realized that the radio I chucked across the room hadn't in fact been shut off. Instead, it was still transmitting the sound from Mrs. Krementz and microphone.

“I added an appendix,” I heard her voice say. I scrambled to my feet, picked up the radio, and scurried to a spot in vicinity that wouldn't awaken my sleeping roommates.

I couldn't hear Zeffirelli's response, but I could tell that he wasn't too pleased with the ordeal.

Eventually, I heard him say, “You finished my manifesto. Without me.” Now it was her response that was difficult to hear. I figured that her coat, in which the microphone was hidden, was probably thrown to the ground during the previous night's activities, which was why it was hard to grasp the full conversation.

I made out a few of Mrs. Krementz's words: “Clear... concise... poetic...”. These were all things that I assumed she was telling him that his manifesto lacked. Without seeing his face, I knew enough about Zeffirelli to comprehend that he was hurt because she didn't think that his original writing was good enough to uphold the cause.

A bit of shuffling later, it sounded as if Mrs. Krementz left the room. All that I could hear was Zeffirelli mumbling to himself as he remained alone and began reading the manifesto aloud. This was exactly what I wanted all along.

However, as he murmured about proclamations and social justice, something felt off. His heart wasn't tuned into what he was reading.

“At least she didn't change my inscription,” he said with a sigh. What was so important about the inscription? I doubted that it held as much significance as the content of the manifesto.

Suddenly, I heard Mrs. Krementz shuffle back into the room. She told Zeffirelli something about his parents being worried about his whereabouts, and her words were met with silence.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Zeffirelli said at last, the vulnerability evident in his voice. As much as I hated to admit it, I empathized with him because there were so many moments when I also felt helpless about our cause. Here he was with a manifesto that he was proud of only for it to be torn down by an adult whom he thought valued his opinions. It was a feeling that I knew all too well.

What conversation conspired next, I wasn't sure because at that moment, Mrs. Krementz picked up the coat that held the microphone. She let out a confused retort, and suddenly, an intense static transmitted through the radio, which was an indicator that my secret had been uncovered. She crushed the recording device, and now, all that was left was for me to contemplate the aftermath in silence.

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The Spy Who Loved Me (A Story Inspired By The French Dispatch) Part 2

A/N: I'm having a blast writing this piece and exploring Juliette's antics and point of view. Here's part two of my story inspired by The French Dispatch.

My plan worked perfectly. Not only was Mrs. Krementz an unknowing accomplice in it, but now, I didn't need to sneak into Zeffirelli's home in order to hear his plans for the manifesto. Some people may call this unethical, but to me, this action was for the greater good. It was to support the cause.

Once I was safely back on campus and inside the girls’ dormitory, I placed the radio, which was connected to the hidden microphone, on my ear and tried to catch any snippet of the dialogue. I figured that on my way back to my sanctuary, Mrs. Krementz would have made it inside his house. The usual chatter of my dormmates filled the air, which made it difficult to hear anything. Annoyed, I retreated to a corner of the room to seclude myself from the noise.

As I did so, Mrs. Krementz’s voice filled my ears. She babbled on about her work in the school, and her interest in reporting on student affairs. However, no one at the table seemed to pay her any mind. If she weren't so uptight and close to Zeffirelli, perhaps, I would have felt sorry for her. The conversation droned on, but I was growing impatient. Where was he? Was he not going to join this discussion?

Eventually, after an unusual turn of events, Mrs. Krementz excused herself and headed off to the bathroom, and I assumed it was to clear her mind from the unpredictable dining atmosphere. I sighed. I didn't want to listen in as she took care of her business in the restroom. That was something I didn't plan for.

However, just as I was losing my patience with the entire operation, I heard someone scream. The sound of Mrs. Krementz's quick footsteps transmitted through the radio. Then, I heard a quick swooshing motion, which was followed by a familiar voice. It was Zeffirelli. What was he doing in the bathroom? Mrs. Krementz must have wondered the same thing because she began to interrogate him.

“I'm naked Mrs. Krementz,” he proclaimed. I grinned to myself as his muffled voice filled my ears. They exchanged a few more words, but I couldn't make out what they said to one another.

Eventually, I heard Mrs. Krementz ask, “What are you writing?” Now, we were making progress. 

“Our manifesto,” he replied, and I placed the radio device to my ear, trying to understand what he was saying amidst the noise around me. 

More garbled words projected through. However, I managed to make out Mrs. Krementz saying, “Give it to me.”

I could only assume that Zefferelli stepped out of the tub because a loud scuffling noise was heard, and Mrs. Krementz retorted in surprise. What a strange scene I’d stumbled into! 

It annoyed me that he was letting a figure of authority provide an opinion about our noble cause, but simultaneously, it intrigued me as I might finally learn what his writing consisted of.

As the rustling of papers was heard, I was disappointed because Mrs. Krementz didn't read the manifesto out loud. After a long pause, she let out a sigh and responded, “This is incoherent. How am I supposed to understand what your cause is? It's a little damp.”

I heard the indignation in Zeffirelli's voice as he proclaimed, “Don’t criticize my manifesto!” 

“Oh! You don't want remarks?” she replied in frustration.

“I only asked you to proofread it because I thought you’d be even more impressed by how good it already is!” he retorted, and I had to hold back a laugh. Zeffirelli was used to everyone singing his praises, so this bit of criticism must have blindsided him. 

Truthfully, the entire situation was a huge irony. The leader of the student protests sat naked in a bathtub while a newspaper reporter provided him with notes on the very subject that she was supposed to be reporting on. Here, I was becoming an unlikely accomplice in the entire affair. It felt bizarre, but empowering. Now, all I had to do was figure out what exactly was so damp about Zeffirelli's writing.

[libraryledge]

The Spy Who Loved Me (A Story Inspired By The French Dispatch) Part 1

A/N: Recently, I rewatched Wes Anderson's The French Dispatch. I enjoy seeing the "enemies to lovers" dynamic between Juliette and Zeffirelli. Here's the first part of a short story (told from Juliette's POV) that I was inspired to write about the pair.

Life in the French suburbs was as predictable and orderly as it could be. Everyone obeyed the law, abided by the curfew, respected their neighbors, and of course never bothered to rebel against the government. However, as I got older things became more unsettling. War was raging overseas. People were protesting in other regions, However, here in my town, people seemed fully content with allowing those in power to make decisions for them. It was blind trust, and I couldn't bear sitting around and to watch men in suits make decisions for us while everyone else paid the price 

That's where the rebellion came in. The minute I was old enough to leave home, I enrolled in college. Yes, I wanted to learn a thing or two in the academic setting, but more importantly, I did it to cause a disruption.

I quickly made a name for myself as I went around campus rallying up anyone who would join the cause. What the cause was didn't really matter. The only thing that I cared about was using my voice and standing up to the authority that confined us. 

For the first few months, things seem to be going well. I gathered a group of students who wanted to fight, and we managed to make enough of an impact to catch the attention of an American paper. Now, we had a platform to make our opinions heard. No one could stop us. Or so I thought.

He just had to come out of the blue and make things difficult. Zeffirelli. His hair was obnoxiously mussed, and he always smelled like cigars. He constantly had his nose in a book and was utterly devoted to chess. The man cared about everything and nothing at all. He was the perfect fit for our revolutionary cause. If only he hadn't thrown a wrench into the situation.

As soon as he arrived, he spread his notions about anti-authority, empowering youth, and above all voicing one's opinions, which were ideas that the cause had been vouching for from day one. However, it all came at a cost. Soon, everyone flocked to him as if he'd invented radicalism. The plans that I held for our small group were changing, and now, all anyone wanted to know was what he'd say next in that dreaded manifesto he’d been writing for ages. I knew nothing would be the same after he presented it to everyone, so my mission was to find out what he planned to say before it was too late.

The plan was simple. I had an old bug microphone that I bought at a pawn shop in case of a necessity. This situation certainly fell into that category. Every night without fail, Zeffirelli left campus and headed to his place at 5:00 p.m. If I could hide that microphone in his home before he arrived, I could figure out what he was writing. He was known to speak aloud to himself as he wrote after all.

I didn't share my plan with anyone. First, because I knew how much the student body worshiped Zeffirelli, and going against their self appointed leader wouldn't leave me in anyone's good graces. I wanted to earn people's respect not lose it. Secondly, there wasn't really anyone to tell because as important as this rebellion was, we were certainly a jumbled group and trust, even amongst ourselves was slim. Therefore, I had to act alone. 

I left campus at about 3:45 p.m. That would give me enough time to sneak into the other side of town and plant the bait. As I approached his home, my heart began to race. What if I ran into Zeffirelli on the way there? I had to think of a cover up quickly. Before I had a chance to do so, a woman approached my direction. It was Mrs. Krementz She was a journalist who was reporting on our cause, and she often visited Zeffirelli's family. The rumor around the bend was that the two of them had grown pretty close. To be honest, that idea left me with an uneasy feeling.

I nodded curtly at the woman in greeting, and I was just about to pass her by when I was hit with a sudden jolt of inspiration. I picked up the pace and hit my shoulder with hers, hard enough to get her to stop, but not hard enough to make her suspicious that I did it on purpose. 

“I'm so sorry!” I said in mock surprise. I brushed off her shoulder soothingly as she eyed me suspiciously. I had enough unusual run ins on campus with the reporter for her to question my current motives. Rightfully so, I might add as I clipped the microphone to the coat that I was supposedly helping her straighten out. 

“Juliette,”  she said, in more of a question than a statement. 

“Yes?”  I asked innocently.

“What are you doing around these parts? Have you come to visit Zeffirelli?” she asked, almost a surprise.  It seemed that even she sensed the tension that I held with him.

“What? Of course not! I'm just trying to recruit more people around here to join the cause, which is something that he clearly doesn't care enough about to do himself,” I replied with a roll of my eyes.

She raised an eyebrow and gave me an amused look as she said, “You should give him some credit. He's more invested in the cause than you may believe.”

I scoffed. “I'm sure he is,” I replied, not wanting to keep this conversation running longer than it needed to. “Well, Mrs. Krementz.  I need to get going. I have lots of work to do. Good day to you.”

Then, I headed down the path and back to the campus. I wasn't lying when I said that. Things lined up better than expected for my plan. Mrs. Krementz was going right into the belly of the beast, and soon I was going to know every secret that ran through Zeffirelli's mind. The revolution needed a leader, and I was going to fill that role. No mysterious man was going to seduce all I'd worked for away from me. I wouldn't stop until I knew every word of his manifesto.

Part 2

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Is It New Year's Yet?

2024 was definitely a year of self discovery and growth. I am thankful for this platform and the very supportive people who read my work. This blog started after a friend encouraged me to expand my writing, which included my original pieces and those inspired by my favorite films and shows. Thank you for helping me feel welcome. I know that 2025 will be even better and I can't wait to keep writing. My request box is always open. I am open to writing about any of the topics tagged below and many others that you may be interested in. I can't wait to hear the creative prompts that you send in. Happy new year, and here's to a great new beginning!

Library Ledge Masterlist

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A Complete Unknown: SPOILER FREE Reaction Out of the Theater

Without Spoilers: A Complete Unknown is an incredible film that is definitely worth the wait. Whether you are a Bob Dylan fan or not, this film is a prime example of a well-done biopic and music film.

The story truly embrace the impact of Dylan's unprecedented experiences in the music industry and the role of those who influenced his unconventional journey. The costuming and production design transport audiences to the transformative period that was the 1960's. The soundtrack is phenomenal and captures the essence of the iconic figures of this time period. There is no minor role in this film, and everyone involved in the project should be proud of themselves. It is evident that the cast and crew's years of effort paid off and will be rewarded during award season. I recommend watching the A Complete Unknown when it premieres in your country as it is certainly one of the best films of the year.

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When Your Childhood Celebrity Crush and Current Celebrity Crush Are on the Same Red Carpet...

This wasn't on my 2024 Bingo Card, but I'll take it! 😂 The LA premiere last night looked like so much fun. High praise to everyone involved in A Complete Unknown. I can't wait to watch the film!

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The Path Isn't Always Short n' Sweet (And That's Alright)

Sometimes there are moments that we may doubt ourselves and wonder if we'll ever accomplish our dreams. Here's a little reminder that we shouldn't compare ourselves to other's time frame for success and keep working at goals at our own timing. Only we have the map to our success, and even the seemingly impossible is indeed possible. Case and point: after over ten years in the music industry, Sabrina Carpenter finally hit the jackpot by breaking records worldwide with her smash hit albums Emails I Can't Send (2022) and Short N' Sweet (2024).

As someone who has been a fan of her art from the beginning, it's bittersweet because I always knew that Carpenter could do it. It was just a matter of time until the entire world discovered this as well. At the end of November 2023, Sabrina was barely cracking into the Top 40 on the US radio. Now, this year, she had five songs land on the charts. As of November 2024, she has four simultaneous hits on the radio.

To tell the truth, I cheered just as hard when she was at number forty and when she hit number one. The first achievement, quite literally set the stage for the incredible year Sabrina Carpenter is having. Playing for a sold-out stadium tour, collaborating with her idols, traveling the world, singing on iconic television shows, earning her first six Grammy nominations, and growing her fanbase all happened within the span of a year.

If someone told me at this time last year that Sabrina Carpenter would hit all of these major milestones within the span of a year, I would have thought they were pulling my leg. To be clear, it wouldn't have been because I didn't believe that Carpenter was capable of this (It is very clear that she most certainly is), but rather because it is a rare feat to hit all those major accomplishments within the time frame of a year. This takes me back to my original point. The pathway to success isn't the same for everyone. There are times when we may sit in our rooms at night questioning, who we will become and if we will ever make our dreams a reality. The answer is yes.

When accepting a recognition at the Variety Hitmakers Rising Artist Award Ceremony in December of 2023, Carpenter expressed how she had been told that she was like a tortoise, which initially annoyed her. However, she came to realize the power of this creature because although slow and steady may be frustrating, sometimes that is that is the road that is necessary to take in order to reach the stars. Not everyone's path will be short n' sweet, but that's alright. In that moment, Sabrina Carpenter had no idea how her career was about to skyrocket, but she didn't give up and kept doing what she does best: working late because she is and always will be a phenomenal singer.

AT40 Charts (One Year Apart)

[libraryledge]

Meet the Parents (A Thanksgiving Tale)

A/N: As Thanksgiving approaches in the US, I want to express my gratitude for everyone who supports my writing. Here's a Thanksgiving piece about Gatsby from A Rainy Day in New York having an awkward visit with his girlfriend, Chan's family. 🤭(There are some phrases in Spanish, so the translations will be in this font). Please enjoy.

The weather was finally feeling crisp and cool. Being away in New York for a period of time meant that I got accustomed to the blustery air and fog upon my breath as I made my way across the city. Now, I was home in California, where the seasons took a while to come around as they all tended to blend into one. However, the leaves were finally falling and the wind was strong enough to wrestle pedestrians’ hair, which was exactly what was happening to my boyfriend, Gatsby at the moment.

I giggled as I watched his ever messy curls dance in the breeze. I reached out my hand and pushed them lightly out of his face, making eye contact with him. 

“Are you ready?”  I asked him, as a crooked smile crossed his lips.

“To meet my girlfriend's parents? Gosh! Can anyone truly ever be prepared for that?”  he replied with a shaky laugh.

I smiled at him. It was endearing to see how nervous he was because it showed how much valued our relationship.

“To be fair, this isn't the first time that you've met them, but it's true that this is the first time seeing them since we became official,” I said, taking his left hand in my right one.

“I know it's cheesy, but I just want to leave a good impression on them. My Spanish isn't up to part either, which doesn't ease the nerves,” Gatsby said, with an apologetic shrug.

I raised his hand to my lips and kissed it, chuckling to myself as his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink.

“They both speak English. my dad is not 100% fluent, so that's why he prefers to speak in Spanish,”  I replied.

My parents were migrants from Latin America, who came to America in their early twenties. Their first language was Spanish. My mom studied for a few years in the US before permanently settling here, which helped her pick up the English language quicker. My father was a mechanic, which made it a little easier for him to get by with a conversational understanding of the language. Regardless, he was taking night classes to improve his skills.

“I know,” my boyfriend replied, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. “ I am bilingual too, so maybe I can charm them in French.”

I swatted him playfully with my sweater sleeve.

“Dork,”  I said with a smile. “I don't think it works that way.”

“I did bring your mom a quiche though, so the French side of me will make an appearance no matter what,”  he joked.

I chuckled. “Noted,”  I replied, as I stepped on my tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. He quickly responded by turning my chin gently to face him. Then, he placed a tender kiss upon my lips. I melted into his warmth. Oh how I loved this man!

“I care so much about you,”  he whispered as we pulled apart.

“It shows,” I replied teasingly, but I also meant it sincerely. What other reason would he travel across the country with me to join my family for Thanksgiving dinner? He was truly the best.

Gatsby shook his head in amusement at my slight jab, and we walked hand in hand about another block to my parents’ apartment.

“Ready?” I asked, as we climbed up the outdoor stairs to their front door.

“Ready,” he replied with a smile. I could tell that he was still nervous, but our little chat had calmed him down a bit.

I rang the doorbell with one hand and held my boyfriend with the other. I waited a beat, and heard my mom's two chihuahuas, Fonzie and Richie, who were named after the characters in Happy Days, my mom's favorite show here in America, bark to let her know that she had visitors. I heard footsteps rushing to the front door followed by the sound of her four locks being opened.

We were then met with her smiling face as she swung open the door. “Hola, mi reina. Como estas?” (Hello, my queen. How are you?) she said, eagerly enveloping me in a tight embrace. It felt comforting to be in her arms again after so much time of being thousands of miles away from her.

“Estoy bien Mamá y usted cómo ha estado?” (I'm good Mama. How have you been?) I said into her shoulder as the embrace continued. I knew that my decision to move away from home was tough on both of us since we'd been inseparable for my entire life.

“Bien, bien,” she replied as we pulled apart. “Corriendo como una gallina sin cabeza porque tu papá se fue a la tienda y se le olvidó el achiote. Entonces tuve que ir yo a comprarlo hoy en la mañana y me retrasé.” (Good. Good. I'm running around like a headless chicken because your dad forgot to buy an ingredient at the store, so I had to go buy it this morning. Now, I'm behind schedule).

I chuckled as she described her dilemma of trying to finish the meal on time after my father forgot to buy one of the main ingredients at the store.

Suddenly, my mom looked up and faced in the direction of Gatsby,  who was watching our reunion with a smile upon his face.

“Y este guapo quién es?" (Who is this handsome fellow?) She said with the sly smile, knowing very well who he was since I never shut up about him during our phone calls over the past semester.  It was evident by the way that the tip of his ears turned red that his Spanish was good enough to understand my mom's compliment.

“Buenas tardes señora,” he said politely. “Yo soy Gatsby, el novio de su hija y es un placer conocerla.” (Good evening mam. I'm Gatsby, your daughter's boyfriend. It's a pleasure to meet you.)

I smiled at his seamless use of Spanish. Impressed, my mom gave me a pleased look. She wrapped him in a hug as well, which in turn made him even more flustered. So far so good, I thought to myself as they exchanged greetings and he gave her the quiche that he brought.

As we headed inside, the smell of pan con pavo and mashed potatoes filled my nose. That was the beautiful thing about being from two different cultures, the blending of traditions always made for festive family gatherings.

Inside, the home was bustling with activity. We were quickly greeted by my two older sisters, who were both married and brought their husbands and children to the family gathering. I hugged and kissed them in greeting, and then brought them over to Gatsby. My siblings exchange looks with each other in glee. I know they were dying to discuss all the details of my new beau during the first free moment the three of us had to ourselves. It would be like old times sake when we discussed crushes with each other within the privacy of our crowded, but cozy room.

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt a small tug upon my sleeve. it was my youngest niece, who was just a few weeks shy of turning four. I smiled and picked her up.

“Hi!  Long time no see. how are you?”  I asked, booping her nose playfully.

“I’m good, tillita (auntie),”  she replied between giggles 

Then, she turned towards Gatsby and snuck a glance at him.

“Is that your husband?" she asked me, attempting to whisper, but her voice was still loud enough for him and everyone else in the near proximity to hear.

My eyes widened in surprise, “No, sweetie. He's my boyfriend,” I replied quickly.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Boyfriend?” she questioned, clearly not familiar with the concept.

“He's someone that I care a lot about, but no, we're not married like your mommy and daddy are,”  I replied.

“Later, you get married?”  she asked, with the insatiable curiosity of a toddler.

“Honey!” my sister exclaimed suddenly, clearly mortified by my niece's nosy remarks. “I am so sorry!” she said apologetically to Gatsby, who’d remained eerily quiet during the entire exchange.

I turned to face him and was surprised to see that his nervous look from earlier was replaced by a grin that spread from ear to ear.

“No, no. It's okay,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “She's bold and asks the hard questions. I like her.”

My sister looked relieved that my niece hadn't made him feel uncomfortable. In fact, my boyfriend winked at my little niece playfully, and she giggled, further solidifying that there was no bad blood between them. My heart melted at the scene. Who knew he was so good with children?

Suddenly, I heard someone clear their throat loudly. I looked around and was surprised to see my father standing in the doorway of the kitchen, observing the scene before him.

“Papa!” I said, heading over to greet him with a hug. He reciprocated the gesture and lovingly placed his chin on my head.

“Hola mi hija. Qué bueno verte de nuevo,” (Hello my daughter. How lovely to see you again.) he said, sincerely. 

As we pulled apart, his gaze landed upon Gatsby. 

“El es tu novio?” (Is he your boyfriend?) my father asked, studying the man before him, who was smiling nervously. My father wasn't a strict parent, but he always wanted what was best for us. My eldest sister shot me an empathetic look because he acted the same way when she brought her now husband home for the first time.

“Sí papá, él es mi novio, Gatsby quien conocí en Nueva York” (Yes dad. He is my boyfriend, Gatsby whom I met in New York.) I replied  with a smile, as my boyfriend took a step forward and stretched his hand out as a greeting.

“Buenas tardes señor. Mucho gusto conocerlo,”  (Good evening sir. It's a pleasure to meet you.) he said, warmly.

“Igualmente. ¿Cuánto tiempo llevan juntos?” (Likewise. How long have you been together?)  my father asked, and like my mother knew very well when we started dating, but I figured he was just trying to make conversation.

“Seis meses” (Six months) Gatsby replied, and I could tell he was trying to maintain a stable conversation in Spanish.

My father nodded. “Qué bueno. Espero que tengas apetito porque mi esposa y yo hemos preparado una cena muy rica,” (That's good. I hope that you brought your appetite because my wife and I prepared a delicious dinner.) he said.  I knew that this was a mini test because my parents took pride in their cooking, so my boyfriend's reaction would be important. 

The young man beside me squeezed my hand lovingly. “Muchas gracias señor y sí uh…” (Thank you sir, and yes uh...) he paused awkwardly, recalling how to say the next part of his sentence in Spanish.

“Tengo muchos hombres,” (I have a lot of men.) Gatsby replied, proud of himself for remembering how to respond correctly.

However, the chatter in the room suddenly came to a halt. My boyfriend must have sensed something was wrong because he squeezed my hand a bit harder, which I reciprocated. My father took a step closer to us and studied with my partner.

“Tienes muchos hombres?” (You have a lot of men?) he asked with a serious look upon his face.

Gatsby nodded uncertainly, and I heard my youngest sister snicker behind us. I shot her a dirty look, and she immediately stopped.

“Papá, ya para por favor,” (Papa. Stop please.) I pleaded, giving him a knowing look.

Suddenly, my father's serious look morphed into one of amusement, and he let out a hearty laugh, unlike any I had ever heard from him before. Gatsby looked over inquisitively at me, and I shrugged with a laugh of my own. He gave me a small smile in return.

My father placed his hands upon my partner's shoulders and said mirthfully, “Son, you just told me that you have a lot of men. I think you meant to say, Tengo mucha hambre (I am very hungry)” he said between laughs. I watched as the color drained from my boyfriend's face. He turned to face me, searching for confirmation. I nodded reluctantly and watched as his pale visage was replaced with an embarrassed red one.

"I'm so sorry! he exclaimed, completely forgetting to respond in Spanish. “Yes, all I meant to say was that I am very hungry!” He ran his hand through his hair awkwardly. “I'm still in the beginning stages of learning Spanish,” he admitted. 

My father, who was still grinning in amusement, nodded his head empathetically.

“My English is not good. I understand,” he looked at my blushing boyfriend in the eyes. “I'm only teasing you m’hijo. You try. That is important. You're a hard worker. I see why she likes you.”

I smiled at my dad, gratefully. “Es un buen muchacho, Papa (He is a good man, dad),” I replied.

My father nodded. “Sí, se nota. Cuídalo bien.” (Yes, it shows. Take good care of him.) he whispered in my ear as he wrapped me in a warm embrace, before heading off to help my mother finish the final touches on dinner.

Gatsby and I were left alone in the living room, as my sisters and their families went to set up the dining table. He held his head in his hands and said in a muffled voice, “Gosh! I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life. Now, your whole family probably thinks I'm a player,” he said with a groan. 

I giggled and removed his hands from his face.

“Nobody thinks that. They all understand that it was a slip of the tongue,” I responded, reassuringly. "In fact, do you want to know what my dad said?”

He nodded, reluctantly, and I looked into his beautiful emerald eyes. 

“He said that you're a good man and not to let you go,”  I replied. “I think that's more than enough proof that he really likes you. Honestly, I don't think I've ever heard him laugh so loud.”

Gatsby gave me a hesitant smile and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Glad I could be of service,” he replied.

I smiled at him and said, “He's right. The way you acted with my little niece, my mom, and even my sisters proves how incredible you are.”

I took a deep breath and held his gaze. “That's why…”  I began nervously. “That's why I love you.” Now, it was my turn to blush, as I finally voiced the emotion that had been blossoming inside me.

His eyes widened at the confession, but quickly softened as he gently took my chin in his hand. “Do you know how long I've wanted to say those very words to you?” he asked with a shy smile.

“Really?” I asked, almost breathlessly. 

He nodded. “I love you so much, and if that means that I have to make a fool of myself in front of your parents to prove it to you, then so be it,”  he replied.

He leaned in closer and shut his eyes as he placed his lips, which were slightly chapped from the cold, onto mine.  His taste was sweet and tender as he expressed his love for me. I placed my hands around his neck and then ran them through his gorgeous curls. 

We stayed like this for a while until I heard a little voice behind me say, “Abuela says dinner is ready!”

Startled, we saw my little niece standing in the doorway, staring at us with a smile as she said, “Are you sure you two aren't married?”

Flustered from being caught in the act of a passionate kissing session, I didn't know how to respond. To my surprise, Gatsby  chuckled and replied, “No, we are not married.”

He bent down to her level and said in a hushed voice, “Can you keep a secret?” She nodded eagerly. 

“Ok. Then, you can be the first to know when it happens,” he said in a whisper to her, but still loud enough for me to hear him.  I felt myself flush at his words.

My niece giggled as she replied, “Okay!”

As she ran back into the kitchen gleefully, Gatsby shrugged playfully at me. At that moment, I had no doubt in my mind that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

The family dinner only solidified that feeling. I watched as he helped my mother serve the pan con pavo.  He and my father exchanged jokes in Spanglish, which cracked up the entire table.  My niece loved him, and my sisters loved him for that. The occasion wasn't picture perfect, but it was beautiful. The memory of this evening was one that would be engraved in my head, and it was the story that my niece recounted years later as she raised a toast to us on the night of our wedding.

[libraryledge]

I wasn't sure how to go about leaving requests, but would you ever consider writing for Regulus Black? Totally asking for a friend...😏

Hi! I definitely welcome requests. I haven't been specific about my request guidelines, but honestly, I'm down to writing about many of the topics listed and tagged this Masterlist (or any new ones that you may be interested in). Speaking of which, I love the marauders era, and I your request really inspired me to write my first piece about Regulus Black. I hope that you your friend enjoys it! 🤭

Here you go: https://www.tumblr.com/libraryledge/768100805500944384/safe-haven-a-regulus-black-story?source=share

[libraryledge]

Safe Haven (A Regulus Black Story)

A/N: This is my first time writing for Regulus Black. Thanks to a kind request in my inbox, I took on the challenge! This story is about the reader encountering a mysterious and distressed Regulus in the library and how the pair connects over books.

The library has always been my safe haven. A place of quiet and tranquility to collect my thoughts, to study, and most importantly to read. Books have always been my favorite companions. They offer me a chance to explore, learn, challenge my opinions, and above all travel to new places and meet new people.

Most of my classmates at Hogwarts preferred to spend time at the Quidditch pitch or by the lake. While I loved these places as well, I felt most at home with my nose in a book. It's not as if I was an extremely reserved person. In fact, once you got me going, it was hard to get me to stop talking, especially if the topic was a good book. However, most students preferred not to think about reading outside of class time.

Therefore, one could imagine my surprise when a scrawny boy with curly hair and deep green eyes was seated at my usual spot at the library table. He was intensely scrutinizing a book as if attempting to decipher an ancient riddle that was written amongst its pages. curiosity got the better of me so I walked over towards him. He was so engrossed in the text that he did not hear me approach the table.

“ What are you reading?” I asked, making him jump.

He gave me an annoyed look, and I could tell he was trying to cover up the fact that I scared him.

“What's it to you?” he replied with a look of displeasure.

I frowned, but I didn't let his cold demeanor bother me. I startled him after all, and he probably wanted some peace and quiet as he read. However, I was still dying to know. Hardly anyone came up to the library to read for fun.

“Well, I myself am a huge bookworm, and just by looking at the way you're scrunching your nose as you turn each page, I can tell it's something incredible,” I replied.

The boy scowled down at the book, avoiding eye contact with me as he replied, “ I am not scrunching my nose!”

I chuckled at his serious demeanor and said, “ Boy! You are grumpy. It's okay. You don't have to tell me.”

I was used to people not wanting to engage in conversations with me over my chatty nature, but something about this boy was intriguing. I studied his stern face for a second until it hit me.

“Black!” I exclaimed as he finally looked up at me with a perplexed look.

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and confusion.

“Regulus Black! You're in my potions class! Turn around for a second," I said eagerly.

“Why?” he asked, his signature sour look plastered upon his face.

“Please just do it,” I said.

With a huff, he gave in and turned around ever so slightly. I studied the back of his head, specifically the thick dark colored curls.

“I'd recognize that hair anywhere!” I proclaimed, much to his confusion.

“I sit behind you in class,” I explained.

He scoffed and replied, “I know that,” sounding almost insulted that I implied that he didn't remember me.

“I'm glad to know that you do. You always have your nose in a book so I wasn't sure,” I replied.

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips as he retorted, “You're one to talk.”

“Hey!” I protested, but was equally amused as he was right. I approached him to talk about his latest read after all.

“So… what are you reading right now?" I inquired, trying my luck again as I took a seat next to him. Much to my surprise, he didn't protest.

“A Standard Book of Spells,” he revealed, almost reluctantly.

“Seriously?” I asked, not fully grasping how that could cause him to consume the pages so eagerly.

“What? Not interesting enough for you?” he asked, giving me a side-eyed glance.

“No, that's not what I meant. It's just that your eyes practically danced across the page as you read. I assumed that it was a wild fantasy or a thrilling romance tale,” I responded.

“Do I really strike you as the romance novel type?” he asked, following his brows in an attempt to mask amusement.

“I don't know. This is the first time I've heard you utter more than a sentence that involves you telling Barty Crouch to shut up.”

Regulus snorted “He deserves it. Besides, I don't mess with fictional stories. Reality is complicated enough as it is.”

He said this with the hearty sigh that led me to wonder what hardships he faced in his life. I didn't know much about the scrawny fellow, other than the fact that he came from the Black family, which was one of the most prestigious pureblood wizarding houses.

I knew he had an older brother named Sirius, who if he didn't share a physical resemblance to Regulus, I'd never have guessed was related to him.

Sirius was constantly goofing off with his Gryffindor pals James, Remus, and Peter, while Regulus kept to himself. This tended to make people hesitant to approach the brooding figure. Despite not knowing much about him, I always figured that the pressure of being part of such a prestigious family must be difficult. I didn't blame Regulus for wanting to avoid confrontation.

Studying him, I asked, “ So why the spell book?”

He took a deep breath and then exhaled, “I'm trying out some new charms. An experiment.”

“Really? Isn't that dangerous?” I asked him. “My friend Pandora is always tinkering with spells, and I'm terrified that she'll get herself killed.”

Regulus contemplated this for a moment. “Well… we've got to learn somehow. How else would someone know the truth if they don't bend the rules a bit? A person's got to leave their mark on the world somehow or it’ll leave a mark on them.” He tugged on the sleeve of his robe anxiously as if it held a secret he was trying to conceal.

“Okay. That's pretty insightful,” I replied, impressed as Regulus squirmed in his seat over my compliment. “Anything in particular you're trying to learn?” I peered at his book.

“Well, I overheard Severus Snape working on some incantations the other night and wanted to try them for myself, but the information in the books is quite limited,” he said.

“Snape?” I asked in surprise. He was an odd fellow who was somewhat of an outcast. Lily Evans seemed to be the only one he spent time with on occasion. However, rumor had it that they'd had a row, and since then, Snape had been acting more dark and mysterious than usual. In fact, word around the castle was that he was involved in the dark arts.

Regulus nodded. “He's a strange bloke, but he's wickedly clever. I'd love to be able to learn his way with magic.”

I frowned and said, “You need to be careful with that. Snape's been known to mess around with the dark arts. That's a dangerous route to follow.”

Regulus looked paler than usual as I said that. After a moment of uncomfortable silence he said, “Toujour pur.”

I arched and eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Always pure” he replied. 

I shook my head. “No, no, no. I know what it means. I do know a bit of French. I mean what do you mean by that?”

It's the Black family motto. We are driven by so-called purity. Pure ambition. Pure education. Pure sacrifice. Pureblood,” he said with a sigh. “I've always felt the need to strive for success and prove to my family that I fit their ways, and I'm not just some pathetic loser. Maybe learning those incantations could be my way.”

“You don't need to perform risky incantations to prove yourself to others, and if anyone expects that from you, then maybe it's time to distance yourself from them,” I replied seriously.

He sighed once more, and we sat in silence for a moment until he said, “My brother, Sirius moved out over the summer. He spent the school holidays living with his friend James Potter because he couldn't stand being around our parents.”

I mulled over his confession and replied, ”I'm so sorry to hear that. I had no idea.”

“How could you? It's not like I go around chatting things up with every witch or wizard I meet,” he replied sarcastically. I had to smile as I pictured the usually sullen Regulus gossiping with our peers.

“Sometimes I resent my brother for leaving me alone with our perfectionist parents. Other times, I envy him because he managed to escape their harsh expectations,” he admitted reluctantly.

I nodded sympathetically. I figured that Sirius and Regulus weren’t as thick as thieves considering how one spent his days prancing around Hogwarts while the other preferred the confines of the library. I just never knew the reason for their strained relationship.

“It does make sense. You crave the freedom that Sirius has, but you also feel the need to live up to your family's name,” I replied understandingly. “I know you said that you've grown apart, but I bet you and your brother are not as different as you might believe.”

He raised an eyebrow at me and I could sense the scoff that he was about to emit.

“I’m serious,” I replied, and he gave me a smirk.

“I didn’t know you were my brother,” he said with an amused look.

“Ha, ha,” I said, rolling my eyes at his attempt at being comedic. “Glad to see you can have a sense of humor.

He shrugged, “There’s a lot people don’t know about me.”

I nodded empathetically. “What I meant was that you both clearly have a shared trauma. It’s just the way that you cope that is different. Sirius seems to find creative ways to distract himself from your parents' pressure, and you seem to gravitate towards meeting their expectations.”

Regulus met my eye with an incredulous and reluctant look. “So, you’re a shrink too?" Apparently, I’d hit the nail on the head with my observation.

“What can I say?” It’s the Hufflepuff in me. All my loyalty and kindness must be put to use somehow,” I joked.

He nodded pensively. After a beat of silence, he said, “Thank you”, as he studied the book in front of him. I knew he was only using it to hide behind because his eyes were no longer dancing across the page.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, matching his now gentle tone.

Regulus eventually looked up at me, “I know I may come off as a prick to most people, but I’ve had a lot of responsibility thrust upon me recently. There’s also so much darkness surrounding me. I want to leave it all behind, but I feel like I don’t have a choice,” he said with a sigh.

I sensed that he was alluding to a specific situation, but I didn’t push for him to elaborate.

“I may not know everything you’re going through since you’re a man of few words,” I teased as I elbowed Regulus playfully, which prompted a smile from him. “But, it’s evident that you’re not all darkness,” I replied.

He scoffed, “I appreciate you trying to inflate my ego, but trust me, I’ve really screwed up a lot in my life.”

“Who says I haven’t? I could be a real whack job under this kind exterior. You don’t know where my loyalties lie,” I joked.

Suddenly, the color drained from his already pale face, and for a second, I thought he was going to be sick.

“What if you trusted someone that you shouldn’t have, and now there’s no way out, and I’m…uh…I mean you’re stuck,” he asked with a twinge of desperation mixed with painful regret in his gaze. In our short conversation together, I’d come to realize how much he spoke with his eyes. They communicated what his words could not.

Curiosity was killing me over what circumstances could have left such a grave mark upon Regulus, but I continued to push aside that inkling feeling.

“There’s always a way out. It may not seem that way in the moment, but there’s always an antidote to break a curse, metaphorically speaking of course,” I replied.

Regulus looked at me, and for the first time during our conversation, he held eye contact with me for more than a few seconds.

He swore under his breath. “I wish we’d had this conversation sooner. You could have talked me out of doing something stupid,” he said and then paused. “You’re really smart,” he said, finally breaking eye contact.

I waved off his compliment. “I’m definitely no Ravenclaw. Besides, I’m sure anyone could have told you what I just did.”

"But most won’t,” Regulus said matter of factly. "I appreciate the insight. You probably get it from all those books you’re always reading in class or in the library.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his comment.

“What? I may be stupid, but I’m not oblivious. I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he replied with a smirk.

l felt my cheeks grow warm over the implication that Regulus found my habits interesting enough to take notice of.

“Anyway, I’ve talked more about myself than I’ve liked to, so I believe it’s only fair that I flip the table and ask you: what are you reading?” he interrogated with a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Oh!” I said with a chuckle. “The Tales of Beedle the Bard.”

“Fairy tales?" Regulus asked with a grin.

“Hey now! I didn’t judge your reading material, so don't judge mine,” I shot back.

“Me being judgmental? Never!” he teased, and I had to laugh.

“But in all seriousness, I’m surprised that someone as well read as yourself hasn’t read that one yet. Isn’t it like the first book wizarding families read to their children?”

I grew quiet for a second, unsure of how to respond.

At last I said, “The key word there is wizarding families,” I said and paused before continuing. “I’m muggle born.”

Regulus’ eyes widened at my confession. “What? You’re so knowledgeable about magic and the wizarding world in general that I assumed…” he began, his voice trailing off.

“There’s an old muggle saying about assumptions. If you assume, you make an ass out of you and me,” I replied, watching as his eyes shifted from surprise to almost bashful as he registered my words.

“You got me there. I'm sorry. Old habits die hard,” he replied awkwardly. “My parents have been trying to instill their pureblood propaganda into my head.” He tugged at his left sleeve nervously. “I do hope you'll forgive me for my ignorance.”

I gave him a small smile to show him that I wasn't upset.

“Apology accepted. Trust me, being called smart by a sweet guy like you isn't the worst thing I could be called as a muggle-born,” I replied.

Regulus’ pale face flushed pink, but whether it was over my compliment or the insult I was alluding to wasn't clear.

“Gosh! You've enlightened me in more ways than one today,” he replied, still slightly flustered.

I shrugged. “It's a special skill I possess,” I replied with a wink. “Anyway, I think I've kept you long enough. I should probably head up to the dormitory.

“You're leaving already?” Regulus asked in surprise.

“Wow! For someone who didn't want me around earlier, you're a little eager for me to stay,” I teased.

Regulus smiled down at his book, and I had to admit that he looked much more handsome with that expression instead of the usual scowl he wore.

“I mean we spent the entire time talking about my problems. Don't I at least get to know more about you?”

Before I could respond, a clock was heard striking outside in the Great Hall. “Like I was saying, I have to go. Cinderella needs to get home before the magic runs out,” I said in jest.

He gave me an inquisitive look, clearly not understanding my reference.

“Oh, right. I forgot. You don't read fairy tales, much less muggle stories,” I told him as he rolled his eyes good naturedly.

”Smooth,” he replied sarcastically as he gave me a small smirk.

“I'd be happy to share some with you if you'd like. Perhaps, we can meet here again tomorrow evening. Unless, you have a hex that you're researching so you can use it on people who annoy you,” I teased as I eyed A Standard Book of Spells upon the table.

He gave me an uncharacteristically sheepish look, which made me think that my flippant comment wasn't far from the truth. “Luckily, you haven't made it into that category,” he said with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Yet,” I replied with the same playful tone.

He snorted and asked, “So tomorrow then?”

“It's a date,” I replied, picking up my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard and giving him a final wave as I headed towards the library's exit. As I walked out, the last thing I saw was the small smile that crossed Regulus’ lips as he closed his spell book.

I didn't care what anyone thought. The library would always be my favorite place. People are often dismissive of those of us who love to read, but we tend to be the ones with the most interesting stories to tell. Surrounded by the shelves of fact and fiction, we find camaraderie and become open books. I couldn't wait to return tomorrow because no matter what secrets we possessed, the library was our safe haven.

A/N: I am super proud of this piece, so thank you again to the person who requested a Regulus Black story. Please feel free to request a topic you'd like me to write about next from my Masterlist (or another character or topic that interests you).

[libraryledge]

The Road to Success (And to the Oscars)

Last night in Los Angeles, was the first public screening of A Complete Unknown, and many critics received the film with high praise. With this in mind, I can't express how much I'd love for Timothée Chalamet to win his first Oscar this year. Yes, I am a fan of his, but it goes deeper than that. He's worked for years to prepare for the role of young Bob Dylan on his rise to fame. The opportunity for this biopic came to him before the release of blockbuster films such as Dune and Wonka, which made Chalamet a household name. He read countless books, listened to hours worth of music, and traced Dylan's footsteps in order to get into the headspace of singer in the 1960's. He not only trained his voice to capture the artist's sound, but most importantly worked to embody the folk legend's essence.

Interestingly, Chalamet would be the youngest best actor winner in the Academy Awards' history if he won. He already made history in 2018 for being the youngest best actor nominee in almost 80 years for his role in Call Me By Your Name. As someone who is passionate about acting and cinema and would love to work in the industry someday, this gives me hope. Young people are often underestimated because they are believed to have short attention spans or not possess enough experience to make an impact in the world of filmmaking. Chalamet disproves this by not only leading an incredible ensemble cast in A Complete Unknown, but by serving double duty as a producer on the film as well. While it is true that as the up and coming generation, we must learn from the achievements of those before us, it doesn't mean that we aren't capable of blazing our own path and proving that we have enough grit and determination to make waves in the industry.

However, as much of a milestone it would be for Chalamet to win an Oscar, awards aren't what make a film or performer great. Rather, the passion and dedication to a project are what lead to success. Bob Dylan himself is someone who knew that best. Yes, people sung his praises and applauded his lyricism, but even when those who once commended him turned their back on him, he persevered with his craft. To this day, Dylan's aim isn't for recognition, but rather the ability to get his point across and share the art he creates with audiences.

Whether the Academy will reward Chalamet during its ceremony in March for his commitment towards bringing Dylan's story to life is something that only time will tell. Since this award season has several directors, actors, and peers that the young actor collaborated with throughout his career, who are in the running for other top prizes, it would certainly make for an emotional night. It would be incredible to witness this full circle moment of the actor being called to the stage to face a room filled with people who watched him grow both as a person and performer over the past decade. Whether Timothée Chalamet will take home the coveted statue remains a mystery whose answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind. However, one thing is for certain: award or not, he is already a winner as he has inspired countless individuals like myself who know that tenacity and love for one's craft are truly the road to success.

(Current Oscar Predictions According to Variety Magazine)

[libraryledge]

Find Me (A Call Me By Your Name Story) Pt 2

A/N: I was on a writing streak today, so here's part two from Oliver's point of view. Thank you for reading!

Oliver's POV:

I think about you all the time. That summer was the best one I ever had. You were so young, and I thought I knew it all. If only I knew then how ignorant I was. My mind is deceitful and always takes me back to the moments that I kissed your lips, played with your curls, and spent breathless nights within your arms.

I thought that she was who I needed to feel whole. To feel complete. To feel normal. I was wrong. You were always so free and so wise beyond your years, and I envied that. How could someone so young be so mature? Age isn't everything it seems because adulthood has been the most confusing stage of them all. You allowed me to open up doors within myself that I'd been too afraid to explore. Doors that I'd been instructed never to open. Curiosity killed the cat after all, but now, curiosity is killing me.

What could we have been if I hadn't turned the page on us? I still hear your heartbroken voice on the other end of the phone as I told you my plans for the future. What you'll never know is how disheveled I felt after I hung up. I cried. I hadn't allowed myself to do that in years, and there I stood balling my eyes out like they were the Venetian River. Oh my dear, all because of fear.

The world has built constructs of who are meant to be and where we are meant to go, but all that does is fill me with woe. Things were simpler when I didn’t complicate them, when I just let everything be and let myself be me.

Adulthood isn’t it all it's cracked up to be, yet I still tread on. I was once drunk on life, now I'm drunk on sorrow. Is there truly a tomorrow?

Philosophy and anthropology were never my thing. They were just the earnest hunger of a young man, or perhaps I was afraid that they'd open up a part of me that should remain sealed.  Love and lust. Fear and desire. All the things that torment me as I sit here and admire the couples in America walk hand in hand without tire.

You were the forbidden fruit that I was meant to ignore, but the temptation was too much for me, and I took a bite, unleashing irreversible chaos upon the world or perhaps it was only my world. You seem to have moved on, and I am left to pay the debt for my sins.

Music was your greatest love, and I knew it from the start. Amidst the bickering and banter, the piano was your friend and the melody was your lover. It is truly what has stuck with you until the end. It filled the void that I never could. How I wish that I could. It kills me to know that we could have made the perfect duet if I hadn't sung off tune. That's all I can think of on this sullen afternoon. 

Maybe someday we'll meet again and I can confess my mistakes. You'll share your stories of how you're now a man. Hopefully, I can tell you that I am no longer a kid. Love is a beautiful rhythm that I long to follow. I dare to believe that it is in the cards for me, and someday I shall finally be free.

[libraryledge]

Find Me (A Call Me By Your Name Story) Pt 1

A/N: I was in my feelings and decided to write a Call Me By Your Name piece from Elio's point of view once he is grown up. It is loosely inspired by the sequel, Find Me. Enjoy!

Elio's POV:

I haven't thought about him in a long time. He used to be my everything. We would spend long nights together in northern Italy stealing kisses, riding bikes, and just having the time of our lives without a care in the world. Before him, I thought I was in love with her, and while she did bring me joy, she could never compare to him. At times, there are parts of ourselves that we must dare to explore and understand the unspeakable questions before we truly find who we are. It can be frightening at times, but it isn't until we cleanse ourselves of uncertainty that we can find certainty. That's how I made it back here. 

For a long time, I've been running, but I'm done with that now. The past is the past and while it will forever be a part of me, my new chapter begins now.

After he left and got married, I took up piano professionally. I became a professor, teaching the way of the heart through music. This was my dream. So many relationships before have failed me. Either the man or woman got bored of me, or I didn’t feel an intimate connection with them. Music on the other hand, was my salvation. It gave me the courage to look at myself in the mirror and realize my worth instead of viewing myself how others saw me.

That's how I ended up here in the same square where I was a confused lovesick child, longing for connection. While he gave it to me, it wasn't what I needed. standing here once more as a grown adult I realize that now.

My job is to play for the masses, and teach them the very lessons I learned here years ago. With my piano, I play the notes in the same manner that he played with my heart. Love is a melody after all, and no amount of pain or sorrow will ever take that from me.

As they all line up outside the concert hall to listen to my melody, part of me longs for his return. The image of myself within his arms calls to me, but I know that it is simply an illusion. A ghost of the past. I am a better person now, not because of him, but because he happened.

I'm done beating myself up over what once was and what could have been. I was afraid of going down the wrong path and leaving a forbidden fruit unexplored. Truthfully, that never was me. I always painted inside the lines until he spilled ink upon my canvas. I gave into the temptation but I will not any longer. Yes I am now free, having experienced the joy of art without boundaries, but I'm no longer on that path. I am free. That curiosity explored, That itch scratched. Now, I can move on and become myself.

Who is that now?  An artist who has the whole world as their oyster.  It's beautiful not to have stupidity and doubt within my mind.  It's incredible to be free of such ignorance and complacency.  I can draw on the walls. I can play until my fingers bleed. I can be free to feel the truth within my heart. I'm grateful to be where I am now. It is all thanks to that time we spent together that allowed me to uncover the music in myself.