#Flanagan: bad take

[starburstsobsessions]

Guess what!!! It’s rangers apprentice Jenny!!!!!

Hiiiii flanagan is full of shit btw Jenny did not get skinnier and prettier because of it. She is fat and she is so pretty and she is wonderful and has about 3 paragraphs in this whole series so far. Trust me I’m a professional btw. The line in book 8 rlly pissed me off so!!!!

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Cried some big fatass tears reading the latest chapter of @undercoverpan 's ghost Spider fic, and I need to take some time to examine why this ghost nocorro au just really hits me in the dick every time.

There really just has to be something about doomed love, and especially children, that just gets me. The remnants of something that was once beautiful and now will never be whole, it just hurts. God, okay, I gotta go watch The Midnight Club again, this is THE vibe of that show. I cried seven full times just watching the last episode of that show. Grief and tragedy irrevocably intertwined with inevitability and acceptance.

Speaking of this, dON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT FIC FROM LAST NIGHT Follow Me Down to the Peach Tree by famed nocorro oneshot writer CherryApollo. Took the ghost nocorro au and tragic soulmate aus and made it 1000000 times worse??? Like I was crying agAIN, twice, over these goddamn ghost nocorro aus.

I have so many questions. Do the other Sully's know about Spider? Would they have been the same age, so ghost Spider just popped up around when Neteyam was like five and when Neteyam started playing with and noticing him Jake and Neytiri were devastated? I can't even fathom how sad it is that Neteyam is just doing his best to forget about this. This soulmate au world is so tragic, like my mind went instantly to a buddy cop type thing where Neteyam is trying to solve Spider's murder as soon as he's old enough to realize what happened, and it's all this way to throw himself into ignoring that even when it's solved Spider is still dead. I'm writing that as a concept on my novel ideas doc, but I'm mad about it. Fuck, why do we always do this to nocorro, I'm crying again I have to go. I'll write some ghost au headcanons that will fix this tragedy for me tomorrow because I can't handle it rn.

[rinhaler]

the fall of the house of usher AU with the todorokis

[canadiankazz]

I felt bad about Mike Flanagan not being included so I decided to make another poll.

Inspired by @ktlsyrtis 's poll.

Please, please, please reblog this so it reaches the widest audience possible.

Also sorry if I'm not the only one who's done another poll.

[thelifeofchuckmovie]

When it comes to ending the world, Stephen King is a repeat offender. He has brought life as we know it to a brutal conclusion several times over the decades, usually highlighting the cruelty and desperation that erupts among the last to go. But his 2020 story “The Life of Chuck” uses doomsday to evoke some unlikely sentiments: Wistfulness. Gratitude. Even joy.

The idea of creating an apocalyptic version of It’s a Wonderful Life is what led filmmaker Mike Flanagan to call dibs on the rights to the novella more than four years ago. The breakdown of society, extinction-level natural disasters, and the disintegration of reality itself is explored through the lens of one relatively meek and mild accountant, played by Tom Hiddleston, whose memories and choices are mysteriously connected to these tribulations. Retirement posters congratulating him on “39 great years” pop up everywhere. But who is this guy? What job does he do (or did he used to do)? And why does it matter so much to the fate of the world? This apparent nobody named Chuck Krantz has lived larger than anyone thought possible.

Having explored King country before in 2017’s Gerald’s Game and 2019’s The Shining sequel Doctor Sleep, Flanagan got involved after reading an early copy of “Chuck” before it was published in the collection If It Bleeds. The Haunting of Hill House and Fall of the House of Usher creator produced the film independently, believing it might be too offbeat for risk-averse studios to greenlight. He even secured a waiver from the striking Hollywood guilds last year to move forward with the shoot while the rest of the industry was stuck in the work stoppage. Now he and Hiddleston are ready to reveal the finished version of The Life of Chuck as it heads to the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival, where it will screen for potential distributors.

Among the skeptics about this adaptation was King himself, according to Flanagan. “His initial responses to me were a little like, ‘Oh, okay. Yeah. If you think that’s a movie…,’” he says. “He did say several times that he thought it would be a challenge to get it supported through traditional means.”

King has now seen the finished movie and no longer has doubts. He described it to Vanity Fair as “a happiness machine.”

“Well, he’s written something very tender and very wise,” Hiddleston says. “I think there is a great wisdom in the soul of the story, which is that it takes courage to hold on to what is good in a world that feels like it’s falling apart.”

Flanagan hopes others see it that way too, although the overpowering dread that begins the story may be more immediately relatable. “I’ve heard it said that every generation feels a little like the world is ending at some point, [but] I still feel like it’s different for us,” the 46-year-old filmmaker says with a mordant laugh. “Institutions we took for granted as propping up our society are failing left and right. Our politics have degraded spectacularly. The sense that it’s breaking down, that the world is moving on, has been increasingly palpable. When I talk to my parents or members of older generations who have been through their own turbulent times, the thing that strikes me is that they’re like, ‘Oh yeah, this is really bad.’”

But…it’s not entirely bad. And that’s the underlying message of The Life of Chuck as its various mysteries play out. “There’s no sense of terror in the way that King drew it,” Flanagan says. “Even as the world feels as though it’s ending, people become introspective, they reach into their past for loves that have left their lives for one reason or another. Strangers engage in open and fearless communication.”

It’s an indie-film variation on the big-budget cataclysm story. “A disaster movie has people meeting the end while running from tidal waves, and this story has people sitting quietly holding hands looking at the stars,” Flanagan says.

The key to it all is Chuck himself, although he doesn’t turn up onscreen until the second segment of the three-act story, which plays out in reverse chronological order.

The beginning is actually the end, as the whole world circles the drain. Caught in this spiral is Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years a Slave), a school teacher trying to apply logic to the planet’s troubles; Karen Gillan (Guardians of the Galaxy) is his ex, a hospital worker determined to save everyone she can; Matthew Lillard (Scream) is a construction worker neighbor who finds zen amid the chaos; and Carl Lumbly (Alias), plays a funeral director who has dedicated his life to easing people through death.

The end of the movie is actually the beginning, showing young Chuck (Benjamin Pajak) when he was a boy being raised by his grandparents (Mia Sara of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Mark Hamill). The insight of these two—coupled with the otherworldly revelations he finds in an eerie room tucked into the peak of their Victorian home—help him learn to seek out bright spots when life is marred by sorrow and darkness.

In elementary school, young Chuck discovers some important things about himself thanks to guidance from a brusque dance instructor (Samantha Sloyan), and a kindhearted English teacher, played by Kate Siegel, who gives the boy (not to mention the audience) some important information that serves as a code breaker for the story's more cosmic puzzles.

As for the middle of the film: It’s a dance number. That’s when Hiddleston steps in.

Compounding the peculiarity of The Life of Chuck is the question: Why is this song and dance sequence so important? The answer is for the movie to reveal, but it matters a lot. “The life of every human being is a constellation, as expressed in this film,” Hiddleston says. “There are certain moments which will burn most brightly as individual stars. Sometimes it feels like the world is going to hell in a handcart, and it’s full of pain and suffering, and it is—but there are moments of deep joy and deep connection.”

Hiddleston shows the audience this single moment in the life of a buttoned-up fellow who somehow controls the destiny of the world. It’s not necessarily the most important day in his life, but it’s a memorable one involving a street drummer (Taylor Gordon), a lovely stranger (played by Annalise Basso), and a fateful decision to cast aside caution and cut a rug. “It’s a reminder to do whatever it is that expresses whatever gives you that feeling of being alive,” Hiddleston says. “Whether it’s music or dancing or math or writing or creativity—do it. Do it now. Those moments are what you’ll remember.”

Flanagan considered casting a relative unknown as Chuck to “give the audience the experience of ‘Who the hell is this person?’” as the peculiar retirement signs begin to appear in the midst of the apocalypse. But he felt the promise of the Loki star would build more curiosity as the world falls apart. “You grow an enormous amount of anticipation to finally spend time with an actor like Tom, who can be a literal god in one story, and then an everyman in another,” Flanagan says.

A TikTok video of Hiddleston getting his groove on sealed the deal. “He had a completely unfiltered joy on his face,” Flanagan says. “He was a good dancer, but that wasn’t what struck me. I wasn’t amazed by the technique so much as the degree of happiness that was radiating off of him. The look on his face made me smile the same way I smiled reading that particular portion of the book.”

The resulting scene was created in a month-long collaboration between Flanagan, Hiddleston, Basso, choreographer Mandy Moore (So You Think You Can Dance, and La La Land), and Gordon, a real-life percussionist who performs under the name the Pocket Queen. “Taylor was there for all of the dance choreography. She wrote that piece of music for that performance. They built it together,” Flanagan says.

Hiddleston rattles off the lists of influences: “I had to learn in six weeks the full regime of any dance training. We did jazz, swing, salsa, cha-cha, the Charleston, bossa nova, polka, quickstep, samba. We were trying to tip our hat to anything that might have influenced Chuck. It might’ve had a bit of Gene Kelly or Fred and Ginger. Certainly moonwalking—Stephen King is very specific about the moonwalk.”

Precision was not the goal, exuberance was what they sought. “We need to always bear in mind that this man is an accountant. We needed this to be an earnest, escalating explosion of joy, and a remembrance of who he was,” Flanagan says. “It’s a chance to step back into the skin of his younger self, not caring that his feet are going to kill him the next day, not caring that he’s going to wake up with a horribly stiff neck.”

A surprising thing happened while shooting the scene over the course of several sweltering afternoons in the deep South. “I burned holes in my shoes,” Hiddleston says. “I was dancing out on the asphalt in Alabama, and by the time we’d finished, you could see my socks through the soles.”

The sequence begins awkwardly: Chuck is self-conscious as he first hears the busker’s rhythm while walking back from a banking conference. That feeling quickly gets shaken off. “Tom was very committed,” Flanagan says. “He was like, ‘If I look silly, that’s fine. As long as I look happy.’”

Flanagan remembers being in a bad place when he first discovered “The Life of Chuck.” Then again, everybody was.

His copy of the manuscript arrived in March 2020. “That was just as the world shut down for COVID,” he says. “We had been a week away from starting principal photography on Midnight Mass in Vancouver and had fled across the border before it closed to make it back to the States. We were hunkered down in our homes and had no idea if this was going to last for two weeks or if this was going to last forever.”

With everything halted as the lockdown set in, Flanagan had plenty of time to do nothing but read. The new King book seemed like the perfect escape. Except…

“The first third of ‘The Life of Chuck’ just rattled me,” he recalls. “There’s no way he wrote this before the world ground to this bizarre halt—but he did. And the feeling of anxiety, and uncertainty, and that everything was falling apart came roaring out at me. I wasn’t sure I could finish it. It just felt too close to the anxiety I was feeling.” But he kept turning the pages. “By the end of it, I was in tears, and incredibly uplifted, and convinced I’d read maybe the best thing that he’d written in a decade. I just was floored by the thing,” Flanagan says. “So I fired off an email to him right away saying how much I loved the story, how incredible I thought it was, how meaningful, and important, and how it had really tattooed itself on my heart and said, ‘It’s the movie I want to make so that it’ll exist in the world for my kids.’”

King’s response: Not so fast. Flanagan and his producing partner, Trevor Macy, had at that point secured the rights to King’s fantasy saga The Dark Tower through their company, Intrepid Pictures. The eight-book series is threaded throughout King’s other works, and adapting it was a massive undertaking that Flanagan is still working to make happen. Other filmmakers had either abandoned the project, were canceled midway through, or bombed miserably. The author didn’t want him to be distracted. “He doesn’t like to give the same filmmaker more than one thing, because it typically means one thing is not advancing at all,” Flanagan says. “He said, ‘Well, let’s focus on The Tower and I’ll try to keep this one available for you for later.’”

The quest to The Dark Tower remains a priority for Flanagan, but a number of disruptions to that epic undertaking led him to reapproach King last year about Chuck. Intrepid’s deal with Netflix, where they had created Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and other shows, had come to a close, and Intrepid signed a new development agreement with Amazon. That meant starting over on The Dark Tower. Meanwhile, the threat of a double-barreled strike by writers and actors was on the horizon, stalling nearly every major new project. The industry plunged into another production-halting lockdown, this time over contract impasses rather than a virus.

Since The Dark Tower was suddenly further off on the horizon, Flanagan saw a chance to make The Life of Chuck happen in the short term. “It’s so rare that I get to approach any project that just has not an ounce of cynicism to it. I just really believed in this thing,” he says. “But it was also clear that we would have an incredibly uphill battle bringing the story to any major studio. They would try to make it as familiar as possible, instead of leaning into what makes it so different.”

King gave Flanagan his blessing to proceed. “I was off like a shot,” the filmmaker says. “I think I turned in the draft to him before he got around to sending the formal agreement.”

For everyone involved, The Life of Chuck became a bright spot in an otherwise dismal time, which matches the theme of the film. “There is a profound optimism in this story,” Hiddleston says. “As the world is spinning off its axis, there are moments of magic.”

[anatay004]

YOUR HEART WAS hammering against your chest as you stared back at the crowd in front of you. Just keep a straight face, you thought to yourself, as the cameras focused on your frame. Mags was standing right next to you, fingers gently latched onto your wrist in silent comfort. As if she almost wanted to remind you that you weren't standing there alone that evening.

But you felt alone.

You took a deep breath as you tried to quench the panic rising inside your chest. Five years ago, you'd been standing there for the very first time. Five years ago, you'd been reaped alongside your male tribute. Five years ago, you'd killed him.

"Welcome as we celebrate the 75th anniversary and 3rd Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games." The escort of District Four started with enthusiasm. But at the mere sound of her voice, numbness rolled over your skin like cream and your throat clogged almost immediately.

For a moment, you couldn't breathe.

The memories were too tough on your head.

Instinctively, you turned to search for Finnick across the stage, but to your surprise, he was already looking at you. A hint of worry glossed over his face as he mouthed for you to take a deep breath. You swallowed hard, but eventually inhaled deeply at his command.

"As always, ladies first..."

You exhaled shakily.

"Mags Flanagan!"

Your heart stopped.

Imagine just how easy it would be to fool the Capitol if you could just step forward, Snow's voice suddenly slid into your thoughts. You clenched your jaw tightly as you took in his words carefully. I want you to dissipate that advantage, Ms. (Y/M), the words rang inside your ears over and over again. He wanted for you to pull off a show, you belatedly realized.

"I volunteer as a tribute."

"Wonderful!" The escort of District Four cheered, as you took a step forward. Mags tried to pull you back, but you were stronger than her and sternly escaped her grip, mouthing that everything was going to be okay.

"Now, for the male tribute..."

You inhaled sharply as you watched the escort fish for a name inside the bowl. For a few seconds, there was a straining silence on stage as everyone held back their breaths and waited.

"Finnick Odair!"

Your shoulders slumped in evident disappointment. For a moment, you'd wanted to believe he could get away, but you knew better than that. He would've volunteered the moment another Victor's name had been called either way — to keep you safe.

You turned to face Finnick, but his whole demeanor had suddenly shifted. He was donning a mask, you knew, but he played the role so well — so heavenly, as he boyishly smiled at the camera. Waving like a Victor, smiling like the whole district was beneath him.

You envied him a little.

He made it look so easy.

"Let's cheer for the lovers of District Four!"

Before you could take in her words, Finnick's lips pressed against yours without a warning. You were taken aback, fell back a step, but didn't reject it; instead, you returned it (remembering you were supposed to be a couple). His lips were soft, almost feather-like against your own — exactly like you'd remembered. For a moment, you’d forgotten about where you were standing, indulging in the fleeting moment you hadn't even realized you were long craving.

Until he was breaking the kiss and you knew the games had just begun.

The train back to the Capitol was quiet.

You were sitting alone in one of the cabins, looking out the window in silent thought. You were hugging your knees as you thought about the first time you'd driven this train before — where you'd first met Mags and Finnick. You were a kid back then, full of anger and terror; on the brink of losing your mind.

You remember tiptoeing around Finnick. Mistrusting and challenging everything that he had to say. You hated how gorgeous he was, how deceiving he seemed — how bad he wanted you to not die. You hated everything about him.

You scoffed at the silly memory.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

"Hey," Finnick's voice suddenly broke into your reverie. You turned to face him quietly, abandoning your thoughts momentarily as he took a deliberate seat next to you.

"Hey," you returned, a little faintly.

"I'm sorry about the kiss." He offered, without bothering to stifle the grin on his face.

"Don't look too sorry." You quipped quietly, before turning to face the window again. For a few seconds, there was a deafening silence between the two of you — an almost painful one, until Finnick eventually cleared his throat.

"You know," He started, shifting a little closer as he searched for your gaze. "For the whole romance act to work, we kind of have to, at least, know how to hold a conversation."

"There's nothing to talk about." You mumbled, snapping your eyes to the side to avoid his gaze.

He sighed audibly. "Look, honey, I know we ended our relationship on bad terms — "

"You ended it." You interjected, suddenly feeling a bubble of irritation boil inside your chest. After discovering the nightmarish truth behind your relationship and learning about the fatal threats that Snow held over Finnick; you'd been quick to forgive him. To love him, despite the lies and "affairs" that'd happened behind your back. You were willing to accompany him, comfort him — and live with his reality if it only meant having him.

But he'd refused.

Choose your destiny for you.

"I did what I had to do." There was an edge to his voice; a silent pled for you to understand. But you somehow didn't, instead, you shook your head and climbed back to your feet.

"Keep telling yourself that, Finnick." You made to walk away, but he latched his hand onto your wrist before you could even take a step forward; forcing you to fall back a step in the process.

"You think a life with me would've made you happy?" His voice raised a few decibels, and you held back your breath at the imminent argument that was about to brew. He leaned closer to your face as he spoke, and your senses immediately heightened at the dangerous proximity between the two of you. "A life with a man who sells his body? His soul? Tell me, (Y/N), what kind of life is that?"

"You were forced." You reminded him, swallowing the knot in your throat as you watched his expression harden.

"It doesn't change the outcome, does it?" He challenged. "You would've had to share your husband — the father of your children, with the people in the Capitol forever. And for what exactly? For a silly marriage? For a 'happy' life?"

You winced visibly as the words slipped out of his mouth. The meaning behind them hurt like glass cutting through your skin, but you tried to quell the sentiment from shattering before him.

A silly marriage.

A "happy life".

Things you'd given everything for.

"You're being mean." You whispered, and his fingers immediately let go of your wrist. For a moment, regret stole over his face as he realized the words had swept so swiftly out of his mouth.

"I didn't mean it like that — "

" — it's fine." You interjected, not wanting to continue with the conversation any longer before you quietly added. "It's not like it matters now."

"(Y/N) — "

" — Goodnight, Finnick."

And with that, you walked out of the cabin without another word.

You arrived at the Capitol the next day and were stationed on the fifth floor of the training center alongside Finnick and Mags (your mentor). You were instructed to rest before tomorrow's Chariot Rides, but you'd decided to entertain your curiosity and replay the games of the other tributes instead.

You knew your games were different from the others. These games were a montage of Victors, people who'd won and killed before. Your chance of survival was far less than the first time you'd been reaped — and that scared you a little. But you were putting your trust in Snow, in what he'd said to you that night when he'd visited your home.

If you achieve to sell your romance act, he'd said to you, the Capitol might even advocate for two winners again.

You audibly sighed as you thought about his words. About how hard it was going to be for you and Finnick to put your differences aside and pretend everything was perfect for the cameras.

But if that meant Finnick was going to survive — then you were going to do just that.

"Do you think it's real?" You found yourself asking out loud, as you watched Katniss and Peeta's games play on the enormous screen before you. Mags sat next to you on the couch, staring at the screen in the same curious manner you'd been before your question made her frown. “Their love, I mean."

Mags didn't respond for a while.

And you returned your gaze to the screen, watching as Peeta took the ends of Katniss' hair gently in his fingertips before throwing the poisoned berries into his mouth.

"I do." Mags eventually signaled with her hands. A faint smile curled her lips as she did so.

And you chewed on the inside of your cheeks.

"Fuck me then." You whispered, realizing that it was going to be a lot harder to overthrow their "fake" romance than you'd originally thought.

After a few hours, Mags eventually went back to her room and you continued to watch the games on the couch until fatigue forced you to shut your eyelids and fall asleep. You didn’t know what time it was or how many hours had gone by when a pair of familiar arms slid behind your waist and knees to carry you back into your room.

You were midair when you noticed, face buried in his neck when consciousness forced you awake. You made to protest against him, but a yawn interrupted you almost immediately and his chest shook in silent mirth.

“Shut up,” You mumbled when you cataloged his chuckle. “I’m still pissed at you.”

“Trust me, I know,” Finnick replied before he stepped inside your room and settled your body gently on the bed. “But I couldn’t leave my girl out there in the cold.”

You didn’t respond right away and he took this as an indication that it was time for him to leave.

“Goodnight, darling.”

You nibbled your bottom lip pensively. You hadn’t spoken to him since the argument you both had the night before. And, despite you hating him for forcing you away and ending everything — you loved him more.

And you knew he did too.

“Finnick,” You called quietly.

He stopped on his tracks. “Yeah?”

There was a pause. “Would you stay with me?”

He didn’t respond, instead, he shut the door close and walked back to the bed without a word. There was a comfortable silence in the room as the other side of the bed deepened with his weight and he slid under the warm sheets. Instinctively, you rested your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped around your waist securely.

There was no exchange of words between the two of you after that — it wasn’t necessary. And as the palm of your hand lay over his chest, it was more than clear that his heart was just underneath your fingertips.

(A/N)

Sorry about the long wait, I was super busy with the holidays and everything. Anyways, in the next chapter we will have beef between the reader and Katniss, jealousFinnick, and maybe a little bit of smut….

@serrendiipty @avoxrising @queerqueenlynn @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @stayc-a-I-m @chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425 @leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

[millietalksra]

Personally I think Gilan deserves an apprentice too (I mean like yes Will is his lil bro and he did train Horace a bit with dual wielding techniques but I’m talking a real apprentice)

Like I think Flanagan should’ve given Gilan a feral woods child who had been stolen from their family and it’s this whole thing where Gilan’s on the trail of the bad guys and right when he’s about to arrest/kill/whatever them the feral child who had their family killed by the bad guys and was taken by them gets to it before Gil does

And it’s like full Eren Jeager shit this kid is going ape shit with a knife on the closest guy and Gilan is like “okay I guess we’re doing this” and they just take em all down

And In typical ranger fashion Gilan’s like “hey kid if you’ve got nowhere else to go I’ll train you or whatever”

I just think it would be amazing like this:

But actually:

Because really Gilan is just as bad but better at hiding it

[ragingadhd]

Something I love about the way Flanagan writes villains is how he just lets them be evil. So many authors and directors try so hard to have “realistic” villains; poor, broken people who have been pushed too far. Those villains can be great and all, but holy shit, if an antagonist’s agonizing backstory only exists for the sake of making a bad guy’s character ‘believable’, it often makes the story clunky.

Flanagan never tries to explain his villains or justify their actions. There’s no “you know, maybe we’re not so different” moments between hero and villain. Morgarath wanted to take over Araluen because he was power hungry. Keren wanted to seize Mackindaw because he had an inflated ego. Jory Ruhl kidnapped children because he wanted money. These are some of the most shallow motives for villains, and I love it. Honestly, I think these are actually more realistic than the ‘morally-grey misguided soul’ type of villain. Do you have any idea the fucking atrocities that are committed for money or power or even just so some guy can jack himself off? A fucking lot.

And I absolutely love the effect it has on the overall story. There’s no wasted time on the main characters learning to understand the villain, no ethical dilemma someone has a breakdown over, no cheesy sob stories. All of those tropes are great in their own stories, of course, but I’m sick and tired of stories that clearly just want to be action and/or adventure getting a shallow moral lesson shoehorned into it because the author got marked down in their high school English class for not being ‘realistic enough���.

Flanagan knows what he wants his stories to be about, and he lets those stories be what they want to be. The rare moments where he gives his villains some deeper motives never convolute the character, but enhance them. Love it.

[simply-ivanka]

A Minnesotan Sizes Up Tim Walz

During his tenure, student achievement has slipped, crime has surged, and state residents have fled.

By Scott W. Johnson - Wall Street Journal

St. Paul, Minn.

Tim Walz has such a bad record as Minnesota’s governor that I was astonished when he landed on Vice President Kamala Harris’s vice-presidential shortlist. As Minnesota’s Center of the American Experiment has documented, under Mr. Walz Minnesota has become a high-crime state. Student achievement has tumbled as spending on schools has skyrocketed. Per capita gross domestic product has fallen below the national average. Minnesotans have joined residents of New York, California and Illinois in fleeing their home state.

Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro—also on Ms. Harris’s shortlist—made sense to me. Pennsylvania is a key state. Mr. Shapiro seems to be a man of substance and would give liberal Jews a reason to vote for Ms. Harris without a guilty conscience. As a Jewish supporter of Israel, I worried that Mr. Shapiro would give the animus throbbing in the heart of the Democratic Party cover. Indeed, that animus drove a nasty intraparty campaign against him.

But Tim Walz? I’m a conservative Republican. I don’t completely understand Democrats’ ways. As an observer of Minnesota politics, however, I understand how Mr. Walz became governor. Having served six terms in Congress from a rural district, he challenged the endorsed DFL (Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party) candidate—a liberal metro-area state senator, Erin Murphy—in the 2018 DFL primary. Ms. Murphy was also challenged by another metro-area liberal, Lori Swanson, then state attorney general. With Ms. Murphy and Ms. Swanson dividing the liberal urban vote, Mr. Walz and his far-left running mate, former state Rep. Peggy Flanagan, won the primary with 41%.

On taking office in 2019, Gov. Walz was restrained by a one-seat Republican majority in the state Senate—until Covid hit in the spring of 2020. He declared a state of emergency on March 25, 2020, and ruled by decree for 15 months. He proclaimed the emergency on the basis of an allegedly sophisticated Minnesota Model projection of the virus’s course in the state. In fact, the projection reflected a weekend’s work by graduate students at the University of Minnesota School of Public Health. Relying on their research, Mr. Walz presented a scenario in which an estimated 74,000 Minnesotans would perish from the virus. The following week the Star Tribune reported that with the lockdown Mr. Walz ordered, 50,000 would die. Maybe it would have been preferable to address the virus through democratic means.

Having destroyed jobs and impeded life routines, including family get-togethers and church attendance, Mr. Walz finally let his one-man rule lapse on July 1, 2021. When the Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Resource Center stopped counting in March 2023, the deaths of 14,870 Minnesotans were attributed to the virus. (In 2020 I successfully sued the administration for excluding me from Health Department press briefings on Covid.)

During the state of emergency, protests broke out in Minneapolis on Memorial Day 2020 following the death of George Floyd. That Thursday, rioters burned Minneapolis’s Third Precinct police station to the ground. Mr. Walz didn’t deploy the National Guard until the weekend. Riots, arson and looting throughout the Twin Cities caused about $500 million in damage.

Minnesota leads the nation in Covid fraud. Under the auspices of the Feeding Our Future nonprofit, its founder, Aimee Bock, allegedly recruited mostly young Somali men to seek reimbursement for millions of meals supposedly served to poor students and families. According to indictments handed up by a grand jury to U.S. Attorney Andrew Luger, Ms. Bock and others allegedly defrauded the state and federal government of $250 million. Ms. Bock has pleaded not guilty to the fraud charges.

Among the 70 defendants charged to date, 18 have pleaded guilty. In April the first of the cases to go to trial had seven defendants; five were convicted. The remaining cases have yet to be tried. In all, the Minnesota Department of Education oversaw the payout of $250 million to reimburse fictitious meals. The nature and scale of the fraud are staggering. Mr. Walz tried to blame state district court judge John Guthmann, who in April 2021 handled a case regarding the department’s processing of applications for reimbursements. According to Mr. Walz, Judge Guthmann ordered the state to continue payouts to the alleged perpetrators of the fraud even after the state Education Department discovered it.

In September 2022, Judge Guthmann authorized a news release titled “Correcting media reports and statements by Gov. Tim Walz concerning orders issued by the court.” The release concluded: “As the public court record and Judge Guthmann’s orders make plain, Judge Guthmann never issued an order requiring the MN Department of Education to resume food reimbursement payments to FOF. The Department of Education voluntarily resumed payments and informed the court that FOF resolved the ‘serious deficiencies’ that prompted it to suspend payments temporarily. All of the MN Department of Education food reimbursement payments to FOF were made voluntarily, without any court order.”

In November 2022 Mr. Walz was elected to a second term, and the DFL won majorities in both chambers of the Legislature. In the preceding two years the state had accumulated an $18 billion budget surplus. With the DFL in full control, Mr. Walz and the Legislature have spent the $18 billion surplus on infrastructure, education and other programs that will burden the state for years. They have also raised taxes.

Mr. Walz and his DFL colleagues have backed measures establishing Minnesota as a mecca for abortion and a “trans refuge.” The legislation prohibits enforcing out-of-state subpoenas, arrest warrants and extradition requests for people from other states who seek treatment that is legal in Minnesota. It also bars complying with court orders issued in other states to remove children from their parents’ custody for authorizing hormone treatment or surgery to alter sex characteristics.

Like so many Democrats who have kept up with the demands of the progressive agenda, Mr. Walz has “grown” in office. In his second term, he has been the most left-wing Minnesota governor since the socialist Floyd B. Olson (1931-36). I doubt that Mr. Walz could be elected to Congress in his old district, which is now represented by a Republican. The idea that he can appeal to voters who don’t already support Ms. Harris seems far-fetched.

Mr. Johnson is a retired Minneapolis attorney and contributor to the site Power Line.

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

before this goes any further, I want it on the record that you all asked for this.

my first and most petty point: Midnight Mass gets basic details about Catholicism wrong, such that even I (not a Catholic) twigged them. The big one is that Catholics DON'T HAVE MIDNIGHT MASS FOR EASTER - it's a Christmas thing - but since the priest holding the mass is also a vampire, I can accept that he's going off-book. I have a harder time with them holding a PICNIC for ASH WEDNESDAY, aka THE DAY LENT STARTS, aka the day everyone starts fasting and are therefore not snacking on a potluck. It's a minor thing, and normally I wouldn't pick at it, but since this show ostensibly revolves around Catholic doctrine, it bears mentioning.

on a writing level, not one single character in this show talks like a human being. or acts like one. I couldn't give you any information about who these characters are as people, because they're not people, they're mouthpieces for Flanagan to impart his ideas to the audience. He is both deeply in love with his own writing and entirely unconvinced that his audience is smart enough to Get It, so he has his actors turn to the audience and lay it all out. Not only is this bad writing on a character level, it brings all plot and tension to a screeching halt whenever it happens. The most unintentionally hilarious instance of this has to be when Annabeth Gish comes to the sheriff to tell him that the church is being run by a vampire and her mother is aging in reverse, and his response is to start rambling about where he was on 9/11. Like. Nothing about this makes sense, and also why should we care when it has fuckall to do with the story?

(as regards the sheriff character: I, a white Quaker, am not the person to critique this show's handling of Islam. But I will say that Flanagan doesn't seem to have a clear idea what he wants to communicate: the overarching plot is antitheistic, in a very r/atheism sort of way ("WHAT IF THE SACRAMENT WAS VAMPIRE BLOOD" ooh wow didja cut yourself on that edge there, buddy) but Flanagan has no idea how to balance that with the precepts of any religion that isn't Christianity while also maintaining his broadly liberal bona fides, so it all sits very uneasily next to the church plot. I'm not advocating for the show to go full Christopher Hitchens, but I am saying that if Flanagan wants to posit that faith is a mass delusion and a net detriment to any community formed around it . . . he needs to either focus only on Christian characters or be willing to engage with how other religions function in society, because as is, the storyline with the sheriff and his son just peters out into nothing.)

but the thing that made me angriest - that took me from "this is so boring and pretentious and badly written" to "oh FUCK this guy and the horse he rode in on -" was the titular midnight mass. It is very overtly inspired by the Jonestown massacre, which a lot of horror media does, but what it fails to account for is that the members of the People's Temple did not voluntarily kill themselves. I know "drink the kool-aid" has entered the popular lexicon as shorthand for "blindly following a leader," but extensive testimony from Jonestown survivors - not to mention the death tape, which is available online if you really want to ruin your day - all confirms that the people who died that day were forced to drink poison at gunpoint, after years of brutal abuse from Jones and his inner circle. And even after all of that, people fought back. And not outsiders - people who had been in the Temple for years and wholeheartedly believed in the mission that had lead them to Guyana in the first place. (Christine Miller was a fucking hero and she deserves to be remembered for it.) Jonestown was not lemmings going off a cliff, and any serious take on the story would involve reckoning with that - that these people believed in a higher power and also believed that they had a right to live despite what Jones told them. But that would contradict Flanagan's point of "religion is dumb, WAKE UP SHEEPLE," so instead he borrows the iconography of a truly horrific tragedy and disrespects the victims by implicitly representing them as dumb, brainwashed cult members who eagerly toss back poison because they think sky daddy wants them to. He has so little respect for the subjects he's portraying, and the real people whose deaths he is copying for shock value, that he doesn't care about the inner lives of anyone whose beliefs might demonstrate that faith is more nuanced than his screed would have you believe.

There are good horror properties out there that are critical of religion and society - The Medium, which we posted about a few days ago, is one. The Witch is another. So is The Sudbury Devil. Hell, you could go back to the sixties with Witchfinder General. Religion - especially socially dominant religions like Christianity in the west - can and should be critiqued. But Midnight Mass is too sloppily written to be a critique of anything besides, accidentally, how far Mike Flanagan's head is shoved up his ass.

Anyway, that's why mod L doesn't like Midnight Mass. I did warn you.

[toxicanonymity]

Hi!😊 What are your favourite horror books, shows and or movies? I'm not very familiar with the genre, but when I was a teenager I was hooked on The Fear Street series (R. L. Stine) and Stephen King books (my faves are Salem's Lot and Pet Cemetery). Recently I read the book with the long title about vampires by Grady Hendrix and I also loved it. As for TV shows I love Mike Flanagan's stories 💚

Fun question! I'm gonna answer it without too much thought, knowing I'm leaving off some faves. Otherwise I'd take forever and make it less fun 🥲. In no particular order. . .italic = added later.

Books - I know that Grady Hendrix one 😅 - "The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires," I liked it too. And Pet Sematary as well. As a kid, I really enjoyed Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, and imo the books hold up lol. I was also into Goosebumps. I like The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson and the miniseries. Horror-adjacent: The Snowman by Jo Nesbø; Sharp Objects by Gyllian Flynn (loved the miniseries, too). When I travel, I pick up a local ghost/hauntings book. Love folklore and urban legends.

Shows: Black Mirror, Dark, Hannibal, Yellowjackets s 1-2, Archive 81 (Matt McGorry is daddy). American Horror Story s1 Murder House. Dark Shows - Bordertown (Finnish). Maniac (sci-fi, the aesthetic scratches my brain soooo good).

Dark Non-fiction: series: Chernobyl, Dopesick, Dahmer, Murder Mountain. Unsolved Mysteries. Movies: The good nurse

Movies, skipping most of the classics: Coherence. The Bad Batch. The Guest. Barbarian. The Night House. Hell House LLC. The Lodge. The Endless. We Are Still Here. It Comes at Night. The Witch. Lake Mungo. mother!. Donnie Darko. Haunting in Connecticuit. The killing of a sacred deer. 10 Cloverfield Lane. The Menu. Candyman (both). [My idea of] Fun: M3gan, Us, Malignant, Terrifier 2, Bodies bodies bodies, It Follows, Thanksgiving, Green Inferno, Happy Death Day. And of course any I've written for.

Honorable mentions for physical effect: When Evil Lurks (Argentinian) made me physically gag out loud in the theater. I thirst-watched The Cursed and it gave me a nightmare (boyd wasn't in it ☹️). Tales from the Loop (sci fi series) made me sob.

I welcome no-pressure recommendations! More likely to try shows/movies.

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

Odesta Week Day 1: Modern AU Monday

"Did you hear the news?"

Annie digs into her locker to find her coat, only half listening to the girls on the other side of the lockers. Whatever news they're sharing can range from somebody lost a paper clip to the world is ending outside, and she probably wouldn't believe them either way. The girls at Panem Skating Club have a penchant for gossip that is more frequently false than true. 

"What news?" the other girl asks. Annie can only see flashes of dark hair every so often from where she's standing, but she can't tell who's speaking. Somebody a few years younger than her, probably. 

"Finnick Odair is looking for a new partner."

Annie almost laughs aloud, but refrains at the last second. Finnick Odair is something of a legend in their skate club. His older brother Adrian was a former Olympic solo skater who took home the silver a few years ago. In their small town, that basically makes you a hero. Finnick himself is a great skater, but hasn't gone to the Olympics yet. Still, he and his partner Cashmere are pretty unshakable. The thought of either of them retiring so early is ludicrous. 

"No way," another female voice calls, as Annie pretends to not be listening. "Cashmere's only twenty-three. That's a pretty early retirement."

"Age isn't the reason," says the first voice. Annie's brows furrow. Injury, maybe? "She's pregnant." 

Whatever is said after this point, Annie doesn't hear. Her coat and scarf are wrapped firmly around her body and there's no need to listen to the gossip any longer. Even if it is true, listening in on the details of another woman's pregnancy just feels invasive. 

Her ankle aches dully as she walks out the doors of the skating club. She's recovering from a minor case of bursitis in her ankle. It's kept her at home for the past three weeks, and Annie hasn't been back on the ice until today. Today's practice had left her sore and exhausted. Apparently, it would take a few days for her body to get used to skating again.

That's one of Annie's biggest issues with solo skating. There's nobody there to compensate for your faults, or to support you in your successes. There are coaches and other skaters who may be friendly, sure, but come competition time, it's just her on that ice. 

These days, Annie's beginning to wonder if she even wants that. 

***

Annie can't be certain why she does it. 

She sits in her car, parked in the diner's parking lot. Maybe it's because the rink started to fill up and she had nothing to practice with no coach. Or maybe she's just curious. 

Okay, back up. Earlier this morning, she had made it to the rink for a practice session, although that quickly proved to be useless. The one highlight was meeting Mags Flanagan, Finnick’s coach. She was an Olympian back in her day before retiring from competitive skating to coach others into the same success she had. When asked about it in interviews, Mags says she'll quit when Finnick does.

So it was quite the surprise when Mags asked Annie to consider being Finnick’s new partner. 

The offer didn’t completely come out of nowhere. It’s not like Annie has anything better to do, and Mags had said that her technique was almost perfect. Her flaw in skating wasn’t about the jumps and spins. It had always been about emoting. Her coaches have been telling her that for years, but their vague instructions have never made sense to her. She can do almost any jump they ask of her, and her spins are basically perfect. What else is she missing?

"Finnick, on the other hand, feels the emotions of the performance very deeply,” Mags had told her. “Sometimes, his technique gets...lost."

And if Mags Flanagan thinks that she and Finnick can balance each other out, it’s probably not a bad idea to at least consider it. 

Taking a final deep breath, she leaves her car and walks into the diner. 

Finnick Odair isn't hard to find. Not only is he one of the most well known faces in their skating club, but he has a sense about him that radiates life. He sits with his back to her in a booth, idly stirring sugar into a cup of coffee. 

Before Annie can talk herself out of it, she slides in the booth across from him. 

"Hi, Annie," Finnick says, like he's known her for years. "Coffee?"

"No," Annie says. "Thank you."

She's expecting the silence to linger, but Finnick picks up the slack easily. "Mags told me you might be coming. I know you probably have questions, but if you want to know why Cashmere's retiring, you should probably go to her for that."

She shrugs. "It's not my business."

"Oh," he says, showing his first hint of surprise. "Cool. Okay. Well, I know this would be a risk."

Annie pretends to peruse the diner's menu, but her mind is on anything but breakfast food. "That's an understatement. Most pair skaters have been together for at least a decade. We'd be at a major disadvantage."

Finnick sips his coffee, wincing at the heat. He pushes it away. "True. But it's not like we're doing so great right now. I mean, my partner just left. And you're..."

She's what? Washed up? Obviously not making it anywhere beyond the confines of her own rink?

"You're a good skater, Annie," he decides on. That was diplomatic of him. "I've seen you perform, and I agree with Mags. But forget about that for a second. If you're happy where you're at, I can respect that. But if you're even a little unsatisfied, what do we have to lose?"

Annie's throat constricts. When she can finally get words out, she asks, "Don't you want to go to the Olympics?"

"I would love to go to the Olympics," he answers automatically, without thought. "More than that, I want to skate."

The same can't be said for a lot of skaters. She doesn't know many people who would be satisfied through the sport alone. There's a certain buzz that comes from competition. Watching her scores climb, standing on that podium. It's intoxicating. Sure, they love the sport, but they love more than just the skating. 

Finnick's unasked question still hangs in the air. "Okay," says Annie, because Finnick's right. Why the hell not? "Let's try."

[uconnposter01]

Chapter 2

Warning:Cursing

4.1K words

  October 2021, Third-Person POV

Nuveah is struggling; she's never struggled this much in her life. The constant thought of saying, Forget this and attempt going to the National Women's Soccer League (NWSL) crossed her mind daily. Don’t get her wrong, the schoolwork is easy, and she loved being here with her sister and friends, but her insomnia has gotten so bad this year that she’s considering leaving it all behind. 

Three major things consistently ran through the soccer player’s mind. If she is even good enough to make it to the NWSL, trying to balance her friends and school. Finally, the person who occupies her mind the most is Azzi Fudd. Nuveah couldn’t get her mind off the girl, no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately, Nuveah knows she will never tell Azzi how she truly feels, so she will just have to admire from afar. 

Trudging tiredly to her self-assigned seat in the back of the lecture hall, Aniyah puts her head down on the desk, hoping to catch some sleep before the curly-headed girl arrives. Nuveah hopes to get a quick five-minute nap before the basketball player arrives. She is not up for conversation but she doesn't want to ignore Azzi when she does show up for class, so Nuveah is hoping that resting her eyes will help her from being as irritated.

Azzi eagerly approached the soccer player as she entered the lecture hall, Giving Nuveah a light tap on the back of her neck. Azzi's smile disappeared as she saw Nuveah's weary face staring up at her.

“When’s the last time you've been to sleep?” Azzi asks softly.

“Like two days ago, I think,” Nuveah lies while laying her head on Azzi’s shoulder.

 In reality, it’s been three going on four days, but Nuveah didn't want the girl to worry, so she figured a little white lie wouldn't hurt.

“You need to smoke,” Azzi says

“Can't I wanna be sharp for the rest of the playoffs” Nuveah says, tiredly rubbing her eyes.

“But you aren't. You know you can call me if you can’t sleep, right? Azzi says softly.

“I can't do that; you need your rest, too,” Nuveah responds.

“I mean it, Nu. Call me anytime, okay?” Azzi responds just as Professor Flanagan begins her lecture.

Nuveah laid on Azzi’s shoulder, half asleep, the whole 45 minutes of class; it was the closest she had gotten to sleep in the last couple of days. Azzi would have a light dusting of pink across her cheeks if she weren't so concerned for Nuveah and her lack of sleep. She thinks the girl is too hard on herself, an act that causes major anxiety for Nuveah, which in turn causes her to stay up.

Nuveah's movements are sluggish and halted after class. She was not the first person to leave the classroom; in fact, she was one of the last few to leave. To ensure the girl does not fall, Azzi trails closely behind her.

“Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?” Azzi questions 

“Nah, I should be good,” Nuveah mumbles.

“Let me know if you have trouble falling asleep,” Azzi says

“Az, I can't do that to you,” Nuveah says.

"Yes, you can. I made my mind up already, and I'm preparing to stay up if you need me to, so like I said, call me if you can't sleep, okay?” Azzi says once more, cutting her eyes over at Nuveah.

"Okay,” Nuveah mutters, relenting.

“I’ll see you later,” Azzi says, hugging Nuveah.

After departing, from Azzi, Nuveah slowly walks back to her Dorm. Hopefully, she can take a quick nap. Her eyes burn, and she's hallucinating a bit because she could've sworn she heard her roommate Gia talking when she first came in, but after looking around the dorm apartment, she's not even there.

Laying down in her bed, Nuveah prays she can catch a few hours of sleep. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't fall asleep, but resting her eyes feels excellent; the burning, aching feeling coming from them has finally stopped. Hearing the front door slam, Nuveah sat up in a panic. Hopefully, it’s Gia.

Nuveah walks towards the living room, checking to see if Gia or Aniyah came in. Checking the dorm apartment, Nuveah notices that it is empty. 

“I need to go the fuck to sleep,” Nuveah mumbles. Making her way back to her room and lying down.

Closing her eyes, Nuveah rests her eyes once 

more. She's unsure how much time has passed but hears the door slam again.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nuveah grumbles as she gets out of bed.

"Wassup,” Gia says, eyeing the girl before her.

“Nothing; I just heard the door slam earlier, and I'm trying to make sure I'm not going insane,” Nuveah says.

"Dude, you look like shit. When's the last time you've been to sleep?” Gia Questions.

“I don't know; I think it's been three or four days,” Nuveah said, rubbing her face.

“You need to get some sleep, Nu,” Gia says softly. 

“Don’t you think I fucking know? Don't be dumb, Gia; I would if I could,” Nuveah snaps.

“My bad,” Gia mumbles.

Nuveah instantly feels awful; she didn't mean to yell at her best friend. She's just so irritated and tired of people telling her she needs to get some sleep. If she could, Nuveah would be knocked out right now. 

“I’m sorry, G. I didn't mean to snap at you. I‘m just really irritable, and I'm kinda hallucinating, and I'm so tired, but I just can’t go to sleep, and it's fucking sucks,” Nuveah explains.

“It's okay, I get it, Pook. I just want the best for you,” Gia says, smiling widely.

 “Okay, you wanna do anything?” Nuveah says, changing the subject.

“I mean, we can play Back 4 Blood; I heard it's pretty good,” Gia said 

“I’m down,” Nuveah says, yawning.

The duo ends up playing the zombie game for three hours. Azzi stayed on Nuveah's mind throughout the entire time. She wonders what the girl is doing—if she ate or was busy—and honestly, Nuveah wishes she was there with the girl right now.

Nuveah knows Azzi said she can call her whenever, but she’s nervous. What if Azzi is only being nice because they have class together? Nuveah refuses to let her feelings sabotage their budding friendship. 

“What’s on your mind, dude?” Gia asks, looking over at Nuveah.

“Azzi,” Nuveah shamelessly admits.

"You down bad for real," Gia teasingly remarks.

“I know,” Nuveah groans, running her hand down her face 

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Gia questions.

“You sound like MoMo. Speaking of young bul, lemme call her. I wonder if she gonna go food shopping for us. We don't got shit, bro.” Nuveah says she is trying to change the subject 

“Don't try to change the subject, Pook,” Gia says, rolling her eyes.

“I ain’t ever gonna tell her; you and Niya know this,” Nuveah responds.

  “Wish you would. Shawty may like you,” Gia said.

“I can't risk it.” Nuveah quietly says.  

 Personally, I think she likes you, so you should go for it. Gia says, glancing over at Nuveah.

“Sometimes I think so, but Azzi is flirty with friends, so I genuinely can’t tell if she's just playing or not, so I’m not saying shit,” Nuveah explains.

“Write her notes,” Gia suggests

“What you mean?” Nuveah inquired, slightly confused.

“Be her secret admirer or some shit,'' Gia says.

“GG, that’s smart as fuck; I'm mad as shit I didn’t think of it, but ion think imma do it,” Nuveah admits.

“Why?” Gia asks, rolling her eyes

Nuveah didn't respond; she had no reason other than being anxious about the outcome, and she knew that was not a good enough reason not to write the anonymous love notes.

“Bro, why?” Gia asks once more, only to be met with silence.

Gia quickly realizes that she’ll have to use alternative methods to motivate Nuveah to write to Azzi.

"Yo, bro, I just peeped some shit,” Gia said, looking over at Nuveah.

“Wassup?” Nuveah asks, not looking away from the screen.

“You low-key a bitch,” Gia says.

“You sound dumb right now,” Nuveah says 

"Yeah, you are; that’s why you don’t wanna write her,” Gia says.

“You know I ain’t no bitch,” Nuveah says, sucking her teeth.

“Matter fact, shawty pretty as shit; I know niggas and bitches are gonna try to talk to her if they don't already, so don't write her letters and let one of them scoop her up. Ya, ass would be sick,” Gia says, laughing slightly.

"Aight, stop dick-eating; I know what you doing, and imma do it. Just chill.” Nuveah pleads.

Gia smirked, glad that she and Nuveah were both from the Philadelphia area. She’s unsure if that would’ve worked if Nuveah was from anywhere else.

“Azzi knows my handwriting, so I must type it, Nuveah says.

“Aight, you need help with what you gonna write?” Gia asks 

“Nah, I should be good. But put Mortal Kombat on; I wanna whoop your ass real quick,” Nuveah says, smirking.

“You stay talking shit” Gia says, sucking her teeth.

The duo played the fighting game for the next hour and a half, with Nuveah winning 75% of the matches.

“Aight, I’m done; I’m starving,” Gia complains, rubbing her stomach.

"Yeah, me too, where you wanna eat?” Nuveah questions.

“I’m feening for some Chick-fil-A; are you cool with 

that pook?” Gia asks  

"Yeah, that’s cool, but can we doordash that shit? Ion feel like leaving,” Nuveah admits.

Her body feels so tired; Nuveah’s not even sure if she can move from this spot on the couch. Even though she feels extremely exhausted, Nuveah’s mind can’t stop her mind from racing. She wasn’t even thinking of any in particular, but she couldn’t stop thinking. Honestly, Nuveah feels like she is going insane.

“Aight, the food will be here in like 30–35 minutes. Imma play some Fortnite. You wanna play?” Gia asks.

“Nah, imma watch,” Nuveah says.

"Aight,” Gia says, turning on the game.

Nuveah watches Gia win the first two rounds before there is a knock on the door.

“I'll get it,” Gia says, standing up.

"Wassup, Azzi,” Gia says once she opens the door.

“Azzi” Nuveah repeats sitting up.

Nuveah anxiously rubs her sweaty hands on her pants. She isn’t prepared for Azzi to come over, which makes her incredibly nervous. Being as sleep-deprived as she is, Nuveah isn’t sure she can contain her feelings for the girl now.

“Sike, gotcha dickhead. Look at ya face. I wish I took a picture of that shit.” Gia says while bringing in the food. 

“That shit was not funny. I should smack you.” Nuveah grumbles angrily.

“Ah ha, that was for earlier,” Gia says, handing Nuveah her food.

Nuveah stayed silent. She couldn’t blame Gia; she had yelled at her for basically no reason earlier. So Nuveah just munched on her tenders and scrolled through her phone.

“You tryna watch some shit?” Gia asks, looking over at Nuveah.

“Like?” Nuveah asks.

“Hunter X Hunter cool?” Gia asks.

"Yeah,” Nuveah responds.

Gia smiles to herself as she turns on the anime. It's only 8 p.m., and she's hoping that around 10, she can convince Nuveah to fall asleep. Gia is absolutely concerned for her best friend. As long as she's known Nuveah, the girl has always had issues with insomnia, but the soccer player has never been up for four days straight before.

After two hours of watching the anime, Gia decides it's time to call it a night. She's not tired yet, but she knows Nuveah needs the rest, even if she doesn't go to sleep. She's worried about her eyes; she needs to rest them.

“I’m getting tired,” Gia fake yawned.

“Aight, my eyes are starting to burn again, so imma try to go to sleep; I'm scared to be up for another day,” Nuveah admits softly while standing up.

“I love you, Pook; try to get some rest,” Gia says softly.

“I love you too, G,” Nuveah mumbles, walking into her room and lying down.

Nuveah stared at the clock in annoyance after trying to fall asleep for the last 4 hours. The clock 1:30 AM, the time stared back at her like it was taunting her. Azzi’s words ran through her mind again; surely Nuveah couldn't call her right now. 

Even though Azzi gave her the go-ahead to call her at any point, no matter the time, she couldn't bring herself to do so. In Nuveah's opinion, she felt as if she would be incredibly selfish. Even though Nuveah thought Azzi’s voice would help lull her into a peaceful sleep, closing her eyes, Nuveah tried to fall asleep again but was unsuccessful in her efforts. 

“Fuck it,” Nuveah mumbles, calling Azzi.

Azzi stayed up way past her bedtime today; it’s a Friday, so she knows she can do so and not completely regret it in the morning. She hopes Nuveah calls her soon or at all. Azzi wants to be here for the girl; hopefully, Nuveah will let her. Drifting off slightly, Azzi is startled by the sound of a Facetime call coming through.  

"Hello,” Azzi answers.

Nuveah’s breath caught in her throat. Azzi looks so beautiful, her glasses perched on her nose. A pink bonnet covered her thick, curly hair. She looks gorgeous. It makes Nuveah feel somewhat self-conscious; Azzi is a queen, and Nuveah isn’t sure if she is good enough for the basketball player, which is another reason for her hesitation in revealing her feelings for Azzi.

“Did you hear me?” Azzi says, bringing Nuveah out of her thoughts.

“Nah, can you repeat it?” Nuveah says, clearing her throat.

“I asked if you were okay,” Azzi repeats.

“Yeah, I’m good; it’s cool that I call, right?” Nuveah asks.

“Yes, I told you earlier that it was okay,” Azzi says her tone is light and teasing.

"Right, uh, I ain’t gonna hold you ion know what to talk about,” Nuveah admits this while rubbing the back of her neck.

“We can talk about anything; it doesn’t matter to me,” Azzi says, smiling. 

“What did you eat?” Nuveah questions cringing.

The conversation feels awkward, and the silence is deafening; she’s unsure what to say or do. Nuveah is starting to regret calling Azzi, feeling as though she’s bothering the girl.

“Nu, where did you go just now?” Azzi says this once again, bringing Nuveah out of her head.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Nuveah quietly asks.

“No, of course not, I promise; I just want to talk to you until you fall asleep,” Azzi quietly explains.

“My bad for being so awkward,” Nuveah mumbles.

“You are sleep-deprived, Nu. I’m not expecting you to be able to keep up a full-on conversation. I promise everything is okay,” Azzi says, smiling. 

“I really appreciate you, Az,” Nuveah says, also smiling.

“Aw, I appreciate you too,”  Azzi answers, her smile growing wider.

“How was your day?” Nuveah questions. 

“Good, what did you do today?” Azzi inquiries

“It was okay; I just played video games, you? Nuveah says, glancing at the camera.

"I went to the gym and then worked on my shooting and just relaxed,” Azzi mindlessly explains.

“Sounds eventful; glad you had a good day,”  Nuveah grins.

 “Got any plans this weekend?” Azzi cordially asks.

"Tomorrow, no, but I have a 1 pm game on Sunday against Villanova,” Nuveah explains. 

“On campus?” Azzi questions.

"Yeah,” Nuveah said, closing her eyes.

The shooting guard makes a mental note of the game and time, knowing that she won’t miss the game.

“Do you wanna hear about practice? Maybe it could help you fall asleep,” Azzi offers.

Nuveah opens one eye and glances at the screen, making eye contact with the basketball player.

Of course, she always wants to hear Azzi talk, knowing that Azzi’s soothing voice could help lull her to sleep.

“Yeah, of course, Nuveah said, closing her eyes.

"Okay, so Geno isn't as bad as Paige said he was gonna be, he yelled, of course. But it wasn't awful; overall, it was a pretty good practice,” explains Azzi.

“Mhm, sounds good,” Nuveah responds, half asleep.

"Nu, you can go to sleep,” Azzi says, removing her glasses.

“But I'm listening to you,” Nuveah says, pouting slightly.

“You’ve been up for two days; I wasn’t expecting you to stay up,” Azzi says.

"Yeah,” Nuveah mumbles out.

“Go to sleep, Nu,” Azzi softly states.

“Are you leaving?” Nuveah asks softly.

“When you go to sleep, I will,” Azzi says 

“Okay, keep talking,” Nuveah says after about five minutes.

“I did pretty good in practice; Nika is a monster on defense-,” Azzi trails off.

Hearing the soft snores coming from the other end of the phone, Azzi smiles to herself, feeling extremely proud that she helped Nuveah fall asleep. 

“Good night, pretty girl,” Azzi mutters softly, hanging up.

Nuveah slept most of Saturday, only waking to use the bathroom and eat. On Sunday, she woke up feeling refreshed at around eight a.m. After showering and putting on her practice gear, the soccer player walked to the kitchen to make herself a protein shake.

“Yo, wassup, sleeping beauty,” Gia says, coming out of her bedroom.

"Wassup dude,”  Nuveah says, finishing up her shake.

“I’m glad you finally got some sleep,” Gia says, smiling.

“Me too; I was going insane and getting sick as fuck.” Nuveah admits.

“True, don’t tire yourself. I know how important this game is to you, but don’t do too much.”  Gia advises.

“I’m not; I just have to win today,” Nuveah says.

Gia can see the hunger in Nuveah’s eyes. She knows how important this game is to her and how determined she is to win. 

"Aight, bro, I’ll see you later at the game,” Gia says, dapping up Nuveah.

After finishing her shake, Nuveah leaves and walks the 10 minutes over to the Riazza Performance Center to see if she can get a ball and some cones to warm up with some shooting and dribbling skills. 

"Waasup, coach,” Nuveah says

“Hey, kid, I just got done setting up the pitch for you,” Susan says.

“Thanks; I'll see you soon,” Nuveah responds, smiling.

Susan will never be impressed by the raw talent that oozes out of the girl. Her dedication to the sport is so impressive that it doesn’t matter the weather; Nuveah will be practicing and working on her craft, rain, snow, or shine. The girl has the potential to be one of the greats; Nuveah just has to believe it herself.    

The weather is still warm for the middle of October, so Nuveah strips out of her hoodie and begins her drills, weaving in and out of the cone Nuveah kicks the ball and it flies into the back of the net. She does these drills a couple more times, sinking the ball in the back of the net from every position on the soccer field. 

Pausing for a bit, Nuveah down some water and scrolls through her phone. It’s already 11:45, and seeing that the game is only an hour and fifteen minutes away, Nuveah is becoming anxious. Nervous butterflies began to erupt inside of her stomach. Her team desperately needs to win, and Nuveah is determined for them to do so. 

“Dude,” Her teammate Hailey said, running over.

“Wassup dude,” Nuveah says.

“How long have you been out here?” Hailey asks in astonishment.

“I think like two hours,” Nuveah said while drinking more water. 

“Damn,” Hailey mutters.

“You wanna do some drills with me?” Nuveah asks

“As much as I would love to, coach asked me to come and get you so we can regroup before the game,” Hailey explains.

“Aight,” Nuveah says as she gathers the equipment.

“You can leave that there. We still gotta warm up, remember?” Hailey says, laughing.

“Oh right,” Nuveah says, embarrassed.

As the duo walks towards the Performance Center, Villanova’s team gets off their bus, and their players immediately start glaring hard at the pair. Confused, Hailey looks over at Nuveah and sees her grimacing at the players.

“You good?” Hailey questions concern in her voice.

“Yeah, I just don’t fuck with them no more,” Nuveah grumbles. 

“No more?” Hailey asks, her eyebrow raised. 

“Let’s not get into that shit right now; it’s a long story,” Nuveah complains, picking up the pace. 

Hailey, confused, trails behind the girl back to their coach and the rest of their team.  

The team gets geared up and ready for the game; Nuveah has a chip on her shoulder, which all her teammates have picked up on. The usually awkward girl isn’t cracking jokes or laughing; she’s sitting, listening to music, and ignoring the world around her.  

Soon, it’s time for the game, and Nuveah will be more than locked in. This is a must-win for Nuveah; this is a chance for her to prove herself.

The game starts very physical; the entire Villanova team is trying their hardest to injure Nuveah. Azzi nervously watches as Nuveah goes down again, this time even slower to get up.

“Why are they going after her so fucking hard? They need to chill.” Azzi nervously says.

“They got beef,” Gia vaguely answers.

“Why?” Azzi questions.

“Cause she chose Uconn over them, they heavily tried to recruit her too. She gave a verbal yes, but obviously, she didn't go”, Gia reveals.

“Well shit,” Azzi mutters 

Nuveah is growing extremely frustrated. Her defender is actively trying to break her ankles, which is tiring. Nuveah hopes she can get a free kick or a goal soon. The score is 0-0; she believes her performance today is not good enough for her standards.

Finally, Nuveah got fouled badly enough that she earned a free kick. Walking up to the ball, Nuveah nervously wipes her sweaty hands on her shorts. Noticing Azzi after looking around and making eye contact with the basketball player, Nuveah gained brand new confidence. Twenty seconds are left in the game, and Nuveah is determined not to let the game go into OT. Nuveah aims the ball to go left, but at the last second, she kicks to the right, which confuses the goalkeeper; the ball hits the back of the net, causing the entire stadium to break into loud cheers. The Villanova players hung their heads down in defeat, getting beaten by the player they needed and wanted the most.

Nuveah honestly didn’t care about any of the cheers and chants of victory. The only person’s cheer she cares about here is Azzi’s. It makes her feel prideful and happy to see the girl cheering loudly for her.

After the game, Nuveah didn’t want to party or go for drinks; she just wanted to write this letter to Azzi and sleep. 

“Nu-Nu, I'm so fucking proud of you,” Azzi said, hugging Nuveah tightly.

“ Thank you, Az. How did you get back here?” Nuveah questions, not wanting to let go.

“I got my ways,” Azzi says, smirking. 

Hugging Azzi again, Nuveah ushers the girl out quickly. She showers and gets dressed in under thirty minutes so she can go home and write the secret admirer letter. Azzi showed up to a game that Nuveah talked about to her once, making her feel special. Hurrying up and leaving, Nuveah returns to her dorm in record time. She sits down at her computer and begins typing the short message.

After finishing, Nuveah makes her way to Azzi’s dorm, slipping the note under the door and ringing the doorbell. She runs like hell so no one from the basketball team can catch her in the act. 

Azzi got home feeling disappointed. She wanted to go out and celebrate with Nuveah, but after leaving the locker room, she waited for the girl, only to realize she had disappeared and hadn’t responded to a single text from Azzi.

Hearing frantic buzzing, Azzi opens the front door, only to see no one there but a letter. Confused, Azzi sees that it is addressed to her, so she opens it and begins to read. 

                                       Dear Azzi,

        You are the most beautiful girl I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. You are the most generous and selfless person I have  ever met. There’s so much more for me to say, but I don't think I can begin describe how wonderful you are. You simply light up every room you walk into. And you put a smile on everyone’s face, especially mine.

                    Love, Your Secret Admirer, 

Azzi read the letter repeatedly, wishing she knew who this was. It’s sweet, and it makes her feel so special. However, she wouldn’t put aside her feelings for Nuveah; this letter is sweet, and all but the shooting guard is determined to make the soccer player hers. For now, she would just appreciate the letter and not focus too much on who it’s from.

[taahko]

hey man! i don't know who mike flannigan is, but i'm not sure anyone deserves violence for being bad at writing or adapting tales or whatever. it might be time to step away from the keyboard for a little bit and have a glass of juice, perhaps sit in the sunshine. maybe pet an animal or something. experience joy for a little bit y'know

it actually makes me very joyful to wish that mike flanagan, multi time showrunner for netflix and notorious hack, gets hit by a semi for taking one of the most famous depictions of lesbians in 20th century horror and making them sisters instead. among other things

[juniperhillpatient]

because the tragedy of a ghost story should never be lost in the scariness or depravity - not that you can’t include gore & jump scares & whatever else. but if you’re telling a ghost story what you’re really telling is a story of inescapable fate & that is such an oppressive horror that closes in on you in a way that’s different than other types of stories. that is the heart of the tragic horror of a good ghost story.

this line from Lake Mungo sums it up so well - “I feel like something bad is going to happen. I feel like something bad has already happened. It hasn’t reached me yet but it’s on its way.”

& the opening paragraph of the Haunting is famous but unfortunately so many people don’t really understand it in my opinion. don’t get me wrong I actually enjoy the Mike Flanagan show but it fails on some fundamental levels to convey the source material & hot take but that’s ok it’s just telling its own story with inspiration from the book but the book - but the book is a masterpiece in expressing the isolating horror of a fate you can’t escape & the horrifying idea that we all die alone. Everyone knows the first sentence of that opening paragraph but it’s not just about insanity, it’s about crushing loneliness & an inescapable fate in a place outside of time -

“Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more..”

Now THAT’s scary.

[thatoneperson747]

Hi

So while procrastinating writing the fic I'm working on, I decided it was time for me to read the Royal Ranger. I only have book one, and I've had it for about a year now, but I never read even the first page. I've heard stuff throughout the fandom about it, but I've tried to stay away from royal ranger specific posts in order to not spoil the book for me.

If you also haven't read it yet and want to avoid spoilers, stop reading now. You've been warned.

Here's the things I knew before reading:

Will has a beard now. This is very controversial.

Alyss dies. She was burned to death. Also very controversial.

Horace and Cassie have a daughter named Maddie. Maddie becomes Will's apprentice.

And that's about it.

I decided that since the Royal Ranger was so hit or miss for the community, I'd document my thoughts on it (as a personal record, if you will) and see how my opinions change, if they change at all. Feel free to laugh at me if I make predictions and they end up being completely wrong lol

I've read the first seven chapters, and here are the main thoughts I have right now.

1. Is Will now just Halt? When he was first being described during the scene with Henry Wheeler, I dead ass thought Flanagan was talking about Halt. I mean, Will is grey already? Like, fully grey. He's described as having a "steel-grey beard." Not grey and brown, just grey. Halt???

2. Alyss' death fit her character well, but why did she have to die? Keep in mind, I was never the biggest fan of Alyss - I thought a character as interesting as a diplomat should have more personality than just "the main character's girlfriend" - but come on? We barely got to see them married. Idk man. I feel like her death would be better justified if they had actually like. been together longer? 10/10 for writing her death though, saving a poor child from death seems really in character for her, especially considering that's pretty much what Baron Arald did for the ward kids (he didn't die for it but still, he saved them from a childhood of neglect and almost certain death). I feel like it's a great wrap to her story, although I wish her story was longer.

3. Crowley was done dirty. What the actual f u c k Flanagan? The Corps Commander, the man, myth, and legend gets a paragraph to explain his death. It's such a lamely written death too? Crowley, a ranger, who was probably in peak health, just nopes out one night. At least he was smiling..? And maybe it's the fact that TEY is my favorite part of the series so far, but Crowley deserved way better than that shit. Also I'm surprised that I managed to not know about Crowley's death before this?? I actually cried reading it. He was such a precious little man in TEY, how could you do this Flanagan???

4. Maddie is a bit of a brat. Not even a bit, she kinda just is. To be fair, Cassie was that way sometimes as well, but Maddie just seems... I don't know, too much of a 'I-do-what-I-want-and-you-can't-stop-me' kinda person, but in a bad way??? Like that one kid in school who would never listen to authority figures and got everyone in trouble all the time? I hope she mellows out because she could be a great character, I think. It's said she takes after her mom, but I'd like to see her act like Horace too.

5. Gilan. Just Gilan. What?? I never liked his relationship with Jenny much, he seems quite a bit too old for her (at least 5 years, most likely quite a bit more since Halt had a few years between Gilan and Will), but he's so relentless in asking her to marry him? Huh??

And also, BOLD of Flanagan to assume Gilan would be hesitant about letting a girl into the corps. This man has traveled with Cassie. He's traveled with Lydia from Brotherband. He knows women are capable. I mentioned not liking his and Jenny's relationship, but like. he even respects her. She's a business woman, she owns her own restaurant. No one can possibly convince me that Gilan doesn't drink his respect-women juice DAILY. It feels out of character for him.

6. Poor Duncan. That's the end of the sentence.

7. Those guards are hysterical. Ah, yes, let's just casually not mention or try to stop the princess sneaking in and out of the castle even though this could end really really badly. Perfect logic.

And yeah that's all I got right now. I'm very excited to see how my opinions so far change! I'll document them here too in case anyone cares. Feel free to reblog with your own RR opinions and the like! I'd love to see what you guys think of my takes lol