#anyway I somewhat forgive myself for that terrible time ; as I found my community with digis on discord / tumblr ; a real answer

[devoutpriest]

he is singing hallejuah on the guitar.

his silver cross is lain on his skin, under his purple button hem of his shirt.

[multifandom--imagine]

(requested by anon)

➽ How did you meet

• Your meeting was particularly unusual. If it was at the wrong time it is quite questionable. • You met in a hospital, the day of the death of your grandmother, your second mother, as well as "guardian angel".

• The doctors contacted you because you were one of the closest relatives and after communicating your death, they asked you to come and give a final greeting.

• And it was that day that you met him, before entering her room, you noticed an old man who was absorbed in watching your grandmother's helpless body, caressing her head.

• You had never seen that man, so untidy you doubted he could be acquaintance of your grandmother (lady of the order and cleaning).

• But you didn't pay much attention to his presence, not even when it came out of the room, giving you the chance to enter.

• In a blink of an eye he disappeared into the corridor, leaving behind a heavy smell of tobacco and alcohol.

• You met him again at your grandmother's funeral. It was a rainy and cold day, like your mood, bitter and empty.

• You looked at the coffin that was swallowed by the earth, without noticing the presence of the old man next to you.

• It was his scruffy stink that made you wake up from your depressive state.

• "My God, does it seem like smoking time?" you said at the edge of the nervous.

• The man gave you a quick glance, settling the dusty rustic jacket and taking the consummate cigarette between his fingers he blew the heavy smoke in his face and giggling he said to you "I'm not afraid of cancer"

• This sentence sent you on a rampage.

• "Well the person who was burying under the earth has been cut short by a cancer, so if you want to keep on being a asshole, you can take your fetid jacket and go fuck yourself" you whispered through clenched teeth and threateningly approached the figure of man.

• The man smiled almost amused at your words ... ah silly human, if only you had known who you were against.

• "I remembered your grandmother, very kind and faithful, surely you didn't take a shit from that good woman" he ventured to comment on the man. • "My grandmother never told me about you, probably because people like you didn't count for shit for her"

• Ouch! Someone has just touched a sore point in Czernobog's soul.

• Without thinking too much about it, the man took a last plentiful shot at a cigarette, then took the butt and threw it on your shoes and without saying anything else left, leaving you in the cemetery all alone.

• THAT’S A BINGO! EH EH EH

• However the story does not end here.

• "The most lovable man in the world" came back a few days at the bar where you worked as a waitress.

• He had ordered several drinks and well ... he was drunk to say the least.

• He was so drunk that he almost fought with another client, threatening to smash his testicles with his hammer.

• ...... ok?

• It is pointless to say that a couple of punches and that lout, half Russian and half American, lay on the floor of your senseless bar.

• Your boss was going to leave the body on the street, but as much as you hated that piece of shit, you would never have had the courage to let him make that end so cruel, it wasn't what your grandmother had taught you.

• so you decided to drag it to your apartment. You lived practically above the bar where you worked.

• But obviously you threw it on the sofa and then you took refuge in the room, collapsing exhausted from sleep.

• The next morning you woke up and going to the kitchen you realized that your apartment smelled terribly of alcohol.

• so you opened all the windows to let the air change, making Czernobog wake with a start.

• "What the fuck..." he said through gritted teeth and then stared at you in shock for a few seconds "We didn't fuck, right?" he asked you in no uncertain terms.

• You looked at him unkempt, shaking his head.

• The expression of the man seemed disappointed for a few seconds, only to shrug, adding a sustained “Luckily".

• whatta.piece.of.cosmic.shit.

• "Anyway you are in my apartment and I do not accept that you scrunch everything, then lift your ass and go and wash, as it should" you said in a stern tone indicating the bathroom.

• With a lazy line the ancient god went to the bathroom to wash as requested.

• When he came out of the bathroom he smelled decidedly clean even though the aroma of tobacco did not give up.

• his gaze settled on your butt, because you had your shoulders busy preparing breakfast.

• He would probably have thrown you a slap on the ass if he wasn't reported for sexual harassment.

• You turned towards him sipping a cup of coffee and schairendoti the voice you said: "Anyway you should thank me, I saved your ass. If it wasn't for me, my boss would have thrown you on the roadside"

• "Thanks..." he murmured too proudly.

• "Sorry? I didn't hear you right"

• "I said thank you, fuck"

• "If you know my grandmother, you will already know my name"

• "(y/n)" he said without blinking "You have a nice shit name" he added, as he looked out the window, lighting a cigarette.

• "Then what's your name, asshole?"

•"Czernobog"

•"You have a shitty name than mine"

➽ Skinship n’ cuddles

• Old marpion

• As I said before, he would be very tempted to give you some pats on the ass, but in the early days of your relationship Czernobog prefers to stay on his own.

• Only when the situation becomes more intimate then the old god brings out the beast in him.

• Your first kiss was one of the most intense.

• You were probably entertaining with your usual pungent conversations, but then a long exchange of glances was enough to completely reverse the situation.

• Czernobog got up from the sofa and advancing quickly towards you, he took you by the hips and slammed you gently against the wall.

• in less than a second your lips attacked in a fierce languid struggle.Your tongues sought each other out, creating sensual snaps and perverse verses.

• Probably the old god would grab your face with one hand, to subdue you even more and with a predatory gesture would bite your lower lip until a small trickle of blood came out.

• needless to say, you slapped him in the face.

•despite the somewhat ferocious contacts, Czernobog also has its tender side.

•Especially when it's sad. A striking example is the death of Zorya.

•You found him on the couch, dark and with a cigarette in his hand. He did not utter a word and his eyes were empty.

•But when he felt your delicate hand tracing the outline of his hollow and wrinkled face, he couldn't help but let his face fall on your chest, letting bitter tears fall on his cheeks.

•Probably the night would end with you two embracing on the sofa, while the arms of the old god wrapped your soft and young body, so fragile and precious, while its nostrils intoxicated with the white perfume of your living skin.

• Your nights of passions are certainly the most brutal in the world. Trapped clothes, broken bed, neighbors complaining about the constant mess. In short, we understood each other.

•Surely his favorite position is the doggy style or simply squeeze yourself between his body and the wall.

• your ass will turn purple for continuous spanking

➽ Arguments

• Arguing with Czernobog is a daily and frequent thing.

• This god is practically born to discuss and be melodramatic and the war obviously accentuates all the components.

• surely your most serious and heavy quarrel was when you found out he was a god. You have almost destroyed your home as well as your relationship.

• probably, you would try to stay calm, but instead he would immediately start to fight with cruel and angry tones.

• you would probably both end up throwing the house objects at you and cursing each other.

• Even if cruel Czernobog would never dare raise his hands with you or beat you, he would never forgive him. Rather it insults you heavily, it still doesn't do you any honor.

• In the end, you would be chasing him from home in the worst cases and he wouldn't show up for days and weeks. He would probably show himself around as if nothing had happened.

• Rare times he apologizes, put your soul in peace

➽ Dates

• Let's be clear, Czernobog hates the city as much as the new gods.

• Probably on special occasions it would lead you to take some walks in the countryside or in the woods, and although you suck, he would insist on hunting animals or telling you how he killed cows.

• Often it takes you to some bar or pub, nothing fancy, after all it is Czernobog.

• He probably will never introduce you to other gods, he would be too afraid to put you in danger.

• Sometimes you spend whole afternoons at home playing chess or drafts, or watching a few films on netflix together.

➽ Some of your conversations

you: "So why did you and my grandmother know each other?"

Czern: "Well you know your grandmother has Slavic origins"

you: "And ... then?"

Czern: "I am one of the many gods who prayed, and probably after her death, I lost the only faithful fuck I had left"

you: "You what ?!"

Czern: "What the fuck are you yelling at, woman? I'm the fucking god of death so what?"

***

Czern: "Zorya is dead"

you: "I'm sorry ..."

Czern: "Do you want to know what the fucking funny thing is?"

you: "..."

Czern: "is that a fucking god of death shouldn't give a fuck about who dies or not, we will all sooner or later, woman. Yet although I am aware that if the new gods don't take you away from me, it will be my own hammer that kills you, I think I would go mad more than I am already seeing you dead, rather I'd rather kill myself "

#12

– Taiga 🐯

[asktemmie-frisk]

The First Steps (Lost and Found Arc)

As the door was closed, everyone in the room, except the good doctor of course, got nervous. They had no idea how they were going to break the news to this human about how they were doing. She could sense the tension, so she offered to let them choose who would start.

"So, who would like to go first?" Asked Dr. Lillian.

No one said anything.

"Okay, then. Who would like to state what their expectations are in group therapy?"

Asriel and Frisk's ears flared up in interest; Chara made an intrigued expression; Asgore and Toriel had a startled look.

"Umm...maybe I could go first?" Asriel asked, raising his hand nervously.

"Very well. What is your name, sir?"

"Um...my name is Asriel."

"Good. We're off to a good start. Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"Okay. As everyone else knows, my name is Asriel Dreemurr, I'm the prince of all monsterkind, and I'm in group therapy."

"Why do you suppose you're in group therapy, your majesty?"

Asriel gave a surprised expression to the doctor. He didn't know she would be so respectful of his status so immediately.

"Yes, well...I believe...it's because...for a long time, I wasn't even a monster. In fact, I was really just a flower."

"Ah, I see. That's rather interesting. Would you like to talk a little about your time as a flower, Asriel?"

Dr. Lillian Crenshaw got ready to take notes with a pencil and a notepad.

"Okay. Give me a second."

"Of course, your majesty. You may take as much time as you need to prepare."

Asriel took in a few deep breaths to get ready to speak about his sins as a flower. He was nervous, but he was ready to get it out.

"Wait." Chara intervened.

"Maybe...excuse me, madam. I think you should know what happened before Asriel became a flower."

"Oh, I see. There was more to the story. Very well. Let's go to before such an experience."

"Thank you, madam. Asriel, you ready? I can't tell this without you."

Asriel took in one last breath and faced Chara.

"Yeah. We're ready." Asriel said with a slightly distorted voice.

"Oh. Flowey's getting involved, too?"

"Yeah. We are."

"Okay. Let's do this. Asriel and Flowey, you start with how it was before I fell."

"Right. Before I even met Chara, I was a pretty lonely kid. And it wasn't just because I was a boss monster. It was also because I was the prince of monsters. I was gonna inherit the throne to the entire kingdom, and everyone knew it. That's why most of them wanted nothing to do with me. They were worried that if they picked on me, I could get them in trouble with mom and dad. I didn't wanna be feared, I just wanted a friend, but I never got one for a long time. Then Chara showed up."

"When I fell into the mountain, Asriel found me and took me home to mom and dad. You know, these two older boss monsters? Anyway, these two are named Asgore and Toriel. Asriel is their son, and they were the royal family of monsters. They took me in as their own."

"When Chara and I first met, I was so happy to finally have a friend, and a human one, no less! She was just scared, but she warmed up to mom, dad and I eventually. After spending time with us, we got close enough to consider Chara as a member of our family. Then came that one day when Chara and I accidentally poisoned dad with buttercups. We were trying to make mom proud by making dad a butterscotch pie, but it didn't work. We mistook buttercups for cups OF butter, and he got really sick."

"I tried to laugh it off, trying to hide how terrible I felt for accidentally poisoning dad, but they all knew how I really felt. Later that night, Asriel saw me break down about the whole incident. I just cried so much, he came to me and comforted me. I swear, Asriel's a great big brother. I just wished I could've been a better little sister. And a better daughter."

"What? Chara, why would you say that?" Asked Asgore.

"Becuase I poisoned you by accident, and I felt really guilty about it, but I tried to laugh it off to keep you from seeing how bad I really felt about it. You got sick, and it was my fault. I mean, how was I supposed to know that buttercups were dangerous? They're beautiful, and they look innocent, but they're beyond toxic? How was I supposed to know that beforehand?"

Suddenly, Chara could feel the control over her body leaving her grasp, confirming her parents were taking over. Thanks to Flowey's natural ability to sense a soul, Asriel could feel Charon and Laura's presence becoming known.

"Chara, sweetie, it's okay. You wouldn't have done it if you knew beforehand what buttercups could do." Charon said, comforting his daughter.

"Yes, sweetheart. All your father and I did was tell you to keep away from the flowers." Laura said through Chara.

"We never told you which ones were dangerous, especially not buttercups."

Charon and Laura gave back control to their daughter. She shook her head a little to get her bearings back.

"Whew! Okay. I'm back." She said.

"Mom, dad, it's fine. I forgive you. I know you were just trying to protect me, and you didn't know if I was allergic to flowers or something else, LIKE buttercups or something."

Chara's parents mentally thanked Chara for forgiving them. Then Dr. Lillian got somewhat intrigued.

"That was unexpected." She said.

"Oh, yeah. My parents are dead, and I absorbed their souls. Now I can be with them forever. Sorry I didn't tell you."

"Interesting. Do you perhaps have the ability to speak to, or otherwise communicate, with your deceased relatives?"

"Yes. They can hear everything I say and hear, see everything that I see, experience everything as I do. Would you like to meet them?"

"Why, I dare say I would."

Chara let her parents out of her soul long enough for them to meet the good doctor, who was surprised that Chara was telling the truth.

"Um...hello there. May I ask of your names, please?"

"Y-yes. My name is Charon." The ghost monster said, approaching the doctor with a pacified hand.

"And I am Laura. We are Chara's birth parents." Laura said, standing next to her daughter.

"Ah. I see. My apologies. This is the first time I have had supernatural patients."

"No need to apologize. We are just here with our daughter. Speaking of whom, I think we'll be going back to her now."

Charon and Laura walked into their daughter, who absorbed them again within a matter of seconds. Chara got aroused for a moment, but she shrugged off her feelings.

"Excuse me, Chara, is it? Are you okay?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm fine." Chara said, recoiling from the resurgence of power that left her for a brief moment.

"It's just that whenever I absorb souls, it gives me a pleasurable feeling. It also leaves a taste in my mouth. Depending on the personality of the soul being absorbed, it can either taste good or bad. Those were my parents, and they taste and feel amazing."

"Oh. I see. You are also a hybrid. Just like Frisk. I was told long ago that he was a hybrid between monster and human, you see."

"Oh. Alright. Well, I guess I don't have to be scared at this point."

"Of course not. This is a safe place where you are able to speak of your secrets without persecution. Those who fail, or refuse, to respect that are not welcome in this room at this time."

"Good. Good. Now I can tell you everything we need to say. Anyway, I accidentally poisoned dad, and I felt really bad about it. I tried to hide it, but I couldn't. My family knew the truth.

Later on, I asked if I would be able to go back to the surface. They solemnly said no, but they told me how they became trapped down there in the first place."

"I think I can explain from this point." Said Asgore.

"Toriel and I told Chara that we were trapped in Mount Ebott due to the humans that employed magicians to incarcerate us all. Seven magicians erected the barrier with every last ounce of magic they had within them. With seven human souls, we would be able to destroy the barrier completely. Even if not seven human souls, at least such an equivalency. However, even if you counted every last monster in the underground, we only had enough for the equvalency of ONE human soul in power and maybe one or two monsters."

"Exactly. Upon telling me that, alongside remembering how I poisoned dad, I came up with a plan. The plan was to have Asriel absorb my soul so he could go to the surface, and retrieve six human souls. Six was enough to break the barrier, but I didn't care. My REAL plan was to use Asriel not just to free the monsters, but to kill every last human on the face of the earth. It took some time to try and convince Asriel to go through with it. You remember, Rei?"

Asriel was about to comment that his name is Asriel and not "Rei", but he decided to shrug it off just this once.

"Yeah. I remember. I gotta admit, you sounded so convincing, considering the fact that I didn't want you to die for us. You told me that all we needed were six souls."

"Yeah. Then you cried a little and tried to wuss out on me. I accused you of being a crybaby, and you agreed to do my plan anyway, despite how much you didn't want to."

Chara started to tear up a little. Dr. Lillian noticed and offered her some tissues, which she promptly took about 8.

"After that, I set my plan in motion. I got some buttercups, and I poisoned myself. I took enough to kill a grown man at the time. I was BEYOND sick. It was so painful to suffer from how incredibly toxic those buttercups were. I should've never even gotten close to them."

"Excuse me, doctor, may I have the tissue box, please?"

Dr. Lillian passed the box over to Asriel in a manner that seemed to say "knock yourself out". He started crying as he and Flowey remembered what happened.

"I remember the way Chara looked in her bed. She looked horrible. She was pale in some parts of her face, her eyes looked sunken and bloodshot. It was like she wasn't Chara anymore. We all started crying over her. Dad tried to stay strong for her, telling her to 'stay determined'. She really was the future of monsters and humans, even if she didn't want to admit it. I lost my mettle and tried to get Chara to wake up. I told her I didn't like the plan anymore. You won't believe how she felt after that."

"I think she would, Asriel. Death by buttercup is fucking  torture. It was beyond painful to get so incredibly sick. I felt so weak while I just lied there in bed. All I could do was listen to you guys crying over my body. Then, I made the final wish: to take me to see the golden flowers of my village. I knew you guys couldn't grant me my final wish, but I didn't care. It was just a farce to 'give you a motive' to go up to the surface. Then shortly after I made that wish, I stopped breathing and moving. I just...I...I died. As I left my corpse, I saw Asriel, and absorbed me. The second he finished absorbing my soul, I took the reigns on his body."

"I was scared, and I could sense Chara's anxiety and anger too, but I just kept telling myself what I came to the surface for. I kept saying 'six human souls. That's all we need.' I kept replaying the message until Chara got to her village."

"When I got to my so-called 'home', I saw the villagers there. They were shocked that a monster came to the surface with a dead child in their arms. Then I got angry. VERY angry. I remembered every last one of their faces. To be honest, I was surprised, shocked actually, that they saw my dead body in their arms, and they wanted to attack Asriel for it. They thought Asriel killed me! I was like 'WHAT THE FUCK! You guys didn't care about me when I was alive, and now all you want is to avenge my death?!' I swear, they were all just hypocritical animals! They were ready to murder Asriel in cold blood. As I set my body down by those flowers, I turned to them, so angry at how they treated me, I was ready to slaughter every last human in that village. I couldn't control myself anymore. Asriel could tell I was hurting from them and angry at them all. He could feel my rage."

"I can't think of a worse time to man up and grow a pair. Before Chara could use our full power, I forced her to relent and snatched back control. She was beyond angry, and all of it got aimed at me at that moment. She was upset because she couldn't kill them because I refused to let her kill them all. Then came the barrage of weaponry. Boy, did they do a number on me. I got shot, I got stabbed, some of them threw these rocks at me, I got burned a bit by some torches. They launched everything they had at me. I asked them why, and they said it was because I 'killed Chara'. I should've said Chara killed herself, but that probably would've pissed them off even more. Why? Perhaps they would've thought I lied or something. Anyway, after that siege, I grabbed Chara's body and went back home. To the mountain."

"I was so angry at Asriel. I wanted him to give me back control after he took it away. It wasn't just for my plan anymore. It was for those monsters hurting my brother. I wanted them to reap what they had sown. They threw me away like a piece of garbage, and then they decided that wasn't good enough for them, so they try and murder my own brother?! I had enough of them all. I wanted to force them to pay for their wrongdoings. But Asriel wouldn't let me. He was the only voice of reason and I shut him out like it was nothing."

Chara blew her nose and wiped her tears with some of the tissues she got.

"After Asriel carried me back home, I asked him why he brought me back home. He told me he could sense my anger and hatred at some point, but the reason he gave me was a wakeup call. He said it was because I deserved to be with people who actually care about me. After that, I forgave Asriel for ruining the plan I made. Asriel was right to hold back. If he let me kill those humans, we would've started another, more devastating war against humanity, and I don't think anyone that was human would've survived. That's why when we finally succumbed to our injuries, I told him I loved him one last time before we both died."

"I suppose I should've died happy that Chara loved me as my sister until the end, but that day just REFUSES to leave my memories and I alone."

Asriel started crying softly and blew his nose, letting his tears flow unchecked.

"I blamed myself for that for a long time. I know Chara technically did have a role in it, but I still thought it was my fault."

"Yeah. To be honest, I thought it was all my fault because after all that happened, all the monsters fell into despair again. And the worst part is...I can't take any of it back."

"I...I'm so sorry that happened to you both." Dr. Lillian said, lending her heart out to them both.

"I know I can't take away your pain, but I want you two to know that what you did was simply you two trying to do something good. I mean, sure, it didn't work out, but you just wanted to help your people. Never forget that."

Chara and Asriel were surprised. There they were, talking to a human that didn't judge them for what they did, and it was like she heard it all before. They started breaking down a little.

"Thank you for your kindness, ma'am. Thank you so much!" Asriel said before he started wailing.

"You're welcome. If I may be so bold as to ask one of you, how does knowing what you've done feel in hindsight?"

"It's terrifying." Chara said with her voice breaking.

"It's so terrifying because I realized all the consequences of what I've done. My parents are divorced, my brother died and turned into a soulless flower, I restarted an interspecies war, and the worst part is the whole world could've gotten destroyed by Talrok, and all of it was my fault! I should've never taken that first step. If I didn't, none of this would've happened!"

Chara and Asriel broke down in front of Frisk, the doctor and their parents. Frisk, Asgore, and Dr. Lillian looked at them in sympathy. Toriel had annoyed expression and left. She silently closed the door, and went outside. Then, Asgore and the doctor held out their arms, hoping to give the two a shoulder to cry on.

They noticed, and Asriel held onto Dr. Lillian, and Chara desperately clung to Asgore, both of them burying their faces in their chests as they cried. Frisk joined in, and stretched his dog ears long enough to encompass everybody in the hug. He purred affectionately as if to reassure Chara that she would still be loved.

"Chara, Asriel, you don't have to feel alone or guilty anymore. We're here for you." Frisk said, with one eye becoming pink, and the other turning cyan.

Chara and Asriel saw Frisk's eyes, and smiled tearfully at him.

"Thank you, Frisk. I love you." Chara said, starting to control herself.

"I love you, too."

Frisk let them all go and Chara went to him and hugged him. She didn't want to let go at all. She smiled at Frisk, feeling her determination flowing back into her.

"Wow. I...I feel...better? Like a weight was just lifted from my shoulders. Dr. Crenshaw, thank you."

The good doctor simply smiled at Chara placcidly.

"Now, who else would like to go?"

Asgore let go of Chara, ready to start.

"If it is no serious problem, perhaps I could go next?" He asked humbly.

"Of course, sir. Your name is King Asgore, correct?"

"Why, yes. Yes, it is."

"Excellent. If you would be so kind as to tell your story, it would be most important for us all."

"Very well. Let me just say beforehand that I am sorry that you had to hear this."

Everyone sat back down as Asgore got ready to tell his story. He was feeling nervous as well, alongside a little guilty.

[girlreviewsgirlmovies]

Sierra Burgess is a Loser

This movie could have been so much better, and that hurts more than if it was just bad. 

It opens with Sierra getting ready for the day, which is honestly so common in these types of movies it could be a trope. She has a moment where she compliments herself in the mirror in this bit which I think was well-placed seeing what comes next: we do see a single hint that maybe she’s not as confident as she’s about to seem for the next bit of the movie. We head off to school with her and meet the Plastics-- I know, I know, but that’s what I’m calling them for now, because it has that cliche trio of alpha bitch and two worker bees that is so darn common in teen movies these days. Veronica is shown to target Sierra right from the start, but then we come to Sierra and the movie’s first big “could have been good but wasn’t” aspect comes up.

Sierra is shown as quite confident in the face of Veronica’s bullying. She puts on a face like it doesn’t hurt her. I loved that! I found it so refreshing because so many movies in this genre show unpopular people defining themselves by the popular people. Despite that first interaction and what happens later, this bit of the movie establishes Sierra as not one of those characters. Veronica is an annoyance in her life, but not one that she ever seems actively hurt by. I loved this... right up until we get told by the movie later on that Sierra is not that person. Of course, just like Veronica, she can have her game-face, she can pretend things don’t hurt her... but the movie isn’t nearly as clear about what’s real for Sierra as it should be. They needed to pick a direction, and they didn’t. They could have shown Sierra confident in the face of her bullies but breaking down after, but nothing like this ever happens.

And this is a huge problem in light of how the movie progresses. Veronica gives a guy Sierra’s number, they text all night, they start to like each other, they call... I can only just buy this in light of the person Sierra was shown to be, even despite that first little bit of the movie, but only because we didn’t see the conversation and I told myself, “Okay, Sierra must have not realized he thought he was texting someone in particular right away.” Then she figures out it’s Veronica he’s texting, and things go a little wonky.

Sierra enlists Veronica to help her, and I think this is the strongest aspect of the movie. Actually, this middle bit with Veronica is almost worth the pain of the bad bits. I won’t talk about the arc in detail, but I will just say that there’s nothing that’s done wrong. There are places it could have gone for tell don’t show, and it didn’t. Veronica and Sierra start to have a wonderful friendship while tricking this guy and it’s adorable. They both make each other better. The only character development in the whole movie rests in these bits. If it weren’t for the romantic window dressing of the situation that pretends to be the movie’s focus, this could’ve been an awesome movie just based around how a situation like this brought these two girls together.

There’s a lot of little things in this bit that are so good to me, mostly between the girls. Veronica’s home life was given the exact treatment I think it needed, and just un-cliche enough that it felt fresh (she’s not the first popular girl from a broken home but the trend does tend towards rich popular kids, especially since Mean Girls), and her mother is shown as living vicariously through her daughters’ youth in a way that really criticizes “beauty before brains” mindset as coming from parents raising their kids wrong. I dunno, I just really think this middle bit is the strongest part of the movie. 

Eventually, Sierra starts calling Veronica “Ronnie”, it’s very sweet. They take lots of selfies, confess things to each other... this is the kind of content I really come to girly movies for, not the romance, not really.

And then we come to another problematic aspect of the movie: the kiss scene. I’ll be honest, I fast-forwarded through this bit because it was just so painful to watch. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but the catfishing came to a level where Veronica was faking a date with Sierra in the wings giving her lines, there’s a few good moments for their friendship where Veronica says that Jamie would like her Sierra and that Sierra’s presence in her life has made her finally consider her own future properly and says that Sierra should be a singer... and eventually Jamie leans in for a kiss. Instead of dealing with the catfishing problem-- we all knew that wasn’t going to happen-- the lines of consent are crossed and Ronnie asks Jamie to close his eyes, and Sierra kisses him. He tries to open them, and she shoves her hand on his face and tells him to keep them closed-- this was very uncomfortable and violent imo. Girl on guy consent-crossing is not any better than the opposite. I should have seen it coming with the catfish theme and the way things were progressing but I was not ready for such a violation from our “hero”. This is the first bit where I felt I was losing my suspension of disbelief regarding her being the “hero” of this story. Yes, even after all the catfishing, I was still with it. The circumstances were strange, but I could see this happening... you know how a lie gets bigger and bigger as you maintain it, that’s how I felt Sierra had progressed into this catfishing, and that was somewhat forgivable. I was on board for redemption for the bad things she was doing, but here I thought, “No. No way.”

Then we come to this party, Sierra gets drunk blah blah, Ronnie is told not to hang out with her blah blah... there’s this bit where Ronnie’s college boyfriend who she’s been studying to impress shows up. I definetly make a squeaking noise of excitement when he said, “I saw your post” and she just lit up and said “The Hamlet one?” Despite the fact her studying was driven out of impressing him, honestly I think that line sounded a whole lot like she was proud of herself for making that progress, that this is something she’s started to enjoy. Her character development is A+ here. Anyways, the guy takes advantage of her naiivity to sleep with her and dumps her over DM the next day, and Ronnie goes to Sierra for comfort (awww!)...

Eventually, we come to the third-act misunderstanding that everyone saw coming where the situation comes to a head. Well, I say everyone saw coming: everyone saw there would be a third-act misunderstanding, but the direction it takes manages to be both out of nowhere and unsurprising at the same time. The homecoming game (I assume) happens, Sierra is there with marching band, Veronica is here to be a cheerleader, and Jamie is there as the opposing team’s quarterback. Jamie obviously kisses Veronica when he sees her, she pushes him away but only after Sierra who was watching unbeknownst to them pushes Jamie away...

... and Sierra, who has shown very little cruel tendencies up to this point (besides the whole consent issue), decides to humiliate Veronica in front of everyone by hacking into her social media and showing the whole school Veronica got broken up with over DM. Nevermind the fact this would not be the social murder the movie portrays it as-- just humiliating for Veronica but I don’t think anyone else would have noticed... in the fallout, the fact that Veronica and Sierra have been playing with him is revealed to Jamie, and Veronica has this bit where she says to Sierra “you think I’m mean but you should look in a mirror” which seems to come from an earlier form of the script or something because it’s basically a rewording of Mean Girls’ “You Cady are a mean girl” and no movie attempting that theme will ever be as striking as the masterwork so they should stop trying. Besides the rip-offiness of it, it just doesn’t fit. The only mean thing Sierra has really done is the catfishing and the bad touch kiss, and she’s never really shown to hate Veronica for being mean and at this point they’ve been legitimate friends for half the movie. Where did Sierra’s cruelty come from?? Why is it getting this response? This scene just doesn’t fit the movie at all. It was like I’d switched channels into Mean Girls 2 or something, but I hadn’t. 

And then she gets home and snaps at her parents for being beautiful in a move that has no previous indication throughout the movie she feels this way. This movie needs to know the difference between showing and telling, because in the climax, it tells us one thing about the characters even though it’s shown us another for 50 minutes or so. 

And then comes my next complaint: Sierra writes her song (which was good, don’t get me wrong, if its use was terrible) and everyone suddenly goes “oh poor sierra she deserves forgiveness and a happy ending because her life is just so hard because she’s so ugly” (seriously, the song is about how she’s not conventionally beautiful and how hard that is for her and everyone just forgives her for playing with their lives), and gets off scott free. It wasn’t even a proper apology! Jamie takes her to the prom because Veronica explains on her behalf, and roll credits. 

There are a few other miscellaneous complaints-- we have a gay black best friend (yeah, couldn’t just chose one stereotypical minority type of best friend for their one-dimensional support character!), for some reason Stanford is implied to not be interested in a white legacy girl who has near perfect SAT scores and parents with money to pay her tuition (like, I know maybe she wouldn’t get a scholarship with her amount of community involvement but seriously her dad is famous and a Stanford graduate, she just needs the minimal submission requirement and she’d fucking get in!) And I was also not impressed by the whole “why does everyone think I’m a lesbian” joke. Like... it just... wasn’t funny... and they hit it three or four times. She never does anything lesbian-y and I was sitting here like, ��Are you saying lesbians are unattractive girls?”???  A few other details here and there in dialogue and the like were weaker too.

I did laugh so hard I spilled a glass of water over when she signed her name is “Shit Pizza” though. So there’s that. 

There were so many individual aspects of this movie that I just loved, but as a whole it just didn’t work together. In my opinion, the whole movie needed refocusing to go from passable to actually good. Instead of the third-act misunderstanding going the way it did, I think the movie could have been saved by shifting the focus. Use the catfishing as a tool to connect the two girls and write a friendship plot. Let Sierra face the consequences of playing around with Jamie and have him not be interested in her because she hurt him, and let the real prize be the friendship she made along the way. And remove the whole “Sierra betrays Ronnie” bit because it came out of nowhere, have it be a more realistic confrontation between them for the kiss that doesn’t involve such an uncharacteristic behaviour, remove the Mean Girls shit, and then end on Ronnie and Sierra going stag together to homecoming. Or maybe turn it into a romance between them, because god knows we need more LGBTQA+ romances in film. Doing something that like that and doing another pass of the script for making sure what they show matches up with what they tell could have saved this movie.

But they didn’t, so it hurts to know that they almost made a good story but fell just short of doing anything truly noteworthy. Overall, the content was basically passable, but there were some problematic points that I think didn’t belong and the ending fell flat. 

[manicanhaus]

Three poems and a short story

 ‘The first time I spoke to her she was listening to Laura Marling. She’s destroyed Laura Marling for me forever. I’ve never even really been a big fan of Laura Marling. I like her music and all, but she’s from the wrong era. You know how it is.’

‘But who is she?’

‘I don’t think it’s relevant somehow.’

‘How can it not be relevant?’

‘Well, I laid eyes on her, and I knew she was everything I’d wanted to meet for my whole life. She’s french.’

‘What does her nationality have to do with it?’

‘What doesn’t her nationality have to do with it?’

‘Who’s to say.’

‘Well, I learnt of her vegetarianism in the breath directly preceding my learning of the existence of her boyfriend, who is apparently on the scene.’

‘Oh.’

‘He’s spanish. She wants to stay in australia at the conclusion of her one year contract that she is currently undertaking. I say, having a spanish boyfriend is useless to her.’

‘You’re probably right.’

‘At the end of the day though, she’s too attractive for me anyway. I could never live up to that expectation. And she seems taller than me, just because she’s slim and brunette and beautiful, but, she’s actually only my height. I’ve never seen her in high heeled shoes, which is good, because I do not find these terribly becoming on women, particularly slim, brunette, beautiful women who are roughly my height but seem taller. High heeled shoes are the scourge of the male gender. Well, the short members of the male gender anyway, and we all know what Bob Dylan says about thin men.’

‘If women choose to wear high heeled shoes surely this is their right.’

‘Yes. But, they blame the male fashion designers for the subsequent health issues that in time arise.’

‘Ah yes.’

‘Yes. I presume you have seen A Current Affair on at least one occasion. But hopefully not Today Tonight.’

‘As a matter of fact, that’s correct.’

‘Yes. Say ……. ’

I trailed off there. This is the story of some love affair. It involves Bob Dylan in some way, and Laura Marling, and Bonnie Prince Billy (in all of his guises), and Scout Niblett, and Joanna Newsom, and Leonard Cohen, and SoKo, and Serge Gainsbourg, and a small city to the north of france that I have never caught the name of due to barriers to effective communication that arise due to the accent of some love of mine. Some love of my life. I also don’t think she wants me to know the name of her city. She has her reasons and all are well grounded. No one wants to be stalked and subsequently strung up by one recently freed from some mental institution. It was only a minimum security facility anyway. I could have quite easily made my escape at any hour of my choosing, but I did my time, because that’s just the type of man I am.

I forced myself upon my true love. Having waited my whole life to find some french girl, any french girl, to lay eyes upon one in such a perfect environment meant that I had to find a way to break in with her. I didn’t see this opportunity for two weeks or so. Even then, I sat down beside her, and she had head phones on, and she was reluctant to take these out. When I kept on talking, she somewhat felt obliged to take said head phones out. She advised me of whom she was listening to. I missed this due to the accent that I had always longed to hear spoken directly to me. Later on, I learned that she had been listening to Laura Marling. ‘Yes, I know Laura Marling.’ At the end of the day though, the best relationships are forged from situations where communication is rendered impossible …. due to any number of reasons.

I don’t approve of the technological device known as the ‘i-pod’ due to a moral high ground. However, my love is in possession of said technological device. Anything my love chooses to do, I forgive. After discovering she was a fan of some kind of Laura Marling, I knew that she had some kind of potential for not only being french but also being worthy of my attentions. I asked her what other artists she was fond of. Perhaps because she was aware that there was a language barrier present, rather than speaking the names of the artists that she was fond of, she showed me their names on her technological device. I like to remember that the first she showed to me was Bob Dylan, but it could just be that this is the first that I recall because the previous few were of no consequence or relevance. It was at that point that I asked her if she was fond of Leonard Cohen, to which she replied, yes, but I have none of his songs on my technological device. She then showed me Serge Gainsbourg’s name, and I knew she was the one. But, everyone in france likes Serge Gainsbourg – I learnt this from her. Well, everyone likes Serge Gainsbourg in france, except some. Her choice of Bob Dylan album was none too impressive, being ‘the essential’, or whatever it is called, but it worked for me. The essential of Bob Dylan is every track that he has ever laid down on record and then some others. This love of mine taught me a great deal about Serge Gainsbourg. Serge Gainsbourg is a demigod in france. I am the most important french artist in france who isn’t french.

I feel more french than I have ever felt australian, but I do not feel french. I am not french. I am some kind of a refugee born to the wrong homeland. Australia isn’t a homeland. Australia is a convict settlement where only those the likes of me can prosper, and if you call my existence prospering, I question your definition. All I ever wanted from life was a french girl and I found said french girl and she was unattainable. As a friend of mine said, someone who I thought may have been an alternative to my love, ‘what’s she with a spanish guy for? That’s not very exotic.’ This girl is also french and vegetarian, and I am taller than this girl. She somewhat has a Melanie Pain look to her. If Melanie Pain offered me her hand in marriage I would gladly accept it. If Emilie Simon married me and subsequently I decided to take her surname, I would be known as Simon Simon. If Emilie Simon married me and subsequently decided to take my first name as her surname, she would not be obliged, through the traditional values of marriage, to change her name. I am tall enough for Melanie Pain but not Emilie Simon, and at this moment in time I am in need of a slice of bread.

It took eight months for me to hear my love say my name. She heard me say her name at least once every day that I laid eyes upon her. This gesture of mine was always less significant than hers promised to be. She said my name indirectly. We were speaking of Emilie Simon, and she said Emilie Simon. I like the sound of my name as proffered by the french and only the french. The following day my love directly said my name, and she said it in a variation of the french way, which was delightful to my ears. ‘Hi Simon, it’s Mona. I can’t come to school today. I’m sick. Please tell Veronique and the french teachers that I won’t be at school. Okay. Bye.’ The beginning of what Mona said is correct. At some point I lost it. I still have the message. It will never be deleted. If ever I need to hear a french woman say my name, that message will always be available to me. If ever I need to hear my love say my name, that message will always be available to me. It was a blessing that I wasn’t around to receive said voice mail message, and it was a blessing that I didn’t see her that day.

I recently heard an anecdote from a girl who was in a brief relationship of about two weeks with a french guy. He had come to melbourne for work and had taken to winning the affections of as many melbourne women as possible. He had some kind of pre-existing lover in france, apparently. So this girl I know, she received a telephone call one night from a french girl, who subsequently took to abusing her for some time. If a french girl ever took to abusing me, I would be happy to say, please continue all night long my dear. If I could, I would spend the rest of my life speaking to a french girl. If one had to choose by whom to be abused, it would be by a french girl – hands down.

Until recently, I somewhat wondered if women found the accent of frenchmen as appealing as men find the accent of frenchwomen. I had been thinking for some time that I only know frenchwomen, and not frenchmen, but then I remembered that my hairdresser is a frenchman. He’s lost his accent though. Anyway, so I met a few french guys at a function that I was at, and one in particular, upon hearing him speak, I thought, yes, that is a nice accent – that would melt the heart of any free thinking, able bodied woman. It melt the heart of me.

‘So what became of this love of yours?’

‘What?’

‘That love of yore, that you’ve been discussing at length.’

‘Oh, her? I don’t know. I never saw her again after the fourteenth day of december. I marked this date on my calendar in august. Call me a morose rapscallion if you must, but I like to know when my end of time is to come to pass.’

‘I don’t call you anything.’

‘And that’s lucky for you, because this could mean nothing for you but hardship and strife.’

‘But, how’s that?’

‘Well, you don’t need to worry do you? If you did, you would have seen the wrath, but not understood the cause.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes.’

This love and I, we spent many good times together, not enough by my reckoning, but too much by hers. Of her, there remained a hope; of her, all hope was lost. The timing of our meeting was highly dubious. The timing seemed too perfect to put into words. I had recently lost something that could never be replaced. This love would not have replaced what was lost, and no love could ever have lived alongside what was lost. Upon learning of my love’s unattainability, I subsequently fell into a state of heartache such as has never been experienced by the likes of me. I drew on that heartache for inspiration for all it was worth, and still do. I also subsequently bid my god one final adieu. Any god that mocks me to the extent that my god mocks me is not worth my time and attentions, of which I proffered little to begin with, by my reckonings. I advised him of this decision, and to this date I still take it upon myself to smile wryly to the heavens on occasion when situations arise of the utter scorn that only he is capable of and of which only he can conceive of. When the day of judgement befalls us, I am in the direst of all situations. God acknowledges the petty atheist. He even acknowledges the petty agnostic, who is even pettier than the petty atheist. This god, in his wisdom, forgives all of the sinners against his parchments. The only soul that this god does not forgive is he who believes in his existence, but refuses him. I accept this lot that is self inflicted, and I welcome my day of judgement. I’ll see you in hell, you old rapscallion.

But earlier this evening, when I was doing the dishes, and I had the SYN TV program on, that I believe is called ‘the 1700’, on my television set, and Laura Marling’s ‘Rambling Man’ came on, I looked to the heavens, with my wry smile, and I said, ‘what a god damned joke’. ‘Rambling Man’ is a great song, but it will never soothe me as it should. It will always bring to my eyes the face of my love, whom I have never seen smile, and whom I have never heard laugh, but of whom I have heard her say my name twice, once indirectly in person and once directly over the telephone. The mockery is ever present, and this god and I share the same sense of humour. Our long running joke stands, and my love did not know SoKo until I introduced them to each other.  

HIS EXCUSES – Pelham

I don’t care for his excuses,

And I don’t care for his sour, stinking breath.

And it tastes like the sour butter of crepes,

And the butter oozes down his face – I am disgusted.

She’s an exquisite thing, and she’s not mine,

And I see you’re wearing the jewels I bought.

And there’s a child on the stair, and it’s Christmas,

And the people ask me what it is, and, I don’t know.

THIS COULD BE LOVE – Pelham

And I am not here to correct you,

And just now, my leg brushed against yours.

This could be love …. or other,

Other it is, as I bid you a regular adieu.

You recognise my foot fall and you flee,

And you’re sickly because we embraced.

No response, no second word,

Ah yes, and why, then, do you sell yourself?

OUR LIPS MET – Pelham

Our lips met, but only in a dream state,

We are rebellious, but then, it only makes sense.

We run when necessary. We’re meek when called for,

And in spite of this we fumble over ourselves.

An update (!) …. unexpected,

I wonder if she recognised me.

The sound of a woman’s laughter,

And henceforth comes the tempest.