#or the fact that I don't wanna accept how much damage my abuser did

[cold--carnage]

aight fr tho I think they're right because it once again feels unsafe like everywhere all the time

[couriersiccs]

finished alex hera's slenderverse docuseries and i just want to.. i don't know, collect my thoughts and share them, because the slenderverse had been a huge part of my emotional abuse-ridden adolescence and it was as much a saving grace as it was yet another source of trauma. and it's been really difficult to reconcile that! so here's a long fuckin chunk of text if you wanna read a personal memoir that's mostly just for me ngl.

I can't promise this will be coherent, and it won't have a place in the History of The Verse because it's just my personal experience, but yeah. Wow.

First off, the documentary was beautiful. Well-crafted, impeccably researched, and just very informative and enjoyable to watch overall. Kudos to Alex for the time, passion, and attention to detail that they put into it, because it's exactly what the topic deserves.

Ten years ago, I was an eighteen-year-old just finishing my first year of art school. I was out of my parents house, understanding for the first time that my upbringing was abusive, damaging, and actually pretty shitty. Not "the shittiest," which allowed my parents (specifically my mother, enabled by my father) to downplay it for so long. But it left me deeply scarred. It stunted my development in ways I've only, in recent years, been able to untangle - my ability to recognize and process emotions, my self-worth, how to understand what I need, the value of my wellbeing and basic health, the ways I'm capable of hurting people in my desperate, clawing need to avoid abandonment. Just to name a few key areas, off the top of my head.

I knew none of this when I discovered Slenderman and Marble Hornets when I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. Eventually, I discovered the fandom on Tumblr, and, most importantly, formed the Skype-based chatroom with my friends, known as Hornetcon.

Literally even just reading the name of it, my throat twists up and tears start to form. When I was in high school, as my mom's abuse got worse and worse, my social connections floundered. Nobody knew what I was really going through, because I didn't even know what I was going through. All I knew was that I felt bad about myself because I only ever seemed to make my mom upset. I couldn't understand how wrong it was of her to treat me the way she did until I had distance.

I became isolated. I stopped seeing the friends I'd had that were close to me. The friends I had at school were my friends, but we didn't hang out very often outside of school hours. I loved them and still cherish the fact that they enjoyed my company at all, but I didn't connect with them. My time was mostly spent on my laptop, hiding from whatever batshit alcoholic mood my mom was in that night, and I joined Tumblr at the behest of my school friends.

When Hornetcon started, I was a couple of days away from turning sixteen. I made very good friends there. I met people I connected with, for the very first time as a developing teenager, on a deep, understanding, accepting level. We bonded over the series, excitedly rapid-fire spammed the chat whenever there was an update, joked about shipping, shared fic and fanart, talked about queerness and transness and polyamory and everything my Good White Catholic Suburbs had shielded me from. The Internet was the gateway for my development, now, since I wasn't going to get it in "real life."

(That's probably it's own form of stunted development, but it was the best tool available to me at the time. shit was dire, folks.)

I got close to lot of people there. I loved talking with them, meeting up on tinychat, catching up with them when I got home from school, happily staying up WAY too late just to chat with friends in different timezones. I wasn't being shown, outside of that chatroom, that I was valuable as a person. That my interests were valuable. That people could find me interesting, funny, and even cute. Those were revolutionary concepts to me.

Alex talked about the pedestal the Slenderverse Creators stood on, and I remember how easily we put them there.

Some of them were in our chatroom! We got to talk with them, ask them questions, shoot the shit like fellow creative minds. We spoke with them like we were all on equal ground, but in reality, they really weren't. We showered them with love, with praise, with reassurances when they were having a bad day. We were all friends on Facebook, which signified a level of trust. We got to know them, or thought we did. Started closer, private friendships with some of them.

In retrospect, it's kind of hilarious that the most predatory of them frequented the chat most often. It isn't, but looking back, it's like...... of fucking course they did. Some were cool! Some were very fucking uncool!

I couldn't tell the difference. I didn't even know my own mother was harming me - how was I supposed to know that a friend I trusted, who was part of my refuge from her, was harming me, too? Harming my friends, who only came forward once I did?

How was I supposed to know that when, while visiting the Creators friends I'd made for New Year's 2016, I spent an evening drunkenly cuddling with one who was also a predator? The only reason nothing more happened is because I was unwillingly partnered (complicated for unrelated reasons. lmfao.) at the time, and he decided not to target me.

It wasn't limited to the Creators, though. Non-creators friends I made in that chatroom hurt me, too. When I think of the Slenderverse as a painful part of my life, I include them. And, most importantly, I include myself.

I hurt people, through no intention of hurting them, because I was scared and in pain and had no idea how to communicate with another human being. I had no idea how to handle relationships, how to express myself in my friendships with others. The time I was supposed to have spent developing those skills, I was instead being emotionally slingshotted back and forth by my parents, the people who were supposed to have set an example for me to follow and support me when I made mistakes. I tried to search for that support elsewhere, and I found people who were better, people who were worse, and I only knew the difference after it was too late.

I can only say that I was not capable of being a better person when I wish I had been. It is the only way I've been able to forgive myself and move on with my life, even if I still taste guilt and embarrassment in the back of my throat at the memories. If I were to ever speak to the people I hurt again, on a real, raw emotional level, I wouldn't expect them to forgive me based on "well, see, I was right fucked up and didn't really know it yet."

Thinking about the Slenderverse makes me think about the messy, reactive, depressed, and frankly manipulative person I have been. Being a "people pleaser" is, in my experience, a version of an emotional manipulator. Not for particularly nefarious reasons, but because when someone reached out to offer to me love, a desperate little girl with claws reached back. I didn't mean to hurt people, I didn't abuse a power structure to get what I wanted out of them. I was just utterly graceless with how I handled the emotional wellbeing of both myself and anyone who tried to show any care for me.

Another thing I've been working on is challenging my pattern of "black and white" thinking. Some people really were innocent, and I really did hurt them because I was messy. Some people may have started out innocent, but along the way I realized they wanted what I couldn't give, and I had to let them go. Some people may not have intended to hurt me, but did. Some people may truly have never valued me as a person, and only acted as if they did.

It's all grey. Kind of in a fog, really. I have few clear memories of that time, and I'm grateful that they are mostly good ones. Trying to dig them up by going back through my blog feels like performing open heart surgery on myself. I think it's worth revisiting, even though it feels like retreading over ground that is not a place of honor, where no highly esteemed deed is commemorated, where nothing of value lies.

I don't regularly speak to anyone from that era of my life. Even the friends that I love dearly, that helped me through some of my worst moments. It's like there's ooze all over my thoughts of the Slenderverse, due to the actions of both others and myself, and it's all over anything or anyone tangentially related to it. It isn't their fault. I just needed to move on, get some distance from it. Maybe now's a good time to revisit it, but I don't think I get to just walk back into anyone's life like I never quietly excused myself. I don't even think they see it that way. We all just have our own lives.

But I'm thinking of them, a lot. And I wish I could show them how much better I'm doing beyond the occasional social media post. I'm not living in a utopia or anything, but I'm sure as fuck doing better than I was before. I'm learning how to not hurt people, especially not like I used to, and how to apologize and make things right when I do.

I'm still kinda fucked up and probably always will be, in some ways. But I talk kinder to myself, now. I try to value my wellbeing as often as I can. I point out to myself when something should be communicated. I have fewer, but more solid, sources of support.

I'm doing my best out here. I hope they are, too. All of them.

It would have been funny to see Hornetcon mentioned in the doc. It wasn't a doc about the fans, though, so I get it. But it would've been funny to tell my perspective of the Verse at that point. And I was in it, technically! Behind the camera during the clips they used of the WhisperedFaith BTS video, and one or two of the Shamhouse! I had a place in the Verse solely due to the compassionate, if tumultuous, friendships that were built and later left to decay. I never created a Slenderseries, but I created fanworks, memes, co-created a big fangroup chatroom (though it wasn't an entirely successful or able-to-be-inclusive chatroom, all things considered. imagine a discord server of like a hundred people, dozens active every day, with only one channel. god the days of skype were dark.) I supported, I visited, I loved, I cared deeply. But my experience was only a microcosm of the big picture, and that was already captured quite well. I know where my place in the artistic collaboration was, however extraneous.

And I hope Tharol is doing okay. I was mean to him when he messaged me last, in like 2015, in a furious attempt to rid my life of that Slenderverse-tainted ooze. I wish I could tell him, along with so many others, that I'm sorry.

alright that's all i got, no editing no beta we die like jeff, send post

[sunsetkerr]

I don't think you should feel like you can't write for Sam during this trial. Did she do it? I don't know. Is it okay if she did it? No. I just don't see someone pleading 'not guilty' if they don't think they can win a trial, especially someone seen as a celebrity. If she did in fact racially abuse the officer, then it might have been better for her to accept the charges and plead guilty. Girlie is gonna get dragged through the mud for the next year until the trial all while trying to recover from an ACL. I freaking hope with my whole heart that she's innocent and that we'll actually get to see Sam Kerr play football again. Long story short, if you wanna write for her, write for her. There's always going to be people with issues with her, even before this trial came to light. But it's about you and what you're comfortable with and in the light of the law, she's innocent until proven guilty.

thank you for sending this in my love, I completely agree with you.

it's really really hard, because what she's been accused of, although we don't know the specifics of what was said, is not okay. racism is never okay, and I dont support that shit- it's inexcusable.

I'm hoping it was something blown out of proportion, because sam is a woman of colour- she is aware of how damaging those kinds of comments are. so im hoping she didn't.

it is looking like majority of people still want me to write for her (and I do too!), so I think that's what I'll be doing. you're completely right, people are always going to have a problem with any celebrity that people write for on here.

I may focus more on writing for other woso girls for now and have sam on the back burner (but still write for her) but until she's proven guilty, I'm hoping that she's innocent.

thank you for sending this in xx so much love

[chierry]

hi chierry! i’m currently reading khr and i wanna talk about it with someone but why do you think tyl-tsuna confided his plans to hibari when he didn’t even tell gokudera and yamamoto? i have always found this super interesting so i wanted to ask your opinion too 🙈 (i wish he had seen more of everyone ten-years-later 😭😭😭, khr has so much potential it really pains me that it ended the way it did)

Hi anon!

My personal theory on that is that Hibari was the perfect combination of several factors that other guardians might have, but not all at once.

1. The number one reason I think is that Hibari is simply insane in the best way possible. If Yamamoto or Gokudera heard Tsuna saying he would fake his own death the plan simply would have gotten scrapped because they are NOT accepting this. And if they DID, I don't doubt that the guilt of seeinf everyone grieve Tsuna would make them REAAAALY hurt. I don't think they would reveal anything, but simply they wouldn't be able to take it without a lot of damage. Hibari tho? I am not discarting the friendship he has cultivated with everyone in the future nor his feelings, but he would take it better than Yammu/Goku.

2. Hibari is REALLY hard to get information about. Both meta-wise and canon-wise. This plan could NOT work if anyone else other than Tsuna, Irie and Hibari knew about it. Everyone in the Vongola has a semblance of a past and family to serve as possible hostages in exchange for information, but Hibari? We legit don't know if he even has family. King of keeping his private life and work life separated. Pairing that with the fact that he is also a MIST now, it's straight up miracle work to get a hold of him if he doesn't want you to. With that, Tsuna didn't have to worry about any outside influences or enemies getting this information, probably not even Tsuna himself has a fool-proof method of getting to him lmao

3. Going back to the insane point, he is insane enough and smart enough to hear the kind of time-travelling BS Irie and Tsuna came up with and just go... Fine. Give me two real good fights and I'm in. I think that Gokudera could take the infomration well, but again, emotionally he wouldn't be able to take it for too long, and let's be real, Tsuna was ALREADY abusing their feelings there. He prob also didn't want to pile up those feelings even more.

4. It's not weird for Hibari to just be on his own. Wich means that he can be prepping A LOT of shit for this plan and nobody would suspect. Let's say, Yamamoto is missing for 4 months? Mh, weird... not out of the question considering their line of work but weird. Hibari missing for 8 months? Lil rascal is prob in one of his many mansions chilling. I feel like this privacy gives him an edge that is perfect for prepping for a super-secret plan with little suspicion.

5. (SPOILERS FOR SIMON ARC) Hibari has said he feels some kind of gratitude for Tsuna, and I don't doubt that this feeling grows in the future. Paired with all that above, I feel like Tsuna just legit felt like if Hibari was the one helping with it, he wouldn't fuck it up. That mutual trust thing going on you know?

6. uh this point is kind of stupid but he probably has counting on Hibari being able to go full-on nuclear in case everything else failed lmao

7. I think that, meta-wise, Amano wanted to show that Hibari, for as much as he denies being part of the group, still very much got attached to being a Guardian.

TLDR: I think that the emotional pain it would bring other guardians + his aloofness + his power + his relationship with Tsuna was the perfect storm to make him be the perfect choice.

(and don't tell me, I would legit kill for a future-only arc!! I LOVE LOVE seeing them grow and a good chunk of my mental space is dedicated for thinking the kind of adventures they go now. Like, please, the angst? the relationships? THE POWERS? THE A N GS T you have no idea how right you are anon. We were robbed of an arc of them being adults and I will forever cry obver the potential

[sk-lumen]

Need serious advice about setting boundaries or communicating when dealing with a person who:

Is a parent

Has unhealthy communication methods -- it takes very little for them to start full-blown screaming, shouting out all your 'negative' things/mistakes/past, can continue to scream-criticise you even after you've gone silent, for WHOLE MINUTES even if you've shut up, will not accept anything that even hints at them making a mistake

You can't trust since childhood coz u made the mistake of confiding in them with a serious issue as a young teen --- mental related --- and they belittled and invalidated you, and since then pretended you never confided in them and have NO IDEA how you've been coping without them or ANYone else for years... Yeah thanks, parent, what u said back then made me think I was the one at fault and so I stopped trusting even friends coz yeah, when ur own parent doesn't give a damn, why would anyone else?

Is a master at silent treatments without explaining what EXACTLY they're punishing you for, then when theyre in the mood, will start talking to you as if they hadn't ignored you for days. Lol I'd rather be water boarded I think. Especially for all the damage this caused when I was a child

Won't openly talk about what they want, yet expects ALL FHE TIME others (in the family) to know what they want, then will complain/scream/angry for AGES about how no one cares, no one gives a damn... And when someone asks them what they want, they either say: nothing, or "you should know! Can't u see?"

Upon asking them to please talk normally, will blow a fuse, and lose it --- happened multiple times today

Literally will use me as a scape goat to unleash their frustrations upon. Even when I leave the room, I can hear them b*tch about how much of a failure I am etc. The trigger being anything that bothers them, from a phone call to something other siblings did, bla bla. I limit my time with them... But it's like, it feels impossible to have them treat me normally, without ridiculing or criticising me. I'm already a very low self esteem person... This doesn't help AT ALL

In short, refuse to tell/ask/discuss important stuff, and getting mad randomly that no one read their mind, bcoz everyone's 'old enough to have enough sense' to know what they 'should' do... Eg will not pikc up the phone when we call them from the store to ask when what the needed isn't available, so what other alternative can we get... And then when we get home, will instead blame us for being fussy and not getting the alternative, completelt skirting around the issue they didn't deign to pick up the phone... I mean, I don't get it. In the past I HAVE in fact asked them to just openly tell me what they want/expect from me to make them happy... Got passive aggressive answers like "don't you know? Are you dumb?" Bla bla

Passive aggressive to the max when they've lost it

Expect me to drop anything I'm doing and immediately cater to them, and expect me to help them in their hobbies (while simultaneously, as I learned many years ago to much heartache, not being interested or even pretending to be interested in my hobbies. The disinterest taught me very quickly how much what I wanted meant, leading to years of self-invalidation. Luckily I've learned it really is them, not me. My hobbies are valid)

Will not talk about why they're feeling angry, what causes it. Instead will blame me, who's like the golden scapegoat in our amazing family, by saying :YOU made me negative. They've said it many times now... It hurts a lot, when I'm also struggling with my own issues which I ofc can't confide in them about :)

Today I manned up -- the outburst of hatred happened again! Over a simple thing. It was NIGHTMARE and made me angry/sad/frustrated/triggered---, and so I told them to stop talking like that... Boy was that the wrong thing to say... I don't think I can accurately tell u what happened afterwards...

Usually children learn communication skills from the parents... I at least learned to recognize the unhealthy ones, and what NOT to communicate like lol. Like, other parent is even worse, believe it or not. But that's another complex situation

I'm not bashing on the parent. Lord knows I even have that much of a right huh? I hate myself eveb more when they invalidate me if I try to show how MUCH THEY HURT me after a 'communication session'. As in, heaven forbid me if I BE SILENT afterwards and DON'T wanna listen to their retardation. Nope. Even then they provoke me, rage at me, you know how sometimes enraged people hiss vitriol thru gritted teeth? Yeah, that's what they did today after I stayed silent and tried to ignore them an hour later after the 'session' when they wabted something. It's like they don't even need me to say a word and will carry on and on for minutes 🤢

I feel alone, helpless and at a loss what to do

I want to move out. Due to severe mental issues I can't even move out rn coz it scares me even more. But this has to stop. Things are only okay if I'm absolutely passive, say yes to whatever they want, kill my wants and needs, and become a perfect robot bred to cater to them (parent)

I hope you can help me out, dear

Hi darling,

It sounds like you’re in a considerably toxic environment. I'm sorry you're going through this. Know that this is not normal, nor is it how a parent/child relationship should be. In case there's any doubt, let me start by saying you deserve to be supported, respected, listened to, to have your needs met. You deserve to live in an environment that offers you all of these things.

With that being said, from the many scenarios you’ve mentioned you’ve already tried reasoning and setting boundaries, to no avail. There is only so much you can do on your own, if the other person in the equation is not meeting halfway or at all. After all, a healthy conversation involves two people, not just one.

Here's my advice, in this order:

Calmly and maturely asking the respective parent to have a serious discussion with you and to listen to what you have to say. Share how their actions and behaviour is making you feel, let them know you care, and make sure to mention several solutions for the issue as well. If this doesn’t work…

Bring up the subject of needing help from outside, such as the assistance of a specialist/therapist. Family counselling can shed a lot of light on toxic behaviours that are ingrained from childhood (both in their case and yours), on fears your parent may have, stress from their work, whatever is causing their outbursts and anger - because there is always a reason. Behind anger is sadness, and behind sadness is some need not being met, or an underlying fear, trauma, etc. This is not a justification for their behaviour, they are responsible for it; this is simply the fact of how energy dynamics work. People bottle up their frustrations, fears, etc, and let them out on those closest to them, to whom they feel superior. It’s not fair, and it’s not healthy, but it is frequently how this pattern works. If this solution doesn’t work either…

Then unfortunately, all you can do is focus on yourself. If they refuse to meet you anywhere along the road, you have to pack up your things and go your own way. Literally or metaphorically. They may be your parent and you may love them even in spite of their behaviour, but you cannot hold yourself responsible for anything they say or do; that is on them. In those cases, you have to prioritize your own mental health and wellbeing, and focus on moving out. If your (home) environment is toxic, you have to focus on first changing it. That’s vital. Only afterwards can you start healing, refinding yourself, reclaiming your self-esteem and confidence, your sense of worth. As long as you stay stuck in a toxic environment, you cannot really heal; if there is abuse of any kind (physical, mental, emotional), the causes are still there, leading to re-traumatizing.

If for whatever reason moving out is not (yet) an option, I would emphasize seeking some sort of counselling for yourself, if nothing else. You need an anchor, some sort of support that will help you along your path until you do get out.

Now, I don’t know how old you are. I am going to assume you are over 18 and of age, so only mind my advice if that is the case. (As disclaimer, I don't provide advice to minors as it's not the scope of my blog nor am I specialized/focused on that area.)

I understand moving out seems scary because it is unknown, but with that line of thought you may wait another 10 years in the same situation. Wouldn’t you wake up 10 years later already having done the hard work on moving out, finding your independence, claiming your sense of individuality and moving on from this sort of environment, this phase in your life?

Sooner is better than later, but do so with mindfulness and care over your mental health, of course. I know it’s scary. But being an adult requires some difficult decisions at times, and setting boundaries begins with choosing your wellbeing and doing what needs to be done, even if it is something uncomfortable short-term, but highly rewarding and beneficial long-term.

Hope this helps... and wishing you much luck, clarity, gentle guidance and comfort.✨

PS: Lately I've been receiving longer and longer letters in my inbox. As solution, I was thinking of having longer asks/letters redirected to my blog where there isn't any length limit, and readers can more comfortably browse both my tumblr and blog - and those requesting advice can share and receive a more in-depth response.

-Lumen

[artificialqueens]

Gimme Love, 1/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Welp! I started this back in March. It was supposed to be a oneshot and then I realised it was 200 odd pages. Whoops! Another songfic based on music by Joji. This one is Gimme Love, which some of you would probably know, it was circling TikTok for a while. Anyway, more song fics to come!! I hope y'all enjoy! Stay safe in these crazy times!

TW: Mental health, panic attacks

1993

"OK, so you got your apple juice, your finger sandwiches, and grapes. And most importantly, you got your best outfit on. Ready?"

No. I wasn't ready. They were going to eat me up. I knew just by how the 3 bitches off to the side stared and laughed. One of them was swinging from the bus stop pole. It sounded evil, but I hoped she would have fallen over.

"No." I clung to my Mother.

"Brianna." She uttered. She was tired, already having dealt with this before leaving the house. And it didn't help that Grandpa only laughed instead of helping out.

"No!" I said louder, squeezing my tiny fists into her shoulders.

"Look. Everything will be fine. The day will fly in, trust me. And I'll be right here when you get off the bus later." Mom continued.

She gave me a kiss on the forehead and shook me off.

As she smoothed her skirt down, I stamped my foot in a huff. For me, this was the second most ultimate betrayal that had ever happened to me. My Mom was making me go to school. How dare she.

"I love you, girl. Be good and have a great day." Mom said before walking away. My gaze followed, feeling the faucet in my eyes turn on. I was prone to cry baby behaviour around this age.

Now that my Mom was gone, it was all game for the bitches.

"Awww, the little baby needs her Mommy." One of them cooed in her fake voice. "Didn't you know the pre-school bus picks up two hours later?"

"Yeah!" Another decided to join in, "And I bet that's not even your real Mommy."

"She is too!" I clenched my tiny fists at my side. This was half true. I was an adopted child, but to me, Roberta was the best Mother I could have ever asked for. And no one had the right to question that.

"No, she's not! Your real Mommy didn't want you 'cause you're ugly!"

"Yeah, look at your hair. It looks like a fur ball."

"And your clothes are obviously hand me downs."

I stamped my feet again. "That's it! I'm giving you the finger!" I flipped them off. I picked it up from Mom, from the many time's drivers pissed her off. When she'd warn me never to do that, I knew it had some sort of power to it.

But it did nothing. The girls just laughed even more. I had no defences; therefore, I was left helpless.

The bus pulled up, and I was last to get in. The girls warned almost everybody to watch out for the "girl with the weird hair".

I moved down the middle of the bus, my head moving from side to side, hoping to find a seat.

Everybody with a free seat either put their bags on the chairs or put their feet up. I wanted to snap, demanding that they let me sit. But the fear inside rendered me silent.

I was nearing the back, where the 3 girls sat. They smirked upon seeing my face, relishing in the fact I was on the verge of tears. All I wanted was to turn back, get off the bus and lock myself in my house.

But as if someone above heard my innermost thoughts, that's when I heard it.

"Do you need a seat?"

I looked towards the voice. And I froze. There she was, an absolute angel. She looked like a Disney Princess with her bright blonde hair and blue eyes.

I hesitated for a moment. But the bus began to move. So I sat down next to her.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey." Her eyes were observing me, looking me up and down. And I felt even more stunned. "You have funny hair."

"My Mommy says I have lovely hair," I replied in defence.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just never seen hair like that." The girl replied.

My hair wasn't even bad. I just had a massive head of untamed brown curls. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then again, I had never seen anyone with hair like hers. She looked like she had gone to a salon beforehand. "Your hair looks golden."

"Thank you." She smiled. "I'm Blair. My favourite colour is yellow, and I wanna be a singer when I grow up. How about you?"

"I'm Brianna. My favourite colour is pink. And...I wanna be a politician someday."

"What's a pola...polatichon?" Blair asked.

"A politician." I corrected her. "I don't know what they do. They just shout a lot. And that's what I want to do."

Blair had no idea what I was talking about, but she laughed anyway. And that made my heart skip a beat.

I felt something pelt the back of my head. I grabbed it, looking at the small rolled up bit of my paper in my hand. It was wet. I had just been spitballed for the first time.

Blair looked over her shoulder, and I did the same. It was the three bitches from the bus stop. They weren't even hiding their giggles.

"Not nice." Blair stuck her tongue out at them. Then, turning back around in her seat, she put her hand on mine. "Don't worry about them. I'm your friend, Brianna."

"Really?" My eyes brightened.

"Of course!"

As much as that statement had made my heart soar, how it made me feel like there was nothing to be afraid of…

It was the biggest lie I heard that day.

As soon as I got off the bus at the end of the day, I waved to Blair, unaware that she would be sitting with the 3 bitches the next day.

And then it went on for years, being that ugly girl with weird hair. And it didn't help that I needed glasses later in life.

But I wasn't completely alone. So let me tell you about Jujubee.

2020

"Hey, asshole! I'm pulling in there!"

Jujubee was hanging out the driver side window, flicking the indicator aggressively.

"Juju, can you just...not do that?" I asked, my eyes glued to my phone as I checked how many people had seen my Instagram story. It was a picture of the two of us, showing off our outfits that had been gifted from Alexander McQueen.

"And let that asshole steal my spot? Absolutely not." Jujubee protested. She flipped the guy off, only to receive the same gesture back at her. She wasn't prone to behaving like this. I usually found it absolutely hilarious how loud she could be.

Now, you're probably wondering - two well-dressed ladies in their Alexander McQueen outfits should be seated in the back of a limo, sipping champagne.

I wasn't a fan of limos. They only drew attention.

And with Jujubee hurling dog abuse at the other drivers, I was sure the attention would be on us.

But we made it to the event without any trouble.

Jujubee was hilarious, intentionally and unintentionally. I learned that all the way back on my second day of school. When it was clear to me that I wouldn't be friends with anyone else, I ventured off on my own, exploring the playground and looking for bugs. But, instead, I found her sitting alone in the sandbox.

"Leave me alone. I'm trying to dig to the centre of the Earth." She had said, blowing her shiny black hair out of her face.

I knew she would only reach the bottom of the pit, so I laughed, and I helped her dig. We had been inseparable since.

We grew up together, all the way through elementary, high school and college. And through those years, we had one thing in common - we were the weird ones. The kids who everyone bullied.

Ugh, I hated that word; bullied. It made me feel pathetic and helpless. Jujubee and I, however? We were far from pathetic and helpless. After all, how would we even be where we were if that was the case?

OK, maybe I was pathetic and helpless growing up. No, I was. I had just accepted all the name-calling, the shoving, the damage. Jujubee, on the other hand, would fight against it all.

But back to the current situation. We were now sitting at a table with the other project workers. Everyone was having a great time, and the event hadn't even really begun yet. They passed jokes around, talked about trials and tribulations, and I laughed along.

But I may as well have been alone as I was stuck in my own thoughts. How it was even possible, we were all gathered here for this moment.

I looked at Jujubee, sitting next to me, and felt an overwhelming need to hug the shit out of her. If it weren't for her being so encouraging, then maybe this wouldn't have happened.

"What's up?" She caught me staring.

I lowered my head for a moment, breathing a laugh out through my nostrils. I didn't want to get sappy with her, even though she deserved my gratitude. My best friend, my ride-or-die bitch. Lifting my head again, I smirked. "Nothing. I'm just glad you're on this team." I raised my glass to her before sipping the bubbling champagne.

"Proud of you bitch." Jujubee reaching over and squeezed my free hand.

I was proud of me too. Because, despite all of the shit I dealt with in school, here I was, the manager and director of this whole operation.

All of the hard work paid off - years of trials and tribulations, so many arguments and disagreements. We finally did it. We found a gateway to another world, a parallel universe, a portal in the middle of the space just waiting to be explored.

Of course, people doubted me. They said things like, "Well, it is a dream, all right." How could anyone blame them?

But here we were.

The speaker, Michelle, called me up onto the stage to receive a certificate, all encased in a glass frame. I exchanged air kisses with her and graciously took the award. Jujubee cheered me on as I stood up there, letting people take pictures.

And then came the obligatory speech.

I couldn't lie; I hated public speaking. It was always something I struggled with. But, I never backed down from one. I just liked to keep them short and sweet.

"Long story short, I had dreams, and I worked towards them. So, here I am, an example of the walking embodiment of success. And I thank each and every one of you, ladies and gentlemen. Have a great night."

Short and sweet. The crowd applauded.

Yes, I was told in the past that I'm arrogant, but I disagreed. I'd say confident. And there was nothing wrong with confidence. After all, there has been a stigma around that word. Doesn't it come from a sense of insecurity, the need to tear successful people down because you're afraid to strive towards your goals?

I deserved to feel this successful, for all those times I was laughed at and ridiculed. I look down on all those assholes and let them know that I made it.

I posed for pictures as I held my award, knowing they would be everywhere the next day; in the papers, magazines, the Internet.

This wasn't the first award I had received. I had a shelf full back home, along with all of my past badges. They reminded me that, once upon a time, I was just any other office worker with her yellow badge. And now here I was, the director of the project with my black badge working closely with the government.

I got off the stage and moved back to my chair. Jujubee rolled her eyes, but her smile remained.

"Where's the after-party?" I asked as the audience shifted their attention from me.

Sometimes I never understood how she put up with me. "Don't worry. I got us covered."

She wasn't lying. A few hours later, we were in the apartment of some other rich somebody. Music was bouncing off the walls, the speakers apparently on full blast.

The main lights were out, replaced with multicoloured LEDs dancing around the place. It was as if we were in our own private club.

Jujubee and I were in the crowd dancing, but because I was absolutely wasted, I lost her many times.

No need to panic, however. Jujubee wasn't a drinker. So she'd find me. She always did.

I really did feel sorry that she had to deal with all of my shenanigans.

"Juju, where the fuck are you??" I roared, not that it would do much. Midsummer Madness by 88RISING was blaring now. Starting to stress out now.

I grabbed a champagne flute as a waiter walked by.

"Brianna, I love the dress." A woman leaned over and shouted in my ear. I had met her before at another event, a fashion reporter if I remembered correctly.

"Thanks. It's Versaci."

As I said earlier, it was fucking Alexander McQueen. I was faded.

Somehow I ended up in the bathroom, throwing up all the alcohol I had consumed into the toilet. After I finished, I washed my mouth out, looked at my reflection and said, "Baby, you're a star."

And somehow, I made it back downstairs. I was searching for Jujubee but found someone else instead. And it was fucking Ed Sheeran.

"I love your new song." I lied.

"Which one?"

"The new one." I smiled. "Hey, Ed. You wanna be the first person to go through the portal?" I wrapped an arm around him.

He looked absolutely taken aback. "Of fucking course. My manager will be in touch."

I really hoped he was joking. Why the fuck had I even suggested it?

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Jujubee. My nerves settled, and I leaned closer to her. "Let's go outside."

I had no recollection of making it out to the balcony. The only thing I remembered happening before then was rambling to many strangers about how much I adored Jujubee.

A few other party attendees were outside too. I wanted to tell them how I didn't deserve Jujubee and that she was an angel. But she quickly steered me away.

I looked out over the city, a happy smile on my face.

"Are you having fun, baby girl?" Jujubee asked, using her favourite pet name for me. She sparked up a cigarette. I wanted to ask her for one, having gone from chain smoker to social smoker in recent years. But I was too distracted by the view.

"Yeah. I can feel it, Juju." I replied, looking at my hands. It was almost like I could actually feel it. The euphoric feeling of success running in my veins. "Good things are coming."

"Oh, I feel it too." Jujubee blew out the smoke and followed my gaze. "You know what? Your Grandpa was a great guy. And I know that he's proud of you."

My smile dropped. And I was silent.

I preferred to avoid speaking about things like this. Emotions weren't something I liked to deal with - another difference between Jujubee and me.

Just the year prior, we both went to see Midsommar. During the scene where the main character is having a breakdown on the ground surrounded by the Hargan woman screaming along with her, Jujubee was captivated. She looked almost like she wanted to scream along with them. And as she squeezed my hand and leaned over to me, she said, "I need someone to do that with me." I replied with a quiet, "Can't relate."

I'm not insensitive. I just feared emotions for two reasons.

1. They could be weaponised against me. And as much as I tried not to let the online hate get to me, I knew that if it ever became personal, then it would hit difficult.

2. The most important reason of all; a childhood full of breakdowns and too many emotions.

Jujubee nudged me. "You wanna go?"

I didn't want to. But I said, "Yeah. I'm...so drunk right now," and turned away from the city view.

"Can I be that annoying whore and ask if I can stay at your place?" Jujubee asked, taking my hand.

She didn't even need a reason. "Yes, you can."

We waded our way through the crowd, made for the door and left. And before I knew it, we were back at my place, lying in my bed. I loaned her a t-shirt to sleep in. I wanted to sleep in my Alexander McQueen. But Jujubee wouldn't let me.

We both lay there, facing the ceiling. I could already feel the oncoming suffering. Usually, I loved moments like these, when time became fluid, when I didn't have to worry about how I had even gotten home.

But my head was pounding, and the loud ringing in my ears was the cause. If I was bad now, I'd be dead by morning.

I could feel Jujubee's eyes on me, and I looked back at her. She was smiling, her brown eyes glimmering. "Almost there, girl."

Despite the pain I was in, I smiled back. I knew this whole thing, the thingy, the portal; it wasn't just my dream. It was hers too.

Fuck, I was hammered.

"Almost there," was all I could manage to say.

Jujubee turned on her side and treated me to some cuddly spooning. "OK, go to sleep, loser."

It was straining on my neck, but I kept my head turned, letting my eyes linger for a moment longer. God, I fucking loved that bitch. Nothing was ever going to come between us, and that made me the happiest.

I turned over, my back relaxing against her torso. Then, before giving in to my exhaustion, I checked my phone. The bright light made me squint at first. And the alcohol in my system didn't help matters.

I checked how many people had seen my story now. The number was blurry. So I aimlessly swiped notifications away.

But I stopped at one message in particular.

Blair: Hey Brianna! Long time no speak. I just wanted to say I saw pictures from your thing tonight. Congrats, girl! Look, I know you're probably super busy, but I'd love to have a catch up with you sometime.

"..." My eyes were wide. Now that was a name I hadn't heard in a long time.

1995

"Do you see Cassiopeia yet?" Juju whined.

I was trying my hardest to find it in the telescope. But the stars were all in clutters; there were so many. "No. I think I see the big dipper, though."

"Really? Let me have a turn!" Juju begged.

I pulled away from the telescope, allowing Juju her turn. Usually, I would have refused, only letting her use the scope after finding what I was looking for.

I really hadn't found the big dipper, but Juju bought it. "Wooooow. That's so cool."

"I know, right?" I smirked.

The backdoor opened, and Grandpa came out in his winter jacket, pj's and his signature slippers. "How many have you girls found now?"

He was carrying two mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream. I cheered excitedly because Grandpa's hot chocolate was the best, and I'd fight anyone who tried to tell me otherwise.

"We found the big dipper. But that's it." Juju replied, sounding very much let down.

"Don't lose hope," Grandpa gave us our hot chocolate, "some are harder to find than others. I bet there are a lot more constellations out there that haven't even been discovered yet."

I sipped the hot drink, and I could feel it already warming me up. I was so tempted to take my gloves off and let the mug warm them up. But we promised my Mom we would stay wrapped up. "Do you think we could discover one?"

Grandpa took a seat on one of the old deck chairs. "Brianna, you can do anything you set your mind to. Anything is possible."

"One day, I wanna get into a rocket ship and fly away," I said, looking up at the night sky, imagining the scene in my head.

"Hey, Mr Caldwell, are there other people like us? Just looking up at the sky?" Juju asked, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

"That's an interesting question. I'd say yes, what with how nice the sky is tonight," Grandpa let his gaze trail up, the stars reflecting in his eyes, "But did you know, somewhere far, far away, there are two little girls who are exactly like you. They look the same, they talk the same and even have your names. And they are doing exactly what you're doing right now."

My brows knit in confusion, "what do you mean 'far far away?"

Grandpa looked down again, seeing how intrigued Juju and I was. "Let's just call it the other world. It's basically like our world, but...certain things are different. Like," he paused to think, "maybe cats bark and dogs meow. Or, maybe the sky is pink and not blue. Maybe you girls are actually older, and I'm the young one."

"Do horseys fly in the other world?" Juju asked with much optimism.

"Probably. I don't see why not." Grandpa shrugged.

I glanced up at the sky as if I would somehow just see it. Another world where life was somewhat better.

"Would my Mommy and Daddy have given me up in the other world?" I asked quietly.

Grandpa was silent. His lips were pursed, forming a tight line like there were words on the tip of his tongue that he knew he shouldn't say.

Juju hugged me from the side. I wanted to hug her back but didn't want to cry.

Her hold made me feel safe, so I offered her a half-smile.

Since my first day at school, when those cretins had tried to tell me Roberta wasn't my real Mom, it stuck with me. Yeah, I knew deep down those girls didn't know shit, and Roberta was the best Mother in the world, but I was only human.

As much as I loved my Mom, Grandpa and other family members, I just wanted to feel acceptance from my biological parents.

"Brianna, honey, whoever your family is in the other world, I'm sure they love you from the bottom of their hearts. Just like we do." Grandpa said. He extended his arms out, offering me a hug.

I didn't want it. But I knew I needed it.

That night, we didn't find any constellations. Not that it mattered. After my Grandpa went back inside, Juju and I were set on finding the other world instead.

And this interest went on for nearly a whole year.

It sounded dumb, but we would play games where we were our 'other world selves'. Juju lived in a house full of cats, and they were 'cutest cats in the whole country. So cute they won every pageant!'

And I lived in a huge mansion with my Mom, Grandpa, and my biological parents.

We collectively agreed that our other world selves were the prettiest girls in school, and we had tons of friends. We were so cool, we didn't even have to go to school.

Of course, this started a minor argument between us. Juju would always say, "how can we be the prettiest girls at school if we don't have to go to school??"

"Shut up, Juju! Anything is possible in the other world!"

"Yeah, but it doesn't make sense!"

All of it was so ridiculous. But we loved every minute of it.

I'll never forget the time we built a fort in the woods at the back of my house, and Juju stood under the archway and shouted. "I'm the queen of 'Other World'. Beware ye bastards who enter our domain!"

Then she got upset because she said a bad word and thought she had betrayed her parents.

A few minutes later, I fucked up.

"I, Brianna Caldwell, am the Queen of 'Other World'. I sit on this throne along with my best friend, Blair St Clair!"

Juju was even more upset now.

"Why is she your best friend?? I'm your best friend!" She began to cry.

"Jujubee, it's only pretend." I tried to reason with her.

"No, Brie-Brie. You're always talking about Blair! I know you would rather be best friends with her than me!"

"That's not true!"

"It is!" She wept. "She'll never be your friend, Brie-Brie. She doesn't even like you."

"Take that back!"

"No!"

My anger was bubbling beyond the boiling point. So I shoved her over. "Go away. Now!"

Juju ran off crying.

My teeth were grit, my fists clenched. For about 5 minutes, I stormed around the fort, screaming in anger and kicking the ground.

Mom was freaked out. She knew it was me screaming, so she came running. When she found me, she shouted at me for scaring the absolute fuck out of her.

This only pissed me off more. It took her 5 minutes to get me to chill out.

When I finally explained what happened, she told me it was OK and that we'd be friends again the next day.

It didn't help my mood, so she took me to the mall. It was a rare occasion for us to visit the place. We weren't the richest, what with Mom struggling to keep a job. She wasn't a lousy worker; someone else would just come along who was much more experienced. And without another parental figure to help out, it just meant not much money was being brought into the house.

But Mom decided we'd go to the toy store, and I'd find two dolls, one for me and one for Juju. I made sure they looked exactly like us. Well, considering the nice clothes and great hair, they were our other-selves.

And leaving the building, I was perched on Mom's shoulders, eating the biggest ice cream cone I had ever gotten, when I looked over at the jewellery shop. Two women were leaving the store, holding hands. They leaned in close to each other and kissed.

I just...stared as they smiled at each other, mesmerised by the adoration they so clearly shared.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Brianna, baby?"

"Why are those two ladies kissing?"

Mom cast a quick glance to where I was looking. "Oh. OK, first of all, don't stare. It's rude. But yeah, they're just two ladies in love with each other. That's all."

I looked away, just as she told me to do. "They're in love? I thought only boys and girls could be in love."

"I guess they're still telling you that in school, huh?" Mom quipped. "Well, I'll tell you this, but keep it on the down-low 'cause I don't want no parents coming and knocking on my door saying you're putting ideas into their kids' heads." She laughed. "The truth is; boys can fall in love with boys, and girls can fall in love with girls. You fall in love with whoever your heart tells you to, Brianna."

I nodded. "Uh, huh. OK, I understand." But then, it hit me. "Fuck."

"Brianna." Mom warned. She knew I was prone to sometimes spurting a few cuss words. But she only had herself to blame.

"Sorry, Mommy." And as we left the mall, my brain couldn't stop thinking about what had popped into my head.

Maybe, just maybe, I was in love with Blair.

My mind was taking me back to years prior, still in my first year of elementary school. It was coming up to Valentine's Day, and we all had to make a card for someone in the class. Bit of a weird activity for a bunch of kids who were more concerned if they were getting bikes for Christmas or not.

And I slaved over my card, making it yellow instead of the traditional pink colour, and drawing daisies all over it.

The message read, "You really deserve this. You're welcome." I've always been a poetic genius.

And instead of giving it to any of the boys, I insisted it went to Blair.

I had vague memories of that day. I only remembered her confused face as I handed it over.

I never received a card in return.

Of course, the other kids picked on me for it. But Juju had my back.

"You're all just jealous 'cause Brie-Brie's card is unique!" I remember her shouting.

But of course, they weren't jealous. This concept was foreign to them - a girl gifting another girl with a Valentine's Day gift. But then again, they just didn't know any better.