Oh no babe! I hope the rest of your day goes slightly better (or at least not worse) and I DO HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER!!
Sending highs and kisses your way. PLENTY of them!!
Idk why people think it's normal(?) to make it KNOWN that they didn't like something like ok bro, just scroll past. It's not that hard???
Anyway, I want to let you know that I've been on Tumblr for like 11 years now and have been reading fanfiction for almost 98% of that duration and you have been one of my absolute favourite authors OF ALL TIME!!!
You got that midas touch and I love you for putting in so much thought and effort into treating us with your work because it truly is a delight!
LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! Feel better soon plis! Hopefully!
- 🌿
i love youu :( you’re too nice to me, i don’t even know how to thank you enough for being here,,, this honestly makes me feel so loved 🩷 sending u all of my love back !
I had a terribly stressful dream last night. There is death-related material under the cut, it may be triggering. My stress dreams, so often have the missing locker, forgotten combo- the setting and personal conflict are reoccurring. I’m an adult, why do I STILL have stress dreams in a school setting???? What’s in the locker?
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The dream starts out in a very large school ground. There are lots of trees, green grass, a creek right on the side. The building is polished wood, with silvery metal columns. I’m at school, standing with my faceless parents. I’m the “new” kid, I don’t want to be there, there’s a lot of noise from all the other students in class and outside. I can’t tell if its laughter, or shrieks of fear or surprise. I have a lurking feeling.
I’m placed on a tour with some other students and they’re all ‘cheerful”, but there is still something lurking…I learn that there is a monster in the school, murderous monster haunting the hallways. Ever class change the students hurry to their next class, many clinging to the walls, many dart, trying to avoid the monster.
We eventually go outside for recess. It's idyllic, like an outside classroom. There are logs to climb, to jump, a creek to explore, flowers to pick, grass to roll in, and winter sunshine. There is a red-headed boy who looks stressed, to a point of a nervous desperation. He tells a group of students, that not to believe what he says inside the building. And that there is a mimic of him inside, that is trying to sabotage everything and kill them all. They laugh at him, brush him off, horseplay with him, saying why is he so different inside and out? They go off looking for a hidden treasure.
We return to class, I was told which class to go to, but I end up ditching and sit in a ‘kindergarten’ class, and I am failing miserably at this strange dice related math test. It is nothing but 6 sided die, and I feel like I have to decode, and I can’t write anything, I don’t understand a lick of it. The teacher says reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you did fine.”, and snaps my paper away.
After class, I go to the classroom that was I was supposed to go to. I speak to this small Spanish-Danish speaking woman with long black hair. I apologize to her and ask for a syllabus so I can catch up on my own. She tells me there is not a syllabus, but “you’ll be fine”.
I then try to find my locker. There are so many of them and I can’t remember which one I was shone, or what combination it was. And there is a stream of students pushing and pulling, I surrender and return to the office to ask. I’m told to go upstairs, to speak to a woman, but she is not there, the other secretary says, “I can’t pull your record, but I can work backward to figure it out.” I agree.
As we are descending the steps I have a vision that makes my stomach jump. It’s about the red-headed kid and he is dead. I see him limp and staring at the horizon. I’m terrified, and I tell the secretary who doesn’t believe me.
A large gathering of students begins to grow outside. Most are talking like lunchtime gossip, some kids are laughing. The red-headed kid is hanging in a tree, by his neck, staring straight ahead above everyone’s heads with his head tilted to the side.
Half of the students say the monster got to him, but the other half say it couldn’t because the monster would have eaten him, but my gut tells me it was suicide.
I hear a small hum, and I turn around to see the mimic, behind the secretary. It has an oozing smile and is still wearing the face of the red-headed child. It speaks:
“You’re right, he was right. No one believed him. Welcome to class. I am the Monster.”
