Every twelve hours, a strange phenomenon sweeps the continent of North America. The sun mysteriously dips below the horizon, and people are stuck with a strange fainting sickness. This inexplicable ailment starts with the infected growing fatigued and needing to lie down. They do not get up for another twelve hours, where those infected wake up without any symptoms. Next up on The Twilight Zone
I want you to know that as I’m scrolling my feed and one of your posts pop up I get jumpscared every time, as I only followed you recently and my brain autocompletes looking at your profile pic and confuses it with the now defunct (and can get fucked) neil gaiman.
I unfollowed him after all the allegations and every time one of your posts pops up my brain flips out thinking, “I thought i blocked this bitch.”
But then I realize it’s just my beloved mr serling
Unlike Neil Gaimen I have never sexually assaulted people.
I like the posters in the tower of terror gift shop but they always stand out to me as very modern art styles so i wanted to try my hand at making a poster that's based in 1930s art! I also wanted to have carolyn in a pretty red dress like the posters but since strapless dresses weren't super popular yet i went for this halter gown based on one seen in The Women (1939)
plus a changing portrait variety because haunted mansion shouldn't get all the fun
My conduct this year landed me on Santa Claus's fabled and controversial "Kill-at-all-Costs" List. Turns out the reason the big man and his people don't exercise that option more often is that they really aren't good at following through on it. Well outside their core competency. He's delegated to the elves, and they've got this ingrained assembly-line mindset that doesn't translate at all to the adaptable and fluid mindset needed for siege breaking. They just haven't adjusted their playbook at all from when they're doing rote deliveries. Armed Elves have been rappelling down my chimney one at a time into the roaring fire I've kept going nonstop for the last week. They haven't even thought to try my front door yet. Whole house smells like peppermint, which it turns out is what burnt elf meat smells like. Thought I was being super clever putting cyanide-laced almond milk out with the cookies as a last line of defense, but none of them have made it even the scant few feet to the side table where that's sitting. At the rate things are going the real danger is that I'm gonna forget what I did with that and accidentally drink it myself while I'm watching the show
Glimpses of the girl you are, and perhaps the one you may become.
dreams
You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into... the Twilight Zone.
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