3am-sleep-paralysis-demon

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

"Every part of the space ship has been replaced several times. Every part except for that damn coffee mug which is in the same condition it had been since this freighter has been constructed over 400 years ago. Thrown out? Misplaced? It always returns to the same spot and in the same condition.

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

So I had a hysterectomy today (hooray!) and I brought along my stuffed orca, Shamu, as a comfort object. And everyone i interacted with during my pre-op was like "Oh! Who's this?" so I was telling them all about him, how he's been with me since I was 9 and gone on every single vacation and road trip, and they were telling me about their own stuffed buddies (one lady said she still has hers after 40 years!) and all of this while I was signing consent forms and providing a list of the things I'd brought with me, you know, small talk.

So then a nurse comes over and goes "Okay, I've got some stickers I'll put on your things so we know they're yours" and I'm like "OK cool" so she puts a sticker on my coat and stickers on my bags of clothes and then she turns to Shamu and I'm like "oh I guess he gets a sticker too"

But no. She pulls out a hospital bracelet that's an exact copy of mine and slaps it on his tail, like so:

And i was delighted by this, so I took a picture to send to my friends, who were equally delighted, and were cracking me up with their reactions (like so:)

Anyway, they take me back and put me under, and when I awake groggily a few hours later it takes me a minute to get my bearings, so I don't notice Shamu at first. But then I realize he's tucked up next to me in the gurney, so I grab him, and my hand touches gauze.

And I'm like "huh?" so I look at him and I realize

They gave my fucking orca a hysterectomy

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

One of my older cousins is actually a reformed snape wife and yesterday she walked in while me and her sister were watching your video laughing our asses off. She just stood there with a thousand yard stare and then silently went to the kitchen and started chugging vodka straight from the bottle.

Your cousin is???? Is she one of the people mentioned in the video?????????

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

EEPY.

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

Happy New Year's everyone! 🎉🎆

Hope you'll have an amazing year and as little dissaray as possible (unlike the survivors heh)

This art piece took a while.

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

do you ever think about dead versions of yourself that are fossilized in someone else's mind

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

when the mf you suspect to be your long dead uncle randomly says your dads name on a shitty day in the caves

tbh i think Wendy already figured it out like the moment she saw Maxwell BUT THIS IS GOOFY TO THINK AB

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

🥀

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

this post is an experiment, I am curious about how far you will get into the post.

to start, I challenge you to read the orange text below, and not read any further:

the challenge is to only read this far into the post. if you are stopping here, leave a comment about your favorite carbohydrate.

ok, you have decided to continue reading. hell yeah. no shame in that at all. this test is not meant to make you feel bad, in fact, you should be happy whenever you want forever.

if you made it here leave a comment of your favorite fictional universe, you are officially a Tier 2 Post Reader.

ok, the next part of this post is behind a barrier, there's a keep reading button. if you made it this far, tell me your favorite reptile in the comments. you are more than welcome to stop here, only continue if you would like to.

hiiiii :)

ok you're in the big leagues now. this is the DLC of the post. if you made it here, tell me your favorite milk substitute.

now FOR REAL. this would be a cool place to finish off at. you can go after this, I promise you're not missing out, you can leave. If you made it here, tell me what tattoo you would get if you decided to get a new tattoo today.

thank you for reading, I promise this is a cool place to stop reading the post. you really can go now. :) 👍

*ahem* alright, you are still with me. I'm happy to have ya. here's the deal, the chance of you seeing a picture of my dog within this post is 12.5%. you have a 1/8 chance of seeing a dog in this post.

keep in mind, that is not a high chance.

if you are ready to leave now, tell me your favorite plant. like, your favorite plant can be a tree or a specific fruit or vegetable or whatever. just tell me your favorite. then you may leave the post.

alright. since you made it here, I have the ultimate test: a link. definitely the highest barrier to entry so far, this could lead you anywhere. it's a trust exercise with a complete stranger.

clicking on this link will continue the post further, for how long this will go on, I cannot say. If you do not want to proceed, tell me your favorite sauce, and be on your way. I like buffalo ranch.

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

It’s SO funny to me how like in all of the official art, Willow is never holding the torch. That’s Wilson’s job. Shes not allowed to touch it lmao

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

she’s super eager to share her craft with the world (arson)

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

Ralsei and Susie get a chance to win a new car!

The audio is edited from the Jimmy Neutron episode, "Birth of a Salesman". This time I made Spamton's glitches with vdcrpt, an awesome video corrupter. Here's the link: https://branchpanic.itch.io/vdcrpt

Total Time: 45 hrs (spread across 30 days)

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

Kiss request speedrun (sorry to those I didn't get to, tyvm for all the prompts!)

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.

Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.

One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.

All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.

So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.

And Mr. Hargrove loved it.

It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.

Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”

And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.

Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.

One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.

That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.

And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.

And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)

So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.

Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.

[3am-sleep-paralysis-demon]

learned how to use blenders film making tools