#ninety years without slumbering

[thebarroomortheboy]

"Clocks are made by men, God creates time. No man can prolong his allotted hours, he can only live them to the fullest - in this world or in the Twilight Zone."

THE TWILIGHT ZONE | 5.12 Ninety Years Without Slumbering

[stingrayextraordinaire]

Twilight Zone Moodboards // Ninety Years Without Slumbering

My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf, so it stood ninety years on the floor.

[agonyonlayerthree]

hey!! You aren’t irredeemable!! Trust me, I know what irredeemable looks like.

"Please. You don't have to humor me.

I'm a corporate shill. I was made to be. I hurt people. I throw everyone I meet under the bus if it means I get anything out of it. All I've ever cared about is Colorado's bottom line -- and look where that got me. The place was destroyed, I got shopped around, nobody needed me, and I packed myself into a refrigerator box and mailed myself back to the Factory to be decommissioned.

Good people don't end up here -- some kind of -- personal heck where they manage an empty Fazbender's all day. Good people don't get stuck here. Good people -- they -- they get to move on, they get to find fulfillment, they get, I don't know..."

"They get a happiest d...

...

Has this thing always been sitting next to the broken cabinet? Ugh -- its so creepy..."

[misterradio]

list of twilight zones about a guy who is just kind of weird and has a really specific obsession

[angstywaifu]

Not Meant To Care - Xaden Riorson x Reader

Prompt - “Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever!” from anonymous. A/N: I definitely didn't forget to schedule this weeks posts. Not at all.... Anyway, enjoy some Xaden! Masterlist

Every part of my body screamed at me as I hobbled down the stairs from the flight field. The pain reminding me of the first few times I flew on my dragon last year. It had been a while since I had felt like this. Today an opposing squad from another wing had been paired with ours for the class. And it had gone bad fast.

The other squad were on us in seconds despite it being a class to learn new manoeuvres. I had fallen victim to two other riders sandwiching me and my dragon between theirs. With them having larger dragons they had easily manoeuvred us into a flip, and I hadn’t had a chance to grip onto my dragon properly before I was thrown from their back. Luckily another squad member had seen it and flew over to catch me. But the impact had shook my entire body. Everything now aching and hurting because of it. Each step causing another ripple of pain to shoot you my body. The pain getting worse with every step. I had been dumb enough to brush off my squad mates when we got back and was now alone for my decent back to the quadrant. It was going to be a long and painful hobble over to the healers.

After what feels like hours I finally descend into the rotunda. A few people turn and whisper as I hobble in and start to make my way towards the healers. I hear rushed footsteps and look up to see Bodhi and Imogen rushing over to me.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bodhi asks urgently as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side, taking the brunt of my weight.

I wince in pain, but without bearing all of my weight I can’t help the sigh of relief as I lean into Bodhi.

“Just a little mishap in flight training.” I get out between gritted teeth.

“A little mishap that’s left your hobbling across the court yard like you’re in your ninety’s?” Imogen questions as she falls into step as Bodhi slowly walks me towards the healers quadrant.

I wince in pain as Bodhi walks us up some stairs, causing them both to share a concerned look.

“It’s fine. Nothing a healer can’t fix.” I tell them sternly.

“Y/N, you are the best flier in your year and probably one of the best in the quadrant right now. This isn’t little.” Bodhi’s voice pleading me to tell them what had happened.

As we turn the corner to the healers quadrant I wince in pain, my eyes screwing shut. I don’t even register the sound of Imogen’s rushed footsteps leading away from us as Bodhi hurries me towards the healers quadrant.

Bodhi barges through the door, fully taking my weight as he is guided towards the back area of the room where the menders reside. I groan in pain as he lowers me on the bed. I barely register the nurse and Bodhi talking as I focus on my breathing. Clearly the impact of the fall had caused more damage than I had thought.

Something cold on my head startles me and I look up to see Bodhi pressing a damp cloth to my head. I sigh in relief, the coolness taking the edge off the pain. He offers a small smile as I feel something wash over me. I look over to see a mender grasping my hand in theirs. I feel my body slowly release the pain. As if they are drawing it into themselves through our connected hands. My body sags in relief as the tension is released. My eyes start to flutter close. A side effect of mending was the toll it took on the mended and the patient. As I fall into a peaceful slumber I vaguely hear a loud gruff voice yelling my name in the distance.

When I open my eyes I immediately know I’m not in the healers quadrant. Instead I lie in a much softer bed, tucked into a blanket. As I breathe, I note the smells of mint, leather and something that reminds me of a flower or citrus. I’d smelt it before, but where? My answer quickly comes to me as the sound of a chair creaking draws my eyes over to the last person I expected to see. Xaden. I was in Xaden’s room. Xaden who I’d always had a stupid crush on, despite how much we despised each other. We had never gotten along. Always bickering and pestering each other. Pushing each others buttons whenever we could. And yet here I was. In his bed as he watched over me. His Onyx eyes scan over me, assessing me for any pain. As I stretch and sit up I am relieved to feel none of the pain I had felt earlier. Even in the lower light of the room I note Xaden’s shoulders sag in relief, as if relieved to see I am no longer in pain. But the expression on his face remains almost neutral, except for the twitch of his jaw.

”Care to explain?” He asks, anger evident in his tone.

”I don’t need to explain anything.” I snap at him as I shove the blanket off me and stand.

I go to shove past him but his hands grasps my wrist tightly, turning me back to him.

”Yes you do. Now how the hell did you go from being perfectly fine after lunch, to being in excruciating pain to the point Bodhi had to drag you to the healers.” He demands, his onyx eyes piercing into mine.

I nearly cave under his gaze. Tell him what he wants. But I do what I always do. Push his buttons and push him away. Just like the stupid feelings I have for him.

”Like I said. I don't need to explain anything to you. Just a flight manoeuvre that went wrong.” I snap again as I pull my wrist from his hand. “Why are you acting like you care? Since when did you ever care about me?”

”Since fucking forever!” He snaps, his words echoing around his room as silence falls over us.

Xaden’s eyes go wide as he realises what he’s said. The panic clearly evident in them as he looks into mine. As if his emotions had taken over and he hadn’t meant to reveal what he had.

“Y-you hate me. You don’t care about me.” I say, my voice shaking slightly as I slightly shake my head at him.

No, there’s no way Xaden feels the same way I do. No way does he have the same feelings I shouldn’t have for him. The feelings I try to dampen every single day. He can’t.

”But I do. I do fucking care as much as I might not show it. I fucking care about you.” He takes a step towards me, my neck craning back to look up at him as his body becomes flush with mine. He’s so close I swear he could hear how loudly my heart is beating. “And I know you do to. As much as we might try to prove we hate each other every day. We haven’t for a while.”

I shake my head. ”No, we haven’t” I admit.

As my words leave my mouth, the smirk I tried to convince myself I hated on a daily basis but secretly loved graced his lips. The lips I had wanted on mine since we came to this god damn death college. As if we share the same thoughts, Xaden grasps my face between his hands and pulls me into a kiss, before guiding us over to the bed.

[fanofspooky]

The Twilight Zone S5E12

Ninety Years Without Slumbering

“Each man measures his time; some with hope, some with joy, some with fear. But Sam Forstmann measures his allotted time with a grandfather's clock, a unique mechanism whose pendulum swings between life and death, a very special clock that keeps a special kind of time - in the Twilight Zone.”

[daandyli0n]

hey fnaf fans!

um. came to a discovery that maybe everyone else has at this point, but due to Fic Writing Reasons™ (read it here, it's already got a couple of chapters and i'm really proud of it :]) i decided to look up more on My Grandfather's Clock, which, for those of you who are unaware, is the song that The Puppet's Music Box plays in Fnaf 2. y'know, the music box that keeps you from dying.

well. more accurately, the music box plays part of My Grandfather's Clock. i decided to see if there were any lyrics to it. and, sure enough, there are!

but what i find interesting is the lyrics that line up with the particular section that The Puppet's Music Box plays:

"Ninety years without slumbering, tick tock tick tock,

his life seconds numbering, tick tock tick tock.

But it stopped short, never to go again,

when the old man died."

(words in bold are Lyrics Of Interest)

so um. interesting choice of that section, i'm wondering if that was intentional.

also, i'm noticing that there could technically be two meanings here if this was intentional:

it's meant to be a very subtle nod to the fact that you need to keep this music box wound up or your seconds are very much numbered (in other words, you will die)

William. Afton. we're still not sure exactly why the music box needs to be wound, or why The Puppet kills us if it runs out. but like. what if the lyrics give us a clue? what if, once Afton is defeated for good, nobody will need the music box to calm The Puppet anymore? because Charlie is finally at rest? (see the lyrics: "But it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died.")

anyway. something that i noticed about The Music Box. again, might be a bit late to this, but i just noticed this while doing Fic Research of all things. :]

[twilightzonecloseup]

Born OTD in 1911: Bernard Herrmann

Herrmann, now likely best known for his composing work for Alfred Hitchcock, made significant contributions to the overall tone and mood of The Twilight Zone.

By the time Twilight Zone came about, Herrmann was already an old hand at CBS—starting at CBS radio in the 1930s.

At CBS radio, he worked with Orson Welles on Mercury Theatre on the Air & The Orson Welles Show.

Also at CBS, Herrmann met his wife, Lucille Fletcher.

Her name might sound familiar as well, as she wrote the original story for the classic Twilight Zone episode, "The Hitch-hiker!"

Originally the story was produced as a radio drama starring Welles, it’s the only episode of Twilight Zone to be adapted from radio.

[Listen to Welles in the Suspense production of The Hitch-hiker]

If you want to create a little watchlist for yourself in honor of his birthday, here are the episodes Herrmann wrote & conducted the music for:

1.01 Where Is Everybody

1.05 Walking Distance

1.07 The Lonely

2.06 Eye of the Beholder

3.26 Little Girl Lost

5.06 Living Doll

5.12 Ninety Years Without Slumbering

[mirrormannequin]

I can sing. Too :).

🎶Ninety years without slumbering, Tick, tock, tick, tock, His life seconds numbering, Tick, tock, tick, tock, It stopped short Never to go again, When the old man died.🎶

Song :)

[goldenfreddys]

september ‘04, cont.— ninety years without slumbering

While Jeremy had been too shaken in the morning to fully form a first impression of the daytime security guard, Mike Schmidt, he now had his bearings enough to know that they probably wouldn’t get along. He absently picked at the edge of the fresh nicotine patch on his wrist with his thumb.

“We’re here, babe.” Nadia reminded him.

“... Do you think it’s too early?”

“Dunno. I think that guy might be waiting to let you in… Or rob you? Not sure.”

She gestured to a figure by the entrance of the pizzeria. It was Mike, he assumed. He tried not to seem too nervous as he squeezed Nadia’s hand goodbye and got out of the passenger seat.

There was a weird smell as Jeremy approached the other guard, kind of like someone sprayed a “tropical” scented air freshener on a dead animal.

“You’re late.”

Jeremy checked his watch, “I’m fifteen minutes early.”

“Try to make it twenty.”

The way Mike postured himself felt familiar in a way he couldn’t place. He vaguely reminded him of a pre-teen boy trying to act tough on the playground. Maybe even one specific pre-teen boy, though he couldn't be bothered to fully recall it.

The main room was half-lit when they entered, which was thankfully enough light to navigate by. It was strange to think that he used to hang out here, albeit over a decade and a few thousand dollars of renovations ago. He wondered if any of his old drawings made the cut— “Bonnie on a Desert Island Submitting to Cannibalistic Desire” by S.J. Fitzgerald, crayon on lined paper. Probably not, considering all the drawings plastering the hallway seemed relatively new and that particular piece was confiscated by a psychiatrist shortly after. Bummer.

“Listen, I’m not trying to be hard on you, but there's things you need to understand. The night shift isn't for the faint of heart, and it pays like shit.” Mike muttered as they entered the office, “If you make it through this week, I might be able to switch you over to days, but I'm not making any promises yet.”

“Wasn't my first choice, either. I wanted to be a sales associate at Hot Topic.”

He sighed. At least at the mall, he could tell himself he was carving his own path in life. He was sure Freddy’s was a pure nepotism hire.

The phone began ringing not long after they settled into the office. It was a beige landline with a regular numerical keypad, which meant it was a bit dated, but not ancient. Jeremy remembered the hiring manager had called him the other night to give some brief information on the job.

“Uh, hello? He-”

He flinched as the call suddenly dropped. Mike had reached over and pressed down on the switch.

“You don’t need him,” Mike stated with disdain.

Jeremy nodded. He wasn’t sure he needed Mike, either, unless there were several other pages of the job responsibilities booklet he hadn’t been given.

“Alright, let me think… First off, the Freddy head. You’re gonna need to put that on if any of the bots get in the office, n’ leave it on ‘til they leave. Doesn’t work on Foxy, and I assume it won’t work on the Puppet, either. You can get Foxy to fuck off by flashing your light at him a bit. The Puppet doesn’t leave the prize corner until it’s quiet, so you can keep the music box wound up. There’s a button on the monitor for you to do it remotely.” Mike demonstrated by flipping to the prize counter camera and holding down the spacebar on the clunky mechanical keyboard to wind up the box, “The hallway’s gonna be a main point of entrance for a lot of the animatronics, but keep an eye on the vents too. I got Chucky to put some cams down there, n’ you can light ‘em up with the keypad to check. Got all that?”

Jeremy paused, “... Not really. First off, why are the robots coming to the office? And why would that be a problem?”

Mike seemed so flabbergasted that he immediately started to second guess whether or not those were, indeed, valid questions to be asking. He began to review what a security guard was in his head before Mike spoke again.

“Because they want to kill you.”

He sounded stern and urgent in a way that tended to easily bypass Jeremy’s critical thinking skills. He mulled over the possibility for a moment.

“... Like, actually? Or are you messing with me?”

With a huff, Mike handed him the empty bear head and gestured for him to put it on. It smelled like an unwashed gym jersey. Jeremy held it in his hands, then looked up at Mike with his most powerful pathetic expression. It was a pure, unadulterated, ‘you wouldn’t do this to me on my birthday, would you?’ kind of look that sometimes disarmed people enough to admit they were just teasing him.

“Hey, hey- we do not have time for that, buddy. Just put it on, ‘kay? I'll explain later, I promise.”

Whatever comfort Jeremy could've derived from knowing his psychic attack had succeeded was immediately cancelled out by the conclusion that Mike was, in fact, sincere. With that, he relented and put on the bear head.

Mike reached down to one of the desk drawers and pulled out a similar hollowed-out animatronic head, though he couldn't quite make out what it was meant to be. He could see the other guard flicking between a couple different camera views on the monitor, checking the vents, then shining the flashlight down the hall. Suddenly, Mike went still and held his finger up, as if to shush him, before pulling on the orange costume head.

Heavy footsteps entered through the hallway, loud and laborious. The footsteps lurched to a stop in front of the desk, accompanied by the unmistakable creak of rusted metal. Jeremy slowly turned his head towards the source of the noise.

It took him a moment within the visual limitations of the rank-smelling bear head to piece together what he was looking at; two vibrant red pinpricks from a backdrop of darkness, fraying wires reaching down towards a jutting row of blunt teeth. The lights flickered overhead. Clearly, the desert island he had condemned Bonnie to many years ago had done a number on the poor thing, he thought.

Bonnie subtly hunched to glare a bit more pointedly toward Jeremy, and before he could think to stop himself, he whispered an apology. The damaged animatronic went still. After a long pause, Bonnie drew back and shambled out of the office again.

Once the rabbit was gone, Mike took off his mask and quickly paged between the cameras on the monitor again, this time stopping to rewind the music box at the prize corner.

“... You can take it off, now. But stay alert.”

Jeremy took a deep breath of fresh air once the Freddy head was off. The strong adrenaline rush still coursed through him as he tried to get his bearings.

Finally, the orange Foxy head Mike had been wearing was in proper view. Things were starting to click together in his head.

“... Michael? I thought your last name started with an A. Michael Ahh-something.”

“Do I know you?”

“Not really. I-I mean…” He paused, realizing he’d messed up, “No? No. Not at all, is what I meant.”

“Sure, that's not ominous.”

Just like that, the subject was dropped– for now. For good, if he was lucky.

Though the circumstances were nerve-wracking, Mike settled into a kind of rhythm as the night went on, as though the whole song and dance was second nature. Left vent, right vent, hall. Prize corner, party room, parts & service, and so on. Mask on. Wait. And off. He interjected, sparingly, when he noticed Jeremy’s attention was wavering by describing various aspects of the security system and building layout.

“Don’t vents usually have grates?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah.”

“... Why are they so big and close to the floor?”

Mike repeated, “Yeah.”

There were a few more visitations throughout the night. Notably, the half-destroyed Toy Foxy, which Mike referred to as “Mangle”. It crackled with distorted static from within the vent for a minute or so, before skittering down to Kid’s Cove again. There was also a robot modelled after a small boy brandishing balloons, which Jeremy hadn’t realized was even capable of moving until he noticed him missing from the Game Area. At that point in the night, it felt like some sort of unnecessary slight to have given the gift of autonomy to what could’ve easily been a gumball machine instead.

The six o’clock chime almost caught Jeremy off guard when it finally rang. Not because it hadn't felt like he’d just spent a six-hour shift ambiently fearing for his life without so much as a bathroom break, but because it actually ended instead of persisting like an eternal nightmare.

He slumped forward on the desk and groaned loudly as soon as he got confirmation that it was now safe to do so.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. As far as I’m concerned, you handled that all like a champ.” Mike gave his shoulder a light squeeze, which he considered a thousand leagues too fond for the amount of time they'd known each other. Nonetheless, he could let it slide for the moment.

[makaientjluvdaprince]

I just watched The Twilight Zone 5x12 "Ninety Years Without Slumbering"

[greywoodrpg]

𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦 𝕕𝕦𝕓𝕠𝕚𝕤

he inhabits a body that looks thirty-two years old but are actually ninety-eight, is an infernal-turned witch and lives in mystic grove as a tarot reader. he looks an awful lot like laith ashley.

"Fate is a funny little construct. Belief is often what manifests these directions in one way or another."

tw: death, arson

Strange how a late evening over a glass of dry whiskey and you'd get to hear his chilling warning of making deals with devils unknown and malicious entities. Beau served under the tutelage of his own mother. To this day, he still accounts for very little awareness of his coven's involvement in the dark oaths and servitude though he is completely unapologetic for his blind devotion and oaths to them. She'd taught him everything she'd known about "balance". It was so prominent that the coven had very exceptions to allowing scales to become "odd". He was not allowed to practice but even he was educated on the darkness that consumed some of their kind. But much like balance, there is a price to pay for the actions we choose. Age started to consume them with the search for extending lifespans and deceleration of maturation. As the matriarch, Beau's mother sought the guidance of an Infernal. Some warned of their trickery- how his words are filled with the sweetened poison one would ever encounter. They'd grant them their wish in exchange for a drop of her blood. A simple barter. He'd teach them everything they'd need to know about sacred arts to attain more life. She'd ponder it over and even discuss it with the elders of the coven. They deciphered every breath of the Infernal and assumed it was very few consequences. He knew their obsessive personalities and addictive spirits would make them blind to this entities' ambitions. "There comes no-good from the whispering wisps that weave in the shadow of secrets." Every eve, the Infernal entity would meet. Interest had been established. Some became smitten by their silky persuasion. How could one attain clarity while judgment was being clouded by empty yet heavy promises. They'd all account of these vivid dreams to which they'd claim were divine premonitions. Beau foretold them of his slumbers being void of either repose or ruin. He'd advise against continuing until they'd attain more information about this entity. Though, the secret vows of our progenitors always tend to surface while the consequences are bestowed upon those that do not wish. They never really got to see the finality of their blind devotion to a promise unfulfilled. In fact, bloodlines ended upon that waning moon. Some sacrificed themselves weighing every single consequence upon their own future generations for the reward was never a balanced concept. Time has numbed the pang that courses his veins. Their voice has drawn quiet in these latter years- though he can still feel them looming. Perhaps visions and dreams of their visits toy with his awareness. Get Beau intoxicated enough and he just may spill of the series of events that plagued his coven over that night. After the dust settled, Beau chose to burn what remained of his former home and life, taking the two or three artifacts with him. He'd finally settle in Greywood- hoping to find a way to break this blood-ritual. That is, if it's worth the effort to relive the torment endured becoming or if he even survives it. Who knows. Being here just may open a few more paths into some unknown ventures.

“what power did he attain when settling in greywood?”

Beau has attained the ability to utilize life-force manipulation without necessarily having physical contact within a range of a mile. It allows him enhance rituals and spell-casting. Though some remain as basic as reading energies or changing eye or hair color, many of these tie into augmenting dark magic which he tries to limit due to his fears of losing himself. Should the connection be strong enough, he is able to leave a "print" to which he may establish a mental connection or even "feel" certain stimuli and emotions. Immense concentration and exertion allows him to extend his own energy fields and enhance another witch for a limited amount of time before they both return to their prior states.

penned by... al

[ghostmanblog]

The Twilight Zone 1959 s5 e 12 Ninety Years Without Slumbering

[kazooreal]

be careful what you wish for

(spontaneous funny little writing)

'To make the others around me happy,' they said. I found myself pondering it even know. My scruffy hair grazed the back of my neck, and I turned ninety degrees so that my head was buried in my pillow. It was warm, and the thick blankets enclosed around me made my hands sweaty. God, how am I supposed to sleep like this... I guess that would've been the type of wish I would make too, without hesitation, but that applies to me some years ago. Does that mean that they have a childish way of thinking? No, it can't be that, it probably means I'm just more.. experienced and realising. That's a bad way to put it. No. I'm the strange one, not them. As this debate ping-ponged back and forth in my head, I only became more exhausted. It's such a stupid wish. They would regret it. Or.. maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they would finally be content and happy with the person they were. After all the suffering and depression, this one boon cured it all. Yes, that would be a nice feeling... but why does it leave a bitter taste in my mouth? Maybe because humans need credit as well, since I've certainly worked my ass off only trying to make them happy. Would I miss their sadness? Their guilt? Because.. 'If it was suddenly gone, you would have no purpose anymore, isn't that right?' I thought to myself. Sometimes looking at myself from another perspective cleared the swelling storms in my mind. Now it seemed as if I was pitying myself. It wasn't really a terrible feeling, and I'm the person who has caused myself this feeling most of the time. 'Now you're rambling. You should sleep.' Alright then, other me, I'll shut up just for you. Shut up and sleep. I turned so that I was now lying on my side, and breathed in the air in my bedroom. My eyes were pressed tightly shut. ..I hope they never get the chance to make that wish, because they make me happy as it is..! But.. it's not uncommon that my heart shudders when they come to mind.. I'm too tired to think any more, and as my mind drifts off to slumber, the ache in my chest gradually softens, but never fully fades.

[nattwatchestwilightzone]

S05 E12 - Ninety Years Without Slumbering

An old watchmaker who doesn't sleep ans is obsessed with fixing clocks arround the house.

Ah the clock was built on the same day the watchmaker was born, I wiuld guess he sees himself on it. Needs to keep it in perfect condition because if it breaks it means he also will die.

The whole dialog between him and his spirit is so great!

Ok so he lets go of his belief and gets to sleep and keep living.

[theselfcarezone]

self care is keeping a grandfather clock running