#tv objectum

Tv techum stimboard

📺 🩶 📺

📺 ⚪ 📺

by the way he talks both to and about me I can tell he thinks I'm stupid for hugging one of our phones to calm it out of its glitching episodes even though IT LITERALLY WORKS-

he's trying to convince me to sell some of the tech we have to be able to afford repairs for the other ones (which I GUESS makes sense in theory if you don't understand I love themb,,)

but he's a boomer both literally and spiritually so what am I to expect, right? at least he's not against any of the """"normal"""" things I identify as like aroace or nonbinary 🙄🙄🙄

but noooo he just can't grasp that I feel the same way about technology the way one would about close friends.

- ♟💭, if that's not taken

This is anti-objectum.

Hypnovember 2025 13 - Dream/Late Night

Michael woke to the feeling of his head banging into the steering wheel and he slammed on the breaks in a panic. In his exhaustion, he’d nodded off at the wheel and veered into a patch of parched grass on the side of the road. He sat there shaking for a moment, adrenaline shocking the tiredness from his system. He needed to get some rest.

He pulled out his phone and searched for nearby lodging. Nothing. He didn’t want to sleep in his car, but it didn’t look like he had a choice, until he caught a glimpse in his rearview mirror.

The motel sign loomed high above in neon red. The fact that he hadn’t noticed it scared him. How long had he been sleep-driving this two ton death machine? He took a breath, turned around, and headed for the sanctuary of the motel.

The place was so old it still had signs advertising “COLD AIR” and “COLOR TV.” The neon red cast an eerie glow over the parking lot.

Michael had no desire to stay in a place like this, but the alternative was a night in his car, where anyone could look in his windows through the black night. The thought gave him a sinking, creeping feeling. At least this motel had locked doors, curtains over the windows. It was better than the alternative.

$45 for a night. The man at the check-in desk gave him a solid, metal key with a plastic fob. The front said his room number, 8. The back had the name in faded, white paint: Late-Nite Motel.

His room was cool and dry. Air conditioned, as advertised. A single square room with a bed. A cabinet hiding the TV. A cramped bathroom at the back. It had gaudy, orange wallpaper adorned with red stars. He didn’t want to think about what lurked in the shag rug.

He was still shaking when he laid on the hard bed. Though he’d tried to calm himself, showered, changed into a comfortable t-shirt, that rush of adrenaline from the near-accident still coursed through his veins. He needed a distraction. He opened the TV cabinet.

“When was the last time they updated these rooms?” He muttered to himself upon seeing the dusty CRT monitor. It was impressive they’d kept the ancient fatback in working order, if it was as old as it looked.

He turned it on and heard the nostalgic click, the brief, high-pitched whine, as it illuminated with static. He hadn’t seen a screen like this since his childhood. He ran a hand over it, feeling the familiar electric tingle. It was pleasant. It reminded him of renting VHS tapes from Blockbuster, watching cartoons on Saturday, keeping the TV on long past midnight because he was terrified of the silence of his old bedroom at night.

He changed the channel. More static. Another channel was completely black. Another seemed to be a news program, but it was so shrouded in snow that it was difficult to make out. Another static channel, under which he could almost make out what sounded like Spanish. It seemed that they had not kept the TV in working order after all.

With a sigh, he switched it off and bundled himself into the bed. He shut his eyes. He tried to count backwards from 10, and when he was still awake, he did so again and again and again until his mind was consumed by quiet sleep.

He wasn’t sure when he had opened his eyes, or when he’d sat up in his bed. In one moment, he was drifting through quiet unawareness. And then he was aware. And he was looking at the TV screen.

I can play Nintendo games on her and stuff

I like her