Tumgik
#trauma broadcast
cemeterything · 3 months
Text
made it through another work shift with my violent head trauma intrusive thoughts remaining thoughts and not manifesting physically on my body 😁👍
356 notes · View notes
astralcities · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
i should've staked him
206 notes · View notes
tmascfaggot · 6 months
Text
sexualizing ur trauma cuz u've gone thru all the other motions with it by now what else is there left to do
29 notes · View notes
Text
you say the whole world's ending (honey, it already did) (Trobed)
"It has to be okay for it to get on a boat with Lavar Burton and never come back."
This wasn't supposed to be a tragedy. This wasn't supposed to end like this.
He was supposed to end up with Britta. Or Annie. Anyone, really, it didn't matter, as long as he stayed. As long as the Dreamatorium still functioned.
(As long as you got to love him through movie nights and pillow fights and butter noodles and Armageddon.)
You don't know when you began to lose Him. It wasn't to the Air Conditioner Repair School. It wasn't to the Great Pillows-And-Blankets war.
It wasn't Pierce. Not truly. Pierce was never important enough to sever that tie.
He needed to be his own man. He needed to go on his own adventure.
And you?
You are floating. Drifting. You cannot find your plot. You cannot thread together the character arcs that once guided you. You are pulled and pushed and the world falls apart. He turns and hugs you and the one person who you counted on to always understand you, all of the tangled film reels making up your brain, gets on a boat with Lavar Burton and never comes back.
The color seeps from the world. The color grading fades to a grayish, sickly shade. The wide shots disappear in favor of mid-range shots centered around one location, the study table, but it's not a bottle episode in the fun way. It's not. The apocalypse has arrived, not in fire and nuclear war, but instead The Road style, all depressing grays and cold blues.
The shenanigans continue, sure. Of course they do. The show is barreling towards something- or, perhaps, it's limping. So many parts of it have been chewed away, stolen by other networks. First Pierce, a wound to the arm you could sustain and sew up with a few stitches and then move on.
But then Him. Then the other half of yourself, the part you clung to throughout so many potential apocalypses before, gets on a boat, stepping into freedom and his own spin-off, and you are handcuffed to a filing cabinet for the crime of being strange. Of your senses being too sensitive. Of you being finally understood and- not loved, not appreciated, but shown kindness.
It's wrong for others to show you kindness. It's wrong for others to accommodate you.
You are not made to be accommodated. You are made to mocked and shoved and forced into the cookie-cutter hole that society has forced upon you.
You stop getting up to adventures. You stop searching out whimsy. Your delight got on a boat and abandoned you.
You retreat behind your camera. You enter your corner and you never leave. You lock away the corner of your mind that contains the Dreamatorium.
You are still handcuffed to the wall of that locker, aren't you? He found you at Inspecticon, but he lost you in the lava. A clone emerged, a perfected copy, who is bound by metal and lava and zombie bites and the knowledge that you were a whole person before Him but a jagged wound after Him.
You stop reaching out. You leave him at an unanswered "I love you." You cannot bear to seek and not find, to be rebuffed in person once again by the one person you once gave your bleeding heart to.
He doesn't come back. He is never coming back.
Pierce is gone. Shirley is gone. He is gone. Frankie and Elroy are here, and they're nice, but it's not the same.
You wish the lava had cauterized the wound in your heart. You wish that the world had allowed you to move on without a constant pain tearing itself into your chest.
There is only one answer you can give yourself now. There is only one way your story can end.
You leave the study room for the final time and you look back and the table has so many empty seats. So many holes that need to be filled.
You close your eyes, tears burning the backs but refusing to fall, and you lay his name behind you. You will not take it with you. You cannot bear to take it with you. You cannot carry this weight alone. You must leave this hurt behind, even if it means abandoning your heart in Greendale just like He once abandoned you.
The door falls shut. The curtain falls. The credits play.
The show is over. The tragedy has run its course, you at the center, you the fool, you the crushed body, you the director who packs everything up and ends the story.
No one is interested in seeing your heart anymore, if they ever were in the first place.
***
(Years later, a man will step foot off of a boat. He is late. Far too late. He should have returned ages ago. He has a beard and a few new scars and he is wiser and more worn but his eyes shine like they always did.
He stops in Greendale and is told that you left years ago. That he has missed his chance. That he is better off returning to Air Conditioner Repair and not wondering where you went.
You have drifted. You have left. You have turned your back on a world that turned its back on you.
But He is far more stubborn than you give him credit for. He turned the world over for himself, but also for you. For the spin-off you always begged for.
He picks up your heart from beneath the study table, cradles it close, and resolves to return it to you. He will bring you the keys to the handcuffs. He will bring you understanding. He will bring you butter noodles and a smile that never wavers. Not for you.
It will take time to reestablish trust, to unravel trauma and an ache as deep and old as the life you have survived, but he will do it. He would follow you anywhere, you know? He was delayed, detoured, but you were always the end goal.
He will eventually return his hands to repair. He likes helping people, and likes fidgeting with his hands, so why not?
But right now, he turns on his heel and heads straight for the airport. He has a plane to L.A. to catch.)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/48569731
37 notes · View notes
cb-reblog · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
9 notes · View notes
anzadosara · 4 months
Text
what about dangerously yours
7 notes · View notes
coockie8 · 4 months
Text
we need to re-normalize just saying "not really your business now is it?" when asked wildly personal questions from complete fucking strangers out of nowhere
9 notes · View notes
gxlden-angels · 11 months
Note
Did you hear that 700 club guy is dead? I'm going to buy myself some cake and celebrate that my apostasy has outlived my memory of his voice. Felt like you might wanna celebrate too :3
Tumblr media
HELL YEA I HEARD! WE'RE POPPING THE BIGGEST BOTTLES TONIGHT YALL
17 notes · View notes
furby-organist · 3 months
Text
> Heard, over Local Alastor's airwaves:
> "♪ Why you so obsessed with me? ♫"
> The sound of him shooting a Vox drone with a gun <3
5 notes · View notes
Text
PSA for people in abusive places.
PSA to abuse victims. US residents, all cell phones will issue a loud emergency alarm on Oct. 4th around 2:20 EST. This article can help you out
6 notes · View notes
Text
Whumptober #17: Hanging By A Threat
Option: Breaking Point
A leant against the console, exhaustion taking over and their joints stiff and aching. Their bruised hand slammed against the broadcast button, and they glared daggers into the camera through hooded, bloodshot eyes.
"This is [Leaders name] of the [ship/organisation]. [Enemy], you've killed my colleagues. You killed my family. And now you've taken the last thing I hold close: my crew. That will be the last mistake you will ever make. I am coming for you, and I will stop at nothing until they are returned to me."
41 notes · View notes
astralcities · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
astarion pulls a knife on you literally one second after meeting him. and then non consensually eats your blood in the middle of the night. I think people truly might have other reasons for killing your pixel man in a video game than him being a little flamboyant
14 notes · View notes
tmascfaggot · 1 month
Text
fun strange fact about me: i love an angel kink totally absolutely we know this i am an angel BUT i cannot. and i mean Can Not handle anything to do with fallen angels. will start screaming and crying. typing that even made me nervous
7 notes · View notes
corbinite · 1 year
Text
Ecofascism is "environmentalism" through the lens of blood and soil. It's about the "purity" of what you put in your body, of the people who own a land, and of the land itself. It's about not wanting to be "tainted" by "savagery" (note this is not nonviolence even if it tries to look like nonviolence). It's about land Belonging to white people and white people being entitled to a version of stewardship through dominance and blood ties. And at its core it's about ownership over nature and over the people who are degraded to be seen as less human and therefore "ownable". That's why ecofascists treat marginalized people as if they were invasive species.
Veganism is about nonviolence. That's it. It takes many forms but it is inherently about nonviolence and a REJECTION of ideas about any hierarchical nature of humanity or the earth. Veganism is not eating plant based because it's more "pure" or "wholesome" or even because it's less environmentally impactful on average. It's just a commitment to nonviolence.
How many of you claiming that veganism is ecofascism can actually list off the traits of ecofascism? Was my first paragraph the first time you've actually seen the word defined instead of just being used as a vague "veganism is colonialism because of [insert whichever factoid you wanna play telephone with this time]"? Was it the first time you heard an explanation of what it was past "well the maga shaman guy didn't eat meat so you connect the dots"? (which wasn't even true, he eats *organic* and that includes meat). Do you think you can identify and fight ecofascism without a working definition of the ideology? Let me clarify, I'm not even saying your definition is wrong. I'm saying you don't have one. If you don't actually have a model of what ecofascists BELIEVE IN to reference, do you think you can pretend to be an authority on how to fight them? The end goal of ecofascism is genocide justified as "fighting overpopulation" and "keeping the land under its rightful protectors. It has to be actively and competently opposed at all costs. You cannot be an activist on vibes alone. You certainly can be a reactionary though.
46 notes · View notes
byronicbi · 2 months
Text
i'm gonna start a collection of my favorite AO3 tags for real. over the past week it's been a close race between "wrote this because i can't go to hell fast enough" and "doves are not the only thing dead in here"
that said, i'm starting to see a trend where people use "dead dove do not eat" as shorthand for "there's problematic content in here" and a kind reminder that that's not what that means. dead dove just means "this fic contains exactly what it says in the tags" which is not at all the same thing.
4 notes · View notes
somethings-diner · 8 months
Note
How about some waterboarding first before the shock? You know, so he'll be wet when we shock him!
NO! PLEASE! WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE THIS!?
Tumblr media
4 notes · View notes