#reader x tenna

[peachyutdr]

do you think he'd use his size shifting as an advantage to tease you when youre upset at him

[urlocaldesertdweller]

Someone needs to rip my tablet and pen away from me

[thebirdqueen]

Wasn't expecting that last Tennaling drawing(s) to do so well so here's more. Honestly these have been helping me de-stress for me. This week is busy so yeah.....I'll definitely make more (hell i don't mind ideas to be dropped for some Tennaling doodles at anytime)

[Click for better quality]

[handsomesangel]

this is what possessive soultenna/readerxtenna looks like to me honestly

[this-blog-has-a-purpose]

Imagine doing something on your computer, and then suddenly you need to look away. When you turn back, you see Tenna's big head on the table beaming at you, your computer screen nowhere in sight. And Tenna just goes:

"Beep boop, I'm just your 'puter, darl'! Let's get back to work!" Of course, while wagging his cord tail behind him. (Pay him the kiss tax to get your computer screen back.)

[blueheavenmilkshake]

defernull tenna thoughts // tw implied murder or bodily harm. mentions of defernull Tenna's gun. ari is so horribly down bad for the evil tenna.

His teeth we so sharp, his fangs so pointed as they dragged slowly up and down your neck.

Tenna could practically feel the way your blood was pumping, pooling just underneath your skin.

He can practically hear it, thrumming in your veins and arteries. Hot, vicious, dripping. Liquid gold hidden behind a few layers of skin.

But what are a few layers of skin to Tenna?

To the Tenna. Lord of Screens. Practically feared by his pathetic little employees.

A few layers of your skin was nothing.

Other than a slight nuisance.

One that could easily be dealt with.

Sharp claws digging in your sides as his stomach pressed against your back.

Pin pricks of blood seeping from where his nails unknowingly punctured your sides.

"I could tear you to shreds." His voice was low, almost seductive, as his nails dug in,

"Just..."

Pressing tighter, once,

"Like..."

Pushing harder, twice,

"This..."

Nails digging, thrice.

You body chilled as you shivered unconsciously.

Tenna's smirk grew, a sadistic one that was mean and full of cruelty. "Be good." He mumbled, pressing ever so slightly closer, the feeling of the coolness of his gun against your back making your blood chill.

"We don't have any problems then."

☕ buy me a coffee?

taglist [OPEN] : . . . empty !

© blueheavenmilkshake. do not steal, copy or use any of my work for ai

[swatch-on-my-watch-mdni]

Desperation

Since you asked to be tagged: @tennatail, hope you enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

Tenna locked you up in a gacha ball. You try your best to escape.

Word count: 3545

Warning/Context: Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, NSFW, NSFT, (Accidental) Wireplay, not as much sex as I wanted it to have, Desperate Tenna, Soul, Reader is not Kris, Restraints, Soul has tendrils, Gender-Neutral Reader, it's basically tentacle hentai, but also not really

No beta I literally exorcised this fic from my mind

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You stared out of your transparent prison with tired eyes.

A week has passed since Tenna, your beloved television you shared your lonely nights with, took away your freedom.

You wanted to hate him. You should've hated him for doing this to you. He put you into a giant gacha ball, like you were some kind of toy he could play with whenever he wanted to. Is this how he felt when you decided against watching him on certain nights? Even when on the next you gave him all your attention? All your excitement to finish a show?

To his credit, he seemed to try to make you happy. Tried to make your "cell" more comfortable with pillows and blankets. His screen streamed only your favourite movies, with no ad breaks! True, in their place he always asked about your thoughts on them, like he cared. You almost found it endearing.

At the end of the day, he cradled the ball in his hands. You could feel his warmth through the tough plastic. Some days it was suffocating you, on others, it lulled you to sleep.

You couldn't hate him. Had he been a bit more patient, more trusting, you would've happily visited him in the Dark World on the weekends and holidays. Heck, he could've convinced you to stay on your own volition. Instead, he had to pull this crap.

When he was away, you tried everything in your power to escape. One time you were so close. When Tenna first took you back to his office, he put you on a small pedestal on a shelf. You managed to roll the ball off onto the floor, and it popped open with ease, but a very small part broke off at one of the halves, which Tenna didn't notice in the end. The little trick left you with minor injuries. As luck would have it, Tenna came back, just as you were about to make a run for it. He scooped you up with the two halves of the ball and closed it back. The way he scolded you and worried about how you could've died was bittersweetly comforting.

Now, the ball was glued onto the middle of his desk. Literally. It looked ugly, but that's the least Tenna could care about if it meant your "safety" was guaranteed.

In your heart you knew there was a way out. There had to be. This thought was the only this feeding into your determination to not accept your current predicament. Thinking about it now, you could feel your very SOUL pulse within you-... wait... your SOUL!

An idea bloomed in your mind. You reminded yourself of the first day you set foot in the studio, and some arrogant Pippin challenged you to a fight. In the end, you sort of just became friends, but you remembered how your SOUL became your weapon to fight back then. Perhaps now, it could be your aid to escape?

"How do I... get it out though?" You wondered. Your determination lit your chest up; you could clearly see your very essence's outline. You juggled with the idea of throwing it up, but looking at your hands, you decided for a more painful but... less messy route. Nevertheless, this was going to get weird.

"Here goes nothing."

As hard as you could, you dove your hand into your chest. Your SOUL felt like fire, so you pulled it out as fast as you could. You could feel your consciousness slip from your body and into your SOUL. At a point, you saw your body lay down, as if it was getting ready to sleep.

Once fully settled in your new... "body", you pushed yourself through the small hole. To your utmost joy, you slipped right out. This was perfect. Even if Tenna returned, he'd think you just fell asleep (surely). Without a second thought, you bolted for the door and tried to jingle the doorknob with your small "soul hands". It was a tiring task. Sadly, the door was key locked anyways.

"Of course it is."

You turned to your other planned escape route. A vent. The bolts on its covering were thankfully loose enough that you could open it with your dainty "soul-hands". You slipped inside the metal halls, feeling proud and hopeful.

The ventilation system of this building seemed to be rather simple. The airduct from Tenna's office opened straight to the rooftop. Unfortunately, there was nothing up there that could help you free your actual body, so you decided to go back into the building through the stairs. Luckily, no one used them at this time, so you could easily sneak into a hallway and into the nearest dressing room. You figured you could find some tools there to help you escape. However, you only found costumes. On the bright side, you found a very cool cowboy hat, but it was too big for you to take it with you now.

Your next stop was the dressing room next door. Its door was already opened. As soon as you set foot inside, you bolted out of there, as you didn't wish to disturb the shadow guys putting socks on each other. Plus, they would've alerted someone.

All the other rooms on the floor were locked, so you had to descend some levels. On one floor, a weirdly luminating trashcan caught your attention. Digging through it, you found a well decorated glass vial, with a tag on it. 'Liquid Light, something for the SOUL~' was written on it with golden letters. Given that its appearance was abnormal, you decided to pocket it.

On the ground floor Tenna almost spotted you, but you managed to hide by a red wall just in time, that had a conveniently heart-shaped hole at the bottom. He was huffin' and puffin', while going to the Green Room.

"Was Mike late with his drink again?" You wondered. Not giving anymore thoughts to it, you sneaked into the backstage. It was after hours, so the chance of someone spotting you was pretty low now. Digging through props and sets, you finally found a wooden sword. With the right force, you could use it to break bigger chunks off the gacha ball. You felt joy for the first time this week.

Alas, it was short lived.

"Look it' here, folks!" Rang the terrifyingly familiar through the backstage, as a bird cage fell upon you. Panic began to build up in you, as slow heavy footsteps approached. Tenna's tall silhouette loomed over you.

"How was your walk, darling? Managed to stretch out your legs? Keep circulation moving?" He asked, as if taunting you. You could tell that he was genuinely angry. His screen was black. You could see the reflection of your small self, inside your new prison. His antennas, still. No excited twitching upon seeing you.

You were scared.

"Dear, where did you get this stupid idea in your head? Sending your SOUL out?" Hearing the joyous tone in his voice as he crouched to your level made you feel cold. "What if someone saw you? I can't be responsible if someone tries to... get you for themselves." A gloved hand started to caress the bars. His claws slowly began to stretch the fabric covering them as he flexed his fingers over the metal. "Though, I also can't be responsible for what happens to 'them' after..." He finished with a short chuckle, and his toothy smile splitting the abyss on his face.

Tenna quickly slid his large hand under the cage; the other held it by the top. "Let's get you back, okay? Seeing your body out cold almost gave me a fright, you know?" His screen lit back up, a softer smile drawing across. Slowly, you backed away from him. Without almost noticing, you slid right out of the cage.

"Ah..." You breathed. The bars were too far apart from each other.

You and Tenna stared at each other in slight disbelief. You figured you can continue being confused a bit farther away from him.

"EY! GET BACK HERE!" Tenna shouted. He threw the cage to the ground and ran after you.

You made sharp turns at corners, bolted into rooms full of props, but Tenna someone always managed to almost corner you. At the first sight of an open vent, you slid inside and shut the cover. When Tenna realised that he lost sight of you, you could see him getting scared. He tried to coo you out of your hiding spot, but you knew better. Even when he was close to actually cry, you hardened your heart.

'I have to get out.' you repeated.

'He tries to manipulate me.' you reminded yourself. When Tenna began sobbing, you decided to move forward, which was actually up, just above your pursuer. You thought knowing where he actually was while looking for an exit is a good plan.

"Y/N... please, come back..." He whined, looking around. You wanted to pick up your speed, but you feared that he would hear you. Those antennas weren't just for show.

"I'm sorry, if I scared you! I won't punish you for sneaking out. Just come back. Please!" He sobbed. You two managed to reach a dead end at a hallway. You decided to sit there, until Tenna left.

"Y/N... I..."

He hiccupped one final time, before he turned to leave.

'I won't watch dramas for a week, that's for sure. Hearing him cry is more than eno-'

The metal plate below you gave up, causing you land on the ground with a loud clank. Startled, you looked up at your CRT headed friend. He didn't turn around. Slowly, you made your way towards him, thinking maybe you could slip past him. He quickly lifted an arm up, then he snapped his fingers. You almost walked into the wall of stars that appeared in front of him, making you effectively trapped again. Now with him. You heard as he let out a relieved sigh. His screen turned to you.

You made you way back to the wall, knowing well that this time you had no means of escape.

"Found you~" Tenna cooed, with his fangs glistening in his smile. Fear spread through you once again.

"Come on! Let's go back." He stretched an arm toward you, claws now threateningly pointy. In a desperate attempt, you pulled the wooden sword out and pointed it at Tenna. His face gave away no emotion as he grabbed the little prop and ground it up in his hand. You hoped he was at least a little allergic to sawdust. He was not.

"I'm not going to fight you. I'm tired. Let's go!" He made another attempt at grabbing you, but that's when you remembered your other hope.

Confidently, you pulled out the vial you found in the trash can. This confused Tenna.

"What is... where did you find that?"

He didn't get an answer. You snapped the cork off and emptied the bottle. In doing so, you realize that drinking stuff straight out of a garbage can isn't a good survival strategy.

Fortunately, you didn't feel anything.

Unfortunately, you didn't feel anything. Tenna lightly shook his head.

"Dear, what am I going to do with you?" He mumbled, as he closed his hand around you. He lifted you up to his face. He opened his palm just enough so that he could see your lightly glowing form. With the claw of his thumb, he gently scratched you.

"You're so cute like this, darling..." He mumbled, his fangs poking out from under his lips. "I could eat. You. Up~" He chuckled like a bashful young man.

You were shivering at this point, fearing that he might actually just use himself as your new forever home. You stress levels elevated so high, so quickly, it started to make you feel lightheaded.

Speaking of light, your form started to emit a lot now. Tenna got so surprised he almost dropped you.

"What the- what is this?!" He screamed. At a point, you let out so much light it blinded everything around you. It died down quickly, leaving you feeling... bigger. Your form grew a lot. You felt pairs of wings wrapped around you. You also felt small tendrils poke out of you. You felt you could control them.

Tenna looked at you, mesmerised. This was probably the first time he has ever seen a SOUL reach some sort of higher form. This sight felt forbidden to him.

"So... you're still full of energy, huh?" He snickered. True to his showman persona, he straightened his posture, cracked his best smile and shot his arm up, as if calling the attention of an audience. "Well then! Let me challenge you to a REAL Physical Challenge!"

Like a wild animal, his claws tore through his glove, he flashed his fangs, and as a bonus, an extra pair of arms sprung out from his sides.

But you shared one sentiment with him. You didn't want to fight. Before he could move another inch, you wrapped your tendrils around his limbs. He almost chocked on his own spit. He tried to shake you off, wiggled as hard as he could. In turn, you tightened your coils around him, to a point you managed to pry a pained yelp out of him. With all your strength you pulled his large body to the ground, making him kneel on the hard floor carpet.

"Y/N, let me go! It... it hurts." He whined. His command fell on deaf ears. There was no way you'd let this chance go to waste. As far as you were concerned, he was a machine. Thus, there's surely a way to turn him off for long enough to allow you to escape.

You summoned more tendrils, which slid across his body in search of an "Off Button".

"Y/N? What are you doing?" Tenna asked, confused, shivering in your grasp. You couldn't find anything.

'Perhaps if I go under his clothes... wait, what am I-'

Your mental battle was cut short by Tenna, as he almost managed to pull an arm out of your coils. To stop any other surprises coming up, you lifted his upper arms above his head, while the lower pair got tied up tightly behind his back. You gave his body another tight squeeze. A scream got stuck in his throat.

You didn't let another thought stop you. You sneaked new, thicker tendrils under his shirt. To your surprise, you felt warm soft silicone against your limbs. As the new tendrils wrapped around his limbs and body, you carefully redirected the others, letting them hover over Tenna's head, like a silent threat. Looking at his screen, you noticed something puzzling.

He was puffing out short breaths, the colour darkening on the glass was almost the same as his coat. You may have forgotten to realise that perhaps, even with metal and plastic covering him, he could still feel you. Richer with this theory in mind, you promised yourself not to reach beyond his belt.

Tenna tried to fight against your hold. You instantly reprimanded him with another squeeze. You guided a long and thick tendril to coil around his torso. His tummy was plump and emitted so much warmth. You let the end rest wrapped around his neck.

"Y/N... let me-... let me go... please!" He was close to crying again. You couldn't stop now. Especially since you couldn't find anything again. Ignoring the CRT's whines and pleases, you guided the tendrils to go literally under his skin.

Under his shirt, the thicker tendrils grew out smaller ones, like a root. These smaller tendrils easily slipped under the silicone coverings of his plates, soon reaching into his wiring. At his neck the tendrils coiled around already exposed wires. The sensation made Tenna tilt his head up. The tendrils kept coiling along the wires, following their paths to his inner workings. The deeper they went, Tenna wheezed more intensely.

"Darling..." He pleaded, with another attempt to free an arm. Again, you squeezed him. He almost let out an actual scream, but you managed to gag him with a tendril just in time. His screen turned static, then completely black. It got back to normal when you weakened your coils again. You couldn't tell if he was really this desperate at getting free or...

Tenna soon got overtaken by tiredness. He slumped onto his butt, at which point you gently laid him onto his back. You moved your body above him. From there, you could see spit and tears flow off his now rosy screen, his antennas limp. You couldn't tell whether he was looking at you or dazing off. Only, that he was exhausted.

You pondered over the fact, that maybe this was your cue. You knew that once Tenna fell asleep, not even a cannon could wake him up. You noticed how the light in his screen started to dim.

You decided to end this unpleasant situation for the both of you. But when you started to retreat your limbs...

You felt Tenna catch one in his hand. He wasn't tugging on it. He simply held onto it. Gently, like one would do with their lover's hand.

A quiet sob began to bubble out of him.

"Don't... don't leave..." He whispered. When he tried to stand back up, you immediately shot your limbs back at him (except the one that was at his mouth) and held him down again.

What were you supposed to do now? If he still got energy to move, then surely, he still has some strength to chase you.

"Y/N..." He mumbled. You looked at him, waiting for him to finish. "Do you... hate me?"

You earned the right to hate him. He would've deserved it. He broke your trust and took away your freedom. But looking at this moment... you wonder if you're doing the same to him. You can't come up with a satisfying answer to that question.

You noticed his screen glisten in the dim hallway lights. He was crying.

"I... I understand..." He must've thought you agreed to his question. You ran a tendril across the top of his casing, which seemed to calm him down. You attempted to pull your limbs back, again, but Tenna was still holding onto one. You let him hold it.

"I'm sorry..." He sobbed out. "I'm so... so sorry..."

You couldn't understand what he was trying to do now.

"I-..." He continued. "-...I'll let your body out. I'll let you leave." Tears were still rolling of the glass, as he finished. "Even... even if you'll never come back."

At this point, you felt your light dim out as well. In a matter of seconds, you returned to your original size. You slid up to Tenna's head. He turned it to you his nose almost poked you.

"Just... give me a moment. Please..."

Sometime later (an hour later), the two of you were standing by his desk. Your CRT tore the gacha ball out of the dried glue, opened the capsule, then gently poured your sleeping body onto the wooden surface. Your SOUL immediately returned to its vessel. You felt as if you just woke up from an eventful dream.

Tenna kept his promise and led you to the exit of this Dark World. Without looking back at him, you returned to your home.

For the next week, you refused to watch your Tv. It was hard, as there were still many shows you wished to finish, but you wanted Tenna to feel a bit punished for what he did. For the next month, you didn't visit Tv World.

When you did return, Tenna could barely keep his hands off you. He tried. Elnina told you that every day you didn't visit he always waited by the exit, after hours of course (his workaholism still kept its hold on him). She asked you not to let him know she told you.

When his collar shifted a bit low, you could catch swift flashes of his neck wires, with very visible indents in the plastic covering them. Their sight caused guolt to pool in your guts.

Since then, months passed faster than you could realise them. Tenna got less anxious about you leaving, as he could always count on you either watching him or go straight to him.

Slowly, it got to a point where you spent your nights there. On one such night, he asked something strange from you.

"You... you want me to pull out my SOUL?"

You were reasonably confused. Tenna simply nodded.

"What does my SOUL have to do with bondage thought?"

Tenna searched through a pocket, then pulled out an awfully familiar vial. You were reminded to that day...

"It's time to go beyond my belt, sweetheart~" He teased, with an excited giggle. You swirled the contents around in the bottle.

"O-Okay, but this stuff only maintained that for like... 10 minutes tops? And you wanted to-..." Before you could finish, Tenna made his way to a closet, grabbed what looked like a small crate, then carefully dropped it in front of your foot. The inside was glowing with the number of vials it held.

"A good host is always prepared~"

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Thank you for reading!

Part 2

[limitedattennaspam]

Yellow Pages

Reader x Mr 'Ant' Tenna

Chapter List - Yellow Pages, Add Contact?, Mic Check, ...

(also on AO3, if you wouldn't mind tossing a kudo my way)

You, a 'Lightner', were pulled into the Dark World. Just for an hour the first time, but thankfully not the last. This 'TV World' was a dream-come-true for Luddites such as yourself. Oh, and the inhabitants were also kind of interesting, one more so than the others.

“And so then, this guy tries to say I should cover it under their warranty!”

The man - if that was an accurate descriptor for the person sitting across from you - roared with laughter. “He. Did. Not!”

“He did!” You reached for your glass of mysterious liquid. Whatever it was, it was highly intoxicating and made the hair stand up from your arms, like walking near a severed power line.

“Penny-pinching bastards.” Tenna shook his head slowly in amusement, taking another swig from his oversized glass. “Lightners did run some very strange commercials.” He tilted his glass in your direction. “I saw the ones Legal rejected, oodles of them, and they all ended with the same phrase: ‘call toll-free 1-800’. Folks could hardly tell ‘em apart. Which one did you have in mind?”

You let out an amused snort. “I wasn't going any more out of my way for this guy; I decided to laugh in his face and say the warranty must’ve expired decades ago.” You realized you’d made a mistake when that energetic - and apparently literally ‘award winning’ - smile froze completely motionless.

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It had been - without a shadow of a doubt - the single weirdest service call you’d ever heard, let alone been on. You’d gotten up to answer the phone one evening. “Yello?” you’d asked, cradling the receiver between your head and shoulder in order to idly thumb through an old appliance manual snagged at a garage sale the other day.

“‘Ello, luv. I’m sorry to call you last-minute, but I’m in dire need of a repair technician, y’see.” Though the call wasn’t the greatest quality, you’d picked up a distinct British accent coming from the other end.

“Ah, sorry, house visits only. Shipment is too risky for older devices. No exceptions.” You’d bring the equipment back home with you if absolutely necessary, but you didn’t trust delivery drivers. Just how they’d managed to destroy that solder kit was beyond you. Never again.

The caller laughed, “Don’t tell my boss that; ol’ Tenna very much prefers the word ‘vintage’. A specialist is what I need, and your reviews on Yelp were immaculate. It’s just he can get a bit sparky at times, if’n y’know what I mean.”

Well that was a relief, constantly worrying that some of your clients were a bit more ‘eccentric’ than the average Joe. You seemed to have a knack for winning them over, though. Hobbyist solidarity, you supposed. “Still...” Having to turn down such a polite person blows; you’d only refused service from the snootiest ‘collectors’.

“Travel’s a bit much, innit? Don’t fret, hon, we’ll be coverin’ that, too.”

“Really?” Buses were so expensive though, and what if the distance warranted a flight? No way you were any kind of famous. Besides, you’d only posted your services on local platforms, specifically to avoid this kind of thing.

“I’ll give you the quick run-down when you get here, then,” they said in obvious relief, “Ta!”

“Wait, you haven’t even given me an add-” But the line had gone dead. Huh. They’d seemed so serious that you’d decided to play along with the prank call, growing increasingly doubtful about if it even was a prank. Whoever that was - you hadn’t caught their name, either - was pretty creative. What the heck kind of name was ‘Tenna’? Maybe you just mis-heard them.

Tomorrow was a busy day, jam-packed with shopping runs; high-quality replacement parts might mean no repeat business, but the satisfaction of restoring a ‘hopelessly broken’ ‘piece of junk’ to full functionality was worth more to you than the money. ‘They just don’t make ‘em like they used to’, and all that.

A mug of hot tea sounded like the perfect accompaniment to your newfound prize. Crossing the room toward your kitchen, you heard the unmistakeable click-hum of a CRT turning on. Usually you only plugged things in to test them, how unlike you to have forgotten. When you reached the outlet, you saw that nothing was plugged in at all, and wasn’t that the one with a completely mangled power cord anyway? The light overhead flickered, stove clock resetting from the brief loss of power, before shutting off with a ‘pop’ that you sincerely hoped wasn’t fried wiring.

Severely confused, as there had been no storm of any kind, you opened your front door to see if the neighbors had been hit as well. You didn’t see anything amiss.

You didn’t see anything at all.

A quick scrub of your eyes revealed no change. Had you gone blind? You could see the faint outlines of your furniture back inside, lit by the LEDs of your assorted projects. Some had been completely disassembled, but every unit to have a display was lit up; you knew the location and status of each one precisely.

You still couldn’t see anything past the door, and after continuing to stare, you didn’t even experience the phantom flashes that accompanied cave darkness.

First one step, then another. Your foot hovered in the air, bracing to see if your stairs were just as you remembered them. It met no resistance initially, and you sighed in relief.

But no impact came, encountering none of the ledges adorning the front of your house.

“W-what?” You were plummeting through space, no wind rushing past you, but definitely falling all the same.

Unsure of such things as ‘up’ or ‘down’ or even ‘how far have I fallen’, you were on the verge of true panic when a sense of impending arrival swept over you.

You were standing, on what that surface was, you weren’t quite sure. Something about your surroundings twisted unsettlingly, unnaturally, and your senses came flooding back.

Everything looked normal, familiar even, what seemed to be some kind of office space. The ceilings were terrifyingly high, though.

A rather short man started talking from just beside you, when had he gotten there, had he been there all along?

“Mr Tenna’s working himself into a right state, ain’t he? Please,” he gestured ahead, saying your name, “follow me, quicklike.”

Obediently, and more than a little confused, you trotted after the man. Short, stocky, bushy purple hair - nothing particularly unusual there - but his face and exposed skin had a strange sheen to it, reminding you of plastic left out in the sunshine a little too long. The eyes, clearly weary from this ‘state’ that his ‘Mr. Tenna’ was in, also looked a little off, deep-set and dark without being sunken.

“Excuse me, but -” That was the same name given during that phone call, just now. They couldn’t be connected, could they? “- I didn’t catch your name. What happened, how did I get here?”

“Blimey,” he laughed, running his hand through his hair in embarrassment, “you must be right gobsmacked about now. You’re in the Dark World, and this here’s TV City. Name’s Ramb; it’s an emergency and you’re my last chance, the only one I could find.”

You silently mouthed the unfamiliar phrases, trying to make sense of them. These were places?

Ramb continued to explain, still not making a lick of sense. ‘Lightner’? ‘Real, but not in the same way’? It was made even more difficult to understand by a commotion echoing down the hall.

“Okay, sure, I get it,” you fibbed, “but what kind of ‘emergency’ involves dragging me out of my house?” That you’d exited freely and of your own volition was hardly important. The shouting was getting louder, and though you couldn’t make out the words yet, it sounded distinctly displeased. “Don’t you have some kind of in-house maintenance? Tech suppor-”

You and Ramb rounded the corner and about collided face-first with an incredibly shiny belt buckle, looking like a stylized TV. You could see your face in it and slowly tipped your head back, now aware of the source of the overly loud and far-too-exuberant-for-this-late-in-the-day voice. “- before our ratings come crashing down as well, haha!”

What in the heck? The one standing in front of you made your guide look normal by comparison - two, if not three, times your height and clad in a flamboyantly red suit with long tails flared out. What was truly weird wasn’t the man’s insane proportions, but the structure of his face: he seemed to be wearing a box on his head, one shaped like a TV, except the TV was on, and the bunny-ear antennae mounted on top were twitching in an agitated pattern as if they were alive, and there was a very large nose protruding from the screen, and also a mouth, and -

He hadn’t noticed you yet, finishing calling instructions to some unseen employee in a cheery yet menacing tone.

“Excuse me,” you repeated, starting to get fed up with being told nothing actually useful, “I’d kind of like some answers, if you people don’t mind.”

“Not now, can’t you see I’m a little busy?” His jaw was clenched as he turned to face you fully, somehow furrowing nonexistent brows in mild confusion. This man has no eyes.

He bent down for a closer look at you and frowned, evidently not liking what he saw. “Ramb!” The massive TV swiveled to the side, addressing the man beside you, “I thought I told you to find me an expert. What is a Lightner doing on my set!?”

Ramb took two casual steps forward and shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets and body angled back to meet his boss's stare in a practiced pose. “Just doing what y’ asked, Tenna.”

‘Tenna’. There the name was again. This must be that ‘sparky’ boss you’d been warned of, that apparently needed a ‘repair technician’.

“So what exactly am I doing here? No offense,” you shrugged apologetically to your guide, “but you’ve told me like literally nothing.” They couldn’t possibly... Those solder fumes must have built up, you thought, covertly pinching your arm hard for the dozenth time. Owch! You had ruled out dreaming, but it could still be a hallucination. Perhaps all the toxic gases you’ve breathed in over the years had finally reached critical levels...

“Great. Just great.” White-gloved hand on his hip, Tenna continued to glare at you, and then you saw it: his screen jittered, irregular patches glowing and dimming in rapid pace.

“In here,” he barked, shoving open the nearest door and ducking inside with a stride longer than you were tall.

You looked at Ramb, silently pleading. An out, encouragement, advice...

The - you suddenly realized what his face reminded you of, an electrical socket. At least your hallucination was consistent with its imagery - hapless worker just gave yet another shrug, an unspoken ‘What can you do?’, and jerked his head towards the door.

Seemingly with no other choice, you stepped into a richly decorated office. It should have been too much - the red, the gold, the shameless quantity of posters with a grinning TV face on it - but somehow it all blended together nicely.

Must be an executive office, pretty swanky if you said so yourself.

Ramb closed the door behind you, standing in front of it with arms folded. Was he keeping other employees from barging in, or you from leaving?

More amd more unsettled by the second, you turned to Mr Tenna pacing angrily across the room. He was snarling quietly with a staticky whine overlaying the highly creative imprecations.

You took in a deep breath, determined to resolve the core of this hallucination so your awareness could return home to your nice comfy bed. “I demand an explanation! Why did you bring me here?” You didn't care if people would comment on how rude you were being, they started it. Blunt and to the point was the only way forward.

The man paused, pivoting on one foot to face you. His glitching screen was getting worse, either because he was losing composure or because the error was compounding. Probably both.

His large shoulders were tense and he gestured to his face with a sharp motion. “I want you to find whatever’s wrong and fix it!”

Yikes. Sadly, you were used to client outbursts like this. “You don’t know what’s wrong? Can’t you just have your assistants take a look at it?”

“They. Made. It. Worse.” Even without eyes to complete an expression, you could tell your questions were only pissing off the already-agitated ‘Mr Tenna’. The projection of his teeth was gritted, and was that a tic flashing at the upper right corner of his screen?

“Understood. I’m just trying to figure out everything that led up to now.” You held your hands up, hoping he could see the calming gesture. 

“Oh, peachy!” Tenna swung an arm dramatically to gesture towards the hall door. “Some good-for-nothing stage hand didn't follow safety procedures for the ‘Scrub In’ physical challenge and an axe nearly chopped one of my dear contestant's hand off. Lucky miss, otherwise we'd need to cut to an early commercial break, ha!”

He crossed his arms in front of him, fingers and one gleaming yellow shoe tapping in rapid tempo. “Hit me instead, which was simplicity itself to play off.” The beat faltered briefly, hastening to reassure himself - not that you really cared one way or the other - of the show host’s competence before bouncing in place. “O-of course I did, and the audience loved it! Fun Meter through the roof!”

“Hit you?” Better not have been the blades end, nothing you could do about a shattered casing. “In the head?”

Multicolored error screen flashing briefly as he shook his head to clear it told you more than words ever could.

Damaged head. Head was a CRT television. You restored equipment just like that. Ergo, they called you.

“I’ve never-” You chewed on your lip; the usual service reassurance spiel would definitely come across as an insult. “I’ll definitely do my best, but you are still a little-” For emphasis, you held your index finger and thumb slightly apart, “-bit past my usual field, and I don’t want to hurt you by accident.”

Oh man, you’d kill for a quick scan of this guy’s manual. Like, actually commit homicide to get your hands on it. Sadly, you couldn't control this hallucination any more than you could lucid dream.

“Damn you, Ramb!” His gloved fist rattled the nearby desk with a frustrated pound. “Can’t you do anything r-” He cut the sentence short with another snarled curse; the room was completely empty, a door slamming far down the hall the only hint you hadn’t been alone not 15 seconds ago.

Palm now pressing flat against the poor abused furniture, Tenna dug at the side panel of his head with a free hand and groaned, “Damn it all, I can’t go on stage like this, my audience will-” He didn’t finish the thought, and didn’t seem to want to, slumping wearily against the desk - if it wasn’t his, you’d eat your left shoe.

“I- um.” How were you supposed to go about this? “I could take a look?” Please say yes. “Just see if something got knocked loose?” An unwilling visit to this ‘Dark World’ would be more than worth it if you could only catch a glimpse of how this guy ticked. Just one little peek.

Tenna didn’t respond, had he even heard you? Just before the silence became too awkward, his display flickered again, mouth glitching back and forth across the screen before reshaping with a frown. “Yeah.” His antennae drooped in resignation. “I mean, ‘yes’. After all, the show must go on! Can’t disappoint my fans over something so inconsequential!”

A confident smile brightened his screen, looking around the office with renewed purpose. “Ah, yes, perfect!”

He stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk, roughly shoving already-messy stacks of paper to the floor and flopping roughly into a fancy office swivel chair. “Right, how about this?” One extraordinarily long leg crossed casually over the other and Tenna nodded expectantly towards his cleared desk. “You should be able to reach, ah, me if you stand here.”

Now this was novel. Usually you'd have spare and disassembled parts strewn across a desk or table. Despite being used to carrying heavy loads by yourself, you barely managed to pull yourself onto the cleared surface.

The two of you stared in awkward silence, broken by the soft creak of the chair spinning around. Even seated, Tenna still had to tilt his head down slightly for you to even see.

“What the-” You whispered, stunned by the sight before you. “Who in the fuck did your cable management!?” The wires practically called to you, fingers itching to yank them all out and rearrange them in a neat, tidy, and enticing arrangement. Five minutes. Just five minutes alone and uninterrupted with the equivalent of his set-up guide, and you could die happy.

The man underneath your light touch jerked, a full-body twitch, though whether it was from perceived insult or your imminent handling of the literal inside of his head wasn’t immediately obvious.

Various electrical cords tightened like muscle contractions, confirming your theory that every part of him was alive.

An actual tech support staff member would have nightmares if they could see this. Everything was in perfect condition, but twisted and tangled beyond belief. Ramb had summoned you for a visual glitch; you weren't here as an electrician, so the danger of wires rubbing and frying until the delicate cores were exposed wasn't your concern.

Or so you kept telling yourself.

You swallowed, mouth bone-dry from nervousness. “Okay, uh, try to relax?”

“Easy for you to say.”

Yeah, it really did sound like a stupid question. You bit your lip, deciding to take a huge gamble. ‘All in on red’, you slowly rested your palms on hunched shoulders.

Tenna flinched again, but you deliberately ignored it. Couldn't have him jostling around when you were literally digging inside his head. Not that you weren't sympathetic, but your task would be borderline impossible if he was touch averse.

“It's okay, I'll be gentle.” You gradually pressed the balls of your thumbs into the fabric between his shoulders, rubbing firm circles as your fingers similarly kneaded beside his clavicle.

It felt... Normal? Every inch of this unusual TV-headed figure was covered, yet there was a definite muscle-bone structure beneath that suit.

“But I'll need you to tell me if I've touched anything I shouldn't, or if it starts to hurt.” So much more of a mess back there than you expected; your memory was hardly photographic, but you'd long ago committed television layout to memory. That didn’t mean you weren’t still a little nervous as your hand returned to the back of Tenna’s head.

With neither a manual, camera, nor informant to describe in perfect detail, you were loathe to unhook more than one cable at a time.

Fingers drifted across tangled wires, ‘seeing’ their paths more through touch than by sight. Nothing was labeled - unsurprising - but several of the ports were as familiar to you as family. Perhaps they even were by now.

You gently tapped one such recognizable outlet. “I think I found our culprit. Is this one okay to unplug?”

Tenna shuddered, stifling a groan. “Yes...”

Though the jack matched perfectly, as if made for each other, it wasn't seated correctly. It came loose with a slight wiggle, and the man whimpered.

You grimaced; this had to be highly uncomfortable for him. “Looks like it's visual output.” You tried to peer around and check his screen but he was too large, and you didn't want to lean on him any more than you already were. His screen’s glow had dimmed, but the glitching was definitely hardware based, not something a reboot could fix.

What did ‘reboot’ mean, in this guy's context?

Tracing the offending port’s outline, you wished you had a penlight on you. “It wasn't mounted correctly; I'm going to take a closer look.” You waited for a response. Oh God, what if you broke him? “Um, Mr. Tenna, sir?” Over-the-top professionalism had yet to fail you.

“Mmm?”

Okay. Not dead. Dazed still wasn't a good sign. You placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on the top of his casing, plotting the erratic motion of the antennae, and squinted.

Aha, there you are, you naughty little thing.

“Brace yourself.” You angled your finger inside the socket and pried at the bent pin until it looked no different from its fellows. Forcing yourself to ignore the sudden gasp, you slotted the plug back in and traced around the connector, checking for any gap. “There! That oughta do it!” Another job well done.

“Oh.” For someone so opposed to your having been there in the first place, he sure sounded pretty disappointed.

You hopped down from the desk and dusted off your hands, more out of habit than anything; there hadn’t been a mote of dust on those jumbled cords. “Well?” The chair still hadn’t spun back around, and didn’t move when you walked around to face its occupant.

His hands were clenching the fabric of his pants, sure to leave horrendous wrinkles, and shaking slightly.

“Are...” you dragged the word out, concern growing, “Are you alright, Mr. Tenna?”

He wasn’t looking up, a vivid red tint to his screen. “I. Um.”

You really hoped it wasn’t a display error. Probably just being embarrassed at having needed help, nothing out of the ordinary there.

“I’m f-fine.”

You don’t sound ‘fine’.

He cleared his throat... somehow. Maybe there’s a manual in his desk.

“Yes! Fine! Never better! Commercial break’s almost over, gotta go!” Shooting to his feet, Tenna stumbled toward the door. “I’ll-tell-Ramb-to-send-you-back-to-the-Light-World-bye!” And just like that, he was gone.

The hell was that about? You didn’t feel like standing alone in the gargantuan empty office

It was finally your turn to head to the hallway, wondering where to start exploring. This hallucination - or illusion, or fantasy, whatever it exactly was - had so much detail that you wondered what else it had in store for you.

Just one step out the door and the lights flicked out, leaving you in total darkness, sputtering back to life to illuminate your cluttered living room.

You’d- A TV had literally just asked you to fix it. And not like those stupid new fancy ‘smart appliance’ gimmicks. The marks on your arm from your attempts to pinch yourself awake made for a compelling argument that no, the previous hour had not been a dream.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Um, Mr. Ant Tenna?”

Though he had no eyes, you’d been working with - well, technically ‘on’ - him for long enough to get a pretty good feel for where the entertainer was looking. And right now...

Nothing.

Some people might’ve resorted to a bit of ‘percussive maintenance’ - just because older models were way more durable than the new fancy wastes of silicon, it was still a good way of breaking something delicate inside - but smacking somebody upside the head was generally a pretty bad idea. You could fix busted electronics easily enough, but the guy clearly needed a therapist right now, not an unorthodox doctor.

Giving it exactly zero thought, you stood up and stepped around the table to flop roughly down on the sofa next to the much-larger figure, somehow managing not to spill a drop of your drink on him. “Warranties are a scam anyway, that’s what I tell anyone who’s concerned enough to ask. As long as you take proper care of it, the classics never get old.” That actually reminded you...

“Back in the ‘Light World’, I’d seen a set as nice as yours this one time, I think the owner did carpentry or something? Had it mounted in this detailed cabinet, said it was mahogany, with a super elaborate sound system.” You idly played with the loosened tie spilling across his chest, wondering what material it was made out of. “Funny, I can’t remember a damned thing about the client, come to think of it, just how nice of a setup they had...” Your voice trailed off, sneaking a peek at Tenna’s face. His expression had unfrozen back to neutral, and the display had started to brighten. Definitely a sign to keep going.

“That’s what makes a successful game show, someone who stands out from the crowd, who’s memorable.” You gave the yellow tie, now wrapped around your fingers, a light tug. “The host being total eye candy certainly doesn’t hurt.” Okay, maybe that was crossing a line. He wasn’t your boss, because this was just a profitable hobby, but he was still paying you and client-repairman was only a few steps up from being a total stranger.

“Uh, really sorry about that.” A blush rose on your cheeks, only mostly from embarrassment; you’d just realized you were practically in his lap.

Your drink finally spilled, falling over the moment you practically threw it onto the coffee table in your scramble to get back to your chair, or perhaps out the door in shame.

Sofa springs and frame creaked, an unnatural sound reaching your ears. “W̗͈ͨ͡͡A͖̘̽́͘Iͬ͜͏̥T̖̋̆͘͞.ͯͭ͟͏̩” The noise made you freeze, some primal instinct firing off deep within, resonating from back when humans had yet to reach top of the food chain.

You stood up all the way before turning just in time to see a broad outstretched hand curl into a tight fist, trembling slightly before falling limply to his side.

“You’re drunk.” Tenna’s head leaned so far over the sofa’s back you could barely see his face. What you could see, however, was the heat haze emitted from his vents with that derisive scoff. “You’re just saying that.”

Blinking, own head tilted slightly, you mulled over the sudden shift in mood. These beings, these ‘Darkners’, they weren’t human, definitely not physically. But they were still very much people, each an individual with their own hopes and fears, wants and needs, joys and sorrows.

You sat back down with a carefree shrug, pretending as though it wasn’t a big deal and that you definitely hadn’t heard the panic and desperation in Tenna’s staticky plea. The fabric under your crossed leg made a soft ‘shff’ sound, sinking deeper as the television gradually shrunk at the sofa's far end. “Not as much as you are. ‘Sides, it’s true.”

“I know what you do in the Light World,” he snapped, still refusing to look at you, “Your job-”

“Hobby,” you correct him firmly, nudging the side of his leg with an outstretched foot. “It’s a hobby that I do for fun. Ramb can’t even pay me in Light World currency; I only take his calls because I like seeing your shows and all the backstage magic that goes into broadcasting them.”

He heard you, but was refusing to either look your way or listen. “‘Hobby’. I guess that makes it all fine and dandy, doesn’t it?” It wasn’t a tone you’d heard before, not from him. Bitter. Resentful, even. This made you more than a little annoyed, realizing it must be one of the performer’s famous ‘moods’ you’d heard so much about, though some had gone so far as to impolitely use the term ‘tantrum’.

Navigating emotionally-charged social interactions was not your strong suit, but such a petulant outburst seemed like it would fit a diva straight out of Hollywood rather than this Darkner. Tenna continued in a voice almost as black as the Fountain propping up this section of the world. “You think it’s ‘fun’ to visit other Lightners’ houses, ogling all their newer possessions while you deign to keep the older ones on l̩̄͟ḯ͏͇f̵͙ͨę̭̔ ̠̄͝s͈̒̀ṷ̢͖̌͒̀p̦̽͝p̲̎͞o̶̪ͪr̸̂ͅẗ̡̗́?” Again, your brain struggled with the alien-sounding words, narrowing down the possibilities from context.

Ohh boy. You’d just stepped into one hell of a minefield. And, from what you’d begun to figure out of this world’s Rules, it could very literally become just such a hazard.

From what you’d seen, Darkners were very much aware and accepting of the fact they were metaphysical representations of objects in your world, in your layer of reality. Somehow, that made it even harder to reconcile their oxymoronic bilocation: the same entity, in two places at once, a household appliance there, a sapient being with personhood here. You didn’t know where Tenna’s reflection back home was, and it really honestly didn’t matter to you.

“I can’t exactly hold a conversation with them like I can you. It’d be one-sided to the extreme, and I already risk people thinking I’m ‘weird’.”

“All it would take is just one Fountain of Darkness in the area and you won't have that problem anymore! You can move on to someone more relevant, one of those ‘Livestream’ Darkners I’ve heard so much about, no more of those outdated reruns I’ve been forced to air.”

You didn't think it would be helpful to correct Tenna that you had no idea how Dark Fountains were created, nor had you met anyone who'd heard of such a thing. Not that you'd been asking around or anything, that would also flag you as weird. “That would be some completely different Darkner, right?” Oh hell, you hoped so, being wrong might cause him to spiral further. Another ‘Tenna’ still wouldn’t be the ‘Tenna’ you knew. The very notion that he could be supplanted, just like that, was utterly laughable!

“So? They’re newer. Flashier.” You could almost see his Volume level ticking down. “...not glooby.”

“They don’t interest me, though. Never have. They’re pieces of garbage; why do you think I’ve had so many people requesting my services if they could just buy some shiny new toy?” You dared to slide a little closer, taking note of the single antenna twitching in your direction. At least he’d stopped changing size. “Overpriced plastic bricks, designed to break in less than a year just so people have to keep buying new ones, shelling out the big bucks. People missing ‘the old days’ aren’t just emotionally nostalgic. Devices from your era-” You were close enough now to poke him in the side. Which you of course had to do, because why not. “-didn’t break unless someone beat the crap out of it, or it had a factory defect.” One more little scoot and you could reach his face. Poking time!

“And you-” You’d fielded many complaints about a ‘broken’ set, making the owner’s skin tingle when they leaned in too close. Most didn’t believe you after you informed them that meant it was working correctly. That familiar and comforting buzz greeted you now, pushing your index finger against the large screen and smirking. Its texture was unusual, somewhere between smooth glass and malleable flesh.

“-are not-” Poke.

“-defective!” You kept prodding the screen, demanding a response in the most annoying fashion you knew.

His arm snapped around, grabbing onto your wrist and locking it in place.

Fortunately, you had a second arm and waggled all your fingers directly in front of Tenna’s face. “I’m not gonna stop until I hear you say it.” He’d have to sit up and and make direct - well, not ‘eye contact’, but close enough - or else you’d find out how sensitive that screen really was. “Say it,” you said firmly. “Say ‘I am not defective’.” Adding in a much more lighthearted tone, “I swear I’m going to tickle you if you don’t.”

His antennae drooped in what appeared to be resignation this time, muttering so quietly you could barely make out any words over the residual static.

“Your volume buttons are right there.” Also within poking distance. They looked like they’d make a satisfying ‘click’, too. Okay, now you absolutely needed to try! Your index finger extended, tracing slow circles in the air, wondering how much it would take to make him crack.

“I said, ‘I’m not defective’!” Not letting go of your wrist, Tenna bolted upright and away from your threatening hand, antenna rigidly twitching in panic. “Mike, replay that clip!”

Old habits sure did die hard. You could only grin cheekily. “And I'd know! ‘Hobby for fun’, remember?”

He glanced down at where an immaculately-white uniformed glove encircled not just your wrist but most of your forearm, screen tinting faintly pink in embarrassment. Movements jerky, clearly not sure how to react to your authoritative - you were an expert, after all - claim, Tenna loosened one finger at a time, pulling his arm away jerkily, as if not knowing what to do with his limbs, and draped it awkwardly over the back of the sofa.

You pressed your advantage, sliding over so your legs were almost - but not quite - touching. What you weren't expecting was to slip those last few inches down the divot the much larger TV host left in the cushion with a nervous cough and blush of your own.

“So, ah.” He was doing that thing, it always annoyed you to see on someone, where they were pointedly not looking at you but still trying to. “Y-you...” Tenna gulped nervously.

You knew what he was going to ask, and completely understood that he was almost too afraid of your answer to speak at all. You waited, giving what you hoped was a pleasant expression with reassuringly raised eyebrows.

“Meant... it?” So much doubt. A ray of fear. Small cracks of hope.

“Ding ding ding, we have ourselves a winner!” You beamed, trying your hardest to mimic your- The thought ground to a halt with cartoonishly squealing tires. Could you really call this man - who believed not entirely inaccurately that he was just an old television, existing for the sole purpose of being used by humans for entertainment - a friend? Knee-jerk reactions tended to be the most indicative of one’s true feelings.

Yes.

Tenna was your friend.

Friends looked out for each other.

You didn’t like seeing a friend upset, and this was kind of technically your fault. ACTions seemed to have a stronger effect than words. You flopped backwards, tucking yourself under his outstretched arm like you belonged there.

“Yeah! Who wouldn’t? I mean, sure-” you gave a judgemental one-shoulder shrug, “some people have preferences, but I can’t see why anyone would think otherwise.” You didn’t want to lay it on too thick, lest the honest truth become unbelievable. “And you’re you. You’ve got so much energy on stage; people tend to like other people who really love what they do.”

Flirting was definitely unprofessional conduct... the man still wasn’t your boss, or coworker, or whatever, so no harm done.

What time was it? Had to be after midnight by this point. You made to stand up but he lurched forward, desperately wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t go!” Tenna pleaded.

“It’s late. Like really, really late.” You could hear your bed calling your name.

“Don't go,” he repeated in a tiny voice.

“I don't belong here,” you reminded him, trying to drip reassurance into your words. It didn't quite succeed, Tenna's grip tightening with a short burst of white noise, so you worked your arm hand up to gently stroke his casing. “But I'm not going to leave you; nothing will stop me from showing up at your studio every off day I get.”

Though you didn't add the words ‘I promise’ - far too cheesy for a raw moment like this - you'd never meant anything more seriously in your entire life. It was a vow, a personal oath sworn to your own self.

“I am gonna go get you some water, don’t want any stage hands seeing you super hungover tomorrow.” It was for the same reason you hadn’t offered to walk him home.

Appearances.

Tenna cared so much about he was perceived, his ‘viewers’ weren’t limited to people tuned into his shows. You weren’t sure why you were excluded from the crowd of surface admirers, but you had a few theories. First of all, you weren’t a Darkner, so you couldn’t spread gossip about the studio. Admitting to not watching TV much should have been a major strike against your character, but your passion for old electronics - you really loved what you did - seemed to make up for this massive lapse in judgement. And you did legitimately like him, though you could never tell how noticeable your affections were.

You were ‘safe vulnerable’, or at least safe enough for a drunken confession, and couldn’t affect the ‘Fun Meter’ Tenna was so stressed over.

He was fast asleep when you came back with an armful of bottled water, the DVD logo slowly bouncing across a black screen. You stifled a snicker and tried not to watch; the longer it went without hitting the corner, the more frustrated you’d get.

It looked like you’d be spending the night; saying you weren’t going to leave and then not being there when he woke up... Untrustworthy. A fraud. A liar.

Not like you had anything better to do tomorrow, or at all. You set your accumulated hydration down slowly, and carefully curled up against the opposite arm of the sofa.

I've got my own ideas for how someone could enter a Fountain's area that wasn't spawned at their location. No idea where I'm going with this, so strap yourselves in, fellow Light Nerds! With thanks to @2000sangel, who was kind enough to give me some feedback. Credit also to insectatlas and their awesome Tennacord server.