Cove’s Thingamajigs

It was too quiet in TV World today.

Upon arriving to the studio, the whole thing looked and felt like a ghost town. Though the studio was always bathed in moody colors and relatively quiet (as TV World’s ruler didn’t adore unnecessary noise on the daily), it was like the whole world had dimmed. The lights were set a little lower than usual, and stagehands and technicians from the show crew skittered around more carefully, as if avoiding something.

And oddly, Mr. Tenna was nowhere to be found.

The various pippins and zappers that adorned this world gave you friendly waves and soft greetings, but never stuck around long enough for you to inquire what was happening. Eventually, you managed to grab a hold of a pippins in a blue poncho, who you knew as Tealy, and asked them where Tenna was.

Through awkward glances, the kind little pippins explained that Tenna had stormed off to his office after that day’s broadcast had ended. You weren’t about to keep them long when, upon you turning away and thanking them for the information, they stopped you again.

“_______, I–” they seemed to be deciding what to say, “Mr. Tenna’s not…doing okay. Something happened on set today, a–and he’s really upset.” The little pippins toyed with their hands. “Please be careful.”

You smiled softly. “I’ll be careful, Tealy. Thank you for the help.”

Tealy nodded, and you began to make your way down a hallway to the left, looking for the familiar door with the silver star.

You knew Tenna had a bit of a temper, but you weren’t particularly scared of it. Tenna cared about you far too much to let his temper hurt you. More than anything, you were worried about him and the mental space his head must have been in if he’d shut himself inside his office.

And, perhaps, the state of his furniture.

You approached his door, hearing no sounds of fiery rage behind it, which was, frankly, a bit surprising. But…that was good, or at least you assumed so.

You took a breath in. Okay, what was the plan if you went inside and he was angry? Maybe try to calm him down with a massage and some kisses, he usually enjoyed those. Or maybe he just needed to be heard. That was certainly a possibility. Perhaps you didn’t need to solve the problem, you just needed to help.

You tapped your knuckles against the door a few times. “Tenna?”

A couple of seconds passed, and there was no response from the deep voice you loved. In fact, there were no sounds at all. Your brow furrowed.

You knocked again, a little bit louder. “Ten ten? Are you okay? It’s me, _______.”

Yet again, there was no reply, and you frowned more. What if he had hurt himself, either on purpose or by accident? Maybe he was asleep, but he was usually pretty easy to rouse, and he would have heard you knocking.

You steeled your resolve just a little, and gave his door one more knock. “Tenna, I’m coming in, okay?”

You received no argument, and you slowly opened the dark wooden door, peering cautiously into his office.

Once again, to your surprise, everything was as it should have been. His desk in the corner was empty, though covered in paperwork and files, and everything was in one piece. The door to his bedroom was open, with no one inside, and the whole room looked like it was untouched, as if he had never been there at all.

You stopped short, your voice turning up in confusion. “Tenna?”

In the quiet of his office, you then heard a small breath, and your head turned toward his desk. Empty, still, but you noticed that his chair had been pulled out from the desk proper, as if he had been sitting there and forgot to push it back in.

You stayed still for a moment, hearing that same little breath again a couple seconds later, sounding like it was coming from the same spot.

“Ten ten?” you whispered, approaching his desk. You turned the corner of it, looking down into the seat of his chair, and found…Tenna.

A very, very tiny Tenna, his back to you and his face buried into his curled-up knees, softly…crying.

You frowned deeply. You had never seen him get so small before, and you had certainly never seen him cry.

“Tenna? What’s wrong?” you questioned, not wanting to speak too loudly or suddenly.

“Go away, _______.” His miniature voice was distorted by crackling static and angry tears.

You walked over to the other side of the chair and sat down on your heels to see him properly. “Come now. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m not a child in need of consoling.”

He continued to hide his face, though you could tell that his screen was completely turned off.

“I know you’re not. But you’re crying. Tell me what happened.”

A couple of seconds passed, and you were given nothing but the sound of labored breaths and low static. You felt helpless as you watched him tremble around himself, his figure just a small gray lump on a chair cushion.

“Can I touch you?”

A pause. “Fine.”

You raised your hand cautiously and, slowly, began to smooth down his little antennae. At first, the little TV tensed up, but relaxed as your touch became grounding and soothing.

You sat in the quiet for a bit, patting his head affectionately, and prompted, “can I see your face?”

The TV slightly raised his tiny head from his knees, and you smiled gently. His screen was dark and covered in tears. “There’s my sweet little TV,” you cooed, continuing to give him pats.

“I am not sweet,” he grumbled, though you didn’t miss how the comment made him grow an inch taller.

“I think you are,” you teased, “my sweet and handsome showman.”

Tenna buried the lower half of his screen in his legs again, and you giggled.

“Can I pick you up?”

Another pause, slightly longer. “Yes.”

Gently, you bundled Tenna up into your hands, raising him to your lips to give him a big kiss on the side of his blocky head. Tenna unfurled himself from his stressed position as he got comfy in your hold and you gave him more and more huge kisses.

“I love my TV,” you promised, holding him close and running your thumb over the heart panel you knew was hidden under his tailcoat, “I have the best TV in the whole world.”

In the softest voice you’d ever heard from him, he took your thumb in his small hands and asked, “you do?”

“I do.”

At once, you saw countless tears reaccumulate on his black screen, forming like condensation on a glass of cold water, and run down his monitor. The grip on your thumb tightened.

“Oh, Tennie,” you murmured, giving him a smile. You gave the side of his box another kiss, then his screen, then his chest, over and over until, like music to your ears, he started to laugh through his tears.

Your Dark World was not supposed to look like this.

Your miniscule form, shrunken beyond recognizability, cowered under one of the plush Green Room couches, holding onto one of its huge wooden legs as you trembled in fright.

You had done everything right when you opened this fountain, you’d have sworn you had. You had closed all the doors in the house, you’d used the same dull kitchen knife as usual, you went through the same physical motions…

Then, why were you suddenly so…small? Whenever you came here previously, you had always been normal size, but now…

Everything in the Dark World was so gigantic, and you had to be the size of a large insect in comparison. The thought of your TV’s affectionate name for you, ladybug, crossed your mind, and there was something agonizing about the irony of it all. You really must have looked like a little bug.

Microscopic and oh-so-squishable.

You pulled your comforting red and black spotted cloak tighter around yourself as you surveyed the room from under the couch. You had nearly gotten trampled by a pippins in a teal poncho when you’d first gained consciousness, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have sworn the pure panic it instilled in you had taken at least two years off your lifespan. Now you were far, far too nervous to come out from under your furniture haven.

You watched as various stagehands rushed around the Green Room, worriedly searching for you to no avail. Several called your name, but your voice was too tiny to be heard by them, even if you stood right by their feet (which you were not doing again).

If you strained your ears, you could swear that you heard the faint sound of an agitated TV shouting commands, the familiar tones laced with a subtle panic that you could barely pick up on. After one hour of the fountain being open and you still being missing, you assumed that the crew, including him, had grown fearful about where you were.

You felt pressure begin to grow behind your eyes. What had you done wrong? And what were you supposed to do now? Everything was loud, and so big, and surely everyone would be upset with you once they found out what had happened. You just wanted to hide.

The ground shook as a pair of double doors opened with a bang, and the two pippins standing in the entryway nearly jumped out of their skin.

Clearly very pissed off and on-edge, Mr. Tenna stormed into the room, the employees nearby immediately looking like they wanted to run for their lives at the sight of him. Tenna always commanded attention in every room that he walked into, but today it seemed that he was being watched the same way one examines a bomb that could explode at any moment.

Despite the only partially metaphorical thundercloud of steam and vapor swirling around his CRT head, your whole body calmed at the sight of him. Tenna was here to find you, and everything was going to be okay, you just…had to…

“What have you found?” he grumbled to a few stagehands, and upon receiving what was assumedly a non-committal or unsatisfying answer, his clawed hands clenched tight. “You goddamn—then what am I PAYING YOU FOR? GO FIND HER!”

You frowned, your brow furrowing up with worry as your eyelids began to water. You hated seeing him so distressed, and it was all your fault. And it was so, so loud.

As Tenna’s employees bolted off in different directions, he stalked across the room, turning his head this way and that as he took long strides. This was your chance, and Angel if you didn’t want to be wrapped up in his arms already, you just wanted this to be over—

“Tenna!” you cried, your voice cracking with the effort.

You saw both of Tenna’s antennae twitch. He stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapping in your general direction.

Overwhelming relief surged through you, and you watched in amazement as his antennae twitched again, one of them seeming to lean in your direction. His antennae, from what you knew, were able to pick up on many kinds of sensual inputs, including various different types of sound waves and scents. Without needing any more prompting, he stepped towards the couch you were hidden under, seemingly beginning to find you on his own.

Did you have a special scent to him? You probably did, and the thought was…oddly arousing, though you didn’t know why. You wondered what your scent was.

“_______? Where are you?” He asked quickly, calm and focused.

“I’m—I’m down here,” you responded, your voice wobbly.

His gaze darted around the floor, and when he finally found you, teary and uncertain, his brow lowered further.

“Tennie?” You whimpered, a tear of pure relief falling down your cheek as he kneeled in front of you and scooped you up into his warm, gloved hands.

He was so, so big. You were used to Tenna being so much taller than everyone else in the studio, but this was…incomprehensible.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmured, holding you close to his face. For a moment, your weak eyes had to adjust to the bright hue of his projection.

Once you could see okay, you leaned up and pressed your cheek against the glass on his face, hugging the corner of his screen close to you. It was warm and staticky, in just the familiar and comforting way you recognized, and you giggled as you nuzzled against him and your hair began to stand on end. You loved the hushed, soothing tone that always came from his inner mechanics, and you breathed in deeply, calming yourself with his woodsy, electric scent.

“How did my sweet little ladybug get herself like this, hm?” He teased quietly, pulling you back just a little so he could look at you properly. He brought one huge thumb up to wipe away a rogue tear on your cheek, and you smiled as the whole pad of his finger eclipsed your tiny face and softly rubbed it away.

“I—I don’t know what I did wrong,” you admitted, closing in on yourself a little, “I’m—I’m really sorry.”

“Mm-mm, none of that,” he chastised, rising up from his kneeling position.