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sm for televoid ian that i got the urge to write it’s kinda poem-y or sm
there is nothing. there is nothing. there is nothing.
there will always be nothing, the somethings say, static dripping from their gaping maws. there will always be nothing. look away when you see us, and there will be nothing still.
there is nothing. there is nothing. there is… nothing?
a flash of light, so brief and yet so enticing, spreading warmth through your whole body and making that weary head of yours spin. for so long, nothing. now, for a second, there is something. you drop the cards they gave you. they don’t like that.
there is something. there is something… there is something!
watch out. the gap in the shows is a different reality. you reach for it, quickly, desperately. the door to other dimensions is open. the fragile bird’s-ribs hollow-bones in your chest creak as you move, a warning that you cannot listen to. the only you is you. for just a second, there is something.
there is something. there… is something. there is…
when you can breathe again, the deafening echoes of things you no longer understand fading from your ringing ears, there is nothing. there has always been nothing. you don’t know what you were thinking. are you sure the only you is you? nothing’s there.
Pentvoid! (aka the crossover that Nobody Asked For At All)
So a while ago, I kind of realized that both Pent from Khonjin House and Ian from Televoid! seem to live in a black, mostly featureless void.
And then this monster crossover reared its head about a week before NaNoWriMo, and I had to scramble to get it done.
But it is done! So, have... whatever this is. You’re welcome.
So. He was back in the void again.
Pent really disliked this place. Solid black background, barely any light sources - it just sucked, to be frank. At the very least, though, it was good for fast travelling when he was actually able to find his way around.
Though, if this section of featureless black meant what he thought it did, then he was probably lost.
Fuck you and your lack of interior decoration, Smack, he thought. Not that his captor had actually made the void - he highly doubted that - but these days, he quite enjoyed blaming the man for the tiniest things that went wrong. It was a bit of petty victory.
Back to trying to find his way around, though. He could have used a bit of warping, but his head wound always seemed to bleed whenever he altered reality, especially when he was in the void. It was basically on foot or nothing.
He kept walking forward, and eventually noticed something strange - a faint purple glow coming from one corner of the nothingness. Purple, and the sound of... static? An old television, perhaps. Not something one would expect to see in the void.
Well, curiosity killed the cat, but Pent was pretty sure that he was more than prepared to handle anything that the void could throw at him - at least in terms of being able to fight it.
What he was a little less prepared for was something with absolutely no logical explanation.
He’d walked into a small... alcove? room? in the void. A printer was right next to his feet (he’d nearly tripped over it), furiously spitting out papers in what looked like a letter format. He picked one up, and it slipped right back onto the pile, like it wasn’t even meant to be read by him.
“Hello,” someone said behind him, and he whirled on his heel, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Again, though, nothing particularly threatening was there.
In front of him was a somewhat comfortable-looking sofa, its back turned to him, facing an old television. There was also a plant off to one side, which was either fake or had something very supernatural about it, since he hadn’t seen any sources of water that would provide for a plant that size in the void, ever.
The television was saying something - or, rather, the man on the television was saying something.
“And. Welcome.”
Pent frowned, pushing his hat up to see a little better. Something was very wrong here.
“To the void’S FAVORITE TV SHOW, RACE! YOUR! BABY!”
Well, that was not what he’d been expecting. It was concerning in many ways - “the only show where it’s okay if your baby is a little racist!”, exclaimed the announcer - but it wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
He looked around the room again, and noticed someone on the sofa, staring intently at the television. Someone with what looked like... almost the same outfit and hairstyle as the announcer? It was hard to tell, since the image on the screen was black and white, and here the man was wearing a vibrantly purple hoodie.
He ducked down behind the couch again, pulling his hat low. “What the fuck,” he hissed quietly, then looked over towards the stack of emails as the announcer tried to name the babies anything other than Joel.
Dear Ian, do you have anything to eat? Or drink?
IT’S NOT SAFE, GET OUT OF HERE
I was just wondering, how do you stay alive without any visible sources of sustenance?
So, when we were watching Beat The Clock together, where’d you get the popcorn from?
Each email had a logo printed at the top, in all lowercase letters. “televoid!”, each exclaimed. Most of them were addressed to an Ian, some to a Moose, and a couple had no names associated with the recipient on them.
Pent turned back towards the television, which had been making weird noises, just in time to see an image of... the man on the couch? The man stared at the television for several long seconds, before suddenly whipping around and looking right at him.
He ducked back down hastily. Something was wrong here.
After several more strange noises, the announcer ended the broadcast with a cheerful “Back to you, Ian!” The person on the sofa got up, and began saying something to the air in a very shaky voice. Something about sending him messages, and then reached towards the television and pushed an antenna back in.
“I’m... just gonna... put this back down, actually...” he muttered to nobody in particular.
And just like that, a presence - one he hadn’t even been able to detect - left the room, leaving just the three of them - the man on the couch, Pent, and the static-filled TV.
Silence filled the room instead. Pent waited for the man to get up and do something, but instead he just sank into the sofa as far as he could, seemingly stunned by what he’d just seen.
Finally, he couldn’t bear the silence anymore, and willed himself to speak. After all, this guy clearly wasn’t a threat to his physical well-being, and mentally, well - he was a little screwed already, so what was the harm, really?
“Is every channel as royally fucked up as that?” he asked, leaning back against one of the black walls of the void and trying to look non-threatening.
“No, it’s all the same channel this stuff pops up on, usually it’s just old TV shows, not like-” the man began, then suddenly broke off with a surprised gasp. He turned around in his seat, and... yep, he looked exactly the same as the person on the TV.
“Y-you’re new! Hi!” the man exclaimed, practically vaulting off the couch and rushing over to him, nearly tripping over the printer in the process. “I’m Ian! Sorry for the mess, it’s been a really long time since I had a guest. As in I’ve never had a guest. What are you doing here?”
Pent rubbed his temples, noting that a bit of blood dripped onto his fingers when he did so.
Great. I must’ve warped something, maybe when I was trying to read those messages. Just fantastic.
“Just passing through,” he responded calmly. “Name’s Pent.”
“Huh. I’ve never met a Pent before,” Ian responded. “How’d you get here, anyway? There’s no door or anything, and you’re leaning against a wall so it’s not like you’re intangible, right?” He laughed nervously. “That’d just be... silly. Yeah.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ian had been seriously shaken up by the broadcast. Without responding, Pent crossed over to the TV and stared at the static, expecting a pattern to pop up at any second.
Nothing came through. He put a hand on the top of the television and turned back to Ian again.
“I’m extending the antenna again. I want to see what happens,” he told the man, reaching for the antenna as he did so. Ian made a small, choked noise, but didn’t protest besides that, so he carefully stretched the metal bar out of it as far as possible, then stepped back from the television.
An image slowly came into focus, accompanied by a soft musical piece of some kind. A white light, its source unknown, shining directly down onto a patch of otherwise black background.
Pent frowned, stepping back a little bit to try and get a better sense of what the image was, when something caught his eye. Specks of red on the white ground in the image, like someone had been bleeding there.
Like he’d been bleeding there.
Pent hissed through his teeth, frantically pressing the off button on the TV and backpedaling away from it. How the fuck? That’s, that’s where I was - where I was trapped! Where I woke up!
“I’m gonna kill Smack,” he muttered, pulling his hat over his eyes and trying to block out the memories already bubbling up. The television - which he could've sworn he'd turned off - began playing another tune. Loud synth, like something out of an old video game, accompanied by an aggressive beat.
He didn't even know how he knew this, but from the very first note, he could hear... laughter. Wild, sinister, and familiar, practically drowning out the sound of the TV. He clapped his hands over his ears, shut his eyes tightly, sat down on the ground, and tried to ignore the sound.
He had no idea how long he sat there - could have been hours, could have been mere seconds - but eventually he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up.
Ian had turned the television off, put the antenna back down, and was staring down at Pent with an extremely concerned expression on his face.
“...Well, now you know what happens,” he said quietly, tilting his head slightly towards the TV. “Pent, er... Are you alright?”
“Absolutely,” he snapped, brushing off Ian’s hand and standing up. He tilted his hat back upwards, pushing his hair away from his face in the process, and his hand came away bloody from the still-leaking wound on his head.
Unfortunately, Ian noticed the blood this time.
“Ohhhh geez. That’s blood, you’re totally bleeding. Ok, I think you’re gonna need to sit down, right there, and let me see if I can find bandages, okay?”
“Not happening,” Pent responded, glaring at Ian. “I’ve spent long enough here and I need to go. Now.”
Ian shook his head. “Look, dude, I respect your determination and all, but you’re gonna get seriously woozy if you don’t patch that up. How’d you get it, anyway?”
“None of your fuckin’ business,” Pent snapped again, almost immediately. Still, the guy had a point - he was losing blood fast. With this in mind, he reluctantly sat down on the couch. “Look, if you have something on hand, that’d be... I mean, thanks for offering. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“Must be hard being nice when you’re so hardcore,” Ian quipped, ducking behind the sofa and rummaging under it. Pent blinked.
Did he actually just say that? To me?
“Pardon?” he finally responded. Maybe pretending he didn’t hear the guy would cause some kind of reaction.
“Well, y’know, you’re travelling through the void, which even I can’t do, you’ve got a super cool outfit - you’re clearly some kind of antihero protagonist. At the very least, you’re a really cool villain,” came Ian’s muffled reply. He popped back up from behind the couch again, grinning.
“Found ‘em!” He brandished what was clearly a brand-new and unopened first aid kit. Pent blinked in surprise again.
I was just back there, and I definitely didn’t see a box that large. Is... he a warper, too?
Ian reached into the kit, pulled out a gigantic roll of bandages, and then walked back over to Pent.
“You’re gonna need to take your hat off,” he said, waving the bandages at the article of clothing.
“The hat stays,” Pent snapped instinctively. Wound or no wound, this was his goddamn hat - pretty much the only thing he could be sure that he owned. He moved a hand to his hat protectively, and Ian sighed.
“Fine, be like that,” he responded, flopping down on the couch next to Pent. “Don’t blame me if you pass out from blood loss. At least put pressure on the wound or something,” he added, tossing him a package of gauze.
Pent moved away on the couch slightly, but did at least take the medical supplies and try to stop up the blood.
“...Thanks,” he added, after a while. Honestly, the more he learned about this Ian person, the more suspicious the guy got. A reality warper trapped in the void, with a TV set that showed... bad things? Something just didn’t add up here.
He sat in silence for a while, until Ian - of course - opened his mouth again.
“...So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking... Who’s Smack?”
“I do mind you asking,” Pent muttered.
Still, as much as I don’t want to tell him... He’s seen the worst of it already.
“I don’t know much about him,” he eventually said. “Just that he’s the guy who trapped me here, and that he’s a fuckin’ asshole.”
Ian whistled softly. “Jeez. D’you think he’s behind the whole... thing with the television, then? With the weird spotlight and the chiptune music?”
“Definitely. Hell, he might be behind you being imprisoned, too.”
The man next to him went completely still and silent all of a sudden. Pent turned towards him and was met with a completely blank expression for half a second, before Ian suddenly snapped back to reality with a soft, sad smile on his face.
“Imprisoned...? I think you’ve got the wrong person. I just live here.”
Pent moved just a little bit farther away from the man, trying to read his expression. “You don’t ever leave, though, yeah? And those emails, they...”
He stopped himself short too late. Ian blinked at him.
“Haha, you’ve read the fanmail, then? Isn’t it pretty cool? All these people complimenting my style, giving me tips on different things, that type of stuff... I don’t really read all of it, but it’s all so nice!”
Pent stood up, and grabbed a random letter off the floor - one of the ones in all capitals, telling Ian he had to escape. “This isn’t complimenting your fuckin’ hoodie, Ian. It’s telling you that you’ve gotta get out of here.”
“May I?” Ian stretched out a hand for the email, and Pent reluctantly handed it over. The man read over the paper for several seconds, eyes scanning left to right.
Finally, he put the paper down and stared at Pent with that same concerned expression. “Pent, d’you think you might have a concussion from that wound on your head?”
Well, I can’t exactly deny that possibility - but it’s got nothing to do with that letter, he thought irritably. Why is he dodging the issue, anyway?
“Pretty damn sure,” he responded.
Ian shook his head. “This email doesn’t say anything about me needing to leave. It’s just asking me if this plant -” here, he gestured towards the same large plant that Pent had noticed when he first entered the room “- has a name. Which she does, it’s Judy.”
“Get your eyes checked,” he responded flatly, crossing his arms. “I just read that, and it didn’t even mention the plant.”
Ian laughed nervously. “You know it’s ok to admit that you’re wrong, right? Here, if you still don’t believe me, take a look.” He handed the letter back to Pent, who snatched it back and frantically overlooked the contents.
The man was right - the message no longer said anything about Ian having to escape. It wasn’t even in capital letters anymore.
Dear Ian,
I love your room! Whoever did it must have excellent interior decoration skills. I especially love the plant, do they have a name?
The message was unsigned.
“I swear it... said something else,” Pent muttered. He turned towards the scattered emails on the floor, and picked up another one.
“How about this? This one says... Well, it’s asking you if you have food and water here.” He handed it to Ian willingly this time. “And I’m positive it says that, because I literally just read it.”
“Hmm,” Ian said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, actually, this one is complimenting my hoodie. She says it’s a lovely color.”
“Seriously?” He took the letter back and scanned over it - once more, the content had changed. Ian was right, this one was complimenting his hoodie and asking where he’d bought it.
“Something’s fucky,” Pent said, putting the paper aside. “Are you sure that you just live here?”
“Positive,” Ian responded. “It’s a cozy room, okay? Don’t sweat it.”
He frowned, surveying the room. A television that showed strange things, scattered emails that changed their contents when read by different people... all of a sudden, he got the distinct feeling that he shouldn’t be here.
Ian is... supposed to be isolated. Not even in the same way I was supposed to be... it almost seems like he’s doing this to himself. Like he’s trying to keep himself from the world...
“Dude! Hey!”
Pent blinked, coming out of his reverie to find Ian waving a hand in front of his face.
“You totally spaced out there! Your head is, uh, bleeding a bit more, too,” the man mumbled awkwardly, plopping back down on the couch.
“It does that,” he responded. “Listen, Ian, it’s been nice, but I... should get going.”
Ian’s face fell, and Pent felt terrible almost immediately. He hadn’t meant to word what he’d said quite so harshly.
“...Want to see if any of those old TV shows come on, first?” he added, sitting down on the floor and facing the television. “Always wondered what kind of stuff is popular here in the void.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
