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While modern televisions are made with liquid crystals to project images through the glass, the old ones, the classics, the nostalgic ones to trust, were run off of cathode ray tubes. That’s where CRT comes from, compared to LCD, which is having its time in the starring role for now but will inevitably get tossed for yet another grand way to show off Lightner technology. In fact, some could say it’s already lost its moment in the spotlight, since more and more families are foregoing their televisions in the name of OLED screens on computers and portable technology.
Nothing can beat the cathode ray, though. It’s plainly the easiest way to get a picture in bright lights! Metal heats up in a thick glass tube, shooting electric whatevers into a magnet that makes sure everything’s nice and tidy before the screen completes the task in a beautiful television program. The television technically doesn’t know where the program comes from (maybe those “smart TVs” that Carol wouldn’t stop talking about did), but he could see how happy Lightners become when they watch it. They make an event out of it, gathering together every night, sometimes even bringing guests along…
They stopped coming by after a little bit, and he wondered if maybe they’re watching that LCD Carol talked about. The one that’s so nice to look at. So perfect with its higher definition and more channels and who needs more channels anyway? This family has the weather channel in the morning, then they play video games in the afternoon, and when the parents are off to bed, the little ones sneak down to watch The Symptons. Toriel doesn’t like The Symptons, thinking it’s leading Asriel astray, while Asgore insists he can think for himself and is old enough to watch what he wants.
Maybe that’s where the arguments started. Little things like what show Tenna would play. He tried to fix it, he really did, by making the screen fuzz out a bit when the kids wanted to watch something they weren’t supposed to. It could make the parents stop fighting. Instead, it just meant Asriel stopped wanting to watch TV, going out even more with Dess not giving Tenna a second glance when she picked him up.
That just left Kris, and Asriel departed most nights before the arguments got too bad, so he didn’t know to take Kris with him. He didn’t see how Kris would hide downstairs because the Mister and Missus are shouting in their room.
But Tenna did. Tenna saw everything. He saw this kid sniffling, and if he was lucky, Kris would turn on the TV. Kris can’t hear them if the TV is blaring, and Tenna could focus on being exactly the friendly sight they needed. He’d adjust the volume himself, making it extra loud so the kid wouldn’t know the worst of it. Maybe, if he’s blasting that show that only Kris watches, those two would realize that only their son left with Dess, Kris is still here, Kris can still hear—
Ah, but that was back then. This is now. Now, Tenna has a nice cozy spot in Castle Town, along with a promise for a new home. Eventually. Hopefully soon. Kris and Susie have been gone for a bit, so maybe they’ve already started looking?
“Don’t worry, Mr. Tenna!” Ralsei reassured him when he showed him his new room. “This is only temporary while we find a better place for you. I just wanted to make your stay comfortable.”
“I love the high ceiling!” He declared, pointing upward with a grand smile. It only took a moment for that to dim, however, feeling intensely aware of just how big they had to make everything to accommodate him. He towered over all the other Darkners without even trying, nearly knocking his head off on every door he took to get to the room in the first place. He cleared his throat, feeling himself shrink as he crouched to keep eye contact with the prince. “Uh, thank you, is what I meant. Guess you don’t need the showmanship when the show’s off the air.”
“It’s okay! We’re all adjusting to this. Neither me nor this castle have had this many guests before.” One of Ralsei’s eyes twitched at the telltale sound of someone bashing into a wall not far off. “Although I will say, I appreciate that you’re speaking at a normal level now.”
“Theatrics are for when we’re rolling. I know how to keep the volume down.” He pantomimed pressing a button on his microphone like it was a remote, pointing it toward his own head as he made the speaker symbol on his screen gradually lose sound waves. Ralsei snorted, the sound giving Tenna a spark of joy. He missed the sound of children’s laughter at his performance. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant at all! You can make yourself comfortable, no need to hide parts of yourself on my account. I just—well—you don’t need to knock down any walls, okay?”
“Walls? Why would I tear down—” He thought it was a ridiculous question, but with how strained Ralsei’s face looked, it seemed founded. He couldn’t imagine stepping on the prince’s toes like that, especially when he saw the dungeon that one ugly man sat in. Lancer tried to help by bringing him down there to entertain, but it just made Tenna more—ha—antsy. He twitched his antennae, smelling the slight tinge of stress that Ralsei wouldn’t dare voice, and patted him on the shoulder. “My room’s perfect the way it is. No changes needed.”
Ralsei had his hands in a prayer motion that he quickly dropped at that, his fidgety smile calming. “That’s good. If you do need any help, please tell me.”
“YOU BET!” Tenna gave him roaring applause as he left, waiting until the door shut to let his show face drop. The prince is sweet, but he needs a moment to himself. It’s impressive how nice the room is, like a shrunken version of his old backstage home, empty for now except for a mirror by the door. He’ll probably let someone else stay here once he gets going to wherever someone wants a CRT. Susie kept reassuring him while she patched him up that plenty of Lightners are in the market for that, that they love the retro vibe, that she doesn’t like how modern TVs look anyways…
He hasn’t dared check his injuries since his run-in with the Knight. He knew the second he woke up in Castle Town that something was wrong with his shoulders, something he thought he fixed, but he didn’t want to worry Kris and Susie. They wanted to make sure he’s functional, so he shouldn’t worry them with things that won’t matter as a television in the Light World. So what if he has a busted arm or two?
Or more?
Alright, time to face the music. Tenna couldn’t figure out how to lock the door, but closing it should be enough to be undisturbed. He inched over to the mirror, snapping his fingers to lose his coat, shirt, and tie. He has plenty of power over appearances, changing how both he and the world look to suit his needs. That was mainly in his Dark World, but he can still shrink and grow, switch around his outfit, and if he gets some help from Lightners, regenerate.
Regenerating was the worst. It meant Susie’s duct tape on his light form fixed him up, but it’s all too well. Parts of him he intentionally removed to look better for Kris’s arrival are back now, ugly and in full view. He wanted to set Kris at ease, appearing like the hosts on those game shows that the family loved to shout wrong answers for.
Those hosts were usually human. Two arms, two legs, a set body type that rarely varies. He’s never looked like that. He’s a Darkner, after all, and Darkners rarely look as inviting as they would outside of the shadows. They twist into something kids find frightening, hiding under the covers and begging for a light. He’s displayed enough horror movies to know what children find disgusting and creepy.
Usually? That’s bugs. He flicked his antennae back, glaring at the shell of thick plastic that smothered his torso and kept his coils in order. CRT TVs are quite durable, after all, and it’s the most important part of the body to stay protected with insulation. It also makes him look like the creepy crawlies that they gawk at for shiny exoskeletons, easy to crush and flinch away from. The most fragile were his thick glass arms with metal filaments easy to spot inside, two wrists wringing anxiously while the lower pair tried to squeeze his segmented middle. They desperately needed to disappear. He can press it down under a jacket, use the same power that lets him be a personable height, but it won’t stay forever. Eventually, that wears off, and he can’t guarantee it’ll be at a nice moment. What if Kris has to keep them here for months, and he’s required near others for hours at a time concentrating on keeping himself firmly humanoid? He doesn’t have that energy when so many are feeding on the closest Dark Fountain at once. It was terrifying enough to wonder if they could see where his head plugs into his neck through the tiny gap of his collar.
But if no one notices the damage he sustains, no one repairs it. He can pop two limbs off without much changing, and they won’t come back. He’s done it before, back when he realizes just how nasty Kris would find him. It’s almost, nearly, in a way, painless. So what if he loses some insulation, a few cathodes and electron beams? He can do this.
It’ll make him better for the kids. For Kris.
Tenna inhaled, wrapping three hands around the socket of his lower left arm. He can feel the smooth texture, warm with electricity and bendable the way no glass should be. The limbs don’t plug in cleanly like the cathodes in his head, but if he misaligns them, the filament will be easy to break. He can snap it off at the joint.
He started to twist.
“What are you doing?”
Tenna froze, a voice making him turn his head slowly like it’s made of stone. A familiarly small, round Darkner stood in the open entrance with his face turned up, obviously watching even though he didn’t have visible eyes. Tenna really wished he had swinging doors, not sliding ones, so he could have a bit of warning.
“Lancer?”
“Hey, new jester!” He waved, then stopped with a furrowed brow. “Well, I guess you’re not our jester anymore. Dad hated your act until you fell on your head. Will you fall on your head for him again?”
“No.” He didn’t think his casing could take it if he did that for a living, no matter how appealing an audience would be.
“Then you’re not the jester.” Lancer nodded, sure of himself, before comically leaning to look at where Tenna was still holding his arm. “What are you doing?”
“Um.” Tenna loosened his grip, stepping back so he could pretend to stretch his arms in a tree pose. “Just remembering that old yoga video Toriel used to play! Really helps calm the nerves after a tough time.”
“What’s a yoga video?”
“Well, it’s—” Tenna paused, feeling his synapses firing as he considered this. What part of yoga video is confusing? Is it yoga? He’s never been entirely sure what it is himself, but Toriel tried it a lot to make herself feel better when Asgore stopped coming down to watch TV. Actually, maybe he wasn’t in the house at all at that point, since Toriel was mainly using Tenna for those self help talk shows and to sniffle over sob stories.
But Lancer didn’t even know how video games worked when he was a guest on the show. He kept breaking the controllers by punching the buttons with his tongue. It never occurred to Tenna to ask if Lancer knew what videos were, or screens. He needs to switch channels, readjusting to something more child-friendly without assuming what he knew.
“Have you ever watched television, Lancer?” He asked, leaning over the kid with hands resting on his knees and hips.
Lancer shook his head, tiny as a beetle under his gaze.
“Well, I’m a TV. I show television to children. That’s-that’s my job. My purpose for Lightners is to entertain them, educate them, and keep their attention on less distressing things.” Tenna tilted his head, tapping his finger where Lancer’s spade symbol met his hood. He didn’t know if he liked the texture, squishy and malleable like a marshmallow. Lancer probably isn’t blind through that, though, and would enjoy what he has to offer. “I have plenty of other things I can show too. Television shows, like I said, games, like you played on my show, movies, music videos—”
“I like music.”
“Really?”
“Yeah!” Lancer reached behind him, pulling an MP3 player out of nowhere and holding it up with headphones. Tenna didn’t really have ears, so he pulled the buds up to his antennae.
SPLAT. SPLOINK. SPLURT.
“Oh. That’s, um—” He dropped the earbud to tug at his collar, grasping at his mess of deflection coils in his throat instead. “Those are certainly sounds! Although I have to say, I’ve never been one for toilet humor.”
“Girldad tried to give me her music once, but it hurt my ears. Too crunchy and loud.”
“Well my audio is pristine!” Tenna splayed his fingers to show off, playing the crispest sample he had of someone cheering for him. “I would never let it peak through my old mic. And neither would Mike!”
“Who’s Mike?"
“I’ll introduce you later. Actually, I can show you video later too, I just-” -Tenna tapped where he had electromagnetic tape rolling through his chest- “-need to be a bit more presentable, you know what I mean? This is a bit too much skin for the censors.”
“You should match your clothes to your body. Then no one cares what’s flesh and what’s not.”
“Good idea, little buddy.” He gave Lancer a congratulatory ding ding ding!, avoiding delving further into that harrowing line of thinking. “Now, can I have some space?”
“I can get you space. We’re digging an enclosure through my room so you can touch grass whenever you want. Care to help?”
“Well—”
“Your height would make it lickety easy. You can hold me up high to get that last part of the wall ripped out!” Lancer made grabby motions, reaching toward the sky. Tenna found how exaggerated the motion was to be charming. He couldn’t keep himself from obliging, scooping him up with full intent to keep him from getting too close.
The only problem is that Lancer’s like a monkey, using his little hands to ignore any sense of logic and scramble upwards. Tenna squawked, watching him spiral to the shoulder and plop down where his limb hinged into the socket with synthetic divots. “Hey!”
“Join our construction crew! I’ll give you a hard hat so you don’t hit your head again. Wait, your hair’s still messed up from that fall. Let me fix it.” Lancer licked up his palm, holding it out while he stood on his tip toes to get above the screen.
No way is Tenna going to let him get saliva on his antenna. He craned his neck in the opposite direction, one hand grabbing Lancer by the scruff to dangle him where he can’t reach. Tenna wanted to be big enough that it’d be no worse than holding a keychain, but a part of him worried what'd happen if he squeezed too hard. “I think you’ll finish your project just fine without me, Lancer. I don’t need grass. Or spit.”
“Susie told me that if I lick your screen, I’ll see rainbows.”
“Do not lick my screen.” He liked working with kids, loved it, even, but every time he saw those bumpy muscular organs closing in on him he wanted to be unplugged. “That is the same as licking my eyes.”
“Is licking your eyes bad?”
Alright, so this kid doesn’t know anything at all. Tenna templed his fingers with his lower set of arms and pinched his nose with his free hand. Deep breaths. He let a snippet of calming music sing from his core before he felt settled enough to respond. “I changed my mind. Don’t climb on me for a moment after I put you down, and I’ll show you lots of educational videos."
Lancer nodded obediently. It felt suspicious just how obedient he was, but he stayed still when Tenna put him down. Tenna snapped his fingers to return to his classic self, smoothing out his antenna with a practiced smile.
Then Lancer had to point out the obvious.
“Where’d your arms go?”
Tenna grimaced, feeling like Lancer just put long nails under his panels and started ripping them off. “Ah—well—I—ahem—” He quickly snapped to bring the extra limbs back. “I’m used to operating without them, that’s all! Thank you for reminding me.”
“And why are you small?”
“I'm an ant.”
“What’s an ant?”
He’s not getting anywhere if he doesn’t get the show rolling. Tenna sat down, switching his screen to a documentary about the insect. In the Light World, he can only really show what the channel directory provides, but he has more control here. Lancer perked up at the sounds coming from his head, crawling forward to sit in his lap and stare up at the moving images. Tenna didn’t want to interrupt the narrator, letting his shoulders bounce with a little laugh. No one this small’s been this interested in him in a decade.
“Carpenter ants are well known for burrowing through wood and creating durable nests that can survive in dry environments. They’ll create a main nest for their eggs and their queen, then-”
“Ants have a queen?”
Tenna hummed an affirmative, keeping his face out of view but decreasing the volume on the narrator so he could speak. “It’s the largest ant and in charge of the whole colony.”
“Like you.”
He nodded carefully. “I’m both LARGE and in charge.”
“Oh, so you’re like Girldad.”
“Hm?”
“Susie calls her Queen, while Dad is King.”
“Oh! Oh, er, no. I mean, in a way, yes, but not anymore, or rather, um.” He flattened his antennae uncomfortably, shifting a bit. “I’m technically the queen ant status wise, but I am a man—a king. I’d prefer not to be called…girldad.”
“Alright, Antdad!”
“E-excuse me?”
“Because you can’t be Kingdad, that’s my dad, but you aren’t another Girldad, and you’re better than Lesser Dad.” Lancer clapped his hands, smiling big with his teeth barely missing his tongue. “Now keep showing me the video! I want to see the ants.”
Tenna didn’t respond as he brought the narrator back, watching Lancer go from casual interest to increased excitement as the ants began having wars between their colonies. When they got to the subspecies of carpenter ants that can explode, he laughed uproariously, pointing as their little bodies went flying.
“Cool!”
“If you think ants exploding are cool, I can show you more things going BOOM.”
“Really?!”
Tenna switched channels, reasoning with himself that Lancer can probably only handle so much learning at a time. He seemed more restless than the Dreemurrs, so they should work in doses. A reward’s always good after education. It only took a few seconds to narrow down which action movie would be appropriate for someone so young, cutting right to a scene where a car blows up with human actors going flying. Lancer was practically panting like a dog, standing to press his face into the screen. Tenna tried not to be bothered by the invasion of personal space.
“Badass,” Lancer whispered.
“Where’d you hear that word?” Tenna asked quickly, feeling his electric pulse ratchet up to high gear. He hasn’t even let Lancer see anything with a curse word yet!
“Susie.”
Oh. Children can learn from each other, not just TV. He always forgets that. Tenna relaxed again, leaning into the feeling of tiny fingers pressing into his glass. It never gets old, that tingly sensation of real touch.
But this is different from when he always had the Dreemurr and Holiday children crowded around him. He’s not just a CRT. He’s himself, with arms and legs, and he could touch them back. Tenna flexed his fingers for a second, psyching himself up, before settling one hand on Lancer’s back. He startled, turning away from the screen and towards the fingers. “Hey, you can make me a throne!”
“Sorry?”
“A throne of hands. Hand me, Antdad!”
He laughed, feeling fuzzy as he obliged. Tenna settled his fingers in a four-armed net, laying on his stomach to prop his elbows up for a personal display. Now that he thinks about it, Lightners talk about big TVs sometimes, and he could probably swing it for that better experience they brag about. Tenna reverted to his usual towering self, Lancer’s grin glistening as he fell backward to watch more vehicles pop like balloons. Tenna had to hide his smile to not ruin the display, but he found himself swinging his feet in a steady canter as he watched. Kids were so fascinating in their bell curve of enjoying television. If they’re bored, they squirm, then they stay still when invested, but if it’s good, if it’s really good, they’re jumping on the couch and pumping their fists along with music or exciting plot beats. Tenna wanted that again.
So he switched to the music channel. It probably wasn’t what Lancer expected (he wanted to keep it appropriate when Tenna doesn’t want to cause arguments between three parents over what someone can watch), but bubbly cartoon characters started opening their mouths wide to sing. Lancer broke out of his stasis from the explosions.
He’s bouncing in his seat, trying to follow the words but only blabbering nonsense. Tenna could feel the happiness coming off of him in waves. This kid isn’t stressed at all, not like Kris. He doesn’t smell like he’s been stressed for a long time.
Kris seemed to lose their scent, too, but he doesn’t get to taste the pheromones of a lot of Lightners, so maybe human ones just don’t have a trail like that. Their faces are so much more expressive anyways, so maybe they don’t need that taste in the air to show something’s wrong. Tenna kept his antennae trained on Lancer, drinking in the experience of having a participating viewer for the first time in years.
Of course he wants a Lightner audience. That feels obvious. And he does hope that Susie and Kris can find somewhere for him, so he doesn’t collect dust in a dead room again. However, if all he can do is keep a little dark boy happy…
Be his Antdad, his huge TV that holds him in multiple arms and a huge frame…
That won’t be so bad either. It could be good for him to be owned by someone who doesn’t find his usual self creepy, reminiscent of fifties monster movies about giant insects taking over the planet. He doesn’t have to pop his arms out, or shrink to look nice, or worry how the outside world is treating his viewer when he can’t crank up the sound to keep them safe—
“Antdad, do you have any television about bikes?”
This’ll keep him satisfied.