#get it. ant tenna. his name

[marsbotz]

quickly redid my addison designs + a tenna height reference. WAOW

my stupid freaks who i hate (love)

[loveletterworm]

My new picture " Tenna falls over and dies "

(He died)

[casual--art]

go my Tennas

[starleska]

tenna

[mimi--writes]

Forever Mine

—"Don't leave me..."

—In which the television you see in your dreams doesn't want you to wake up.

A/N: Someone needed to make a Yandere Tenna fic and I guess it's got to be me. See my vision, I beg of you.

CW: Yandere, Manipulation, Guilt-Tripping

——————————————————————————

The Dreemurr family's divorce is a town wide scandal, the 'incident' causing it forever an unspoken haunt to the townspeople.

To you, however, it's the reason you got this nifty little free TV.

It's cool—works just fine, though it has some parental restriction codes that were quite the inconvenience to get through, but it's free. That's right. Zero dollars. You just visited Miss Toriel one day like you thought any good neighbor would. And luckily for you, she asked if you could take her television off her hands, because no one in the family used it anymore, and it just brought back memories she didn't want.

So you helped Miss Toriel and got a free TV. Sweet.

It sits in your house, affectionately nicknamed "Tenna"—because of its long antennae that almost seem to squirm when you touch them. You know it is far from the most modern form of entertainment, but it is entertainment nonetheless, and besides—you've reluctantly grown attached to this television. Late nights on the couch, just you and it, have become commonplace. Sometimes, you even fall asleep.

And on one of those nights, the dreams begin.

You are in a place so dark it's light again—bright, saturated colors in checkered patterns marking the floors, infomercials everywhere, and tons of little flyers with the same fuzzy TV silhouette your eyes can briefly make out.

Okay, what kind of fever dream this is, you don't even know. Might as well just make the best of it.

You pick up a flyer.

"Coming Straight From Your House—Mr. (Ant) Tenna's Marvelous Mystery Board!"

Some sort of game show- wait, did that flyer just talk?

There is suddenly a spotlight on you.

"That's right!" Continues the voice, with the same chipper yet even timbre of a gameshow host. From the wall behind you pops out-

A man with a television head.

A very hot man with a television head.

You would be remiss not to admit it, really. Sure, he does, well, you know, but the TV-head is really just a bonus! On top of that surprisingly charming suit and nice ass, the TV-head fills your brain with ideas that make you wonder if you are deranged.

You decide not to give them the time of day just yet.

Meanwhile, the man with the television head continues to race about his gameshow.

"Special prizes, physical challenges, and more, only on-"

"I'm in," you say, and for all his bravado, the television man—Mister Ant Tenna from the poster, wait, your TV is named Tenna, wait, are you seriously dreaming about your TV as a hot gameshow host—startles noticeably, antennae going ramrod straight.

"You are?" He says. You nod.

"Uh, yeah. Seems cool."

He claps his hands with excitement, and suddenly, a thermometer appears on screen, immediately cracking with excitement.

"Magnificent! Splendid! The Fun-O-Meter's off the chart folks! Mike, play the applause!"

And pre-recorded applause ensues. You wonder if anyone is actually watching. Except no one is watching, because this is a dream.

You go through the motions—play the games, win the prizes. You get Z Rank, because you have what many would call a massive skill issue. But Tenna does not mind, regarding you with the patience of a saint.

The credits roll, but Tenna seems hesitant.

"Maybe- another round?" He suggests. You nod.

"When I come back," you say, before he can get the wrong idea. "Every good show needs an intermission.'

With that, you leave your dream, certain that it really was just that. A one time dream.

But then, the next late night on the couch comes, and you find yourself in that same dream once again.

Tenna's antennae droop as he speaks to you in private afterwards.

"You sure took a lot time!" He says, trying to sound cheery. It fails, though, considering the way he shrinks in discontent. "It's alright though, I get it. It was fun enough, just me and the board- I've- never been good company anyways, and-"

He's trying so hard to sound alright with it that it just makes you feel even more guilty. His antennae droop, and you avert your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the guilt from stabbing at your heart. It doesn't work.

"You're great company," you say, in lieu of asking how come it was just him and the board when he has all those employees under him. "You know what? I'll stay as many rounds as you want! Seem fair?"

Immediately, he perks up, rapidly growing in excitement, antennae perked back up.

"Absolutely wonderful!" He says. The Fun-O-Meter once again explodes. Applause roars as Tenna starts rambling.

You play and play as many bonus rounds as you can until Tenna is something akin to satisfied. At last, you wake up.

You have slept through the entire day. Angry messages await you, as a result of obligations miserably unfulfilled. You don't even want to check them.

But you do. Typing out responses and making amends.

You wish you were back there, in that dream of yours.

So you stay by the television and fall asleep once more.

And once again, Tenna greets you.

"You came by faster today, darling!" He says. You find yourself liking the nickname, if only because it is him saying it.

You nod.

"That I did."

"Miss me?" He asks, and if he had eyes you just know he'd be batting them innocently.

"No," you start, trying to set up some sort of coy flirtation, but you immediately regret it when he visibly deflates.

"Oh," he says. "I- should have seen that coming. I mean, hah, you're absolutely stellar, darling, and I'm... Just..."

"I- I didn't mean it!" You hastily amend. "I was just joking. Really, I don't even know what I was thinking; I'm sorry!"

He smiles at that, placing a tentative arm on your shoulder.

"You-" he starts, before clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure. "You won't mind if I do this, then?"

And before you can ask what he means, he's pressing a fiery, impassioned kiss to your lips.

It's half-loving, gentle, like you are the most precious thing he has ever held within his arms, half an act of possession, like he wants to lay claim to you in a way no one else can. The possessive half is carried out guiltily, you can tell, the way he gently licks at all the bites he leaves, consoles you when you yelp at the little electric shock he gives.

You've never wanted anything more.

The kiss ends, and you find a gutted sob escaping you. Tenna startles.

"Was that not alright, darling?"

"This- This can't be a dream," you say. You feel pathetic, longing for a relationship conjured up in a fantasy like this. A man born from your own furniture, who obsesses over your happiness like it is his sole priority. That can't be what you want, and yet it is. "Please don't let this be a dream."

You suddenly feel a comforting hand on your back, the touch initially sending a shock down your spine."

"It's not a dream," Tenna says, breath tickling your ear. You can only hope he's right.

You wake up with a start, dreading the day.

——————————————————————————

The relationship of your dreams is half fantasy, half nightmare. Tenna is a sweetheart, indeed he is, always fretting over your every concern and comfort, letting your worries melt away with his games and challenges.

And then sometimes he'll snap, scold you or break, and mere moments later, he'll be on his knees, begging not to leave.

"Please stay," he begs you one night, the blow of the wind that should have been pleasant chilling you to your very core. "You're all I have. Please-"

"I will," you nod, gulping. He doesn't believe you, face contorting into its familiar motion, and regardless of having no eyes, it's oh-so expressive that it immediately makes you shoot up with dread.

"Say you love me," he whispers, shaking you with a manic sort of feel. "Say it."

"I love you."

"I don't believe you."

"I- I love you," you say. "Please."

And like some sort of trance has been broken, his head jerks, the hands that were only just shaking you now cradling with the gentleness you normally know.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, kissing reverently as if that'll prove anything. "Don't leave me. Please."

You know you won't. You can't. You'll keep waking up later and later in the day, letting him take more and more out of your time. He is greedy, absolutely ravenous when it comes to you, and he'll devour you whole if that's what you offer.

And yet you offer yourself whole anyways, because you just can't say no.

Time passes. It's all a blur. You remember less and less of your day to day activities, and more and more of your dreams. Of Tenna, sweet and charismatic and pleadingly manic the next. How he beckons for you to stay even when the ring you now recognize as your alarm screams for you to wake up.

And how could you not, when his kisses are so inviting?

It all comes to a head one night.

"Stay," he murmurs, serving you dinner. You sigh.

"You know I will," you say.

"Not like that," he says. "Stay here. Forever."

"For- ever?"

Your eyes widen as the implication of his words catches up to you all too late.

These dreams- no- they're-

"I have a life back outside," you say, panicking as his antennae twitch in displeasure.

"Then you'll leave me to rot...?" He asks, falsely resigned. You gulp. You know him better by now. You know how intelligent he is. How assured.

He knows exactly what you'll say, that he knows you know but you'll do it anyways, damnit-

"That's not what I mean," you say. He sighs.

"Of course you can tell yourself that!" He says. "I really am insignificant... Just a tryst-"

"I'll stay," you say at last, acquiescing as you always have. He beams, kissing you like a touch-starved puppy, and you forget yourself for a few moments.

As far as any of your friends and family know, you will never wake up again.

But as far as you know, intoxicated by the seemingly permanent love in the air, you are the most awake you have ever been.

[spitdrunken]

'Ant' Tenna x Reader (Deltarune)

Notes: Horror undertones, but they're for things Tenna also does canonically. Happy ending...? I keep seeing people saying that this guy is going to be the new Tumblr sexyman, but I don't see anyone being feral about him yet. So. Here you go.

You’d gotten the TV from Toriel, practically for free. She’s well-known in the little town you’re renting a single-room apartment in, and had practically insisted you take it. (“My son… Is also a student, but he moved out. If he needed something, I would be happy knowing he got help from someone too,” she’d told you with a smile.)

Because, yeah, you are a struggling student, with a commute lasting about 4 hours a day, but you couldn’t afford any other place and were desperate enough to get away from home to take it. The town is beautiful and quiet, the rent is dirt cheap and the people are nice, though you can tell it’s not the same compared to if you had grown up here.

Your half a day long commute prevents you from doing much socializing, you’re always thinking about what time you’ll be home, how busy it’ll be on the roads and what the hell you’re going to be eating for dinner that night. Though, to be fair, even without that added hurdle you’ve never found approaching people the easiest. Like, ever. So, you spend a lot of time in your apartment, alone, doing homework or being online, either on the couch or in bed (which, considering they’re in the same room, kind of feel like the same thing). And, now, you have a television to add for entertainment.

It’s old. Toriel had warned you about ‘images that wouldn’t leave the screen’, and as soon as you turn the thing on there’s clear burn-in from the logos of kid’s tv channels and other things, an unfadeable memory. You can’t do a whole lot with it except watch cable… It doesn’t even have a HDMI port.

Still, you’re thankful for it and the old game consoles you’d brought with you from home out of pure nostalgia. Now you can finally dust them off and use them, remember what you loved about those games you played for hours and hours, on your own, as a kid. It feels warm and you find yourself smiling, face illuminated by the screen’s light.

But it always comes to an end. You turn it off, eyelids drooping, and the stress of your day-to-day with its rising expenses, loneliness, student debt and an already dead future career, rushes back to you all at once. You don’t want to leave your room, sometimes. It’s crushing. You don’t have any say in the matter, though, so you get up and keep going, every day practically the same. With a flicker of hope that it will, eventually, someday, get better. That’s what you’ve always been told.

One night, you fall in sleep in front of your television and have the strangest dream, one that feels as real as reality but surely cannot be. There, you’re chaperoned by a man(?) named ‘Ant’ Tenna, treated like the star of the show, the contestant in a quiz that has questions tailored specifically to your personal niche knowledge, and you absolutely blow it out of the park.

You’re not used to being the center of attention like this… Even if the crowd seems more like a mass of moving audience members, rather than actual people. Your knees are trembling for the first five questions and, even after, you struggle and stutter from time, but the host never calls you out on it. It’s surprisingly… Nice. To get this attention, to feel like you’re being acknowledged.

You linger after the show is over, unsure of what to do in the Green Room. You’re not really hungry or tired, which makes sense considering you surely must be dreaming. You wander outside, led by red carpet, and almost run straight into Tenna. He’s huge, absolutely towering over you, easily twice your height. You pull and tug a bit at your clothes as you crane your neck and smile up at him. “I wanted to say—Um, thanks for having me, mister Tenna! It was… Really fun!” Bright, white teeth shine at you from the screen that is his face. He folds his hands behind his back and leans forward, just a little. “Oh, sweetheart, just Tenna is fine! We don’t have to be all formal with each other, do we? I already feel like I know you so well!” You feel a little bit of heat rising to your face. The quiz had been perfectly finetuned to your interests… But that all makes sense, considering this is all happening in the safe confines of your brain, and this man is just a figment of your imagination. It’s all good. Tenna claps his hands in front of his body and you’re jolted from your thoughts. “If you were having such a good time, how about another round?”

And you do. You play and win at a whole variety of games, until your head is spinning—The dream seems to drag on, and on and on. More than anything, you’re having a good time shooting quips back and forth with Tenna, feeling seen and listened to. You don’t think anyone has ever laughed this hard as something you’ve said… Ever? It’s certainly flattering, to say the least, to have someone be so interested in you.

All good things must come to an end, though, and eventually you do get tired, and the life that you had temporarily left behind starts calling to you again. In your mind, it’s inevitable, so you might as well get it over with.

“Leave?” It’s the first time Tenna’s smile wavers during your… Day? Session. “But we’ve been having so much fun—” He laughs, stuttering over part of the noise. “Why do you want to leave?” His hand drums on the back of his head, making a dull clanking noise. “I can think up some more games, some more fun quizzes?!” Tenna’s voice shoots up in pitch. “We can save that for next time?” You say with a smile. This notion, the thought that you’d like to return, seems to settle Tenna somewhat. His hand drops back to his side, swaying back and forth. “Oh! You’d like to return… I mean, of course you would!” He beams at you. “I’ll—I’ll have some more time to think things over, for them to marinate! It’ll be great!!” “Yeah,” you say, a little breathless. “Thanks. Again. This was fun. I don’t…” you trail off and swallow. “I don’t really talk to a lot of people anymore. So this was really nice. Thank you.” You don't know why you say it. Perhaps because you don't think any of this is real. You've never been this vulnerable around anyone in real-life. Before you completely realise what’s happening, he lowers himself in a crouching position and pulls you into a tight hug. “I know,” he says softly. “I know. Me neither.”

You wake up with a sore neck and dried spit on your chin. It takes you a while to will your body to move. It’s heavy and sluggish. Unlike other dreams you’ve had, it remains crisp in your mind as ever. The world around you seems more gray-toned than ever in comparison to the bright colours and flourishes of the world you’d entered as you were dreaming… One where you didn’t have to worry about anything, with someone who has eyes just for you. Well, if he has eyes at all. Maybe that kind of saying would be considered offensive.

When you fall asleep that night, you do it on the couch in the exact same position, as if that were the reason behind the dream you had the night before. It takes ages for you to drift off. Embarrassingly enough, you’re so excited that your heart keeps racing. You fall asleep, going there again and again, a personal little place of peace you return to every single night. Maybe it’s all some kind of illusion your brain has conjured up to help you to cope and, if that’s the case, you could still have peace with it. You drag yourself through the days for the nights that offer relief.

“Why don’t you just stay here?” Tenna asks, eventually, uncharacteristic in his stillness. He’s an entertainer by his very nature. Even when he’s not on the stage, he’s always moving, always loud, always working to keep your attention on him. Now, he grabs your interest with nothing but quiet. “I know you’ll come back. You have so many times, but—Why even leave? What’s still waiting for you out there? A bleak future? People who don’t appreciate you? Stay with me…” For the first time since you met him, Tenna physically shrinks down in size, becoming close to your height. His head is hung low. “Please. I’d like, no, love for you to stay.” You reach up and stroke the glass of his face. “Me too. I’ll do it.” “You promise?” “Yeah. Definitely.”  He swoops you up and you screech as he suddenly increases in size once again, carrying you high up in the air all at once. As he breaks out in silly, impromptu dance moves, laughter bubbles up from your throat and fills your entire body. This is a happy ending, you tell yourself, though a little lingering bit of doubt retains. (Is this the easy way out? Have you chosen stasis over a life of infinite possibilities?) But… Well, if it’s lazy or weak or too easy, you decide that you deserve an easy life.

[urlocaldesertdweller]

(Ant) Tenna x Co-host!Reader

Headcannons (Containing Fluff and Suggestive!)

A Duo is better than a Solo, they say!

It’s Mr Ant Tenna’s TV Time, alongside his most and only favored Co-host, You!

Although you dont really share the introduction sequence, you definitely share the stage with Tenna.

Tenna introduced you with a loud cheer of your name “OH…Y/n!” and you’d burst out from the curtains with a strut and a bow. You wear a similar outfit including the bold color scheme or red and yellow/gold. (You match like a couple) The crowd loves you just as much as the charming Ant Tenna himself.

From the height difference to the personalities of the two of you made the duality of your host jobs just as fun as the games themselves! Boy did the crowd love it.

It’d be hard NOT to give in to it, especially when it dragged in more audience. More profit!

Professionalism is always assumed between two co-workers let alone two hosts. It wouldnt be until later on by episodes through odd actions between the two of you made audience question and stew up potential rumors of you and Tenna having a secret relationship! Oh the spice of it all!

From Tenna telling you: “Please Y/n! Enough with the formalities! Just call me Tenna.” Still on public screening…

The playful banter between the two of you would go on and on until it was comical and the crowd would cheer to continue on.

And dont get me started on the piles of names you’d call eachother. Darling, Baby, Honey, Sweetheart, Sweetie, Love, Dreamboat…

Although the names were said in quick fashions before moving on to a very continently distracting game with the contestants, some people caught on.

Even at the end or start of the shows Tenna would give you smalls gifts. Although they seemed to be normal things like pens, 1# Co-Host mugs, T-shirts, and coffee with color on his screen cheeks.

You and Tenna would often look at reviews of your shared show for any critiques and comments to work on, only to see the many upon many rumors posted about the not-so-secret relationship between the well known host Ant Tenna and his co-host.

As the show goes on, more and more people mention it. From people in the crowd to even the contestants making quick quips with smirks winks and all, interrupting the program. And sparking whistles and cheers spark in the room.

Despite both of you being used to being put on the spot. Either of you would flush with embarrassment while the other would stutter to explain.

(Tenna would usually be the silent one before going into his stutter spasm like how he encounter Spamton) While you’d mostly speak for him as the show suddenly cut to a commercial break.

You both shared his office for breaks, after work, before work…and honestly anytime you both aren’t working on stage. Which was another rumor coming from an actual worker. it was true with literal proof. The proof being a frantically taken picture of both you and Tenna rushing into his office.

Although it was true, you both still denied it to the ground.

It was becoming tense between you and Tenna, hiding in his office, you and him are both disheveled from running away from the press. Every-time you share a look it ends with a quick looking away into a corner.

You weren’t sure if this romantic rodeo could go any longer. You know that Tenna had been expressing his feeling through his small actions, but despite his large personality…

You would be the one to push for it.

…

…

…

Damn it all.

You strut towards the sweating Tenna like how you strut across the stage everyday as muffled press can be heard. Its time to make this thing become reality.

Tenna doesn’t notice you walking over as he tries to fix his antenna which seems to have gotten bent.

He notices and questions when you grab his hand and lead him to sit on his desk giving you more to work with. The iconic shiny red coat of his tightens with every deep breath of his.

You step between his long legs.

He watched you from above, slowly connecting the dots in his head. He jumps when you grab hold of his tie and give it a good tug…

He yells some of his comical words, force of habit from being on show half of his life. As he cranes his head down even lower to meet your face. He smiles even cracking a joke about how crazy it’d be if the press walked in on the two of you…

You confirm with Tenna that you dont care anymore with the rumors, assumptions, teasing, everything.

As you place a comforting hand on his thigh, you go on your toes to reach his lips in for a kiss.

“Oh mama..”

Its short, you feel a fuzziness on your lips. You want more.

He adjusts on the desk and places a hand on your neck and chin. He wants more to, you can see it with the dopey smile on his screen.

“Oh my co-host. You love me.”

You push for a deeper kiss and you catch him off guard with a muffled noise that soon turns into a noise of pleasure and satisfaction.

You feel his gloved hands move lower and lover to lift you onto his thighs for better angle. The kiss deepens, a hand of yours naturally snakes to push his coat off and he groans.

Besides listening to Tenna shift and grow more desperate you hear knocking and occasional talking of multiple people.

The press, in a way, you want them to walk in and see the Tenna make out with his co-host.

You get desperate, you want to ruin Tenna. You push into into the desk making with a yelp of surprise makes any loose paperwork slide off. The crowd behind the door grows more impatient, banging occurs.

God Tenna looks so hot beneath you. He looks at the door then at you clearly nervous. You calm him down, actually you only made him more turned on with what you did.

You push your body against his, a hand grips his antenna firmly making his body arch into your with drawn out moan, the other hand undos his tie. All this as you shove your tongue into his mouth.

He whines, trying very hard to not bite into your tongue with his fangs.

A leg of yours slips from his pants and falls into his crotch making his writhe in your arms and moan graciously.

The door slams open and people take in a second to realize what they bursted in for.

They watch their favorite Co-host grip Tenna’s antennas as he disheveled and dry humps co-hosts knee.

Most take pictures and then quickly leave. The show is going to be more popular than ever.

Duos are better than solos!

[theofthevalley]

hi! can i request hcs of tenna with a gn reader who loves matching items with him? (for example like accessories or clothes). uty to decide whether the reader is lightner or darkner!

“It’s A Match!”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Mr. Ant Tenna Headcanon’s with GN Darkner!Reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You were a big fan of a certain TV’s gameshow, it was to the point where you would buy or even make outfits or items just so you could match with him. His suit? Oh, you have a handmade one similar to it! It’s gotten to the point where you look like you’re cosplaying him sometimes, which wasn’t really out of the ordinary. Of course, you tend to tone it down in public; you couldn’t go out looking like a super fan.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ But at one of his shows? You’re in the crowd jumping around and cheering his name when he comes up on stage, whilst wearing a red suit similar to his own. Today, his shows were a bit different; usually, he has contestants already in their places on stage, but it seemed like he was pulling contestants from the audience today. You had somehow managed to get picked from the array of people, and then you realized how embarrassing it was that you were sort of matching with him once you stepped up on the stage.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Tenna, of course, immediately noticed and made a comment about it out loud to the whole audience. You stand behind the stand in embarrassment, but at least you were there, standing in front of your idol and even participating in his show!

“Look at that, folks! Aren't you something, we're matching!”

“Uh yeah! I did it on purpose since I'm such a big fan, but I wouldn't have imagined being up here.”

That was your first meeting with Tenna, as a contestant on his show. Soon, he saw you again and again in the crowd. You weren't lying when you said you were his biggest fan; most of the people in the crowd he had to bribe with points to stay, and yet you were just there because you enjoyed his shows.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ The more you attended his shows, the more he saw you. And that caused him to focus on you, especially when you're in the audience cheering him on and clapping for him. From then on, he was looking forward to seeing you. After some more time, you somehow became friends with him, and that allowed for more matching. You gave him matching friendship bracelets, matching clothes, and other accessories.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Tenna found the whole matching thing cute and fun. It was always a question of what you would match with and how you would present it. The closer you got to him, the easier it was to match. Oh, you want to wear matching ties one day? He's already on it, thinking about what patterns there are to choose. But since you were friends now, it was just small stuff here and there. A tie or maybe even a bracelet, small things to match with in friendship! But, the more your relationship grew to something more romantic, the more you ended up matching with him.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Once you're in an established relationship with Tenna, he won't ever let you go. If anything, matching with him makes him more attached to you. Especially if it gets to the point where you match in jewelry. Tenna was actually the one who asked you to wear a ring for him out of the blue, one that matches the one he suddenly bought.

“Y/N! Darling, look, I got us matching rings!”

“Oh, these are beautiful, Tenna, but why'd you get these? As far as I'm aware, there's no special occasion.”

“Aha, that’s where you're wrong! This is a special occasion, me giving this ring to you, a promise of our future together.”

“Ohh, Tenna…you’re too sweet.”

So now you've gained a new item, a promise ring. It held sentimental value, and it was the most important matching accessory you had. It made everything all the more real. Your love and adoration for one another were shown by the things you shared. So receiving a gift like this from him was more than you could ask for.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ From then on, for a few weeks or so, Tenna spent a good minute at least once on his show talking about his amazing partner and the ring they share. Or he would mention that he's matching with you today to the audience. He basically makes it apparent to everyone that your lovers and no one else should be matching with you besides him. Tenna adores every aspect of matching with you, and there's no shot he would decline your offer to match with him. With Tenna, he will 100% match with you even if the outfit looks ridiculous.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Advertisement: Hey you! Yeah you, the person who read this whole thing, do you like Tenna? Well this blog is THE place for Tenna fanfiction. Check my bio if I have requests open and my rules. I HAVE MY ASKS OPEN JUST FOR HIM RAHHH!!

A/N: Me when I make up scenarios for asks...anyways! I hope you liked this, dear Anon! WOO!!!

Word Count: 773 words

[bananasplit133]

Dial T for Tenna (Part 3)

PART 1 -- PART 4 -- (Ao3)

'Ant' Tenna/Reader

Summary: After a rough show, Tenna begins to unravel. The reader doesn’t fix him — just stays. In the quiet aftermath, they suggest letting the show get messy and real. Tenna doesn’t push them away. By the end, something shifts — a small moment of trust.

---------

The studio felt heavier in the morning light. Not dark, not dramatic—just quiet in a way that settled under your skin. Yesterday’s chaos had scrubbed through the space and left it drained. No stagehands yelling over each other, no costume racks rolling across the floors, no soundtrack cues looping too loud from the speakers. Just silence and the low, ambient thrum of equipment left on overnight, humming like it was trying to fill the space left behind.

You were in one of the smaller production rooms, the kind used for early auditions and cast reviews. The overhead lights buzzed faintly. Your tablet sat on the table beside a half-drunk can of soda, its screen scattered with contestant profiles. Most of them were the usual junk—wannabe influencers, college kids trying too hard to be edgy, people clearly just looking to get a clip on the air. But a few looked like they might actually be worth something. One girl listed her only skill as "causing problems on purpose," and for once, that didn’t feel like a red flag. At least she’d match the tone of the show.

You were highlighting her file when the door opened behind you. No knock. Just the slow creak of hinges and the soft scrape of shoes on tile. You didn’t have to turn to know it was him.

Tenna stood in the doorway, still. Not posing, not performing. His screen was on—bright, flat white—but dimmer than usual, like someone had turned the contrast down. No flicker, no glitching. Just... dull light.

“Am I canceled?” he asked.

You paused. “What?”

He stepped into the room, hands deep in his coat pockets, the way he got when he didn’t want to look like he cared too much. “Yesterday,” he said. “The show. I assume it tanked. Viewers hate when something real slips through. They want the act. The flash. Not... whatever that was.”

You set the tablet down slowly. “No one’s canceling anything.”

Tenna didn’t sit. He leaned against the table near the wall, screen angled toward the screens playing silent cuts of the episode. He watched without really watching—familiar images, half-processed. Static danced faintly across his screen for a second, then cleared. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.

“They booed. I haven’t heard a crowd turn like that since the stunt episode where we dropped a guy into a pit of glitter and he didn’t come back up.”

You glanced at him, but his expression didn’t change. “They didn’t boo you. They booed the moment. The pacing. Maybe the contestants. But not you.”

“That’s generous.”

“It’s true.”

He didn’t respond. Just watched the looped footage for a while, jaw tense. You could feel the weight pressing on him, the kind that builds when a performer who’s built their entire world out of a persona starts to doubt the foundation. Tenna wasn’t just the host. He was the show, its identity, its tone. And when the crowd turned, when the laughter gave way to discomfort—something cracked.

Eventually, he said, “I spent the whole night wondering if I should’ve just stayed in character. Thrown a chair. Cut to commercial. Screamed at the camera until the lights fried out. Something. Anything.”

“That wouldn’t have fixed it.”

“No,” he said. “But it would’ve been on brand.”

You leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “You’re not just a brand, Tenna.”

He scoffed, but it didn’t land right. The sarcasm had no heat behind it.

You picked up the tablet and slid it across the table toward him. “I went through the applications this morning. Found a few who might actually work. Not plants. Not polished. Just... strange. Raw.”

Tenna didn’t take the tablet, but he glanced down at it. Read a name or two. One eyebrow lifted slightly. “This one just wrote, ‘I want to make noise and break things.’”

You nodded. “She’s already more honest than half the people we’ve put on the floor.”

He was quiet for a moment, then pushed off the table and finally sat down. His posture was slouched, screen still dim, but there was movement again—thought behind the silence. You could see the gears starting to turn, even if they were slow.

“And what?” he said. “We just throw them in and let the show unravel itself?”

“Maybe. Maybe we stop chasing the version of the show that everyone expects. No more fake twists. No more forced drama. Let things actually go wrong. Let the show be real.”

“You say that like it’s revolutionary.”

“It kind of is. For this place.”

He tapped the edge of the tablet, not looking at you. “You think that’s what they want? The audience? Real?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I think it’s what you need. And I think people can tell the difference.”

The screen stayed white. Still quiet. But you thought—just barely—you could hear the low, rising buzz from within it. Like something rebooting. Not loud. Not fast. Just enough to know that something hadn’t broken completely.

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and let out a breath. “Alright. Let’s see if we can make a mess worth watching.”

You didn’t say anything. Just watched him. Something about the line sat in your ribs a little longer than you expected — not deep or profound, just… tired, in a way you recognized. Like someone who knew the show must go on but had stopped caring whether anyone clapped. That made it easier to breathe, strangely. You leaned back a little, hands still loosely knotted in your lap, and let the quiet stretch out.

Eventually, you shifted. “Mess is already halfway made,” you muttered, more to yourself than him. “Might as well try to steer it somewhere.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t laugh. But there was a small twitch — shoulder or head, you weren’t sure — like maybe he’d heard you and didn’t completely hate the sound of your voice. You’d take that. You weren’t expecting trust. You barely expected conversation at this point. But the lights were still on, the static hadn’t come back, and he wasn’t sending you out of the room with some manufactured PR smirk. It was the quiet kind of progress. The kind nobody clapped for.

The silence wasn’t as tense as before. It sat between you like an old coat thrown over a chair. There, but not pressing. You exhaled and let your posture go a little slack. You weren’t here to fix him. You couldn’t. That wasn’t the job. Or maybe it was — it was hard to tell. Nobody had given you a real definition for “emotional liaison,” and frankly, the people who coined the term probably didn’t know either. They just needed someone who wouldn’t crumble the second Tenna glitched out on them. Someone who wouldn’t run. You weren’t sure if that meant you were brave or just too stubborn to leave.

Tenna stood up eventually, slow and deliberate. The screen stayed white — not glowing, not dead, just... there. He didn’t look at you. Not directly. But he hovered a second longer than you thought he would before heading to the door. Hand on the frame, head turned just slightly.

“If they sent you to keep me from falling apart,” he said, “they should’ve started a lot sooner.”

You swallowed a response. Not because you didn’t have one, but because most of what came to mind would’ve sounded either too soft or too smug. Instead, you stood too, brushing off the back of your pants out of habit.

“They didn’t send me for that,” you said. “They sent me because they don’t know what else to do with you.”

A pause. A small one. Then a low sound — not quite a laugh. Not quite static either.

He left the office, and for the first time all day, it didn’t feel like you were being shut out.

You didn’t go straight back to your desk. You wandered the halls for a while instead, giving the building time to settle. Tenna moved fast when he was onstage, but off it, everything felt like waiting. Like the whole place held its breath until he made the next move. Even now, it felt like the walls were listening.

You ended up in one of the green rooms — not the fancy ones meant for guests, but one of the half-forgotten corners where unused props went to die. Beige walls. Stained couch. A coffee table that looked like it had seen things. You dropped into the cushions without grace, legs stretched out, and pulled your badge off your neck. It hit the floor with a soft plastic clack.

You didn’t want to think about what just happened. Not in a big dramatic way — just in the way your brain starts poking holes when it’s too quiet. You’d shown up here thinking maybe you’d sit Tenna down, talk him through whatever spirals he kept trying to mask with ratings and glitter and half-scripted rants. Help him “stabilize.” That was the word they’d used. As if he were a tower with a crack in the middle. But he wasn’t a structure. He wasn’t even something you could brace. He was sharp edges and ancient tape reels and burnout with a spotlight baked into his bones. And honestly, you weren’t sure you were any more stable than he was.

Still. You were here.

You didn’t see him again until the next day.

He didn’t acknowledge you when you walked into the studio. Not right away. He was already pacing the main set, notes in hand — except you were pretty sure they weren’t even real notes. Just a prop clipboard. Some days he liked pretending things were organized. Maybe that was part of the act. You didn’t interrupt. Just leaned against the wall off-stage and watched as the crew moved like background noise around him. Most of them didn’t talk to him, just took their marks and waited. You saw one of the interns flinch when he walked by, even though he hadn’t said a word.

You sighed, then pushed yourself off the wall. Stepped out toward him.

“New suit,” you said, nodding the… different shade of red suit. “Going for hostile game show host or vaguely threatening bank manager?”

Tenna didn’t look at you. But he paused, the barest hitch in his steps.

“Figured I’d try competence for once,” he said. “You should try it sometime.”

You almost smiled. “I’m more of a chaos intern, personally.”

Another beat of silence. Then, barely audible over the hum of equipment, came the sound of him exhaling through his nose. Not a laugh. But not nothing.

The shoot that day was rough — the crowd was flat, the guest was worse, and the writers clearly hadn’t slept. Tenna handled it like he always did: sharp, fast, aggressive enough to keep things from collapsing completely. You stayed off to the side, not jumping in unless you had to. That felt like the deal now. You weren’t there to smooth things over or take over the controls. You were just there. An extra presence in his field of view. Something he could bounce off if he wanted. Or ignore. It was a weird job, but weird felt normal now.

When the lights finally went down, he stayed in place for a few seconds. Not dramatic. Just... unwilling to move. Like if he kept still long enough, maybe he wouldn’t have to go back to being whoever he was when the cameras stopped rolling.

You crossed over without saying anything. Handed him a bottle of water you’d swiped from catering. He took it, didn’t thank you — just cracked the seal and drank like someone trying to fill the silence in his chest.

Then, softly, almost like he was testing the shape of the words in his mouth:

“You’re still here.”

You looked at him, not smiling, not smug. “Should I leave?”

A pause. His screen flickered — faint static, like a single breath caught in the wires.

“No.”

Not a command. Not a plea. Just a simple, honest refusal. It was enough to crack the armor he usually kept wrapped tight around that flickering head of his.

You stayed quiet for a moment, letting that word hang between you. It wasn’t much, but it was something—less a promise, more a truce. The kind you make with someone who’s not quite ready to give up but isn’t quite sure they want company either. You could see it in the way his screen settled back into that dull white glow, the static fading like a slow exhale. It wasn’t victory or defeat. It was just... presence. And maybe, for the first time, that was enough.

You shifted on your feet, feeling the weight of the day settle deeper into your bones. This wasn’t a story about quick fixes or pep talks. There was no magic phrase, no brilliant plan that could stitch up whatever was fraying inside him. You both knew that. You weren’t here to patch a broken machine—you were here to stick around while it sputtered and, maybe, figured itself out. That was your job now. And while you still didn’t know what it really meant to be an “emotional liaison,” you were starting to understand it was less about fixing and more about showing up.

He finally looked over, just a flicker of motion, but enough to catch your gaze. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. Not a question, not a statement of fact, but something softer, almost vulnerable. Like admitting it felt less like a sentence and more like relief. You met his screen with a steady look. “No plans to.” You wanted to say more—something about sticking through the mess, through the noise—but the words felt too big, too forced. So you let the silence say what you couldn’t.

For a long while, you both just sat there, two figures caught in the quiet after the storm. Outside, the studio was waking up again, lights flicking on and the distant murmur of footsteps and voices. But in this small room, time stretched differently—slower, deeper. You weren’t sure where this fragile truce would lead, or how long it would last, but for now, it was enough to break the silence without filling it with empty noise. Sometimes that was the hardest part: just being there, steady and unyielding, while everything else spun out of control. And somehow, sitting there with Tenna, watching his screen settle into something less hostile, you felt a flicker of something close to hope. Not the kind they sell on TV. Just the quiet kind that holds, even when the signal’s weak.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, the faint buzz inside his screen the only sound between you. Then, like a crack in the static, he finally said, “You’re... my Patch.” The words came out almost like a confession, and you caught that slight hesitation in his tone, like he was saying something he didn’t quite mean to admit. “My Patch.” He repeated it, slower this time, as if tasting the weight of the nickname, the unexpected warmth it brought despite the usual coldness he wore like armor.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Your…Patch?” You raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto your lips. “Well, isn’t that cute.”

His screen flickered—just a little, a subtle blush in digital form—and for a second, he looked almost flustered, like he wasn’t used to letting something so... human slip through. He shifted on his feet, then muttered, voice low and reluctant, “I-It’s because you’re… the fix. The patch that keeps me from cr – Don’t make it weird.”

You grinned, standing up to meet him halfway. “Too late for that. But hey, I’ll take it.”

He shifted again, like the weight of the day was still there but somehow lighter now. “Go home and rest,” he said quietly, the words almost an order but soft at the edges. The flicker in his screen felt like a small, shy smile.

You gave him a cheeky look, pushing off the wall as you headed for the door. “Can’t rest without watching some TV first.” The grin stayed on your face long after you left the room, and you thought maybe—just maybe—Tenna wasn’t so alone in the quiet after all.

-----

TAGLIST: @fallendove @theilluminatidragonqueen @sacru-tainted @thefiasco-onyourblock

[bravehyde]

Ant Tenna Mike Anatomy: More Than Fan Theory References

~Deltarune Chapters 3+4 Spoilers~

We're taking a sideline from Tenna anatomy to talk about the Mikes, although the things I say in here may be helpful to Tenna artists anyways, so I'll put it under the tag. The Mike boss fight made me freak out over how these lil guys work. I've been going crazy about how these Mikes look and how they're little references to other stuff going on in audio equipment, so I'm going to go over that.

Before that, I'm going to just say one thing. Obviously, I know that the three Mike designs are based off of fan theories. I'm going to go over their possible inspirations in the world of microphones, though. This is really just me having fun with it.

The Names of the Mikes

This is what I found so cool. So, we have Battat, Pluey, and Jongler. Now, say those out loud, paying attention to how each one makes your mouth move. Did you notice something? Each name has incredibly different phonetics, meaning that their sounds and mouth movements vary wildly. They include sounds that you really want to make sure are good when you're doing a mic check. Or maybe, a Mike Check.

When testing sound, one of many things you have to do is to make sure all ranges of words you can say will come through clearly. You may have heard "check check 1 2 3", which is a good way to start but most people don't find it satisfactory and continue to full on sentences. If you have to go quickly, nonsense words with a variety of sounds will work great. AKA, their names. I don't think you need me to go through each name with their noises, but each name covers every type of vowel sound, and has the potential of spanning any pulmonic consonant, depending on your personal accent. I don't think Toby went through the international phonetic alphabet doing this on purpose or anything, but these are excellent names for sound checks and it's crazy.

Battat (Small Mike)

There are two different types of microphones he can be, and both are used primarily by people who need to be recorded saying lines in television. One is the dynamic microphone, and one is a lavalier microphone.

The dynamic microphone is easy to understand. You hold it, you talk into it. That's what he's holding, and it's probably what his head is supposed to be, too. However, I'm sure not everyone want to draw that tedious grid on his head. In that case, I wanted to offer the lavalier as an alternative for his dome.

The lavalier is hidden in someone's clothes, like through a button or under a shirt, and plugs into a pack that the person straps to their belt or in a back pocket to record and get power. These things are like a soft foam because of the windscreen, that black ball there, and don't tell anybody but they're very satisfying to pop in your mouth. So it makes sense, as the supposed "lead" Mike, to be two of the most recognizable microphones for people who work in television. Shows on sets and interviews will use these microphones the most.

Pluey (Cat Mike)

THIS is the one who is the reason why I wanted to make this post. Now. I know that he's a cat because of the theory he would be a cat. But everyone. GUYS. LISTEN. I need everyone to know that there is a piece of audio equipment that is literally called a deadcat.

You put the deadcat over a shotgun/boom mic to help it with wind and excess noise filtration. It makes sound better, basically, and if Pluey here is a deadcat, that makes him ANOTHER very important microphone to the broadcasting world. This thing is key to picking up sound effects and foley. If you're doing anything outside, you want a boom with a deadcat on you.

About his hands: again, very well could be a dynamic microphone, and again, that's a bit hard to draw, no? I wanted to offer another idea I had just in case you didn't want to deal with that grid. A deadcat is a type of windshield, much like what I talked about with lavaliers. When you're working in a studio as an alternative to deadcats, you may use a pop filter over a dynamic or condenser microphone. They're flat, easy to render as far as I can tell, and they match the shape of Pluey's hands, so it isn't a stretch of the imagination to say it could be a pop filter. Or maybe if sphere hands is too weird, pop filter paw pads. Just so you have some options.

Jongler (Motormouth Mike)

This one's a bit tougher since he could be a lot of types of microphones, but technically he's missing something he'd need to be them. He could be a lavalier but they don't have the texture shown when the windscreen is taken off. He could be a ribbon microphone but they have a strip of metal up the sides that he's missing. He could be a shotgun, but they don't have that silvery base. This guy is the sole reason why this post took so long, because he's such a headscratcher. Ultimately, I had to take the boxing gloves as a visual cue and decide to look for what sports commentators would use. I don't think a lot of people know about lip ribbon mics and he's obviously not that anyway, so we'll go with something more common. If he's supposed to be an allusion to boxing matches, they used ribbon microphones, which later got phased out for condenser microphones. It's not a perfect fit with his head so long, so we'll chalk that up to stylisation.

The condenser microphone is best for in a recording booth, and if we choose to believe that's what Jongler's supposed to be, that means we've covered the three biggest areas where someone would need a variety of microphones based on how controlled the environment is. A studio with a condenser is the best you can get, hopefully with lots of foam and someone on the other side of some glass controlling the sound. Then we have lavaliers and dynamic microphones on the set, where some interference could happen but it's minimal. Finally, boom and shotgun microphones are for outdoors and large sources of sound, where you have the least amount of say in what gets picked up so you're kind of hoping for the best. Pretty great variety in microphones if this was intentional, and if not...I just want more people to know that their accidental theory of Mike being a cat led to a really funny audio engineering pun to me and only me.

[fluffleetoast]

hellloo everyone!! I loved the new deltarune chapters and got inspired to write something :) hope you enjoy!

⚠️⚠️ SLIGHT DELTARUNE CHAPTER 3 SPOILERS! ⚠️⚠️

Quiz Time!

Lee Kris / Ler Susie and Ler Ralsei

Word Count: 1,133

During one of Tenna’s quizzes the Fun Gang find out an interesting fact about Kris.

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

“Hey! Watch where you’re throwing that!”

“Oops.”

Ralsei, Kris, and Ralsei were sitting on a couch with Mr. Ant Tenna, playing the Marvelous Mystery Board. They tapped away on their game controllers as they played as a pixelated version of themselves. Susie was currently throwing pots in the game as Ralsei’s character ran around, trying to dodge them.

“Susie! You’re making me lose HP!” Ralsei yelled as another pot hit him. Susie laughed and threw the last pot, Ralsei dodging it. They walked to the next area, a blue swirly enemy standing there to greet them.

“Quiz Vortex! Watch out!” Tenna pointed.

Kris tried to get away but the vortex ran straight at them, transporting the three to a quiz. They all stood at their respective podiums with Tenna standing off to the side with quiz cards.

“Question one! What’s the color of my tie? No peaking! Is it A. Red, B. Yellow, C. Blue, or D. Green?” Tenna’s colors turned to grayscale as he asked the question. All three contestants chose B.

“Correct! My tie is yellow! It matches my shoes,” Tenna smiled, his colors returning to normal. “Next question! What’s the name of this annoying guy? Is it A. Roxles Card, B. Rocks Curd, C. Rouxls Kaard, or D. Lancer?”

Kris and Ralsei right away selected Rouxls Kaard. Susie selected Rocks Curd for a second before looking at the other two and quickly changing to the same answer.

“Interesting! So that’s his name. I’ll have to let security know that!” Tenna turned to the audience as they laughed. With the Fun gang winning two for two, It was now time for the final question.

“Question three! What is Kris’ secret weakness? Is it A. They’re scared of bugs, B. They’re allergic to cats, C. They hate vegetables, or D. They’re ticklish!”

Kris couldn’t help but blush a bit at the answer choices. What kind of a question is this?! Their cheeks burned even more as they felt Susie staring at them. They didn’t select an answer. They knew the correct answer but didn’t want to choose it. They liked bugs, were definitely not allergic to cats, and were fine with vegetables. 

“Come on, Kris, don’t be shy now! Time’s running out!” Tenna encouraged. 

Susie kept going back and forth between answers. “Yeah, dude, pick something! Shouldn’t you know this?”

Kris selected bugs with Ralsei and Susie following them. An incorrect buzzer played. 

"C’mon, Kris! How could you get this wrong? Don’t you remember all the tickle fights you and Asriel used to have? Wrestling around on the floor, laughing your heads off? Asriel usually won, but you didn’t mind, didn’t you Kris!” Tenna smiled as he recalled the happy memories. Kris blushed harder, wishing they could cover their face in something. 

Susie looked at them, surprised. The quiet and stoic Kris rolling around on the floor and giggling? Susie had barely even heard them laugh before. “Kris..? Is this true?” Kris looked the other way.

Ralsei smiled at their shyness and tried to comfort them, “Aw you don’t have to be ashamed, Kris! Everyone is ticklish!” However it just made Kris more embarrassed. 

The quiz results disappeared with the trio plus Tenna sitting back on the couch playing the game board. Kris played as normal, trying to ignore the quick side glances Susie was giving them. They should have known she wouldn’t have just let valuable information like this go. 

Suddenly, Susie lunged at them causing Kris to drop their controller. She towered over them, her pink claws digging into their sides. The human gasped and squeezed their mouth shut. They weren’t used to this sensation, it’s been so long since they last got tickled. They resisted the urge to squirm as much as possible and bit their lip, desperate to not let out any noise. Susie scribbled higher, Kris smiling and covering their mouth. Ralsei couldn’t help but smile as well as he watched. 

“Ralsei, help me out!” Susie yelled to him.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, get over here! I almost cracked them!”

“Wouldn’t Kris be mad at me?” Ralsei worried.

“Nah. Now come help or you’re next,” Susie threatened, flashing a toothy grin. 

Ralsei gulped and scooted over. He didn’t have much experience with tickling, only using it in ACTs in battle occasionally, but he’d try! Plus, it would be pretty endearing to see Kris smiling and laughing. The Prince from the Dark grinned as his fluffy paws lightly descended onto Kris’s stomach right below where their chest plate ended. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!” He teased sweetly.

This is what did it. The white furry paws had a more gentler touch than the pair of paws Kris knew and loved, but it was still reminiscent of their childhood. “H-Hahaha! Nohoho!” They broke, a small stream of giggles spilling from their mouth as they squirmed around on the couch.

“Aww, how adorable! Just like old times!” Tenna cooed. He had a big smile on his face, the sight reminding him of happy memories. “MIKE, make sure you’re getting this!”

Kris tried to push off Susie’s hands but she was too strong. They turned side to side as claws danced across their ribs and paws scribbled over their stomach and sides. Susie smiled at their laughter, it was nice hearing them giggle so much. It was honestly pretty cute.

“Go for their underarms, It’s KILLER! Do you remember, Kris? Asriel always called this your weak spot! As soon as he tickled there you would beg for mercy!”

Kris’s eyes widened as Tenna spoke. “No-Noho!” They cried out but it was too late. Susie had grabbed their wrists and held them above their head. 

“Get ‘em Ralsei!”

Ralsei gave a kind but mischievous look. “If you say so! Sorry, Kris!” He apologized although he didn’t sound sorry at all.

Kris gasped as Ralsei attacked, their loud laughter overpowering the music from the video game. They tried to desperately control their legs instinctually kicking so they didn’t hurt Ralsei. 

“Wow, Tenna was right huh?” Susie smiled as Kris let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal. “Woah! Kris, was that you? It sounded like Ralsei!”

“Aw! That was cute, Kris!” Ralsei fawned making Kris turn pink.

“Ohokay, Ohokay! Uhuncle!!” Kris surrendered. Susie let go of their wrists and Ralsei stopped tickling, letting Kris catch their breath. 

“Wasn’t that just ADORABLE folks!? Let’s give a hand for KRIS!” Tenna announced. The audience cheered and applauded. “Thanks for that nostalgic walk down memory lane! Now, let's get back to the game!”

Kris would never admit it, but it was actually nice being tickled again. It reminded them of their childhood, filling them with warm, happy feelings as the memories flooded back. Ralsei and Susie did not need to know that though. Although they probably could figure it out.

[checkthescript]

IT'S NOW TIME FOR OUR FEACHER PRESENTATION

Have you ever wanted to be a

on the BIG SCREEN!?

Well NOW IS YOUR CHANCE!

Ladies, germs, bacteria of all configurations! Listen closely, because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you DON'T want to miss! Now is your chance to step right up on the stage beside your favourite TV host, Mister "Ant" Tenna, LIVE on air!

Ask him questions! Give him a hug! Cover him in substances of unknown origin! (What? What???? NO????????? Mike, that wasn't part of the-)

BUT, you better ACT fast to claim your spot in the spotlight; slots are filling up quick! They're practically overflowing! (It's spilling everywhere! It's EVERYWHERE!)

What are you waiting for!? Come on over to the studio NOW! Join us for this history-making TV special that everyone is sure to remember... Forever! Come make YOUR appearance on everyone's favourite show, Mister Ant Tenna's...

✨THE MOST HIGH-STAKES GAME SHOW YOU'LL EVER PLAY✨ It's much more fun, I must confess, when lives are on the line; Not mine of course, but Tenna, oh boy, now that'd be just fine. TENNA CURRENT STATS Status: FEELING LIKE A MILLION POINTS HP: 5500/5500 AT: 13 DF: 4 Equipped: Glittery red heart sticker Height: 13 ft Weight: 539 lbs / 38.5 stone / 245 kg Number of repairs to date: 1 Number of resets to date: 0

Blog status: Business as usual. Magic Anon Effect: None. Number of RESETs: 0 Current Blog Mood Jam: I'm Still Standing // Everybody Loves Me

TAGS #feature presentation — Business as usual, progress in main story. #panic! in static! — Tenna's getting a little unhinged, be it fear, anger, or what have you. #out manic! — Tenna's freaking completely out. #don't you find it all romantic — People are swooning over Tenna or there are things related to romance. #mike's yappin — Interactions directed at the Mike crew. #small mike — Interactions directed specifically at Small Mike (Battat Mike). #ramb chats — Interactions directed at Ramb. #pippins parlour — Interactions directed at the Pippinses. #38 — Interactions directed specifically at Pippins 38. #audience tag — Interactions with someone's OC named Audience. #angel tag — Interactions with someone's OC named Angel. #friday tag — Interactions with someone's OC named Friday. #biscuit tag — Interactions with someone's OC named Biscuit. #engineer tag — Interactions with someone's Engineer character. #janitor tag — Interactions with someone's Janitor character. #can't show that on live tv — An asker has sent in something suggestive. Straight up explicit material will not be posted. Do not send in explicit imagery or links. You will be blocked. #check the script — OOC posts. Will keep these to a minimum. Will update this list as we go along. #it's silly time! — Silly posts that aren't actually part of any story. If I can't have whimsy what is the point even supposed to be. Frequent fliers will get their own tags.

BLOG ACHIEVEMENTS 24/06/2025 — Tenna died in a horrible pipe bomb accident! 24/06/2025 — The blog reached 100 followers!! 25/06/2025 — Mister Ant Tenna is BACK, baby!!! 26/06/2025 — 100 posts achieved! 26/06/2025 — We have hit 100 asks in the box! YOWZA!!

Other Things to KEEP IN MIND: -The characters featured on this blog can die permanently! Be careful with them! Or don't. Your call. I won't make it easy for you, though! >:) -Tenna is the main character on this blog, sure, but you can send asks to the staff, too! I'm sure Ramb and the Mikes would love to talk to you as well. -Tenna will remember you if you give yourself an Anon signoff or ask him something off of Anon. If you want to have a positive relationship with Tenna, remember to keep all your misdeeds to Anon! -Tenna has an inventory! If you give him something he likes, he'll keep it! If his inventory is full or something is too big, it'll stay somewhere in the studio. -You're never bothering the admin! Send in as many asks as you want, feel free to like spam, etc—it's all fine with me. I'm very selective about private long-term roleplays, but if you're interested in one, feel free to PM me with an inquiry. Yume/selfship/x-reader flavour things are fine with me as long as everyone involved is an adult. I'm NOT groovy with pr×ship, dark, etc. As long as we understand each other in that way, everything should be fine. -If a Major Plot Event is taking too long to progress, I'll progress it myself! No offense is meant towards the other folks in the roleplay, I just want to keep the story trucking along, especially if it's a situation that has disabled Tenna or other characters involved.

[theloganator101]

As stated in the last post, I recently finished playing through Chapter 3 of Deltarune where it features this character as the chapter's main antagonist named Mr. "Ant" Tenna.

This post is going to cover why Mr. Tenna makes for a more threatening and compelling antagonist for the chapter he's featured in, than Vox does or will be in Hazbin Hotel.

And I will be putting the rest of this post under Keep Reading since this WILL feature spoilers for the chapter and I highly recommend you either play the game or watch a playthough of it for yourself. Now with that out of the way, let's talk about Mr. Tenna.

For starters, let's go over just who even is Mr. Tenna. Like I said before he serves as the chapter's antagonist in how he wants Kris and their friends to keep participating in his show and keep them from getting to the fountain.

After Kris and the others decide that enough is enough, Tenna starts to go off the deep end and order his workers to be capture them. Eventually his outbursts started to push his workers away to where he has nobody else to work for him, and once you confront him for the final time, he explains why he's doing all this.

He was previously used for the families to gather around and watch Christmas Specials, and he enjoyed the focus being on him. But as the years passed less and less people started to watch tv less, with nobody to watch the shows he had anymore. That was why he was so desperate in wanting to bring excitement to the gang and remind Kris of the good times.

His powers are what you would expect from a character centered around television. His powers relate to changing the channel to different types of shows and even some electricity.

So in conclusion, in one lengthy chapter, Mr. Tenna was able to be a fully fleshed out, fully enjoyable, and compelling antagonist that all circles back around to him being a television. An old television that just wants to provide good entertainment like back in the past.

...

And now we get to Vox. He's established to be an Overlord like Alastor and runs the television programs of the city, getting people involved through hypnotism. He's even a part of a big group called the Three Vees with Valentino and Velvette.

Other than sending Sir Pentious to the Hotel to be a spy (And failing), he doesn't really do much to mess with Alastor or the hotel in general. the only other time we see him again is when he's laughing and making fun of the hotel's attempt to defend themselves from the Exorcist Angels. And with it being confirmed that the Vees are going to be the next major antagonists for Season 2, me and a few others can't help but think that this is going to go very wrong.

Since Charlie and her friends already faced the leader of the exterminations, any other threat they face from here on out is most likely going to be underwhelming as a result. There's also the possibility that whatever big plan the Vees have in Season 2, it's bound to fail considering how Heaven has put up a barrier and that there's still the Sins and Goetias to worry about.

But we all know that Vivzie will ignore them and force conflict just to make the events she wants to happen happen, regardless if it makes sense or not. Vox isn't compelling or threatening enough to be considered a worthy antagonist, there isn't enough emphasis put on him being a television star nor is he ever written good enough for it to make sense.

He's a man child who wants Alastor-Senpai to suffer for breaking his heart. And since we're gonna be exploring his backstory with Alastor and how their friendship fell apart, I've lost hope that it would be compelling in any meaningful way.

And that's why Mr. Tenna beats him by a landslide.

[cacklingyeena]

If I could just. Ah. Throw my hat into the ring for a minute.

Tenna tickling headcanons! BEWARE DR CHAPTER 3 SPOILERS.

LEE HEADCANONS:

• On the scale of loving to hating being tickled, Tenna actually likes it… with a caveat. If he’s tickled on camera, he gets extremely embarrassed and plays it off. Behind the scenes, he’s much more willing to deal with it.

• He’s such a squirmer. The best way I can describe it is that he makes good on the “ant” in his name and tends to flail like, well, a bug stuck on its back! Limbs in the air waving all around. Watch out!

• You can use his unique TV “anatomy” against him! You can’t see it very well, but under the shirt are wires and a few buttons and dials here and there—if you can find them, they’re potent spots. Tug on a wire here, push a button there, he’s your personal Tickle Me Tenna! (Sold separately.)

• He has a volume knob hidden somewhere. The best way to tease him? Turn it all the way down and then tickle him silly. Tease him that nobody can hear him scream! It drives him nuts. (Just watch for him tapping out! Don’t break the poor thing!)

• Contrary to his bombastic, over-the-top camera presence, with his very rehearsed TV host laughter, his real laugh is more goofy and carefree. It’s a really hearty, silly guffaw.

• He’ll shriek if you get somewhere good, though.

• His most ticklish spots are his belly, his hips, his sides, and… the palms of his hands. He doesn’t quite get that one, either. He gets a little sheepish about it when it’s discovered.

• He likes being tickled for the undivided attention it gets him. So, typical tickle teases might get to him a little, but what really kills him? Stroke his ego a little and validate his want for attention.

Ex: “Aw, you’re so fun to tickle!”

• Did you know his screen turns into color bars when he’s extremely flustered? It’s so much his brain has to We’ll Be Right Back!

• He doesn’t get hoarse necessarily if he laughs too hard. If he laughs too much, his voice becomes kind of staticky and tinny, like the quality of his audio becomes very compressed. It’ll go back to normal once he can catch his breath, though!

But once he does…

LER HEADCANONS:

• IT’S! TIC! KLE! TIME!

• He’s embarrassed about getting tickled in front of a camera. But he will not give you that same dignity.

• His tickling is primarily retaliation for something.

• Suddenly you’re stuck in a physical challenge. Uh oh! You gotta hold your own prizes over your head! If you drop them, they’re gone! Nevermind that he’s scribbling you under the arms and trying to make your life absolute hell while the timer ticks down… a little more slowly than usual… but hey, time is never conveyed accurately on TV!

• Sometimes it’s a stealth mission. You have to hide somewhere in his provided rooms. He’ll come searching for you with the clock ticking down. When he finds you? However much time is left is how long you get tickled for. Only one problem… you do know that every inch of his studio is covered in cameras, don’t you? Because he WILL remind you as he’s looking.

• When he gets in that playful, vengeful mood? The fangs come out. The gloved fingers are wiggling. He 100% plays it up for the camera, too.

• When teasing, it’s actually more indirect stuff. It’s little things he laughs and comments to the audience as he’s tickling the daylights out of his poor victim.

“Wuh oh! Look out, folks! They’re getting hysterical!”

“Watch out there in the front row! We’ve got flying limbs!”

“Let’s get an audience vote! Where does that tickle spot have to be?”

• Though, the direct stuff is… just as bad!

“What? You wanna tap out already?! But you’re having such a good time! LOOK! The Fun-o-meter is just going up, UP, UP!” (accompanied by his gloved fingers crawling up their torso)

• He’s not immune to cuteness, though! If the person he’s tickling has a really adorable laugh, or if they squeal or snort, he gets that funny wobbly smile on his face before a flower sprouts from the tip of his nose and he erupts into an “AWWWW! ❤️” along with the audience. (This is arguably worse than being teased.)

• He likes using his size-changing to his advantage. It makes people very easy to pin. Or maybe he’ll shrink down real tiny and jump into someone’s shirt to scamper around!

• In private, he’s more of a cuddly, loving, but no less playful ler. He likes to gather his lee into his lap and wrap his arms around them with a big “c’mere, you!” before going to town on them.

• Oh, and better hope you’ve never watched any tickling scenes on his screen. And you better extra hope you’ve never rewound any. He noticed. He noticed it all.

[mrmajesty-27]

This silly doodle turn like this-

I was working on it the last week but I didn’t have the time till now

It was supposed to be a silly doodle at first but I wanted to color it even it still in the sketch version

I apologize if it came out bad

And I don’t know what else to say here in the description 🧍But this is the first time I drawn Tenna

I’ve seen he’s getting idk popular too

Hope ya like it

Drawn by me

Mr. Puzzles belongs to Smg4

Mr. (Ant) Tenna belongs to Toby Fox (I hope got his name right-)

[out-of-daybr34k]

Tenna's Intro Seems Edited To Omit / Defame Spamton, Right?

* Double "Coming straight from your house!"; maybe they each said it once

* In fact, the call and response structure the entire time supports there being two presenters. (EXCEPT "You can't get this from an egg!" which could've been added into the script in post out of spite.) Of course the script is talking entirely about Tenna, but maybe he just modified the old script.

* "Mr. (Ant) Tenna's TV Time" Nobody calls him that. That's Well, Ant Tenna is his name, but it's not what he's called by anyone anywhere. It's filler. "Spamton & Tenna's TV Time" Makes More Sense, right? Flows Off The Tongue, Right? Especially since Hey Every is their shared motif. Why would their shared motif be *derived* from "Mr. (Ant) Tenna's TV Time!" and not a shared jingle like "Spamton & Tenna's TV Time!"

* * You could also argue that the mixed up fonts in the TV Time logo support the above, like maybe "Spamton" and "Tenna" would've been in the same font? but eh.

I feel like we'll randomly get that S&T reveal at some point. Anyways