#autistic coded reader

[limitedattennaspam]

Yellow Pages

Reader x Mr 'Ant' Tenna

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t see anything at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so you kept telling yourself.

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

“Easy for you to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm?”

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

Aha, there you are, you naughty little thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m f-fine.”

You don’t sound ‘fine’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, Mr. Ant Tenna?”

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“-are not-” Poke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

Tenna was your friend.

Friends looked out for each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Appearances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[punkeropercyjackson]

Percy Jackson canonically being so hardend by his trauma from growing up a millenial autistic-audhd dyslexic kid in New York with a poor background,a deadbeat birth dad,an abusive stepdad and gender issues he developed a sense of anarchy so strong he's literally psychologically incapable of even thinking about selling out no matter the divine influence will always be more metal than anything Luke Castellan did and Dark Percy aus could ever pull.Almost 20 years and Book!Percy still holds up,the bar,standards and Riptide to incels' throats

[luckyythirteen]

How do you imagine Wesker loving someone romantically? I often think it's very hard, almost impossible to make him tick. And if he does, afraid it's may be already too late, at that point he probably did some irreparable damages to his relationship with said person...

But I headcanon he would be the kind of man who falls hard for the "unobtainable", despite Wesker himself deemed that unpractical. Shit like "some things are beautiful because they can't be obtained"

I imagine it's hard for Wesker to fall in love as you said. Personally, I headcanon him as someone who falls on the aromantic spectrum like I do. In an interview regarding him, his voice actor states that he thinks Wesker's attraction isn't gender specific or "person specific". He is intrigued by people who can match him physically or mentally, which implies he enjoys someone who is hard to get or at least someone on his own level.

I digress, I don't see him as the man to canonically pursue a relationship due to his line of work and the dangers he puts himself or others in. He wouldn't be able to hold one down realistically, not because he's incapable but the guy has a lot on his plate with his world conquest plan yknow?? I think if anything he'd might indulge a cat and mouse game or he'd do a fling but that's about it.

Now if we're talking hypothetically, saying he can work in a relationship and wants to, I think he'd be an... Alright partner. You'd have to be able to keep up with him and keep his interest, though. I think he's the type of man to express his love through actions rather than words. He may not serenade his love to you, but he's let you hug him and he doesn't stiffen or push you away.

He may not constantly say the phrase, "I love you," but he'll take note of your favorite foods, your interests and provide them for you and indulge. He'll ask how your day is, he'll sit with you and even let you be in his personal space while he works. Most of all he's protective of you, he doesn't want you to get hurt. You're very precious to him and the idea of something happening to you tears him apart inside... He may not be a gentle man at all, but with you he will be. It just may not present itself in the stereotypical ways.

[soaps-mohawk]

Was Simon cleaning her room to like look for something or is he just the kind of guy who likes to clean? Or is it something else?

(I have a feeling this is going to get the gif as a response)

He was rizzin' with the 'tism

lmaoo

yeah he was just cleaning cause he took one look into her room and went "not in this house".

[ur-fav-is-autistic]

leopold mountbatten from kate & leopold :3

Leopold Mountbatten from Kate & Leopold is Autistic!

[gravehags]

every once in a while copia will make an offhand comment like “damn remember 1987?” and natalie just turns to him like

“my parents hadn’t even met yet but pop off i guess”

[worstsequence]

fave version of autism mind palace ive encountered he had to picture the mona lisa so the viewer knew he was making connections between da vinci and the fibonacci sequence

[boatemboys]

"the curtains are just blue" really did ruin things cuz idk about u but every time i draw/write there is meaning behind it all down to each individual word or stroke

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

I hope you guys are ready for Reader’s character to really start showing symptoms of autism in my stories… because hot damn I am really exploring the aspects of my symptoms that went undiagnosed in high school in this insert and it’s cathartic as fuck.

[limitedattennaspam]

Here's another quick section of the upcoming fic, a Tenna x Reader prompt, specifically the fluff/comfort section.

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

Yes.

Tenna was your friend.

Friends looked out for each other.

You didn’t like seeing a friend upset, and this was kind of technically your fault.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Percy would definitely have matching Bubbline icons with her girlfriend after she transitions

[reiding-writing]

Cold!reader who defends Spencer when’s someone’s making fun of his autistic traits, and the teams like “what?????”

STAGNANT — SPENCER REID!

why would someone ask spencer a question if they didn’t want to hear the answer?

late s8!spencer x cold!reader 1.2k fluff? cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — the cold!reader roster i have atm has me kicking my feet and twirling my hair, stay tuned

You step into the cramped precinct in a town that barely makes the map, the smell of stale coffee and old paper immediately hitting you.

The air hums with tension—murder cases tend to have that effect on a room. Your team disperses, each member diving into their respective tasks like clockwork.

You stay near Spencer, keeping an eye on the board he’s already scouring, his sharp mind undoubtedly miles ahead of everyone else’s.

It doesn’t take long for the local officers to start asking questions. You’ve seen it before: their curiosity morphing into disbelief as they’re confronted with Spencer Reid in full form.

This particular case involves a peculiar type of soil found on the victim’s shoes, and when one officer, a grizzled man named Officer Moore, offhandedly asks about its significance, Spencer lights up.

“It’s fascinating, actually,” he begins, his voice picking up with enthusiasm. “The soil contains traces of montmorillonite clay, which is common in areas with volcanic ash deposits. This specific type is unique to the western side of the county, and based on the composition—” He gestures to the samples bagged on the table, oblivious to the officer’s quickly fading interest.

Spencer continues, lost in his explanation, his words flowing like water over smooth stones. You watch the officer shift uncomfortably, his expression hardening into impatience. The moment Spencer pauses to breathe, Moore cuts in, looking at you with a smirk.

“Is he like this all the time? Never shuts up, huh?”

You freeze. The room, bustling moments ago, seems quieter now. Your team is too far off to hear, but you’re right here. Close enough to feel the sting of the comment.

Spencer doesn’t notice. Or maybe he pretends not to. Either way, it doesn’t sit right with you. The dismissive tone, the condescension dripping from the officer’s words—it sparks a heat under your skin that you don’t bother to hide.

“Are you stupid?” Your voice is sharp, like a knife scraping metal. Moore’s smug expression falters.

“Excuse me-?”

“You heard me,” you continue, stepping closer, your gaze fixed on him. “If you can’t keep up with what Dr. Reid is saying, that’s your problem. He’s giving you answers—solutions—that you clearly wouldn’t find on your own. So maybe try listening instead of running your mouth.”

Moore blinks, taken aback. His hand hovers near the cup of coffee on the table, forgotten. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did.” you interrupt, crossing your arms. “And for the record, if he’s too much for you to handle, then stay out of his way, you’ll murk his IQ into single digits.”

The room is quiet now, the subtle hum of computers and distant voices the only sound. Spencer finally looks up, his expression unreadable. There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes, but mostly he just seems... confused.

Moore mutters something under his breath and stalks off, clearly not willing to press the issue further. Good. You watch him go, your blood still simmering.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Spencer says softly, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

“Yes, I did,” you reply without hesitation. “He was being a jerk.”

Spencer tilts his head, studying you. “People say things like that all the time.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” you counter, your tone firm. “And if you wont put your foot down about it then I will.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to decipher some hidden code in your words. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles—small and fleeting, but genuine. It feels like a victory, however minor.

—

Later, when the team regroups, the tension in the precinct has eased, though you can still feel a few lingering stares from the local officers.

Hotch gives you all the rundown of the next steps, his voice steady and commanding as always. You nod along, but your focus drifts to Spencer, who’s scribbling something in his notebook, seemingly unbothered by the earlier incident.

As the team breaks off to get to work, Emily sidles up beside you, her dark eyes alight with curiosity. “So,” she begins, drawing out the word. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” you reply, feigning ignorance.

“That little showdown with Officer Grumpy Pants earlier,” she says, smirking. “Word has it you tore him a new one,”

You shrug. “He was being disrespectful.”

Emily raises an eyebrow. “To Reid?”

“To all of us, honestly,” you say. “But yeah, mostly Reid. He didn’t deserve that.”

Emily studies you for a moment, her smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Awe how sweet,”

“Don’t start,” you warn, but there’s no real bite to your words. Emily laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, no judgment,” she says. “It’s just... very human of you.”

“I’m not a robot.”

She gestures vaguely toward you. “Oh hush you know what I mean,”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother arguing. Instead, you glance across the room at Spencer, who’s now deep in conversation with JJ and Rossi. The earlier exchange seems to have rolled off him, as if it never happened.

But you know better. You’ve seen the way comments like that stick, the way they fester in that moment f hesitation before he speaks. You’re not sure why it matters so much to you—why he matters so much—but you don’t dwell on it.

—

The case drags on into the evening, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. By the time the unsub is in custody and the team is preparing to head back to the jet, exhaustion hangs heavy in the air.

As you gather your things, Morgan claps a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Ice Queen,” he says, his tone teasing. “You did good.”

“Thank you? I was doing my job.” you reply, shooting him a bemused look.

He chuckles. “Not with the case, sweetness. Word is you went full gladiator on one of the locals earlier.”

“Word travels way too fast in this team,” you mutter.

Morgan grins. “What can I say? We’re a nosy bunch. But it’s nice to know you haven’t lost your bite now you’re saddled up to boy wonder.”

He gestures with his head towards where Spencer was sleeping on the jet’s couch, wrapped in a cheap blanket like baby.

You fight back the urge to smile.

“I never changed,” you say dryly.

Morgan laughs, but there’s a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Sure you did,”

“No I didn’t,”

He nudges your shoulder, a whisper of “You’ll admit it one day,” before he walks off.

[wrotebymii]

EVERYTHING HAS A PLACE | Date Everything x Autistic!gn!reader

Summary: How life is with the objects and their autistic homeowner.

Warnings: Fluffy, minimal angst, reader doesn’t know their household necessities are sentient at first, I’m autistic but low-functioning so a lot of what I wrote is how I go about my day/how I act. Not edited. Reader is also slightly demi-romantic coded.

Lost the plot a few paragraphs in I’m sorry I’m sleep deprived.

MASTERLIST | READ ME

Timothy, Penelope, and You are like three peas in a pod. Using each keeps you relatively relaxed for the upcoming day or eventual break in your neatly put together schedule—which gets increasingly difficult to think about when said break comes.

Sorry, Sam, but your hang session is place obscurely in our data monthly pin board since it’s pushing too close to workout and the everything shower. —Signed Penelope

They all try to accommodate your needs; Kopi making the coffee the exact same every time, Freddy keeping the fridge nice and cool so your comfort foods don’t spoil just yet, Teddy being found under your bed when you’re having a difficult time regulating, even Lux and Barry collaborating reluctantly together to find the perfect hand lotion that doesn’t give you sensory headaches.

Everyone thinks you’re charming, not in an infantilizing way. Every single person adores you but with respect and understanding.

Most of them love that you have a routine you stick by, it’s easy to remember and gives them chill periods in between. Its a nice break because they too can get tired, so when there’s a detour in the schedule that wasn’t place advanced. They worry.

Koa and Mateo would immediately be there with you, letting you curl in the comfort of your bedding and focus on yourself. While Telly puts on a rerun of your favorite show.

But this time it’s different. An immediate change in your entire routine when you got the Dateviators. Forcing yourself to ignore the urge to clean the broken glass of your door window because a drone had so rudely forced the box in. You picked them up, they were cute a little tacky but cute nevertheless. Internally, you were still freaked out that an unknown person knew your address and sent you a pair of sungla— holy shit.

You put them on and you’re not sure how it happened but there was a very beautiful smiling pinked haired stranger standing a few feet away from you. She was practically buzzing in excitement as she explained what was happening. Causing you to…

Quickly take the glasses off and pace.

You couldn’t believe it, almost didn’t want to believe it. Within the comforts of your own home every object, appliance, knicknacks, and the literal embodiment of concepts are all sentient. It made you feel all types of ways wrong that you quickly took laps around the house before collapsing on the floor of your living room.

…this could be a good thing? You mean…it could help with your social skill and facial recognition. Hell, maybe you’ll get a friend out of this?

Slowly you put them back on, your world being brightly lit up by rose tinted specs. It hurts your eyes. Though, Skylar shows up again, looking down at you with a strained smile and wave. Easying you up without touching you to your feet and continuing what she was saying. Before another bomb shell hit you.

Dateviators…dateables

The whole point of these glasses was to date multiple of your household items which freaked you out more. However, you were truly thankful that you met Dorian first. His announcement that friendship was also an option made it less daunting on you.

Thus began the 102 way to get everything to be friends with you!

Sure, the first few days was stressful and near exhausting but long talks with Timothy and Pen helped greatly. They helped with creating an entirely new schedule color coded as well that allowed time for your humanly needs and getting to know everyone.

Jerry and You got along great, earning his friendship fast when you told him to up-cycle.

Lux was easy to hate, but with your inability to know when you’re being insulted you became their unlikely friend they hurt your eyes.

Teddy was amazing, you were little embarrassed that he knows deeply about your breakdowns but the silly advice and stories made it go away.

Barry is probably your best friend, you help him with his memory by saying he can use things he’s interested in to aid him in keeping track of things.

Chance is your second bestie, nearly tackling him in feral hyper fixation so you could yap his ear off about the game you both like. He’s the most likely to fall for you. Besides Wallace.

However, the best place is Break Box Club, but only when it’s after hours. You can only sit through terrible act before you want to put cotton in your ears. The club is soothing at closing, lights dimmer Volt and Eddie do that just for you and you get to drink a lot of mocktails Eddie teases you.

You do your share, of course. Not wanting to free load off the two. You have knowledge on the breaker box because you were frantically cleaning one day and found the manual which you spent the next hour reading through and forgot the cleaning which you regretted later.

Currently, you’re seated at the bar working on a project you and Jerry are doing while chatting to Eddie about a new dateable, questioning the person initial reaction to you. Volt was to your right.

“They were flirting…” He said, cleaning a glass with a shake of his head. The corner of his lips turning up. You give him a once over and hum in thought.

“Nah” You say flatly, not believing it.

“The hell you mean nah?” He raised an amused brow. You shrug and sit up straight, gathering your words.

“They seemed…rude? And pushy” You concluded.

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t…” Eddie pauses and places the glass down, rubbing between his eyes like he has a headache.

“Sometimes…insults can be meant in different ways, live wire.” Volt says, chuckling. They aren’t teasing you for your like of awareness but amused by the conversation overall.

“But, that’s not how it’s like in Betty’s books” You say, maintaining strict eye contact with Eddies hands as the wipe down the counter. Enjoying the rhythmic nature of it.

“How was it shown in these books?” Volt asks with more interest.

“Flashy, and oddly poetic. Like you’d sing a ballad if you saw your lover in front of you” You say remembering the way Betty gasp and sigh wishfully when she read it out loud. You thought it was pretty, and by definition romantic, but not something you think you’d like.

“Ah of course, lovey-dovey shit…” Eddie mumbles, he leans on the bar his hands on the counter supporting his weight. Volt hums.

“Betty is the overtly romantic type.” Volt looks at you, multitasking on the project and the conversation.

“-what about you?”

“Huh?”

“What is your romance like, your love language?”

“You don’t have to answer, tap your fingers twice if you want me to stop him” Eddie teases, his voice drowning out with Volts as they banter back and forth.

What is your romance like? Love language? You aren’t sure, but you know you like foundation a connection to someone. Similarities but not too many.

“I think I like just being near someone…we don’t have uh-don’t have to speak or do anything but just be there in each other presence, I enjoy that. Looking up and seeing that they’re there and I get to be there with them…” The room is silence, it’s not awkward but settle.

Then it’s broken.

“I enjoy the firey and beautiful passi-“

“You ruined it” Eddie huffs.

“Oh-ho I did not, I’m merely adding onto-“ Volt defends himself, electricity tingling over his arms—the zapping noise of it pleases you.

You giggle as they continue, adding the last bit to the Jerry project. Watching as Eddie and Volt blabber on as Eddie begins to walk away from the conversation to go on and do workaholic things.

You might not fully understand where you are in romantic relationships but you’ll take anything if it meant being in the presence of any object within this house. If they’re flirty, hateful, passive, aloof.

You don’t mind, being around them is enough for you.

[0o-junebug-o0]

First Meeting

summary: You're having difficulty with some code so you stop by Penelope's house for help, unaware that she has a guest. Spencer takes one look at you and is immediately head over heels.

genre: fluff

cw: meet cute (is it a meet cute?) completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), season 1 spencer, university/college student reader, talk about research and coding, pov switch from reader to spencer

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is an actual error I had this summer when writing my spectra analysis code

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, scowling at the code you’re trying to write. You’re still relatively new to coding, the first time you ever took a class on it was just under two years ago, so this code has taken you significantly more time to write than it would have taken Penelope. But you’ve written it. You read through the code again and rerun it. Everything runs fine, the code should work, but it doesn’t. 

You rub your eyes and groan with frustration. You should be able to get a wavelength solution out of this. The professor you’re doing research with told you what you need to do to get the wavelength solution and then how to use it to find the redshift of the lensed galaxy and the foreground lensing galaxy, but nothing is lining up!

You’ve opened the data, plotted the variation in flux for each line in the image, fit a Gaussian to it to get the brightest point, and converted the pixel value of that point to vacuum wavelength, but none of the wavelengths you’re finding match up with what lines should be present in the spectra for this lamp type!

You briefly consider emailing your professor but decide against it. Even though he told you that asking him things wouldn’t bother him and that it’s his job, you don’t want to take up more of his time than you already have. 

You look around your apartment for anything that might help. Your eyes land on your keychain and the spare key Penelope gave you because she enjoys it when you stop by. You quickly shut your laptop, tucking it under your arm, grab your keys, slip on a pair of shoes, and make your way down the hall to Penelope’s apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind you. 

_____

Spencer sits awkwardly on one of Garcia’s kitchen stools, tapping his fingers on the Tardis mug she had filled with tea and given him. He’s not exactly sure why Garcia invited him over. She said she wanted to bond, but they’ve known each other for almost two years now, and Spencer considers her a good friend, so he doesn’t really know what bonding entails. So far, Garcia has just been bustling around her kitchen preparing snacks and drinks for their Doctor Who marathon.

The lock clicks and Spencer’s head whips toward the door just in time for it to burst open. Spencer freezes and stares at you in awe and confusion. 

“Penny!” you cry, your voice a mixture of a shout and a whine. 

Garcia calls your name with a surprised look. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What?” you ask. Then you wave your hand flippantly. “Yeah I’m fine, I just need help with some code.” Your eyes land on Spencer and he can feel his heart rate increase. He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say. “I can, um, I can come back later.”

Spencer watches as your posture stiffens slightly and you start to fiddle with your keychain. 

Spencer opens his mouth to reassure you but Garcia beats him to it. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet anyway.” You shoot Spencer a small, awkward smile and wave from across the room when Garcia shares your name. When she introduces him, your eyes widen and you look toward Garcia with an expression Spencer can’t decipher and mouth something to her that makes her laugh loudly. 

Spencer can feel himself flushing at your reaction and takes a sip of his tea to hide his face.

“Anyway!” Garcia says cheerfully. “Do you mind if I help them real quick?”

“Go ahead,” Spencer responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s difficult with you there, though, all his thoughts suddenly seem much harder to grasp. Like your presence is forcing them aside. 

Your eyes seem to linger on him for a moment before you head over to the counter and set your laptop down. “Right,” you mutter, opening it and entering the password. Spencer listens intently as you describe to Garcia what your code should be doing and he can’t help but smile at the clear passion in your voice. It sends butterflies to his stomach. 

“What do you study?” Spencer blurts out. 

You close your mouth and cock your head at him for a moment. “I’m, uh, I’m studying astrophysics. Specifically strong gravitational lensing. I’ve already made preliminary models of the system and I’m just working on analyzing the spectra now.”

Spencer nods and leans over to look at your code. 

“Do you want to help Penny find the issue?” you ask. You sound a bit nervous and Spencer looks up and smiles what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“I would if I could. I really don’t know how to code, though.”

“Seriously?” you ask. Spencer cocks his head at the tone of surprise in your voice. “Sorry, it’s just that Penny has told me a lot about you and about how you’re a genius and have three PhDs, which is insanely impressive by the way, so I guess I’m just surprised you don’t know something.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “Coding and other technological things are some of it. I don’t know too much about astrophysics either.” That’s not exactly true but it isn’t a lie either. He’s read papers on several astrophysical topics but he’s never come across one on strong lensing before. But the truth of the statement is irrelevant, the only reason he said it was to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

You smile and Spencer’s stomach feels like it does a backflip. “I won’t be much help teaching you how to code, Penny would be better for that, but I can tell you about some astro stuff at some point.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Garcia teases and Spencer’s face burns. “Let’s focus.” You nod, clearly also a bit embarrassed, and turn back to your laptop.

“How about I go line by line and tell you what it should do and you let me know if something doesn’t do what I think it does,” you say. Garcia nods and both she and Spencer follow along as you point to and describe each line of code. You get to a printed image of the data file you’re analyzing before Garcia stops you.

“Can you open the file on your computer?” she asks.

You nod and open the file in a new application and move it so it’s side by side with the image in your code. “Wait,” you mutter, glancing back and forth between the two images. “Is that seriously the issue?” Spencer leans forward to get a closer look, the x-axes of the images are flipped. 

You throw your head back with a groan and change the rotation of the file in your code. “I swear, if this works,” you growl. The clear exasperation in your tone makes Spencer chuckle slightly. 

You rerun the code and compare several of the outputs to a list of wavelengths before groaning again and letting your head fall onto the counter. “I hate Python,” you grumble. “Why does it have to switch the axes!” 

Garcia laughs and pats you on the back. You raise your head off the counter and tap your forehead against her shoulder in a gesture Spencer assumes expresses gratitude. “Thanks, Penny,” you sigh. “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh, and Spencer,” you say, turning to look at him. “We should get lunch sometime. I can tell you about astrophysics and you can tell me about all the crazy things you know.”

“I-I would love that,” Spencer stutters, unable to speak clearly with you looking into his eyes. He's hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that someone as beautiful as you would want to spend more time with him. Spencer's not sure whether you’re asking him on a date or just to go out as friends, but he doesn’t care either way as long as he gets to spend more time with you.

“Great!” you say happily. You stand and cross the room to quickly grab one of Garcia’s pens before returning. You hold the fluffy pink pen with a smile on your face and hold out your hand for his. “May I?” you ask. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and he nods, setting his hand in yours despite his usual aversion to touch. The contact makes his heart feel like it’s about to burst from his chest. You scrawl your number across the back of his hand before handing Spencer the pen and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He writes his number on your hand and watches in a sort of daze as you gather your computer and keys and wave goodbye before leaving.

Spencer jumps slightly as Garcia ruffles his hair. He looks over at her to see a knowing smile on her face. Spencer blushes and hides his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“No way,” she laughs. “Derek’s going to have a field day with this. Boy genius has a crush!”

_____

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[elexuscal]

I watchrd the murder bot show. I heard some book fans think it’s nonbinary and some argue it likes it pronouns. Why? Isn’t it dehumanizing? And is the guy who forced it to Murderbot to make eye contact, via orders ableist? I can see why book readers think it is autistic coded. I feel weird calling a nonbinary-coded, autistic-coded lifeform it. Does it really prefer those pronouns? I read on tumblr thay apparently it does. I personally don’t prefer it/it’s pronouns, but not all enbies are the same.

Hiya!

I suppose it's not surprising that an ask like this would show up, if not in my inbox, than somebody's! Murderbot's pronouns are something I've consistently seen lots of questions about over the years, and with an influx of new folks being introduced due to the show, there's going to be more than ever.

First of all: thanks for asking these questions. I think when first being introduced to a new idea, such as a set of pronouns you're unfamiliar with, asking open and honest questions shows great intellectual curiosity and interest in understanding others.

There's a few different questions in this ask, so I'm going to try and break this down into sections, and to tackle them one by one. (And for the record, most of my answers here will be in reference to the books, not the TV show, because a) I haven't seen the show [yet] and b) there's only 2 episodes of it out right now anyway. I have no idea how closely the two texts are going to align, but I certainly hope it doesn't take away the book series' queer themes and representation.)

1. What's Murderbot's gender, and what pronouns does it use?

Murderbot is agender/non-gendered, and uses it/its pronouns.

For the record, I don't think this is just a reading or an interpretation. Rather, this is canonical, and on the same level as saying, "Bruce Wayne is a man who uses he/him pronouns."

Admittedly, there's never a place where the character says "My name is Murderbot, I'm non-binary, and I use it/its pronouns." In my opinion, one of the the strengths of the books is that it has much more subtle worldbuilding than that, both in general and in regards to casual queerness. However, throughout its first-person narration, Murderbot consistently uses "it" to refer to itself, and shows a general alienation and distaste for gender stuff in general. Its friends/allies, even after long acquaintance, continue using it/its.

Textual examples include:

Book 1: Yes, talk to Murderbot about its feelings. The idea was so painful I dropped to 97 percent efficiency. Book 2: To initiate the meeting, I’d had to make an entry on the social feed, too. The system was extremely vulnerable to hacking, so I had backdated my entry to look like I had come in on an earlier passenger transport, listed my job as “security consultant,” and my gender as indeterminate. Book 5: "No, it says it's fine," I heard her relaying to others on the comm. "Well, yes, it's furious." Book 6: I posted a feed ID with the name SecUnit, gender = not applicable, and no other information. Book 7: I was as indifferent to human gender as it was possible to be without being unconscious.

And while I think it's unnecessary, given the textual evidence, we can bring in Word of God too, courtesy of the book's author Martha Wells:

So, okay, Murderbot uses it/its pronouns! Which leads into the next question...

Why does Murderbot use 'It/Its' pronouns? Isn't that dehumanizing?

Yes, and that's just the way Murderbot likes it!

I think the reason this is often a stumbling block for folks is that a main focus of the early series-- especially book 1, or as the case may be, first episodes of the new adaptation-- is establishing that Murderbot Is A Person. From there, it's an easy leap to go: Therefore, Murderbot Is Human. After all, it has a human face.

But the second part of the central theme is: Murderbot is a person, but not a human person.

It is half-bot, half-human, all SecUnit. It has things in common with both of those halves, and emergent properties unique to itself. More than that, Murderbot is deeply alienated from the human experience. It spent the majority of its life being treated like an object, and appliance, and a weapon.

Murderbot chooses to embrace those aspects of its identity by continuing to use it/its pronouns. And yeah, it's clear that this often makes other folks feel uncomfortable. But that's a big part of it too. Murderbot's arc is about learning how to exist, as itself, unapologetically. It doesn't need to sand off those uncomfortable parts of its existence that make the humans around it uncomfortable. They just have to deal.

Okay, but that's Murderbot, a fictional character. What about actual real people?

That's a great point! And indeed, I don't care so much about Murderbot's pronouns for its own sake. It's a fictional character, it can't and doesn't care what real world people call it. But I think respecting its pronouns is an extension of respecting real living folks who DO use it/its pronouns, so let's talk about it!

(And for the record, I am not nonbinary. I'm also not not nonbinary? But I'm a sapphic butch with an often masc gender presentation, so it's like, an Overlap. My point being I'll do my best to speak to this perspective, but really, you're best seeking out the perspectives of actual it/its users and nonbinary folks.)

Various non-binary, agender, and other gender queer folks use it/its pronouns. The reasons vary hugely. Explanations I've seen are:

Generally feeling alienated from the human experience

Feeling a greater connection to non-human identities, like animals or robots

Connection to the many beautiful things exist in the world which (in English) have it/its pronouns applied to them-- think the ocean, or food, or celestial bodies.

A gender neutral pronoun that doesn't introduce the plural ambiguity of 'they/them' and isn't a neopronoun set folks need to learn.

Reclamation of insults they've received

and idk, they just sort of like it? Sometimes things aren't that deep.

And probably a whole bunch more reasons!

And really, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what I think of it. While we can get deep into the theory of pronouns, at the end of the day, using the pronouns people prefer is just common courtesy. You can personally find it weird and uncomfortable, and you can work through it in your own time... But if someone asks, just use the pronouns they want!

Was the guy who forced it to Murderbot to make eye contact via orders ableist?

Okay, again, I haven't seen the show yet, so I don't have full context. But was the guy Gurathin? I bet it was Gurathin. While he didn't do that specifically in the book, he did pull some similar stunts.

In short, yeah, probably. It's a dick move regardless.

In long, I don't think he was being deliberately ableist. The guy is viewing the situation through a very different framework, namely, 'this SecUnit is a threat and a danger, and I am trying to control the situation'. Very likely, if he met a human colleague or acquaintance who asked not to make eye-contact, or just very clearly didn't like it, he probably would be chill and accommodating.

But the thing is, plenty of folks are ableist in day-to-day life without meaning to be ableist! You'll see folks be like "this person is so annoying because they do 'X thing', and it's not like they have an autism diagnosis or anything", as if the formal diagnosis is a magic wand to make certain behaviours okay. In general, things would be better if we just got better at accommodating benign behaviours that exist outside the norm without explanation.

[And frankly, my bigger concern here is less "ableism", and more "using his social power to force somebody who is a slave to follow his orders", but that's neither here nor there.]

Is it ableist to call a non-binary coded, autistic coded lifeform it/its?

Well, I mean, context matters?

A lot of shitty people will use it/its in a cruel way to various neurodivergent and queer people. They are deliberately intending to demean and dehumanize. That's shitty. Whether that's ableist or queerphobic would depend on the context, but it would be deliberately shitty.

And indeed, if you were to take another similar character... say Data from Star Trek, or Peridot from Steven Universe, and call either of them 'it', then again, depending on the context, I might call that shitty too! Their canonical pronouns are he/him and she/her respectively, and refusing to use those pronouns because "they're not really people" or "it's not a man/woman" would be a deliberately provoking move.

But if someone-- be it a fictional character, and even more so, a real person-- asks to be called "it"? That's their choice. The context has changed. It's not ableist, it's not queerphobic. That's just respecting them.

[rat6ix]

MINGLE.

Thangyu x loser!male!Reader

Summary: getting rid of an obstacle during mingle leads to nam-gyu and thanos realizing they like you a lot more than they thought.

Warnings: death (obvs), blood, reader kills a guy, loser!reader, threesome, smut (yaaaay), readers a little autistic coded which is my fault lol. drug mentions, theres like a weird holding position thing going on idk what its called, readers apart of the thanos gang (obviously).

This is NOT proofread its 3am 💔

— 🐀

You’d become a member of The Thanos gang after the first vote, you’d pressed X and that caught the attention of Thanos and Nam-gyu. You seemed easy to influence, you kept to yourself and you didn’t talk to people unless you absolutely had to. It didn’t take long for them to figure out why, you acted like you’ve never talked to anyone before. You never looked them in the eye, the floor or a nearby wall looking so much more interesting whenever they talked to you. You stumbled over your words, having to calm down and restart your sentences completely.

You spent most of your time attached to Nam-gyu and Thanos, an O patch now stuck to your front with Thanos’ arm around your shoulder and Nam-gyu’s hand gripping your arm as you walked to a new game. It went pretty well at first, the numbers high enough for at least the three of you to stick together. The last round you stuck with min-su, but by the time you got to a door someone was already in there. You acted on impulse, min-su staring wide eyed at you as you shoved—borderline threw—the guy out of the room you were in and slammed the door behind you.

You were breathing heavily as you leaned against the door, feeling the blood from the now bullet through his head managed to hit you in the neck from the little window in the door. Your face scrunched up with disgust as you felt it drip down your neck into your jacket, but you wouldn’t be able go do anything about it until the game was over so you attempted to ignore it. By the time the round was over you began making it back to Thanos and Nam-gyu, Min-su following close behind.

“What happened to your neck?” Nam-gyu had asked you, his hands finding their way back to you, squeezing you slightly.

You tried to shrug them off by telling them it wasn’t yours so they didnt have to worry about it. Thanos’ eyebrows raised as an amused smile found its way on to Nam-gyu’s face. You shrunk under their gaze, walking a bit ahead of them on the way back to the room where everyone slept. You didn’t catch the look they shared with each other before they turned around and asked Min-su about it. Min-su had told them everything and you knew it by the time you’d gotten back to the room, their eyes never leaving you and those stupid smug smirks on their faces made you wanna disappear.

As soon as you got the chance you left to go to the bathroom, the blood from earlier was drying and it didn’t feel any better than when it was wet. You hung your jacket on a nearby stall so you didnt get it wet but you made sure your shirt was nearby on a sink just in case somebody came in. You almost hit your head on the faucet of the sink when you heard the door open, quickly reaching over to grab your shirt. You felt sort of relaxed when you saw Nam-gyu and Thanos but still a bit embarrassed considering you were still shirtless and water was dripping from your neck to your shoulders and back.

“What do you guys want?” You mumbled, fiddling with your shirt in your hands.

They both made their way over to you as Thanos spoke, “c’mon bro dont be like that.” The fabric of their jackets pressed against your bare skin as you tried not to make eye contact with them, the tiles on the floor suddenly a thousand times more interesting. You shifted uncomfortably at the feeling of the material on your skin but decided to suck it up so you could leave faster.

“We know what you did.” Nam-gyu spoke up this time, his voice low in your ear but you can hear the smile on his face.

You let out a noise of acknowledgment, not sure how to respond to something like that. Before you knew what was happening you were being drug to the farthest stall from the door, barely being able to keep up with their footsteps. Your feet getting stuck on the uneven tiles every now and again. You were pushed into the stall first landing roughly against the toilet, Thanos and Nam-gyu followed quickly after. After the door was closed they turned to you who was already looking up at them, your shirt now discarded somewhere else in the bathroom; you figured you dropped it on the way there.

Your eyes widened as Nam-gyu started unzipping and pulling off his jacket, tattoos now visible on his arms. He threw it on the side of the stall, Thanos doing the same. You tried to speak but gave up as you couldn’t get a full sentence out, your brain running a mile a minute. Soon enough Thanos stood closer in front of you, his hands finding your face as he started talking to you.

“Me and Nam-su really like you man, you’re real good to us.”

You went to go correct him on Nam-gyus name, catching the eyeroll he gave thanos but you were cut off by thanos pulling you up from the toilet and pushing you towards Nam-gyu who successfully caught you so you didnt trip. When you made eye contact with Nam-gyu you noticed how dilated his pupils were, you knew the both of them were on drugs but you were sorta wishing you’d been on drugs, maybe it would help you be a little bolder in this situation.

Sure you could kill a guy during a game but you couldn’t handle about to fuck two of your friends in the bathroom? You gasped as you felt Nam-gyus hands against your skin, both of them under the waistband of your pants and boxers before going to pull them both down in one try. Your cock twitched as it came in contact with the cold air of the bathroom, a stark contrast of how warm you felt at the moment. You saw Thanos smirk in front of you and you figured Nam-gyu had a similar expression. You reached behind you to find the waist band of Nam-gyus pants, not wanting to be the only one naked. You heard a chuckle from behind you and a tease about suddenly growing balls.

Suddenly Thanos made his way close to the both of you, you being pressed between the both of them as they kissed. You weren’t squished for too long before Thanos’ lips found yours and Nam-gyus made their way to your neck. You whimpered quietly as Thanos had made contact with your cock from being so close to you, he only pushed his hips against yours harder when he realized which drew a moan out of you. You could feel Nam-gyus cock pressing against you from behind, a low groan vibrated against your back as you grinded against him.

—

It didn’t take long for you three to figure out a position, Thanos and Nam-gyu both holding you above their waists,supporting your weight as they shoved their cocks in you. Your hands found their way into Nam-gyus hair, him being the one in front of you this time. Thanos laughed from behind you as you tried to hold in your moans only to fail miserably as tears fell down your face. Your pants were discarded on the floor of the bathroom stall somewhere so they didnt get in the way.

You felt like your guts were being rearranged by the both of them, nam-gyus hand eventually finding itself wrapped around your cock causing you to let out a pathetic noise and drop your head against Thanos’ shoulder. Thanos didnt waste any time pressing his lips against yours, the angle making it a little weird but it muffled your moans nonetheless. Nam-gyu mumbled something about you pushing him and Thanos’ cocks together like a fleshlight and you whined in retaliation.

Every once in a while Nam-gyu would squeeze his hand around the base of your cock to make you squirm, he succeeded at that and pulling the most pathetic noises from you which pulled a teasing laugh out of Thanos. You could feel Thanos’ ringed fingers digging into your skin as he held you still, you felt like a sex toy with the way they used you to get off. Nam-guys rings were slipped off at some point, you assumed before his hand was wrapped around your cock because he knew they would feel weird against it.

You moved your hands to hold onto your own thighs so you didnt dig your nails into Nam-gyus scalp, you didn’t want to hurt him on accident. Your grip only tightened as you got closer to cumming, trying to warn them but it only caused Thanos to shove himself deeper inside of you. You let out a half sqeal have moan as you finished, some of it landing on Nam-gyu—who didn’t look impressed— and some of it landing on your thighs. When you came down from your high they let you down, you sat down on the back of your legs before wrapping your hands around their cocks.

It didn’t take long for them to cum, already close from fucking you. most of it landed on your face and chest, groans falling out if both of their mouths as you continued stroking them; only stopping when they were finished cumming. You were a mess and you knew it, only being snapped out of your thought when Nam-gyu started speaking.

“Man i wish i had my phone right now.”

Thanos said something in agreement, you only looked around what you could see of the stall for your pants. When all three of you were for the most part dressed, your shirt and jacket still missing from before all this happened. You quickly found both of them and made your way to the sink to wash off your face and they stayed to talk to you while you finished. You had no idea how they could had such a normal conversation after fucking your brains out not even 20 minutes ago but you were glad it wasn’t awkward now.

—

Belongs to rat6ix

For: @slutforsnow