give-soup-please

[give-soup-please]

Cosmo finds every way he can to strike back against Tenna's overabundant love.

[give-soup-please]

* BE CHEERFUL, ENJOY YOUR LIFE! 🍝

(Papyrus as the ancient Turkish joyful skeleton mosaic)

[give-soup-please]

(Soup's face cracks. He starts tearing up. He can't stop himself. He takes a drag of the cigarette, and blinks away what he can, but it's not enough. The tears spill hot and fast.

He can't speak for several moments. When he does, his voice is a strangled thing, terrified.

"I... I've been watching you for far longer than you know."

Another long drag of a cigarette.

He points to the abandoned building. "That's been my home for the past five years. For five- fucking awful- years, I've been using rags as blankets, huddling against broken walls. I've been going hungry. No heating. No air conditioning. Every summer, I risk heat stroke. Every winter, frostbite."

He's shaking violently now, his teeth chattering. He looks through Tenna, as if he's very far away.

"I've been sneaking into your building for four and a half years. Because your walls have insulation. And..."

Soup smiles at Tenna. It's broken. "Your kitchens are well stocked."

The truth unspools itself, faster and faster.

"I've been stealing from you. At first, I thought you were like the other rich assholes I've seen tonight. And it's not like you don't have resources to spare. A few cans of soup go missing, no one cares. So I took my fill. I was careful, but eating more than enough every night."

He sniffles, and takes a larger drag of his cigarette, trying desperately to stable himself with the nicotine.

"And then I saw how you interacted with your fans." His voice cracks, his head drooping in shame. "And I realized that you were a kind, good, decent man. Behind the public persona, off camera, your soul shines. Like starlight. Like the grace of a heaven that's out of reach for me now."

He's holding back a sob now.

"I started keeping track of how much I took, so that when I got some work, I'd be able to pay you back. I've got a stack of papers that I've been using to record the market price for each item, and I added them up, and-"

"I owe you over six thousand dollars."

His voice begins raising, he knows they might get caught if he can't get himself back under control, but he can't help it anymore.

"I can't get the money together. No one wants to hire a homeless person. So I thought, I'll just cut back on how much I'm eating! And now I'm hungry all the time! And I've watched you choose to offer support to me and your fans, again, and again, and again-"

He takes several deep breaths, attempting to regain some semblance of control.

"I knew I loved you a long time ago. I thought the notes would help you see yourself the way I see you. As someone deserving. Someone worthy of all good things. Because you are. I've watched you struggle with self worth for so long, and for the life of me, I can't see why."

Soup grabs Tenna by the lapels. "Look at me."

When Tenna does, Soup is shaking him a little, as if half-crazed. Perhaps the pressure has finally gotten too much.

"You are loved. So much, by so many people, especially by me, but I stole your heart, and I didn't mean to take it, and I didn't mean for you to catch me, and I caught you, but-"

Soup breaks down in front of Tenna. Years of grief and stress pour out of him, and he starts to hyperventilate.

He's having a panic attack.

-🍲

(A pained expression paints Mr. Tenna’s face, but it has nothing to do with thievery or the money owed. The truth is worse. How could someone this good, this loving, have been suffering alone for so long? The crushing weight of Soup’s confession makes Tenna’s chest cave in. His monitor is still fixed on him, unwavering. The CRT’s previous outburst makes him wince. He was only thinking of the ramifications of their relationship from a workplace perspective. Such an egotistical lens driven by audience approval, popularity and engagement. He’s unsure of what to say, a million possibilities fire from his components. Soup doesn’t need advice, he needs reassurance. The words he chooses must be crucial. Tenderly, he places his gloved hands over Soup’s, not to lock him in place, but as a physical gesture of presence. Though their faces remain fixed on each other, Mr Ant Tenna's screen flickers slightly, processing the situation. His voice is calm and low, almost on par with the rumbling crackle of static he emits.)

I’m looking sweetheart. You don’t have to suffer alone any more. I’m right here.

(Tenna smooths his thumbs over the top of his hands. Slowly he counts several breaths for them to do together, helping them both. His machinery shudders as he exhales, but his demeanour remains calm and composed.)

Soup, I'm not angry. I understand. You did what you had to do to survive, and I can't fault you for that. The debt is nothing. I don't want you to worry about it. That doesn’t matter right now, what matters to me is you. We’ve had shows tank with much higher budgets, and certain mail-men have conned me out of a lot more.

I’m really glad you’ve told me, I care about you too. You've seen the kindness in me when I've struggled to see it myself. You're a good person.

(Eventually he formulates a decision to enable Soup to get back on his feet, not as a way to “pay his debt”. A crucial distinction. He’s unsure whether to share such a proposition for now, but it whirrs in the back of his monitor. Currently, Tenna's focal point is the man in front of him, and only him.)

Tonight, you’re not going back to that building. Stay in the suite with me. We'll get some rest and figure out a plan tomorrow. What do you say?

[give-soup-please]

Cosmo comes to realize the lengths Tenna is willing to go to keep him.

[give-soup-please]

me when soup

[give-soup-please]

DRUMROLL PLEASE

After 4+ months of searching-

I got a job!

Here's my final stats page, if anyone's curious 😅

Yes, I kept track of everything since I started looking in late March. Yes, these numbers are accurate.

Is this a lot? Is this a little? I've genuinely lost all sense of perspective. It's my first job post-college.

What a relief.

[give-soup-please]

he's new, please be nice to him

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Tenna panics when Cosmo wants to leave.

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Tenna's instability grows.

[give-soup-please]

Save me tenna deltarune, save me

[give-soup-please]

I guess Twitter really needed a middle-aged trans man on the timeline today. Happy to oblige.

[give-soup-please]

(Soup slowly stirs as the sun rises. The call to consciousness seems almost unfortunate. He's almost relieved that Tenna isn't there, it would have been a long and surely awkward goodbye.

And then he spots the basket. Four cans of soup, enough food to keep him full for a while if he rationed it out carefully enough. The chocolates and champagne- and the flowers-

He covers his mouth softly as he scans through the note, trying to keep his volume low even though there's no one to hear him.

Soup felt like an idiot. Of course a TV host would know how to keep someone hooked. Keep the suspense up, keep things interesting. Keep 'em watching through the commercial break. Keep them wanting more, wanting-

He was in deep. His heart was doing summersaults, not sure whether to be aflight with joy or sinking into his stomach.

Oh, this was such a bad idea. His mouth burned with an unspoken secret. There was something about himself that he hadn't told Tenna, the reason he kept his distance.

That had been Soup's plan, to going back to sticking to the shadows, turning what had been a wonderful night into a one-off, a fond memory that would keep them both warm for years to come.

But Tenna didn't want passive warmth. He wanted the source of heat as close to him as possible.

Soup could understand that. It was why he loved the food soup so much. It kept him very warm on the colder nights here. When the weather was bad, when his roof leaked, when the wind would burrow through the holes in his-

He didn't want to think about it. He grabs the VIP pass, notices the lanyard attached, and hesitates for a moment before slipping it over his neck. It's a bit of a gaudy fashion statement, an obvious flaunting of privilege. But it felt like a shield. An extra layer of protection. He'd earned the right to not be immediately kicked out. That was a blessing.

At that moment, his mind conjured up an image of him and Tenna waltzing. The lighting soft and low, the hushed whispers of people circling around them.

He glances at the end of the note. The phrases 'affectionately yours' and 'I feel as though I could search for you in every lifetime' merrily float around his head, making his brain buzz a little.

Alright. One more night with Tenna. He could manage that, and then he'd slip back into the shadows as he'd originally intended.

He ignored the voice in his head, the one begging him to keep close to Tenna, to mutually bask in the light he provided.

Soup was in too deep. Way in over his head. He smuggled himself and the basket plus flowers out of the studio, hiding them away safely.

The next time Tenna goes into his dressing room, there's a note waiting for him.

"I'm yours for that evening. Terribly rude of you to be this charming. A gentle heads up, it sounds like the event will be black tie, so I'll have to raid your costume department. My usual pinstripe won't cut it. Apologies in advance. I'll have to lay low for a bit, last night was a lot to process. But know that I am thinking of you always. See you Sunday night."

The note is formal, a bit stiff, an attempt at acknowledgement written in a hand that appears to have been trembling. It's an attempt at distance, trying to establish a new normal.

...

But underneath that, on the corner of the page is an imprint of lipstick in the shape of very familiar lips. An arrow points to it that reads, "A promise of things to come, if you're interested.")

-🍲

[[LONG RESPONSE]]

(Magnetising, a singular word defined their current relationship. Two passing ships, one carrying veiled cargo, too private for the other to stumble upon. Mr Tenna couldn’t bear the idea of a push-pull relationship, yet the separation caused an insatiable hunger. The quantity of gifts, sickly sweetness of their notes, starkly contrasting with distant attitudes despite the aching need to draw closer, and the slow cracking of their external personas. Palpable tension and curious interest reeled back to cold detachment. Two passing ships disguised as bad actors. The formality of Soup’s note hit sharp and direct, the conclusion twisting the prior message into a promise Tenna yearned so desperately to come to fruition. Weekdays intensified in stress level, the CRT drowned himself in work as a distraction, seemingly more talkative with employees, surprising them with his exaggerated, jovial and proud demeanour. Game shows evolved into bombastic theatrical masterpieces. Of course this was an elaborate foil, bubbling under the surface was a heartfelt need to relive the night he basked in open-ended sensitivity. The urge formed his heart into tacky molasses confined in glass. He shielded these feelings, but it was only a matter of time before someone whipped off the sheet, exposing this selfish act publicly. Then it would seep into every facet of his waking life, permanently altering his career. Was it ego-driven? Did he only pamper Soup due to the affirmations he’d received, or did Tenna have the capacity to fall in love again?

Love. It was a word he used so frequently in television that it’s meaning became desaturated. It bled out constantly, surely he hadn’t rung it dry with overuse. Past experiences made him wince, a previous relationship had him head over heels, thriving on affection and praise, only to be stood up at the end of the line. Mr Ant Tenna vowed, from that moment on, he’d no longer be a dog, kicked in the ribs, yet pathetically whimpering for treats. No more settling for bottom of the barrel bullshit, but when your self worth is external, what do you expect?

After uncovering the identity of his admirer, Tenna tormented himself with the foolish idea of furthering the relationship. They’d only met twice, those encounters generously spaced apart. Imprudently casting aside his duties that night, demanding staff cover for him (after all, he hired them to exceed their role when necessary) solely to create space for a man so mysterious and cocky, feverishly drawn in by his stand-offish attitude. It reminded him of someone he’d rather forget. That thought quickly diminished by the gentle, caring side of Soup. His admirers attention to detail, gentleness and physical contact in spite of prior anonymity. Even when grumbling under his breath, he allowed softness to seep through. The problem Soup had to begin with, allowing himself to be spoilt, temporarily melted away in the arms of a TV giant.

Absence became a game, just as it was in the dressing room, to coax feelings out and leave them bare. Aware of the power he possessed (his capability to completely dominate a space with his presence alone), Tenna became somewhat drunk on the idea that he was immovable. Television was everywhere, even after the golden era, he had longevity. For now, at least.

Copious decorations flooded the studio, even has a still image, Tenna was everywhere. Glaring from garlands, plastered to the side of cups, slapped to posters. His existence intoxicating, impossible to escape. Just as he liked it. The anniversary of TV Time was tonight. In the back of the limousine, sprawled a television tipsy from champagne, shrunk with nerves. Hoping for once, he wasn’t at the mercy of his emotions. Wishful thinking. Feigning composure, he swirled the flute, gulping a generous volume of sparkling alcohol. Tonight he’d brush up against the stars, bask in the attention of fans, and show of fanciful footwork. His outfit looked much the same as on-air, yet the colours muted to accommodate the formal theme. Shocking red and yellow mellowed to a sultry burgundy and classy metallic gold tie. Colleagues arrived in separate transportation. He considered hitching a ride with Ramb, who could handle his liquor, abandoning the idea in favour of thoughtful solitude. Calm before the storm.

Mr Tenna couldn’t view much of TV World from the privacy glass, buildings and bulb-lights for picture houses whizzed past, hazy and dreamlike. Unfurling the letter from his pocket, Tenna took extra care in preserving the lipstick print. Studying the handwriting, he flipped the page where the stain had pressed the paper. He sighed, breath shaky and drew the paper up to his lips, pressing them to the mark. His lips reeled back, paper slightly wet. Tenna exhaled warmly, expensive champagne scenting the page.)

What am I thinking… he won’t show. This is so ridiculous.

(The chauffeur chimed up, their voice snapping Tenna from his act. Flustered, he rapidly retreated the paper to his jacket.)

Sir, we’re just parking up now. Thank you for travelling with us, have a marvellous evening. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

[give-soup-please]

They're angry over one of the most basic components of his character?

I was kind of joking about that post about how you couldn't make Blazing Saddles nowadays, but I guess it's just true. You can't even make Superman these days without them complaining he's woke.

[give-soup-please]

(edit: chapter was reloaded because i've decided to take the story in a slightly different direction.)

Tenna has a freakout.

[give-soup-please]

(Soup is out like a light in less than ten minutes. But just before he surrenders, he mumbles, "Let's... play pretend. Let's pretend this moment will last forever, and that I won't have to leave in the morning."

His smile is very sad. "That'd be nice..."

And then he falls asleep.

-🍲

(The next day springs forth, the walls of the VIP room hazy as sunshine attempts to creep though the edges of the blackout blinds. Tenna is nowhere to be seen. Inside the VIP room is a surprise for Soup. The pit itself is dotted with several blankets. Strangely they linger with Mr Tennas cologne. On the countertop sits a basket encased in cellophane. Cushioned with scarlet shredded paper lie several cans of soup (French onion, lobster bisque, cream of chicken, and mushroom & truffle), a large selection box of Godiva Finesse Supreme chocolates, a generously sized champagne and one VIP pass. The cellophane is dotted with butter yellow stars, the entire gift topped with a cherry red bow. It looks like someone went all out. Beside the hamper, a bouquet of blue and purple hydrangeas. Not the usual Tenna colour scheme, sticking out like a sore thumb next to the meticulously crafted hamper. However, their color symbolism rings true: Gratitude for being understood. Accompanying the flowers, a note reads the following:

My darling Soup,

Thank you so much for last night. I know it's hard to let your guard down, but I was so happy to provide a space for you to relax. Thank you so much for all the love and support you've given me this week. I really appreciate you. Maybe it's easier for me to write than to say, but I feel so safe around you. Don't feel obliged to, but I'd love to see you again.

This weekend is a busy one for me, but I cordially invite you to our after-party to celebrate the anniversary of TV Time this Sunday. It runs rather late, but doors open at 19:00, dinner is at 19:30 and the main hall opens at 20:30. No TV dinners here, the crew have hired a hotel with some of the most elegant dining and dance halls I've ever seen. We'll be brushing up with the stars! I should practice my waltz... As a fair warning, it will be televised. You can attend with me as a plus one, or if you'd prefer, by yourself. If playing these elusive games of chasing the other gets your heart racing, then I look forward to seeking you out again. I feel as though I could search for you in every lifetime. Is that going a step too far?

Affectionately yours,

Mr Ant Tenna

)

[give-soup-please]

Thank you for your kind words! <3

Tenna continues his whirlwind tour of TV World, and he and Cosmo share an intimate moment together while dancing.

yet another update for my Tenna x OC fic

[give-soup-please]

Troubling news.

Source details and larger version.