#Spamton is NOT old enough to drink in this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solalunar-eclipse · 1 year

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Strings Neither Green Nor Red

Chapter title: Yellow Threads (Videon E. Addison)

AO3 Link

Rating: T

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: As much as Spamton might try, he can't avoid his old friends/coworkers forever. And is staying away really doing any of them any favors? (Aka I really like reuniting Spamton with the Addisons who used to know him and jumped at the chance to do it here. Set post-Chapter 2.)

Spamton belongs to Toby Fox, all other characters belong to @brightgoat on Tumblr and Twitter. (Also, just so you all know, this fic is probably going to wind up being a bit lighter than the average piece of Brightgoat content, just due to my own writing style. Hopefully that's not too much of an issue!)

Also: TW for implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism in this chapter.

It was a dark day in Cyber City. The glowing screens and advertisements plastered across every building gleamed as the sole source of light for all the city’s inhabitants. If one of them were to look up, all they would see beyond the skyscrapers and between the green grid was a dark void stretching out into infinity.

Of course, it was always this dark in Cyber City, no matter what, but at the moment Video felt like it reflected their mood more than usual.

They blinked tiredly, struggling to focus their eyes on the clock by their cash register, which read six a.m.—the start of their shift. They’d had an early night (for once) yesterday, but somehow when they did sleep, it was always restless and uncomfortable, plagued with unsettling dreams that they could never quite remember.

Video sighed, and summoned up just enough energy to plaster a huge grin on their face as the first of their customers came in for the day. Their numbers had been dwindling for a long time now, so they were actually rather grateful for the few that remained. Even that fact could only add some genuineness to their smile, though, as genuine happiness had eluded them for a long time now.

Vid moved through their morning on autopilot, throwing out all of the catchphrases and selling points that they’d long since memorized. Their job wasn’t even something they had to focus on anymore, so it didn’t qualify as a distraction (although they often wished it did). The customers’ faces were a blur—they’d stopped trying to memorize new names a while ago. They weren’t really able to these days, unfortunately.

Once the clock hit twelve, it was technically time for him to close up shop for his lunch break, but he didn’t particularly care if he was working or not, honestly...at least not until the end of the day, when he could hopefully go to the nearest bar and drink his sorrows away.

He rubbed at his eyes as he stepped out into the street, trying to adjust to something that wasn’t the monotonous glare of the fluorescent lights in his store, before pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. Once upon a time, he’d had access to constant, endless energy, but that wasn’t something he could rely on anymore. The person who’d been there to fuel it was gone now, and his sales (his entire life) hadn’t been the same since.

No, not “the person”. He had a name. Spamton. Video’s jaw tightened slightly—Pay’s constant emotional repression must’ve been getting to him more than he realized.

As Vid turned the sign in his store to the side marked “Closed”, a flicker of movement in the reflection on the glass door caught his eye. A tasque, perhaps, searching for food in the nearby alleyway?

He walked over to check (his easily distractible nature was one of the few traits of his that had remained over time), but saw…nothing. The yellow Addison shrugged and was just about to turn away when a sudden crinkle, followed by a loud slam, came from the dumpster in the alley.

“…hello?” he called warily.

The bin remained silent. Suddenly, though, a tasque did actually appear, padding over to the dumpster and beginning to paw at it and meow unhappily.

“Aw, is one of your friends stuck in there?” Video asked, his expression softening a little. The tasque looked very cute and sad, he had to admit.

As he walked over to the bin and placed a hand on the top, he heard some rustling from inside. “Alright then, let’s see what we’ve got in here.” he said, opening the lid to reveal…

…still nothing?

The tasque leapt into the dumpster and began to paw vigorously at the trash, making Video yelp and jump aside. He took a few more rapid steps back as the contents of the bin began to move without warning, but froze when he heard a voice complaining from inside.

“STOP IT, YOU SILLY [[Feline]]!! CAN’T YOU [C] I’M TRYING TO [Undercover Agent]—?!?”

The person inside cut themselves off abruptly, but Video had already heard more than enough for him to know who was inside. He stumbled forwards until he hit the edge of the dumpster, clinging to it with both hands in a desperate bid to remain upright as his thoughts whirled with disbelief.

Sprawled amongst the trash, his black-dyed hair all a mess as a tasque licked vigorously at his face, was Spamton G. Spamton himself.

He looked genuinely stunned as he stared up at Video, clearly lacking all of his usual bravado. “UM…HI?”

“You’re alive.” Vid breathed, his mind returning to him in full force. “You’re alive, oh my god!”

His mouth kicked into overdrive seconds later, finally remembering that he knew a decent amount of words as well as how to use them. “Holy—where have you been all this time?! Why didn’t you come back home, didn’t you know I thought you were dead? What happened to you?!?” he yelled, turning away to pace back and forth forcefully.

Spamton blinked. “WAIT. SINCE WHEN. DID YOU WANT. ME TO COME BACK?”

“What?” Video wheezed, halting his movement as Spam’s response registered. “Since when’d you think I didn’t?”

“THAT [[Late Night Special]] AT THE CYBER GRILL—?” The smaller Addison froze as his voice glitched, clapping a hand over his mouth. He moved farther back into the bin, eyes darting around for an escape route, but Vid wasn’t having any of that.

“Hey hey hey, first of all, calm down.” Video insisted, kneeling down in front of Spam. “I’m not gonna be stupid like Click and make fun of you, ‘kay? Second, no, I’m not mad. Man, I wasn’t even upset for more than, like, a day or two, and then I realized how stupid I was being and came to look for you…but you weren’t there.”

Spamton looked away. “WELL, YOU MADE IT [Clear As Day] TO ME THAT YOU WANTED ME [Out of Stock] IN YOUR LIVES.”

“I—” Vid began, his hands starting to shake. “Spam, I—I’m so sorry. I…….I don’t have any excuse for what I did. I could come up with a million, but I’d just be lying. I was a jealous jerk, and that’s the end of it. And you don’tever have to forgive me, or talk to me again, but—oh god, if I have to spend the rest of my life without you I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“HA! YEAH, [[Shore Vacations 20% Off]].” Spam scoffed. “PULL THE OTHER ONE.”

“N-no, seriously! I know I didn’t tell you this enough way back when, but my life is literally better when you’re around. Like, I thought I was just hyper all day, every day because that’s me! But…now, I can barely do my job, man. I spend my nights at the bar like a loser, just trying to not feel like actual garbage for maybe a couple hours…but all that does is make me sound like a jerk. Dammit. Because, like, the fact that I can run away from my problems is probably still better than what you’ve been through. God, I’m rambling, I didn’t mean to, I just, I’d do literally anything to be able to talk to you for real again. Anything. Whatever you want, I’m serious. I will literally pay you actual money, whatever it is you want. Please.”

By the time they’d finished speaking, Vid could feel genuine tears welling up in their eyes. They’d cried plenty of nights when they were alone, but this was the first time it had happened in front of someone else.

Spamton just stared at him for a minute. With every second that ticked by, Vid felt more and more terrified…until finally, Spam spoke.

“YOU WANNA [Specil Purchase!] ME [[Government-Mandated Lunch Break]], THEN?”

“Are…you asking me to get lunch with you?” Vid asked, stunned.

“HEY, IF YOU’RE GONNA GIVE ME [[Wild Prizes]], I MIGHT AS [Well Visit] TAKE THEM!”

“I’m guessing this doesn’t mean we’re cool yet, though.” Vid said weakly.

Spamton hesitated. “NOT…YET. THAT WAS A PRETTY [A+] SPEECH THOUGH.”

“I meant it.” Video insisted.

“I NEVER SAID I DIDN’T [[Buy It Now!]].” Spam said, his face unreadable.

Vid stood up, their legs trembling. “Geez, I can barely walk. …uh, what do you want for lunch?”

“DOESN’T MATTER. I’M [Mail Order] THE MOST EXPENSIVE [[Item In Store]].” Spamton smirked.

“Fair…I’ll pick a medium decent place then.”

“NOT THE [[Bargain Bin]]?” Spam asked, curious.

“What, you seriously think I’m gonna stiff you? Now?” Vid was incredulous. “Did I not just say how much I want you to hang out with me again?”

“…HUH.” was Spamton’s only response.

True to his word, Spam did order the most expensive thing on the menu, and Vid shelled out the money for it without a single wince. This, more than any of the nervous conversation Video tried to make, seemed to help convince Spamton somewhat of their intentions.

After Vid had handed over their card, Spam started a conversation for the first time in the whole meal. “WHAT [[GPS Locator]] ARE YOU WORKING [@] TODAY?”

“Oh! Uh, just ad block/unblock. Basic stuff.” Vid said, clearly surprised.

“YOU GET ANY UN[[Block User]]S TODAY?” Spamton asked, smirking. It was a running source of irritation amongst all of the Addisons that hardly anyone came into their stores to get ads back. Having that happen was exceptionally rare and could make the user in question an instantly valued customer…so long as they didn’t reblock ads later.

“God, I wish. That’d be hilarious.” Vid smiled. “I think the latest person to get one was Cinnemon. I can’t even say I’m surprised, she’s really nice to her customers.”

“THAT’S THE ONE WHO LIKES [[Food Safety Rules]], RIGHT?”

“Yeah.” Video said, still half smiling. “I never told her why I was feeling so bad these past, like…years…but she gives me free cake sometimes, which is awesome.”

“SWEET, EVEN.” Spam said automatically, before seeming startled by his own joke.

Vid laughed. It was short, rusty—a little harsh, even. But still, it left them stunned. “Geez. I…I don’t think I’ve laughed in ages.”

“ARE YOU [srs]?” Spamton asked, sounding almost genuine.

“Yeah, wow…can’t even remember the last time I smiled for real. Yikes.”

“HUH…YOU REALLY [1 Missed Call] ME THAT MUCH?”

“I did.” Vid said quietly, visibly shrinking back into their chair.

A heavy silence fell over the table.

“…YOU WANNA GET [Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!] DAY AFTER TOMORROW?”

“Really? Yes!!” Video cried, nearly jumping out of their seat.

“DON’T GET TOO [Hype Train].” Spamton said flatly. “I’M STILL [[Cashing In]] ON THAT PROMISE OF YOURS.”

“Okay, okay. But still!” Vid exclaimed, jittering slightly. They were so excited at the promise of seeing Spam again, of smiling more, of, well…maybe, eventually, forgiveness.

…

Over the next few weeks, Video and Spamton met up occasionally for meals, slowly but surely rebuilding a fragile version of the bond they’d once had, despite Spam’s insistence otherwise. The former Addi had been starved for attention and care for far too long, and Vid was more than happy to provide.

As the visits continued on, Vid refused to disappoint, time after time, showing nothing but eagerness and compassion. Not long afterwards, Spam slowly stopped ordering only the most expensive food in favor of things he genuinely wanted.

One day, they’d had to have the difficult conversation about what had happened to each of them since they’d last been friends. It had been looming over several of their previous conversations, but Vid was eventually the one who brought it up first, forcing himself (and the other three Addis, despite the fact that they weren’t even there) to lay everything bare.

Shame had visibly weighed him down as he spoke, but he’d forced the words out regardless, insisting that Spam only deserved to know the truth if they were going to continue spending time together.

Some of it surprised Spamton, some of it didn’t, but in the end, he refused to stop spending time with the yellow Addi, leaving him elated. Meanwhile, he evaded telling Vid too much, giving him only a basic outline of what had happened—omitting Neo entirely, of course.

Video hadn’t been comfortable pushing the subject, something which Spam was grateful for. Still, despite the lack of information he’d provided, something about that had seemed to clear the air, allowing their later conversations to be lighter than before.

(Vid had also opted not to tell the other Addis about Spamton, both on his own and later at Spam’s request.)

One day, as a matter of fact, Video noticed that it was time for their lunch break to end…but for once, due to some weird scheduling, he didn’t actually have to go back to their job for the afternoon. “Hey, do you want to do literally anything else but work right now?”

“I DON’T HAVE [[A steady job]] ANYMORE, REMEMBER? YOU”RE [[The One And Only]] WHO EVEN HAS TO WORK.” Spamton said, smirking.

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” Video cried, throwing up his hands. “…wait, was that supposed to be funny or serious?”

“WHY CAN’T IT BE [[A Two For One Deal!]]?.” Spam asked. When this got him only awkward silence, he continued, “WELL, IF YOU DON’T NEED TO DO YOUR [Work Hours], HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT [[Hitting the town]]?”

“Oh my god, yes!” Video shouted, jumping to his feet. “Genius! I actually kind of had something I’ve been wanting to do for a while…”

…

…it was a miracle he didn’t get caught, honestly, despite the amount of time he spent watching the building beforehand to make sure he got his timing right. When Spamton had picked up on what the yellow Addi wanted to do, he’d even insisted on helping, much to Vid’s surprise. He hadn’t refused, though, delighted to do just about anything with Spam.

The danger in the situation was that pink Addisons were notoriously uptight, as well as famously strong…and Joyston was the strongest of them all. Video knew that running into him while pulling this off could potentially spell disaster and even death for both of them—but that was what made it fun.

After sneaking into his store and proceeding to swap every single pair of Dating Shoes for Divorce Shoes and vice versa, the two Addisons fled to the rooftop of the building across the street, shooting each other smirks the whole time.

“YOU’RE [[Legally Obligated]] TO TELL ME HOW HE REACTS TOMORROW, YOU KNOW!” Spam insisted, actually smiling for once. It had been fun for him to do something as frivolous as that again, truthfully.

Video grinned back. “Oh, man, absolutely.”

He looked out across the street and up towards the skyscrapers, enjoying the way the lights mixed together.

“HEY. YOU WANNA [Feast Your Eyes!] SOMETHING COOL?” Spamton asked suddenly.

“Uh—sure!” Vid said, eager to do just about anything Spam might suggest.

Their old friend led him on a several-block walk without elaborating. At first, Video was too nervous to even ask what was going on, but after about three minutes, they mustered up the courage to speak.

“Are we there yet?” they asked, and then immediately regretted it.

It seemed to hit well with Spamton, though, because he let out a glitchy laugh. It surprised him almost as much as it did Vid—enough to make his stride stutter briefly.

Video smiled, relief sinking into them. Maybe…maybe they could repair things after all.

Spam led them up a fire escape, then across a few rooftops to yet another ladder. Once Vid had made it to the top, they looked around and saw…nothing but bland skyscrapers.

“Why are we here?” they asked, bewildered.

“DOWN THERE, [[Wise guy]].” Spam said flatly, but he was smiling.

Vid walked to the edge of the rooftop and looked over—

—and down into a shining column of multicolored, ever shifting light.

“Whoa…” they breathed, stunned.

“THOSE [Paid Advertisements] LOOK EVEN NICER UP [[In the stratosphere]], DON’T THEY?”

“Those are—wait, is that Central Plaza?!” Video gasped. “I’ve never seen it like this before!”

“SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA [Eyeball] SOMETHING A DIFFERENT WAY, AND IT’LL LOOK [[better than ever!]]” Spam said, moving to sit at the edge of the roof.

“…is that supposed to be a metaphor for something?” Vid asked, smirking.

“[Yes, no, maybe so].” Spamton muttered. “I WANTED TO SAY…I”M [[Apologies for the poor service!]] ABOUT WHAT I SAID [Way Back When] TOO. I GOT M4D WAY TOO FAST>.”

“Spam…” Video murmured, rapidly losing the ability to speak.

“YEAH?”

“I’d trash my motorbike in a hot second if I could take back everything from that day. I promise. That’s how much I wanna fix this.” they said, looking him in the eyes (as well as they could with his glasses, anyway).

Spamton stared at him. “BUT YOU [[Cherish]] THAT BIKE.”

“Not as much as I care about you.” Vid insisted.

After a long, long pause, Spam hesitantly shifted closer to Video, before leaning his head on the yellow Addi’s arm. “That…means a lot.” he said softly, his voice not glitching for once.

“I’ll say it again if you want.” Vid said, putting an arm around Spam’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

“NAH…[[One Time Only!]] ALL I NEED.” he said, turning back to look out at the city lights with his friend once again.

#deltarune #spamton #spamton g spamton #yellow addison #videon e addison #this is literally my first time ever writing any of these characters so i REALLY hope it turned out well #feel free to leave constructive criticism if you'd like!#i was hunting for fanfic of these characters a while back and came up with...absolutely nothing #so i was like GUESS I HAVE TO DO IT MYSELF THEN #anyway hope you all enjoyed #and have a great day!

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hazmaticalblue · 11 months

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updates from spamton cosplay:

no little children have cried because of my face paint!

it is so hard to eat and drink with my facepaint but my black lipstick is a slay

i took my gloves off to type this

there's a cute couple wearing matching angel and devil costumes both of them are so <3,,,

im not showing my face on here yet cuz im scared and also idk if my stepmom is ok with that (im a minor) (not specifying my age either but i'm at least old enough to have socials)

MY LITTLE BROTHER GOT ME A MINI RUBBER BALLOON UNICORN MY HEART LOOK AT IT <3333

#spamton #spamton cosplay #having fun :3 #DGHEHDHEJDBEHE MINI BALLOON #MINI BALLOON CRITGER #my lipstick tastes like black paint #they're playing the macarena at the skating rink rn #aaaaayyyy macarena

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movedtodykedvonte · 2 years

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Happy Valentine’s Day (or late Valentine’s Day depending lol) There’s something I’ve been wondering since the last chapter of CDAP- what would happen if Vidie and Spam had tried the other Addison teas?

Ok so if they tried the other teas I think it would have gone a bit differently.

Spamton would probably jokingly rate the flavors and be a bit honest about how each had changed and lamented on whether he missed the old flavors or not. I think he would leave it vague if he did or not, both so Vidie wouldn't tell and to not hurt Vidie if he avoided doing so when he eventually got to her tea. Vidie would drink the teas and feel a lot of remorse with each of them. Despite Spamton not really hating the new flavors, Vidie may have had a worse reaction cause well... The ads spent years actively building resentment toward each other. They of course missed each other but part of why they never tried to reconcile outside of Spam coming back was bitterness. Vidie would taste a weird and overwhelming combination of the nice flavor she remembers and the unsavory ones they are currently still working through. Spamton missed them a lot, and his pallet is more pliable. To be honest, it would depend on the day on how well the tea tasted, the chapter happen to be a day he was feeling very fondly of Vidie.

It would end the same, with Vidie and Spamton tasting each other's teas and becoming a bit emotional but otherwise I feel like it would give Vidie some chip on his shoulder that they shared this little gossip moment. As for the taste of each tea to Vidie and Spam:

Banner Tea: It's watered down for Vidie currently, a bitterness kinda like alcohol with a faint sweetness reminding her how it should taste. Maybe she can taste more of it with every sip or maybe it's just hope. Once upon a time it had the playful taste of blackberries mixed with it but it's pretty dull now. A good tea to think with still.

For Spamton it's the opposite, sweet like you tried to cover up its naturally bitter taste but overdid it which makes it all the worse. The saving grace is the taste of blueberries, which almost feel like it was brewed in the juice. It tastes like an unripe fruit all things considered and he continues to drink it to imagine what it could be like if you gave it more time to grow.

Surv Tea: To Vidie it's Lemon ginger tea with way too much ginger, like you took a bite of ginger and then drank hot lemon water. It tastes over-brewed like you missed a mark by waiting too long, it's got that spice-like burn that only lingers for a second, reminding you that you messed up even if it isn't saying so. Can easily be fixed with some sweetness and some ice.

To Spam, it's your average black tea with lemon in it, but sugar instead of honey. It for all intents and purposes tastes the same as it did before but the sweetness seems more artificial and he can somehow taste the bitterness from the lemon rind. It's not unappetizing but it's disappointing cause it could've been better if you just switched a few things around.

Audi Tea: Vidie knows it's not supposed to be this watered down. Think of sweet iced tea with an orange slice dropped in, citrus that doesn't exactly add a twang but still enhances the flavor. Now imagine that it didn't brew long enough and the ice has melted and the orange wasn't juicy enough. It's palatable but it tastes like something that would've been perfect if you just gave it more attention. It's still pretty refreshing so I guess it's not that bad...

This is the sweetest tea Spamton has ever tasted. It's like orange marmalade and passion tea had a baby. It's not bad but it's hard to take in one sitting like you'd start to feel ill cause you or rather Spam just isn't used to it anymore. The orangey taste isn't defined anymore either which makes the sweetness just that much more overbearing. It's not the tea's fault but it's gonna take some time until Spam can handle it all again.

#ask #anon #happy late valentines ask #i just couldn't think of what the other teas would actually be #like i know the taste but the irl equivalent escaped me.#cause like each have 4 slightly different teas and I doe no know 20 distinct types of teas #nor have i tried enough iterations of the ones I know to go into spects #utdr #spamton #deltarune #royal blue #pink drink #when life gives you lemons #marmalade #CDAP au #the addisons #all we do is date

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bigshot · 2 years

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WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS (Not Accepting)

anonymous said: i LOVE how much effort is put into the theme with all the secret links!! could you do 19, 27, 38, 54, and 55 for the weirdly specific questions? sorry if you've answered any of those before!

THANK YOU!! Theme building is one of my favorite parts of setting up new blogs and I had too much fun with Spamton’s ;;w;;

19. What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

It definitely wouldn’t last long if whoever it is knows to play on his temper for a response, but Spamton’s petty enough to pretend they aren’t there at all.

They try talking to him? Nah, he didn’t hear anything. Touch him? Hmm, weird breeze in here. Stand in his way? Christ, the wallpaper’s gettin uglier every day!

27. What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

"WOULDN’’T YOU L1KE TO KN 0W.”

38. What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Whether or not he’s good is subjective, but Spamton enjoys painting. He likes watching Bob Ross streams.

It’s a way to express himself that can’t be corrupted and art lends itself to being abstract, anyway. He likes doing simple landscapes, things with lots of open sky, the types of places and sights he’d like to go see. He’s already painted up the walls of his room in Isola just like his old shop’s. Maybe he even sketches while he’s out, but he’ll never admit it.

He has a hard time working in front of people, though. A person in the room is a distraction, he likes to talk and his hands are shaky enough as it is that adding how animated he can get in conversation just ruins whatever he’s trying to do.

54. What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

It depends on his confidence, but either fight or flight.

Spamton’s not going out looking for fights and he’s going to actively avoid getting into real ones, with Kris he wanted to see if their Soul was legit powerful and got the feeling a battle would be a good sales pitch besides, but if you try starting one he’d be game to tussle.

But if the situation seems out of his hands or it’s somebody who’s kicked his ass before, though? And he isn’t already hiding somewhere? Fuck all ya’ll, he rUNNING.

55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

It’s complicated.

He loves the act of making deals, a successful sale is a rush he’s never managed to replicate and the whole ‘big shot’ businessman lifestyle is something he misses dearly. Schmoozing around with clients, drinking with bigwigs, expensive cigars, even more expensive cars, the commercials and glamour and the adoring public and doing anything he wants...

But he doesn’t care much for money. Like, sure, he wants the money. It’s nice to have. Money gets you places and getting rich is the whole point of being a businessman. That’s how you get the glamour and the people. It’s a core part of who and what he is.

But if he was able to do all of that and not make a dime? He’d be totally fine with it. Hell, it’d probably make his life a lot easier.

#Long Post #Headcanons #finally found the css for making <.small.> text look normal #on the blog that is #so now i feel better using it #thought it was getting too unreadable #Answered Meme

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eudevie · 3 years

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Ralsei’s Prophecies,Snowgrave route, Spamton, and LOVE

There are some interesting implications when you look at all these together. First, Let’s look at the Prophecies. More under the cut. EDIT: default profile pic= block.

Prophecy 1, in ch 1:

So according to this, Three HEROES only appear at WORLD’S edge when stuff goes to hell in a handbasket. However, In the second prophecy:

Once upon a time, a LEGEND was whispered among shadows.

It was a LEGEND of HOPE.

It was a LEGEND of DREAMS.

It was a LEGEND of LIGHT.

It was a LEGEND of DARK.

This is the legend of DELTA RUNE

For millenia, LIGHT and DARK have lived in balance,

Bringing peace to the WORLD.

But if this harmony were to shatter...

a terrible calamity would occur.

The sky will run black with terror

And the land will crack with fear.

Then, her heart pounding...

The EARTH will draw her final breath.

Only then, shining with hope...

Three HEROES appear at WORLDS' edge.

A HUMAN,

A MONSTER,

And a PRINCE FROM THE DARK.

Only they can seal the fountains

And banish the ANGEL'S HEAVEN.

Only then will balance be restored,

And the WORLD saved from destruction.

The second one doesn’t mention the HEROES at all. Just Three Titans. Weird how it’s both three of them.

When the LIGHT is subsumed by SHADOW

When the FOUNTAINS fill the sky

All will fall into CHAOS

The TITANS will take form from the FOUNTAINS

And envelop the land in devastation

The surviving Darkners, Crushed by the darkness

Will slowly, one by one, turn into statues

Leaving the Lightners to fend for themselves

Lost eternally in an endless night...

. But maybe, with the Snowgrave route we learn something...

If the Three heroes became filled with LV, wanting to become strong, like Noelle ends up doing, who, unprompted, starts looking for enemies to fight, acting on her own in a way...

What happens then? Unless Berdly wakes up from being Fallen Down, it seems things have changed. Noelle isn’t dumb, she would figure out it WASN’T a dream. On the usual route, this may not happen. The Queen remarks Noelle is “Too Awake.” which is strange.

She would know she was being controlled, and Kris as well.

Wouldn’t you want to break free? How would one do that?

On the Snowgrave route Spamton NEO Fight, he says this:

Making...what?

NO, I GET IT! IT'S YOU AND THAT [Hochi Mama]! YOU'VE BEEN [Making], HAVEN'T YOU!

YOU'VE BEEN MAKING [Hyperlink Blocked]!

AND NOW THAT YOU HAVE YOUR OWN SUPPLY, YOU DON'T NEED ME!!!

YOU THINK MAKING [Frozen Chicken] WITH YOUR [Side Chick] IS GONNA LET YOU DRINK UP THAT [Sweet, Sweet] [Freedom Sauce]?

WELL, YOU'RE [$!$!] RIGHT! BUT DON'T BLAME ME WHEN YOU'RE [Crying] IN A [Broken Home] WISHING YOU LET YOUR OLD PAL SPAMTON [Kill You]

When we replace [[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]] in his introduction...

This may be a play on Love/LOVE. (Which is why Spamton is indirectly calling Noelle a ho in a way. Bad Spamton.)

Maybe getting stronger/more powerful= an ability to cut the strings in his eyes?

It makes more sense. People also said “Determination” could fit here as well, but, he fights you afterward so maybe not?

WELL HAVE I GOT A [[Specil Deal]] FOR LONELY [[Hearts]] LIKE YOU!!

IF YOU'VE [[Lost Control Of Your Life]]

THEN YOU JUST GOTTA GRAB IT BY THE [[Silly Strings]]

WHY BE THE [[Little Sponge]] WHO HATES ITS [[$4.99]] LIFE

WHEN YOU CAN BE A

[[BIG SHOT!!!]]

[[BIG SHOT!!!!]]

[[BIG SHOT!!!!!]]

THAT'S RIGHT!! NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A [[BIG SHOT]]!!

AND I HAVE JUST.

THE THING.

YOU NEED.

THAT'S

[[LOVE]].

YOU WANT IT.

YOU WANT [[LOVE]], DON'T YOU.

WELL HAVE I GOT A DEAL FOR YOU!!

ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SHOW ME.

YOUR [[HeartShapedObject]].

If being strong enough, though NEO (what he thought) or LOVE, is what can cut strings, (or, become a Big Shot...”one who calls the shots” shall we say.)

What happens when the strings we have on the Heroes are cut? Or things are not going how they are supposed to?

Possibly, the second Prophecy. Ralsei only brings the titans up when the heroes start thinking making more dark fountains is a good idea. If the Heroes aren’t there to seal the fountains, the other prophecy might come true.

May be why Ralsei is alarmed when Susie ACTs on her own. Ralsei may already know about us, the player. The town is named [PLAYER] Town after all. Who named it that...?

Ralsei, in the Snowgrave route, tries to encourage Kris to “Don’t you wonder...what they are doing in there?” and normally, Ralsei would talk to Kris without us observing. (In both ch 2, and ch 1!) But when that doesn’t happen...

“Wait, we were supposed to - -”

...SUPPOSED TO WHAT, RALSEI?! At this point, it’s almost certain Ralsei knows about the Puppeteer.

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

Also IDK where to fit this, may be relevant if getting stronger is the key to breaking free from control:

#Deltarune Spoilers #Deltarune ch. 2 #Spamton #Ralsei #Susie #Deltarune #Kris #The Prophecy #Titans #ACT #Noelle #Snowgrave route #Weird Route #Pipis Route #e rants about undertale #but it's deltarune

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hollowsart · 3 years

Text

Miscellaneous info about Eldritch Spamton!

This gets a bit wordy and possibly a little repetitive of previously stated/mentioned information, sorry about that!

but it’s nice to have it all in one place!

=====

- He is in his early 40's and stands 4'9" in height. He's built a bit thick. With the addition of the heels on his shoes he reaches just about 5ft.

- His body is made up of mismatched materials put together in a ball-jointed doll shape/form. however, his torso (stomach section) is cloth, it is plush. You put your hands on his stomach and you could feel the wires and tendrils inside him if you press in enough. It'd be pretty nice to use him as a pillow lol very warm!

- He has a few little tics that he does, jerking his head/cracking his neck occasionally (it can look a bit painful when he does it, though sometimes he does it in a way that helps relieve some tension). Grinding his jaw, it clacks a bit when he talks. The tics can get worse when he's stressed or under pressure. He also glitches, his voice filling with static and becoming garbled like a really bad/old radio or an old tv with horrible audio.

- The glitching that happens occasionally leads to his body pretty much rattling and jolting. He already has a light bit of static that can be felt when you touch his bare skin, it’s a warm and pleasant sure of buzz. However, the static builds when he glitches and can cause a static shock if you tried to touch him, even through his clothes. It doesn’t last long, though, only a couple of seconds and he snaps himself out of it. When the glitching happens his voice also glitches and ends up jumping/repeating, but it resolves itself when he snaps out of it.

- He wears gloves and covers his body as best he can to hide the dollness of his appearance. He can't fully hide his neck or cover his head. His neck is the only section of his body where his tendrils are visible/exposed.

- He has a wooden "tongue plate" inside his mouth used only for aesthetic purposes. He can move it around if he wanted and he can even make himself look rather silly if he sticks it out of his mouth like this: :P

- Although usually the tongue plate just sits in his mouth in the base of his jaw, it's held there by a small tendril. He has a specialized tendril in his mouth that is used as a tongue, helps with talking as well as eating and drinking. He keeps that one hidden, though, when he opens his mouth wide enough as he is shy about the tendrils. Nervous people he's trying to be friendly with may fear him or be disgusted. he hates that. bad for business (and also bad for his mental state).

- The tendrils that make up his inside can occasionally slip through his seams or through the gaps in the joints of his arms and legs. Sometimes creeping out from his sleeves if he's getting frustrated or riled up. He's learned a lot to his tendrils under control, originally they seemed to have a mind of their own, constantly writhing and flicking around. Hiding away in the Trash Zone was definitely for the best to help him have peace and time to get used to and control his new body.

- the ad breaks/rolls that interrupt his speech are as you would normally expect. His voice is a bit loud, mostly due to being an Addison (or rather, he used to be. you can take him out of his Addison body, but you can’t take the Addison out of him), it’s something hard wired into his dna/coding. He does try to turn his volume down tho if it’s too much, sometimes the volume of his own voice gives himself a headache.

#Ghostie mumbles #spamton #eldritch spamton #spamton headcanon

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selfindulgentpolygon · 3 years

Text

Reprogram Your Future

[SFW] Polyamorous Reader x Spamton / Swatch / Addisons / Swatchlings Fic

(whew that’s a mouthful)

(A/N:

I wanna preface this by thanking y'all for reading this fic! It took several days of revisions and editing, but here's the first chapter of my pride and joy!!! I hope you like it!!! <3

Also! I will add a chapter every few days!)

━━━

Chapter 1: Breaking the Prophecy

The sound of static and a soft hum like an old CRT television invaded the air. Overwhelming amounts of trash bags and boxes surrounded the area; your windpipe constricted as you tried to confirm your situation. You hadn’t eaten dinner, and the smell from the garbage heap replaced your hunger with nausea--laying directly on contained bags of waste was not helping.

Provided that you weren’t actually dead, you pushed yourself off the bags.

Just a while ago, you were closing Hometown’s library. Wiping table surfaces, sweeping up the library, and shutting down the lab computers were part of the customary closing ritual that you and your coworker Berdly established after you first started your job.

One night, he asked if you would be fine by yourself so he could prepare for his group project the next day, and there was no issue, of course. Cleaning alone while listening to the radio was more therapeutic than hearing the feathered teen brag about his brilliance. You remember how he mistook your excessive enthusiasm for disappointment and attempted to comfort you. Beneath the cocky exterior, he was a nice kid.

*I am truly sorry that I can’t assist you tonight, my lone coworker.

*But fear not, Y/N! Your bird in glow-in-the-dark armor will provide you with the power to survive this despondent, treacherous night!

*Here--from one working-class citizen to another--a prized can of Gamer Fuel!

*(You got Gamer Fuel.)

The radio’s static-filled songs contrasted to the usual monotony of the air conditioner and stifled giggles of teens throughout the day. Moving to a small town with low apartment costs and fair-paying jobs kept you in a more secure living situation than your life beforehand.

Although your new job was pleasant, the unchanging pattern of registering books and reordering shelves waned your motivation. It had only been a week, but you considered working extra jobs as a shop assistant or a school tutor for a semblance of dynamism. You sprayed and wiped the last part of your counter, understanding that the additional work would give more purpose than sitting at the same counter for the rest of your life.

Not wanting to get home too late, you focused on your surroundings to find more tasks to complete.

Under your work surface was the “gamer fuel,” a green drink to “power your long night ahead,” and while you appreciated the gift, it was barely worth the heart palpitations. Thankfully, the small can of acid fit in your khaki pants; otherwise, you would have to sacrifice the liquid to a nearby maple tree.

On top of the counter, there was an Ice E drawing along with a few papers left by an anonymous yellow lizard to hang on the Teen’z Own board. Parsing the sheets, you saw that she left an anime review for Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2, the writings giving you mild interest. The enigmatic lizard, you recalled, lurked into the library that day wearing Mew Mew pajamas and a pair of sunglasses.

There was a moment where you panicked from thinking she was a hitman-in-disguise, what with her strange outfit and briefcase, but it turned out she just came to drop off her work. After she slunk back out, Berdly commented that she reminded him of someone he knew, but he couldn’t quite place a finger on who. Knowing him, it’s probably someone from a video game, but that didn’t matter anyway. The review was well enough that you hoped it would liven up the place.

“Maybe some lucky soul would enjoy reading it, too,” you murmured with a slight grin.

With the final staples on the eye-catching article and the Ice E drawing, you continued your quest of closing up the Librarby. Ignoring the droop in your eyelids, your body lumbered towards the lab to sweep away the shed fur of a white dog who finished a new chapter of his game recently--he definitely deserves loads of rest for his hard work. You were placing down your stapler on the Teen’z Table when you noticed something strange: the lab door was partially open despite Berdly closing it before he left.

Suddenly, a loud warble and crackling bang interrupted your thoughts. Accompanying it, a black fog informed you that someone else, or something else, was here with you. The cloud ended at the doorway, and in the library’s light, it seemed like there was an invisible wall denying it entrance into the room you were in. It didn’t smell of smoke; in fact, there was no smell at all. If you didn’t remember that the lab’s lights were on earlier, you would’ve thought that everything was shut off. The cloud was disturbingly opaque.

In the time that you stood there trying to understand what was happening, a flash of green emerged from the fluid shadows and rushed past, knocking you over the table. They sped off while you pushed yourself up and ran after them. "Come back…!”

“...here...?" But nobody was there. After scanning the sugar maple trees and dead buildings for any movement, you couldn’t find the perpetrator. Running around the street for a trespasser was not how you wanted to spend the rest of your night, so you walked back in to clean up the mess.

As you returned to the library, however, a new scene sat ahead of you. There was an emptiness where computers and desks used to exist, and the doors of the lab cast long shadows with a non-existent light source behind them, its threatening void very enticing. An otherworldly wind blew through the doorway, turning the air into an intense cold. Nothing remained of the lab.

What happened?

What did that person do?

Why is it... so... dark...?

Desperate for answers, your thoughts crashed into each other before you could process what you were doing. With each unanswered question, you inched ever closer to the opening. Seafoam green walls turned to grey, and a frigid bitterness overtook your legs, causing you to carelessly shuffle a step into the doorway.

“Wait-”

Your nerves recoiled too late.

You grasped at the air for any object to keep you from becoming gravity’s new victim. Lost balance dictated the consequences of your unchecked curiosity and dragged you to the depths of your world. The soft greys intensified with each passing second, turning darker, yet darker into saturated shades of blue. The increasing velocity knocked the air out of your lungs, but even through the pain, no screams could escape your throat.

Accompanying the pull of force, harsh temperatures cut at your exposed skin. You fell through several atmospheres in the span of a few seconds, causing the stinging air to ease into a warm envelopment around you. Immediately following the increasing heat though, your body flung into non-solid ground, eyes slamming shut on impact. Darkness and silence temporarily replaced your thoughts.

For the last hour, he’s been trying to revive the dying light bulb.

It flickered back to life occasionally when he wiggled it, but its glow would only last for a minute or so, much to his annoyance. Why is it that when he needs things the most, they abandon him? Aside from that but if someone were to stop by, how would they know that the shop was open?

Imagine the loss of a possible customer, the first one since his prime years! Maybe he could strike a deal with the bulb? He grabbed the black rotary phone from its stool and placed it on the cardboard box he called a shop counter where it wouldn’t be crushed in the event that he, or the bulb, fell. Following that, he climbed the stool and steadied the swinging, wired light source to meet his face.

“[Free Trial Has Ended], YOU SAY? WHAT ABOUT F0R THE PRIC3 OF [My Unconditional And Endless Devotion]? I COULD EVEN THROW IN A [Limited Supply] OF NOT [Resorting To Violence] IF YOU WOULD. JUST. WORK.”

His offer was met with darkness. Gritting his teeth whilst making empty promises was not the way to fix this; he needed to pull out the big guns. With a deep inhale and clenched jaw, he hissed out a salesman’s sacred word:

“...PLEASE.”

With a single, defeated tug at the bulb, it lit up again with full brightness.

“... WHAT . SER> IOUSLY!!! ?! THAT’S ALL IT TOOK??? I POURED OUT MY [Ribcage], OFFERED YOU MY [Hyperlink Blocked], AND ALL YOU W4NTED WAS FOr ME TO [[Beg for yuor compliance] !!! (/S) ?!! YOU ONLY SEE M3 AS A [[Desperate]] PIECE OF [Pick 5 meats for 20$], DOn^T YOU.”

In response to his insults, the light bulb shut off abruptly, no forewarning flickers or anything. The dead bulb reflected an image of a black-and-white ventriloquist dummy standing on a rickety stool with his segmented fingers clinging hopelessly to the clear, round item.

The puppet, in all of his broken, disheveled glory, held a desperation that could only be seen in his movements and mannerisms, for the yellow-and-pink glasses over his eyes hid most of his sentiment. Behind him, there were paint cans and open cardboard boxes alongside a hastily-painted brick wall of sky and sun. He continued to present the successful salesman facade all the while frenzied by the death of a light bulb he’s owned since his decline.

WHY.

[Y]!!!

[‘Why, Oh, Why’] WON’T YOU WORK WITH ME!!! YOU ARE JUST LIKE [the Rest of Them], YOU LITTLE [$IX$]. I NEED. THE [[Light.]]” He croaked out the last line before his glasses glazed over with static, the better version of himself revealing through the corrupted data.

“Please... it’s so dark...”

His chaotic pleadings were cut short when the sound of a crash broke the external world’s ambiance. The noise was unlike anything he’s heard before, almost like it was a disturbing mixture of an explosion and a car wreck.

That doesn’t sound right; no cars have been around here since the roller coaster was constructed. He shook off his pathetic scene. Then, he pushed up his glasses, patted down the wrinkles in his jacket, and slicked back his greasy, dandruff-ridden mullet. If he’s going to perish to some unknown entity, he’d best do it with the little dignity he has left. Jumping off the stool, the call of curiosity and poor impulses led him to his shop door.

With a small push, he opened his storefront.

Outside, there was no creature waiting to pounce or any bomb in the shape of a dog. The only thing there was the standard broken entrance to this part of the dump; nothing appeared to be out of place.

Or so he thought. Past the destroyed opening, there was a limp body laid atop a throne of trash bags. He recognized the body to be of Light World origin because of a singular floating item on top of them, recalling the same appearance of heart-shaped objects that scorned his ads and sales pitches so many times before. A Lightner’s SOUL.

This one gravitating over the stranger’s remains was on the brink of shattering. He could easily snatch it, for it was so weak that the common color vibrancy was dulled to a shade of grey with cracks engulfing it. Such an act would be too cruel though--even a wretched guy like him had a capacity for kindness.

He scampered to see the almost-corpse up close, tripping over his stubby legs most of the way. Why he rushed to their side was quickly revealed as he pulled out a Pipis, an object that was either an egg, a clam, or a can of soda, and cracked it open. Erupting from the contents was a miniature angel sprite of the puppet himself.

*/// cast PipisHeal.

The winged version of himself fluttered around his hair, tousling the once-smooth texture into a tangled mess fit for his person. “YOU [[8-bit]][Gnat]!!! I NEED yOU- NEED YUO- N EED YOU T0 PROVIDE [Direct Primary Care] TO THIS [Half-pr1ce][[Sponge!]]!!! NOW [[Hit the road]]!!!”

He smacked it towards the unfortunate victim where it immediately started healing the dying SOUL. “IF THIS NEW PLAN GOES THE WAY I [[Hopes and Dreams]], THEN I’LL BE SO

I’LL BE SO

I’LL BE S0 !!1!1!”

His dialogue went nowhere. He vibrated in anticipation with his jaw working in tandem, the fragmented parts of his face becoming even more twisted with glitches and other inconceivable horrors. In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t be so blatant; a construction worker could be around the region. With this in mind, the dummy salesman only lightly clicked his teeth together, and during his wait, he glanced over the Lightner.

“THEY [Got Some Nice Digs] FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS [[Evicted From Heaven]] AND PLUNGED INTO [A H3aping Pile Of] GARBAGE.” His unconscious customer wore clothing of expensive taste, the fit reminding him of a certain cafe associate who was one of the killers of his high-class life. Despite the differences in colors and armor placement, his nostalgic bitterness overtook his initial scheme.

“ACTUALLY. DOn’T FULLY [[Repair the Broken ITEM]] JUST YET; WE HAVEN ‘ T GOTTEN TH3M TO AGREE TO A [Payment Plan]!!! I WILL NOT PROVIDE [Free Cable Services] [[Willy Nilly]] JUST BECAUSE OF MY [[Bleeding Heart]]!!!"

"LOOK,” he pointed to a large green battery with the name “Gamer Fuel” in their pocket, “THIS COULD [Press F1 For] HELP WITH THE [[LIGHT]]. BRING IT.”

A professional’s gotta look presentable, he justified to himself, and this could be a good replacement energy source for his light bulb. Amid his payment, his client rustled from their near-eternal slumber, urging him to conclude his sprite’s work and leave before he got caught.

“HURRY, [LITTEL] SPAMLET. THE LI GhtNER WILL [Wake Up And Smell The Roses] AT ANY MOMENT, “ he snapped under his breath, swiftly calling off the digital sprite and scurrying back to his shop before his client caught whiff of the e_mail guy’s scam and offkey smell.

*(You followed mourning shadows to the end of the road. The neon lights that once left a glittering trail to the shop were now dead.)

*(You told the dark that he healed you when he could have taken your SOUL easily. There was an uncomfortable silence.)

*(A yellow shape in the multicolored darkness spoke first.)

*You know, Y/N...

*He was... Like the rest of us.

*Just... a little unlucky.

*For some reason, his products never seemed to hit...

*... and the Lightners never even looked his way.

*... Poor guy.

Little by little, your consciousness returned to you. Your emerging thoughts were muddled with a voice unlike your own; their sorrow squeezed the back of your throat and pierced your eyes. Almost in an instant, your mind immediately erased the misdirected anguish and replaced it with another issue.

You remembered that you hadn't eaten yet, and your stomach twisted itself in panic. Because of the combined pain in your body and the obnoxious lights, your brain and heart hammered together, similar to button smashing game controls. Those were good indicators that you were alive. Swaying, your body lifted itself from the pile.

You swiped away the trash littered on you and painfully climbed down the throne of trash bags. As you scaled the slope, the surrounding objects caught your eye. Finally setting your feet on the ground, you focused on particular details.

There were neon signs that pointed away from the city. In the shadows, you saw that the trail led to a dead-end with an entrance at the side of the wooden structure beside you. Not wanting to waste your second chance at living, you limped away from the ominous area although it felt like you were missing something.

Continuing, there was a little red nub poking out from the ground. As you approached it, the bump frantically spun around, and this caused you to let out a yelp, frightening it more.

"Sorry! Nubert isn't used to Lightners sneaking up on Nubert." He-- you wondered if the creature went by he-- cautiously extended his tiny head towards you. "But, sayyy… Nubert has advice for you.” Although he was the height of your ankle and you could easily punt him, you leaned in with mutual suspicion.

"Nubert thinks you should watch out in this city. Too many Darkners would want to harm a Lightner like you!" You gave Nubert an unamused glare before realizing that he wasn't trying to make a threatening introduction. Darkners? Lightners? Your face shriveled in on itself. Never mind the confusing terminology, if there were people who wanted to hurt you, you were done for. You were still injured from the fall, and you didn’t have any armor on-

Wait. Hold on.

You glanced down, but before you properly examined your clothing, Nubert interrupted with a bouncy reply, "Nubert's sorry that Nubert couldn't help more than that! OH! What if Nubert gave you his treasure? Nubert has no idea what’s in it, but Nubert thinks it might be helpful!" He plunked into the ground, leaving a little indent of concrete and dirt in his place.

A few seconds later, he sprouted up again and declared in a muffled voice, "Nubert’s box is now yours! Maybe you need it more than me."

On his squished face laid a red, Nubert-sized chest with a golden hinge. "You would give this to a stranger? That's... kind of you, Nubert.” The rate at which you and Nubert came to trust each other nearly gave you whiplash, but in a frantic situation like yours, it would be best to hold any criticisms on your part.

With this in mind, you opened your arms and placed your hands under the bottom, making sure to lift with your legs and not your injured back. Then, while you opened the box’s lid, the small being comically explained how he came across a site where some fancy Darkners were building a weird contraption, and he saw one of the workers place down the chest.

“Yeah, Nubert saw them test a forcefield, too! If Nubert had remained any sooner, Nubert could’ve been stuck with the box for a WHILE!” Confusion ran through your mind. There was only a red scarf in the contents of the case, and someone thought to hide it behind a forcefield? What was so special…or dangerous about this item? Flipping the clothing around, there were bits of static and energy pulsing through the fibers.

“Nubert… It is safe for me to wear this, right?” It seems… strange to say the least. You tossed it in your palms some more. Dying by a magical scarf was not how you wanted to go, especially after surviving a thousand-foot fall.

“UHHH. To be honest, Nubert has no idea! Though, you could put it on Nubert to check; it’s a sacrifice Nubert is willing to make for his new friend!!!”

You were stubborn in rejecting the irrational idea. Provided that you had just met and he was your only ally at the moment, harming the little guy was not part of your still-growing survival plan.

What was once an action built from genuine regard for him soon evolved into an effort to not strangle the creature yourself. Nubert nudged your leg and repeated “come on” at least a hundred times until you placed the fabric around his neck/body after a minute of the torture. It was almost frightening how your hands wrapped it with no hesitation. Following your not-so-subtle agitation, Nubert silently bounced while you two waited. And waited. And waited-

“Yeah, it’s safe, Nubert.”

“Yeah, it’s safe, Lightner!”

Simultaneously, he threw the scarf at you with a swift movement, and you caught it around your own neck. He vibrated in relief as you tugged at the uncomfortable microfiber cloth; a twinge of regret flashed through your mind due to the scarf’s electrical charges. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to do about it now unless you wanted your and Nubert’s trouble to be all for naught.

He chortled out, “Well, Lightner, hope you take care! Nubert’s going to discard this box and check on the forcefield’s progress!!!” You nodded and carried the chest over to Nubert, where he took the container and plopped into the ground for the last time. What a great guy, if a bit trying.

*FiberScarf was added to your WEAPONS.

Now that you mostly understood the gravity of your situation and the technicalities of existing in this world, you covered yourself with the harsh fabric and walked about the road, trying to figure out your next step in staying alive.

Although that was your plan at first, you noticed a doorframe near you. The opening didn’t have any contents in it, reminding you of the lab’s entrance but with a thinner outline instead. Furthermore, the wooden structure didn't peek from behind either; this revelation disturbed you as much as the lab doors did. Curious to see if the doorway’s behavior was the same, you nearly stuck your hand in the lone frame until a sound woke you from your thoughts.

Clink, clank, CRASH!

At the dead-end far from you, you heard the sound of glass shatter and distorted laughter followed by yells, the vocals reminding you of a stereotypical car salesman.

“[$IX$] [#&%!] GODDAMN IT-!”

That was the opposite of what he wanted! His idea to use the Lightner’s battery for his purposes backfired on an irreparable level. A few long wires sizzled beside one end of the battery with another charred few hanging off the lightbulb.

Provided that the light bulb swayed from the electric line like usual, the distinction this time was that it wouldn’t light up ever again. Now nothing but a shattered remnant, the clear orb’s pieces mocked him with barely-lit mirrors of him in every shatter. He gathered each part in his palms, not paying any mind to the already-abundant scrapes on his ceramic fingertips.

Then, kneeling with the bundle of bits in his hand, he started deciding his next move. Light bulbs in the Dark World weren’t too expensive thankfully, but adding the cost of duct tape and wires stretched his already-low funds...

“[Loud Sigh] MAYBE… No. MY [[Operation Running on Shoestrings]] WILL HAVE TO [New Relocation Site] FOR NOW. AT LEAST UNTIL-”

Knock, knock, knock. A shaky voice reached through, “Hello...? Is someone there?? I heard something break; are you okay in there???” More knocks. “Anyone?”

For a second, the creature of blended material stiffened. Sweat dripped down his ceramic, sharp nose, his polyester torso lurched, and his once-white, synthetic-cotton pants remained bent around the shop floor’s grime.

Unlike his uncorrupt counterparts, his domain didn’t have a beautifully arranged stock of products or any coherent neon ads or even a shopkeeper with a non-creepy smile and teacup pose. This was all that endured.

Nevertheless, he picked himself up from the revolting ground, dropping the shattered pieces in his movement. The delirious man muttered to the dark, “HOhO, BUDDY. IT’$,, THE LIghT/NER. THEY GOT HERE [Quicker and Easier] THAN I HAD IN [[Mind Palace]].”

He brushed off the glass and waltzed to the door, but before he could unlock the knob, a major problem remained unsolved. How would the Lightner see in this level of darkness? He was used to the dimness in his sight: the Knight made sure of that. But that didn’t help with his client. In his and his shop’s state, they would just flee, leaving him with no sales and a still-busted light.

As if he came up with the best idea in the Dark World, the salesman scrambled to a nearby scrap of newspaper.

On it, there was an article talking about a small business owner becoming a Big Shot overnight. The terms “Big Shot” were capitalized over a black-and-white photo of an Addison Darkner with a meek smile lovingly encapsulating their radiant eyes. The Darkner was standing in front of seven more compatriots, a group of Addisons in varying shades of the newspaper’s ink linked together by various hugs and still laughter. With a completely-white mullet and a tall, non-segmented body, the business owner was shaking hands with Cyber World’s queen in front of her castle.

He looks happy.

Regardless, the wistfulness was short-lived because, in the next moment, the stubby puppet splattered white paint over the entire piece. Then, he proceeded to bend reality, warping his head to a size ten times larger and blowing a powerful breath on the torn paper. Splotches of white flew to the ground, but the newspaper was dried otherwise--the printed words of his past were no more. He broke open a blue paint can and hastily wrote with his fingertips.

You knocked several times on the grey door to no avail.

The part of you with survival instincts screamed to turn back, to continue walking to the lit buildings of this world, and to forget this dead-end existed. Neon signs with scribbles on them were probably deterrents to normal folks, but you proceeded to walk to this dump. In your peripheral, there were destroyed cars and even more trash than the pile you fell on. Your curiosity and impulsivity will be the death of you.

You shuffled your feet in wait. Laying on a pile of boxes was Nubert’s treasure chest--he did throw away the box. On one of the black cars, you saw a dealer license plate with the name “BIG SHOT AUTOS” plastered in bold font.

Soon, strange noises came through the door while you looked around. At first, you heard a whisper, then the scrape of metal and paper. If that wasn’t enough, you were nearly deafened by the sound of a leaf blower, and when you were close to knocking the door down, it opened and shut immediately, a small white hand leaving a sign on the front:

*HELLO! WE ARE TEMPORARILY MOVING!! TO A NEW OFFICE!!!

*PLEASE NOTE OUR NEW LOCATION:

At the end of the carelessly scrawled note was a set of directions to their office.

*ACROSS THE 10-LANED HIGHWAY AND NEAR THE BEGINNING OF THE CYBER CITY BRIDGE

*COME

*ALONE

“Oh, uh, thank you! I-I’m glad to see that you’re doing fine!!! Maybe I’ll stop by there…? Uhh- anywaytakecare!!!” You hobbled away from the menacing trash area, taking a mental note of the grey door’s sign and the void-filled doorway for later. Why are there doors in a disposal area anyway??? You wondered out loud as you rushed past the ominous door again.

Several life-fearing strides later, you reached the first fork in the opening to the bright and loud city.

The route in front of you pointed to a sign that said: WELCOME TO THE CITY. A path to your left headed to balloons, boxes, and stands of amusement park equipment. You chose the latter, seeing as Nubert warned you about coming across other Darkners, and going straight into a crowded city may not be the brightest idea. Hopefully, this route would be better.

The amusement park road contained a few pink cones, and as you walked by them, the cones yipped and scampered to block the original area... Seeing pink dogs in the shapes of traffic cones was not the weirdest phenomenon of the day. Regardless, there was no way back.

[Here have a doodle bc ur epic]

(End Notes:

Anywho, I post on my Twitter regularly with updates on future works, my art, or my incoherent headcanon rambles! I hope I see y'all there and I love y'all!

Follow my Twitter for more shenanigans! @ GreedyPolygon )

#spamton #spamvember #deltarune #spamton x reader #swatch #swatchlings #addisons #deltarune fanfic #ibispaintx #medibang

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can i request reader x Blue Addison where the reader comforts Blue who feels guilty for abandoning Spamton and not being there for him when things went wrong?

"I was just..a minute too late. H-Had I been there sooner, I could've-"

"Don't blame yourself. You didn't expect that to happen to him at all." You set a gentle hand on Blue's shoulder, frowning as you saw their eyes were wide open.

It was a quirk the Addisons shared, something they didn't normally do unless they were feeling strong emotions or got adblocks shoved in their faces.

But in this case, the one drinking beside you was strongly upset.

After you and the gang defeated Spamton, you alone returned to the city, surprised to find none of the Addisons at their shops. Instead they were gathered together at the trash zone, finally telling their side of the story.

Word must've got out about your battle with him, though you weren't exactly sure what they hoped to find by coming there.

Blue was the most distraught, so you invited them to the bar. Just to talk without them feeling pressured to sell you shoes or whatever. You knew there was more to their lives than just their intended purpose.

It turns out abandoning Spamton hit them hardest. And they couldn't stop thinking about it since that day he got evicted. They tried forgetting it for business sake, going along with the others to avoid conflict.

But...from the way their shoulders shook, it wasn't easy to simply "forget". You couldn't imagine their guilt.

Considering they found his old telephone dangling by the receiver, playing that "garbage noise" that seemed to make Darkners go mad, you could tell it especially distressed them.

Even now they completely broke down despite telling you this same exact story at the trash zone. Then again, they were drunk and the most emotional out of all of the Addisons, but at least they opened their heart to you instead of shoving a product in your face as a diversion.

"W-We..We were complete jerks to him." Blue choked as they downed their drink. "And only I care! Pink..just..tells me to shut up and sell the dumb shoes. But what's it gonna fix between Spammy and us?! NOTHING!!"

Before they could smash the empty glass, you reached up to grab their wrist, taking it from them. And they looked to you with teary eyes, their brief burst of rage subsiding.

"I'm sorrrry, Lightner. I shouldn't be acting like this in front of you. "W-We're Addisons..all we do is advertise!" That's what we're meant to be, right? Not some...idiots who abandoned their friend outta pettiness." They laid their head on the table. "You don't need our sob stories.."

"Blue, you're more than just programs to me." You reassured, patting them on the back. "You deserve to be heard. If I can be honest, checking on him was the mature thing to do. You could've been petty enough to not bother. But in your heart you still cared about him. I'm sure you all do, even if the others don't show it."

Fortunately, they calmed down and just nodded. They could ramble to you about this all night. But you didn't need that.

It shouldn't be your burden to bear...you've done enough by cleaning up Spamton's mess.

"How about we call a cab and I make sure you get home safely?"

They wanted to say something, but they let out a drunken hiccup. You took that as a yes and called the taxi.

Maybe you should've kept an eye on how many drinks they had. But they were at least able to get up with you and leave without needing much support.

You just hoped this would be the last time they drank for sad reasons.

#clanask #anonymous #deltarune x reader #addisons x reader #blue addison x reader #addison x reader #hurt/comfort

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humunanunga · 3 years

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(Last edited 10/26/2021) More Addison headcanons based on canon details: it's still unclear whether every instance of the blue, pink or orange vendors are the same three people, yellow notwithstanding; but if all instances of the pink one are the same person, it paints an interesting picture. They sell rings and address Noelle as angel. In the Snowgrave Route, Spamton also sells you a ring and addresses her as angel. And the Thorn Ring is only available after the Freeze Ring's seller is... out of the way. Spamton's arc and the Snowgrave Route both seem to be characterized as "no pain, no gain." And the pink Addison, who successfully sells a whole variety of wares to Kris's whole party, even while they're split up, their post-Neo lines are the ones that express the most envy over Spamton's success.

So this is where I take that and come up with headcanons. The pink Addison strikes me as a "lift yourself by your bootstraps" kinda person, so they probably thought up until then that Spamton's poor sales were some fault of his own, like he just wasn't trying hard enough. The Addisons were all the kind of coworkers who would drink together after work not because they were as close with each other as they might’ve thought, but because they were more like a petty high school clique together than business associates. It took no time at all to drive them nuts when Spamton caught the kind of lucky break they could only dream of, but the pink one especially held a grudge. It wasn't fair that they weren't the one rewarded for all their hard work. How dare Spamton, of all people, make them feel so insecure. And because the Addisons are a clique, one’s grudge is everyone’s grudge, or else they’ll have another civil war amongst themselves.

Going back to this, meanwhile, Spamton already struggled heavily with identity. He already felt like the odd one out, and it didn’t help that he struggled so much with his job before this, leaving him to wonder if the problem was always him. So he thought this would be his chance to reinvent himself as someone... more lovable. Someone more like... like Swatch, maybe. They made him feel gender, at least, so that was one step closer to feeling more like he found himself. But as Spamton changed his hair, his style, the other Addisons took that personally too, egged on by the pink one. They saw it as Spamton trying to set himself apart from them. Like he was rubbing it in how much better than them he is now.

...Spamton still internalizes a lot of Pink's constant "no pain no gain" advice from the old days, though. Losing his relationships with the other Addisons seemed to affirm it, after all, not to mention anything else that could've happened to make him so dependent and unstable now... yeah, actually, with or without Spamton’s agent throwing him under the bus, the drama with the Addisons could’ve really done him in too if their personal drama escalated into full-blown bullying for a while, especially if it got bad enough that he had to be the one to cut contact with them. It could be another reason he ignored the phone in his shop. He could also be afraid that one of them found his number.

...I don't think it got as far as that, though. I think my headcanon is that it got to a point where anything Spamton said to defend himself just egged them on until one of the other Addisons just had it with him, and one by one, the rest were discouraged from keeping contact with him. It just stirred up too much drama. By the time everyone cooled down, they didn't know how to pick up where they left off, and it's too late to dig up the past anyway. So they just kept avoiding the subject...

#edited cuz i decided i'm meh about spam and pink being messy exes #addisons #spamton #deltarune #utdr theory #no mercy #proceed route #headcanon #musings

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chao-writes-stuff · 3 years

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DELTARUNE SPOILERS

Heyyy! I wrote a thing involving Jevil and the Chapter 2 Superboss! I'm going to put it under the cut, but at the end, there will also be an Ao3 link if you wanna support me there!

Thank you! Remember to Reblog if you wanna

The Lightner Trio walked down the stairs in the Queen's massive manor, their hurried footsteps echoing like a rough pitter-patter in the technological nightmare. The massive lair confused and bamboozled them, but they definitely wanted to figure out the mystery behind what the Fountains were about, what Queen's true intentions were… and what was in the basement?

"Uhh… Kris?" Ralsei asked, his soft voice echoing out. "Why are we even here? Aren't Queen, Noelle, and Berdly upstairs? And not here…?"

Susie quickly interrupted him, punching his arm lightly to get his attention. "Of COURSE they aren't here. But whatever is here is probably important. Right, Kris?"

"I guess!" The currently blue human replied. "I've been asked by some… guy, about doing these weird favors for him. He really wants me to be alone."

"We sure he ain't a p-" Before Susie could finish her thought, Ralsei muffled her mouth with his scarf. "Who is he? And why does he want you to be alone?"

"His name is Spamton, I think. I don't know much about him, but he gave me this Loaded Disk earlier, and--"

Suddenly, a strange, chaotic voice rang out. Everyone recognized it. The tail attached to Ralsei's cloak popped off, diamonds and hearts flying out with it. The tail spun and took form, and the chaotic Jester they quite literally put to rest yesterday was reawakened.

"Spamton? SPAMTON? The same Spamton who wished for me to go, to go, and be free, free?" Jevil laughed chaotically, with Ralsei caught quite off guard. "You know him?"

"That dorito chip was part of the reason why I was set free, he was! He used to rule this world, before the Queen I've been hearing oh so much about took over. Oh, I MUST know more of how you met that ridiculous lunatic! And that's coming from ME, ME! Spamton, oh Spamton, I'd like to have a word with him~!" Jevil looked quite pissed off, his normally jovial expression looking slightly stern.

"I didn't wanna go down there anyway. Just come back, okay? You're kind of carrying us with your defense boost." Kris, with a neutral expression, gave the clown the disk they were gifted by the malignant salesman, and watched as Jevil immediately sprinted off into the basement. They could hear an echoed "Buh bye~! I'll be back in a few hundred words!" As the jester descended into the decrepit basement below...

Jevil entered the musty, rotting cellar. Despite him rarely stepping on the ground, each step he did take left a haunting impact on his feet. It was silent, save for the occasional rustling of his clothes. He didn't have long to do this. His physical form only had a few hours to be out and about before he solidified, just like the young boy and the puzzle freak. Thankfully, that's all he needed. He was getting excited, almost giddy, to interact once more with his old acquaintance. Oh, what a wonderful conversation they'd have!

He didn't walk for too much longer before he found the train station that was buried deep below. Or was it a roller coaster? Whoever had this built clearly had some elaborate roundabout in mind… too bad they were still imprisoned, haha! Jevil walked and floated across the tracks, reaching a room with a decaying robot inside.

He knew this was a bad idea. But when did he ever have good ideas?

Without hesitating, the joker put the disk into the robot. At first, nothing happened, and he was getting impatient VERY quick. He gave the robot a swift kick in the lower area, before stepping back out of the room.

Step…

SLAM! The clown was admittedly caught off guard with how fast the silhouette from above came and pushed him onto his knees. With a small gasp for air, Jevil looked up slowly at the encroaching menace. The jagged movements, the glitchy, unsolidified form… this was him alright.

"KRIS… MY LOYAL [Sponge!] THANK… YOU. THE [Clown Around Town!] I REMEMBER YOUR [Disgusting] FACE. EVERYONE WAS SO [Thrilled] TO SEE YOUR [Calcified] FACE." The massive robotic behemoth loomed over Jevil, rage in his glasses. Spamton NEO.

The clown got up, a smug, shitfaced expression on his mug. He knew damn well that the dorito in front of him was pissed off, so he leaned back in the air to retort. "At least I drink plenty of milk, uee hee hee! As for you, you haven't changed one bit since we last spoke~! Or would it be a byte, a byte? Regardless, I do hope you've given up on the illusion of freedom, freedom~! The only one who can be free is MEEE!"

The robotic menace swung around to the other side of Jevil, making it very clear who was in charge of the conversation. A small concentrated blast of Pipis was fired at the jester, pushing him back with a surprising amount of force. "YOU ACT SMUG, BUT YOU [Crashed our stocks!] AND THEN YOU [Spoiled relations with our Esteemed Partners!] I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU… GOT IN HERE, YOU… [Tuna Fish,] BUT I'M NOT FALLING FOR YOUR [Roundabout!] AGAIN!"

Jevil laughed maniacally at this thought. This guy was mad! Over something that happened how long ago? Why even bother holding a grudge still? Petty, petty! He knew why, and it's why he came back too. "You influenced him. That pretty little kitty. You gave him enough funds to release me into that carousel of bliss and innocence! But I wasn't done, not one bit! And all those years, spent being free… they made me realize something, my dearest Spamton."

The oddly calm tone coming from the jester put Spamton NEO at an incredible amount of unease. "WHAT? WHAT COULD YOUR [Calcified Lump] THINK OF THAT WOULD MEAN ANY GODDAMN THING TO ME?"

"I CAN DO ANYTHING!"

The joker used his latent power to pelt the giant mecha with small white hearts. Spamton was caught off-guard, stumbling back a fair amount. Of course, you have to fight fire with fire, so the robot used his abilities to send out a Big Shot of blue Spamton Head Pipis.

"YOU [Saturated Marketshare!] YOU CAN'T SIMPLY ATTACK ME AND EXPECT IT TO WORK [As seen on TV!] I'M A [BIG SHOT!] [BIG SHOT!!!]"

Jevil hopped up onto the ceiling, clearing the first few Pipis on the lower row heading his way. Unfortunately, the higher row caught him clean in the face as he bounced between the two, making a small Jack-in-the-box melody as he pinged around.

"SPAMTON, MY BELOATHED! I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND, UNDERSTAND, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE TRAPPED IN A CAGE WITH A SHARK, A SHARK! YOU GET BITTEN AND CHEWED UP!"

The fool retaliated by running circles around Spamton, turning into a carousel of horse bullets! The robot, in a surprising feat of puppeteering, dodged the attack almost perfectly… until a stray horsie cut a string, sending the mech's right arm into the horse race. One thing about arms with cannons on them? They fire.

As soon as it happened, Jevil was face to face with a swarm of Pipis all around him. He was stuck. All of them exploded brilliantly, sending the clown flying clean across the rotting tracks and into the wall. Tauntingly, mockingly even, Spamton NEO retorted.

"I'M THE SHARK NOW, JEVIL! I'VE CHEWED UP SO MANY [Failed Buisness Partners] THAT I COULD MAKE A WHOLE [Presentation] OUT OF THEM! STAY OUT OF MY GODDAMN WAY, OR [Sparkle like new!] YOU BRAT."

The buisnessman charged at Jevil, his hands becoming phones. "IT'S FOR YOU." Suddenly, before either of them could react, loud blasts of garbage noise manifest expelled from the phones, attacking the court jester with white blasts of energy. There was nothing he could do to stop this robot's onslaught, it looked like.

"OH SPAMTON, IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK? THAT YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S SO POWERFUL RIGHT NOW, NOW? I'D SUGGEST YOU LOOK UP, UP! YOU'RE NOTHING WITHOUT THOSE STRINGS IMPRISONING YOU, UEE HEE HEE! YOU'RE NOT A BIG SHOT, YOU'RE JUST A LAZY FRAUD WHO CAN'T STOP HANGING ON TO HIM! I GUESS SLEEPING FOR 100 YEARS DOESN'T MAKE LITTLE OLD ME MISS MUCH, RIGHT?"

Without warning, Jevil was myseriously gone from his corner. The spamware looked frantically for his target, before being struck in the arm, the leg, and the chest by scythes. Devilsknives. The last knive cut a few strings clean off the puppet, who briefly hit the ground before rising back up.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! [Hyperlink Blocked.] I'M STILL HIS LOYAL ASSOCIATE! HE MAY NOT HAVE TALKED TO ME IN [Employee of The Month for 144 months!] BUT HE'S STILL THERE…"

Jevil interrupted him cleanly and concisely. "FACE IT. YOU'RE NO BIG SHOT ANYMORE, SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. ALL YOU ARE IS A FAILED INVESTMENT, UEE HEE HEE!"

With those words, a purple blast came from behind the clown, striking the robot right in the noggin. He flew back a bit, giving the joker enough time to turn around to meet his esteemed guests.

"Ah, my imprisoners~! Didn't you guys have a Queen to rock-em sock-em?"

Susie immediately cut him off, as she punched him in the arm (causing his head to spring up, naturally.) "Well, Kris over here couldn't shake the feeling things were off. So they forced us down here, and now they're right. Somehow?"

"I know I'm right.. Jevil, who the hell is Spamton?" Kris replied, their worry about the situation starting to rise.

"It's of no concern to you~! His screws were almost as loose as mine, and I don't think it's my job to tighten them~! Uee hee hee! Thank you for the help, but I can do anything~! Even tell you guys that 3 coasters are about to come down and force you guys along for the ride~!"

Ralsei immediately stuttered something out. "Three… what?"

And just like that, with a loud rumbling, the heroes were swept up into 3 old, rusty carts, barrelling down the track. Jevil laughed to himself, proud of what he got to do. "Ah well, it's a shame I can't finish him personally…"

"But oh well! Are you proud, proud? They took care of him…"

"Doctor."

Ao3 Link!

#Deltarune #Deltarune Spoilers #Deltarune Chapter 2 #Jevil #spamton #kris #ralsei #susie #undertale #okay cool thank you byyyyeeeee

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spam-1997 · 3 years

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@sanguinehaven sent: ‘ Cerise grins at Spamton, reaching to pat his head. *Glad you're joining us this week. Hope you're ready~ They say as they playfully ruffle his hair. They're dressed semi-casually, clean black ankle length skirt, warm autumn brown jacket. Simple, neat. Leading him through the streets of castle town, eventually they make their way to the familiar looking bar, pushing the doors open for him and leading him to the side room where the main event is. Pretty much infinite alcohol, infinite food, card games, music. Well, wasn't this a big change? He will spot pretty much everyone from the hotpot they had on Christmas, the main addisons, Spachiel, Spammy, Spamt. There's another guest too, Birdy. Enjoy yourself, immerse yourself in the high energy of the room, the merriment, the celebrations. You're welcomed here, you're wanted, but try not to drink too much, we still want you to get back to their place safely after tonight. Happy new years~ ‘

⇨ “ * wWAI T ! ANYTHING BUT THE [ merchandise ] ! ” Despite how he panics and fixes back his recently re-slicked hair that he gave entirely too much attention to for his night out, he does so half laughing, half poking fun at himself. He’s got somewhere to wear that new warm clothes he’s got, and where they’re going is... odd. He’s actually never seen the other fountain town- its so fascinatingly... rustic. Vintage?

Even still, the inside of the bar was no less lively than his memories in the city. If anything-- maybe even a little moreso with all the hims running around. You’d think his anxiety would make him quieter, but that’s simply never how he’s been known to function, funny enough. The moment they’re within sight of everyone he throws open his arms and shouts to announce their entrance. “ * HEY HEY EVERY [ Should old acquaintance be forgot ! ] GUESS WHO !!! HA3HAEHAeHAE !!! ”

In the palace, that kind of entrance garnered... a less favorable response, but here? Oh here, he doubted they expect anything less. That really was... nice, that, wasn’t it? There was a reason he never made any friends at those grand balls. But look around! What’s here, but a bunch of misfit toys? And though his avarice may just be something buried deep in his design, he must admit... he’d take it over another night alone in a crowd under a chandelier any day,

He’s going to run up and greet everyone now. Kinda like a friendly dog that noticed they all came in after a long day at work. And try his very best not to get plastered at the request of his friend, of course. Maybe he forgets his smaller size, but he tends to do it purely on accident. Like he used to since they’ve gone out together. Some things never change.

#sanguinehaven #$$$ ⇨ IN THE NEED FOR [Hyperlink Blocked] ! || i.c.#$$$ ⇨ Check your [ Spam Mail ] ! || ask.

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missarchivistdoodles · 3 years

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Chapter Five: [[ROCK BOTTOM BARGAINS]]

First Chapter

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

AO3 Link

“Swatch! Swatchy. Swatch-am, my main program!” Spamton leaned across the bar, clearly not drunk enough to be calling the bartender such nicknames. Which meant he was after something. “How long have we been friends?”

Swatch raised a brow. “Are we friends?”

“[[TWITTER!!!]]” Spamton clutched at his chest, absolutely scandalized.

The bartender lifted a wing to hide their snickers, thoroughly enjoying the salesman’s faux outrage. He’d always been easy to rile up in a playfully, friendly way, and Spamton knew it. He played into it, making others laugh as he fake-fumed about the silliest things, only to turn them into even more ridiculous arguments. He was just a fun guy to be around.

“I most sincerely apologize, Master Spamton.” Swatch did not sound sorry in the slightest. “Let’s see, you moved here in the spring of 1997, and it is now the spring of 2000. That would make our friendship three years old.”

“Correct-a-Mundo, chum!” All faux outrage gone, Spamton leaned on the bar and gave his friend a very concerned look. “And in those three years, I’ve never seen you take a night off!”

Swatch paused, a smile on their beak as they set down the rag they’d been wiping the bar off with. “Why that’s preposterous, I’m sure I’ve taken a day off in the past few…months?” They scratched at the feathers on the back of their neck. “No wait, we’ve been busy, what with the casino opening up down the way. What about - no, I worked all the holidays this past fall, so the Swatchlings could have off…”

Speaking of Swatchlings, there were now a dozen or so standing in the closed cafe, all shuffling nervously and elbowing each other gently in the side. Most of the brood should have retired by now, just what was going on? They looked at Spamton, who had his confident ‘I’m going to get what I want out of this argument and you don’t stand a chance’ salesman grin on.

“What is going on?”

“Right, this is an intervention!” Spamton motioned for the Swatchlings to come closer, and they did, huddling behind him and facing their boss (and eldest sibling). “You,” he pointed dramatically at Swatch, “need to take a break.”

Swatch blinked, looking over at their brood, who all wore matching expressions of concern and trepidation. “I take plenty of breaks,” they protested. “Every night when I go home, I take time to myself.”

“Yeah, no. That doesn’t count.” Spamton shook a finger at the bird. “We’re talking about a real break! A twenty-four-hour or more stretch of having no responsibilities! Doesn’t Queen give you vacation time?”

“Of course, it’s in my contract.” Swatch immediately answered, thinking back to the paper tucked in the family safe at home, alongside all the Swatchling’s contracts. While the Queen had become less…stable the past few years, it did not mean she did not care for her subjects or employees. “She simply does not require me to use them.”

Spamton smacked himself in the face, letting out a pained groan, and the Swatchlings chattered anxiously between themselves.

“Swatch,” Crimson stepped forward (pushed slightly by his brothers), “We are worried for you,” He wrung his wings in front of him, looking anywhere but at the eldest bird. “We all take breaks,” he motioned to his brood, “we take two days off a week, but you do not!”

“You are tired all the time,” Sunny piped up, dancing from foot to foot. “You do not sleep enough, and drink far too much coffee!” There was a murmur of agreement from the other birds.

Teal, the eldest of the brood, stepped forward to stand beside Crimson. “You have not crafted anything in so long. Not since Neo.”

Swatch stiffened, their eyes widening behind their glasses. They hadn’t thought of Neo in so long. It seemed like ages had passed since then, but it had only been…five years? Maybe six? They had loved building it, had thrown their whole SOUL into creating it, before the lightner had left. Then Queen had offered them the job of head butler and, well, there just hadn’t been time to create. Not since then.

“I appreciate your concern,” Swatch cleared their throat, “But I am the head butler, and I have responsibilities to Queen.”

“Nope.” Spamton gleefully smacked a paper down on the bar top. It was an official decree, with circuit board filigree around the side, text written in the Queen’s signature type. The Swatchlings were grinning now too, some hiding it behind their wings, others out and proud about whatever they had managed to pull.

Swatch picked up the paper and read it aloud. “Swatch Honey Sweetie Gravy Pie,” it began, and a round of titters echoed through the room, “You Are Supposed To Be Taking A Day Off Each Week. If You Don’t Use Your Vacation Days I Have To Pay You Extra! To Make Up For The Backlog of Vacation Days, You Must Now Take Each Wednesday And Thursday Off. Love Kisses Winky Face Queen.”

Spamton was trying to disguise his snickering as coughing when Swatch lowered the paper. He straightened up, grinning at the butler, as were the brood. “See? It’s all taken care of! And since tonight is Tuesday, you have tomorrow and Thursday off to rest, relax, and do…whatever it is butlers and barkeeps do when they’re not working!”

“Read,” Crimson immediately answered, ticking things off on his long, feathery fingers. “Bake, draw, paint, design clothing, sew clothing, wear clothing…”

“I would hope so,” Spamton whispered to Swatch with a wink. The flustered bird didn’t answer, too caught up in the idea of having a day off. No, TWO days off.

What was he going to do with it?

“Wait, I thought you said this was an intervention?” They pointed to the paper. “If you’ve already gotten me the days off, why all this?”

Spamton and Crimson shrugged in tandem (and Swatch immediately knew it was them who had put this whole thing together). “We thought it would take a bit to convince you to USE the days off, [[TWITTER]].”

“You can be awfully stubborn, boss.” Crimson confirmed.

Swatch scratched at his beak, worries already sprouting in his mind. “But if I am not here, who will serve the queen during the day? And barkeep in the evening?”

Teal inclined his head. “I will be the head butler when you are out,” he explained, “and Crimson is quite capable of bartending.”

Crimson beamed, throwing an arm around Spamton’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze. “Spamton has been training me during the lunch shift!” He declared.

Swatch raised a brow at the innocent looking salesman, who suddenly wouldn’t meet their gaze, and resolved to go over proper pouring techniques and amounts with Crimson when they had the chance.

“See, everything’s taken care of!” Spamton made no move to shrug off Crimson’s arm, and the touchy-feely Swatchling made no move to remove it. “You can relax tomorrow with no worries!”

Swatch couldn’t help but smile as he looked around at his family and friend, all of whom cared so much for him. They were right - he could take the day off, he trusted them to handle everything. It would be fine.

oOo

Crimson was not only a capable barkeep, but a skilled bouncer. The third time Swatch poked his head in (having walked to the mansion from their apartment block a few streets away) that Wednesday, the Swatchling slung them over his shoulder without a word and stomped out of the cafe, muttering something about restraint. Or maybe it was restraints.

Swatch, a bit startled by the sudden pick-me-up, said nothing as Crimson toted them through the mostly-empty mansion. It was mid-day Wednesday, so most darkners were at work or in their quarters at this time, leaving the hallways empty. It wasn’t until Crimson started up to the second floor that they realized they weren’t heading for the servants' entrance out back, but instead the living quarters for those who resided in the mansion.

“Wait, you aren’t-'' Before they could get the rest of the protest out, Crimson was knocking on an ornate wooden door. There was a rustle of papers and the clang of a phone being hung up, then rushed steps as whoever it was (and Swatch had a sinking feeling they knew) ran to answer.

“Oh, hey [[RED HOT]], what’cha got there?” There was a pause, then glee took over Spamton’s voice. “Awww, [[TWITTER]]! You don’t need valet service to come see me!” Spamton stepped back, allowing Crimson to bring in the flushed, embarrassed raven. “Thanks for the delivery, [[BIG BIRD]]!” Once Swatch had been gently set on his feet, Crimson exchanged a fist bump with Spamton, then quickly left the room, making sure to close the door behind him.

Spamton had obviously not been expecting company. His white hair was a mess, and he was wearing a half-open black button-down shirt and white slacks. Despite his lack of presentation, he was beaming. “Welcome to [[MI CASA]], Swatch!” He threw his arms open, motioning to the front room of his suites. Half of it was set up like a parlor - a nice couch and some plush chairs, a television hanging on the wall, coffee table covered in magazines in the middle. The other half was his office - the large desk he’d brought with him, the phone on the antique table, and boxes upon boxes of papers and odd tchotchkes.

“It certainly is…you.” Swatch admitted as he was ushered to one of the armchairs, which was plush and comfy.

“So, what has [[RED HOT]] hauling you to my neck of the woods on your first day off?” Spamton plopped down in the chair across from him, beaming.

Swatch nervously scratched at their beak. “Ah, I believe I may have…annoyed him, with my checking in.”

“I warned him you would do that,” the salesman shrugged as he pulled his legs up, folding himself like a pretzel into the chair. “Well, since you’re [[VISITING NOW]], I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course,” Swatch inclined their head. “What is on your mind?”

“[[LATE LAST NIGHT]] Teal mentioned something called Neo…?” Spamton raised a brow. “What’s that?”

Swatch allowed a fond smile to cross his beak. “Oh, Neo. That was a project I assisted a lightner in completing several years ago.” They relaxed into the chair, crossing their knees as they thought back to those wonderful days of unbridled creativity and color. “The lightner was a human with a physical disability that prevented them from walking. I assisted them in creating an avatar they could use in the digital world that would allow them not only to walk, but run, fly, dance, jump…” They tilted their head in thought. “It allowed them to feel free.”

The raven’s eyes were closed, so they didn’t see the way Spamton went stiff in his seat, the way his eyes widened at the thought.

“And - and did they? Feel free?” The salesman asked after a moment.

Swatch removed their glasses and rubbed at one of their eyes, expression falling. “No. Sadly, the lightner passed away from the disease that took their mobility before they were able to use the suit.”

“Suit?”

“Yes, it was a robotic suit, inspired by something they called a, uh, ‘gun-damn,’ I believe it was.” Swatch resettled the glasses on their beak. “It was a delight to design, the color palette was difficult but exciting to work with. The hardest part was adjusting the hand cannon…”

“Hand cannon?” Spamton squeaked.

Swatch’s smile turned wistful. “They wanted to protect people, protect others, be it from disease or bullies or whatever their world threw at them. That translated into giving the suit a weapon. Not a choice I would have made, personally, but I was merely the aesthetic engineer for their creation.”

“Can I [[SEE IT]]?” Spamton leaned forward eagerly, eyes sparkling.

“Ah, no, sorry. Once I learned of the lightner’s passing I removed Neo from my workshop. Queen was nice enough to give me space to store it in the basement.”

“We have a [[BOTTOM BASEMENT PRICING]]?”

Swatch wanted to smack themselves. “Ah, I wasn’t supposed to mention that,” he muttered tiredly. “Yes, there is a basement in the mansion, but it is a dangerous area. It is underdeveloped, unstable, and prone to glitching. Nobody is allowed down there any longer, including myself and Queen.”

“So...nobody?”

“Correct.”

“And since Neo is down there, you can’t show it to me.”

“Also correct.”

Spamton snapped his fingers. “Well, [[DAMNED IF YOU DO]]! Still, that little ramble of yours gave me an idea!” He jumped from his seat and dove into the boxes of wares piled about his desk.

“I was not rambling,” Swatch protested under their breath, folding their wings and watching the salesman trip over himself as he tried to find something in the somewhat-organized chaos. After diving into a rather beat-up box head-first, he finally rose triumphant, clutching something large and rectangular in his hands.

“Found it!” He declared, before spinning and nearly dancing back to the raven. WIth a bow, Spamton presented his treasure to the bird.

Swatch accepted the items with a bemused blink. It was a large sketchbook, unused, and an unopened box of colored pencils. They set the box of pencils in their lap and flipped through the sketchbook - not a mark on any of the textured white pages. They rested a feathered finger against the page, already seeing the possibility there.

“Spamton, I’m touched. I don’t know wha - wait.” A playful look crossed their face, though he quickly schooled it into a raised brow of doubt. “How much are you charging me for this?”

The salesman adopted a look akin to a wounded puppy made of cotton candy who’d been kicked by a grumpy raincloud. “Charge you? [[Ladies and Gentlemen]], are you hearing this?” He looked around the room, which was still empty of all but the two of them. “I’m hurt, wounded, that you would take my act of goodwill and twist it in such a way! Why, it’s as though you think I’m just a salesman and nothing more!” Spamton threw his wrist against his head, pitching backwards across the arm of Swatch’s chair, leaning heavily against the raven darkner. “Look at me! I’m going to waste away from your lack of faith in my character!”

Swatch allowed themself to be squished against the chair, their laughter deep and rich as Spamton wormed his way into laying all the way across their lap, faking his death at being misjudged. He couldn’t hide his own laughter, however, shoulder shaking as he lolled his head to the side, peeking up at Swatch through a half-closed eye. The sight of the unflappable butler dissolving into tears of laughter had the salesman breaking down as well, the two of them descending into hysterics together on the chair.

Finally - after several breathless minutes of wheezing - Swatch managed to finish what he had been saying. “Thank you, Spamton, really. This is a very thoughtful gift, and I cannot wait to use it.”

The salesman (who was happily reclining in Swatch’s lap and didn’t look like he’d be moving anytime soon) beamed, his smile so wide it scrunched up his eyes. “Glad to hear it, [[TWITTER]]. The way you lit up when you were talking about creating Neo...well, that’s not a [[FREE GIFT]] anyone should let go.” He reached up to tap on the sketchbook Swatch was still holding. “You fill up this one, you [[LET US KNOW]] and I’ll get you more.”

“Spamton, I do make enough to buy my own sketchbooks.” Swatch reminded him.

“Yeah, but will you?” There was silence, and Spamton smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Swatch was trying to come up with a good defense (they were awfully stingy when it came to themself, as their vacation days could attest), but a loud, shrill ringing interrupted their train of thought. Spamton nearly launched himself off the chair at the noise, neatly elbowing Swatch in the beak as he scrambled to the antique table sitting by his desk.

“Oh [[SHIITAKE MUSHROOMS]]!” The salesman glanced at the clock above his desk. “Gah, Swatch, I’m [[SINCERE APOLOGIES]] but I’ve gotta take this!”

Of course - just because Swatch had the day off, didn’t mean Spamton did. Feeling a bit guilty at monopolizing their friends' time, they gathered up their gift and stood. “Of course, it’s no problem at all.” They started towards the door as Spamton hovered a hand over the phone. “I will see you at the cafe tonight, Spamton. Good luck with your call.” Was it just them, or did the ringing seem to be getting louder? It gave Swatch the same vibe as an impatient customer tapping their foot while waiting to be served.

“Yeah, tonight, [[TWITTER]]!” Spamton waited until they were almost out the door to pick up the handset and bring it to his head. “Spamton Advertising Industries, you’ve reached the [[HEAD HONCHO]]! How can I help you?”

As Swatch closed the door, they heard something like static pour out of the receiver. Hm, a weak connection, poor Spamton. Hopefully, he would be able to hear his client over the garbage noise.

oOo

That night Swatch arrived at the Color Cafe as a patron, not an employee, and after arguing with Crimson for ten minutes they were able to take a seat next to Spamton’s regular spot. The red-clad Swatchling served them a Butler Juice that was decently mixed, though a little heavy on the flavored syrup. As they waited for Spamton, they pulled out their new sketchbook and the picture they had drawn.

It was of Neo, as it was when newly created. A robotic structure painted in shades of green, purple, yellow, and (mostly) pink, with a cannon for an arm and a pair of striking wings. Since the basement was off limits to everyone, Swatch had thought a picture of the invention would suffice. Spamton had seemed very curious about the robot, and the barkeep was happy to indulge that curiosity. They flipped through the next few pages, all of which contained rough sketches of various Swatchlings, one of Queen (and some of her vases), and one of Spamton himself.

They’d forgotten what it was like to draw, to create, to bring something from nothing. While they did enjoy designing and creating clothing for themselves and their brood to wear, drawing and painting had always been their true passion. The mixing of colors, the drama of shades, the complex dance of complementary and contrasting colors to create something pleasing to the eyes - it brought them joy.

Joy they had not felt since Neo.

Joy they would not be feeling now if not for Spamton.

So they waited, and when Spamton didn’t show up at his normal time they didn’t worry too much. And when Spamton didn’t arrive before closing they were a bit concerned but not overly so. And when they went to check on Spamton in his room, a serving of spaghetti code in hand to give the salesman, they were happy to find him chatting away on his phone, making notes in a thick binder on his desk.

Spamton gave him a small wave when he poked his head in, then glanced at the clock and gaped at how much time had passed. Whoever was on the phone, speaking past the static Swatch could faintly hear, said something that had the salesman jumping to write it down. An important client then, one Spamton had been discussing business with for hours. Perhaps a new client for the advertising agency? Swatch moved silently across the room, talons muffled by the plush carpet, and set the bowl on the edge of the large desk. Spamton shot him a grateful smile, then a confused one when the butler also set down a paper. He picked it up, still nodding along with whatever the person on the phone was saying, and examined the colored pencil drawing.

A sharp burst of air escaped as he realized what he was looking at - the sleek lines and beautiful colors of a robot that had never been able to fulfill its purpose. The person on the other line stopped talking, and Spamton quickly apologized and asked them to continue, though they didn’t set the drawing down. As the client resumed speaking, he met Swatch’s eyes and mouthed ‘thank you.’

Swatch nodded, nudged the bowl of spaghetti code closer, and left the room as quietly as they had entered. As they wandered down the halls towards the front of the mansion, they had to wonder.

What else could they draw to make Spamton smile like that?

oOo

Do you want to be free, Spamton?

Truly free?

Free of the Addisons and their scorn?

Free of your past failure?

Free of your need to prove yourself to those around you?

Free to speak your mind?

Free to make your own deals?

There is a way, Spamton G. Spamton.

A way for you to be free.

Forever.

oOo

The changes started slowly, they would later realize when comparing notes. Spamton no longer came to the cafe every evening for dinner. He still made regular appearances, and could be counted on to be there Friday come hell or high water, but the rest of the week was hit-or-miss, depending on whether his phone was ringing.

That was the other thing - the phone. It was ringing much more often now, and when Swatch was able to visit his friend in his rooms, it would never be long before an important client or investor would call and pull all of Spamton’s attention away from their game of chess, or their conversation on the merits of pocket squares. Swatch didn’t hold the interruptions against Spamton - it was part of being a salesman, especially the most successful one in the city. But it did begin to bother them, as the calls began to cut more and more of their time together short.

The Swatchlings noticed it as well - no longer did Spamton simply stroll the halls to greet them in the morning as they prepared the mansion for whatever activities were happening that day. Instead they would see him rushing about, papers in hand, as he left the mansion (presumably to one of his businesses), barely gracing them with a wave as he went. They were a bit disappointed, but understood - Mr. Spamton was a Big Shot, after all, and it was a good thing business was picking up.

oOo

“Good evening, sir. How may I be of service?”

“...Swatch, it’s me.”

The butler glanced up from retrieving a drink menu for the customer who had just sat down and did their best not to squawk in alarm.

“Spamton? What - what happened?”

The salesman's smile fell a bit at the comment, and he ran a hand through his hair. Earlier this morning, as he’d rushed out of the mansion on his way to work, it had been a gleaming white that caught the rays of the faux-starlight and gleamed like strands of pearls. Now, every strand was a deep ebony, reflecting the colored lights of the cafe like a curl of onyx stone.

“Does it really look that [[BAD]]?”

“No!” Swatch dropped the menu they had grabbed and rushed to reassure their friend. “No, it looks amazing, I just wasn’t expecting it. And the glasses are new, too.”

Spamton pulled the round frames from his face with a chuckle. The lenses were tinted yellow and pink, just enough to add color to his pale face. “Yeah, I’ve spent so much time squinting at spreadsheets my [[line of sight]] is going blurry. Saw Siren - y’know, the Ambyu-lance with the office down the street? He [[RECOMMENDED READING]] glasses.” He didn’t move to replace the glasses on his nose, looking a bit embarrassed by the explanation.

Swatch leaned forward and took the glasses from his fingers, gently resettling them upon his nose. “I think they look splendid, Spamton. They definitely give off a ‘Big Shot’ vibe.”

Spamton gave him a shy look, which quickly shifted into one of confidence. “Yeah, they’re kinda like yours, right? And if I can look [[half as good]] as the Queen’s butler, then what do I have to worry about?”

“Not a thing, Spamton,” Swatch ruffled his newly-dyed hair, “not a thing.”

oOo

“So, I’m worried,” Spamton began without preamble as he strode into his shop for the normal Monday-morning check in.

“About wha-wha-what the hell happened to you?” Vira, ever the tactful virovirokun, gaped at him from behind the checkout counter. AC and DC, who were stocking goods, popped out from one of the shelves and mimicked her expression.

Spamton groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “It’s just dye, people! Why can’t anybody say I’m [[LOOKING GOOD]]? Why all the [[Drama! This week only on-]]” He cut himself off before the rest of the advert could escape his mouth. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. “Look, it’s just some [[rebranding]]. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What are you worried about, boss?” AC had ditched his stalking and moved to grab one of Spamton’s hands, pulling him farther into the store.

“How can we help?” DC seized his other hand and steered them towards the front counter, where Vira had put away her work to give Spamton her full attention.

“[[RIGHT!]]” Spamton released the plugboys and slammed his hands down on the countertop. “Here’s the problem. My [[SALES]] at the office are going [[THROUGH THE ROOF]]!”

Vira gave him the kind of flat, annoyed look that only a manager who’d spent the last three years dealing with an eccentric boss could. “Sounds like the opposite of a problem, boss.”

“That’s not the problem part,” Spamton ran his hands through his hair, expression one of pure frustration. “The problem is, since that [[BUSINESS ATTIRE]] is going so well, I’ve been neglecting the store.” He motioned to the spic-n-span, fully stocked, perfectly functional store around him.

“Yes, we are obviously falling apart without your constant hovering.” Vira leaned forward, giving him an unimpressed look. “What’s really got your circuits in such a snit, boss?”

“Well, I was trying to be a bit [[dramatic]] but your sarcasm is [[ruining]] it.” Spamton finally huffed, dropping his drastic persona and pulling a sheet of paper from his jacket. “I wasn’t [[lying like a dog]], business has really picked up lately, and I just don’t have time to oversee the store any longer.”

AC and DC gasped. “You aren’t closing us down, are you?” They asked in tandem.

“[[PERISH THE THOUGHT]], my good sirs!” Spamton held the paper out to Vira. “I’m relinquishing the store to our [[tried and true]] manager!”

Vira slowly took the paper he offered - it was the deed to the storefront. “You’re giving me the store?” She asked quietly, all previous sarcasm gone.

“No, no, no, that wouldn’t be good [[business sense]]!” Spamton pulled out a second piece of paper, this one with fancy letterhead and columns of type. “No, I’m selling you this [[fine real estate]] for the [[low, low price]] of…one dark dollar.”

“...You’re fucking with me.”

“[[NOT AT ALL]] my fine friend!” Spamton allowed his salesman grin to drop into something softer, more real. “Vira, you’ve been running this store like a dream for three years. I can’t think of anybody [[BETTER DEALS]] to run this place then you.” He tapped the contract. “I had a lawyer look at it and [[EVERYTHING MUST GO]], it’s all gold, You just gotta sign and hand over that [[SWEET, SWEET DOLLA BILL]]!” Flushing, he coughed into his fist, then produced a nice pen from his suit pocket.

AC and DC rushed to the other side of the counter, throwing their short arms around Vira. “Congratulations Vira!”

“You’ll make a good Big Boss!”

Still moving slowly, like she couldn’t quite believe it was real, Vira took the pen Spamton was offering and, after a quick skim of the contract, signed her name to it. She handed the pen back so he could sign as well, and fished a single dark dollar out of the cash register. Spamton finished signing his name with a flourish, tucked his pen back in his suit pocket, and accepted the dollar she handed him.

“[[Congratulations]]!” He shook her hand with a bit more bounce than usual. “You are now the proud owner of this [[small business]].” AC and DC cheered, gently nudging the flustered virovirokun. Spamton whipped out a long wrapped box and handed it to the new owner, then moved to the nearest shelf that had glassware on it and selected a few of the wine glasses.

As Vira (who had opened the box to reveal a bottle of very, very expensive wine) protested the use of store merchandise (and was ignored), Spamton couldn’t help but feel oddly...nostalgic. Like this had somehow happened before.

He shook it off, taking the bottle from AC (who was admiring the vintage) and pouring each of them a healthy glass. “To our wonderful Vira,” he raised his glass, “and her future success!”

The others raised their glasses as well, echoing his words.

“Success!”

oOo

Spamton was the slightest bit tipsy when he left the store - no longer his store - and headed down the main street towards the mansion. It was mid-morning now, and the street was bustling with darkners and salesmen hawking their wares. Unfortunately for Spamton, that included his brothers the Addisons.

Popup was the only one on the street today, a table set up before his store with an electric tea kettle and several boxes of his famous tea. The pink Addison was handing out free samples of the teas and accepting custom orders. It looked like his Queen flavor was selling out this morning. The other Addisons were tucked away in their stores, far away from the windows where they could spot him.

Unfortunately, just as Spamton was planning on how to pass Popup without catching his attention, the crowd on the street thinned, leaving him in plain sight of his former brother.

“Good morning, sir! Would you like to try a free sample of personalized tea?” Popup stepped in front of Spamton, eyes nearly shut from how wide his smile was. “Today’s flavor is Queen!”

“You must be [[OUT OF YOUR MIND]] if you think I’m going to buy any of your leaf water.” Spamton crossed his arms and stared at Popup, who’s smile dropped as he realized just who he’d stopped on the street.

“Spamton.” Popup didn’t frown, but he certainly wasn’t smiling anymore. “You dyed your hair.” The pink salesman had dark rings under his eyes, mostly hidden by makeup, but Spamton had known him for years and could tell when he hadn’t been sleeping.

“You look tired,” he blurted without thinking.

Popup set down the cup of free tea he’d been holding and mimicked Spamton’s pose, crossing his arms and leaning back against the table. “Well, unlike you, I have a family to look after.”

“You do.” Spamton nodded, dropping his aggressive posture. “I’d suggest you get some sleep if you want to take care of them properly.” He didn’t comment on the subtle slump of Popup's shoulders, or the way his hair fell limp in its ponytail, or how his skin was lacking the usual rosy glow of electricity that came from a well-rested Addison. He sauntered past before firing his final shot. “After all, you wouldn’t want to lose another brother, would you?”

There was no response, and Spamton didn’t glance back at the eldest Addison as he left the area. In the future, he’d need to remember to stay off the main street.

oOo

Nobody at the Spamton Advertising building commented when free tea arrived in the breakroom, set up in a neat little display by Popup Addison himself and refreshed weekly. The flavors were all berries and flowers, and there was a stack of business cards and flyers boasting his specialty: personalized flavors! Once the setup (arranged and paid for by HR) was in place, his sales went through the roof.

Spamton’s employees were happy with the free, high-quality beverage.

Popup was happy with not only the profit, but feeling like he’d gotten one over on his disowned, arrogant younger brother - after all, he was making money off Spamton’s dime now, without him even knowing!

And Spamton was happy knowing HR was good at keeping their trap shut.

oOo

Nobody at the Mansion batted an eye when twenty wrapped packages arrived for the Swatchlings, aside from the Swatchlings and their eldest sibling. Each package contained a suit made of the finest fabrics, freshly endowed with newly-created color changing magic that reacted to the wearer's state of mind. It was the newest creation of Flash Addison, as the tag proudly stated, patent pending. Along with the perfectly-fitted suits (as though someone had nicked Swatch’s design notes and sent them to Flash) were top-of-the-line Italian style dress shoes, handmade by Banner Addison himself.

The Swatchlings had nearly mobbed the elder sibling, until Swatch explained that they had just put in the order online and pointed them to Spamton. The salesman spent an entire week unable to sneak past the Color Cafe or down the busier mansion hallways without being mobbed by a tearfully happy swatchling trying to express their gratitude.

The Swatchlings had brand new outfits, professionally made and of the highest quality, that matched their odd color aesthetics (although they could now no-longer be told apart only by their suit color, as Spamton quickly learned when trying to find Crimson one day).

Flash and Banner both saw an uptick in their sales following the shipment, as the Swatchlings excitedly told everyone who had created their new suits. The patrons of the Color Cafe were quick to seek out their own color-changing fabric items (mostly scarves and pocket squares - Flash charged a very high premium for the fabric, since it took so much time and magic to create). Banner began selling shoes to darkners who didn’t even have feet, and managed to expand into selling belts and wallets as well.

And Spamton glared at Swatch every time he was mobbed by Swatchlings in the Color Cafe until the gratitude wore off.

oOo

An all-expense paid spa weekend for Queen, Swatch, and Tasque Manager was unexpected and impossible to pin on anybody else. Spamton took their thanks with grace and reassured them that he had gone through the best agency in the city to book the resort. By which he meant he called Survey with a voice-changing software, and Survey had graciously not pointed out that nobody else glitched quite like Spamton and pretended it wasn’t his estranged little brother on the phone. They’d arranged the four-day trip at a spa settled in the Data Mountains south of the city, and made sure it had all the amenities the trio would need (including kitty litter, art supplies, and enough battery acid to keep Queen happy).

The Queen received a break from watching over the citizens of the city. Tasque Manager and Swatch were both granted days off from their tedious work of running the mansion (and keeping the collateral damage from Queen to a minimum).

Survey got a decent fee for setting up the trip and sending more business the spas way.

And Spamton found the door to the basement.

#spamton #spamton g spamton #fanfic #deltarune #swatch #queen #addisons #Warning: Battery Low

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