#my Swatchling Quest continues

[sadlittledib]

attack for Janitor_Boy on artifight

[humunanunga]

Spare Keys (aborting a Salt Route)

Salt Route was dreamt by beabigshot​. This will have been reuploaded onto @verdantviridity​ after the termination of my this account (luckily restored) made me realize that all my posts, even reblogs on my sideblog, would become inaccessible if I didn’t start reuploading on a backup account. So if you see a reupload of this post on there, that’s what’s going on. Once everything’s caught up, I’ll decide from there whether I want to make that my new main account or just let it go into hibernation. Anyway, enough disclaimers. Here’s how to abort a Salt Route:

Check the dumpster first. If you go to the right afterward, you’ll discover that you were held up searching for so long that the traffic already cleared. The Queen is assumed to have gotten tired of waiting and drove on ahead, prompting another remark from Spamton about abandonment. You can now go left or right while the road is clear. You probably want to head in the direction of Spamton’s shop, but it’ll be locked and some enemy encounters will be unavoidable. Kris’s spare option will be missing and Spamton’s spare will be stuck on selecting Kris. Go right.

The split path you’re supposed to take with Noelle now spells DIALTONE. Spamton comments that without Kris, he would have had to keep hopping back and forth over the cones, leading him to muse about jumping through hoops just to get by and taking leaps of faith to make it [[BIG]]. Search the bottle game booths. You won’t find his keys here, but he’ll find the box Noelle tossed. She’s continuing her side of the normal route ahead of you, which means the cheese will be gone when you get to the mouse puzzles and the Ambyulances were already encountered.

Head toward Queen’s mansion. Spamton will remark that coming here won’t get them far until he finds his keys. When he hears the Queen approaching, he’ll put on Noelle’s box. Queen will assume he’s the same friend as before, only they perhaps helped themself to a dip in the pool. Since the Queen didn’t capture you, she caged Ralsei instead and now takes this moment to hire her trucie as a butler, so after a fade-out, Kris is suited up in the lobby and Spamton is still wearing the box. The Queen then leaves it up to the swatchlings in the mansion to train Kris. If you don’t obtain the box, Queen won’t take him with you and he’ll have returned to the dumpster, and checking will only make him talk about everyone leaving him behind.

Following a long, quiet pause after she leaves, Spamton will say he remembers where his keys are. Follow him into the anywhere door and go to the Trash Zone. Talking to idle swatchlings in the mansion may not engage them in a fight, but it’s safer not to wander the halls before you can spare again. When you find Spamton outside his shop, he laughs at himself intermittently as he laments that he locked himself out (with Keygen locked inside) and that he just knew the [[spare]] wouldn’t work, at which point he will loop through a breakdown.Take the anywhere door to Cyber Field and visit Sweet Cap’n Cakes. Talk and select Keys to hire their service. They’ll meet you back at Spamton’s shop to break in, and Spamton, hysterically overjoyed, will return the [[spare key]] he swiped from you. You can now spare again, and Spamton will offer you a [[Specil Deal]] as thanks, which will restore the Keygen quest.

This is the point where you can resume your pacifist run, but with a few other changes:

Kris’s room in Queen’s mansion has your name scratched out, with Ralsei inside. He and Susie are still in their cages, and whether you go into his room or Susie’s first, they’ll ask you where you’d been and why you’re in a suit. You can either reply that you and Queen are trucies or that she was out of cages. As you look around for a way to deactivate the cages, you are overwhelmed by the possibilities of what to type into the computer until you deploy Lancer. When he turns sickly, Ralsei tells the party right away what’s wrong. Susie tries rushing the party to the Fountain in response, but they run out of time before he petrifies in the same room as on a normal route. After this and the same conversation with Berdly, Susie prompts Kris to change out of the suit already.

The spotlight puzzles don’t activate until you backtrack with your party, but Ralsei is present to add his own comments this time. When Berdly confesses to being of average intelligence all along, Ralsei tries to console Berdly, but when he struggles with pep talk that Berdly will respond to, Susie interjects with the same Dragon Blazers analogy.

The Spamton Neo fight is now skippable... kind of. Spamton never got the chance to tell you to come alone this time, so Ralsei and Susie will follow you down into the basement. Susie will try to ask what the hell Kris had been up to without them that brings them down here. If you encountered Jevil in the Chapter 1 save file used for this run, she’ll add, “Don’t tell me you found another weirdo in a basement.” Ralsei will try to reason that Kris must have a good reason, “right, Kris?” When Spamton Neo jumps the party, his drop down separates Kris from the others, but Susie interjects to demand answers, warning that he’ll have hell to pay if he lays a hand on Kris. Spamton Neo turns his attention toward her, finding it humorous that she’s offering him [[free vacation tickets]]. Seeing an opening, Kris, unprompted by the player, slashes at the strings. Spamton will be alarmed and offended at first that you made a move on him with his back turned, but he’ll realize you didn’t actually strike him and it dawns on him what you were doing. From here, he’ll urge you to cut the rest off and let you Act without attacking you on his turns. Deal Gone Wrong will continue to play instead of Big Shot as he continues to vent, spending his turns giving his version of the same story you’re told by the Addisons after this fight. If you Fight him, he’ll get angry and start fighting back. When you make it to the last string, he’ll add to his normal dialogue, “ARE YOU PROUD OF ME NOW??”

In Spamton’s post-battle dialogue, after resigning that he’s still a puppet, he’ll add, “Well. No point in crying over spilled salt, I guess.”

The Addisons’ telling will still be more forward about the events themselves, while Spamton’s telling will have been more about his feelings of abandonment, betrayal, dependence, personal worth and being wrapped around someone’s finger.

From here on, you should be back on track for a normal route.

[selfindulgentpolygon]

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.

“A [AAA Batteries]!!!!!!!  I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING [Specil]!!! YOU WERE MY LAST [Confidante] FROM [My Favorite Year]!!! MY [[Partner-in-crime]][(C)1997]!

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 )