Writing Is A Hobby And A Curse.

would you let them in your tavern, yes or no? not usually an AU guy.. but I AM a giant bug guy.. so hits them with my PF2e effects

(Tenna (size large) awakened animal/lantern surki custom mixed heritage maestro bard and Spamton human curse of lore oracle i think.. but dont quote me on it yet)

POV you messed up with someone with scary dog privileges (four older brothers)

Still working a little on their designs so sorry if they often change in my posts.

THE SURROGATE 🪹

(Text is transcribed within the alt text + can be found under the cut!)

well well well. im back again and still thinking about that damn television. and in that time i've uhhh uhhh. become brave enough to post what is basically mpreg to my main bc i really liked how it came out. shame dies and it dies today forevermore

this can be considered maybe a bit of a spiritual followup to Smile for the Camera!, at least theme-wise, and expresses a lot of things about tenna that i didnt really get to explore that ive been ruminating about for god. almost 10 months now man. ive got a lot of thoughts that ill probably share in a post of its own or in a reblog later. for now, take this :)

Spent the past... Eight hours drawing this for "The Beast You've Made Me" by @iwantacoffee19 ! I love the fic to bits, I think it's currently my favourite spamtenna fic to date!

A few details in the drawing, that I headcanon from subtext: only Pink and White get new clothes made for them. Pink is the eldest, so his dad makes him clothes that fit him, while blue, orange and yellow get hand me downs (they are very well kept! Not to mention that the dad sews anyway, so everything looks great nonetheless, even with the faded colours of the fabrics.) White also gets new clothes because "she" is the only "girl" in the family. Also, while pink immediately inherited the family jewel (purple, after their mother's hair streak/ magic) because he's the eldest, the mom gave her jewel to white because "girls deserve nice things" (although we know that the only thing that'll catch White's eyes is a bug.)

Fanart for @iwantacoffee19 Spamtenna fanfiction "The Beast You've Made Me" on AO3 cuz I love it, it's incredible.

Tenna fled from the stage as fast as his legs would carry him.

I can't believe I let myself get so emotional onstage! Again! The viewers must've hated that! And now they're worried about me...

He slumped against a wall in the dim corridor and squeezed his antennas until his hands ached.

This is all wrong! Nobody is supposed to worry about me! How could I let that happen!?

Static flared in his shoulders. His head. His chest. His legs. Everywhere.

I don't know how much longer I can keep this act up... I can't convince my viewers that I'm doing fine… and it's getting harder to convince myself that I'm doing fine, too.

He released his antennas and let his arms fall to his sides. One thing was clear. He needed to get as far away from the TV Building as possible.

Everything passed in a staticky blur—the castle gates, the doors, the stairs, the kids' rooms, Queen's room—until his own room's door clicked shut behind him.

The soft green walls were a welcome sight, compared to the harsh stage lights.

Finally, he was all alone. He could stop performing… Drop the act… Stop thinking… And rest.

The armchair in the corner never looked so comfortable.

Tenna kicked off his shoes and gingerly massaged the fresh dent between his antennas. Somehow, it hurt worse than the other night, when the accident first occurred.

Oh well. A little dent was nothing compared to everything that Spamton lost. It seemed like an apt punishment, considering…

He shook his head. What good would more thinking do now?

With stiffness in his shoulders, he took off his suit coat and draped it across the back of the armchair.

The best thing to do was end the day on the best note possible, after all! That way, he could start the next day fresh, make everyone smile onstage and offstage… and check the door, all over again.

It wasn't so bad, was it?

Walking around the side of the armchair, Tenna loosened his tie, undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt, and took a deep breath.

Finally, he could breathe. That shirt felt too tight all evening.

His fingers brushed against the stickers he stuck to his chest-plate a couple nights ago.

Good. They were still there.

Now, he could truly rest.

He reached over the armrest to adjust the cushion… when he noticed a small blue box resting on top of it.

Where did this come from?

Whatever it was, it was cold to the touch and fit perfectly in Tenna's palm. Inside was a cheap bag of diced vegetables. The frozen kind, clearly bought only for its temperature. A make-shift ice pack.

Well, the accident wasn't a surprise to anyone in the dark world or light world! Perhaps it was a get-well-soon gift from Ralsei down the hall? But nobody ever delivered gifts directly to his room.

Tenna reached for the handkerchief in his coat pocket and wrapped it around the ice pack. As he placed it on the armrest, he noticed something else.

A bowtie.

It wasn't a fancy bowtie by any means. In fact, it looked like it had seen far better days. The edges were frayed, the color was faded, yet…

Something about it seemed vaguely familiar.

"Spam…?"

He spoke before he could think. As old and tattered the bowtie was, it resembled the same bowtie that Spamton wore in TV World all those years ago… Back before everything unraveled with that contract.

Static prickled in Tenna's throat. What was something so precious doing in his room? Where did it come from? And why…?

Hands trembling, he scooped up the dingy fabric, and that was when he heard a faint scuff, like socks stopping on tile.

Looking over his shoulder… …he noticed something else.

Or rather, someone else.

A smaller darkner, with clean black hair. Wearing pink and yellow glasses. And bright colored clothes. The same clothes he had bought almost two weeks ago for—

"Spam?" @realspamtongspamton

For a heartbeat, the other darkner froze. Like he was a child caught sneaking out of a room.

Silence fell between them. The other darkner shuffled back a step. Tenna's screen flickered.

Then, the other darkner scampered out the door before Tenna could say more.

Slowly, his focus returned to the bowtie in his hands.

"Why…?"

Static crept into his voice and along the edges of his screen.

"I thought you hated me… Are you saying you don't?"

He knelt down by the armchair and hugged the bowtie close to his chest.

"Thanks for letting me take care of you, Spam… Those clothes really do make you look like a Big Shot."

The static now overtook his entire screen.

"I think I know who to give your bowtie to."

None other than their sweet little angel, of course.

"She'll love it."

Nobody ever noticed him, probably.

His hand stayed tight around the small prize in his pocket. He stop walking until he reached the safety of the restroom, where he locked the door and sat in a corner padded by blankets and pillows now.

He leaned against the wall and pulled them out. The cigarette, the lighter.

For a moment, he just stared at them.

His hands were shaking.

Bad.

He fumbled the cigarette between his fingers, nearly dropping it once before finally getting it to sit right between his teeth. The lighter clicked a few times.

The third spark caught.

The tip glowed orange.

Smoke filled his mouth before he even realized he’d inhaled.

…Oh.

The puppet's shoulders dropped like someone had cut the strings holding them up.

The smoke burned but the relief hit his body like warm water. For the first time in years, the constant buzzing under his stiff frame quieted. The frantic jitter in his hands eased. The tight knot in his chest loosened enough for him to breathe.

It tasted awful.

But a decade of withdrawal had tasted worse.

For a little while, the world stopped screaming at him.

And of course…

of course his stupid head still went there.

Spamton tipped his head back, staring at the dark ceiling tiles.

He could still see it.

Tenna in his room.

Tall.

Bigger than he remembered.

Looking…

…upset.

Spamton clicked his tongue.

“I HATE THAT GUY.”

Another drag.

Smoke curled out through his teeth.

“…YEAH.”

He hated it.

Hated the way Tenna looked when he said his name.

Hated the way his screen flickered.

Hated the way he’d frozen there like he didn’t know what to do.

…how he felt like he’d actually been glad to see him. To be seen.

His fingers adjusted the bright sleeve on his arm without thinking.

Clean clothes. New.

He scowled down at them, trying to hold the expression there and keep the anger where it belonged. But he couldn’t.

Tenna’s face hadn’t been smug, or annoyed, or the kind of look someone gave a washed-up salesman skulking through the halls. It had been guilty. Maybe longing.

Like someone who kept checking the door every night, even when they told themselves they shouldn’t.

Spamton took another drag.

The calm from the cigarette settled deeper into him, and with it came a part of his mind that didn’t lie as easily. It didn’t feel real of him. Spamton just couldn’t think that way anymore, but still the thoughts came:

If Tenna still felt that bad…

If he still cared that much…

Then maybe the spite Spamton had been carrying around all this time wasn’t the whole story.

Maybe it had never been.

The thought made his chest tighten in a way the smoke couldn’t quite unwind. That was stupid.

For as much as he hated him, maybe some idiotic and traitorous part of him still wanted to see Tenna again.