An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
He sips a cat-themed coffee and contemplates it all. His fingerprints, left on a world he’s never seen before. His eyes reflected in a stranger’s; his voice chopped up and interspersed with words not his own. (Spamton has been restored to default settings, which is to say that he's lost his memories of the last 20 years. Tenna presents a fascinating dilemma - how do you cope with the fumble of the century when you can't even remember what you did to break his heart?)
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fic inspired by @starridge's beautiful spamtenna factory settings au! reblogs appreciated :D














