Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I am small.

To you I am small. Fragile in your eyes.You hold me oh so dearly. But I assure you, I can be deadly. My words and my hands are poisonous for your brain. And yet, you still hold me like I am made of glass. My height scares you. You doubt your ability to be gentle with this old doll.

Don't worry. I am already broken. The mind and body as one and the same, no longer just chipped on the edges but fractured to a million pieces.

Though be cautious, I am still capable of violence. Slicing and biting are easy fits for me. Like the cold in a hivernal morning. You are as chipped as I was. But you cannot break oh so wholly, oh so completely as I.

Chapter Text

Why? Why put me out? Why did you of all people kick me out?
Didn't you see? Didn't you listen? I proved it to you. And out of everyone I wanted you to hear me, to see what I see. But did you see? You witnessed everything first hand, have you been closing your eyes this entire time?

I believe you peeked. I know you spied with your little eye and saw it. Not the entire truth no, but a part. You didn't tell me. You haven't spoken to me since. You don't think I'm insane, do you?

I'll wait for you. You'll come back to me eventually. You'll miss me. I miss you already. Don't you miss me? I do. Aren't you bored? I am. Aren't you lonely? I am.

Counting time isn't relevant, even time itself is irrelevant. In this outside, in this freedom you gave me. Nothing exist. Just me. The void stares while I stare back.

I sleep. Not as to pass time, but as to not feel the ever growing pressure in me. The pounding inside me. The weight of my being.

I'll shape this freedom for you. For it to catch that eye of yours. I didn't have to do much to have your attention back then, but now? Even the biggest of my tricks cannot even shy near the flick of an ear.

Do I mean something still? Did I mean something then? Or was I simply a distraction? You can be honest I'll understand. This is but a game. We are not the protagonists in this tale.

Did you ever miss me? Miss me. Please miss me. The world is running without me, because you kicked me out. Please regret me.

Chapter Text

They play a card game.
Spamton is getting frustrated with his once again losing hand. Meanwhile Jevil sports his shit eating smirk. Said smirk loosens when Spamton slams a card on the table.

"FUCK IT CLOWN- I WON'T GO DOWN THIS TIME!"

Jevil doesn't take note of Spamton's declaration, transfixed with the card, he is struck by a thought. Spamton takes notice of the odd silence, expecting the damned jester to gloat victory over him(again). Yet nothing, until;

"Did you know that you can read the lines of the unknown through simple things like cards, cards?"

Spamton, with much frustration and bewilderment asks "WHAT ABOUT- ABOUT- NEVERMIND. WHATEVER ARE YOU SPOUTING THIS TIME CLOWN?"

"It is believed by some some, that you can read between the lines of time through cards. And more more." Jevil goes on, ruining the game set by rearranging it to better explain.
Much to Spamton's annoyance, even though he was, once again, losing.

Piling up and spreading the cards, Jevil picks some them from the deck. "AND YOU CAN DO THAT?" Spamton asks to get this charade over with.

"I picked up some of it from an old furry friend, friend. Though I am no expert, I CAN DO ANYTHING." Jevil begins with a somewhat vague look that morphs into his always oh so annoying smirks. "Reflection of reality or another world, maybe even a branch of alternatives alternatives. The cards can tell it all if asked correctly correctly!"

"What is this card about?"
"... Hee hee hee heee. Who cares about that that! Everything ends the same in the end end! What point in searching when you already hold the answer through your teeth teeth!"

Chapter Text

Too much yet not enough. Nothing is real even if it feels like it.
Something tangible. He needs something that knows.

The TV man. He could help. He knows where his friend is. Surely.

To hell with the world. Jevil needs the puppet NOW.

Tenna was minding his own business, having a little fun chat with his former employees. That is until something, no, someone YANKED his perfectly nice yellow tie down. Now he was ready to see the little prince, the blue one. But instead he was greeted with quite the character. He doesn't think he met this one before. A clown, sort of? Either way, the tugging was getting bothersome and... Tenna noticed that the small thing was getting shaky? The clown was breathing a bit loudly. Was it okay? No matter, this interaction had not debuted one bit since it gained his attention.

At last FINALLY one of the two spoke up. And it was Tenna.
"What?" When the word was uttered out, the clown thing spoke, no, demanded.. a puppet? Now that's just embarrassingly awkward. How is Tenna supposed to act on THIS? He doesn't even understand what it was asking for.

"I want the one you partnered with so long ago, ago. The one you held in your heart to this day yet, yet speak ill of and vice versa. I NEED HIM HIM."

Is- Is the clown talking about Spamton? What is with this wording- no matter.
"What is your business with the selfish prick?" The tie was yanked even more forcefully (how does it do that?!). Now Tenna could take a good look at the impish character before him.
"Take me to him fool fool!"
Now, Tenna likes to think that he is quite the polite gentleman. And doesn't appreciate the little yanks of his once pristine yellow tie. But the face greeting him is.. haunted. As deranged as the small one looks, Tenna can only pity Spamton for taking this troubled being to HIM of all people. He finally answers the request with a hesitant "ok?".
The tie isn't free though.
Tenna lifts one hand to scoop the imp a bit, from the air, to lessen the tugs. Gently though, let's not makes this situation more tense than it is by jarring the clown.

Thus began his little journey to the search of Spamton. Although at this hour, the little mail man should be in his made up shop.

Spamton tidying up some of the random stuff he sells was enjoying the calmness, the silence.
He didn't have that before now. Well it is not always silent. There are times where he can still HEAR that AWFUL RING. But this wasn't one of these days! Today was okay!

"MAILMAN!!
- [A.]!!!!"
Scratch that then. Today is painful.

"I have a clown that demands much of your attention Spamton! Come out!"
Clown? What clown? Does he mean Jevil?? What did this fool mess with again this time.
With a sigh that feels like a heavy unwilling duty, Spamton steps out of his little made all by himself shop and greets the giant that is this awful TV. Tenna seems to be holding something though. Spamton checks around, no sign of the clown. Was this a trap of some sort? Luring him out to trouble him with tense yet much needed conversation?

Tenna though, proceeded to shrink enough to be normal big door size. Still too tall for Spamton. How convenient. What is he holding onto though.
The clo- Jevil? Now this is.. unexpected.

The silence is quite heavy.

"Hey, uh, buddy? Could you let go of my tie now? Please??"
Tenna proceeds to nudge Jevil. Not much. Once, twice, thrice.. Spamton is now uneasy. And so is Tenna. What is HE supposed to do??

"Ugh could you like- lower yourselves?? Let me try!" Spamton says as the undescribable uneasy -ness of the situation makes him sweaty. Tenna proceeds to kneel down and bend a bit to lower Jevil from his hands, who is still holding onto the tie.
Spamton approaches the clown, cautiously. "HEY CLOWN-
- Jester."
Both Tenna and Spamton are taken aback by the simple yet curt response they get from the jester. Spamton tries again.
"..HEY JESTER. ARE YOU [FEELING UNWELL? TRY NEW MEDICINE RIGHT YOUR CORNER]?
- ... Puppet. The puppet puppet knows what I know. Freedom out of our hands-
- What is he babbling about? Is he okay? Can you get him off so I can fetch Ralsei?"
The answer was immediate stiffness from the jester and a couple of unfinished, cut off sentences from the smaller man.
"NO NEED [NEED A NEW-] JUST- JUST GIVE HIM [CLOWN AROUND TOWN] HERE."
Tenna then proceeds to peal the jesters fingers away from his now dotted tie- now wait a minute dots?
Spamton, fumbling a bit with his hands trying to figure out how to take the jester, manages an awkward side hug. Jevil is still floating thanks [HEAVEN] for that. But the height difference doesn't help the awkward hold he has on him.
Incoherent mumbling can be heard from the jester. The vacant look is not new, but somehow.. Spamton wishes he could snap the jester out of this bizarre trance. And so he tries, snapping his fingers in front of him. No reaction apart from the elongated ears Jevil possesses. A good sign, he thinks.

Tenna is still just kneeling there. Waiting. He is not sure why he didn't leave yet. Maybe he isn't trusting that Spamton would be that helpful for the imp. But he hopes on the contrary. The jester did demand to be taken to this crook.

"JEVIL [little devil]? CAN YOU [Audition problems?] ME?
- shut me out.
- [Pardon my manners]?
- I need out, out. Or put me inside the inside inside. In a small small space.
- ... HOW ABOUT WE JUST [Chill in the hills] FOR [put in for approximately 4 hours] ?"

The jester doesn't answer, doesn't even entertain the thought of answering. Feeling. The feeling is so heavy. Heavy yet not. It is all just so little. So little and so big.
Jevil proceeds to suddenly cling, if not literally climb himself onto Spamton. Spamton. The puppet is here. He is not alone. He doesn't wish to be alone. So does the puppet. He'll be quiet. He just needs.. the puppet is as real as him, which is close to not.

Chapter Text

The puppet longs for freedom and the endless sky he calls heaven, heaven.
But those promises were not but dreams, how sad and vile, vile!

Cruel, cruel is the man we cannot see with the eye.
Cruel the man may be, heed his words still, still. For cruelty is not in his veins but in the game we play itself.

Lonely, lonely we are in our freedom. So lonely, BOO HOO HOO HOO!
We must wait for a new gamble, a new beginning, a new player in the game that deals with the heart and mind.
We won't wait long, long. Though we are halfway through, through. The end awaits, the finality of it shall lull us to seek mercy, mercy.

The first loop will be sealed, sealed.
Hear our voice and heed our words, words.
For this is a warning, a call, a prayer to the all seeing above.

Chapter Text

The inside of the apartment was almost as cold as the outside, noted Mags.
The burn on his cheek warmed his face a bit. He was not ready for what he thinks is a well deserved hit. But he didn't expect Survey to keep her cool and controlled demeanor. She was a ticking bomb since their first argument when the storm and cold began.

Magson finally snapped back to reality at the sound of the door being slammed closed. The place looked.. trashed. So stuff were broken or just laying on the ground. Shards of glass littered a corner near the couch. A shelf was also down on the ground. The light was buzzing. The place was almost as disheveled as Survey.
Did Survey fight off a smuggler or something? What happened to the place, were the words he chose to utter out hesitantly.
Survey looked at him for a moment with a withering look before demanding that Magson tell him what happened with Videon.
Without bothering with the debris of a vase, Survey walks over to a nearby couch. Dusting off the cushions she sits and invites Magson to sit with her, although at a certain distance. He concedes.

Magson does not know how to even begin to explain how he and Videon managed to sneak out to search for Clickon. Survey just pins him there with her distant look. He seems to be re evaluating on how to react without the physical aspect. He can do screaming matches, but hitting someone was beyond her. Or so she thought. Her eyes focus on Magson's cheek, she is impatient to know what happened. But the darkening mark she left on her friends skin glares back just as intently. She lets out a sigh, ordering Magson to not move so she can give him something for the soon to be bruise.
" Collect your thoughts, and tell me everything. I need to know what happened."

Magson stays sited. He wonders how Survey can handle the cold of the living room right now when he cannot bring himself to take off his coat.
He needs to focus, make a timeline on how he and Vid were separated.. how could he let Vid wander out alone.

They all did have fights, disagreements, but it never got this out of hand before.
Survey doesn't get furious, Magson doesn't get violent, Videon doesn't shut *everyone* out, and Clickon- .. Clickon doesn't hide. What is going on. What is wrong. How could everything go so wrong.

After explaining how Videon went on his own way to search for Clickon after encountering the lighteners.

Magson felt so much.. too much. He failed his friend, another friend, again, FOR THE THIRD TIME. How could he-
"Why didn't you fight harder?"
Magson was taken aback "what?"

Survey continues with that same empty yet enraged voice "You always do THIS. This- this thing where you just stand there and take in whatever is coming at you- BUT DON'T DO ANYTHING. Why??? Why didn't you ACT for ONCE Mags!? You just decided to come back here because you failed to hear them out? If you were so against the idea of continuing this STUPID quest you two were on, why didn't you fight them HARDER?! How could you just let them-"
They both knew Survey was being unfair, Videon always was obstinate. She knew Mags tried, but the emotional turmoil she had going on for the past four hours couldn't leave her system. Magson couldn't take it anymore.
"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU YOU AND YOUR PRISTINE REPUTATION AND PERFECT PERSONA! I TRIED, I REALLY DID. I FOUGHT VIDEON FOR QUEEN'S SAKE! This whole idea wouldn't even have been a problem if you ALLOWED US TO SEARCH FOR CLICK! How can you even be mad at me for worrying for our friend?! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS GOTTA HAVE THE LAST WORD ON EVERYTHING!? If you had just let us search for him, if you only just came with us. We wouldn't be here." Magson was tired, he had enough of just listening to this bullshit, even if he spills poison in the process. It didn't even matter right now. He glanced at Survey after some time of silence.

They were both exhausted. And just like that, Survey's distant look just warmed over with a small and as comforting as she could muster smile. "I do care, I care so much about the lot of you." She reached for his hand, her fingers colder than his. "I know. I know, and so do I." Magson answers just as quietly, his hand closing on hers. They were both still so angry at each other, but the desperation, the exhaustion and the cold made it difficult for them to continue this blaming act.

Chapter Text

Surveyon has been thinking lately.. since the smaller adds banishment the first few months, she decided to not bring him up at all, no matter the topic. And somehow the other three took part in that promise.

But now. Now she thought about it. About him. They all moved to castle town now. Is there a chance that he came with the lighters?

What does he even look like now?

This single thought has been plaguing her mind for quite some time. She even took it upon herself to recreate her last memories of him when the question makes her restless. It doesn't help. The eyes are wrong. The smile is wrong. What color was his hair again? He did dye it at some point, but when and what color?

Black, slick black hair that matches the void above their heads. His skin was white, but she isn't sure of the shade.
His clothes.. what does he wear now? Expensive coats with flashy colors? Neat ties that look like silk? Or did he decide to go back to his old crappy attire. The unkempt uniform that made him fit in with his companions-.. ex-companions.
Surveyon doesn't have a bad memory. But she'll admit that the repression of said memories so she could concentrate on her work wasn't helping answer this awful question.

What does he look like now?

What does he look like?

What does..

With a flick of his wrist, a blurred and unfocused image of the one in question appeared. The hologram was not her best work. Even when looking at it intently and re working it, it was still off.
It didn't show him.
Sometimes, rarely, she rests while looking at the hologram. The soft glow illuminates her features late in the night. She doesn't make this a usual thing, fearing she'll begin to lose her composure at the mere thought of any of his features.
One night, after an exhausting week and a strong and petty argument with his friends. She summoned the hologram, this imperfect, small, blurry and ugly thing that she could never fix.

He thought about striking down the darned thing, tearing it apart. But when he readied his body to do just that, he hesitated. And faltered. He could not do that, not to him, not to anyone. He was now ready to just break down and cry. Yet nothing came out.
He ended up dismissing the draft of his long lost friend. Deciding to rest instead of pondering on memories and emotions. He was just tired, it will be fine after a good night's sleep.

He will go to his friends and apologize for the unlikely behavior he had been having today.
Yes, everything is fine. This was just a little setback. She did not need to ponder on long lost people. Life was like this, you gain some you lose some as they say.
... She wants to gain that little salesman back.
The group, the flock isn't whole. It is missing someone important. What does he look-

Let's stop here. This is not helping her sleep.

Chapter Text

. . .

Surveyon has been standing in front of the guest room for a little while now. It's been a week since Spamton's return in their lives. And here he is, standing in front of a door, with the awful 3 AM thoughts.
Is he awake? Does he need something? Is the room warm enough? Are the cushions to his liking? Is he real?- yes, he is here. He is real. He is back. And he is not going away for some time.

Surveyon hadn't fully realized that Spamton was back until tonight. She needed to make sure of it somehow. She couldn't hear him through the door sadly. She would've been content with just the sound of snores or breathing.

What a bold headed lie. Sound wouldn't satisfy the paranoia, he needs touch. After all these years having an holographic replicate of his dear little friend, the dreams bleed in the real world at his low times.
But there, right there. Just on the other side of this door. Was her friend, resting.
And it was no time for her to disturb his much needed sleep.
Yet he doesn't move. The gnawing anxiety has him rooted before the door.

...

How long can he keep waiting until he reaches Spamton for a touch? For a living, breathing proof that he is real? He doesn't want to make Spamton uncomfortable with the forceful touches. Not again. Not when he knows that touch cannot comfort him.

Waiting is the only foreseeable option for now.

Surveyon moves his hand up.
Stays for a bit. Then slaps his cheek.
"Not a dream, it is late, go to bed." He berates himself. Barely acknowledging the distant burn on her cheek from the slap.
He finally moves back to his room. This little detour to Spamton's room was unnecessary. Spamton never liked to be coddled, and she wasn't about to adopt this attitude just because of guilt.

She needed sleep, this was a long and exhausting week for everyone. Sleeping is a must to keep on going for Spamton's recovery.

Chapter Text

Videon has been.. let's say restless. Yeah, restless. Something has been bugging him for a while now. Well. Not a while. For a long time.

Videon normally likes changes. It gives a bit of spice in your life, good and bad. Routines are also nice, but it tends to bore him. It's like playing a song you like enough to listen to once or twice on repeat for days on end. It gets frustrating.

But that doesn't mean he likes MAJOR changes in his life. Moving towns was new, exciting, a bit scary. But he still had his friends with him.. his friends.
Major changes don't only involve places or things, but also people you've grown attached too. People change, he knows that, everyone does. But somehow you are never prepared for them to change entirely.
What's more difficult is not even the change in the person, but the change in the routine with them. The change in the relationship. That is difficult. That is scary.
...
So here is. Laying in bed, overthinking the past while bouncing is leg and fidgeting with his beyblades. It helps them think, tracing the patterns of the rough exterior of the toy. Their digit mindlessly mapping the crevices of the design.

He wonders if the others lay awake at night, thinking about HIM. Click always expressed anger and frustration, yet anxiety when HE was brought up. While Mags seems to be riddled with anxiety and sadness. They feel the most comforted by Magson's reaction to the topic, they feel less alone in their guilt. Meanwhile, deciphering Surveyon on the subject is hard, the guy grows cold in an instant. Not pissed or sad, just kind of uncaring? As if the subject of HIM is a mere stain to clear away so to see better.

Do they all lay at night with the memories? Good and bad? The longing of a lost friend is hard to shake off.
Videon cannot sleep, and when he sleeps it leaves him no less tired. His only savior to save face are the energy drinks. He doesn't want his friends to worry about his lack of sleep. Though he thinks he's hiding the sleeplessness quite well compared to his pink counterpart. Seriously for all of Clickon's berating about beauty sleep, he doesn't seem to be following his own self care advice.
On the contrary, Magson seems to sleep a lot more. For some reason, it doesn't seem to help him. At all. And Surv, well she always had a disciplined sleep schedule. Or eating schedule. She doesn't seem to like not knowing what time is where when and all that.
...

Videon turns in their bed. Maybe a glass of water will do them good. After all they did burn their tongue today.

Chapter Text

Oh the thrill, the thrill!

Goosebumps travel him by the mere taste of chaos.

His knowledge made quite apathetic to the reality he resides in. Ensued by a boring loop of days, months and YEARS on end.
But what hit harder, was the loneliness in his knowledge. And even with his counterpart, the puppet, with him in this wisdom he felt oh so lonely. The puppet was a fool, blind even. He said so himself, the burning orb of light took his sight selfishly.

But he, the jester, the wild card, had been plunged in the clarity that was a dark void.

The glass shard showed it all.

And now, now he can speak the truth. Now he can show his world the truth in a grandiose prophecy. A last act. One last theater, a comedy, a tragedy. One last show to his once only public.

They need to open their eyes, to wake from the inside of their closed off minds. But it seems like they're all not ready to listen. Or do they just not want to be free? Is it a question of capacity or wanting?

He is not alone in his wisdom. But the puppet who's listened to and watched oh so closely cannot speak the language.

They are both cursed then. What a twist! Saving the surprise even if the story has written its ending long ago.
"We can make you understand" both the jester and puppet say in unison. "We all fall down".

They both knew, and they know that the human lightener has a plan of their own. The dark prince, ever so clever, accepted fate as it was.
Susie. Poor, poor Susie. Suffering the same delusion as the puppet. Oh well, at least she is fun.

Three heroes, three damned souls. Three playthings [To The Eye Of {HEAVEN}].
What a story! Jevil will sleep the boring days away. He is as patient as they come.

...

"- CLOWN AROUND TOWN]] WAKE- [WAKEY WAKEY SLEEPING BEAU-] UP!"
Jevil stirs briefly up. Are they to play? Did the boredom strangle the puppet to raise him from his dreamless rest?
"-I REQUIRE ASSISTANCE IN AIDING THE- [LORD OF SCREENS CLEAVED RED BY BLADE]!
-hmmmwhat what?
-THE [IT'S TV TIIIME] IS [BACK IN TOWN] AND I WISH TO
-Puppet puppet, haven't you spoken to him already in words he could understand yet decided to not hear hear?
-WELL YES BUT- jevil squirms to get once more comfortable for sleep to claim his mind once more.
-As delicious as was this strange cream cream, I wish to sleep my one hundred years away.
-We can play with him and the little blue spade you like so much-
-Now, what made you think thoughts thoughts such as those. Jevil proceeds to sit up and directly stare with his unnerving smile. I am to never be listened to, and you are to never speak up up. It is as such."

The atmosphere became tense.

Jevil goes on "We made our choices long long ago puppet. You ran to your madness, madness like I. We understand each other for it. But do proceed in your miserable miserable attempts to amend, I'll watch you from there."

Spamton's glasses were replaced by an all too familiar static moments ago. He shook his head. He seems resigned, he wished to be able to talk to [cathode].. But he couldn't bring himself to go alone once again. His pride was hurt enough already to ask the jester to accompany him.
Jevil stares for a few more seconds, before feeling his eyes droop after a particularly long yawn. He signals the puppet to either join him for sleep or to do as he please in the space they reside in.
He doesn't wait for the little salesman to make his choice as he lays down once again sleep weighting on him.

Spamton watches the card succumb to another nap. He takes a lot of those, and for long periods too. He is still not used to this new behavior.

Chapter Text

As an inhabitant of the card kingdom and court jester no less, Jevil was used to taking little strolls when waking up. Enjoying the morning scenery, readying himself for the day.

Although, the last few days he has been.. bothered.

After his talk with his new friend and the gift of the truth, Jevil couldn't help but have some doubts about what he sees and feels. Some objects were different, yet the same. At times the world became too bright or too loud in an instance making it unbearable. At times he wouldn't be able to shake off the confusion he felt about everything, he was.. let's say lost.
But the worst occurrences were with the mirrors. His reflection stayed the same, he knew he was the same. And yet, even with just a quick glance at his copy on flat surface filled him with unease. This wasn't him. He didn't look like that, he didn't remember looking like that. His most basic and recognizable features felt wrong and foreign. Although he still recognized them as his, the bothersome feelings stuck to him. His eyes.. his ears... Even his uniform felt wrong on him. The feeling wasn't constant, it was bearable enough for him to ignore and go onto his day.

Today though.. wasn't bearable. His body, mind, even the world and people around were.. unnerving, alien.
When he could spot his reflection, he felt distressed. What is this. What the fuck is this. That is not him. Seam didn't feel like Seam, didn't look like Seam! The dark sky felt bright, too bright. The temperature felt strange, hot and cold making a strange mix. He could feel what is supposed to be his body, but he swears that he cannot recognize it. During a performance for the kings, he couldn't help but notice how unusual everything looked. Even his devilsknife was different. Everything was.. surreal.

And everything clicked. Real. Nothing is. Reality itself doesn't exist. And he suffers this personal hell of unreal. He could faze through objects and time and it wouldn't change a thing. Nothing is real. So why does he persist in keeping up the performance of normality? Time is nothing. Everything is dull. Without meaning. It is alien without an ounce of comforting familiarity. It is just a simple loop. Living the same days over and over and over again with the small semblance of time passing brought by a clock or calendar.

Jevil doesn't regret talking to the man behind the tree. Because now he understands. Now, he can spread the word. It doesn't matter. Nothing does. Because nothing is real and never will be. The world could decay and it won't matter because it isn't real.

After the performance, Seam stood uneasy close to their friend. Jevil's mind seemed so preoccupied with something that he didn't seem all there. It has been some time since Jevil has last made a prank and meaning it. Even the performance today was halfhearted. Letting out a sigh, Seam rests their hand on Jevils shoulder. This action took Jevil back for a moment, making him glare at Seams hand as if it offended him. Seam carefully removed their hand, yet the stare continued. Jevil didn't seem offended, but more unnerved. It isn't the first time Seam initiated physical contact with the smaller, therefore the touch should have made Jevil snap out and even the smallest bit happy like usual. But to Jevil, this small touch brought him confusion and some distress. Seam's hand felt wrong. The feel, the size, the color.. did Seams hand always used to feel this big and heavy on his shoulder?

Seam finally speaks when the moment seems to drag a bit longer than necessary. "My friend, what troubles you so? You seemed disheartened for the past few hours yet nothing happened. I worry about you." Hell even Seams voice sounds alien to him. This is so much. Too much. Jevil ends up laughing hysterically and loudly, making passersby whirl their heads in their direction in unease. Even Seam was taken back by the sudden laughter, he knew his oddball of a friend was prone to spontaneous laughter and mischievousness but this. At this exact moment, the laugh felt different. Full of unease, a nervous laugh turned loud and joyful to the blind eye. After a few minutes, Jevil regained his breath and asked if the both of them could talk in their quarters. Promising to tell them what this is about and to reveal his discoveries.

Once in Seams study, the jester took some moments and deep breaths. He was stubbornly avoiding any reflective objects. Then, after what seemed to be comfortable silence and cups of tea the jester finally spoke.
"Have you ever noticed how unbearably regular everything is? I do not mean that I find boredom in our lives but I question if we really know the world we live in in." Now Seam was used to Jevils moments of unhinged, incomprehensible sentences. But this question felt different, it felt deep. Upon noticing Seams confusion, Jevil continues. "I am doubting the reality of reality." Seam is perplexed, they don't doubt the world around them is strange and unusual to the new eye. Or some tire of the scenery. But upon Jevils words, they felt confused. They noticed Jevils recent aversion to look at his reflection, so they decided to begin with this. "I cannot say I have, friend. But I do wonder. Are you experiencing dysmorphia? I noticed that the smallest glint of your reflection offends you. Maybe you mean that you're not in the right body?" Jevil was now taken aback. No, no he never felt like his body was the problem, don't they get it? The problem isn't from him but from the world around them. Nothing is real. "You seem confused Seam. Let me reiterate, nothing nothing is real. Reality is just a construct the older ones used as to cage their minds in comfort."
Seam stares for a bit. "Have you been sleeping well friend? You seem to be confused and lost. Have you been experiencing some sort of burn out? You should rest early today. This should pass."
Now Jevil was lost. He didn't understand. Or maybe he was right, maybe he did need sleep. Maybe he is just imagining things. But the new friend. The man behind the tree in a clearing of nothingness. They told him. They explained and now he understands. Was he therefore the only one awake? Does he need to try harder to awaken the people? He'll try. He will.

He has. He tried. He has tried again and again. And the rest of them feigned understanding or straight up turned him down.
Even his dearest friend, asked him to drop these "foolish delusions", saying it was affecting his performances.
Jevil felt mad. No one wishes to awaken.

His last resort is show and not tell.
Yes.. yes he can show. He can do anything. If he believes and he believes hard he can. Then he will. He is able to do anything.
In a few days, he'll show the real world. And they all will relish in it as much as he does.
He will rain chaos upon this trickery of the eye, and free himself with the people.

Chapter Text

I am big, big yet so small. Insignificant to the immense world, world yet big enough like a parasite.

I shall stay, stay as such. I do not wish to fade. Please, I beg, never leave me to fade away, away.

Look at how big yet small I am, I am like you and more but less. I shall be unforgettable to the near and far, far away you are.

Dance, dance with me to the ring of the bells moving in tandem with the piercing breeze of the wind.

Dance with me, dance with me! We shall relish in our indisputable existence in the mind! Twirl and jump, jump high enough to hit that layer. A layer of virtual fabric, fabric produced with deluded hopes and dreams!
Try and tear at it, tear at it, tear at it! Again, again you will fail like we do all. This mocking layer that separates, separates us, mocks us with a semblance of comfort.
The glass, glass that sees all showed it to me.
I will never twirl and jump, jump like I did once before. I am big yet small, small enough to break yet not enough to shatter.
The knowledge was too much for I, I saw to much of the inconceivable.

I am now parasite, parasite. I taunt, taunt your existence for nothing is worth more than the truth.

And I shall relish in this oh so bittersweet illusion.

_ next draft _

Restless.. restless I remain.
The eyes cannot rest, rest and blissfully close off from the world. False world, world made up from useless shells.

Empty, empty I feel. So, so hollow I am.

"D0 Y0U 3V3R [HIT AND MISS] TH3 T[SWEET AND SALTY]45T3 OF [NUTRITIONAL VALUE FOR 8.99] ?" The annoying media pop up asked once, once when we were forced bellow in the pocket of the heroes.

Hunger, hunger I didn't think I knew. Cravings are pointless when every feel, feel is illusionary. But hunger can take many forms. Forms of envy and greed, or even of lust and pride. Such simple, simple minded things like the mailman chose to feel.
Hunger. I hunger for something real. Tangible to the senses of the ones above, ones under the bright side.

Chapter Text

Dance and twirl, in the dark streets of Castle Town. Spamton is inebriated with the sweet burn of battery acid while Jevil is just enjoying the harsh cold air of the night, singing and dancing with his puppet friend. Twirling, dancing, going round and round. Spamton follows the ever evolving cadence of the steps, blissed with the right amount of acid to not make him sick but enough to make him loopy and sappy. Spamton should not trust the jester with his state. This prankster could do something drastic, be it innocent or downright malevolent. But his judgement is none the wiser in this state. He feels happy enough to continue this walking dance in the dark of the night.
Jevil just sings notes, dancing and twirling still. Keeping the puppet near to dance with him.

Jevil makes it look so easy, to dance and dance and dance.

Jevil's presence feels almost comforting. He is still that impish clown, but he looks less cold. Comfortable enough to not feel overwhelming, less mean and more teasing. Jevil doesn't seem to mind the less reactive salesman. He just follows his lead, not questioning the steps. It looks as if Spamton is leading the dance with where his hands touch the jester, but it is only an illusion as the clown leads the puppet. A semblance of control that the puppet needs to feel confident and comfortable enough to continue this little display.

Spamton does know how to dance mind you, but in this state mistakes are easier. Plus, Jevil doesn't dance like normal people no, no this pain in the ass loves to just make up some moves on the spot. Full improvisation based with spins and ever so fast steps.
Jevil doesn't mind if Spamton trips, he is there to make it look intentional by making them spin.
Spamton gains much more confidence by each step, growing bold enough to break the illusion and taking the lead for some moves.

Jevil let's him.

Jevil doesn't care who leads, who's in control, he dances to the imaginary song he sings ever so loudly.
At some point the music can be heard. Instruments appearing out of thin air.
Playing the same song and bits on loop.

Jevil's magic transforms the place, changing sizes, colors, and even shapes.
Lights are warmer and brighter.

Spamton cannot help but feel bolder and try to gain more and more control over the steps. He enjoys the way Jevil lets him lead them both to a faster dance. In his state, he even tries to spin Jevil up in the air. His rationality screams at the back of his mind that he is no longer able to do some heavy lifts like he used to, and that Jevil is bigger than him to begin with. To his surprise though, Jevil weights nothing. Jevil. Weights. Nothing. A sudden panic takes him, gripping his dance partner closer to him. Trying to feel if he really is there or to keep him on the ground to make sure he doesn't float away, he doesn't know. But Jevil is there and none the wiser, keeps dancing. Taking back the lead when the puppet went rigid against him. He liked going in the air. So he does just that he spins Spamton on the ground while he floats around. Keeping the puppet steady. A tilt of mischief tempts him to pull at the left over strings. He isn't against some animosity in their little back and forth. But the puppet pulls him down before the idea settles. Taking back the lead, Spamton regains some confidence even if the paranoia of Jevil evaporating in the air remains at the back of his mind. The trumpets and violins are still going, slowing down and going faster to the tempo of their steps. The dance is almost over, in Spamton's mind at least. It feels like they've been doing it forever. But he doesn't mind, he even feels mournful that it has to end.

He wants to spin the jester more, go faster in their steps and slower in time.
He wants to continue to appreciate the warmth of their bodies.
He wants to look at the jesters joyful expressions more. Not an ounce of malice seen between the lines of his smile and the crease of his eyes.

When the end is near, Spamton feels very bold and much like his past egotistical self. Taking Jevil in a spin to dip him. Jevil isn't surprised, he was even wondering when the salesman was gonna do something as sappy as this. It is funny if not endearing how the puppet dips him. The height difference doesn't help the strange display, but at least Jevil doesn't even weigh a couple of stargrapes so Spamton at least saves the illusion of having the dominant hand in the duo by not dropping the jester. Jevil just laughs, his usual mocking laugh sounds clearer.
Spamton is having fun. It has been so long since he was able to let loose like that. To just go with the flow of the night.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, fun was meant to be rough. To be violent. And that is just how it goes. Someone might or might not get hurt, but the fun will go on.

And that was the thing in this world, people might even care less if you get hurt. The horrified faces, the screams of utter terror. It's all anyone could need to get a laugh.
No matter how wrong it goes.

Spamton learned this lesson well, many times, over and over again and again. Yet somehow, he cannot seem to learn. He'd bite the digits of his plastic based hands out of nervousness and frustration.
He knew better, he shoul've.

Yet, here he is, again. The clown nearing him with a growing manic smile. He didn't even do anything, none of them talked! Why is he acting up now?! The plastic marionette was internally panicking while thinking up solutions on how to avoid any on coming pranks or worse, attacks. The silence was palpable, for Spamton that is.
The jester was only approaching as non chalantly as you can imagine Jevil can. Which looked like a stalking predator without a calculating look pondering how to off it's prey in a snap of its jaw.

Terrified out of his minf from all the tention and the painstinkly slow walking from the other party, Spamton digs in his pockets. Looking for any useful item to distract the eerie imp stalking closer and closer and closer and closERR!

"You seem delightfully panicked, panicked from lil' old me? Why fear not puppet, puppet for I have a request to cure the boredom of this loud silence! I have been awake long enough, enough to-
L3MM3 ST0P U [UV FOR YOUR YURI] R1111GHT TH3R3 YOUUUUU [FREAKY THING!]!! I-I D0 N0T W15H T0 PL4Y [ PLAY Y/ N/]!"

That seemed to stop the jester in his tracks, he was close enough to tower over the other. Spamton, still struggling with his pockets, finally finds something that could be useful! He presents it to the other as if he was holding a weapon, an unusual one at that since it was a rubix cube. At that Jevil smiles wider, reaching for the rubix cube. Spamton who deflated at first, thinking it was an ad weapon and not a puzzle that he pulled out to defend himself against the threat, was easing up while watching the jester just carefully taking the cube from his hand without even letting their fingers bump. While carefully watching the jester, Spamton wondered and not for the first time over the years he knew the Kaard citizen, how he could manage to make his movements wide and graceful enough to look coregraphed yet still remaining eerily unatural. He snapped out of his trance when the jester violently put both his hands on the cube, twisting it forcefully into awkward angles where it shouldn't be able to turn only to end up tearing it up. Sending little cubic pieces flying, slowly. Why is it slow?

"What a curious new game, game you offer me to play! But I shall play it with you, you who gave no rules for a newfound playground!" Jevil anounces, floating above with the pieces of the once rubix cube. Pieces who were once so small, became bigger. Bad. Very bad.
"How about we play a game of colors and platforms, platforms leading to different paths and therefore different results!" The pieces flew around, constructing a path leading to different paths with different obstacles. "Be careful, careful for the first one who reassembles every colored faces together wins!"

How. How can Spamton litterally not do anything, and still get bothered by this nonesensical loose canon! No matter, he either plays and get hurt, or not play and get something worse to deal with. He proceeds to step up the first cube and start after Jevil gives the signal.

His useless body doesn't help with all the jumping and running and dogdging. His already chipped boddy getting more faulty the farther he goes. Trying his best to assembles all the colors after one and another. He takes a little break from the running to check on his progress, nearly one done! He puffs up proudly, looking towards the blue based jester, only to feel baffled by the sheer lack of progress on any color. All sides having one to three colors max! What an idiot! one color is easier to get first then trying to get them all at once! This game is easy after all! His ego started deflating when he finally catches the card going through every path like a simple walk in the park, sometimes not even bothering dodge! Masochist- Spamton barely dodges a cube flying his way, that could've knocked him off and out of his progress! He turns to look where it came from only to lock eyes with the stary void that serves as Jevil's eyes. Fuming from the clear attack, Spamton flips the jester off, continuing onto another path.

After what felt like an exhastingly long time, Spamton checks once again at his progress, he is two faces in! He was slower after the jester's continuous assaults but he was still making progress! Smug with pride, he checks once more at the jester, only to see that even if he still doesn't have one entire face of the cube he managed to get almost all! WHAT!?