joestars
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Shit product. Damaged goods. Bad for the company image, and even worse for a sales pitch — or hell, a sale at all. Broken, defective, useless, kaput. Use any word you’d like because Spamton’s used to it all. Heard it from the first moment he woke up with working legs and barely working anything else at all. Sometimes, he’s not even sure why they kept him around after they made the others. Perfected everyone else with the knowledge of their previous mistake. Singular. Y’know, the one which they still paraded, poked and prodded at. Doing all of that while knowing there was a working brain in there, comprehending every insult thrown out his way; all with the same clinical detachment under the veneer of marketing sweettalk and the hopes of more investment money. What a joke his life’s been. He was never going to be a release candidate. The gold standard. Whatever they want to call it. He can't be bothered learning all the jargon, even if his life is in sales. Technically.
It's why he finds his way here every Sunday nowadays, nine sharp ‘cause that’s when Tenna’s busy scriptwriting and he’s got the handy excuse of religion. As if he didn’t already meet his own maker and get rejected.
Series
- Part 2 of lightner cinematic universe
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Tenna still feels a prickle of shame when he remembers all the paystubs he failed to fulfill, even after he auctioned off everything in the studio. And yeah, maybe it’s not exactly because he didn’t fulfill his promises, and mostly because the final piece of publicity he got was less than positive when it covered all the particulars of his… business practices. To put it mildly, ‘Mr. SCAM Tenna?’ painted him in a rather bad light. Besides, he had never been the real scammer prowling the streets. If they'd wanted a better pun and a proper target for their witch-hunt, they could've gone with: ‘SCAMTON G. SP—
Oh well, it's not like there’s a lot of people who’d recognise Tenna these days. Every few months, he gets a cheque in the mail for his residuals; an extremely humbling reminder that hardly anyone knows his name or watches his show anymore. Not only does he live in the middle of nowhere — no offence, kind of — but he’s retired his suit, retired his brand, retired his everything, and traded it in for sweaters and vests instead. The closest he gets to reliving his crumbled stardom is whenever he’s addressed as Mr. Tenna while directing the school’s yearly musical.
Series
- Part 4 of Spamtenna Week 2025
- Part 1 of lightner cinematic universe
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What’s he doing?
It’s a rare sight to see him spending the night with anyone. The entire night, that is. Spamton takes pride in his ability to hoof it and book it the first chance he gets. Doesn’t matter who’s bed it is he’s found himself in, what dingy hotel room or backseat of a car — it’s all the same to him. Staying over creates expectations, and expectations make things messy and damn, his life is messy enough as is. Last thing he needs is someone hanging onto his every word and calling his cell at all hours of the day. He’s already got that all bundled into the ticking timebomb he calls his business partner. Coincidentally, it’s Tenna’s place he’s crashing at. A fact that’s doing nothing to help keep the boundaries he’s set in place, y’know, set.
Series
- Part 3 of Spamtenna Week 2025
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Then, he pushes Tenna back roughly — causing the top of his head to scrape along the interior — and slams his foot on the pedal. If this is Spamton’s way of getting them to their destination faster, he’d rather they don’t get there at all. Which, well, considering the speed they’re going at? That seems like the most likely outcome. Clutching onto the now-miniscule grab handle, he tries to settle down because he’s got his knees pinned to his chest and his back pressed up against the rooftop. The audacity he has to suggest that. Tenna, jealous? Jealous? Oh God, maybe Spamton would be better off doing comedy. They should revive Lightner Night Live just for him, because everything he says is a joke. As if. Tenna could care less about how he spends his spare time.
Series
- Part 2 of Spamtenna Week 2025
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Maybe having an in-house bar isn’t such a good idea anymore. By now, Tenna can’t count how many times he’s embarrassed himself in front of his staff. It’s not a good look. It wasn’t a good look the first time around but now it’s a pattern, and patterns mean problems, and Tenna has enough of those already. The last thing he needs are his employees questioning his authority or worse, thinking Spamton is the reasonable one out of the two. They have no idea the things Spamton does in the privacy of his own office. Or home. Or Hell, even out in public. It’s just the smug bastard knows how to play it smooth. But Tenna will show them. He’ll show them all. Eventually. He’ll show ‘em something, alright. Not sure what. Oh, God – the floor is not his friend at the moment. Tenna nearly goes tumbling straight into it, his feet tripping over nothing, but finds a wall to lean on instead. It doesn’t help that he’s got his arms full of, well, Spamton.
Series
- Part 1 of Spamtenna Week 2025
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Spamton scooped up the power cable, puffing out a breath and rolling his shoulders as he eyed the outlet on the wall. The moment of truth. In one swift motion, he knelt and pushed the plug into the outlet, turning and feeling along the casing beneath the screen for the power button. A springy click… and then his ears filled with the familiar high-pitched electric whine of a working CRT.
Oh, yeah. That’s the ticket.
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A dead man walking, Spamton brings home an old TV and turns his world on its head.
Bookmarked by joestars
10 Oct 2025
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It wasn’t that Spamton was delicate— he wasn’t. He was anything but. Rough and tumble, eager to spat; he got in more trouble than a censor on a Saturday night and had a missing tooth to prove it (though he absolutely hated it being pointed out). It was just… He was code and pixels and mumbo-jumbo Tenna didn’t care to understand while Tenna himself was sturdy, thick plastic and glass and silicone and copper wiring. He could be repaired, but how in the world do you fix broken code? It was so far out of Tenna’s wheelhouse it was a home run clear out of the park. ‘I don’t want to break him’, Tenna thought desperately, though it still made his stomach flip to think about.
or; spamton wants tenna to relax and gets far more than he bargained for
Bookmarked by joestars
30 Sep 2025
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This is a piece inspired by the fic Static in my head by Joestars
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нравится тебе это или нет (продолжай говорить) by Cold_Chrome
Fandoms: Deltarune (Video Game)
27 Jul 2025
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И вот он здесь. Сидит в своём тесном кабинете, смотрит на лицо Спамтона на постере, и ему невыносимо хочется выкурить сигарету, а потом ещё одну, настолько прочно его бизнес-партнёр поселился в его мыслях.
Ощущая как дым проходит через его вентиляционную систему, Тенна крутит на пальце один из новых брелоков. Упс. Безделушка отлетает в сторону и скользит по столу, пока не врезается в кучу таких же. Весь стол ими завален, миниатюрные версии двух бизнес-партнёров на роскошном авто смотрят на него с презрением. Если отвести взгляд, может начать казаться, что куча пластика на столе растёт как на дрожжах. Он прекрасно помнит ту фотосессию. Помнит ругань перед её началом, ругань во время съёмки, ругань по поводу того, кто где должен стоять и его "Ант, убери свои [грабли] с капота". Разумеется, прежде чем сдать арендованную машину обратно, они жарко потрахались на переднем сиденье – молча, будто потратили весь свой лимит слов на препирательства до этого.
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Ashura can read and write in several languages that Koveras is not familiar with, and Koveras can wield a blade like nobody's business, so it seems that these two strangers in Candlekeep might be able to teach each other a thing or two. Of course it soon becomes obvious that they aren't strangers at all.
Bookmarked by joestars
06 Jan 2025