archiveofourown.org/works/403493... Jevil's just a wacky little guy.
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Spamton-Chan's Daily Life - Chapter 378 - CatBountry - Deltarune (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
![Spamton is in his boxers, setting down a bong on a nightstand.
Kris, offscreen: The bandages are off.
Spamton: LET'S SEE THE [Not Tits] MY [Hardly Workin'] PAID FOR, KID!!
Kris steps into the room, shedding their robe, showing off a healed mastectomy. Their chest is flat, and the scars on their pectorals are purposefully jagged.
Kris: What do you think?
Spamton, eyes wide as he stares: I....... I THINK....... Y0U LOOK.....
Spamton, his eyes welling up with happy tears: LIKE [A Million] [SMACKEROOS!!] SW33T [[ANGEL]]
Kris, one eye visible: Yeah? You think so?
Spamton, reaching for their chest: [SAY "I DO!"] I REALLY REALLY REELY DO.
Spamton traces their scares with his fingertips: THE [Greased Lightning] BOLTS ARE A [Symbol Of] YOUR [Individuality And] YOU'RE [Belief in Personal] [FREEDOM MOTIF.]
Spamton rests his head against Kris' chest in reverence: IT MUST [Wouldn't it be nice] TO HAVE A BODY THAT'S MORE [SO You!]
Kris: It feels nice, yeah.
Spamton, his glasses turning to static, the blissful expression on his face fading: SO NICE 2 HAVE A [Be Somebody] THAT FEELS [No Place Like Home] SP.... SP [Isn't She Lovely]..... [REPAIR]d [MAN, MAN, MAN, MAN.] NOT... [Broken Electronics.]
Kris wraps their arms around Spamton, pulling him in close in a tight embrace, as Spamton snaps out of his sadness.
Kris, holding Spamton tight, looking down at the floor between their legs: It's okay... you're not broken... you just can't... stay... BIG.
Kris is now visible from behind as Spamton looks up at the damaged ceiling above them.
Kris: Especially after what you did to the ceiling last time.
Spamton, huffy: THAT'S MY [Such Great Heights] [Affirming Care] YA KNOW.
Kris: Maybe if you weren't eight feet tall with wings.
Spamton: *SIGN* I KNOW. STUPID [#$?!*☆] CEILINGS.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:xfuuc5peswpzegneac7gckhp/bafkreib5jgeaenpmfmukcw5vzzg5q3ob7t4rs6pw7s2o3e5gpsonlbi4py)
![Kris hold their hand over the Soul.
Soul: Remember my rules. You need me, so you better behave... I would want to see either of you get hurt, after all. <3
Kris rips the Soul from their chest. It's still attached by a string. Kris puts a metal wastebasket over the Soul, trapping it. Kris glares at it.
Soul: HEY!
Soul: Let me out, you little brat! I'll kill you.
Kris looks back over their shoulder. "Then do it already."
Cut to Spamton, snorting lines of a powder off of a coffee table.
Spamton, pupils dilated, swinging his fist with enthusiasm: OH [SWEET MAMA] THAT'S THE [Top Quality Product!]
Kris walks into frame, looking down as Spamton, who gestures towards the lines.
Spamton: O OH! KRIS!!1 MY [Number1Favorite Customer!] You wanna do some [Special K?]
Kris stares at Spamton with wide eyes.
Spamton: ... KRIS???
Kris's face contorts as they start crying.
Spamton: ... KRIS?!! WHAT'S [[EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER]]?
Kris, embracing Spamton, sobbing: AAAUUUGGHHH BAW HAW HAW HUH BWUH HUH HUH HUUUUH...
Kris pulls back, their expression pained: I'M SAW- *Hic* I'M SAW- I SAW- I'M SAWWWRRRY!
Spamton, still clearly high: SORRY FOR [What What?]
Kris: EEHHHVREEETHIIIING!
Spamton holds Kris by their chin, tilting their head back as Kris stares at him with tears in their eyes.
Spamton: OH "Sweet Child O' Mine]....
Close-up of Spamton with his hand on his chest, with a drug-enhanced expression of adoration: IT'S [Okie-Dokie] OF COURSE I [Forgive and Forget] YOU. I'M [[LOVE]] YOU.
Kris, their face held by both of Spamton's hands: You don't understand-
Spamton: [Off-Course] I UNDERSTAND. YOU'VE BEEN THRU SO [Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder]
Spamton holds up his index finger, pupils still blown out, showing that his oversized t-shirt reads "CLASS OF 1997": I [Know What You NEED]! A [Night Out On The Town]!! WHATEVER YOU WANNA [Do And Do It Now!]
Kris, slumping over: I wanna play the piano.
Spamton: THEN LET'S [Tickle the Ivories] PIANO M[They/Them]!](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:xfuuc5peswpzegneac7gckhp/bafkreigmtficvvuveyq5duvmsp4o4ttouopiokh7oorvrdgw7xlq6mqvry)
![Exterior of a music store called "MAKE MINE MUSIC: INSTRUMENTS, LESSONS AND MORE!" Kris and Spamton enter and the bell over the door rings.
Spamton: YOU WANT [Piano Basics Online Tutorial?]
Kris: Don't need 'em.
Spamton: AREN'T YOU [Get Confident, Stupid!]
Kris, looking into the distance: I used to play. Before I met you.
Spamton, looking up at Kris in surprise: YOU NEVER [Tell 'Em] ME THAT.
Kris: I don't talk about myself much. Easier that way.
A retail worker with glasses and a mop of thick, curly hair approaches them. His nametag reads "DAVE"
Dave: You need help finding anything?
Kris: You got a piano?
Dave: Sure do!
Dave gestures towards an upright piano: We just got this Yamaha P22d! Lightly used, just tuned her up. Nice, huh?
Kris looks at a grand piano: ... What about this one?
Dave: Oh, the baby grand? You wanna try it out?
Kris takes a seat on the bench, and places their hands on the keys: ... Yeah.
Kris starts to play. The music is not represented by notes, but instead colors and an abstract shape, blues and greens and purples with a spot of yellow. It has a menacing aura. Dave and Spamton listen in silence. Spamton's jaw hangs open slightly. The music trembles, curling into itself as Kris grimaces. A teardrop falls onto the piano keys between Kris' hands.
Dave: Whoa. What the hell was *that?*
Kris, failing to hold back tears: Mine. It's mine. I wrote it.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:xfuuc5peswpzegneac7gckhp/bafkreicpmgfflxj4wwnx63q3ac7lntgiircebo7jngrh7lping6tpo2lne)
![Dave, still shaken, but clearly impressed: Whoa, that was... intense.
Spamton, clapping: KRIS!!1!! THAT WAS [That's Incredible!] [Fan-Tastic]!! [A-Maze-Ing!]
Spamton approaches Kris with open arms. YOU'VE GOT THAT ["Wow!" Factor]! YOU COULD BE A [A Bright And Shining Star!] WE SHOULD GET YOU [Fire In The Booth!]
Kris, smiling, teary-eyed: ... Thanks.
Spamton, smiling: WHAT'S THE [Price Is Right] ON THIS [Sucker MCs]?
Dave: It's 20 grand.
Dave, sensing the change in Spamton's demeanor without seeing that his glasses have turned to static: It's Used. You're not gonna find one of these any cheaper. You can get the used upright for five.
Spamton, disassociating: [The Five]...
Kris, closing the cover for the keys: We can just get a keyboard. It'll be cheaper and it'll fit in the apartment.
Dave, gesturing back over his shoulder: You wanna look at our models?
Kris: ... Sure.
Cut to Kris and Spamton outside on the street. Kris is lugging a boxed keyboard over their should as Spamton walks ahead of them. They're pretty strong.
Spamton: SO UH... THAT REALLY [Crazy Eight] INTO OUR [Balanced Budget.]
Kris: We've got enough for groceries and rent.
Spamton, looking nervous: WH WHAT ABOUT OUT [Online Pharmaceutical] BUDGET??
Kris: I could start busking.
Spamton: GUESS I'LL GO BACK TO [Turning Tricks]- WAIT, WHAT??
Kris, smiling: ... It might be fun.
Kris has the keyboard set up on the floor. Their fingers graze the keys.
Kris: Finally...
Spamton: SO... DO YOU TAKE [Total Request Live]??
Kris: I could play it by ear.
Spamton: YOU KNOW [Billy Joel "Piano Man]?
Kris starts playing the opening of the song. Spamton leand against their back, closing his eyes.
Spamton: [Oh, Yeah!+] [Now That's The Stuff!]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:xfuuc5peswpzegneac7gckhp/bafkreifx7fca5uusocjkknjr5yvzs3tzt3xpyr2tbpvc367tgf77fnqrqe)
![Spamton sings along to the song up until the end of the first chorus, I don't feel like transcribing all that. He and Kris look like they're actually having fun.
Kris: Did "Trash Heap" teach you to sing like that?
Spamton: Y YOU MAEN [Mr. Ant Tenna's TV Time]??
Kris: Yeah.
Spamton, looking uncomfortable: HE, UH..... MIGHT HAVE [Showed Me The Ropes] A [Lil' Bit].... Heh.
Kris: Do you ever think you could have reconciled with him?
Spamton, smiling through gritted teeth: [Can we change the subject]?
Kris: ... Sorry.
Spamton, sweating and looking down: IT'S [Fine Wine]. JUST DON'T WANNA [Cave Dwell] ON THE PAST... NOT LIKE WE'RE GONNA [Turn Back Now] ANYWAY.
Kris, their smile gone: ... Yeah. I guess not.
Spamton: YOU [Feelin' Fine], KRIS?
Kris slams their hands onto the keys, producing a sour chord.
Kris: What do you want to do, Spamton?
Spamton: H [Huhcat.mp3]?
Kris: Anything you want. Just name it.
Spamton: ..... ANYTHING??
Kris, their smile returned: ... Anything
Spamton steeples his fingers, looking away as he ponders this. He's hesitating, until he works up the nerve to finally ask for something.
Spamton: I'D LIKE YO [Photo Finish] THAT [Name That Tune]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:xfuuc5peswpzegneac7gckhp/bafkreih6q2fjxowayhd3fuqyvmyjjkh573zbzpzw3kdjp3m7cwkynljcw4)
