Banner by Sketchaquil. Previously broadcastcorrupted. K, she/her, chronic yumeshipper. Adult. Confusing aroace mess. 18+ because I sometimes post/interact with suggestive content. Defernull Tenna's biggest fan (and affectionate hater). I make art and put way too much effort and worldbuilding into my stories instead of learning something useful like taxes.
Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight.
I'm K, chronic yumeshipper who's madly in love with the edgy version of Tenna Deltarune. I'm chill about fellow yumeshippers with him, so feel free to interact (I encourage it, in fact. Please be unhealthy about him with me). I'm also chill with multishippers so long as you aren't one of those who gets all toxic fandom about it. I'm just doing this for fun and a way to cope with the big scary world.
"Broadcast Corrupted" is a general AU starring my sona K and Defernull Tenna. K works as a security guard for TV Time, and on the side develops a messy relationship with the big bad TV boss.
I am also sort of a general Defernull fan blog, but you ARE going to see my dragon girl sona everywhere. Again, yumeship blog. If you don't enjoy that, please keep it to yourself and just block my blog.
Minors, keep your distance. I don't post anything genuinely explicit, but I do post suggestive content/occasional kink. It's for your safety and my comfort. I'm not going to go out of my way to check every single account that interacts with my blog, but I will be cautious about direct interactions (comments and DMs)
Proship DNI. Generally just be a decent human being and we'll get along fine.
All art pieces are tagged with "#bc commercial break"
All asks are tagged as "#bc fanmail"
Reblogs are under "#and now a word from our sponsors"
SIGNAL LOST MASTERLIST:
You can also find my other written work for Freakshow on AO3 here!
Tag: "#freakshow signal lost"
Signal Lost is a fic project, taking place in a more Deltarune based universe. It's an alternate take on Freakshow, featuring a much more unstable Defernull Tenna, and an extremely lonely K who barely has her life together.
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
PART 5
PART 6
PART 7
PART 8
PART 9
PART 10
PART 11
PART 12
PART 13
Chapter 14 onward is over on AO3 in order to make it easier on myself and others. You can find it here
I had the honor of designing NEO!Spamton for @tvgoop ‘s AND @arcadekarpett ‘s Spiritual Syndication AU, in this au, he uses a statue depicting the lightner (you) to make himself a NEW BODY, ofc that’s what causes the church to kick him out. Because impersonating their god is a BIG no no
His skeleton is made of rebar and his body is the cement that makes your statue, as well as a sculpted pair of wings.
He also wears a loincloth and his cunty boots remain
I can't believe I haven't shared any of my Targetta and Null Spam stuff from Signal lost. Well now I can!! Take an art dump of both of them because I said so
Your friends said something was wrong with that television. It appearing after yours broke down was too convenient. A CRT, in near-perfect condition, near your house. None of your neighbors know where it came from, and it's not like any of you have security cameras to check that way.
Large, dark, one antenna slightly bent, with two semicircles between them. It won't be able to read digital signals, but you want to use it for old video games anyway. You take it in, despite one friend insisting that it's cursed, and to get rid of it instead.
It's fine at first, perfect for your gaming plans. Sure, there's a diagonal scratch marring the screen, and sometimes it briefly loses signal, but you don't mind a bit of temper. An old TV is going to have quirks.
Your worried friend finds a series of stories involving a similar TV, with each person ending up dead in strange and contorted ways. You brush them off as creepypasta, stories for horror.
Then, somehow, the TV starts picking up channels. Randomly, rarely, but you write it off as someone playing with analog signals and its antennae are strong enough to pick them up. Old show fragments. Silly cartoon bites. A black and white spiral. You don't pay attention to the fragments being of someone claiming another. You don't realize the cartoon bits are all incredibly violent. You forget the spiral.
Your mind slowly starts fogging. You tell your friends that you're getting sick, and won't be able to join them. You get condolences, at first. Then concern, especially from the friends who don't like your TV. Finally, worry, as you stop checking your phone entirely.
You don't remember work. You don't remember taking care of yourself. All you remember is watching the old CRT, sometimes playing games, sometimes channel surfing to see what fragments pop up. The spiral appears more often.
Your dreams get strange. A studio, large, dark, imposing. Staff members that take one look at you and fade away. At first, you get scared in your dreams, try to escape. The tall man in a dark suit, with your TV for his head, he flips to the spirals and your desire to leave melts away.
A friend is at your door, worried about you. It's been a long time since you checked in with them. You tell your friend that you're still feeling poorly, but you'll be fine soon. The friend believes you, and leaves.
The next friend barges in and drags you out. You develop shivers, and the friend quickly takes you back home.
The third friend is the paranoid one. They unplug the TV, try and force you out as well. You two get into a fight, you don't remember why. You don't remember plugging the CRT back in.
In your dreams, things become less dreamlike and more real. The large man uses the spirals to keep you docile. You can feel his hands on your arms, puppeting you through a dance. You can smell, faintly, the cigars he smokes.
Your sense of which is reality and which is dream blurs. The studio feels more real by the hour, while home and your friends feel more like a dream. Your resistance becomes rare, and faint. The spiral keeps you calm, your mind a fog.
The spiral fogging your brain releases you when you're curled up in his bed, with him next to you, one hand protectively over you. Or perhaps keeping you in place. You realize then, too late, that your one friend was right. You're trapped now, with no way of getting home.
He claims you as his in as many ways as you willingly let him the first night your mind is clear. Slowly, he claims you as his in more ways, as you give up entirely on being anything but his puppet, his toy, his doll. He no longer needs the spiral to control you, you go to him yourself.
You forget what's willing and what is not. It all becomes the same to you.
Your friends attempt an intervention, only to find you missing. Your home is empty, everything clearly sold off at some point, except for the TV. It sits in the middle of what had been your living space, untouched. You are nowhere to be found. Your name and appearance gets added to the list involving people and the connecting television.
Thoughts on my sona (it can be a stand in for a reader if you wish) and DN!Tenna under the spell of TV magic, making a world unlike the busy and dark one he's used to. Rambles pulled directly from a discord server, atm less directly about him being dragonlike and more about him protecting her like one in a setting unlike any he's played a role in before.
cw for references to past trauma. The sona dislikes her body.
She wakes up and there's morning light streaming in through the window-- alien to her for a while now since his realm seems to be eternally dark. She wakes up in a fluffy bed in a spacious nook in a tower. Flowers grow in the cracks of the stone and the windows are open, fluttering pale curtains as butterflies wander in and out at their leisure. She walks out to the balcony as a shadow begins to cast in despite no clouds in the sky. It's Null, leaning as he stands tall-- taller than usual-- with his back to the building and his arms crossed. There's something on his head that she can't quite make out with this angle and shadowing light
"Tenna?"
He turns around, smiling at the sight of her-- much more freely than she's used to. "There she is. The princess is awake. How was your sleep?"
She walks closer, realizing that the window is actually to the floor-- openable like doors to a balcony. She steps onto it; it's perfect height for him to curl his clawed fingers over the railing and rest his chin level with her
She gets a better look at his head. He still has the curved amplifiers, but his regular antenna have been replaced with horns. "What happened…?" she asks, neglecting his question. His teeth look especially sharp as he answers eagerly.
"Every princess in a tower needs a dragon, don't they?"
They both remember last night. A lot had happened. She had finally let go, screamed and flailed her arms and been angry. It was wonderful to him…and it was terrifying. It was a catalyst for a change of pace, even if it wouldn't last forever.
Just the two of them, where the only appearances they have to keep up are the ones they choose for each other.
She's still getting used to the role, however, half asleep and just waking up into it. The princess's frilled nightgown sleeves raise to hold her hands to her chest, and he observes her observing the new world. Bright…quiet but not silent, chirping of birds and the soft chorus of bugs. It wasn't quite his style, but he can tolerate it-- if it's for her. My, what beautiful eyes she has, a perfect curve to her nose as it turns in profile to look up her new walls and towards the sun. He could stare forever.
…Her lashes flutter a few blinks…and she gives him a rarity: an unconscious smile. "I missed this." Nature, that is. "You really did all this…for me?"
"As any princess deserves," he replies. She's so sweet it's predictable; he's had that answer in his pocket waiting and ready to go since he came up with the whole thing. "Return at your leisure, my lady." He turns back around. Underneath the arms behind his back is his tail, normally tied and hidden but now flicking with a relaxed pace. "There's nowhere to be except where you wish to go."
She stands at the balcony for a moment longer as he returns to his post. He's just standing there, an ease in his shoulders and a small tap in his left foot, but she makes no mistake of the intent: he's standing guard.
She is safe.
And protected.
And treasured.
Exactly as she should have been all those times before. Not hurt again…never again.
Just as she begins to go inside, he calls over his shoulder: "Oh, one more thing. I picked out your clothes this morning. Better suited for you than the rags from yesterday." As if she's worn anything that hasn't crossed under his nose first.
Cautious but excited, she closes the door and looks around. It really is like the daydream of a storybook princess. Flowerpots and vines crawl around vintage furniture embellished with fainted paintings. The smell of candlesmoke wafts to her as they're snuffed, as if by the magic of the sunrise. She takes a few steps forward and looks down past her toes; a spiraling staircase leads down to another room, and all the smells coming from it-- bread, fruit, flowers, juice-- remind her of the color orange, same one that glistened into her window. It looked so beautiful against his horns.
She looks over her shoulder to him, and he's gone. Right…she has to get ready, too.
Null can see the shape of her, the shadow cast against the rocky slope beside him, as she finds the clothes laid out for her and undresses.
─── ⊹˙₊˚ ˚⋆˙･｡ﾟ.☆. ﾟ. ⋆˙₊˚ ₊˚⊹───
The dragon walks alongside the princess wherever she goes. He sits next to her in the grass as she lays down in it, looking at the sunshine that he made with his own magic. She smiles in ways he hasn't seen before, yes…but he's changing too. He hasn't had time to himself, not like this. vulnerable and able to be off guard. His shoulders relax more and more each day, and he begins to feel like his old self-- before everything went wrong and he had to change lest the cruel world change him first. It scares him, and he wants to retreat, and in a way he does. He spends more moments with his back to her, guarding against an evil that logically will never come and yet he wishes it would. It's easier to fight things you can see. He watches the sun set on her tower, orange light cast over his sitting knees, and he begins to understand why someone could enjoy it as she does. Mister Midnight has met his match.
Morning… His morning…
─── ⊹˙₊˚ ˚⋆˙･｡ﾟ.☆. ﾟ. ⋆˙₊˚ ₊˚⊹───
She loves feeling beautiful, but it scares her, too. She's not pretty; she knows she isn't. She carries herself as two different people. The first is the one who doesn't think. She's a little girl dressed in clothes only princesses get to wear, silks and laces and and frills in different colors and shapes. But then she sees herself-- or simply feels her own body against the seams of the fabric around her-- and she remembers that these are not meant for someone like her. She appreciates his kindness-- they are all very gorgeous clothes--…but it's hard to appreciate it fully when it feels like it's on the wrong body.
One day, it's raining. It's just a little gray outside, and the drops are thin and light as not to frighten but refresh. This is of Null's own design; he needs to figure this out.
"Is your wardrobe uncomfortable, my princess?"
She looks up from the recipe book in her hands. The ceiling is low so even shrunken, Null's horns nearly touch it as he crouches and holds his legs. He recognizes now the manner in which her eyes blink and look down; she's thinking, in that corner of her brain that makes her sugarcoat whatever is wrong. Instead of saying what he wants (that he can take the insult) he decides to practice his restraint. He's rewarded, as she gradually begins to turn her head side to side.
"No… They're all lovely."
"What is it then? It isn't nothing."
Her hands unconsciously grip the apron covering her pale skirt. "I…I just…" A smile, big and forced and sad. "I'm not used to things like this."
His lip purses ever so slightly at the unsettling answer. He takes advantage of her looking at him, a faint spiral and hum emanating from his screen. "Tell me why."
Her smile remains, straining, and a tear falls from one eye. "I'm not pretty enough."
The dishes on the table rattle as he hits his fist on the floor, his chest rising and falling as he tries to contain himself. It's too late. Her expression is scared and she's looking at the floor. "Sorry-- just--" He swallows, and his voice is smoother. "Look at me. Please."
…She obeys, hesitant but obedient. "Good girl. There's my princess."
There's nothing subtle about his hypnosis anymore. It's his whole screen, not even a mouth to move as he speaks. His hands reach out, palms and claws up, and after a long second, she rests her hands on them. It's a touch so gentle it nearly makes him want to cry.
"There's not a single inch of you inside and out that doesn't radiate," he says, and it goes straight into her mind and settles at the seat of her soul. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met." The tears begin to get thick at the corners of her eyes, but he's not done. "You are so much more than what you think you are. You're sweet…thoughtful…special beyond compare." He visibly swallows, reaching in to a space of his heart he normally avoids. "I look at you and I think that's what sight is for. You…that's what life is about."
His thumbs stroke the back of her hands, comforting the shaking lightner.
"I won't accept you thinking so little of my greatest treasure," the dragon says. "You've tamed me, and I'm too hard to get rid of."
─── ⊹˙₊˚ ˚⋆˙･｡ﾟ.☆. ﾟ. ⋆˙₊˚ ₊˚⊹───
That night, or perhaps another, she's preparing for bed and he's standing there, just a bit taller than an average man's height. He's folded his arms and watching the window, keeping watch just like he's promised this whole time. A thought passes her mind. "You can shrink, too? Smaller than your usual size?"
…
He eventually concedes. "Yeah." His tail flicks. "I don't usually need to."
"So you can get so small you could--" She imagines it, her hands cupping an invisible shape not bigger than a softball. He snorts, teeth poking out of the corner of a small smirk.
"Silly, yeah."
"I bet it'd feel so nice to be that small. You know…when I'm that small against you…it feels so good."
There's a bit of a rainbow on his cheeks and a quarter of an inch more air above his head than there was a second ago.
"I…like being held like that," she continues. "It's still…raining outside. Can I-- return the favor?"
"…You really want it that bad?" he asks under his breath, vulnerable again.
"If that's okay."
He snorts again. "Well now I have to," he jokes.
Before she knows it, he's shrinking the closer he gets, until he's standing on the end of her bed, the size difference comparable to when he's his usual size, just in reverse.
She holds him to her chest like a teddy bear, so soft and warm and loving…and the stiff man begins to melt.
Blink. Blink. Blink…
…
He wakes up, tiny monitor on a big pillow, blanket heavy across his chest. His brow furrows and unfurrows, and then he turns to the side and sees her-- back to him, leaning against the mattress as she sits on the floor, standing guard just like he has for her all these days and nights.
He stares a long moment before feeling compelled to get up, his shape growing as he crawls up and sits next to her on the floorboards, about her size. She's asleep. He half chuckles; shitty job keeping watch.
…
His smile grows fond. He's not used to quiet moments yet, but they've begin to infect him. Make him feel…fuller than he'd be without them. He reaches forward to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and her eyes open.
She's silent with disbelief and something else as she stares at what she wakes up to, an adoring expression and an ease he's always lacked.
"My morning…" he whispers under his breath, and he leans forward and rests his cheek on hers before turning…to kiss it.
It's not the first time a kiss has happened. He's taken her hand while kneeling before and done so, as one often does for royalty. But then she took his hand in turn and kissed it as if it was an exchange, and something's changed in him ever since.
Her sleepy mind drags worries along, not full thoughts but feelings. Worries of disappointment. Of not being what she'd like to be to him. Of being pitied. But…they all melt away.
Nothing more happens than he takes her into his arms and holds her close for the rest of the night.
Over time, it happens again. He finds himself close, his hands on her body, and so much in his heart all he can do is press his lips wherever they first reach. Her fear begins to melt. He's not asking anything of her. There's no bravado, teasing, taunting. It dawns on her that he just feels…safe.
YOUR SONA IS SOOOO COOL! where did u come up with her design?
WAAAAH THANK YOU ANON!!!
K has been with me for quite a long time now, though she's gone through a lot of evolutions and redesigns through the years. That's not even mentioning how often I've tweaked her to fit into universes for yumeship design.
Technically, an ex friend helped design her (sadly we fell out and no longer speak to each other), but I kept K and gave her more meaning to her design to make her truly mine.
I've always had a fascination with dragons, and how often they're depicted as the "evil monster" who needs to be slain. I've also always loved hybrid characters. There's a real sense of isolation and "otherness" to K that I hope to communicate in how I write and draw her. She masks it with a facade of confidence, but deep down, she feels misunderstood and isolated on every front. She can't fit in anywhere because she's not human enough, not dragon enough, not anything enough for one group to truly accept her. It's an internalized struggle of "I am an evil beast who deserves to be alone" at all times with her.
You can kinda see why I'm so crazy about Defernull Tenna just from that description alone too LMAO
Everything else from K is kinda drawn from some of my own appearance (her cheek mole, her muffin top, etc). She's a heavily oc-ified sona, but she is still a sona all the same.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Lord it's been a while, hasn't it? My life's been exploding so I haven't had the brain power to write as much. But I promise I haven't forgotten Signal Lost in the slightest!
