@disastrouslyyours, @wanderingbateyes, @kowtownart, and @auntiemagnus and me, the group of Spamton fluff content creators who try to break their audience (and each other) with only the cutest, purest, and sometimes angstiest Spamton content.
Okay I'm gonna send a drabble idea that hopefully won't overwhelm you with fluff (no promises though). How about Spamton getting stuck in something (wall, pipe, washing machine, etc), leaving him at the mercy of whomever finds him. Maybe they'll be kind and help him out. Or not. I'm just a sucker for this trope, don't look at meeeeee
WANDER wander please you can ask me for anything at any time. I bullied the mans in this one, but if you had something different in mind…DM me let’s chat.
excuse me as i dump another 1k words on y'all
You were used to coming home and finding your eccentric roommate in a variety of strange positions. Standing on a kitchen counters trying to reach the top shelf of your cupboard, tangled in the cord to your vacuum (he was trying to recoil it after actually vacuuming), and wrapped up in a set of bed sheets (he was trying to fold the fitted ones) were just some of the examples that come to mind.
But finding him dangling from your ceiling was an entirely different ballgame.
More accurately, you arrived home to find half of him dangling from your ceiling.
“IS THAT MY [#1 Favorite Customer] I HEAR?” He calls out to you with a nervous laugh, probably having heard you open your door and gasp. Even while being (partially) a floor above you, his voice is entirely too loud.
“Spamton how did you even…” You approach him and assess the situation, unsure if you want to know the answer of how he got himself stuck until you are able to get him unstuck.
“IT’S, AHA, A FUNNY STORY.” He writhes in a pitiful attempt to free himself, legs kicking wildly in the air. “CAME UP TO THE ATTIC TO PUT SOME [Stock] IN [Storage Units For Rent], ENDED UP FALLING [Down Payment] THROUGH THE FLOOR.”
“Okay, okay, stop kicking, hang on.” You rush to grab a chair to stand on and help him before he legitimately hurts himself. Waist down squirms in front of you, and you assume that he’s mainly stuck by the wide part of his chest. Pulling him down will probably hurt him, and my ceiling, so I should aim to push him back up.
“I’m gonna try to push you back up, I think we’ll have the most luck with that.” You hear him start to protest, argue that he’s fine and that he can handle it himself, but you ignore his attempts to save his ego. You place a hand on each of his sides and dig your fingers in for stability. Spamton twists violently away from your touch, and you recoil your hands instantly.
“I’M [Capable] OF [Helping] MYSELF.” He grunts as he attempts to free himself once more, still with no success.
“Yeah, capable of helping yourself get stuck-er.” You snort. He’s so stubborn.
You once again place your hands on his sides and are sure to get a good grip, and again he lurches against you. This time, you hear what sounds like a strangled laugh coming from the salesman. Interesting. You squeeze again, a little firmer this time, and hear a definite laugh accompanied by a small don’t.
“Don’t what, Spamton?” You coo, a wicked thought forming in your mind. So stubborn, and with such an ego, someone should really take him down a peg. “Don’t try to help you? But what else are friends for?”
“I SAID I WAS FINE-” He’s interrupted by you kneading your fingers into his surprisingly soft midsection, which sends him into a fit of giggles. He attempts to swing his lower half away from you, but your grip on him is firm.
“Obviously, you’re not.” You tease, digging your fingers into his ribs. “I don’t really see what’s funny about this very serious situation, Spamton. I’m doing my best to help you out.”
“NO YOU’RE NOT!” He struggles to speak in between bouts of laughter. “YOU’RE TRYING TO [Redacted] ME!”
Redacted? “I’m 100% trying to help, see?” You let go of him and he relaxes slightly and attempts to catch his breath. “Pushing you didn’t work, so I’ll try pulling you down towards me instead.”
With a smirk on your face you’re glad he can’t see, you reach out and squeeze his thighs. He shrieks and curls his legs up, desperately trying to pull them out of your grasp. He isn’t as fortunate as you continue to prod at the soft muscle, earning glitchy giggles from your horrendously unlucky roommate. He cries out your name, followed by a please, and you’re about to take pity on him until he nearly kicks you straight in the nose.
“Oh, that’s no way to thank the only person who could even attempt to help you out of your predicament.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” He sounds genuinely unaware of his actions. You would reconsider your next move, but can’t help relishing in the way he giggles as you lightly trail your fingers along his waist and legs.
“We do not try to kick our friends in the face, Spamton.” You wrap a hand around both of his ankles and he spews out a string of wait no you’ve got the wrong guy and I’m being framed, framed I tell you! as he tries to wiggle out of your grip. “Especially when you’re so incredibly ticklish.” You scratch your free hand’s fingers over his soles and he shrieks, his whole body shaking from laughter.
Much to your surprise, he suddenly lifts himself back into the attic and you are left staring up at an almost Spamton-sized hole in your ceiling.
“Are you…you okay up there?”
He doesn’t answer you immediately, but you hear him huff and shuffle his weight.
“Are you mad at me?”
“...[Yes].”
“Aw Spam, I’m sorry.” You croon. “But I did technically help you get unstuck.”
“...I GUESS YOU’RE [Not Wrong].”
“Come down and I’ll make it up to you.”
“HOW?” You smile when you hear him perk up a bit.
“By taking you to the hardware store so we can get some drywall and putty.”
“NOT FUNNY.” You laugh and hear him move towards the trap door ladder that is the real entrance to your attic. He skitters down the ladder and sheepishly stares at the ground. “ARE YOU [Mad As A Hornet] AT ME?”
“What? No, Spam, no. This house is old, things like this happen.” You offer him a soft smile which he returns. “Get your shoes, we’re going on an adventure.” As he scurries off you add, “And bring your wallet, you’re paying for this.”
Hey friend! Sorry if you are busy, but I have a drabble request. I've been sitting here in bed feeling icky, but had a comforting thought. How about Spamton looing after a sick reader? Something wholesome. Also, hope you are well!
Hi friend!! I’m doing pretty good, sorry to hear you’re feeling icky. I hope this helps you out a little, I was thrilled to see you in my inbox again. Always nice to see you around, even if for a little bit. 💜
It’s a welcome change from some of the other friends in this group who wish to bully me.
You shiver as you lie bundled up on your bed, only partially paying attention to the sitcom on TV. Several days into your mandatory rest and you were starting to get really bored- there was only so much sleeping, eating, and watching TV you could handle without driving yourself insane.
Luckily, your roommate was a surprisingly good nurse.
Spamton had been very attentive to you since you started feeling unwell, doing everything he could to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. Every hour he would insist on re-fluffing your pillows, making sure you were still comfortably tucked into your blankets, and would bring you a variety of snacks and drinks to choose from. He would then scurry off to give you space to rest, making himself busy by keeping up with the housework.
It was unexpectedly sweet. He’d always helped out with things around the house before, but seeing him fully take on the household responsibilities in addition to doting on you was incredibly endearing.
“WHAT’S THE [Status Update], [Angel]?” He gently pushes open your bedroom door, holding a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.
“Same as the last time you checked in on me 20 minutes ago.” You offer him a soft smile, but he grimaces in return.
“THAT WON’T DO.” He shakes his head as he approaches you, placing the glass of water on your nightstand and gesturing for you to sit up. You shift your weight and lean against the bed’s backboard, and he hands you the soup. You’re not feeling particularly hungry, but make your best attempt to eat some of it when you realize it’s your favorite soup. Besides, Spamton gazes at you with an eager expression as he awaits for you to eat your dinner, and you’d hate to let him down.
“THAT’S A [#1 Customer].” He comments as you take hearty spoonfuls of the soup, and it makes you laugh a little. You end up finishing the entire bowl, much to Spamton’s delight.
“ANYTHING ELSE I CAN [Order For Pickup]?” He places a hand on your arm and offers you a gentle squeeze. He asks this every time he checks in on you, and every time you say that he’s already done enough.
This time, something soft and sentimental overcomes you. Perhaps it’s because you feel a little better after having eaten something, perhaps it’s the way he gently caresses your arm, but a thought bubbles up to the front of your mind.
“There is something else you can do for me.” Before you really process it, you find yourself speaking it into existence. “But it’s not something you can pick up.”
“WELL, DON’T KEEP US [Guessing Game]!” He looks so eager to please, so willing to go the extra mile to make sure you’re feeling better.
“I’d really appreciate a little company right now.”
He blinks at you for a moment before responding. “AS IN, [Stay Put] WITH YOU? THAT’S [Easy Peasy]!” He clambers on top of the bed, shuffling himself to sit cross-legged on your blanket. “IS THIS [Okay]?”
“Hmm. It’s a good start, but I think you could do better.”
He perks up and shuffles himself closer to you. “ANYTHING FOR MY [#1 Most Valued Customer]!” The way his eyes shine behind his tinted glasses gives you butterflies. He seems so genuinely thrilled to complete any request you might have, and it’s enough to make your heart leap into your throat. “WHAT DID YOU HAVE [In Stock] IN MIND?”
“These blankets are really warm, but they’re missing something. Maybe if I had something with a little more weight to it, I’d be more comfortable.” You have no idea where your bravery was coming from, but you didn’t question it. You watch as he thinks quietly to himself for a moment. When his mind finally connects the dots, he jumps and scrambles to lie on top of you.
“SOMETHING LIKE THIS?” His eyes are all but begging you for validation, so determined to do right by you.
“Getting warmer.” You shuffle your arms out of the blankets and bring your hands to his shoulders, gently sliding him off of you for a moment so you could lift the blankets. “But what I’d really like is for you to join me.”
He’s pressed against you in an instant, arms wrapped around your neck and legs around your torso. You chuckle against his hair as you let the blankets fall back into place, sighing when you feel two tender hands lightly threading their fingers through your hair.
“LIKE THIS?” He speaks as softly as he can, nuzzling his face against your neck while being mindful not to poke you with his nose.
“Yeah. Exactly like this.” You squeeze him impossibly closer to you, feeling yourself drift off to sleep as he continues to delicately play with your hair.
I saw the cute art you reblogged of Spamton getting bullied by you and your buds. Would you ever consider writing a drabble based off the pic where you, Zoni and Wander punish him for eating your snacks? Or would that be kinda weird for me to suggest?
Not weird, anon my pal! Acting as if this isn’t the type of thought that plagues my diseased, rotting brain at any given moment lmao. As a side note, I think I forgot how to write in third person lol oops.
(forgot to tag y’all @wanderingbateyes @the-zoni-enthusiast )
“Dude, that’s like the third time this week.”
“You know what happens when you eat Wander’s last hot pocket.”
“It’s almost like you want this to happen.”
Spamton could handle having one friend mad at him, placating them with his smooth-talking salesman ways, but having three friends mad at him was an entirely different ballgame.
“NOW, NOW, YOU SEE. I’M AN [Honest Man], I WOULDN’T TAKE A [Dear Customer]’s [All Sales Final] LAST [Favorite Snack] WITHOUT ASKING [Permission] FIRST.” He takes a couple steps back, attempting to create some distance between himself and the three rather intimidating looking figures in front of him. Unfortunately for him, he is all but trapped in the kitchen, an incriminating hot pocket wrapper still warm in his hand.
“You literally say that every time, none of us are buying it.” Catt crosses her arms and leans against the stove, smirking down at an increasingly nervous Spamton.
“You know what the price to pay is, don’t you?” Wander grins as they take a step towards the unfortunate interrogatee. Spamton tries to turn and flee, but Wander is quick to scoop him up in their arms. “You signed the roommate agreement.”
“YOU PUT THIS IN THE [Legal Contract] AGREEMENT?” Spamton tries to wriggle out of Wander’s arms.
“Oh, did you not read the fine print of the terms and conditions?” Amber approaches him, wiggling her fingers menacingly. “Too bad, so sad.” She digs her fingers into his stomach and he howls with laughter.
“NO, WAIT!” He giggles as she walks her fingers up and down his sides. “CATT, HELP!”
“Oh?” Catt’s smirk widens as she approaches the sorry salesman. “You want me to help?”
“YES.” Spamton chokes out between giggles.
“If you say so.” Catt scratches lightly under his chin, causing him to fall apart completely under the combined assault. “Don’t know why you’d want this, but I’m not complaining.”
“NOT WHAT I MEANT!”
“Then maybe this time you’ll learn your lesson.” Wander teases with a laugh.
