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#i got diseased by big shot brain and forgot how to write literally every other version of spam
disastrouslyyours · 2 years
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Hi! Same anon from earlier today. Thank you so much for the warm welcome! As for a drabble request, let me think here… To me Spamton Neo makes such a good switch. 😳 Despite his intimidating appearance and size, it’s so cute to see him be the lee but as soon as the tables turn, oh boy… 😳💦
I haven’t really seen any tickle fics of Spamton Neo with the Addisons yet. 🤔 What if for whatever reason Spamton Neo is caught up in those strings and he’s found by one of the Addisons. At first the Addison tries to help free Sneo but accidentally discovers a little weakness. So they have a bit of fun at Sneo’s expense until he can’t take it anymore and rips himself from the strings. Now Spamton Neo is free and has some spare ropes he could use… That would then be a good time for that Addison to RUN! 😆 (Not so sure they can outrun a vengeful robot with way longer legs than them though…) I dunno, just an idea… 😳👉👈 😆
BESTIE THIS TOOK AGES BC IDK HOW TO CONTROL MYSELF. Drabble Requests more like "Catt can't write less than 1k words" Challenge smhhh.
Also for reference Del is a blue Addison and Surv is an orange one. Idk man my brain gave them names and I haven’t been able to change them?
Hate myself for starting this like a real fic and then making it Cursed. /j (im kidding this was fun!!)
When whispers spread through the city about a certain washed up sleazy salesman finally getting the “big break he deserved”, Del tried his best to ignore them. That lasted all of five minutes before he abandoned his station to go and find Surv, the only other individual he figured he could convince to scope things out with him. Luckily Surv agreed, having heard the rumors himself, and was en route to find Del to ask him the same question.
The pair tried to convince themselves that it was just gossip, that there was no way he actually was able to scam some poor soul into going through with his outlandish plan, right? As they charmed their way past mansion security, there was no ignoring the anxious hushed whispers from the various mansion workers.
They’re saying he finally made it, I don’t know how he would’ve managed to sneak by us.
He’s not exactly a quiet or subtle man, it’s probably a false alarm.
Still, Swatch did seem a little extra…reserved when I asked them about it. They denied it, of course…
I didn’t even think we had a basement! This is probably someone’s bad idea of a joke.
Although…what if it’s not?
The “what if’s” were all but suffocating Surv as he tried desperately to swallow his own guilt. Wordlessly the pair descended the stairs to a basement they never hoped existed, neither one wanting to admit their hand in the series of events that led them to this moment. If this moment was anything; they still had yet to find evidence to support the rumors.
Their answer came in the form of a deep rumbling sound accompanied by two different colored spotlights flooding the hallway, casting long shadows of themselves behind them. Del felt his heart shatter and turned to look at Surv for guidance, who had an unsettling grimace tightly drawn on his face. Before either had a chance to speak up, an all too familiar voice rattled out of the massive figure dangling at the end of the hall.
“GOD [&@$%*^!] DAMN IT.” There was no denying that, even if bass boosted and reverberated to hell and back, this voice belonged to none other than Spamton G. Spamton. Del found the strength to take a couple steps closer, wincing at every industrial whirr and hiss that came from the massive robot in front of him. It appeared to be tangled in a mess of thick, green cords, desperately twisting and turning in attempts to free itself. He nearly faints when the robot turns to face him head on, its face confirming that the rumors were definitely true.
“COME TO [Laugh Track] AT YOUR [Old Pal-] SPAMTON G-G-G S-SPAMTON?” A thick puff of steam hisses out of the corner of his mouth as he fitfully tugs at an arm, only managing to ensnare himself in his own wires even more so than before.
“No…no.” Del clears his throat, struggling to find his voice as he turns his head back to a frozen Surv. He nods his head to signal Surv to join him, who reluctantly makes his way closer. “We came to see the rumors were true. Which…” He swallows thickly as Spamton twists his neck at unnatural angles to look him in the eyes. “I-it seems like they are.”
Spamton’s expression lights up at the mention of rumors and he cries out in delight, the sound piercing and shrill as it reverberates off the walls.
“YOU DOUBTED ME, DIDN’T BELIEVE I’D ONCE AGAIN BE A [BIG SHOT].” Spamton continues to contort his body, most likely in an attempt to free himself, and it’s becoming too much for Del to stand.
“No, I never doubted you.” Del gingerly takes a step forward, trying to steal his nerves as best he can. He doesn’t necessarily have a plan outside of “try to cut him loose”, but he figures he’ll think of something in the moment. Addisons are nothing if quick witted, he reasons with himself as he continues to shuffle closer to his former friend. Spamton manages to free an arm and uses it to scoop Del up in his hand. Del nearly faints from the whiplash alone, never mind out of basal fear, as he is held right in front of an uncanny valley rendering of his friend’s face.
“DON’T LIE T0 M3, DEL.” Spamton shakes the man in his hands a little. “YOU ALWAYS D0UBTED ME. NEVER WANTED TO SEE ME [Make It Big], YOU WERE [Make Your Friends Green With Envy] JEALOUS.”
“He’s not lying, Spamton.” Surv calls from the ground, hoping to mask the nervousness in his own voice. “We might’ve been jealous, but we never doubted you. We always just wanted what was best for you…and right now, this doesn’t seem like a best case scenario.” Surv gestures towards the numerous green cables tangled around Spamton’s limbs.
Spamton grunts and tugs at the restraints. “I AM NOT [Case Closed] TANGLED.” He does not prove his point as another cable ensnares itself around his ankle.
Del attempts to wriggle out of Spamton’s grasp, surprised when he’s able to do so. Balancing himself on Spamton’s closed fist, he leans against his head for support. “Let us help you, please. Big Shots deserve to be free of their strings, don’t you think?”
Spamton considers this for a moment, the only sound in the hallway that of the oversized cooling fans inside his new body working overtime. The implication of ridding himself from the one thing standing between him and his freedom was all too tempting an offer.
“D34L.” He chirps, and Del scrambles onto his head to assess the situation. He stares up at the ceiling only to find it missing, the thick green cables seeming to descend from an impossible height. The only way would be to cut them, and he hoped that would be enough. Del crouches on Spamton’s back, grabbing a string in one hand and giving an experimental tug while he steadies himself by holding onto a massive wing with the other. As soon as his fingers curl around the inner corner, Spamton shudders with a shriek.
“Does this hurt?” Del releases his grip on the cable, worried that Spamton can feel the force he exerted on it. Spamton shudders again when Del tightens his grip on his wing, and for a moment Del thinks that it looks like he’s laughing.
“He isn’t hurt, he’s just the same old sensitive Spammy he’s always been.” Surv snickers, squeezing the soft plastic that made up Spamton’s knee. He attempts to jerk his leg away, but finds it more or less stuck in place with the unnatural angle the string suspends him at.
“NO, [Wait There’s More!], LET’S CONSIDER THIS!” Spamton rattles his body, attempting in vain to free himself before the Addisons can continue down this train of thought. He can’t stop himself from flinching when he feels Del hook his hands under each wing’s inner corner, nor can he stop the static-filled giggles from rumbling out of his voice box when Del’s fingers start to scratch.
“You’re right, Surv, he is the same old Spamton, even in this garish form.” Del teases, laughing a little himself at the absurdity of the situation.
“How lucky for him that we came to his rescue. Look how happy he is to see us!” Surv continues to press into the soft part of the back of Spamton’s knee, as Spamton tries to twist his leg out of Surv’s reach.
“NO, W-WAIT, [Ceasefire Requested]!” Spamton laughs as he tries to shake off the two prodding figures, not quite finding the humor in this discovery the way they did. He feels Del scratch the spot directly in between his wings and he shrieks, twisting himself in a way that his sharp sheet metal wings slice through several of his suspensions. Thrown off balance, he somehow manages to catch himself (albeit by lying on the floor) while also managing to secure Del in his hand so as to not accidentally crush him. The three are quiet for a moment, Del and Surv in a horrified silence as they wait with baited breath to see the consequence of their actions. Spamton shuffles himself, horrible noises of metal scraping metal filling the air, until he is kneeling with Del still trapped in his hand. He shakes and stretches his wings, genuinely surprised that he can move after severing the strings. He turns his spotlight eyes to Surv, who exhales when he sees Spamton is more or less alright.
“Rescue him we did, wouldn’t you say, Surv?” Del calls out as he feels Spamton’s grasp slightly tighten around him.
“I’d say so.” Surv swallows as Spamton keeps an unwavering gaze on him, slowly bringing his body to a standing position as he adjusts to the feeling of being 30ft tall and drunk on freedom.
“IF TH<AT’S WHAT YOU [Call For You!] IT.” He cracks a wicked grin that sends shivers down both Addison’s spines. Surv briefly debates turning to run, but Spamton was quicker on the draw and scooped him up in his other hand. “GRANT ME [FREEDOM] YOU DID, BUT IF YOU [Asking the Big Questions] ME, I’D SAY WE HAVE A [Overstock] LOT TO CATCH UP ON. A LOT OF LOST [Time is Money] TO MAKE UP FOR.”
Surv and Del exchange nervous glances, for once in their lives neither of them can think of anything to say. Luckily, Spamton helps them out, and they find their voices in the form of laughter as he digs an oversized thumb into each of their midsections.
Lots of lost time to make up for, indeed.
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