ticklish pixels

As a ler:

EXTREMELY PLAYFUL

Loves tickle fights! Usually somehow manages to win most of them

"Ehehe, is someone by chance ticklish?"

When he found out Ansel was stupidly ticklish it was over for him

Same with Umbra

Loves instigating tickle fights with the household

Will always give breaks and only tickles someone if they don't mind it

"You ok buddy? Sorry, I just think you have a nice laugh!"

As a lee:

Also extremely playful

When he gets the whole household in a massive tickle fight he usually loses when they all gang up on him it's very cute and funny

"Wait wait please I'm tohohoho ticklish for this!"

Is the type of lee to admit that he's ticklish when someone pokes or prods at him. What an idiot /pos

Has a cute cackly laugh that's very infectious when you get his worst spots

Beep! Beep! Beep!

In a swift motion a hand came down to silence the loud alarm, a groan echoing from the arm's owner. The obnoxious siren was the only way to tell that it was morning, considering the room was not afforded the luxury of windows. Another groan escaped the body that was waking up at the allotted time, the alarm reading off in red letters 9:00am.

"Great," the groggy voice said in the vacuum of the room, breaking the quietness. "Testing day."

Dr. Dalton Hux, a title that was laughable as it was only given to him as a trophy, sat up in bed as sleep left his body. He did not even bother checking his phone to see what the weather was like outside; he knew he was not stepping outside for the day. Besides, he would have to play dumb, pretend he did not know what was coming as he was only given this time frame from Mathers.

"Be careful," he had told him, passing by him in the halls as he made his way to his room that night. "Jik is pretty mad about the parking garage incident."

"He can go fuck himself," Dalton spat out, his voice barely above a whisper. As much disdain as his father had brought him, he was still too afraid of prying ears hearing too much vitriol leave his mouth for his creator. "A guy tried to rob me, and I killed him. So what?"

"You left a big mess for his men to clean up," Mathers sighed, putting an arm on his shoulder. "You know how he gets. He said something about making sure you knew your place tomorrow. Just…be safe, alright?"

"I can't promise what I don't know," Dalton scoffed, throwing his lab coat to the side of his bed as he closed the door, wanting rather to be alone with his thoughts then to hear the sadness in his partners voice.

---

Now he was here, getting ready for a day that surely would spell a lot of pain and agony for him. What sick and twisted demise did Jik have in store for him this time? Maybe it would be simple, like being covered in antiseptic and made to writhe in pain for a few hours. Or maybe it would be worse, like the time he had gotten surgery with no anesthetic to see if his organs were still working. He shivered, running a hand over the scars on his torso. He did not know what was in store for him, but he would be damned if he cowered like a baby in front of that…monster.

Monster was the perfect word for Jik, considering no bone in him was human. The alien virus had come to this planet, his planet, for one reason only: destruction. Dalton was just another pawn in his master plan. He did not blame him fully for his purpose in life, but he certainly blamed him for the pain he put him through. A growl left him as he pulled his sweater over his head, checking himself in the mirror. The purple garment brought little comfort to him today, but he mused that at least he looked good in the color.

A knock at his door brought him out of his thoughts and into the moment. He turned, blinking in surprise, not expecting them this early. He sighed and went to the door, expecting a lackey of some sorts to tell him to get moving, but he was instead met with a meek scientist. The other man was holding a clipboard in hand, glasses adorning his face with a messy mop of brown hair atop of his head.

Dalton recognized this one, a stray from the lab who did not have a strong-willed bone in his body. He was a pathetic thing all things considered, and he did not even bother to learn his name. Dalton glared at the man, who shrunk under his gaze.

"G-goodmorning, Dr. Hux," he said, waving a bit to the taller man. The other doctor said nothing, his glare only deepening. "I'm here to fetch you for your morning testing. Oh, good, you're wearing mostly comfortable clothes."

"I assume they'll be stripped of me when I get there," Dalton said cooly, stepping out into the hallway.

"No actually, not today," he answered, eying him up and down. "Well, not all of them anyway, heh."

The half-ling had no idea what he meant, and at this point he did not care. Instead he obediently followed the other man out into the hall, and down to the long elevator that would take them to the basement.

"So, pray tell what does my father have in mind for me today?" he asked, sneering as he tried to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. "Is he going to throw me in acid? Make me fight a foe ten times my size? Fight me himself?"

"Ah, no actually," the man said, running a hand nervously down his clipboard. "Actually Jik isn't here today."

'What a stupid thing to admit to me,' Dalton scoffed, realizing how easily he could overpower the other scientist, kill him and be on his way. "And where is he, if I may be so bold?"

"He's traveling to his secret secondary location, something about looking at his old tech from his planet," the man said, adjusting his glasses. "Which leads me to my next point. He wanted us to um…punish you, for your mess you made the other day."

"I figured as much," Dalton's tone was steely, but there was a bite to his words. "So what, you're going to take me to the lab and beat the shit out of me?"

"N-no sir, ah, doctor, not at all actually," he fumbled over his words, turning to look at Dalton as he they both entered the elevator. "He didn't give us direction, just wanted you to know your place. But um, if I can speak candidly…"

"Be careful, there's cameras everywhere," Dalton smirked, liking the effect he had on this smaller man. The other man took his words to heart, looking around the elevator and sighing.

"I'm not in the business of harming people, that's not why I became a scientist," he answered truthfully, giving Dalton a sad glance. He did not care for the look the other man was giving him, the pity in his eyes making his blood boil. "My team and I decided that to uh, placate Jik, that we would simply run endurance testing on you. And maybe make it seem like it was very rigorous and that you uh, learned your lesson!"

Dalton could not help it; he laughed at that. He barked out a cold laugh and turned on the man, pushing him against the side of the elevator with a hiss and his eyes wild. The smaller man let out a yelp, face filled with fear as it dawned on him how dangerous of a situation he was in. This was Dalton Hux, the son of Jik, a half Vectiral himself, who had proven himself more than capable of ripping human flesh like tissue paper. He realized too little too late that he had to be careful with his words.

"Don't patronize me," he spat put, punching the side of the elevator with enough force to shake the thing. The man whimpered and nodded. "You have no earthly idea what I've been through, and now you're trying to make amends? Where were you when I was a child and being used as a lab rat!? Now you care?"

"I'm sorry for what you go through," he panted out, fear evident in his features. "I wish…I wish I could make it stop for you." His words struck a nerve, a weird feeling pooling in his stomach at the sympathy. He did not know if it made him ill or not. "I want…to try and make it up to you. As long as I'm here, and Jik is looking away I can uh…I can lie about certain things."

He pulled back, but his eyes remained narrowed. "So why do any testing at all? If you're so remorseful, why not let me go back to sleep and call this over?"

"Because I'm sure Jik has your room bugged, and we have to give him something," he said sadly, and Dalton huffed out an angry, but resigned sound. "But I promise it's not going to be like the other tests!"

"Listen here, Dr…"

"White, my name is Dr. Matt White," he said timidly, almost with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. Dalton chose to ignore that.

"Dr. White," he scowled. "You're not my friend, and I don't trust you, so let's get one thing straight. I have been through the horrors that your puny mind can't even comprehend, but you telling me this isn't going to be like any other times is not very reassuring. What makes you think I shouldn't just gut you like a pig right here and now and deal with my father in another way?"

"Because you and I both know how he gets," he shivered, unable to hide his fear. "Please, you don't have to like me, but I have to give him something. I'm trying to work with you here."

"Hmph," Dalton exhaled angrily through his nostrils, but said nothing in return. Instead, he leaned against the other side of the elevator, waiting for it to finally make its long descent down. A 'ding' told them they were finally at the testing level, and the doors opened to stark white.

"Alright, tell me more about this 'test', then, since you're so sure I won't hate it."

"It's like I said, endurance training," Dr. White had Dalton follow him to the first room, the others all closed off with occupied signs on the doors. It was a large room, and it smelled sterile and clean like chemicals. "But you won't be running on a treadmill or anything like that, heh heh." He let out a small laugh, as if it was all amusing to him somehow. It made the other doctor want to throw him.

"And?" Dalton pressed, glaring. Dr. White shrunk a bit under his gaze, motioning to a panel of other scientists who were in the room with them. They were standing in front of a contraption tucked in the back of the room, eyeing it with excitement, and their gaze quickly turned even more excited as Dalton entered the area.

"You'll be sitting in this!" Dr. White motioned, the other scientists moving away from the metal beast. Dalton had to do a double take.

"Well, I can see why Jik didn't authorize any of this, who built this contraption? A toddler?"

"I did, actually," a small sound of sadness left the other man at Dalton's words, his shoulders slumping. Dalton had to scoff at that. He turned to view it again, noting the mechanical arms that hung limply at its side. It reminded him of a toy robot, with loose noodle arms. Above it sat a long backrest, with what he assumed were restraints for the person's arms. However, the base was what was confusing him the most. Where his legs and feet would go looked eerily similar to a metal stockade, with the hinge already opened as if expecting him.

"What is this?" he asked after a moment, eying the machine with contempt. Dr. White steepled his fingers together, trying to seem proud of his accomplishment.

"It's your endurance training!" he said, giving Dalton a small smile. "This isn't going to hurt, if that's what you're wondering."

"Pain doesn't scare me," he lied, arms crossed as he eyed the thing up and down. "I want to know what it does."

"Oh well uh," Dr. White started, seemingly at a loss for words. "It would probably be better if you just went along with it, it's easier to see it then to explain it."

"Sure thing," he growled, getting closer to it. He felt like every step he was going to take was a walk to his execution, but he refused to back down and seem scared. There was a pit in his stomach, wondering what on earth this thing was going to do to him. He eyes the robot arms; would they cut gashes across him with those claws? He eyed the weird foot rest; it would lop off his feet and render him unable to ever escape again? Memories of past experiences raced through his mind and he exhaled slowly, trying to psyche himself up for whatever hell he was about to experience. He turned to glance at Dr. White and his colleagues, and he recalled the hopeless man's words.

"I promise it's not going to be like the other tests," he heard him say in the elevator, wondering if he could actually trust the man. His trust had been broken before many a times, what would make this encounter so different? Still, he knew better than to disobey Jik, and if the man was telling the truth, then this should not be so bad. He scanned the other scientists for malicious intent, but gazing at their eyes he could not find any. In fact, they all seemed just as doe-eyed and meek as Dr. White.

Oh how he could easily paint the room with their blood.

Finally, he rolled his eyes and sat down in the chair, finding the cushioning to be somewhat comfortable despite the thing being made of entirely metal.

"Oh um!" Dr. White started, holding up a hand. "Can you remove your shoes and socks, please?"

"See, what did I say?" Dalton scoffed, kicking off his heeled boots without hesitation. "I told you I would be disrobed by the time this started.

"Well, just your shoes actually," he gave him a smile. "Everything else can stay. And please put your arms above your head into the clasps."

Dalton once again narrowed his eyes, but did as he was told, his wrists getting bound as the metal clasps clicked into place. He tested his bonds and found them to be strong, too strong for his regular form to break out of and possibly even too strong for his B Form to break out of as well. His mouth hung agape for a moment, realizing Dr. White may have had a bit more experience with machines then he anticipated.

"Color me impressed, Doctor," he sneered, putting his feet in the rest spots. "What, do I have to just sit here for hours while you all take notes or something?"

"Well, yes and no," the other man said, walking over and gently but firmly moving the top part of stocks to close shut on his ankles. Dalton couldn't help the small grunt that left him as he instinctively tried to pull his legs back, finding the stockade to be just as strong as the wrist clamps. "You will be sitting for it all, but we'll be taking notes and such on your reactions and endurance to the machine."

"Endurance to what?" he asked, suddenly fearing for his safety all over again.

"Endurance to special stimuli," Dr. White said, pulling out a small remote from his back pocket. "I'm going to turn it on, alright? Just relax and uh, do what comes naturally."

Before he could say anything more to him, the arms on the side came to life with a whir, the claws clicking as they powered on. Dalton's eyes widened as he looked to the side, wondering what fresh hell awaited him. He could not help it; he closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.

What he got, however, was something he never expected in a million years.

Instead of ripping him to shreds, the arms quickly snapped to work and dove at his sides, squeezing the tender skin there. He realized in that moment that the claws were not inf act sharp; it was an illusion of his own senses. The claws were somewhat sharp, but the ends fully dulled. They probably could not even slice a piece of paper if they tried. However, what they were good at was making Dalton let out a series of gasps and sounds he did not know he was capable of making as the hands went to quick work sliding up and down his sides, the mechanical fingers rotating back and forth in a spidering motion.

"What the fuck!?" he gasped out, trying to inch away from the offending hands, but to no avail. "Wh-what is this!?"

"Like I said, endurance training," Dr. White said, already starting to take notes. "It's not painful, is it?"

"No it-fuck!" he let out a sound akin to a strangled cat, and in horror he realized he was fighting back the urge to laugh. Wait, to laugh? That wasn't right. Where was the pain? Where was the agony he was promised? No, the mechanical hands were doing something else entirely, and his eyes widened in terror as he realized what exactly they were doing to him.

They were tickling him. He was in a tickle experiment, of all things.

"No no no no!" he cried out, his face quickly flushing bright red at the realization. Oh he was no stranger to the concept of being ticklish, as he had remembered times playing with his twin in his youth. Remy, his dear sweet Remy, holding him down and digging her small fingers into his stomach to make him laugh and forget the painful experiments he had been through only days prior. He would of course attack her back, but he knew even back then he had to be gentle considering her condition.

This, however, this was unlike anything he had ever felt. He bit his lip as he tried to hold back the flood of giggles that threatened to pour out of him like a fountain, screwing his eyes shut as he fought with every nerve in his body. He almost would have accepted the pain over this humiliation any day.

It wasn't until the torturous fingers moved to his underarms that he succumbed to his plight, shrieking out a laugh as he threw his head back against the cushioned paneling of the chair. As he did so, he could barely make out the other scientists furiously scribbling down notes.

"You cahahan't do this to me!" he squealed out, trying despite his bonds to shimmy away from the hands. "When I get out I'll kihehehill you all!" His threats probably would have sounded much scarier had he not been giggling his head off, and he knew they had fallen on deaf ears as he saw Dr. White press more buttons on the remote. Another set of hands came out around the base, and he barely had time to react as he realized where their target was.

'So that's why he said to remove my shoes,' he thought to himself in despair, realizing too little too late that he should have seen this coming. The second pair of hands quickly got to work, rushing forwards and doing the same tickly motions on his feet, and that's really when the dam broke.

"Wait wait noHOHO NOT THERE!" he squealed, his voice going up an octave as the dull metal fingers tickled along his arches and toes, the sensation sending him up the wall. He knew from experience that his feet were horrifically ticklish, but he had no idea they were this bad. He almost wondered if he had been drugged to feel the sensation ten times worse, as he couldn't remember ever laughing this hard before.

"Wow, such a reaction!" One of Dr. White's colleagues noted, writing something down in almost a scribble. She seemed to be taking notes so fast her pen could not keep up, as she kept crossing mistakes off and rewriting while glancing up at Dalton. "I had no idea he was so ticklish! Could that be a side effect of what he is, you think?"

"I have no idea," Dr. White also was taking notes, but he could not keep his eyes off of Dalton. "There's very little we know of Vectirals I'm not so sure, considering Jik can't feel sensation to begin with. I don't think he got it from him, maybe he's just predisposed to it from different genetics?"

Great, he was being studied once again like a lab rat. Oh how he wanted to tear these doctors a new one, burst out of his confines and rip them limb from limb. He thought about it, but he knew even his Vectiral form couldn't cut through steel. Not wanting to risk hurting himself, he stayed put as he was, but he couldn't help shaking his head side to side to try and ease away the ticklish agony.

The arms at his sides had seemed to change tactics, as one moved to his belly to tickle along the sensitive skin there. He nearly jumped out of his skin at that, and he felt tears prick his eyes as he cackled in mirth.

"This isn't funehehehe!" he screamed as the hands attacked the balls of his feet, his own movements doing little to protect him. Dalton wiggled his feet around, even tried curling his toes, but nothing seemed to deter the mechanical hands from their carnage.

As the hands moved back to torturing his underarms, he made a realization. A horrible realization really, well, what he considered horrible. New blush flared across his pale face and ears as the thoughts crept in, and he couldn't help the terribly cute whine that left his mouth as it dawned on him.

He didn't hate this. He didn't hate this at all, and that thought was terrifying to him.

How could he not hate this? It was horrible, embarrassing, mortifying even…and yet…this was so much better than being tortured with scalpels and needles. A warm feeling had pooled over him, his embarrassment at his predicament escalating. He didn't want this to stop. Why didn't he want this to stop?

"Are you alright, Dr. Hux?" One of the scientists cocked their head to the side, almost putting their notes down. "You're very red, are we pushing you too hard? Have you reached your limit?"

"N-no!" he cried out, flexing in his bonds and letting out a yelp as one hand moved to his scratch around his navel. "I'm fine, this sucks, but I'm fine!" he tried to growl in protest but what came out was a very cute giggly sound, not threatening in the slightest. His laugh turned into a manic cackle when the hands by his feet went for the spot under his toes, scratching at the delicate skin there and making him lose his mind with laughter.

Dalton could feel his brain start to turn to mush from the onslaught, but still his attempts at escape had stopped as he realized how good this felt. It terrified him; why was he enjoying this so much? This was embarrassing! So exposed he was with his most ticklish spots being attacked and having onlookers gawk at him like some test subject, and yet here he was, tears streaming down his face as he was loving every second of this torture. Had all the abuse over the years turned him into some kind of masochist? No, that couldn't be it, he hated the pain. Yet this wasn't painful, this was…oh dear, this was fun.

He lost track of how long it had gone by, but eventually the machines stopped and the arms retracted back into the chair, the top ones going limp at his side. He panted, residual giggles pouring out of him like an overflowing waterfall. His chest heaved with heavy breathes as his arms were released from the restraints, and it took him a good solid five minutes to compose himself, rubbing at his sides as if to scratch away the phantom tickling fingers.

"Dr. Hux, that was incredible!" Dr. White exclaimed, going over to him to show him the notes. "You wildly exceeded our expectations, we thought you were only going to last about ten minutes. Turns out you lasted an hour!"

"An…hour?" he breathed out, wiping the tears away from his face as his head lolled to the side. "Well aha I uh, I'm just that strong I guess. Did you really think you could break me with something as childish as that?"

The other doctor gave him a sympathetic smile, nodding. "It wasn't to try and break you, but to give us something to show your father. We'll uh…we'll edit the notes to make it sound more graphic than what it really was, but I hope you aren't too mad at us."

"Mad? N-no I'm uh," he touched his face, feeling the heat basically radiating off of him. "I'm disappointed!"

"Disappointed?" The doctor perked up, a curious look on his face.

"Yes, disappointed that you barely pushed me to my limits!" he barked out a cold laugh, sitting up as he quickly replaced his socks and shoes. He could feel the tingling on his poor soles from where the hands had mercilessly attacked him. He had wished it could have been longer. "But alas, I have other things to do, so go tell my father whatever the hell you want, but I have actual work that needs to be done."

"Of course, doctor," Dr. White nodded, helping him stand. He noticed with a hint of a smile that Dalton was unsteady on his feet, tripping over himself as he stood for a moment before making a beeline for the door. "It was nice getting to spend time with you!"

"Yeah whatever," Dalton scowled, not even giving them a passing glance as he left to go back to the elevator. Once inside, he slammed his hand down on the button to his floor, his heart racing and his eyes wide as he leaned against the side of the elevator.

"What the hell was that?" he said to himself, running a hand through his now messy hair. "Why did that happen and why did I enjoy it so much?" he pulled out his phone, quickly racing through searches as his floor came into view. He nearly toppled over another scientist as he raced out of the elevator and to his room, power walking his way back. As he did some searches, his eyebrows furrowed with the information he was given.

"What the hell is a 'lee'?" he growled under his breath, trying to do more research. As he came upon his room, he entered, kicking of his boots and flopping down on his bed as his fingers rapidly typed away on his phone. He held it up to his ear, his eyes darting side to side.

"Mathers?" he said after the other finally picked up his phone. "Come to my room when you're free. We need to talk, uh, it's important."

The sun rose high over the farm as a man stood in his field, pushing his plow through the soil, his only companion a lone, but excitable yellow lab. The heat was a little subdued for the morning, but still bore down on the man as he worked. He was none the wiser to the very dark crow that watched him from his own fence, its eyes a very odd shade of steely gray. In an instant, the bird was off, flying off into the distance and disappearing, but to the trained eye one would see it had flown through what appeared to be a portal.

Back between the realms the crow flew, avoiding pocket dimensions that belonged to other gods as it swiftly landed into a portal that was all its own. In a poof of black smoke, the crow dissipated and turned into a man, well, what would semi-qualify for a man at least. Antlers sprung out of his mop of black hair and a long cloak adorned his figure. His skin was gray as ash and a skull like pattern adorned his face as he sat down, letting out a sigh in his own room.

Mortem, the Grim Reaper sat in his own dimension, away from the hustle and bustle of Purgatory and the living realm, away form his reapers and even his family as the room came into being. It was a beautiful but cozy little room, tucked away from other beings where the Death God could relax and take his time feeling like a person and not like he ruled the dead. A giant oak desk sat in the corner of the room as did an old leather couch and a leather recliner that he was currently sitting on. Many a books lined the walls and it was clear he studied alchemy by the tools and writings left on the desk.

He let out a small huff as he thumbed through a book, his leg crossed over the other as he sat in silence, loving his very little alone time. The book would have been quite enjoyed in that moment had a voice not cut through the silence.

"Someone's brooding again," a voice from the corner of the room said. Instead of jumping in surprise, Mortem simply closed the book and sighed, putting it down and swiveling the chair to look behind him at his 'guest.'

"I have to give you credit, Alacritas," he said, a small smirk playing on his lips despite his annoyance. "You seem to always know when I'm here and how ot find this place."

"I have this dimension memorized," the God of Life said, appearing in a white puff of smoke on the couch, legs also crossed as his arms hung over the back of the couch. "But it's also not like you made it hard to find."

"I didn't," Mortem said, tapping the sides of his chair impatiently. "I just made it to hide away when I need alone time. Like now."

The Green Sower did not take the hint, or if he did he didn't bite, for his smirk only grew and he moved to lean his chin in his hand as he looked him over.

"Or you go here when you need to brood, I've seen it many a times," he chuckled, running a hand though his long hair. "I just figured you could use some cheering up, and as my oh-so charitable self I decided to lend my oldest friend a hand!"

"I'm not brooding," Mortem huffed out his own laugh, a low sound that almost didn't register as a laugh. "I'm thinking. I'm lost in thought. I do this, you've seen me do this."

"Yes, and I also see you when you're sad and broody," the Life God told him. "And this is definitely one of those times. Your kids even see it too, but they usually avoid you in this time, don't they?"

He didn't know how to answer that one, even though he knew it to be true. Instead he turned back to his desk, fumbling around with some papers.

"Mort," Alacritas started, leaning back on the couch. "When was the last time you smiled? Laughed even?"

"Just now, you just heard it," Mortem replied, not even bothering to turn around. He was growing wary of these games Alacritas liked to play with him, although sometimes he was happy for the company. Thousands upon thousands of years of being alive, if one could even call what the creation gods had as being 'alive', and it was bound to get lonely at times. Alacritas, being the oldest, knew this better than anyone. They only really had each other in all the realms, and it was something only gods even older than them could understand.

"No I mean like really smile," the other god sat up straight, pouting cutely. "I haven't seen it in so long."

"Nothing to smile about in my life currently," Mortem sighed, rolling his eyes at his own 'joke'.

"Oh he's a funny man!" Alacritas barked out a laugh, finding an idea. "OK, jokes it is. Why did the crow cross the road?"

"Al, please," Mortem let out a groan, once again opening a book to hopefully drown his friend out with.

"Say it, Mort, you know you want to." He could hear the grin in the other man's voice as he tried to force him to take the bait, and just to shut the Life God up he sighed and did just that.

"To get to the other side. So funny I forgot to laugh." He huffed, running a hand down his face. "Al I adore you, but your jokes need so much work."

"Alright tough guy, plan B then."

"What's plan B- Ah!" He was not prepared to Plan B, for what it seemed to entail was a small portal that Alacritas had opened on his side of the room, stuck his hand through, and had opened another small portal right next to Mortem's side with his own hand reaching through to pinch at said body part. The Death God didn't even see it coming, and a wobbly grin already made its way onto his face as he tried to push the offending hand away. "Al, please! Don't, don't no please you know I'm deathly ticklish!"

"Of course I know," Alacritas smirked, and Mortem was sure if he could turn around and see his face it would be an absolutely devious look. "That's why I'm resorting to tickling you to get you to smile."

"I'm fihihihine!" He gasped, feeling another hand reach for his arm, a portal right above his head. "You little-You've mastered portals I seehehee!"

"Thank you for noticing!" The other god retorted, two portals opened in front of him with his arms through them. Like an maestro orchestrating Mortem's own demise, one hand held his arm above his head as the other free one attacked under his arm, finally fully breaking him and making him collapse in his chair in mirth.

"This isn't fair!" he choked out, giggling madly as he tried to weakly bat at the other's hands. "Al, no please!"

"Oh come on now, it's a good look on you ya know," he laughed. "Laughing de-ages you. You're always so sad looking all the time, like a lost puppy. I'm tired of it, and if I have to sneak in here to tickle you to tears to fix it from time to time I'm going to do it!"

Mortem couldn't even find words to answer that as he tried too curl away, the offending hand finally stopping its attack on his underarm. Yet, it didn't seem over yet as both hands now went to attack his hips, making him nearly squeal with laughter and buck in his chair. Alacritas couldn't help but find the display endearing.

"Who knew Death Gods were so ticklish, hm?"

From off the desk, a suspiciously black quill feather started floating, flittering right over to the side of his head and flicking along his jawline and stopping at his ears.

"Aahahehehehe! Oh, oh, Al, please not the ears you knohohohow better!" his laugh felt raspy and breathless as he cackled, almost like it hadn't been used in so long. Alacritas wanted to hear nothing but the sound. He tried in vain to get away, and yet part of him didn't ever want this to stop. He was right, it had been much too long since he had laughed and smiled.

'My smile died the day with Unus…'

"Oops I guess forgot, silly me!" He giggled, skittering his hands up his sides and into his ribs. Mortem's laugh went silent at a few points, and the Life God knew when a good thing was probably too much. He eventually pulled his hands away from the portals, and they disappeared with his removal. However the feather kept at his ears, switching sides for a few more moments while Mortem scrunched up his neck and tried and very much failed to capture the sneaky thing. When the attack was finally finished, he leaned back in his chair with a loud huff and panted, trying to catch his breath. He finally rolled it around to face a very smug Alacritas on his couch.

"Was that…really necessary…" he breathed out.

"Judging by the actual color in your face, I say yes!" That only added more of a blue blush to all the way to his ears, and he coughed sheepishly into his hand as he looked away, but he couldn't keep the small smile off his face.

After a moment Alacritas was about to say something, but a vacant look on Mortem's face gave him pause as his eyes turned black. It was done in a flash, and his eyes returned to their normal state as he looked up, a small, thoughtful look on his face.

"See something?" The Green Sower said, tilting his head to the side.

"My farmer was supposed to kill himself today," he said, tapping his fingers to his lips. "But something stopped him. I think it was his dog. I was going to make him a reaper. Oh well, I guess fate has other plans. Maybe he'll live to old age now."

"How wonderful," Alacritas beamed, his hands twisting in a hugging motion. "See, good things can happen! There's plenty to smile about in these realms. We should celebrate the life of the farmer."

"One life?" Mortem actually laughed, hiding his mouth behind a hand. "I guess…you're right. To the farmer that lived."

"That's better," Alacritas smiled genuinely, his expression softening as he saw the smile on Mortem's face. "That's the Mortem I love and miss."

The words hit like a freight train, making the Death God turn to the other, a deep blush on his face as a sheepish look overtook him, but the quiet adoration radiating off him was palpable. Finally getting up from his seat, Mortem got up and sat next to Alacritas on the couch, taking one his hands in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you," he said quietly. The other nodded, a big grin on his face. Mortem was about to say more when he felt a squeeze at his side, making him yelp again in laughter. "Al!"