That Warm Belly Laughter / Let’s Hear It Again

Tickle Blog . Ghost . Adult (21) . Artist/Writer .

[ticklish-ghost]

!HELLO!

You can call me Ghost He/him . adult

Recurring interests: Arcane, Tangle Tower, Mystery Skulls Animated, IDV, Borderlands, Super Mario RPG, Bee and Puppycat. Here’s some others i enjoy. So feel free to send asks, headcanons or prompts on that.

ART TAG . WRITING TAG

[hanksposts]

Don't Touch the Scout

Summary: To ensure the team's safety on their trek to the villa, Giorno creates a small frog. But when the creature falls into the hands of Mista and Narancia, they accidentally uncover a hidden weakness in Gold Experience's ability and they aren't about to let the newbie off easily.

Lee! Giorno Giovanna

Lers! Guido Mista; Narancia Ghirga

A/N: OMG I'M SO SORRY ANON YOUR ASK GOT DELETED FOR SUM REASON! And I should probably warn y'all first that the premise of this fic isn't really canon. I stumbled upon this headcanon back around 2022, and I haven't been able to get it outta my head ever since, so I just had to write a fic about it. Basically, the headcanon is that Giorno's creations act as an extension of his Stand, meaning any physical sensation or attack inflicted on them is directly transferred back to Giorno himself. Anyway enjoy the fic Ig. Anon I'm sorry again

The sun over Capri was unforgivingly baking the cobblestone streets as the newly promoted Capo, Bruno Bucciarati, led his team away from the docks. The promotion had changed the air. They weren't just a street gang anymore; they were the guardians of the Boss’s daughter.

Fugo was walking between Mista and Narancia, mid-lecture about the geographical significance of the island, but he stopped abruptly when Bucciarati looked back.

"Fugo," Bruno called, motioning for him to come alongside him. "I need to go over the perimeter details of the villa before we arrive."

"Of course." Fugo said, adjusting his tie and hurried forward, leaving the Mista and Narancia behind.

Narancia kicked a loose pebble, his eyes drifting to Giorno. The newbie was walking a few paces ahead, his posture stiff and formal.

Then to Narancia's surprise, Giorno suddenly leaned down to pick up a small, flat stone from the edge of a flowerbed. With a golden flash from his Stand's hand, the stone changed its shape and pulsed between his fingers. In Giorno's palm sat a vibrant green tree frog, its throat swelling as it let out a soft croak. Giorno didn't look back, he simply let the frog hop toward a nearby stone wall, presumably to act as a lookout.

"Duuuude..!" Narancia hissed. He snagged the brim of Mista’s hat, hauling him down by force just so he could whisper right into his ear, "His ability is to make animals! Look at that thing!"

Mista grumbled at the yank on his hat, squinting past Narancia at the wall, then over at Giorno's back. "Yeah, I saw it. It's just a frog. We better focus on the mission…" He put on a bored act, but his eyes stayed dead-set on the little green speck right as it botched a jump against the brick and came tumbling down into the dirt.

"See? I told you it was his!" Narancia darted forward, scooping the tiny thing up in his hands before it could hop away.

"Ew, gross, why did you take it?" Mista grimaced, though he didn't pull away. "Put it back, Narancia. The newbie probably had some purpose for this thing."

"It's not gross, it's cool." Narancia whispered back, completely engrossed. He held the frog in his cupped hands, watching its golden eyes. "I wonder if it's as smart as he is."

Up ahead, Giorno’s shoulders suddenly jerked.

Narancia didn't notice. He took his pointer finger and lightly poked the frog's soft belly, and then, he began to rhythmically pet the top of its head. "Man, it even feels real..." he muttered, completely fascinated.

Giorno twitched again. This time more violently. His hand flying up to adjust the collar of his jacket as if he were suddenly losing his balance.

Mista's stride slowed. He watched Narancia poke the frog a second time, tracking the movement just in time to see Giorno's head loll slightly to the side, his pace faltering for a fraction of a second.

As the dots connected, Mista suddenly lunged, throwing his forearm around Narancia's neck in a flash of mild panic and hauling him backward into a tight, frantic huddle. "Heyheyheyhey! Narancia, look..!" he hissed under his breath.

"Ow! What the hell, Mista?!" Narancia choked out, nearly dropping the frog as he squirmed against the sudden chokehold. He threw an annoyed glare at Mista but as his eyes followed the manic direction of his nod, his irritation evaporated.

Ten feet ahead, Giorno had gone entirely rigid, his fingers twitching violently against the fabric of his trousers. Narancia's mouth fell open into a slow, wicked grin as his brain finally caught up to what Mista was implying.

"Every time you touch that thing..." Mista murmured, a slow, wicked smirk carving across his face.

"He feels it," Narancia finished for him, his voice dropping into an awed whisper.

Mista nodded "Yeah, I think his sensors are plugged straight into this frog. Whatever you do to the animal, he's catching the feedback out there."

A devious, wide grin completely took over Narancia's features. To test the theory of this incredible new discovery, he adjusted his hold on the little creature. Deliberately and carefully, he extended his index finger and dragged it along the frog's slick green side in one long feather-light stroke.

Up ahead, the results were instantaneous.

Giorno's entire spine snapped perfectly straight, his shoulders hitching violently as if a current of pure electricity had just been shot through his body. A strangled sound escaped his throat. Blinded by the sudden, overwhelming wave of sensations, his foot caught the uneven edge of the cobblestones, sending him stumbling sideways. He barely managed to throw his hands out in time, narrowly avoiding a collision with a rusty iron lamppost. He clamped his fingers onto the metal pole instead, clinging to it as he proceeded just what on earth was that..

Narancia had to shove his own fist into his mouth to suffocate the explosive laugh bubbling up in his chest. He wheezed in a desperate, breathy whisper, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he cradled the unbothered frog tightly against his chest, making sure not to stroke it again. "Oh my, this is too good. This is the best day of my life."

"Shh, keep it down! He's still close enough to hear us!" Mista hissed, though he was doing a terrible job of hiding his own face behind his hand, his shoulders shaking with silent, hysterical giggles. He glanced up at Giorno, who was now stiffly dusting off his suit jacket. "Man, this rookie's tough. Don't touch that thing again out here, save it for later. We're gonna have so much fun at the house."

–––

The Villa San Giovanni was blissfully quiet, insulated from the ambient hum of the Capri streets and the oppressive, heavy glare of the midday sun. Near the open windowsill, Fugo was focused on organizing a stack of maps and documents, though his attention kept fracturing. For the fifth time in ten minutes, his gaze flicked suspiciously over to the sofa.

Giorno was sitting there, his posture entirely collapsed. He had his face buried deeply in one hand, his fingers clamped over his mouth with a white knuckled grip that looked almost painful. His other arm was wrapped tightly around his abdomen for an unknown reason. With his eyes squeezed shut, his entire frame was trembling with a silent, rhythmic shaking that he was clearly fighting with every ounce of his remaining willpower.

Fugo let out a heavy sigh at the sight. This was his third time trying to get through to the newcomer, his frown deepening into a line of genuine concern. "Giorno? Seriously, are you alright?" he asked again, crossing his arms. "You’ve been acting strange ever since we stepped off the trail. If you're coming down with something, just say it. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I am... fine, Fugo," Giorno managed to choke out. His voice was strained, a few octaves higher than his usual calm, low register. "I just...g-got a cramp. It will pass any minute now..."

Fugo shook his head, thoroughly unconvinced. A different excuse every single time. Well, if the rookie insisted on keeping his illness a secret, then fine, so be it. Fugo was already getting tired of his mysterious nature anyway.

High above the safehouse floor, hidden away in the shadows of the wooden ladder leading to the loft, Mista and Narancia were curled up together like two kids up to no good. Narancia held a thin, delicate straw of grass, brushing the tip of it along the tiny green frog perched on his knee with delicate precision.

Both boys had their faces buried deep into their collars, desperately trying to muffle the hysterical giggles that threatened to echo through the rafters. Watching Passione’s most stoic, untouchable rookie completely unravel across the room was easily the best entertainment they'd had all week.

Suddenly, the frog scrambled. The creature had been sitting perfectly still, but its tiny muscles coiled with sudden tension as it picked up on its creator's frantic call. With a desperate leap, it launched itself off Narancia's kneecap right toward the open edge of the loft railing.

"Whoa! It’s making a break for it!" Narancia hissed, lunging forward, but his fingertips missed the slick green skin by a hair. The frog plummeted into freefall toward the hard floor below until another hand snapped out of the shadows, snatching it cleanly out mid-air with the grace of a seasoned gunslinger.

Mista opened his palm, looking down at the creature. It was squirming with a sudden, unnatural intensity, its little legs kicking frantically against his hand, trying to break free from an unyielding grip.

"Look at that," Mista whispered, his eyes widening as he adjusted his hold. "It’s trying to hop away. Giorno's pulling it back to him."

"Wait, Giorno can actually control it from all the way over there?" Narancia asked, leaning heavily over Mista’s shoulder to watch the tiny struggle.

"Looks like it," Mista muttered, watching the frantic kicking. "I wonder why he doesn't just turn it back into pebble. He should be able to do that from anywhere, no?" He closed his fingers into a loose, warm cage around the frog, feeling the rapid, terrified vibration of its tiny heart against his palm. "If he’s trying this hard to pull it back, then it means he really doesn't want us playing with it. Which means..."

A wicked glint flashed in Mista's eyes as his gaze traveled up to the dried blade of grass Narancia was still clutching.

"Gimme that," Mista grinned, snatching the grass from his partner's hand. "If the boy wants his frog back, he’s gonna have to earn it."

Down on the sofa, Giorno felt the physical shift instantly. The phantom sensation of open air vanished, replaced by a suffocating warmth enveloping his creation. It’s trapped, he realized, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. Where did it even wander off to? I was certain I gave it a slow enough metabolism so it wouldn't hop too far away.

Panic flaring, he began to call upon Gold Experience to forcefully unmake the creature from a distance. But before his Stand could even manifest, a sensation from earlier struck his flanks all over again.

Mista had begun to work with clinical precision. He teasingly dragged the serrated edge of the grass in long and slow strokes along the frog's sensitive, or rather Giorno's sensitive flanks.

Giorno's back arched up involuntarily. A sharp, gasping breath escaped him and he bit his lip so hard it bled, desperate to keep himself quiet. Then suddenly Giorno heard a familiar, muffled giggle echoing from the high rafters. Mista and Narancia…

He tried once more to mentally retract the frog since now he knew its location but Mista caught the internal tug. Countering it instantly, the gunman began swirling the grass in a rapid, frantic circle right against the frog’s belly.

"A-ah—!" A choked, high-pitched gasp tore past Giorno's teeth before he could stop it. The sensory overload was overwhelming. Giorno's legendary composure shattered into pieces. Every single time he tried to focus his mind to cancel the ability, the ticklish sensation would spike, sending a jolt of electricity through his nerves that forced his concentration to break. I can't—I can't focus—!

Up in the shadows, Narancia couldn't contain himself anymore. Seeing Giorno squirming like a landed fish on the sofa below was too much temptation. "Move over, let me do it!" he whispered frantically, nudging Mista aside. Narancia didn't even bother with the grass. He used his own fingers, wiggling his fingertips in a fast, relentless motion right under the frog's tiny armpits and down its sides.

Down on the couch, the double-pronged assault completely wrecked Giorno. He collapsed sideways onto the cushions, his legs curling up toward his chest as the agonizingly sharp, ticklish friction multiplied tenfold.

"N-Narancia! Mista, e-enoHOugh—!" Giorno wheezed out, his voice completely broken, dissolving into a breathless, desperate burst of suppressed laughter that he tried to smother against the leather. He slammed his fist hard against the couch, once, twice, a bang of pure frustration and helpless agony as his body betrayed him. He couldn't breathe, his lungs burned as the invisible fingers danced across his ribs.

Narancia’s hands froze dead in the air, the laughter completely dying in his throat. He strained his ears, his head tilting toward the main area below. He had caught his own name echoing from the other side of the safehouse. Mista paused too, lowering the blade of grass, both of them instantly switching into a dead silent listening mode.

Downstairs, Bruno Bucciarati's calm, authoritative voice carried up from the kitchen doorway, speaking directly to Fugo. "We need to restock our supplies. Fugo, we are sending Narancia to do the shopping."

Fugo’s response was immediate and thick with disbelief. "Narancia? Bucciarati, you can't be serious. He's way too reckless to handle this alone right now. If he slips up, he could expose us, put the whole team in jeopardy and more importantly, he could put the boss's daughter in direct danger! Why not let *me* go instead?"

"No," Bucciarati replied firmly. "Narancia is the only one who should go. His Stand ability is uniquely suited for this. If anyone tries to follow him from the market, Aerosmith will detect and track them instantly. He is the best choice to ensure no one leaves a tail."

Up on the loft landing, Narancia’s eyes went completely round. A massive, thrilled grin split across his face. Bruno, Bruno Bucciarati himself had explicitly chosen him for a mission based on his skill. Hyped up on pure validation, Narancia completely forgot about the prank. He scrambled to his feet, hopped off the loft landing, and practically flew toward the stairs to meet them, carelessly dropping the little green frog that had been sitting on his knee.

"Whoa—hey!" Mista hissed, lunging forward to catch the falling creature before it hit the floor below. But his fingers never made the contact. Mid-fall, with a faint clink, the tiny green frog vanished, reverting back into its original form. A harmless, ordinary grey pebble dropped onto the wooden steps and rolled down the stairs.

Down on the sofa, the suffocating wave of phantom sensations vanished. Giorno slumped heavily against the leather cushions, completely exhausted and catching his breath in long, ragged drafts. His trembling hand, which he had raised in a desperate final attempt to focus his willpower on the frog, dropped limply over the edge of the couch.

He stared blankly at the ceiling, letting out a faint, tired sigh. "Finally..." he muttered under his breath, his chest still heaving.

In the background, Fugo's sharp, lecturing voice was already echoing from the kitchen as Narancia bounded in. "Narancia, listen carefully. This is the list of food and other things you need to buy, and these are the keys to the car. If you lose either of them, I swear to God..."

[hanksposts]

The Price of Realism

Summary: Obsessed with realism but lacking experience, Rohan uses Heaven’s Door on Josuke to study the involuntary mechanics of tickling on himself for his manga.

Lee! Rohan Kishibe

Ler! Josuke Higashikata

A/N: My debut fic! This acc has been collecting dust for literal ages lol. I mostly just used it to watch non-tickle stuff but I finally decided to give writing a shot. Hope you guys enjoy

Rohan Kishibe sat at his desk, hunched in a posture entirely unbecoming of a man of his extreme precision. His pen hovered indecisively over the paper, sketched a single stroke, and stopped again.

This wouldn't do.

On the panel before him, a character was trapped in a fit of helpless laughter: limbs tense, mouth wide open, body seized by something as foolish as joy. Vines wound around the figure’s sides, ribs, and neck, forcing a reaction that should have been uncontrollable. And yet, something was wrong.

Not in anatomy, nor in composition, nor even in pacing. No, the issue was far more offensive than it might seem to the naked eye. The character who was supposed to have an uncontrollable reaction looked…pleasant.

The laughter the mangaka had drawn seemed too open, too willing. There was a lightness to it, a hint that the character was enjoying themselves.

Rohan clicked his tongue sharply. "Ridiculous." He tore the page out in one clean motion, and tossed it onto the pile of other failures.

Tickling, if depicted accurately, was not joy. It was an invasion. The body betraying itself, reacting in a manner completely devoid of dignity or control.

And yet, whenever Rohan tried to capture it, the paper lacked the violent resistance and desperate thrashing that should have distorted the page. His characters pulled away too politely, struggled too neatly, as if their bodies were following some unspoken etiquette rather than surrendering to a chaotic, involuntary impulse. The tension, the sharp edge of panic. It just wasn't there.

The truth was, Rohan Kishibe simply had no frame of reference. No one had ever actually tried to tickle him. Even as a child, he was far too prickly for that kind of play. On the rare occasion someone could reach for his neck. But it was just a brief, physical punctuation to verbal teasing. A fleeting scribble of fingers he’d swat away instantly.

Neither his grandmother nor his parents had ever pushed past his aloof exterior. Even Reimi, for all her warmth, hadn't subjected him to that particular brand of chaos, and the neighborhood boys wouldn't have dared.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be a problem. Rohan didn't need personal experience for every sensation he illustrated. Observation, research, and logical deduction were usually enough.

But this required precision, and precision required truth. Rohan wanted his manga to be as realistic as possible, so he couldn't simply ignore such a flaw. He couldn't allow the page to lie about the body’s betrayal, the mind’s helplessness, or that exact moment when control shatters and something primal and unbidden breaks free.

Which, by a frustrating stroke of luck, created a problem. Rohan Kishibe could not use his Stand on himself. Trying to do so would be like trying to tickle yourself, which, as we’re all perfectly aware, is nearly impossible.

A lesser individual might've given up at this point. But Rohan? Rohan was not a lesser individual. Naturally, he simply adjusted his approach.

His pen tapped once against the desk, a small, thoughtful punctuation. An external subject, then. Someone physically capable. Sufficiently durable and most importantly, someone unlikely to grasp the full significance of what was being asked of them…

–––

And the matter was settled.

Exactly fifteen minutes after the decision was made, the 'key' to Rohan’s dilemma was already walking up the path to his house, completely unaware of the role he was about to play.

Rohan watched from his window, tracking the obnoxious bounce of that signature, ridiculous hairstyle of Josuke's. He sat at his desk, fingers drumming in a restless beat. What am I even doing? a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his mind. Is this really worth the trouble? I’m not going to end up regretting this, am I?

There was a knock at the door. Rohan did not answer.

The door creaked open. "Uhh…hey, Rohan-sensei." Josuke Higashikata stepped inside, glancing around. "You said to come over, so I did, but you didn’t really explain the reason why—"

"Heaven’s Door!"

In the blink of an eye, half of Josuke’s face burst into pages that fluttered open, revealing every minute detail of his life. "R-Rohan-sensei?!" he stammered, and immediately lost his consciousness. His eyes rolled back, his legs gave way, sending him crashing hard against the nearby wall before sliding down, completely limp. In an instant, his form began to unravel. His face, arms, and torso burst into a mess of rustling pages, laying his entire being bare and defenseless.

"Don't be frightened." Rohan’s chair creaked in the silence of the room as he stood up from there. "I won't hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact. You'll be the one 'hurting' me. Though, discomfort would sound more appropriate in this case." Rohan said, kneeling before Josuke’s motionless body. He took out his pen and gripped one of the pages firmly. And his hand moved with swift, decisive strokes.

“I will continuously tickle Rohan Kishibe until I am ordered to stop,” he wrote.

Rohan’s gaze lingered on the line for a half-second longer. He tightened his grip on the pen. "...This is strictly for reference purposes." He withdrew the pen. Josuke’s pages snapped shut, and his eyes slowly began to flutter open.

–––

Josuke’s hands were relentless, his fingers digging into Rohan’s ribs and pinching at his sides with a precision that was as clinical as it was agonizing. Rohan twisted violently, his body coiling and recoiling like a spring as he tried to put any distance between himself and those searching, nimble fingers. "W-wait, wait! W-will- huff will you slow down for a moment..!" He gasped, his voice cracking on the edge. He was backing away, his heels scuffing the floor until his back hit the surface of the wall, but the assault didn't waver. There was no mercy in Josuke’s blank expression. The command was absolute, and the 'subject' was merely following the script Rohan had written himself.

The struggle grew more physical as Josuke’s subconscious took the most efficient path to fulfill the order. In a sudden and rough movement, Josuke’s foot swept behind Rohan’s, knocking his right leg into his left and sending the mangaka sliding helplessly down the wall. Before Rohan could even process the floor hitting his tailbone, Josuke was over him, straddling his knees and pinning both of Rohan’s wrists firmly above his head with one hand.

Rohan’s head was spinning, his breath hitching in short, jagged bursts as the tickling got even worse against his pinned, defenseless ribs. "J-Josuke! Hold ohon a dahamn moment!— I order yohou to s-sstaHAA— AhaHAha!!" he shrieked, the command "stop" dying in a throat-tightening spasm of laughter.

In a desperate, adrenaline-fueled reflex, Rohan summoned his Stand to forcibly rewrite the situation. Heaven’s Door manifested in a flash of gold and white, reaching out to peel back Josuke’s pages once more but it never reached him. To Rohan’s horror, Crazy Diamond had manifested instinctively to protect its user, its massive hands catching Heaven’s Door by the wrists. Since only a Stand can touch another Stand, the impact was direct. With a terrifying, subconscious cruelty, Crazy Diamond’s thick fingers began to mimic Josuke's movements, fluttering against Heaven’s Door’s sides. The sensation mirrored perfectly onto Rohan. His eyes widened in genuine shock as the dual assault sent his nervous system into a total meltdown. It was one thing to be handled by Josuke's quick fingers, but the ghostly, pressurized touch of Crazy Diamond against his Stand’s ribs was an entirely different level of violation.

Rohan’s reaction grew instantly wilder, his body arching off the wall in a desperate, frantic bridge. He thrashed against the floor, his weakened wrists straining and tugging uselessly against Josuke’s iron grip. The refined mangaka was gone, replaced by a mess of breathless giggles and hysteria. His sides cramped and his cheeks burned from the forced, painful grin, every shriek of laughter making it impossible to catch his breath.

"O-Oh my god—Josuke! Stoho- AHAA—!" He let out a sharp, hysterical shriek as Crazy Diamond’s fingers shifted focus, digging its thumbs relentlessly against Heaven’s Door’s hips. The sensation the transmitted onto Rohan, sending a fresh jolt through his nerves that made his head fall backwards and his legs kick out frantically behind Josuke’s back.

His sides were a mess of exhausting, high-pitched chuckling that he couldn't stop. As the dual-layered attack on his ribs and hips showed no sign of slowing down.

–––

The transition was abrupt. One moment the room was filled with the frantic noise of Rohan’s hysterics, and the next, silence crashed down like a weight.

Heaven’s Door was suddenly free, its wrists no longer pinned by Crazy Diamond’s massive grip. In the center of the room, Josuke stood blinking, his expression vacant as his face remained split open with the pages of Heaven's Door. On the pristine white surface of his cheek, fresh ink spelled out the command:

“I will forget everything that happened over the past hour”

"Rohan-sensei...?" Josuke finally muttered, his voice thick with confusion. He rubbed his eyes, looking around the studio as if he'd just woken up from a dream. The last thing he remembered was the final bell ringing at school and the long walk home alone. Now, he was suddenly straddling a flushed, panting mangaka on the floor, both their Stands still hovering in the air behind them.

Josuke scrambled back as he realized the position they were in. "Wait, what—did I... did something happen?"

Rohan did not answer. He remained slumped against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to reclaim his breath. His hair was a mess and his clothes were hopelessly rumpled, but he stayed silent, offering no explanation for the chaos or the lingering, dull ache in his sides. He simply watched Josuke with a quiet, hollow intensity, the 'truth' he had sought now safely locked away in his mind, even if he was too exhausted to pick up a pen.

[ticklish-ghost]

Is it self tickle if it’s your stand???

[mr-spamtenna]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Deltarune (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Spamton G. Spamton/Tenna Characters: Spamton G. Spamton, Tenna (Deltarune) Summary:

Spamton finds out that Tenna has an interesting form of punishment for stealing, and it gives Spamton all kinds of ideas… and sticky fingers.

AHHH Here it is!! A @coy-lee inspired fic!! See the art here!

Keep reading

[willowsayshi]

tickling someone’s tummy n every time they push my hand away it immediately just goes rightttt back to their tummy like a magnet ^_^

[randommusicalfluff]

Did anyone ask for this? Hell no!! Am I still very obsessed with these gay birds? Absolutely 😭✋🏾

[solarsensitivities]

Janitorial Duties

Robert has an encounter with SDNs newest janitor. Robert has never regretted promoting Waterboy more.

Words: 1,315

Beware - This is a tickle fic!

A/N: First official Solar fic!! Kinda. It started as more of a concept post so it's super inconsistent rn but god damn it i wanted to post so. Cranked this shit out in like. 90 minutes. Fully unbeta'd sooo I will in fact return to this later when it's not super late!! Hope yall enjoy though :3

~

When Waterboy gets added to the Z-Team, he still keeps up with his janitorial duties until after Shroud. Post-Shroud Waterboy has accepted his role as a full time hero! So obviously now SDN needs a new janitor.

But instead of going through the whole search-and-hire process all over again, they enlist Royd to make a little cleaning bot. The little guy is about the height of a dispatcher's desk, stocky to hold all the cleaning supplies and extra arms. He's equipped with feather dusters, various fluffy cleaning brushes, rags, a mop, a broom, vacuum, etc, but we all know those first two are what's most important here. Royd actually took some tech and mild inspiration from Shroud's freaky ass mech, adding little arms close to the body alongside the ranged appendages as well.

Robert is...vaguely aware of the bots existence. Doesn't think too much of it, just knows he sees the little dude roaming around the office wiping down counters, picking up trash, vacuuming the halls, etc.

It isn't until he comes in early one morning after a rough shift as Mecha Man the night before, needing to do some repairs on the suit before his shift started, that he becomes very aware of the little guy. He's been storing the suit in Royd's workshop, since they added a launch hatch in the crater above the room during the post-Shroud repairs. Tucked away in the corner behind the suit is the little robot, slotted in it's charging bay, awaiting 6:00am to begin its patrol. Robert doesn't pay it much mind as he sets about working on repairs until about an hour later, when an unfamiliar blue glow sets about scanning the room. Robert pulls out from under the suit, his chest and arms covered in soot and grime from working in just a dingy tank-top. The little cleaning robot has pulled out of it's bay, making its way around scanning the room and cleaning as it goes. Every time the little guy comes across an area to clean, the blue light flashes to red, and it sets about using whatever tool it deems necessary for the mess at hand.

It's another ten minutes until the cleaning bot comes around close to the mech. Robert's moved on to working on some of the external damage, still just as grimy and sooty. He watches as the blue light descends from the top of the mech down, until it's upon him, and the light flashes red.

In an instant, there's damp rags accosting him, trying to wipe off the soot. He quickly steps down from the platform he was working from, but clearly the little bot did not appreciate a moving target. It only takes a second more for the rag arms to disappear, and for clawed arms to take their place.

"Hey! Fuck, um, shut down! Off! Turn off!" But Robert's attempts at override are very much ignored as he feels a metallic appendage close around his right wrist and hoist him in the air. Just barely enough for his toes to touch the ground.

He's expecting a few minutes of discomfort. For the rags to come back out and wipe him down, then let him go. What he does not expect is for two arms with gray feathery dust brushes to reemerge in the rags' place. His stomach sinks.

"No! Off, turn o-off, shut down, power d-down, power-FUCK!" His attempts to shut the little robot down are in vain, as the dusters start at his exposed collarbones, but big enough to flutter up to assault his neck and ears as well.

He tried to hold it in. Really, he did! Held his breath and froze every muscle in his body. But it felt like eternity trying to hold in the shrieks and cackles that devilish sensation evoked in him. Robert swore he could feel every single fluffy feather on those stupid brushes as they scrubbed up and down across his chest, but realistically what felt like forever was certainly no more than 20 seconds.

Robert has not been tickled in at least 15 years. Probably longer if he was being honest. With that in consideration, Robert would like to make the argument that his reaction when he finally broke was not overkill, thank you very much.

"FUCK- FUCK YOU NO NO NOHOHO-"

It was the kind of shriek that reverberated through the room, followed by the uncontrollable cackling of someone who was very much not used to this. The brushes had moved to target his neck proper, and it allowed them to really swish by his ears. The combination of rapid fluttering across his neck and by-proxy flutters at his ears was too much, and he broke.

He wasn't high enough off the ground to make any truly meaningful movement, but he also wasn't close enough to the ground either. It left him stretched out and taut like a bowstring, and all the flailing of his remaining free arm got him was another mechanical claw shooting out to restrain that one too. He felt his arms adjust to more of a "Y" position, the bot stretching them out to get at his shoulders and armpits.

He could feel the heat in his cheeks and ears burning, and it only got worse when one of the brushes made to move towards his upper back and shoulder blades and Robert snorted. Honestly he didn't think he was capable of making noises like that anymore. Hell, even when Chase used to tickle him as a kid he never made that noise. Granted, Chase never tried to tickle his back, but still.

It almost felt vindictive when the robot moved the other brush to clean off his upper back too. The gentle feathery touch combined with the rapid dusting of someone trying to clean a countertop sent shocks of sensation so powerful that it felt like someone had taken every nerve and twisted them all up until all he could feel was how much it tickled.

His legs were kicking and swinging violently back and forth, trying to do anything, to escape, to lessen the sensation, anything. Royd must have put some insane grip strength in the stupid thing if it hadn't dropped him by now.

When it finally decided to move on from that fucking spot, Jesus- it started trailing back across his shoulders and armpits, then up across his arms to clean them off. For the most part, it was a reprieve from the tickly sensations he had just been made to endure, up until he felt that feathery feeling brush against the underside of his bicep. He had been able to take some deep breaths while it took care of his lower arms, but once it approached the thin sensitive skin above his armpits, he erupted back into tired giggles. Though it seemed whoever was out there was on his side for once, because it wasn't long after the bot had targeted that spot on each side that he felt the brushes slide away from his skin, leaving only tingles in their wake. He wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes, but he let himself focus on the darkness and trying to catch his breath. Of course, this meant that when the rags from earlier returned to wipe away what little was left on his skin he was wholly unprepared and caught off-guard, but thankfully the slightly rough cloth wasn't enough to set his nerves alight once again.

When the little bot was done with its task, Robert felt the silicone-padded claws release, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes to the floor. The blue light from earlier scanned over him once again and this time flashed green, and the little cleaning robot left Robert alone on the floor of Royd's workshop in a puddle of giggles to put himself back together again.

[coy-lee-q]

Headcanon the Addisons didn't think Spamton was ticklish growing up. They accidentally discovered he's very ticklish when they're much older. Oh, how to make up for all those times they could've used this.

What an interesting concept...

Bet

Sunday, January 29th, 1995

Spamton knocked on the door to apartment 2B in the high rise of the Data district. Nice part of town, clean, well lit. He could hear music playing inside. The vibe was lively, and Spamton felt his lips twitch to a small smile as he sighed. Still so young and yet his brothers were living well. They were only developed and released last year and were already all grown up from their booming markets. Each with their own apartments, good reputations, strong handle on salesmanship. He was happy about that even if it confused him... and made him a little self conscious. One day he could have an apartment too. Better yet, maybe even a ritzier place. Or even a room in Queen's mansion! Why think small!? He could-

-The door opened-

"Heya, Spammy! Glad you decided to show up!" Yellow greeted holding a cup of something sweet and pungent.

"Yeah, yeah. I was gonna work tonight, but everyone else in the city is gonna be watching the big screen anyway. May as well pester you boys," Spamton responded casually, walking inside.

"Well, pester away~," Yellow chuckled, ruffling Spamtons fluffy white locks, closing the door. Spamton swatted at the offending hand, smoothing his hair back down. He paused, taking in the environment. The livingroom was set up for a party, the coffee table littered with drinks and big bowls of snacks. The monitor screen was tapping into a newer developing feature. Something called streaming? Times were changing so fast, but Spamton didn't mind. More opportunities. He followed his nose to find the other three Addisons in the kitchen, setting out the hot food and chatting amongst themselves.

"Hey, shortstack. You come over for a free meal?" Pink asked with a sarcastic tease, setting a platter of fresh data cookies on the counter.

"Why else why I come over to visit you snot nosed hooligans?" he grinned back to match Pink's sarcasm.

"Aw, I thought it was because you loved us," Orange fake pouted.

"Alright, ya got me. I like hanging out with you kiddos," Spamton smiled before ironically standing on his tippy toes to peek at the steaming pizza on the dinning room table. His nose twitched as he got a good wiff of the fresh food.

"You need us to give you some space with that pizza?" Pink commented flatly.

"Yes," Spamton responded, drooling a bit.

"No way! I'm too hungry to let pipsqueak take the whole thing," Yellow said, picking Spamton up playfully. The white Addison squealed in protest.

"Hey there's two whole other pizzas! Can't a spam bot have a treat every now and then?" Spamton tried to argue.

"Nice try, but I doubt you could even eat a whole pizza by yourself," Blue smirked.

"Don't tempt me," Spamton huffed, being held in Yellow's arms casually. He'd complain, but this view of the spread was kind of nice.

They all continued to talk and tease eachother, each making a plate and heading to the livingroom. Pink took his seat in his recliner, Blue sitting in the opposite one. Orange and Yellow sat on the couch, and Spamton was seated between them.

"So... This 'super bowl' thing... People have parties to watch Lightners play a showy game of football?" Yellow spoke up, looking to Spamton. This was the banner Addisons' very first superbowl experience. They all looked to the OG internet ad for answers.

"That's one way to put it, I guess, " he shrugged, picking up his second slice of pizza already. "All the teams play eachother throughout the uh... Game season?... Until two are left and then they play to see who has the best team of the year... Or something. I've never paid too much attention to it."

"And that's fun? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll take any excuse for a party, but... Seems kinda lame," Orange commented.

Spamton swallowed his bite before responding "Well, it's more than just the sports stuff. A lot of people just watch it for the ads-" All the Addisons perked up immediately.

"The ads!? People actually WATCH the super bowl thingy for the ADS!?" Pink seemed genuinely excited now.

"Well yeah, everyone pools their money into making the best ads to play during the most watched event of the year, duh. And it's definitely the highlight of the whole thing if you ask me."

"WHEN WERE YOU GONNA TELL US THIS CRITICAL INFO!? I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST SOME BORING SPORTS GAME!" Orange exclaimed.

"A night full of the best ADS!? Should I be taking notes-"

"I might take notes-"

"If this is even half as good as it sounds, we're doing this every year-"

"And here I was planning to drink my way through the whole thing-" the Addisons chattered. Spamton chuckled, feeling the mood shift dramatically.

"You kids are adorable," he smirked, munching on a cookie.

"We're Addisons, of COURSE we're adorable, and there's no need to be cheeky about hiding the fact that the super bowl is actually worth watching!" Pink snapped back.

"Hahahaeha, I wasn't hiding it from you. Ya never asked," he shrugged.

For the next hour, the Addisons learned exactly what Spamton meant, and they were NOT disappointed. Pink always turned the stream up for the ads, turning it down for the actual game itself. They'd all be on the edge of their seats watching the television ads like they were the sporting event itself. After another ad break was done, they all sat back again.

"Wow, that last one was neat... You really think that company can pull that off by next year?" Orange asked.

"They better. Can you imagine? I'd love to get my hands on that product, business would go NUTS!" Pink grinned.

"I garuntee that'll be on the market before next year. I've been eyeing that company over the years, and it'll boom for sure. It's got all the hallmarks of the next big thing and they develop ahead of schedule regularly," Spamton commented like some rich tycoon. Rich in knowledge at least. He'd been around long enough.

"The TV ads are so cool... So different. Really takes the art of advertising to the max," Blue said, his imagination running.

"I'd love to get a piece of that pie. Being an ad on TV? Sounds like the pinnacle for an Addison," Yellow added.

"Yeah, but we're internet Addisons. I don't think we can just hop on TV. It wouldn't translate well," Pink pointed out.

"So... Are there TV Addisons? There's gotta be, right?" Orange asked.

Spamton shrugged. "Who knows," he mumbled with a mouth full of pretzels, but there was a sparkle in his eye at the idea of being a TV Addison. That sounded rather glamorous.

Orange stood up, setting his plate on his seat while he went to the kitchen for a drink refill. Spamton eyed that plate while his brothers kept talking over the game. Orange left his last slice of pizza just sitting there within Spamton's reach. This was his first meal today so he couldn't help himself. Besides, Orange could easily get another one. He slyly swiped the abandoned slice from the unsupervised plate and immediately started to bite into it. Orange came back, spotting the the missing from his plate.

"HEY! Hold on, where did my- SPAMTON G, IS THAT MY PIZZA!?" Orange bristled at the sight of Spamton halfway through a slice of pizza that looked exactly like the one he had on his plate moments before, minus a big bite of course.

"Uhhh..." he swallowed the mouthful, "It's already cold. I didn't want it being wasted... Ehehe..." he tried to weasle out of potential trouble with a guilty little chuckle.

"I don't care if it's cold now, I was still gonna eat it you little-" Orange made a grab for what was left of it, Spamton jerking it away with a squawk. Yellow leaned backwards to avoid being smacked with the coveted half eaten slice.

"If you break anything you're paying for it," Pink said, not blaming Orange for escalating the situation.

"Give it!" Orange demanded, halfway sitting on Spamton.

"It's too late! My germs!"

"YOU THINK I CARE!? GIVE IT!" Orange was leaning over Spamton, trying to grab the pizza. Spamton acted quickly, shoving the rest in his mouth like a chipmunk and chewing it with a devious smile. "YOU SNAKE!" Spamton swallowed it with a grin.

"All gone. If you want more there's still some in the kitchen. You can even microwave it first~," he said, a little too cocky.

Orange was fuming. "I know that, but this isn't about the pizza anymore. IT'S ABOUT THE PRINCIPLE!"

"Oh come on, lighten up. It's not like it was the last piece," Spamton said nonchalantly, patting his belly. Orange finally pounced, pinning Spamton on his stomach to put him in a headlock for a noogie. Spamton despised having his hair messed up like that. Yellow watched the tussle from the next cushion over, casually eating his candy like he was watching a spectacle, but as the orange Addison wrapped his arm around Spamton's neck, his thumb grazed from under Spamton's chin, into the crook of his neck making the smaller ad choke out a squeak and a chortal, shoulders coming up to protect himself. Spamton had never felt that before, like a jolt of electric giddiness. His eyes went wide and Orange was about to commence his intended vengeance when the the onlooker inches away spoke up.

"Wait WAIT, " Yellow grabbed Orange's hand. Spamton let out a breath of relief, unaware of the suspicious eyes of the fellow spiky haired ad.

"What!? Is there a reason you're impeding justice right now?" Orange questioned.

Yellow answered by extending his left hand, gently worming his fingers into the crook of Spamton's neck. The white Addison gasped, squealed, and tittered. He hunched his shoulders up again as giggles bubbled out of his throat against his will. Orange went wide eyed; Yellow had a matching expression. He pulled his hand away, the two making eye contact before grinning like maniacs.

"You're ticklish?" Yellow finally said. Spamton froze. Was he?... He had no idea.

"Am I???" he looked up from his awkward position, absolutely confused. Orange squeezed Spamton's side gently, and Spamton jerked in the pin, squeaking before laughing again. "AHAhaeha! WAIT!" The word came out on its own as the overwhelming feeling triggered it automatically. Is that what it felt like??? Giddy AND overwhelming? This was confusing.

Blue and Pink finally stopped talking and looked over, not caught up on the discovery or the reason why the fight was paused.

Pink raised a brow, "You just gonna sit on him all night or-"

"He's ticklish," Orange said. The room went quite.

Then-

"You're kidding-" Pink spoke up.

"Nope," Yellow beamed. The next thing Spamton knew, Blue and Pink were both standing up, slowly walking over as Orange sat up, pulling Spamton into his lap.

"Well well well.... You mean to tell me that the little bastard that used to tickle us all the time back in the day... is also ticklish?" Pink said, vengeful intent dripping from his voice.

"ITS NEWS TO ME TOO YOU DONT HAVE TO RUB IT IN!" Spamton snapped.

"You sure you weren't hiding THAT from us too? How could you NOT know!?" Yellow demanded.

"Hellooooo, spamware??? You guys are unique in not thinking I'll give you a virus from you even LOOKING at me let alone touchin' me. How COULD I know!?"

"Fair enough... But I don't see why it took us so long to even ask the question if you were ticklish," Orange mumbled.

"Well it's certainly not MY fault. I'm just as surprised as you!" Spamton wiggled in Orange's grip.

Blue chuckled, standing in front of Spamton next to Pink. "This guy? This cocky little fella? The ad tickle monster himself? He's actually ticklish...?" Blue smirked. Spamton squirmed a bit more as he was surrounded, Orange's arms holding him like a seat belt. He felt like prey all the sudden.

"L-look, come on. I-it's a right of passage, isn't it? You guys seemed to like it, I don't see why you're acting like it's some transgression that deserves penance! I was supposed to, wasn't I!?" Spamton tried to explain.

"Oh, it was fun," Yellow grinned.

"speak for yourself" Pink mumbled.

"It was SO much fun. We want you to have JUST as much fun as WE did," Yellow finished with a grin. In an effort of silent coordination, all four colored Addisons grabbed a limb, taking Spamton to the carpeted floor. Spamton yelped, cut off with an 'oof', wriggling as his younger siblings all wrangled him into a starfish position, each sitting on an arm or leg.

"THIS ISN'T EVEN REMOTELY FAIR!" he struggled, easily overpowered by four brothers, each double his size.

"Well, now you know what it was like for us," Blue teased, the others chuckling.

"BUT THERE WAS ONLY ONE OF ME! THERE'S FOUR OF YOU!" he squealed.

"Right, right, well you should have thought about that, munchkin," Yellow shot back. Spamton laid there, slightly terrified. That feeling from before, he was about to feel a whole lot of it, and he still couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was just worried it would all be too much at once.

"Hey, H-HEY hold on, I was never mean, you gotta gimme that much credit!"

"Mean? Who said anything about being mean? We're paying you back just the way you used to do it, dummy," Orange scoffed like Spamton's concerns were crazy, he did shoot Pink a warning glance though.

Pink rolled his eyes. "Right. Just the way he used to... Which honestly... Is much funnier, " Pink relented his hardass persona a bit.

"Well, now that we're all on the same page, I think there's someone who deserves to taste his own medicine~" Blue spoke up, wiggling his fingers a few inches above Spamton's left side and ribs. The white Addison tensed at the sight.

"Awww, don't tell me that's gettin to ya," Yellow teased, mimicking Blue's movements on the opposite side. Spamton didn't even know how to respond. He felt his nerves already tingling, a giddiness in his belly at the threat of more of that feeling from earlier.

Orange chuckled at the sight, joining in with his hands poised over Spamton's belly. A goofy, nervous grin started to take over his face and a giggle slipped out when Yellow taunted, "We're gonna getchya~" Damnit, they really were gonna turn his own antics of the past on him. Pink just shook his head, gently squeezing at Spamton's left knee to stop the stalling. The other three were pleased and surprised when Spamton burst into giggles immediately, wiggling and tossing his head.

"AHAHEAHahah! AAH! AHEEheeheahee! Thihihis feeheeheels fuhuUHUHUhunny!?" Spamton said through his laughter, sounding baffled, but not miserable. Pink actually smiled, seeing that the simple tickle to Spamton's knee alone was making him laugh like that. The others giggled with him, finding it all too amusing too before their hands decended. Their fingers danced gently in the way Spamton would when they were younger, teasing his ribs and armpits and sides and belly. "EEEEK!!! AHAHEAHAEAHAHA! WAHAHAIT I CAHAHAN'T-PFFFFFFT HAHAEAHA!" The words tumbled out of his mouth all on their own.

Spamton couldn't even begin to accurately describe the feeling. It was like giddy electricity, traveling to his core and making him laugh. It really did feel funny, like hitting your funny bone minus the pain.... Actually it felt A LOT like that. It was driving him a little mad, wanting nothing more than to crawl away from those wiggling fingertips, but he also... didn't? He couldn't wrap his head around it. And even if he could focus past the feeling to try, the verbal teasing began and any hope of thinking at all was lost. All those times when he would tease them came back ten fold.

"Tickle tickle tickle!"

"Awwww, what's-a-matter, Spammy? Does this tickle?"

"Are you ticklish here? What about here?"

"Is this a sweet spot? I think it iiiiis~"

"I got your belly! Gitchy gitchy goo!~"

Blue, Orange, and Yellow wouldn't. Shut. Up. Spamton shrieked as the words shot through him. He'd never been talked to like that ever in his entire life. He'd never had someone... Never had anyone... Even pretend to... No one was there for him when he was first programmed... Is this what it felt like to be... He couldn't even think about that right now. He was too overwhelmed, especially as his belly was now being targeted by four hands instead of just two as if that wasn't more than enough. His laughter rose in pitch and he tossed his head as he felt Pink teasing his toes now as well. He was in stitches and they just started thirty seconds ago max.

The Addisons weren't even making an effort to map out Spamton's tickle spots. They were just trying the obvious places at random to make him laugh, which was working incredibly well. They continued to coo at him the way he would, paying him in full and then some for old time's sake. Pink, on the other hand, was pretty quiet, focusing on the task at hand. Eventually though...

"I don't understand how you don't make much money when you're this cute. You're as marketable as it gets," Pink said casually, if not sounding a little jealous. Spamton squealed at those words, something in his heart panging at the comment. That struck him where it counted. They all heard a shift in Spamton's laughter and witnessed his expression go from overwhelmed giggly confusion to pure joy.

"Whoa! Did that get to ya, munchkin?" Yellow grinned.

"He sounds so happy!" Blue smiled, moving a hand up to fluff Spamton's hair.

"... Was it something I said?" Pink perked up, confused. He was just being honest.

Orange grew a sly smile, "You're right, Pink. In fact, he's so cute, I think I might have him help me model my next outfit."

"WhatHAHat!? ORANGE I-" Jackpot.

"You'd probably double your sales so long as he's wearing that big smile of his," Yellow added, pinching Spamton's cheek playfully with a free hand.

"SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP! AhahEAHAEAHhahEHA! " Spamton was going stir crazy being bombarded with an ad's dream compliments from all sides while fluttering fingers tickled him all over.

"And that silly laugh! It's so charming, you should use it to your advantage," Blue continued to push.

"NOHOHhohoho wahahahay! Ihihi'm nohoHOHOT GONNA-"

"Hold that thought, bud. I just remembered something," Yellow interrupted. Spamton watched, wiggling and giggling as the tickles continued, squeaking when his shirt was lifted up to his bottom ribs. Yellow took a deep, dramatic breath, and Spamton immediately knew what move was being made.

"PBBBBBBT!"

"WAIT WAHAIT WAIT! YEHEHELLOW WA-EEEEHEEHEAHEEHEE!" It was too late. Spamton cackled at the buzzing feeling of a raspberry being blown on his left side.

"Good call! I almost forgot about that," Blue's eyes lit up mischievously before he joined in on the other side, making the white Addison squeal and double over in laughter. Pink and Orange took a moment to watch the silly chaos, stilling their fingers. This was ridiculous, but Spamton certainly earned it. He didn't even seem to hate it either. He was squirming like mad, but he wasn't screeching threats or calling 'uncle'. No, he seemed to be enjoying all the attention.

"Awww, can't handle what you dish out, pipsqueak? Emphasis on the 'squeak', " Orange teased.

"IHIHI CAN HANDLE- EEEHEEHEAHAHAAA!" Spamton's refutaion was cut off when Pink decided to start squeezing his knees again, followed by a couple more raspberries from Blue and Yellow. The ones that migrated to his tummy made the little Addison squeal and babble incoherent nonsense.

"Suuuuure ya caaan," Orange chuckled with a smirk. His fingers started to crawl into the crook of Spamtons neck on both sides, making the smaller Addison hunch his shoulders and squeal. There was no way this was even remotely fair.

"IHIHI WAHAS NEHEHEVER THIhihihis RUTHLESS!" he skrieked as the feeling became more than he could process again.

"I don't know, you could be an assmunch sometimes," Yellow commented.

"THERE WASN'T FOHOHOUR OF ME!"

"And the world is better off for it," Pink retorted. His fingers wormed behind Spamton's knees now, and the white Addison shrieked before devolving into a cackling mess at the combo.

"His face is getting a bit red-"

"Like an adorable little lobster!"

"I can't even tell where his natural blush is anymore... "

"Man, I think he's worse than all of us... How did it take us this long to find out!?"

All exchanged looks, they paused their fingers to let him breath.

"Yohohou... Haaa... Yohou guys... Are... So... Cruel... " Spamton was barley able to choose his words. He took in air heartily, tuning out as his mind swam in the endorphins from laughing so much. His head was still spinning a bit from the experience. The ghostly tingles left over kept him from fully relaxing, causing him to twitch every now and then. The hand that found itself fluffing his hair brought him back from the edge of his wandering mind.

"We really weren't doing muhuhuch," Blue giggled.

"Lies.... Liiiies- you were," Spamton refuted lazily.

"I guess the power of four is just too much for the poor guy," Yellow shook his head dramatically.

"He's got a head start in paying each of us back at least," Orange spoke up, teasing a flutter of fingertips against Spamton's ribs for one last giggle. Spamton did indeed have a lot of tickles to pay for.

"And now I have ammunition for anytime the little twerp tries starting something with me," Pink mumbled.

"Nooooo you don't. This... This isn't ammo... For ANYTHING... " Spamton whined as he caught his breath, leaning his head back against the carpet again. This was absolutely ammo for anything and everything. Part of him hated the idea of his brothers having another way to mess with him, but another part of him was happy at the thought this method might easily replace all the ones they used before. He'd take this over the normal rough housing for sure. He often needed a good laugh after the crappy days he often had. This experience made him feel something he couldn't say he'd ever truly felt before. Like he had a chance. Like his bad luck was just that, and it's not that he wasn't marketable enough. Like people actually cared about him now. It's not that they didn't before, his brothers that is, but this just felt... Different. And as if that wasn't enough,

"I call dibs on holding the half-pint while he recovers from his TERRIBLE treatment," Yellow said, being dramatic to tease Spamton. Before the Email Addison could speak up-

"What!? You think you can keep him to yourself!?" Blue exclaimed. Spamton was looking between the two as Pink got up to sit back in his chair. Orange hugged Spamton while the other two bickered, grinning.

"Seriously, bubs, you're too cute when you're not being a menace. I wasn't joking about you helping me model my outfits," Orange said, slyly kidnapping Spam from the custody of Yellow and Blue. "And obviously I'll pay you for it."

Spamton was weak to the prospect of money... But, "If it's not money I earn through my purpose, I don't want it. It would feel like a hand out. I dont need-"

"-Then I'll pay you in cookies."

"DEAL," the white Addison said faster than he could process. Orange smiled, falling back onto the floor, holding Spamton in a cozy hug. The other two finally noticed.

"HEY!" Blue yelped in realization.

"Are you bogarting the giggle bug!?" Yellow shouted.

"If you DARE let that name stick, you better keep an eye open when you go to sleep in my vicinity," Spamton glared.

"I'm not bogarting anything! There's room," Orange reasoned. Blue and Yellow practically pounced, flanking Orange and Spamton. The little guy was lucky he wasn't claustrophobic as he was caged in by four arms. Both of Orange's and one of Yellow and Blue's each. He couldn't remember a time he felt this warm before.

"Pink's missing out~"

"He's too stubborn. Laaaaame."

"I guess we'll have a foundational family moment without him. Oh well."

"I'm not sure that'll coax him out of his isolation den... I'm not sure he's even capable of being nice to me," Spamton said, definitely not poking the pink bear too. A pillow was launched at Spamton's face from Pink's chair. "AHH-" the impact was comically soft. The sassiest Addison, maybe only rivaling Spamton, got up with a huff. He went to the other chair, tossing it's pillow at the pile of ad programs too. Then the couch pillows and the throw blankets. They each used the pillows they were bombarded with to get comfortable on the floor as Pink intended, even if he was grumbling about how there was no way he'd get on the floor with them. Instead he laid on the couch, directly behind the cuddle puddle and patted Spamton's head before leaving a hand lazily on the smallest Addison's shoulder. He sighed, remote in his free hand.

"Ads are back," Pink said, smiling out of sight of the others. He turned the volume up, and they watched the part of the event they actually enjoyed. The floor, padded with pillows was the main seat in the house for the rest of the party, Spamton in the middle of the snuggly pile, being lulled to sleep by the comfort and the chatter of his siblings. He dreamed big dreams, sleeping in the most comfortable conditions he'd ever experienced. Yellow, Orange, and Blue would probably regret not moving the cuddle pile to the couch tomorrow, but for now, they could care less. It was comfortable right now and Spamton sleeping on Orange's chest made none of them want to move. He looked peaceful and happy.

Even though he was verbally combative at times and had a loud personality to rival anyone, they knew enough about his situation to not shun him for being the way he was. They all had their flaws, and Spamton's stemmed from his physical size and life experience. Seeing him happy was something they couldn't pass up.

They'd definitely have to do this again.

Spamton looked forward to it.

[coy-lee-q]

Headcanon Spamton accidentally discovered how ticklish Tenna's feet are after a long, awful day. Spamton decided to give the tired, sore feet a massage. Tenna tried so hard not to react, but Spamton figured out quickly and pretended he's just massaging the ticklish feet and toes. Plus, it's playful revenge for tickling themailman earlier.

... 👀 (there's a treat or two under the cut)

"Boy am I glad the show's over," the TV host sighed, walking into his office. The digital darkner sitting in the seat across from Tenna's office throne perked up from his work.

"I thought you loved your job. You're always bragging about it," he commented, catching a glance at Tenna's downward tilted screen. It was black, his mouth the only thing visible. A frown.

"Usually... But some nights don't go so well. It's a long story... And even I don't have most of the details." Tenna plopped in his chair. "I can't do my job when they mute me," his voice was a touch bitter.

"Ihihi know a thing or two about that. Sucks..." Spamton chuckled, understanding the feeling all too well himself.

"Yeah. Sucks. I even had to do a musical number the second they hit that dumb button to 'talk'. I was dancing and everything! What a waste..." he flopped his arms down dramatically, sinking in his seat. "Uuuuuuhg my dogs are barking for NUTHIN."

Spamton was trying his hardest not to laugh at his business partner's whining, trying to focus on putting his data sheets and project folder in his briefcase. Tenna toed off his shoes under the desk, not thinking twice before lifting his legs, dropping his feet on the thick slab of mahogany in front if him, black dress socks sliding across it. Spamton had just moved his briefcase to the floor, and just in time too. Tenna's long legs stretched across three quarters of the desk. Spamton had to make an effort to see the TV past his unapologetic puppies.

"Charming..." the salesman deadpanned.

"It's my office. I can do what I want."

"I suppose I can't fault a man for ruling his domain as he sees fit... But the view is a bit uh... Ya know... Doesn't promote a productive work environment," Spamton commented.

"That's easy. Don't work. Take a load off. It's 9pm!" Tenna responded.

"I didn't get where I am now by wasting good hours-"

"-No more work tonight while you're in my kingdom, that's an order."

"You're not my king-"

"My kingdom, my rules. Queen's law isn't mine and mine isn't hers. Now sit your butt in that chair and relax," Tenna glared at him with authority, the view rather silly framed by Tenna's feet.

"Yeeeees, your majesty," Spamton rolled his eyes. Tenna sighed deeply, his chair creeking as he leaned it back a bit, his antenna drooping as he tried to go limp. Spamton was already getting antsy as his workaholic tendancies started to protest. "So I had this idea-"

"Nope. Don't even start."

"..."

"..."

"...hypothetically speaking, if we changed the jingle of that-"

"Spamton."

"Alright alright, geewiz. I'll just... Ask you tomorrow I guess," Spamton surrendered fully.

"I'll gladly hear it tomorrow," Tenna crossed his arms.

Spamton sat there, bored out of his mind and sitting in the large shadow of a pair of feet that were definitely depreciating the value of the property he was perched on. As he sat there, debating if he could run fast enough to get back on Queen's territory before Tenna caught him and forced him back into this deafeningly silent chamber to "relax", Spamton glanced back up at the subpar view, and a nagging little idea started to grow. 'He's tired, grumpy, in a very authoritative mood. I'm gonna go stir crazy from all this quiet... But... Maybe I could butter him up a bit... Get him to relax the rules enough to get back to work.' He eyed those feet with a plan. 'Leverage'.

Spamton stood up in his chair, climbing onto the desk.

"Wha-hey, I said to-"

"Relax, Tens. Don't get your panties in a twist, I'm not working," Spamton reassured, little hands gently gripping the sides of Tenna's left foot.

"EEK! Wha-what are you doing!?" Tenna was gripping the arms of his chair, antenna shooting up in surprise, his toes curling.

"You said your feet hurt. Well you're in luck, twinkle toes~" he winked. "Spammy's on the case!"

"That nickname better not stick or so help mEeEeE! Careful!" Tenna cringed as tiny thumbs rubbed circles against the black fabric of is sock, focusing gentle pressure into his arch. Spamton grinned his winning smile, definitely not trying to butter up his bossy business partner or anything.

"Feels good, right?"

"It feels like you-don't-know-what-you're-doing!" Tenna squirmed upwards in his chair.

"Probably because I don't, haha! Hold up. Let me look up a tutorial, " Spamton said, closing his eyes. Tenna sighed with relief as the touch disappeared momentarily, slumping in his chair.

"'Look up a tutorial'?" the TV finally registered.

"Yeah... Wow it's loading slow... The hourglass won't stop turning... NO CONNECTION!? Oh... Yeah... I'm away from the Queen's RAM..." Spamton opened his eyes with an awkward chuckle. "Well, we're just gonna wing it. I just won't dig too hard," he shrugged before massaging his palm into Tenna's left arch. Tenna yelped, tensing up again before relaxing a little.

"Oo... Actually that's kinda nice... Aaahhhh... " Tenna laid his head back a bit. Spamton smirked. It was working!... Maybe.

"Hahaha, if I do a good job, I should charge ya," Spamton grinned.

"No chance-" he breathed out.

"What!? A businessman doesn't do-", Spamton paused as Tenna squeaked, trying to raise his coat collar to shield his face as he silently tittered to himself. Spamton raised a confused brow before glancing down at his hand, palm against the ball of Tenna's foot, fingertips digging gently under the toes from his distracted verbal clapback. A grinch like grin stretched across his cheeks.

"Why are you st-stopping? Just keep doing that thing you were doing earlier-" Tenna waved, freezing at the sight of Spamton's expression.

"Yes sir," he relaxed his smile, massaging his palm into Tenna's sole like before. Tenna relaxed again. He must have just been paranoid.... Right? Spamton let go for a moment, crawling on the desk to shift his position, sitting on Tenna's ankles.

"Wait, wait why are you moving???" Tenna asked nervously, not a fan of being unable to see his feet past Spamton.

"Relax. I can work with my fingers more from this side."

"B-but I liked the palms."

"No way, that's not good enough. Gonna make sure every ache and pain gets a detailed work over," Spamton responded, gripping Tenna's left foot again. Tenna squeaked.

"Noho wait I really don't need you to-Pfffhfhfhfht- SPAM!" Tenna gripped the arms of his chair, pounding a fist on one as Spamton gently dug his fingers into the arch and outer side of Tenna's sole. He started to wriggle those little fingers in a bit.

"Ohoho SHOOT! Spahahamton! *snrk* USE YOUR PALMS!"

"Why would I do that? It sounds like the massage is helping with your mood too~" Spamton teased, fingers gently tickling, still moving in a way that could be considered massaging if you squinted.

"Pfhfhfh Nohoho! It's... Khkhkhk it's not.... IT'S NOT THE SAME!" He shook his head, hands looking for anything to grip or hold or swat or do ANYTHING to distract himself from the tingly feeling between the ticklish jolts. His toes curled and splayed, foot rocking side to side a bit as he tried to endure this. It honestly did feel good, even the tickle felt nice, but that didn't make it any more bearable. He was fighting to keep from laughing. This was ridiculous. "Come oooohohon just do it right alreadeeheeheehy, " he whined.

"Oh....Ooooooooh." Spamton smirked back at him. "Tennaaaaa~," Spamton sang, looking over his shoulder, deciding to play his card.

"Whaaaaat?" he half growled.

"Don't tell me... Does the big bad boss have ticklish tootsies?~"

"SPAMTON YOU LITTLE WEASLE DONT SAY IT LIKE THAT! TAKE IT BACK!"

"Don't worry. I'll be nice. I pride myself on impeccable customer service!" Spamton smiled. He spidered his fingers gently down to the heel, massaging his fingertips into the soft spot.

Tenna squealed as the fingers decended, covering his mouth with a clenched fist as the massage went back to a more relaxing sensation. Spamton leaned forward a bit, planting a palm on each heel, fingers curving around the bottom the rounded shape before digging his palms in circular motions. Tenna relaxed again. What a roller coaster.

"Okay okay... Phew..... Just do that... That's nihice."

"You'll owe me one of these in the future," Spamton muttered under his breath.

"I heard thahat."

"Heard what? I didn't say anything. Must be a stray signal."

"Yohohou can't gaslight me."

"Gaslight? I don't know what you're talking about," he smirked, digging in a bit more.

"Ooooooo... Phew... Remind me to.... Show you that one later... Classic."

"Is that an order?"

"Absolutely... You'll be cultured... Slowly but surely-Ooooo right there right there that's nice," Tenna sunk into his chair as Spamton rubbed his thumbs against his inner heels.

"Right here?" Spamton asked, wiggling his thumbs.

"AAAH! HAHA-NO-I MEAN-YES!" he slapped the desk loudly.

"No AND yes? Mixed signals," he smirked. He shifted his technique, rolling his knuckles up Tenna's soles. That was certainly a mix of signals. Tenna gasped, clamping him mouth shut as he gripped the edge of his desk, trying to focus on breathing through his nose. His tension released again when the little hands planted their palms on the pads of his feet below his toes, massaging gently. That felt pretty nice... But those little fingers rested against his upper soles, shifting with every press. The ghostly touch made Tenna squirm on instinct.

"I'm doin' great, right?" Spamton smiled brightly, looking back at Tenna and batting his eyelashes.

"YEAH... Right.... Khkhk it's... GREAT!" he struggled out.

"Gooooooooood," he grinned. He played nice, massaging for another thirty seconds before drifting his hands upwards. As his fingertips traced up against Tenna's toes, the TV seized up, screeching.

"EEEEEEK! WAIT WAHAHAHAIT WAAAAHAHAHAHAIT!" his hands started clawing in the top on the desk. "THOSE ARE OFF LIMITS!"

"What!? Are you insane? There's no way I could possibly give you the gracious service of a massage after a whole, unappreciated dance number without making sure every inch of your poor 'barking doggies' get the attention they need and deserve, twinkle toes~"

"SPAMTON I TOLD YOU NOT TO AHAHAHAHAHAAAA!" Tenna arched in his chair, fist slamming on the desk while his other hand grabbed his chair, looking for any relief as Spamton massaged his toes. Spamton wasn't even tickling on purpose and Tenna was in stitches. "NOHO-NONONO NOT THE TOHOHOES! SOMEWHERE EHEHELSE- ANYWHERE ELSE!" he begged, gripping the sides of his head. Spamton ignored him, worming his little fingers under the clenching digits.

"Relaaaaaax, Tenna. It's a massaaaaaaage~"

"I CAN'T I CAHAHAN'T OHOHOOHOO NONO I CAHAHAN'T IT TICKLES! AHAHA! OHOHO ANGEL- IT TIHIHICKLES SO BAD!" Tenna was tossing his head, antenna bouncing as he cackled. His feet wiggled and swayed, toes attempting to block the unstoppable force that was Spamton's fingers.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. It can't be that bad~" Spamton said, tracing the pads of Tenna's toes with his blunt nails. Tenna released a sharp yelp of surprise, jerking back so hard his chair tilted enough to make him panic, arms flailing until the chair landed again. His legs lifted with the motion, bumping Spamton upwards with them. "Whoa, there! Easy!" he laughed, talking like a cowboy to a bucking bronco. He quickly resumed 'massaging' Tenna's toes.

"NYAHAO! YOU'RE DOHOHOHOING THIHIHIS ON PURPOHOHOHSE!" Tenna tried to growl out, legs jumping and squirming on reflex. Spamton was laughing now, struggling to stay sitting up, which only made him grip between Tenna's toes for stability. That only made it worse.

"So loud, Hahaha! You're supposed to be relaxing, Tens!" he called back.

"IHIHI CAHAHAN'T, SPAMTOHOHON! I'M DYHYHYHYING!"

"Leave it you you to-OOP!" he caught himself as Tenna's legs bucked again. "-be dramatic!" he chuckled.

As they were laughing, Spamton curling his fingers between Tenna's toes and Tenna booming with high pitched laughter, there was an unheard knock and the door opened slightly.

"Boss, are you alri-" Ramb froze at the ridiculous sight. The salesman on the desk straddling Tenna's ankles and digging his fingers into the TV's toes, Tenna shoeless, laughing and banging his fist on the arm of his chair. Then they both froze. Well, this was awkward. All three were wide eyed in a standoff of who would dare to speak up first.

"Uh.... Hi.... Ramb," Spamton chanced to greet, waving "Just uh... Doing.... Business? "

The living power bar eyed them both, ".... Right-o... "

"Ramb! Uh.... I'm fine, I don't need anything I... Uh... I'll give you fifty points to pretend you didn't see anything." Tenna said between pants. Ramb's expression shifted to a mix of sly understanding

"See what exactly? There's nothing in here. In fact, I must be hearing things. I'll just go back to my station," he said with a smile, slowly shutting the door.

"PHEW... that was close..." Tenna slumped in his chair for the billionth time that night.

"You better pay him," Spamton said, not wanting Ramb to have an excuse to talk about what he 'didn't see'.

"I will," he assured too quickly, not wanting to chance a blackmail situation. As if Ramb even cared that much.

"... Where were we? Oh yeah!" Spamton didn't waste time and immediately started 'massaging' again, Tenna bursting with wild giggles and cackles and squeals.

"NAHAHAHAHOOOOHOHO! NAHAHAHOHOHOT AGAIN!"

"Well I'm not done yet! I'm not leaving you wanting. I'd never do that," he teased, not even pretending to massage anymore. His fingers were scritching under Tenna's toes, making the TV host thrash in his chair, holding his head as he flipped out, legs bouncing, feet waving in every direction they could.

"IHIHIHI'M GONNA EXPLOHOHOHODE! UNCLE! UHUHUHUNCLE!"

"Uncle? Pffft. That's a word for tapping out. You can't tap out of a massage! Buuuut I could end it early if you give me $20~"

"NOHOHOHO! NO DEEHEEHEEHEAL!"

"$10?"

"NOHOHO MONEY YOU AHAHAHAHA- STAHAHAHAP!"

"Okay okay, $5"

"NOHOHOHO! "

"FINE! The magic words are 'Spamton is the grooviest guy in TV World' ."

"NOHOHO WAIT NOHO THAT'S ME! IHIHIM NOT GONNA- OHOHOHO SHOOT!" Tenna was scrambling, past his limit the second Spamton scribbled his blunt nails up and down both soles. "YOHOHOU'RE THE GROOVIEST! HAHAHAHA IN TEEHEEHEEHEE-VEEHEEHEEHEE WOHOHOHOHORLD!"

"Awwww, Tenna, you're just saying that, " he teased, stopping and turning around. He crawled to Tenna's side on the desk, sitting on the edge properly.

"I... Hah... Ha.... Ha... Could have... Ha... Ha... Died!... Hah... Ha... " Tenna panted, curling his legs up to his chest protectively for a moment before planting his soles on the floor, rubbing them against the carpet to shoo the phantom tickles away.

"You'll live," Spamton waved him off.

"You... Are public enemy... Number one... For a WEEK... You behave... Ah.. Ha... Or I won't hesitate... Ha... Hah... " Tenna warned.

"Oh, come on, Tens. You came in here all bummed out, and now you're all smiles. You should thank me."

Tenna was about to bite back, but he let the words sink in. Spamton wasn't wrong. He felt like crap walking in his office. Now he felt... Happy? If not a little annoyed at Spamton's cocky attitude.

"Alright... Fine... Thanks... I guess," he turned his head. "... Thanks... " that one was more sincere.

"No problem, twinkle toes, " Spamton smirked, giving him a wink and finger guns. Tenna immediately sat up.

"You- I'LL SHOW YOU 'TWINKLE TOES'!" Tenna yelled our like a battle cry, snatching the little salesman off the desk. Spamton shrieked as he was caught up in the TV's fury.

The office was a cacophony of screeches and laughter again for awhile longer. The Darnkers nearby just continued wrapping up their work for the night... Best not to ask questions.

[butchribs]

'too ticklish for your own good' is such a funny turn of phrase. so ticklish it borders on a serious character flaw. so ticklish it's listed on my character sheet as granting me a -2 penalty to grapple checks. the author is going to use my dumb scratchable ribs as the catalyst for a major plot point in the second act

[nulldragonhere]

(Ler!Soul, Lee!Gaster) [Ticklefic] The soul wants Gaster to stop working so hard. By any means necessary.

(Author's note) I don't have an excuse for this one but like, you know how it is. Started this forever ago and picked back up. Could be reader insert if you squint? Soul is kind of eldritch and uses it/they. Touch starved Gaster. Literally just two eldritch creatures having fun I think.

------

In this empty void, darker than dark, only two sources of light existed.

The first, a wall of monitors, watching over the various timelines of his deltarune, observing every choice made and studying even the smallest differences.

The second, a vibrant red emitted by the soul.

The soul hovered behind him, several pairs of wings folded neatly as it watched him work. Tendril-like claws rested against the ground like an animal, supporting its size as it leaned in. Dark eyes squinted as they attempted to scan the far-too-small monitors from above. They let out a crackling sound of displeasure, long body finally raising back up to stretch.

"I DO APOLOGIZE, MY SOUL. I WARNED YOU, MY WORK IS NOT VERY EXCITING." The text appears over his head, he refused to look away from the timelines. "THE WORK OF A SCIENTIST RARELY IS."

The soul lets out another static-laden sound. To anyone else, this would have been far too loud and unintelligible. To him, though...

"IT IS FINE, MY SOUL. THIS WORK... IT IS MY LIFE, NOW. I AM PROUD OF IT. LOOK HOW THEY WORK AS ONE, TO SURPASS THE OBSTACLES IN THEIR WAY."

The soul leans closer, letting out something akin to a laugh, a short burst of static exiting.

"...IT DOES NOT LOOK LIKE THE BATTLE PASS. THIS IS NOT FORTNITE, MY SOUL." He lets out a quiet sigh. Were they bored already...? "LOOK AT THIS MONITOR. SUSIE IS PRESENT. YOU ENJOY SUSIE, YES?"

It lets out a higher-pitched noise. They do, indeed, enjoy Susie. It keeps them distracted for a time to watch her attempt a battle against the hammer of justice.

Gaster has regained a peaceful workplace, soul distracted. It was almost hilarious how a creature that existed far above him could be enraptured by something so... simple. He turns his attention to a different monitor, watching a battle against a titan unfold.

He lets out an almost silent yawn, hands reaching behind him to rest upon his back as he stretches, letting out a few loud pops. He groans.

A quieter static rumble gets his attention.

The soul's eyes were focused on him, an unreadable expression in them. They sounded... concerned?

"...AH. PLEASE DO NOT WORRY ABOUT ME. I CANNOT EXPERIENCE TRUE EXHAUSION. NOT ANYMORE. MY JOINTS APPEAR TO HAVE SIMPLY NEEDED ADJUSTMENT, MY SOUL."

It lets out another low rumble, sounding irritated.

"I MUST REITERATE... I DO NOT NEED BREAKS. I DO NOT EAT AS WELL. MY PHYSIOLOGY IS NOT MORTAL ANY LONGER. PLEASE, DO NOT FRET FOR ME."

It lets out a very short, quiet cluster of static, picking itself back up to full height. He watches them rise to their full twenty-foot height, giving him a look of sharp disapproval. He opts to turn back to his timelines.

He'd rather not be fooled into taking even a short break- if the soul had their way, they'd keep him hostage for a nap. There's too much to do, so much to-

He lets out a yelp of surprise as something red curls around his midsection and yoinks him right out of his chair.

The soul had, often, initiated physical contact in small ways; patting his head, bumping their head against him, even wrapping a tendril around his arm- but it had never chosen to pick him up.

Yet, here he was; gripped within a set of claws, gently held concerningly high above the ground, looking face-to-face with the soul... who seems irritated at him. It lets out a short burst of static at him.

"MY SOUL, YOU DO NOT NEED TO WORRY FOR MY HEALTH. I HAVE ALREADY DIED MANY TIMES OVER. I CANNOT BE LOST AGAIN."

It lets out a growl, the sound rumbling through the thin air of the void as it brought him closer to its face. He could see something similar to fangs within a hidden mouth. Fascinating.

He simply reaches one hand out to touch the spot between their eyes, the growl softening and vanishing. "I APOLOGIZE FOR CAUSING YOU CONCERN. I REASSURE YOU... I HAVE NOT LIED. MANY OF THE THINGS THAT MADE ME MORTAL ARE GONE. DO NOT WORRY FOR ME."

The soul lets out something akin to a sigh. Maybe it realized it wasn't going to win this particular fight. Gaster pats their head, feeling them lean into the touch. A small trill rings through the static, almost like a purr as their eyes close.

It is a purr, he notes as a buzzing sensation builds under his hand. Very fascinating, indeed. The buzzing appears to spread through the soul's entire form, even dully building up within the tendril wrapped around his middle.

Gaster falters, his outstretched arm twitching as the buzzing intensifies around his midsection, a wobbly smile forcing its way onto his face.

...This was familiar. Terribly familiar. Something of a memory is on the very edge of his mind, just out of reach. His first hypothesis was that the soul was simply infecting him with its own happiness; but they seemed much calmer, more content, whereas he almost felt a laugh trying to build in his chest. He squirmed quietly, hand gripping the soul's furlike surface, something of a quiet snicker forcing its way up.

He feels himself trying to curl up. This doesn't make sense. He covers his mouth with his other hand, desperately fighting off... whatever was happening. The soul would eventually decide to put him back down, it would eventually wander off.

Not yet, it seems. The soul seems to grip him slightly tighter for a moment as it nuzzles its head against him. It's the buzzing getting stronger and closer against his ribs that finally does him in, throwing his head back with a loud, surprised yelp and wheeze.

The purring stopped immediately as the soul jumped back, grip changing to allow him to lay across their palm instead. He watched their eyes bounce around, checking him over rapidly. It sounded confused when he appeared unharmed.

Gaster allowed himself a few small chuckles as this happened. It was hardly like him to come undone like this... that wobbly smile took its time falling from his face. The soul's eyes had an odd intensity to them.

"...AH. PARDON ME, MY SOUL. IT APPEARS AS THOUGH AN UNUSUAL EVENT HAS OCCURRED. HOW PECULIAR."

The soul did not move. They seemed oddly... focused? He clears his throat. "YOU HAVE NOT HARMED ME, REST ASSURED. I... AM UNSURE WHAT HAS OCCURRED. YOU HAVE NOT HARMED ME, HOWEVER. MAY YOU RETURN ME TO THE GROUND, MY SOUL?"

The soul cocks their head to the side with a small, mischeivous laugh. Gaster was unsure if he liked the sound of that right now. Surely the soul wasn't about to drop him, right?

A strange fluttering anxiety fills his stomach as the soul raises its other tendril, forming into claws as it makes a high-pitched singsong-ing trill. He balks at what it says.

"EXCUSE ME? I BELIEVE YOU ARE MISTAKEN, MY SOUL. I DO NOT BELIEVE I AM-"

He's cut off as those claws descend, scratching against his sides. The sensation that it results in is almost exactly the same as before, causing another wheeze that dissolves into a frantic cackling as he grabbed at the red claws and tried to curl up, much to the soul's amusement.

Ah. The soul was correct, to his chagrin. He remembers now- scooping his two young sons up to tickle them silly, and them eventually teaming up against him as they got bigger. They got their sensitivity from him, and they knew it.

Gaster's sharply snapped out of his recollection with a wheezy shriek as those claws moved to explore around his ribs, prodding at the spaces between and scratching at the bones. He's kicking his legs and shaking his head side-to-side, he forgot just how sensitive he was before.

He forgot that he kind of missed this closeness and contact, despite the fact that his nerves thought he was actively dying. "M-MY S-SOU-OUL-!"

His text was glitching from a lack of focus, the letters falling away as soon as they appeared. The soul only gave off a happy trill as it moved a claw up to wiggle under the collar of his turtleneck, earning a softer chuckle and slower squirming.

Despite the sheer silliness of it all, he... almost didn't mind it. The soul was warm, comfortable, and giving him the attention he'd missed from his family. It retracted the claw from his neck, almost seeming as if it was choosing where to target next.

Did they miss their family? Did they miss this kind of contact, too?

Upon not receiving any protests, the soul wiggled two claws, one under each of his arms. Gaster gave off another yelp of surprise, dissolving into laughter once again, his shoulders scrunching up. This wasn't as bad as his ribs, thankfully, but not nearly as... relaxing(?) as his neck. He was oddly fine with just... existing and laughing himself silly at present.

The claws retracted, and he's surprised by the soul's face leaning in next. It opens a hidden mouth, fangs becoming visible-

What could only be described as alphabet soup suddenly materializes, letters spawning and vanishing at a rapid pace as the soul's fangs gently chomp down on Gaster's stomach area, his void-given body offering him a new spot to be sensitive in.

being a skeleton, he didn't HAVE a stomach before. But he does now, which was probably why he couldn't handle this spot. Both of his hands are pushing the soul's face, legs trying to protect himself from the silly assault as he lets out a shriek.

Several letters were desperately trying to form something coherent. "S-S-5-SOU-UL-! MER-CY PL-L-EAAAASSE-!"

The soul retracted, watching him gradually calm down, panting from the previous assault. It lets out a mischievous giggle again, wings fluttering in excitement.

"...YOU ARE. VERY NAUGHTY. UP TO NO GOOD." He eventually collected himself, giving a half-hearted scolding. "IT IS HARDLY A FAIR FIGHT IF I CANNOT ENACT REVENGE." Yes, he had been thinking of revenge. Not that it seemed possible.

The soul gives him a grin and a short burst of static.

"OH? IS THAT A CHALLENGE, MY SOUL? YOU SHOULD KNOW NOT TO CHALLENGE ME... I HAPPEN TO BE VERY GOOD AT READING THE FUTURE AND THE PAST... AND OTHER TIMELINES. THIS MAY NOT BE A CHALLENGE YOU WIN."

The soul only giggles at him again. He sputters at what it says. "N-NO. YOU ARE MISTAKEN, I AM AFRAID. YOU WERE THE ONLY ONE HAVING FUN WITH THIS PARTICULAR GAME." He turns away, slightly flushed. He had to maintain some kind of dignity here, right-?

The soul lets out a snort, shaking its head as it lowers itself down, tucking him under one of its wings. Gaster attempts to slide down and go back to work, but a warning growl and a sidelong glance make him have second thoughts.

...Fine. All he has to do is wait out the soul. They'll fall asleep soon enough. He shifts around to make himself more comfortable, leaning against the inner wing.

A slight jolt catches his attention. Hmm. Perhaps revenge isn't as far-fetched as initially thought...

[coy-lee-q]

Void

[tomurah]

Sometimes the support of the team is necessary. Even if it's a little forced..

[creepychippy]

Totally-obvious-Hints which definitely did not went over the Addisons' Heads, no siree

[Note: This is a DeltaRune Tickling Fanfic. Amount of Words: Almost 6k. Summary: This entire Week has been rather going terribly for Spamton, thus understandably putting his Mood down in the Dumps. ... Though, that isn't the only Mood he is experiencing. And he may have an Idea on how to handle it and achieve a certain Goal of his. Surely, his fellow Addison Friends would pick up on the Hints he drops in front of them, right?]

---------

Another Day in Cyber City, another Opportunity to make great Deals!... Well, to every Addison but the short, white one.

Like Routine, he hasn't managed to seclude a single Deal with even just one measly Customer this entire Week, no matter what of his usual Tactics he deployed to do so, whether that be flashing a way-too-over-the-top Smile at them, putting too much Enthusiasm into his Words and Gestures or even begging and pleading for that unfortunate Passerby to stop and listen to his desperate Salespitch.

Of course, the many Fumbles and Failures were obviously starting to weigh heavily on Spamton G. Spamton's Mood and sour it like expired Milk, his Need for Attention once again being left unfulfilled.

... But that isn't the only Mood the little Salesman is experiencing today out of all Days, oh no. Like a little, insistent Voice in the back of his Head that gradually grew more louder and louder as the Minutes ticked by, it whispered to him the perfect Solution on how to receive the Attention he oh-so-desperately desired and yearned for and in the process also act as a good Distraction to all his previous Frustrations from the Week on top of that. A wholesome Solution which, however, somewhat embarrassed the Personification of Spam E-Mail considering the rather childish and playful Nature of it, his Cheeks already dusted in a light pinkish Hue at the mere Thought of it.

A flustered Groan sounded from him as he hid his Face in the Palms of his Hands, him sitting hunched over on an empty Sidewalk. Spamton G. Spamton... seriously was considering letting himself getting tickled into silly, little Pieces and laugh his Soul out to his Heart's Content, wasn't he?...

Despite that, a Plan slowly formulated itself inside his Brain. With the Amount of free Time he carried on his Hands due to his Lack of Sales, it wasn't uncommon for Spamton to help out the other Addisons with their own Products and test out their Wares for them. Something in which Spamton saw a golden Opportunity within.

---------

"Thanks for assisting me with this today, Spams! Can't thank you enough for it, really!", the orange Addison beamed with a bright Expression as he kneeled on one Knee, his Hands gingerly holding a long Measuring Tape and unrolling it.

"Ah, you know me! Can't be the best if I don't learn from the best.", Spamton, in turn, attempted to show an innocent Expression on his Face by flashing a wide Smile back, both Arms outstretched to his Sides in a T-Pose. Instead of his casual black V-Neck Shirt and green Pants, his Attire was replaced by a flowy, sparkly, light-blue Dress with a cute blue Bow attached to the front. Admittedly, he quite liked the Design of the Dress, however his Mind was too preoccupied by other, more important Matters to really focus on the Details of the Clothing Item this Time.

He had a Plan to carry out, after all.

"Pfft, you and your Flattery! If you lay it on more thickly in front of your potential Customers, maybe you will finally get a Sale in!", Orange shook his Head in Amusement before his Hands eventually finished unrolling the Piece of Measuring Tape which he then held against the smaller Addison's Torso.

Spamton visibly scoffed at the Comment, yet his Eyes didn't wander away from Orange's Hands and the Measuring Tape placed against the Area of his Abs, a giddy Shiver running through his Spine. "Don't remind me of my Situation! It's just a Streak of bad Luck is all! I'll become a Big Shot one Day, you'll see!"

With Roll of his Eyes, the orange Addison let out an amused Exhale of Air through his Nose and analyzed the Numbers on the Tape as he readjusted it and pressed against various Spots such as the Hips and Sides. "Yeah, yeah. By the way, how does the Fabric feel? Any Tightness around any Areas?"

Time to put his Plan into Motion.

"Eeh...", Spamton experimentally lifted his Arms up into the Air, holding them over his Head, "Maybe 'round the Armpits? Could ya check?" Surely, Orange couldn't resist messing with him if he dropped a Hint like that and put himself in such a vulnerable Position on purpose, right?

"Hmm, let's see..." Setting the Measuring Tape aside, the Addison's Hands delicately placed themselves beneath the Arms of the small Salesman, carefully examining the blue Fabric and feeling around for any Tightness.

The Touch was light... too light to actually tickle properly and instead feeling like his Skin was being weakly teased more than anything. Fingers just kept prodding around the Area of his Armpits, an Area which as a matter of Fact happened to be one of his more ticklish Spots, yet never really pressing down hard enough to even elicit a tiny giggle out of him. All it did was causing this flustering Mood of his to worsen in the process.

Spamton's Cheeks turned more pink and his Arms faintly twitched when one Thumb slowly traced over the blue Stitching where the short Sleeves met.

Leaning back on his Leg, a Sigh escaped the orange Addison as Eyes wandered back up towards the white Addison's Face. "Yeah, you're right. Must be awfully uncomfortable with the Stitching digging into your Arms given your Reaction."

Spamton wished it was something else digging into his Armpits, but he didn't dare to say that Part out loud, else he would risk the small Amount of Pride he had built up over the Years and display in front of others to the best of his Ability to crumble into tiny Pieces right then and there. "Yeeaah, the Stitching, that...", he attempted to mask the disappointed Tone in his Voice with a wobbly, nervous Smile while averting his Eyes by looking off to the left Side, his Arms lowering back down hesitantly.

"Aww, don't worry, Spams. Even if some of the Measurements are off, I think the Dress still looks great on you!" Apparently, Orange mistook the Blush which he noticed on Spamton's Cheeks for a bashful one, being none the wiser as to why it actually appeared. He eventually stood back up, the Hand which he placed onto the Salesman's Head to support himself with afterwards ruffling through the white Hair in a playful manner. "Once we get the Sleeves adjusted, it'll look even better! I bet my entire Earnings on that!"

With that, the taller Addison headed back into the Shop to retrieve some Items and Tools from inside.

... Surely, Orange couldn't resist messing with him if he wasn't so dense and so entirely focused on his Job in the first Place.

---------

Plan A might have failed Spamton, but Plan B will surely work out this Time!

Next in Line to help was Yellow, who worked on creating and selling Jewerly at his Shop. Currently, the smaller, white Addison sat seated next to him, requiring a taller Chair to comfortably rest his Forearms on the Counter.

"Good Thing that you can test out some of my Jewerly again! Lately, I have been indecisive when it comes to a few Designs, so I appreciate your Help and Opinions.", Yellow's Tone carried Happiness and Relief in it, his Expression a cheerful one while he rummaged through a few nearby Drawers. Unbeknownst to him, today the Spam E-Mail offered his Help due to a much different Reason, an ulterior Motive hidden in Mind.

"Well, 'course my Opinion 's the best. Jewerly suits me the most, after all.", the arrogant Addison boasted with a wide Grin, holding his Fingers out when the taller Addison got seated next to him and set the Items down onto the flat Surface of the Counter.

"Charming today, aren't we? That's the right Attitude, though. The flashier your Attitude, the flashier the Jewerly will be on you.", Yellow chuckled with an amused Smile and gently placed his Fingers underneath Spamton's Palm to guide it up. Picking up a golden Ring with intricate Design and a red Gemstone, he carefully slipped it onto the latter's Thumb.

Spamton's Eyes observed the Ring, pretending to be interested by even slightly tilting his Hand around a bit, though his Thoughts were halfly in a different Place to really take in the Design of the Jewerly in Question.

"There! One of my latest Ideas which I'm quite proud of! Let's see how it compares to the other one." With an unhurried Motion, the yellow Addison slipped a silver Ring with a swirly Pattern and blue Gemstone onto the white Addison's middle Finger, afterwards holding his Hand up a bit higher to have a Look for himself. "Oh, that reminds me! I forgot if I ever told you this, but did you know that the depending on the Placement of a Ring on your Finger, it can symbolize different Meanings? For Example, a Ring on your Thumb could mean..."

While Yellow began to enthusiastically ramble about different Symbolisms of Fingers and Rings, Spamton's Mind wandered off as his Attention was not on the Jewerly itself anymore but rather on the Placement of the Addison's Fingers underneath his Palm. He hoped that at this point, the Fingertips of the taller Addison would somehow be tracing against the ticklish Skin there, whether it be on Accident or not, but that was not what was currently happening. Instead, they stayed unmoving and still like a Statue, as if Spamton's Hand was a Piece of fragile Porcelain that could shatter at any Moment.

... To be fair, he was wearing finely-crafted Jewerly on it right now, so perhaps that was the Reason the other handled his Limb around so delicately. Something the white Addison didn't Account for in his Plan. Despite that, it certainly didn't make the Butterflies growing in his Stomach from Anticipation with each passing Second any better nor the flustering Thoughts swirling in his Head.

"... Spamton, you there?", a yellow Hand waved in front of his Face, snapping him out of his Daydream, "You kinda zoned out there for a Moment."

The white Addison blinked for a few Times until the Confusion lifted, followed by a nervous Grin adorning his Face as he slightly adjusted himself in his Seat. "Y-yeah! Just been admiring these Beauties is all.", playing off this awkward Situation, he deliberately pressed his Palm against the Addison's Fingertips in a last Ditch Effort to drop a Hint and get him to react in some way or another.

Yet, that Attempt fell flat on its Face as Yellow instead removed his Hand to clasp both of them together in front of him in Delight, Spamton's wobbly Grin faltering a bit.

For a Moment, he contemplated outright telling the other Addison what he actually wanted him to do... but his Pride had other Ideas, apparently.

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that you like them! Say, which one do you think I should sell for more Money? The golden one or the silver one?"

"Uuh... the silver one, I guess."

Yellow noticed the slight Drop in the Tone of the shorter Addison, but he chose not to comment on it, chalking it up to the latter having one of his moody Days again due to his nonexistent Sales.

If only Yellow knew that that was only one Part of the Reason.

---------

Okay, Plan B didn't work out, but surely Plan C will not blow up in his Face this Time!

Spamton only needs to be a bit more obvious with the Hints he is dropping, that's all!

And what better Candidate to pick up on those very Hints than Pink himself? The pink Addison happened to be more of the ambitious and bold ones out of the Bunch of Salesmen, so definitely nothing could go wrong in this Attempt!

"So, lil' Guy, ready to test out my newest Products?", the high Spirits in Pink's Voice could not be overheard, nor could one overlook the energetic Gestures of his Arms, proving that he would be the best Person for this Plan. Though, the short Mailman definitely took Offense at that little Jab of a Comment the other included, his Cheeks slightly puffing up in Irritation.

"Hey! Was the Comment about my Height necessary?!"

An entertained Snort slipped passed the taller Addison with the Corner of his Eyes crinkling in Mirth as he set down some Plastic Cups on the flat Surface of the Table. "Not really, but your Reactions are always a real Hoot, you know~? You sometimes make it really hard on us not to pull your short Leg from Time to Time."

That earned a weak Punch on Pink's Arm from the annoyed Addison to which the former chuckled.

"Ohokay! Okay! I'll stop with the Jokes! But only if you rate the new Tea Flavours I came up with."

One Hand gently pushed one of the Cups towards Spamton, a reddish-pink-coloured Liquid visible inside of it which exuded a pleasant Fruit-like Aroma. In a cautious manner as to not accidentally spill the Drink, he took the Cup and calmly raised it up to his Lips, taking a Sip of the warm Beverage. An enjoyable Flavour spread inside his Mouth, definitely Raspberry-flavoured, though he didn't dwell on it for too long due to a certain Reason.

"And, what do you think?"

The Reason? Like a Lightbulb over his Head, Spamton finally saw the perfect Opportunity to drop a rather bold Hint in this Conversation.

"Tastes great! In fact, I feel rather tickled pink with how good it tastes! Really knocked it outta the Park with this one!"

There, that should do it! With a triumphant Smirk, Spamton set the Cup back down and waited for the inevitable to follow. Meanwhile, Pink peacefully leaned his Chin on the back of his Hands, Elbows propped up against the Table.

"Is that so? Glad to hear that! I really wanted to incorporate more Fruit Flavours for this Year, and I contemplated what exact Fruits to use, so I'm happy to see that it's already a Hit with you!"

... Huh?

"In fact, before I tell, why don't you try to guess what Flavour the one is you just had? As a tiny Challenge!", cheerfully, Pink tilted his Head slightly to the Side as he observed the small Addison beside him.

That... didn't go exactly as planned, but maybe Spamton could somehow salvage this Situation with another Hint. Perhaps with a Slogan. If he just...

"O-oh, uhh, Raspberry Flavour, correct?", stumbling over his Words, his Confidence dwindled a bit, though he tried to not let that get to him, "Life is berry sweet! Too sweet to blow a Raspberry about it!".

"Hah, correct!" A friendly Pat was administered onto his Back by the pink Addison, to which the former jolted in Surprise. "You might not have gotten any Deals yet, but you sure make a great Participant for these Types of Tests! Hey, maybe we could employ you as our personal little Guinea Pig if your Job doesn't work out-"

"Pink!"

"Hehe, sohorry! Sorry! I'm just jesting!"

Spamton's rosy Blush on his Cheeks deepened, both because of the Remarks about his Height again but also because of the flustering Mood of his worsening due to the Palm lingering on his upper Back.

Eventually, the Expression of the taller Addison returned to a much softer one. "Nah, but I really mean it. You do help us out a lot as of lately. Can't appreciate that enough." Removing his Hand, he gingerly pushed another Cup towards Spamton. "Speaking of, you need to try out this Tea! Really brainstormed for this one!"

The heartfelt Compliment was appreciated, however not the now missing physical Sensation from his Back. To quickly distract himself and replace it with a different Stimulus, the small Addison took a huge Gulp from the Beverage in front of him, a unique Flavour spreading in his Mouth.

"Aaand? Which Flavour is this one?"

"Uuh... Apple-Grape-Flavour, I think. Tastes good..."

"... Hey. If you don't actually like the Flavour, you can just be honest and say so, Pipsqueak!"

Spamton shook his Head, his Brain not having processed the sly Nickname yet. "It's not that, it's just- Pink!"

"Hehe!"

---------

Plan D. Plan D has to work out this Time or else the Personification of Spam E-Mail is going to lose it! This Mood he has been experiencing for the past few Hours now surely made it feel like it.

However, his Confidence was not lost yet, especially with what kind of Help he offered the next Addison in Line.

"You're a real Life Saver, Spamton! Having a Reference on how those Shoes look like on an actual Person instead of just a Mannequin will be so helpful for me!"

Bingo.

"Good Thing I'm the one modeling, then. After all, if it's one Person who can really capture the Flair of your Product, it should be me~.", Spamton boasted with an arrogant Grin, his Eyes trailing after the blue Addison who searched through a few Boxes. Currently, he was seated on a Bench with his Arms casually resting over the Backrest, his own green Shoes neatly placed aside on the Ground. His nonchalant outer Appearance ironically enough was a stark Contrast to the chaotic Swirls of playful Thoughts and Daydreams plaguing the inside of his Mind, his Heart beating a Mile a Minute because he now banked on his entire Plan working with this Idea.

Fourth Time's the Charm, he supposed.

"Haha! I guess so!", with a Shoebox in Hand, Blue walked over to the smaller Addison and kneeled down in front of him. Opening the Lid of the Box, he retrieved a Pair of black Loafers out of it, afterwards delicately placing his Fingertips underneath the latter's Ankle to guide his socked Foot up a bit. "Let's see... Those should be the right Size, yep."

In the meantime, Spamton's Fingers nervously drummed against the smooth Surface of the Bench, Anticipation building up once more as he averted his Gaze. The Moment he has been waiting for for the entire Day would certainly happen at any Second now, right-

"There! Now, please walk around and tell me if there is any Discomfort, okay?"

Oh. The white Addison has once more been so lost in his own Thoughts, he didn't notice how efficiently the blue Addison slipped the Shoes onto his Feet. Darn it, he should have dropped a more obvious Hint.

"Uh, ehh- s-sure!", Spamton forced an energetic Expression onto his Face, though given the suspicious Raise of Blue's Eyebrow, his Smile must have appeared rather tense. Hopping down from the Bench, he strode across the Floor with a few Steps, even doing a lighthearted Twirl at the End to show off like if he indeed was a Model. "Well, well, well! I feel like I could take on the World with this new Fit! Even take a Mile-long Hike around Town with these bad Boys!... Although..."

Damage Control. The next Part he says would mostly be a Lie.

"There seems to be a bit of Discomfort. 10% additional Size.", shrugging his Shoulders, the short Salesman sauntered back over to the still kneeling Addison, stopping right in front of him, "Maybe best to check for yourself, just in case. To guarantee Customer Satisfaction once this Product gets released."

"Right! Thank you for telling me!" Blue carefully pressed his Thumb against the front of the black Shoe, around the Area where the white Addison's Toes were located, to which he felt a small Jolt. "Hmm, indeed, they may be a bit too big for you. Hold on, I know how to maybe fix this."

Disappearing into his Shop for a Moment, the taller Addison soon returned with a Pair of Insoles which he then handed to the other Addison. "Here, those should help with making the inner Soles more comfortable!"

Quietly, Spamton stared at the Insoles he was holding in his Hands.

"... Is something the matter, Spamton?"

"Oh! Uh, no! Everything's peachy!", scrambling back onto the Bench, he readjusted the Footwear by taking it off, slipping the Insoles into them and putting them back on as if nothing was wrong. "See?"

"You sure you're alright? You seem a bit flushed. You're not catching a Virus, are you?", slight Concern formed on Blue's Face, his Eyes not leaving Spamton, "We can take you to an Ambyu-Lance if you are not feeling well-"

"It's not that, really!", now, the Spam E-Mail's Smile faltered, his Eyes narrowing with Annoyance, "It's just... I want you to... ugh, nevermind! Let's just get back to trying on Shoes, alright?"

"Are you sure-"

"Yep! Totally! Abso-100%-lutely!", Spamton forced his Lips into a way-too-tense Smile while his Shoulder sadly drooped down, something that the blue Addison definitely took Note off of seeing the surprised Expression he gave in return.

"... If you say so."

---------

Evening Hours arrived within Cyber City, Hours during which a daily Ritual would take place, that being a Group of 5 Addisons meeting up inside the same usual Cyber Grill to exchange casual Conversations, share Information on how recent Business went and have a few Drinks on top of that.

"Really? They actually said that?"

"Yeah! At first, I thought someone turned the Volume down on my hearing, but once they repeated themself again, I tried my hardest to not burst out laughing! Professionalism first, after all!"

"Oh man, if I was you, my Facade would have broken right then and there! Getting tangled up in Spaghetti Code together with Tasques and dragged around sounds way too hilarious!"

Three of those Addisons, that being Yellow, Pink and Orange, were wrapped up in a carefree Chat with each other, adding onto the lively Atmosphere of the Grill - one of them who didn't join in, Blue, silently stared at the white Addison across of him instead, his Fingers intertwined in front of his Mouth while he pondered.

Usually by this point, Spamton would shoot his Mouth about making it big with his Deals one Day with that boastful Nature of his, but strangely enough, he kept rather quiet today as he rested his Head into his Arms on the Table and gazed off into Space, Eyebrows knitted together in what could be described as Defeat.

That's not normal.

"Spamton, what's wrong?", the blue Addison questioned with a concerned Tone which grabbed the Attention of the other Salesmen, "Did something happen today? You don't usually act like this."

Hearing his Name, the short Spam E-Mail hastily propped himself up with his Forearms out of Surprise, the Focus of the Group now entirely on him.

"Yeah, now that you mention it, he wasn't entirely there today.", Yellow threw into the Round before Spamton could respond with his Reply.

"Oh, don't worry! Everything's juuust peachy! Nothin' to see here!" The white Addison put on his best Salesman Tone, the Corner of his Mouth lightly twitching.

None of the Addisons bought that Response, not metaphorically nor literally.

"Spams, that's clearly a Lie and we know it.", Orange raised his Eyebrow in Sympathy, "Is it 'cause of your Deals again?-"

"No! That's not the Reason! I mean, I guess it partly is, but- ugh, whatever!" With a dull Thud, Spamton rested his Face against the Table, a defeated Groan leaving his Vocal Cords.

Well, that certainly was one Step closer to figuring out what was going on.

As he pondered further about the Situation, there was a peculiar Detail the blue Addison recalled from earlier this Day. "Spamton, when you helped me out with my Shop, you told me there was something you wanted me to do, but you didn't tell me what it was. What exactly is it that you wanted me to do?"

All the Eyes of the Addisons were on the small Spam E-Mail now. Heavens, did he really have to spell it out for them? His Subtlety certainly didn't work, but was asking outright really an Option? There's no way his fellow Salesmen would let him live down this Moment once he threw his rather childish and playful Request into the Room, let alone his Pride would suffer in the process too. ... Pride be damned, he couldn't take this giddy Butterfly-inducing Mood of his anymore!

"Fine! You want to know so badly?! If any of you just gotten my Hints in the first place, this would've been so much easier!", a visible Pout stretched across his facial Features as he leaned forward on his Arms, Eyes narrowed in Frustration, "I want you to... I want you... uuh..."

Okay, maybe saying it out loud was harder than he imagined it would be, especially with all those curious Eyes on him. Another Groan sounded from him while he leaned back in his Seat, Head lowered downwards as he placed a Palm onto it to hide his Face. Think, Spamton G. Spamton, think! This is not the Time to back out now! Wait, perhaps he could...

Slightly raising his left Hand, a glowing Ad Banner suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Quality Feather Boas for $12,95?", Pink read the Ad Banner aloud and tilted his Head, Confusion afterwards evident on his Face.

"Ooh, a Game of Charades! Let me try!", Orange enthusiastically chimed in while waving his Hand, his Eyes sparkling, "A Feather Boa, hmm? Did you want to wear one with the Dress you tried on today?"

Spamton shook his Head and a second Ad Banner popped up, his Beet-red facial Features still hidden behind his Hand.

"Top 10 funniest Jokes?", now it was Blue's Turn to read the glowing Ad.

"You wanted to hear some Jokes about Feather Boas? Is that it?", Yellow threw that Suggestion into the Group Discussion but earned an unimpressed Eyeroll from Pink.

"Seriously, Dude? Feather Boa Puns? I don't think our lil' Buddy here got all bent out of Shape just 'cause he wanted to hear some Feather Boa Puns from us."

"Hey, what else could he mean with those two Adds?! You try making a better Guess-"

"Guys.", Blue intervened between Yellow's and Pink's childish bickering, "Let's just hear Spamton out further, okay?"

"Alright."

Once they settled down again and turned their Focus back on him did Spamton think about his next Move. Then, a third and final Ad Banner manifested itself in the Air. One that had an Arrow pointing directly towards him.

"Tickle-me-puppet?"

Silence enveloped the Table, Seconds quietly ticking by before finally, a collective Array of Lightbulbs appeared over the Heads of the four Addisons, Realization dawning on them.

"You... want us to tickle you?"

A slow Nod of his Head was all that was needed to confirm that Suspicion. Before anyone could process Things further however, Spamton yelped loudly all of the sudden as a Pair of Arms beside him wrapped around his Torso and swiftly pulled him onto the Lap of the pink Addison, Fingers hastily digging into his Sides to which a surprised Bark of Laughter shot out of his Mouth.

"EEAHAhahahehahaheaha!!"

"Pink! We're still at the Cyber Grill!", Blue stood up from his Seat as he watched the Chaos unfold. That little Detail didn't seem to deter the pink Salesman in the slightest, a wide and mischievous Grin stretched across his Face while he continued to dance his Fingertips across the Spam E-Mail's Ribs.

"Dude! No way I'm gonna wait now!" He then refocused his Words onto the cackling and squirming Salesman, jokingly taking on an agitated Tone in his Voice. "You're telling me my stupid Ass overlooked all these Hints you dropped right in front of me just earlier? Look at what you're making me do, Pipsqueak! You could've just said it straight to my Face, but nooo! Now I've gotta catch up on all that lost Time 'cause of you!"

"P-Pihihi- AHAHEheheaha- Pihihihihink!!"

"Yeees~? That's my Name!", he taunted the small Mailman by stretching out his Response, "No worries, I'm already tickling you if that was your Concern!"

"Oh, I want a Turn!", with a happy Smile, Orange readjusted his Seat to sit closer to the giggling Addison, his Fingers promptly digging into ticklish Hips and earning a goofy Squeal through it.

"WAAHAhahaha!! W-wahahait! I-it ti-ehehehe-ticklehehehes!!"

"Well, duh! I sure hope it does!"

"EhehEHEAHAhahaHAhaha!!"

Orange Fingertips playfully spidered across his Sides and pink Fingers began to count the Amount of Ribs on each Side in a steady, methodical manner, causing Spamton's unrestrained Laughter to gain a slightly higher Pitch through it. His Hands didn't know what to do, first frantically flailing around, then feebly grabbing onto Pink's Arms before finally deciding on using them to cover his giddy, blushy Face with. That however... turned out to be a Mistake as suddenly, Yellow took the Chance to dig his Fingers into the now exposed Armpits, making the cackling Addison slam his Arms down with a loud Shriek and thus reveal his bright red Cheeks.

"AAIIEHEHA- ehEHEhe- HAHAHA!! H-HOHOHOL' ON! Nahahat fahaiHIHIhir!!"

"Hey, I don't wanna be left out!", Yellow mock-complained with a cheery Smile and wasted no Time scritching his Fingertips against the Hollows underneath the Addison's Arms, something which sent even more ticklish Energy through the Nerves in that Spot.

As the three mischievous Addisons kept ganging up on the smallest one, Blue took a Glance behind him to notice some intrigued Patrons of the Grill have started to stare at the Display of Silliness by their Table. Makes Sense, given that Spamton's Vocal Cords were not known to be the quietest ones. ... Well, he supposed that the Addisons would now be known for some additional Traits among other Things inside the City, apparently being ticklish being one of them.

Flashing back a sheepish Smile at the Patrons, the blue Addison turned back to address the Situation playing out in front of him. Guess he has a Decision to make. Act as the responsible one and relocate this Tickle Attack to a more secluded, private Space or join in on the funny Shenanigans right here and now? Act as the responsible one or join... responsible or join...

"WAAHAHAHA!! BLUEHEHE!! UnfaHAhair!!" Spamton threw his Head back against Pink's Chest and guffawed loudly upon feeling Fingertips squeeze into the Area beneath his Kneecaps, his Legs kicking wildly. Yep, that Decision is worth it.

"Unfair? I think it's much more unfair that you didn't tell us much earlier you wanted to get tickled by us."

"I-EHEHEAHAHA- I tried toHOho, okahaHAHAyhy?!"

"Through vague Hints, that is. Not very Customer-friendly, you know?" The blue Addison couldn't help but smile when Spamton started to kick his Legs again like a Dog as gentle Fingers traced against his Calves. Not only that, but a goofy Snort left him upon yellow Hands kneeding into his Armpits, hitting an especially ticklish Spot there. Spamton's Reactions were quite amusing to the four Addisons as they continuined to tickle him.

"Aww, look at him! Lil' Guy is loving it!", Pink teased the small Mailman by cooing at him and grinning widely. It proved to be quite effective, seeing how the latter let out an embarrassed Whine through his high-pitched Laughter and squeezed his Eyes shut.

"I doHO NAHAhaHAhat!! EhehehaHAHAhaHAha!!"

A Pair of orange Fingers swiftly spidered and tickled against his Neck as if attempting to disprove that Claim. "Liar! You're barely fighting back!"

True, but did Orange have to point that out? Spamton was too busy with chuckling like a Madman to truly think about it, especially once pink Hands clawed against the Area between his Armpits and Sides.

"You haven't told us yet to stop, either.", Blue carefully held one of Spamton's Legs with one Hand while tracing Circles around his Kneecap with his index Finger.

"AAHAhaehehhehihiHAHAha!! I-IhirrelevaHAHAHANT!!"

"No need to be shy, Spamton!", the yellow Addison merrily reassured the short Mailman, though in his Eyes glimmered a Sparkle of Mischief, "It's clear this is making you happy! So that must mean we're providing the perfect Product for you!"

Indeed, his many Frustrations and Memories of his Failures throughout this Week melted away in an instant as ticklish Attention was being poured onto him which in turn kept him busy with laughing his Soul out, though of course Spamton wouldn't admit it outright. And he still wasn't fighting back either, with pink Fingers scritching against his lower Ribs, blue Fingertips tracing Lines against his Legs, orange Hands squeezing into his Armpits and and yellow Fingers... wait, what was Yellow doin-

"EEE-AHAHIHIHIAHAHAEHEHE!!! ANYWHEHEREHE B-AHAHAHA-BUT THEHEREHEHAHA!!!"

Squeaky Laughter erupted from the hysterical Addison upon feeling Fingers playfully poke into his Belly and tickling him to absolute Pieces. It actually halted the other three Addisons with what they were doing once they heard his Belly-Laughter turn silent for one Moment.

"Jeez, Yellow, you're killing him!", Pink rested his Hands against Spamton's Ribs which in turn made him feel the Laughter resonate within his Ribcage.

"WAHAHAEHE-EHEHEHE-AHAHAHAHA!! AHAHAEHEHEHEAHAHAHA!!!"

Orange, too, showed Mercy by wriggling his Hands out of Spamton's Armpits, instead using them to cover his own Mouth with. "Pfft, Spams sounds like a $9.99 squeaky Toy!"

Meanwhile, Blue shook his Head and smiled lightly, Sympathy written on his facial Features as even more squeaky and carefree Belly-Laughter poured out of the little Salesman due to yellow Fingers poking and prodding his very ticklish Stomach like trying to click on an Advertisement Window. "Guys, it's not very profitable if we lose one of our Friends by tickling him to Death."

When Yellow pressed all of his Fingers into the soft Pudge with much more Pressure, Spamton absolutely lost it. "UHU-AHAHA-UHUHUNCLE!! UNCLEHEHE, PLEHEHEAHAHASEHEHE!!!"

"Whoops! Time to stop!" Everything came to a Halt once Spamton managed to get these Words past his hysterical Fit of Laughter, hiccupy giggling continuing to flow out of him while the yellow Addison even made sure to softly rub the Phantom Tickles away from his Belly.

"Heh, look at you, Spamton! I think your Face is an even deeper Shade of pink than mine!", chuckling, Pink rested his Chin on top of Spamton's Head, his Hands feeling the latter's Chest rising and falling with each Breath he greedily took to fill his Lungs with.

"I hope it doesn't stay that way! White goes much better with a Variety of Clothes!", Orange leaned his Arms on the Table, showing his Salesman-like Smile.

Pink turned his Head towards him, giving him a not-so-serious Glare. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Guys.", at the childish bickering, Blue couldn't help but sigh before turning his Attention back to the now much more calmer Addison, picking up the latter's unfinished Drink from the Table and gently handing it to him, "Are you okay, Spamton? We didn't went overboard, did we?"

Taking a huge Gulp from his Glass, Spamton shook his Head afterwards which reassured the blue Addison. "Noho fine Prints have been overlooked in this Deal."

"Was everything up to Customer Satisfaction?"

The bashful Spam E-Mail Addison hesitated for a Moment, though then nodded and answered. "It was the perfect Customer Experience. 10/10 Customer Satisfaction. Best Review possible."

Hearing that, the blue Addison smiled warmly and softly patted Spamton's Shoulder. "I'm glad to hear that. Though, please remember you can always just ask us when you need Attention like this, alright? We're your Friends and we support each other, including you."

A genuine Smile formed on Spamton's Face as he heard those very Words, cherishing them just like he did with the Drink in his Hands. "I'll remember it."

With that, the Group of Addisons around the Table finally settled down into a much more casual and relaxed Conversation than before, the smallest Addison clearly beaming with much more Joy, obviously happy yet also sneakily pondering. Perhaps, he would make use of that very Offer tomorrow.

[nulldragonhere]

Tickletober prompt 16: Claws

(Ler!Tenna, Lee!Orange addison) Orange thought that he could launch a surprise attack on the TV host. Little did he know what he was getting into.

Author's note: Bro died lol

------

Orange snickered to himself, sneaking closer to the oblivious victim.

The slightly shrunken TV host was standing still, whistling innocently and rocking on his heels. It was a perfect opportunity, no one else was around to save him! His height might... be an issue, but he was an addison! He could adapt to any situation!

He snuck closer, only a short distance away from Tenna. As he prepared to pounce, he didn't notice one antenna pointed backwards at him.

Orange leapt at Tenna's middle...

Only to sail through empty air as the host sidestepped him, giving a little twirl and snatching a now-flailing Orange out of midair.

"Looks like our studio guest has got a lot of energy today!" His height suddenly returned to normal, leaving Orange to feel small in his hand.

"Oh. Uh. Hey." One of his arms was stuck between Tenna's middle and ring finger, thumb keeping him from falling (or getting away). He's trying to keep it casual, "Wh-What's up?"

"My! How calm you are, so suddenly! How odd! Especially with all of the other trouble you've been stirring up today!"

Yeah, Orange had gotten just a little too comfortable on set, and in his boredom, had started dragging crew members into some shenanigans.

...If you could call 'got wrestled down and tickled senseless' shenanigans, at least. Orange had been a downright menace today, really.

"Hah, well, it's good to keep everyone in good spirits! Just helping out!" He's discreetly trying to get out of Tenna's hand. The TV star almost seemed pissed at him, a very strained smile on his screen.

"Funny you should mention 'helping out'," his grip remains around Orange, "because they actually called me for backup against you!"

His screen darkened. Orange saw the reflection of his own face in the screen. "Th-That is a coincidence! Wow, so cool! I-"

"You caused recording issues."

"Sorry about that, truly! See, it won't happen again, I really must be going back to Cyber city-" He makes to try and leave again, but the grip still refuses to falter. Instead, a wide smile lights across the darkened screen.

"Going so soon? I don't think so. I was called for backup, remember? You've terrorized my studio long enough." His tone dipped low and threatening. "It's about time that you paid for your actions."

Orange watched Tenna's gloves sprout claws, and barely supresses a gasp. This guy was about to hurt him for real over this! He covered his eyes with his free arm, flinching back in fear and bracing for the worst-

"GAHAHAHWAITWHAT-!?"

-and lets out a high-pitched squeal when he feels one of those claws wiggling under his arm.

"Awwww, just listen to that laugh! Hardly what I expected from someone tough and rowdy like you! It's so CUTE!"

Orange keeps laughing and thrashing as Tenna's index and thumb claws wiggle between his ribs, acting as if they were looking for a comfortable groove to rest in. His free arm is trying to push away those fingers, but they don't budge. "T-TENNAHAHAHA-! CUHUHUT IT OUHUHUHUT-!"

"Hmm, maybe! But that laugh really is something... I like it! Mike told me you even got him earlier! He's not easy to sneak up on, you know! You're veeeeeery sneaky for being so squeaky!" One claw pokes into his stomach, earning a comical little squeak.

Tenna's nose blooms a little flower as two claws scratch at the addison's stomach, drawing out a series of incredibly cute squeaks. "Just so you know... a certain little birdy sold you out!"

The tickling paused, allowing Orange to catch his breath. "Wh... what do y-you mean-?"

"A certain little birdy told me that you couldn't take what you were dishing out! A certain little birdy told me allllll your silly tickly weaknesses!"

Orange felt a chill go down his spine. "S...Spammy...?"

"Correct! Ten points to the contestant! Are you scared of the tickle monster yet? Because he's got a lot to work with on such a cute little addison!"

Orange felt himself flush, looking away. Of course Spamton would've sold his secrets- He expected nothing less from his baby brother. "I'm not gracing any of that with a response."

"Oh, I didn't expect an answer!"

Orange gave a panicked squawk when he felt two claws resting threateningly on his sides. His one free hand flew down on reflex to try and push one of them away, only for it to be unmoving. A wobbly grin was already forming, much to his chagrin, along with a bubbling in his chest.

"I expect another cute squeal!"

His claws were barely brushing against his sides when Orange burst into a shriek and wild laughter, thrashing as much as he could.

"Woah-ho-! He wasn't kidding about your sides! Talk about side-splitting laughter, am I right, folks!?"

The claws pressed in more, wiggling up and down his sides, and the addison was screeching. "NAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHERE-! DAHAHAHAMN IT-!"

"Gasp! That language is not TV approved! We can't let that slide! Looks like I'll have to issue a bit of disciplinary action for that!"

Tenna grabbed his unpinned arm, adjusting his hold and pinning both arms above his head, between his fingers. Orange looked panicked, eyes darting around everywhere trying to figure out what was about to happen.

Meanwhile, Tenna's antenna extended, drooping and tapping against Orange's exposed sides. The addison gave a confused glance before collapsing into silent laughter.

His antenna were giving off small sparks of static, causing several tickly shocks against the addison. This was likely made even more effective by the addisons' electronic nature.

The only thing that mattered to Orange at that moment was how fucking BAD it tickled. He didn't think he'd encountered anything worse than this, really.

"Aww! This one gets Spammy good, too!"

Orange was still stuck in silent laughter, falling limp in Tenna's hold as the little shocks finally petered off. He gave a few pathetic-sounding wheezes as he recovered.

"Well! I do hope you've learned a valuable lesson today!" Tenna sets him down, patting him along to the exit.

"Wh-What lesson-?"

The screen darkened again, the bright smile being the only visible feature. "TV world only needs one tickle monster. They're very territorial, you see?"

"...Yeah, sure, I guess."

"Atta boy!"

[candytkls]

Day 8: Chasing

AAAA I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO POST THIS ONE

I think Tenna would 100% pull a whole tickle monster physical challenge for his crew whenever he's in a mood, he just seems like the type to do it! *he's silly and i love him*

(Minors DNI)