#THE FUR COLLAR?? THE LIL DANGLES?? THE TINY WAIST??

[aticklishtem]

Cat’s Out of the Bag

((Request for @mylittlemystery from this post + “Are you scared?”~  I hope you like it!! <3 ))

“Boys, boys! Get back here right – I said stay! Heel! Play dead…?”

Djimmi wished he could say it was an uncommon occurrence to be roused from his lamp by a flurry of rowdy barks, indignant yowls, frantic pleas and plastic palm trees crashing to the floor – and maybe once it had been. But, it was safe to say, those days had all been long before his life had had the – occasionally mixed – blessing of having Beppi in it.

He materialised in a puff of smoke to be met with a predictably chaotic picture: a bunch of Beppi’s balloon dogs all yapping and growling; his own sarcophagus cats, arched up, hissing and spitting back at them, and in the middle of it all, almost literally tying himself into knots trying to keep them from colliding, while several hot pups nipped at his heels and another tugged fiercely at his collar in an attempt to get at the kitten that had somehow gotten its claws stuck into the other side, his colourful chum.

“Djimbo! Hiya!” Beppi exclaimed, flashing him a slightly more frazzled smile than usual. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“In my own tent, yes, fancy that,” Djimmi answered dryly, wry amusement turning to concern as his cat dangled precariously from Beppi’s collar. Sensing an imminent fall, he hastily floated over to retrieve the little one, cradling it carefully in his arms while planting himself as a more effective wall between the dogs and the rest of the litter.

Beppi let out a sheepish chuckle, just about twisting himself back into shape as most of the dogs retreated behind his legs. “Sorry about that – didn’t mean to disturb your little catnap. We were just out for walkies when several somebodies…” he shot a glare towards the dogs, who paid him no heed, “decided to start playing chase instead. Say sorry, boys!” He got nothing but a lone, contrary growl in response, which Djimmi couldn’t help but smile at – he knew just how unruly sentient show props could be, after all. “Ignore them, they’re full of hot air. They’re just being grouchy ‘cause I haven’t fed them yet.”

He lifted his hat, somehow revealing a long string of balloon sausages – Djimmi was no slouch when it came to magic, but Beppi’s unique brand of absurdity mystified even him at times – and lobbed them over towards the tent flap, successfully diverting the dogs’ attention as they bounced eagerly over each other to get at the rubbery feast.

“Dogs will be dogs, I suppose.” Reassured that his pets had come to no harm, Djimmi yawned and stretched out in the space, bending and flexing his muscles with a satisfying pop – it was cosy in his lamp, but took its toll if he slacked off for too long. “It’s more traditional to rub the lamp, but that’s...certainly one way to wake me up.” The customers would be coming in soon wanting their fortunes told, so he arranged himself gracefully across the plush pile of cushions scattered across the sand; as he did so, a few of the more skittish cats that had been hiding from the dogs behind his chest of ancient artifacts scampered over, soothed by his presence.

“Oooh, do I get three wishes?” Beppi made himself equally at home, sinking into the cushions next to Djimmi while a few curious cats padded over to inspect the newcomer.

“If you were several thousand years earlier, maybe. But I’ll tell you your future for three coins.”

Beppi poked his tongue out playfully in retaliation. “Don’t need your hokey magic. Maybe I’ll just start my own act...Beppi the Brilliant! Has a ring to it, don’tcha think?” As Djimmi chuckled and rolled his eyes fondly, he leaned over to peer intently into the crystal ball on the table – it didn’t actually show anything until Djimmi channeled his own magic into it, but Beppi was nothing if not committed to his act, wiggling his fingers dramatically above it, “I predict...lots of laughter! After a bit of a ruff start.”

“Ruff!” one of the dogs barked, its ears perking up.

“That’s right, you tell ‘em, buddy.” One of the kittens that had made its way into his lap mewed softly, diverting Beppi’s attention as his eyes widened in tender concern. “Oh, hey, little guy! Don’t be scared – they’re good boys really. They just play a little ruff.”

Djimmi kept a watchful eye as they got acquainted; his little ones could be fussy, and he rarely saw them take to anyone easily. And when they did, he had to admit he never imagined it would be Beppi, who only seemed to have two settings: loud and louder. Yet here he was, lifting them up as soft and gentle as anything to babble nonsense baby talk, giggling delightedly when paws batted at his colourful buttons and occasionally meowing himself as though they were having an in-depth conversation. Like so many things he did, it was both bizarre and inexplicably adorable, and Djimmi felt something warm and fuzzy stirring somewhere deep in his own old soul.

His fleeting moment of tranquility was soon disturbed as a few balloon dogs, having finished their snack and apparently disgruntled at their owner having the nerve to pay attention to anything else, floated back over, prompting a couple of cats to scramble back into the safety of Djimmi’s arms. While Beppi was busy reassuring them that he had plenty of pets to go around for everyone, a soft, metallic tail brushed across Djimmi’s bare stomach and he jumped, inadvertently dislodging a few cushions and drawing Beppi’s gaze back to him in the process.

“Down, boy.” Beppi patted his most persistent companion as he glanced up into Djimmi’s eyes, expression somewhere between amused and and suspicious, with just a hint of concern. “Djimbo, you’re not scared of old Frankie, are you? He couldn’t do a pop of damage – look.” He booped the pooch on the nose and it growled playfully, nipping at his finger. “See? Not sharp at all.”

Djimmi smiled, grateful that his natural hue should hide any resulting reddening of his cheeks. “No, of course I’m not scared of you…!” His voice rose to a strangled yelp as he reached over to pet the pup; the cat was settling in by pawing at his lap, its fur rubbing relentlessly at the exposed skin there. He clenched his teeth, struggling to hold back the laughter threatening to bubble up while maintaining a facade of normalcy – if Beppi caught on, he knew, the cats would be the least of his problems.

His friend cocked a bright blue eyebrow, evidently not buying it. “You sure? ‘Cause you’re acting kinda kooky, and this is me saying – ohhh.” Too late, much too late – realisation dawned and his golden eyes lit up like he’d just hit the jackpot at a slot machine. “I see what you’re scared of now. It’s the monster, isn’t it?”

“Beppi…” Djimmi adopted his best warning tone, despite the slightest of nervous flutters in his stomach as he folded his arms protectively over it – he recognised that scheming smile all too well, and it meant whatever zany idea had popped into his head, Djimmi wasn’t going to like it. “Don’t be ridiculous – alright, more ridiculous. There’s no monster here.”

“Djimbo, I am utterly, completely, eleventy-hundred-per-cent sincere here,” Beppi insisted, fluttering his eyelashes and almost managing to look halfway innocent, despite the malicious mischief glittering underneath. “Tickle monsters are no laughing matter. In fact, I think I just saw one riiiight…” his fingers, which had been slowly walking their way across Djimmi’s back, dug into his side, “there!”

The laughter he’d been repressing immediately burst free as nimble fingers scrabbled their way up his sides; they tumbled sideways, Djimmi ending up on his back sprawled across the cushions with Beppi straddling him, bearing down on him with a maniacal grin that in no way resembled the face of mercy.

“Oh no, looks like they’re multiplying!” he mock-gasped, confirming this fact when Djimmi attempted to push him off without doing any lasting damage by wriggling his fingers under his biceps and into the hollows of his armpits, any protests or threats dissolving into a stream of uncharacteristic, embarrassingly high-pitched giggles. “Whatever will we do?! Who will come and save our poor, helpless hero?”

He barely heard the familiar soft tinkle of paws over his own laughter as several cat sarcophagi padded over to investigate the kerfuffle; to Djimmi‘s frustration, they chose to “help” by licking his neck with tiny, soft tongues, while a few others nuzzled at his waist, apparently trying to burrow inside his vest.

“Lihihhihittle ones!” he managed to gasp out, reduced to simply clenching and unclenching his fists uselessly – he didn’t dare squirm too much for fear of sending their fragile bodies flying across the room, but his fate was now truly sealed, with Beppi having switched to lightly tapping out a tune along his ribs, just enough to keep him laughing. “Gehehehet ohohohoff!”

In perhaps the cruellest twist of fate that day, he only succeeded in drawing a bundle of balloon dogs bouncing over to his other side instead – and Beppi was right, their blunt, rubbery teeth didn’t hurt at all when they started nibbling at Djimmi’s waist and hips as though he was another giant sausage: it was so much worse.

“Would ya look at that – we got a full house!” Their ringleader clapped his hands together in glee, briefly distracted by the gathering menagerie, but soon redoubled his efforts as his fingers dancing lower to trace the outline of Djimmi’s abs, slowly at first and then picking up the pace.

“Y’know, Djimbo, you really shouldn’t taunt the tickle monster like that – leaving this cute lil’ tum-tum all exposed!” He spoke with the same teasing coo he’d addressed the cats with moments ago – almost as if Djimmi was an equally tiny, helpless creature, and it somehow intensified every nuzzle of fur, nip of teeth and swirl of gloved finger against his skin to the point where he could hardly think of anything else. Djimmi might’ve even suspected some form of malevolent magic, had he not known that it was all Beppi. “Next thing you’ll be leaving weapons around willy-nilly…”

Djimmi’s eyes, previously screwed shut from the potent combination of mirth and embarrassment, flew open in horror as he realised what Beppi was reaching for.

“Beheheheppi – don’t you even think about –“

“Now don’t tell me you’re scared of this fluffy fella too.” Beppi plucked the feather from his turban and wielded it like a seasoned swordsman, fluttering under his vest, across his chest, over every bit of skin he could reach with the lightest yet simultaneously most unbearable touch, as though painting a mural of giggles that turned to louder snorts and guffaws while evading Djimmi’s attempts to grab it back.

“Gihihive that bahahahack!”

“Aw, don’t be such a party pooper – the fun’s only just gotten started!” Beppi reprimanded him by twirling the tip of the feather across his broad shoulders – blessedly, a less sensitive area, but he scrunched up his neck instinctively anyway. “Hey, are you blushing? Kinda hard to tell – we should probably keep going, just to be sure. Whaddaya think, fellas?” Djimmi felt, rather than heard, a few responding mews as if his traitorous pets were agreeing, the sly devils. “‘Cause I think the tickle monster’s getting hungry. And I heard...that ticklish little genies are his faaavourite snack!”

Before Djimmi had any hope of finding the necessary coherency to point out the absurdity of Beppi calling him ‘little’ – though with the ludicrous nom nom nom noises he was growling against his trembling belly, practically one with his pack, he probably wouldn’t have heard anyway – he inhaled deeply and blew the noisiest, longest raspberry he could muster, which, given the proportions he could inflate his head and lungs to, felt to Djimmi like an eternity.

The ticklish sensations vibrated ceaselessly through every inch of his being, finally undoing the last of Djimmi’s self-control; his deep, booming, unrestrained laughter reverberated through the room, shaking the walls of his tent as he pounded a fist desperately against the floor. Startled by the outburst, the cats and dogs scattered, leaving only a trail of tingles lingering on his oversensitive skin.

Whether out of mercy or satisfaction with his grand finale, Beppi hopped off of him too and let Djimmi float upright, gathering his breath and what remained of his dignity before flashing him an unrepentant grin.

“Alright, alright, good hustle, guys,” he told the cats and dogs that had clustered around his feet, petting one with each hand – at least they seemed to have reconciled, somewhere in the process of uniting to torment Djimmi instead. “I think the tickle monster’s had his fill – for today, anyway…”

That smug satisfaction wavered as soon as Djimmi narrowed his eyes, picking up that damned feather and affixing it back to his turban; before Beppi could make a dash for it, he swiftly sealed the tent entrance with a flick of one hand while effortlessly scooping up an armful of squirming clown with the other.

“Funny you should mention, about these tickle monsters,” he hummed, cradling Beppi on his back just as he would a misbehaving kitten – he even curled up like one, drawing his knees up to his chest as if that was going to protect him from the powerful, wiggling fingers advancing ever closer, “because I heard there’s only one way to truly defeat them...”

“Djimbo – wait, wait! Just listen – we can cut a deal, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t – dohohohohon’t…!”

It also wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for his tent to shake with hysterical squeals and shrieks and snorts, the kind that doubtless made passers-by wonder what in the world was going on in there – but, fortunately, it was one Djimmi wouldn’t have traded for the world.

#tickling #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #cuphead tickling #cuphead tickles #will i ever write about anyone other than these huge dorks #evidently Not This Day #tem writes #my fic