#tem writes

That's right! Many of you know and love @42donotpanic (and if you run a bingo yourself, you'll definitely be familiar with the name...), and now they're a part of the team! Hopefully this will ease the pressure on us, and we're super grateful for the help! They're already churning out cards at a ridiculous pace!

((oh boy here I go bringing my bullshit into a new decade again~ this is dedicated to @ticklishjevil bc she is 100% to blame for my descent into ZADR hell and generally inspiring/encouraging the creation of this...thing!! I hope you’re proud of yourself darling 💖

ALSO I’m very sorry if the spacing/formatting is borked tumblr mobile is terrible but I am doing my best to fix as we speak ;w; ))

***

“Give it up, Zim! You’ll never get away with this!”

Dib had lost count of how many times he’d said that by now. Eight years, countless crazy schemes, a couple near total obliterations of the galaxy as they knew it and an almost equal tally of humiliating defeats and triumphant (if temporary) victories for both sides - somehow, it always seemed to come back to the two of them. Dib, Zim, the doomsday device of the day and this seemingly endless chase that remained as frustrating yet exhilarating as it was the day the green kid first rocked up to class. Would it ever end? That almost didn’t seem to matter at this point - this was the life Dib had chosen. As long as Zim was around, he had a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning, a duty to the rest of humankind to keep protecting his planet from impending extraterrestrial invasion...even if most of them remained too dumb to appreciate his efforts.

“You’re too late, Dib-stink!” cried the bug-eyed bane of his existence, waving around some kind of remote with a red button. “Just one press of this button, and every single whiffy signal -“

“...do you mean wi-fi?”

“Zim knows what Zim means!” he barked, an antenna twitching with irritation. “As I was saying, every signal will be scrambled, and without their mind-numbing entertainment, your fellow earthworms will inevitably turn on each other! Leaving the planet defenceless for when I, Zim...figure out how to do whatever it is I need to do to destroy you all!”

“Noooo! That’s…” Dib paused mid-dramatic wail. “Actually a pretty solid plan? I mean, I can see your logic. It’s definitely an improvement on some of your others, like that one with the rubber chickens -“

“Silence!” Zim pointed an accusing claw at him, though Dib could’ve sworn he preened a little at the almost-compliment, puffing up his chest and planting his free hand on his hip. “Of course it is foolproof! And if you imagine for a second that the amazing Zim could ever become so distracted by his own ingeniousness that he could be lured into monologuing until a hypothetical opportunity might arise for someone to take - hey gimme that back!”

((quick lil Carnaberg drabble I did for the lovely @shamanicshaymin !! takes place after The Bud of the Joke but uh...there’s no actual tickling in this one. but i’mma stick it here anyway bc I can’t put it on my main lol ^^;; ))

“I still can’t believe you’re so ticklish,” Hilda chuckled, her hand loosely clasped in Cagney’s larger, leafier one as they headed back to their home isle. “And that you hid it from me all this time. I thought we were friends, Cags.”

Cagney groaned quietly, the orange flush on his yellow cheeks matching the hue of the sunset. He’d never live this down. “It ain’t exactly something you advertise. Y’know, not with all the schemin’ li’l minxes around who apparently live to pick on poor, defenseless flowers.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Hilda let go of Cagney’s hand and the next thing he knew they were face to face as she floated up to his height on her cloud, still wearing that insufferably smug smile but with a softness in her eyes. “Also, it’s adorable. I haven’t heard you laugh like that in...well, ever.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Cagney grumbled, swatting at her half-heartedly, but she quickly floated out of his reach, behind his petals.

“These must be awfully sensitive, huh…?”

“Hilda, I swear to god if you try anything - funny…” Cagney’s warning words dissolved into something embarrassingly close to a purr as she started to stroke the velvety underside of his petals, with exactly the right amount of pressure not to tickle but to induce a warm, fuzzy pleasure that spread from his crown down to his roots until he was practically melting into her deceptively skilled touch, eyes fluttering closed in bliss. This might be even less dignified than being tickled in public, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Goddamn you that’s...so good..”

“See?” Hilda’s soft giggle caressed his lower petal, right before she darted forward and pressed an equally light, teasing kiss to his cheek. “I told ya you couldn’t hide that cute, stupid face for long —!”

It was Hilda’s turn to let out a surprised squeak as Cagney shot several vines out of the ground, swiftly dissolving her cloud and snaking around her arms and legs, leaving her at the mercy of his increasingly predatory gaze and shark-like smile. Cagney snickered at her wide-eyed, indignant yet not entirely displeased expression.

“Hold up there, missy,” he purred, cupping her chin with more tenderness than he’d admit to before he moved to claim her mouth with his own. “Who said you get to have all the fun around here?”

sorry this is late, nonnie!! I hope it will suffice and thank you so much <33

The Games We Play

In this job, King Dice’s learned fast, there’s secrets, and then there’s secrets.

As the Devil’s right-hand man, he gets to know all kinds of dark, twisted, sordid tidbits about the inhabitants of Inkwell, the stuff they’d pay anything to keep on the down low, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a thrill out of it. But the other unexpected perk of his job is finding out all the little quirks of the big cheese himself no one else would ever suspect. Like how his fur sticks up after he’s been napping in his throne, or how he’ll let his little imps sit on his shoulder when he’s in a good mood - or even that Satan himself just so happens to be incredibly, adorably, ticklish.

Naturally, Dice takes every opportunity to exploit this particular weakness, but if he wants to keep his job - and his head - he’s gotta keep it subtle in front of the customers, tempting as it is to find out just how far he can push it. He’ll stand at the Devil’s side like a good little lackey, making sure to get his attention with a poke to the side here, a nudge in the ribs there. Just enough to get under his fur - so to speak - to see him flinch or feel him squirm as he stifles a yelp. If he’s lucky he might even catch a hint of a blush through the dark fur as the Devil glares at him, because he knows that Dice knows damn well what he’s doing; how much he loves getting him all flustered and jumpy by resting a hand on the small of his back, just out of sight so he can stroke and tease the fur there, fingers dancing dangerously close to the money spots but never quite going for it. And, well, the boss isn’t gonna risk letting his sensitive little secret slip in front of all these current and future debtors, the ones his reign of terror depends on, so all he can do is stand there and take it, struggling not to give the game away when Dice catches his eye and winks, both of them already thinking about what’s to come later.

Because it’s the later he really lives for, when they’re alone in the Devil’s office away from prying eyes and he can really deliver on all the unspoken promises. He gets to rake his fingers shamelessly through that thick, coarse fur, slowly and methodically, feeling the Devil tense in anticipation but not doing a thing to stop him before he makes his play, digging into his sides until those ironically angelic giggles burst free. He tickles him mercilessly and savours all those noises he’ll never make for anyone else; throaty cackles as he scratches his belly, joyous squeals when he scribbles under his arms, full-on bleats when he wiggles between his toes and teases the pads of his feet, all the while telling him how adorable he is like this. How cute and sweet and helpless, the big, bad king of Inkwell Hell, nothing but a ticklish little kitty. Dice’s ticklish little kitty, and he doesn’t intend on stopping until he admits it.

Pride’s a sin, and one the Devil ain’t short on, so he’ll never admit how much he likes this. How much he needs it, to be reduced to giggling putty in Dice’s skilled hands - to let himself be vulnerable, somewhere he doesn’t have to maintain his fearsome reputation. He doesn’t have to; that he even lets Dice do this and live says it all, the way he curls into him afterwards, even letting out the occasional purr as Dice strokes away the tears dampening his fur. Sure, he’ll scowl and mutter a bunch of violent yet empty threats, but they both know what he really means is thank you.

The game doesn’t end there, of course - this is the goddamned Devil. Revenge will come just as Dice’s starting to let his guard down, in the form of six or more deadly arms, pinning him down or holding him up, wriggling under or tearing through his suit to attack every vulnerable area at once, but always paying extra special attention to those two pips on the bottom of his head that are so unbearably sensitive they have him gasping and wheezing, struggling to even beg for mercy with the Devil’s breath hot against his cheek reminding him just who is whose li’l tickle toy here, and he’ll make damn sure he doesn’t ever forget it.

YES GOOD EXCELLENT :D sorry this took a little while but I hope you like <3

Alpha Twin

“I win again!” Cuphead exclaimed in triumph as he pinned his and Mugman’s clasped hands to the floor for the third time in a row. “Another victory for Inkwell’s arm-wrestling champion!”

“Okay, okay…” Mugman sighed, rubbing his arm and rolling his eyes a little as his brother bowed and preened before an imaginary crowd. Their wrestling matches were fun, but Cuphead sure did let winning go to his head sometimes. “Remember, Elder Kettle said nobody likes a bad winner.”

“More like a sore loser.” Cuphead smirked, before slinging his arm around Mugman’s neck and pulling him in for a noogie. “C’mon, Mugsy, don’t be like that! It’s not easy being the older, wiser, tougher brother, y’know…”

“Ten minutes older!”

“Still counts!” Cuphead let him go, planting his hands on his hips. “Alright, fine – one last rematch! To settle once and for all who is the true alpha twin!”

He raised his fists, flexing and posing like Ribby and Croaks always did before a fight. Mugman couldn’t help but snicker at the tough-guy act – they were practically the same size, but Cuphead was scrappier and more stubborn so it was usually just easier to give in whenever they argued. Right now, though, he was kinda asking to be knocked down a peg or two.

“You’re on!”

“This match will get red hot!” Cuphead declared in his best announcer’s voice. “You ready? Three, two…”

“Go!”

Cuphead launched himself at Mugman and wrestled him to the ground almost immediately; he tried to fight back and they pushed and shoved at each other, both starting to laugh as they rolled across the floor, back and forth. Mugman was trying to avoid clanking heads, cautious not to tip over from roughhousing to actually hurting his brother, which was probably how he ended up pinned with one arm twisted behind his back.

“See?” Cuphead taunted as he squirmed and bucked, struggling to free himself. “Might as well give up now, I’m just the better fighter…!”

He let out a sudden yelp as Mugman’s free hand managed to grab his side, fingers digging in and making Cuphead jerk and swat at his hand. “Nohoho fair - that’s cheating!”

“Gee, it is?” Mugman asked, innocent tone at odds with his mischievous grin as he realised an opportunity to turn the tables. He kept squeezing Cuphead’s side until he was giggling too much to hold him down, giving him the opportunity to wriggle free as his brother fought to defend himself. “You never said that - is my big, tough, older brother gonna be taken down by a couple tickles?”

“L-lihihihike you can tahahalk!” Cuphead protested through cackles, defiant even as Mugman twisted around to reverse their positions, sitting on his legs and scrabbling under his shirt to get at his soft, vulnerable belly. “You’re way more ticklish than meheheheeee nonono Mugs not there!”

Mugman found himself laughing too as he lifted Cuphead’s leg with one hand and scribbled behind his knee with the other – he was right, he was usually the one getting tickled to pieces, but a little overdue revenge sure was sweet. “Sooo, you give up?”

“Nehehehever!”

“Okay, if that’s how you wanna play it…”

He was probably gonna get kicked in the face soon anyway, so Mugman let go of his brother’s flailing leg - only to grab his shoulders and blow into his straw, causing his head to fill with bubbles and Cuphead to collapse into hysterics. Their secret weapon, known only to the two of them and Elder Kettle – it could be dangerous if anyone else found out that felt like tickly raspberries all over their whole body, or that it made Cuphead laugh so hard his face turned as red as his nose, pounding both feet and his fists desperately against the floor until Mugman figured he’d be begging for mercy, if he could form the words.

He let up and Cuphead slid to the floor in a limp, giggly puddle, lying there for a few moments recovering his breath until Mugman offered a hand to help him up.

“Sorry, Cuppy - did I go too far?” he asked, a little guilty but relieved when his brother sat up and shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. He couldn’t erase the lingering blush so easily, though, and Mugman couldn’t resist adding with a giggle: “What was that you were saying about the alpha twin again?”

“Alpha twin this!”

Mugman let out a startled squeal as Cuphead grabbed his hand and pulled him down in a flash, fingers attacking his sides without mercy as the room filled with peals of bubbly laughter again.

((For @there-will-come-acid-rains who requested some nameless f/f fluff! Sorry it took so long, I hope you like!! 💖 ))

“Baaabe,” you whine, with your best puppy eyes that may be wasted on the back of her head, “come to bed?”

”Yeah, soon, just another few minutes,” she mumbles distractedly, not looking up from her laptop. “I really need to finish this report.”

“You said that like an hour ago.” You wander over to the back of couch, sliding your arms around her shoulders. “And you also have an extremely needy girlfriend who may die if she doesn’t get enough attention.”

“Tragically,” she deadpans, but you can feel her smile as you lean down to kiss her neck. She tilts her head back to peck you on the lips before patting the cushions next to her. “C’mon, needy, you can keep me company til I’m done.”

It’s not exactly what you were hoping for, but your neediness knows no bounds; you flop onto the couch, stretching out your legs so your feet rest against her thigh. You half-heartedly scroll through your phone, but can’t help stealing glances at her profile as she types away; glasses perched on the end of her nose, a few stray curls escaping her messy bun, that cute little forehead wrinkle she gets when she’s concentrating. She shifts and her sweater rides up a little, revealing a sliver of skin it’s simply impossible to resist nudging with your socked foot.

She flinches but otherwise ignores your first attempt, so you poke her again, wiggling your toes under her sweater until she jumps and squeaks, finally looking up to glare at you with all the intimidation of a ruffled puppy.

“Quit it.”

“What?” You pretend to be engrossed in your phone, biting your lip. “I’m just trying to get comfy, no need to be so touchy.”

“You’re not funny-!” She yelps and almost drops the laptop when you prod at her ribs; lightning-fast, she slides it onto the coffee table and her hand curls around your ankle, holding it captive before you can escape. “Fine, if you want to laugh so bad…”

You freeze, butterflies stirring in your stomach as she wiggles her fingers perilously close to your dangerously ticklish feet. “Babe - wait, no. don’t…!”

“Aw, sweetie, what’s wrong?” She gives you no chance to respond as she runs her nails down the length of your foot; you squeal, scrunching it up in a vain effort to protect yourself. “I thought you just wanted a little attention?”

“I didn’t mean thahahahat!” Your plea is lost to giggles as her fingers dance over your sole, and you struggle to pull away. “Nohohoho!”

“No? But I thought we were having fun?” she asks, scratching at the ball of your foot. “Are you sorry now?”

No way are you admitting defeat that easily, even in your current somewhat compromising position. “Soho nohohot - wait nonono not fair!” She pulls your sock off and goes for your vulnerable toes, tickling under and between them with one hand and all over your foot with the other until you’re thrashing about and cackling helplessly like a madwoman, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Okayokay sorrysorrysorry plehehehease I’m gonna dihihihie!”

“Well, that wasn’t much of a fight,” she says, wiggling your toe one last time before relenting, and flashes you a smug grin when she catches your eye. “Looks like someone can’t take what she dishes out.”

You pull your foot back and blow a raspberry at her in retaliation, but the goofy smile lingers on your lips. “Can too, and this isn’t over. You just declared war.”

“You’re such a dumbass.” Only she could say that with so much affection, as she grabs her laptop from the coffee table and starts typing again. You shuffle around so your head is resting on her thigh, and she idly runs her fingers through your hair.

“Joke’s on you,” you mumble, eyes fluttering closed from the soothing movement of her fingers, “‘cause I’m your dumbass.”

“Maybe I should title this thing ‘How to Train Your Dumbass’.” She ghosts her fingers across your neck and you squirm, giggle muffled as you press your face against her thigh. “Now shush and let me finish so we can get to bed already.”

AAAAAA I’m sorry this took so long lol but this prompt was so adorable I just had to do it justice!! I hope you like 💜

this may also be considered a sequel to Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Dragon? c:

Funny Business

However far off, Grim Matchstick recognised crying when he heard it.

He wasn’t used to hearing it here, though, on his daily glide over the typically cheerful chaos of the carnival when he spotted a lone figure huddled behind one of the tents, away from the bustling crowds. He’d recognise that colourful face anywhere - but he’d never seen it look so miserable before.

“B-Beppi…?”

“Huh - Grimmy!” His friend startled as Grim descended from the sky, springing to his feet with a smile, but it didn’t light up his face like usual. “What a super duper dragon-sized surprise! I didn’t even see you there - must’ve had my head in the clouds, ha! Get it, ‘cause…balloons - air…” Beppi faltered, looking close to deflating for a moment before he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “Anyway! What can I do ya for?”

“Oh - I was just p-passing by and I heard, uh…” Grim fidgeted with his claws, taking in the dull pink tinge of Beppi’s usually bright yellow eyes, the telltale tear tracks smudging the paint around his cheeks. It was painful to see his pal in this state - and even more so when we he was obviously struggling to keep up the happy act. “A-Are you okay? It’s not like you to hide away from an audience…”

“Pffft, I’m just fine, dandy as candy, don’t you worry!” Beppi waved a hand dismissively, but his smile was growing shakier by the second. “Just a rough crowd, that’s all, but that’s the biz! Even if - even if no one laughed the entire show until someone started throwing popcorn - that doesn’t mean you’re a failure of a funnyman who should probably just pack up the rubber chickens already ‘cause the people deserve a good clown, and - and…”

“H-hey, sssh, don’t be silly! Well - s-s-sillier than usual…” Grim slid his arm around Beppi’s shoulders, pulling him into an awkward but heartfelt hug. He was more used to making people cry - albeit unintentionally - than comforting them, but Beppi immediately threw his arms around him, sniffling into Grim’s scaly shoulder as he patted his back. “It’s gonna be okay. D-do you want me to get Djimmi, or…?”

“No!” Beppi’s head jerked up in alarm, grabbing Grim’s arm with both hands as if afraid he’d fly away. “No, don’t tell Djim, I don’t want him to - no sense causing a kerfuffle over silly ol’ me. Look, I’m feeling better already, see?” He rubbed his eyes before baring his teeth in an unconvincing, slightly unsettling grimace.

Grim frowned, not buying it, but then an idea sparked. He wasn’t sure if it’d work, but Beppi always tried his darnedest to cheer him up when he needed it, so maybe it was high time he returned the favour.

“C-c’mon, you call that a smile? I know you can do better than that - you taught me how to smile, remember? Let’s see, I think it w-went a little something like this…”

Beppi’s eyes widened in realisation as Grim’s stubby but strong arms encircled him before he could bolt. “Grimmy, wait, you don’t gottahahaha -!” He instantly burst into giggles as Grim scooped him up, wiggling his claws under his arms as he did so.

“Gotcha - there it is!” Grim beamed triumphantly down at his ‘prey’, cradling him in his wings so his claws were free to scribble and pinch at his sides. “My f-f-favourite laugh - see, such a swell clown, the best, the sweetest li’l ball of giggles! Whatever would we all do without it, without you?”

He may have been teasing, but Grim meant every word; tickling Beppi was like a carnival game in itself, his reward the honks, snorts and squeaks of pure delight as he ineffectively batted at Grim’s hands, only making him want to try every spot to see what other noises he might win. “Okahahay, okay, I’m smihihihilin’!”

“F-folks can’t get enough of this one - he’s a r-real rib-tickler!” Grim lifted his tail to loop around Beppi’s wrists, retracting his spikes so as not to hurt him while leaving him at the mercy of his claws as they danced over his ribs like a piano - evidently hitting the right notes as Beppi squealed with laughter, bucking and writhing in his grip.

“Hehehey - thahahat’s my johohohoke!”

“Then it’s g-gotta be a good one, right, with how much you’re laughing!” Grim couldn’t help chuckling himself, affectionately nuzzling his snout into Beppi’s neck. “Mmm, the t-t-tickle monster’s got a real taste for giggly little clowns. I think I spy a s-snack!”

He began nibbling, careful with his fangs, from Beppi’s neck down over his ribs and lingering at his belly until he was shrieking helplessly, the vibrations almost tickling Grim too.

“Nooohohoho not thahahat! I’m toohoohoo -!” Beppi’s laughter tumbled out in loud, uncontrollable, infectious peals when Grim flickered his forked tongue over the dip of his bellybutton, long beyond coherent speech, but he could just about decipher one word:

“…my mahahahakeuhuhup…!”

“Oh!” Snapping out of his merciless monster role, Grim stopped, uncoiling his tail from Beppi’s wrists and letting him flop into his arms. “S-sorry - I got a little carried away…”

“D-dohon’t be. I needed that.” If Beppi’s facepaint was smeared before, he now resembled a candy cane that had been left in the sun too long - but one glowing with genuine joy and gratitude, still giggling weakly as he hugged Grim’s neck. “How about that, I created a tickle monster! I’m so proud! And just a teensy bit terrified.”

“You brought this on yoursehehelf!” Grim snorted as Beppi’s fingers scrabbled up his neck and behind his ears, before somersaulting neatly out of his arms before he could retaliate. He stuck his tongue out in response, waggling it in playful threat. “M-maybe next time, I’ll bring a couple extra heads.”

“Oooh, them’s fightin’ words.” Beppi gasped in faux-offence, clutching his heart theatrically. “Ya don’t wanna mess with a clown, Grimbo - we always get the last laugh. Speaking of - yikes, better skedaddle to make the next show. Can’t let the kiddies see me like this, they’ll think it’s the ghost train! Hey - why don’t you come with! Guest of honour?”

Grim opened his mouth to politely decline - his appearance at any show usually caused more trouble than it was worth - but Beppi’s eyes were so big and hopeful, his grin restored to its usual irresistible brilliance in a way he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of, and, well, who was Grim to turn down the greatest show in Inkwell? Besides, he had a feeling folks would be a lot less hasty to heckle Beppi with a dragon in his court.

((New year and back on my bullshit :D so this is inspired by these beautiful arts by the wonderful @fluffymary​ for her Cuphead tickling AU, which continues to water my crops and clear my skin. tysm friend, I hope I did it justice!! <33 ))

Fic masterpost

Beppi was not about to lose this.

He’d been flawlessly mimicking Djimmi all day in their game of ‘anything you can do I can do better’, down to the grand sweep of his hand as he levitated something to him (Beppi just had a couple balloon dogs float it over), his deep baritone and the old-timey rhyme-y way he talked. It was a matter of clown pride – one did not simply lose prank wars, even if that meant undertaking the two most devilishly difficult tasks ever: being quiet and sitting still.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been perched on that stool – minutes, hours, days? – balancing with his legs crossed and eyes closed to “focus the mind”, or so Djimmi claimed. He had to be plenty focused by now, but every time Beppi snuck a glance he was still floating there, seemingly in a state of total tranquility, not looking like he planned to move any time soon. This was torture - Beppi’s nose itched, his butt was asleep and the silence went on for so long he was positive his head was going to explode from boredom. Would that count as making a noise? He almost asked Djimmi, but then remembered –

“Hey, Beppi, Djimmi!” A familiar, cheerful voice interrupted his ponderings, and Beppi deflated a little in frustration – normally, of course, he’d be more than happy to greet a pair of friendly mugs, but today was the opposite of normal. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Cup, sssh,” came a slightly quieter one. “I think they’re meditating. You’re supposed to keep real quiet. It’s relaxing.”

“Huh? No kidding!” Beppi could just hear the size of Cuphead’s mischievous grin, and he knew his predicament wasn’t about to get any easier. “Beppi, quiet? This is gonna be better than any of his acts!” – ouch, Beppi mentally clutched his heart, that was uncalled for – “Betcha two coins he’ll break any second now.”

“Don’t be mean!” Mugman scolded his brother, though not terribly convincingly as Beppi felt them both sidle closer, one on either side of him. “It must be tough on the poor fella, having to concentrate so hard. He’s not even allowed to laugh…”

“Heeeeyyy, Beps.” Cuphead leaned against his thigh, elbow digging in a little as Beppi felt his lips start to twitch. “You doing okay there? That stool looks a little wobbly – I sure hope you’re not gonna fall...”